Return to Eden

CHAPTER NINE

Here, just beyond the breaking waves, was a very satisfying place to be. Vaintè floated with her body submerged, her head above the water. The waves rose and fell under her with an easy rolling motion, marching in from the ocean in steady rows. Lifting her, passing on, curling and crashing onto the sand in a surge of white foam. When the waves rose the highest she looked towards the shore and could see beyond the green wall of the jungle to a row of gray mountains far inland. Had she seen them before? She could not remember; it did not matter. She opened her nose flaps and blew them clear of water, inhaled again and again. The transparent membranes slid over her eyes as she slipped under the water, dived deep.

Deeper and deeper until the water darkened and the surface was a distant glitter high above her. She was a strong swimmer now, almost a part of the underwater world. The seaweed beds were just below her, bowing and swaying in the undercurrents from the shore. Small fish sheltered here, darting for safety as she moved towards them. They were not worth pursuing. Ahead she saw something better, a large school of flat, multicolored fish moving like an underwater rainbow. Vaintè rolled over and kicked in their direction, arms extended, her tail and legs moving together to drive her forward.

Dark forms arrowed down before her, she twisted aside; she was not the only one to see the fish. More than once she had been pursued by large predators and had to escape by swimming ashore. Were these the same? No, they were smaller and more numerous and somehow familiar. For too long now she had existed in a timeless state, seeing but not thinking, making no effort to rationally analyze what was before her eyes, so that at first she did not recognize them. Hanging motionless in the water, a thin stream of bubbles rising from her nostrils, she watched as they approached. Only when they were very close did she realize that she was looking at other Yilanè.

The pain in her chest and a growing darkness before her eyes forced her to realize that she had been down too long, drove her to the surface to gasp in air. The shock of seeing Yilanè in this empty place tore at the fog that had clouded her mind, idle so long. An efenburu of young in the sea, come here from some distant city, that is what they must be. But the young elininyil never ventured far from their birth beaches. And there was something else, something different. These creatures were too large, far too large to be an unemerged efenburu. They were fully grown. If so — what were they doing here?

A head surfaced nearby, then another and another. As she had seen them, so had they seen her. Unthinkingly Vaintè turned in the water, swam towards shore, away from their presence. Into the breaking surf, riding it up onto the sand, then struggling through the surge to the familiar beach beyond. When her feet left the sand and slapped through the mud she halted, looking at the trees and swamp ahead of her. What was she doing? What did she want to do? Was she fleeing from them?

Unaccustomed questions, unaccustomed thought. She felt restive, disturbed at the idea of trying to escape. She had never before retreated, had never sought to flee from difficulties. Then why was she doing it now? Although she had been standing with arms hanging limply, head lowered, when she turned about to face the ocean her head was high, her back straight. Dark figures were emerging from the surf and she walked slowly towards them and stopped at the edge of the sand.

Those closest to her halted, knee-deep in the surf, staring with expressions of doubt on their partly opened mouths. She stared back assessing them. Fully grown fargi. But they stood with a blankness of movement that communicated very little.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” she said.

The one she addressed, the nearest, moved back a few steps in the water. As she did this she raised the palms of her hands. The colors moved in the simplest of patterns, unaccompanied by sounds of any kind.

Together, she said. Together.

Vaintè signed back the same, scarcely realizing she was doing it. Had not done this since she had first emerged from the sea a timeless time ago. It took an effort to recall exactly what it meant. Yes, of course, it was the simple recognition between efensele in the sea. Together.

The speaker was shouldered roughly aside, staggered and fell. A larger fargi strode forward onto the sand but stopped at the water’s edge.

“Do… what I say… you do that.”

Her expressions were clumsy, her vocalizations crude and hard to understand. Who was this creature? What were they all doing here?

These considerations were driven away by a spurt of anger, an emotion unfelt since she had come to this beach, to this place. Her nostrils flared wide and her crest flowed with color.

“Who is this fargi, an upright worm that stands before me and issues orders?”

It came out imperiously, automatically. The fargi gaped with incomprehension, understanding nothing of her quick communication. She saw this and began to understand a little. She spoke again, slowly and simply.

“Silence. You are inferiority before superiority. I command you. Speak name.” She had to repeat this, in simpler form, mostly arm movements and color changes before it was understood.

“Velikrei,” she said. Vaintè noted with approval that the fargi shoulders had slumped and her body was now bent in a curve of inferiority. As it should be.

“On sand. Sit. Talk,” Vaintè commanded, sitting uprightly on her tail as she did so. The fargi stumbled up onto the beach and sat, arms shaped in gratitude. This creature who had tried to bully her was now thanking her for issuing orders. Seeing this the others emerged slowly from the sea, huddled before her in a half-circle of staring eyes and gaping mouths. It was a familiar grouping and she was beginning to understand who they were and just what they were doing here.

It was a good thing that she did for Velikrei could explain very little. Vaintè had to speak with her for she was the only one who was even slightly Yilanè. The others were little more than large elininyil, immature young. None of them appeared to even have names. They communicated only with the simplest movements and colors that they had learned in the sea, with an occasional harsh sound for emphasis.

They fished during the day, she discovered that much. Slept on the shore at night. Where had they come from? A place, a city, she knew that without asking. Where was it? When Velikrei finally understood the questions she gaped out at the empty ocean and finally pointed north. She could add little more. Further questioning accomplished nothing. Vaintè realized that this was the limit of the intelligence she could abstract from Velikrei. It was enough. She knew now who they were.

They were the rejected ones. From the birth beaches they had gone into the ocean. Lived there, grew there, until they had emerged from the sea at maturity, physically able at last to dwell on land, free to walk across the beaches for the first time to the city beyond. To be accepted by the city, fed by the city, absorbed by the city.

Perhaps. In every Yilanè city existence was always the same. She had observed it for herself in all the cities that she had ever visited. There would be the Yilanè busy about the manifold tasks, the fargi hurrying to their assistance. The eistaa above and the countless fargi below. These were everpresent, indistinguishable one from the other. Shuffling in crowds through the streets, stopping to look at anything of interest, faceless, nameless, identical.

But not always identical. Those of intelligence and ability learned to speak, improved their speech until they became Yilanè. Once they possessed the power of communication they moved gradually from the mass of inchoate fargi to attain the status of Yilanè, the speaking ones. To become a vital part of the city’s function. Those of even greater ability would rise even higher, to apprenticeship to the Yilanè of science where they would learn skills and advance in work ability and status. Every eistaa was once a