View from Ararat (25 page)

‘Yeah, right.' He laughed and left the room.

I watched the door close behind him and didn't move from the bed.

I could still feel his kiss on my forehead. That was the kind of thing a father was supposed to do, but at that moment I couldn't ever remember my father kissing me.

‘I've never had a family until the last few months . . .'

As I sat there, staring at the back of the door, I felt the tears start.

27

The View from Ararat

(
Extracts from the works of Natassia Eiken transcribed to Archive Disk with the author's permission, 12/14/212 Standard)

From:
Standing on Ararat – The Crystal Death, Ten Years On (
Chapter Twenty-three
)

The planet Deucalion was named after a survivor.

In the time of the legend, when the gods flooded the world, Deucalion and his wife Pyrrha were left to start again and build a new world.

Floods and disasters are the stuff of myth. The will of the gods.

Survival is the human condition.

When Noah and his family stepped out onto Mount Ararat, after so many days in the ark, the first thing they saw was the rainbow – the symbol of the covenant with the future. But standing on the top of the mountain, you have a choice. You can look forward to where your dreams will take you, or you can look back at the past. Your past. Your triumphs, your mistakes. All the things that made you a survivor. And you can carry that view with you as you make your way down the other side.

That is the view from Ararat. Past and future, viewed through the eyes of the survivor . . .

In the end, history has a way of sorting things through and deciding what was important. Up close, it's sometimes a little hard to tell.

During the period of the Crystal Death in 203, over three million people died on Deucalion. Most were killed by the Crystal, some by panic, some by exposure to the harsh elements of the planet when they fled the artificial environment of the city unprepared. But some were killed by the armies that grew up in the sudden crisis.

For a society born of oppression, but one which prided itself on shedding its history, and pointed with some satisfaction to a century of building a new society on a new world, the events of 203 came as a huge shock.

It was not so much the loss of life. Terrible as it was, that could be recognised as an act of nature – one made worse by the actions of the old world corporations, but an act of nature just the same.

And the work of the dedicated few – the Researchers and the doctors, and those loyal Security personnel who remained at their posts throughout the crisis – eventually brought an end to the scourge which had threatened to destroy an entire society.

With the discovery of the cure, the distribution networks organised by the
Pandora
government airlifted supplies of the life-saving Capyjou to every affected town and city within days, and, with every resource of the planet coordinated to developing a method of synthesising the enzyme, within a month the crisis began to ease.

As people returned with confidence to the contaminated cities, safe from the effects of the once-fatal Crystal, life returned almost to normal.

Ironically, it was the rise of the armies that brought about what was perhaps the biggest single change. That a group entrusted to keep peace and order could, in a time of real need, become a threat almost as great as the epidemic itself was a lesson that a society like ours could not afford to forget.

At the height of the crisis, as his troops rolled south on their trek of destruction, Devol Eldritch had boasted that his army was ‘the one power' on Deucalion, that old constitution was dead. With his defeat at the Battle of Baden (later named New Jericho), there was indeed a change to the power structures in the new Deucalion.

The Security forces, as they had existed since the foundation of the colony, were disbanded. They were, it was pointed out in the Council debate, an anachronism – a throwback to the old colonial rule and the war-like attitudes of Old Earth. A truly democratic society having no external enemies did not need a standing force of armed operatives organised on military lines to keep the peace and help maintain order in an emergency. That was the job of all citizens.

So all citizens should do the job.

After 204 there were no more career Security personnel. Service in Security was by ballot, for a period of no more than two years, in a system which was organised in local directorates with no central command – except the President and a committee of elected representatives. They wore no uniforms and carried only non-lethal stun-guns, and their training was in areas of service rather than civil control.

Of course, not all was forgiven, and there were political casualties in the aftermath. In the elections of 204 President Müller and most of the ‘war-cabinet' were swept from office by voters who saw their flight to the
Pandora
as an act of cowardice and betrayal.

No amount of argument would convince an electorate still plagued by the memories of all that had been endured. No pointing to the continuity of decision-making during a period when all order was threatening to break down into chaos and anarchy.

Even the speed with which the life-saving Capyjou was distributed and the manufacture of crystalase achieved was ignored.

The result was an anti-Müller landslide as devastating as the victory of the PCP in the elections of 102.

As Leon Müller said in his last speech after his defeat, ‘Politics is the art of appearances, and on appearances we have been judged harshly. But if I struggle to do my best – however imperfect my best might be – then I have served to my capacity and I must be content with that. Finally, history will be my judge. I hope she adjudicates more kindly.'

He died less than six months later.

Of course, the Crystal will be with us always. When it can exist on every surface and every rock, when every touch can pass it on – from mother to child, lover to lover, stranger to stranger – we can never be rid of it on planet Deucalion. And while monthly doses of crystalase render it harmless, it has changed the way we look at the universe and how we relate to it.

Until we can find a way to ensure that exports are free of the Crystal, we are all in quarantine, just as the passengers of the
Pandora
were when they arrived in 203. There can be no exports, no C-ships heading out for the Casia settlements.

In the biggest industrial misconduct case in history, MacMillan/Tseng/Hartog, as owner of JMMC, was found responsible for the CRIOS outbreak on Deucalion – not for bringing the Crystal back in the first place, but for the massive cover-up which followed, and which, it was decided, contributed so significantly to the devastating outbreak on Deucalion.

As part of the record compensation settlement, a huge slice of their profits for the foreseeable future will be spent devising foolproof de-Crystallisation procedures, so that the mutually profitable inter-planetary trade can resume. Progress is being made already, combining heart-treatment with enzyme-neutralisation processes.

The C-ships still arrive, of course. Many of them were already on their way in 203, and there was no way of turning them back. In a sense though, the situation of the newcomers will be little different from those who came before them.

All new settlers face new experiences, and compared with some of the harsher aspects of life on Deucalion, a monthly dose of a tasteless enzyme supplement is a minor inconvenience.

The discovery of a gene-complex present in all animals on Deucalion – and in the Elokoi – which actually manufactures crystalase as part of the metabolic process has led to research into the possibility of cloning it into human children. They will then be born – like the Elokoi – with a built-in immunity to the Crystal, removing in one generation the need for the supplement, except among newcomers.

The research is being overseen at the Carmody Island Genetics Research Centre by Galen Sibraa and Charlotte ‘Charlie' Jacklin, who were, of course, key members of the team responsible for the discovery of the crystalase cure during the crisis of 203.

Al-Tiina Village

Vaana

8/2/213

JULES'S STORY

–
Jules!

– Julius . . .

The boy's mind-tone threw out excited colours, even before the flyer door slid open. Stepping out onto the soft vegetation of the Greenspace, I braced myself. Julius had grown again since we last met, but still I knew what to expect.

And I wasn't disappointed. A huge hug, then the formal Elokoi touching of foreheads. He is so much a part of the two worlds, and yet so far beyond either one.

Loef stood back, watching. He seemed contented, as he should be. The boy is all that could be expected, and more.

–
Saliba, my truefriend.

I could have spoken mind to mind without the speechwords, as Julius had taught me, but somehow, with Loef, it always seemed more natural to speak as we had always spoken. And he responded in kind.

–
Saliba, Juuls. You are truly welcome. Kaz did not come with you?

– She sends her regrets, but there was an emergency at the hospital and she was needed. She hopes you will understand. She and Jerome will take the flyer directly to New Geneva tomorrow and meet us there in time for the Telling.

Loef nodded silently and turned towards the hut.

–
You are hungry? Thirsty?

– Both.

– Then come.

Government Communications Research Facility

New Geneva (Central)

8/2/213

CINDY'S STORY

Cox called yesterday, for the first time in six months, to find out if I'd been invited to the bash. To which I pointed out that if they were inviting just about everyone in Baden (I still can't get used to calling it New Jericho), then they'd damned well better have invited me – especially seeing how I live here.

He didn't ask about Mac. It was obvious that they would ask the man most responsible for the strategy that defeated the Red Brigade. A tenth anniversary party without one of the guests of honour?

After that day in Baden he never looked back. I think something lifted from his shoulders on that day that the rest of us can only guess. Guilt is a terrible thing. It eats into every part of your life like a cancer, and sometimes it takes radical surgery to remove it.

Since they moved him to New G and put him in charge of the Far West Mineral Survey project, I've seen a lot more of him – and Diane his wife.

I even get to babysit for them, when the hectic schedule at the Facility allows. Diane says it's good practice, and I don't have the heart to tell her that small crying things aren't part of my plans, at least for the near future. There's still so much to do.

We're researching the possibility of using the DiBortelli warp for instantaneous, faster-than-light communications. It's a long-term project and the physics involved is mind-blowing, but maybe by the time I'm ready for retirement we might be close to seeing some results.

As for tomorrow night, I'm looking forward to catching up with the Cox clan. It's not that we've lost contact, not exactly. It's just that life gets so hectic . . .

Bernardi Community College

Elton (North)

8/2/213

RAMÓN'S STORY

There was an invitation from the President herself:

‘In recognition of your contributions during the CRIOS crisis . . .'

It's a great honour, of course, and the kids are excited about meeting all the famous people who'll undoubtedly be there, but it's hard to feel even partially responsible for what happened on Carmody Island all those years ago. I mean, what were we? Three kids lucky enough to be in the wrong place at exactly the right time. We didn't do any great service to humankind by accidentally discovering a way to stay alive when everyone else was dying.

It was Galen and Charlie, Kaz, Jerome . . . even Jules. They worked their tails off and took the risks. We just supplied the samples. But they never forget.

In every story I've read in the last ten years that deals with the discovery of crystalase, they always mention us. By name.

Of course it doesn't hurt, when you apply for a teaching job at a community college in the sticks, that everyone on the selection panel recognises your name and asks you about your experiences.

Élita's the historian. She'll tell you about fame, and how few famous people really deserve it. She could probably write a thesis on it – if she wasn't so busy on her history of the Elokoi during the first hundred years after the invasion. She says she's on her way to finishing, but I'll believe it when I see it.

They're flying her in from Vaana especially for the gala. She's been out near the Skeleton Coast on a dig. Normally she's not into the kind of ‘event' that takes her away from her work and forces her to mix with people who are still alive, but she heard about the Telling, so they couldn't have kept her away with a presidential order.

I must admit, that's the most exciting thing for me too.

For the first time outside Vaana, Kaeba t-Aiby-el-Roan will be Telling. And the Thoughtsong will be translated for a human audience by Julius Hymans. He was born on Carmody at about the time we were there, but there was so much going on that we never actually saw him.

Élita showed me a story they did on him on Internet. They say he's unique – that he can make you feel the Song the way an Elokoi feels it. And he's only ten years old.

She says he's being groomed for bigger things, and that this is just his ‘coming out party', that when he grows up he'll teach us what being Elokoi is all about.

I should warn him. Given her obsessions, he'd better not say hello to my sister tomorrow night. Not unless he wants a life-long acquaintance.

Epilogue

The Songs of Knowing

Newman Auditorium

New Geneva

10/2/213

KAEBA

In the silence of the great hall she sits, her legs crossed, her eyes closed, and feels the Song building within her.

The Elders of the twenty-nine tribes of the Elokoi sit in a half-circle behind her, and she feels their presence in the texture of the growing Song. For this is no ordinary Telling, and what it represents is too important to deserve any less than their presence.

Ranged up before them, row upon row, are those for whom the beauty of the Song, until this night, has been forever silent. Those whose Old Ones from the time of the Arrival could hear no more than distant echoes phrased imperfectly in offworld words
–
the colours dulled to grey, the taste of the emotions bland, the flash of inspiration dampened to a lifeless glow.

Tonight the Song will breathe its magic into them, soul-deep, and they will Understand. For tonight she Sings to them through Juulius.

Juulius
. . .
who stands at ease within the circle of Elders, calmly, feeling the Song as it grows inside her. She reaches deep into his thoughts, and through his eyes she sees what he is seeing.

Somewhere in the centre of that crowd, he watches them. The friends of his childhood, his teachers, his guides. The special humans from the island.

Juuls, of course.

And Kaz, whose colours are woven like threads through the story of his Birthing. Part of the Song is her Song, and she will cry to feel herself remembered.

Some, too, he watches whose Songs are not this Song, but still their presence echoes in the Lifesong of the man he will become. There is Galen the Seeker, and Charlie who shares the quest, and Jerome who came to serve and stayed to learn.

And with them, Loef. Above all, Loef.

He sits besides his friends, among the humans he has learned to understand as no Elokoi has ever learned. The Song is his Song too. It is the Song of Birthing, the Song of Touching, the Song of Knowing.

For that is Loef's gift. He has the gift of Knowing.

It is time.

She stands, her eyes glide open and the Song begins
. . .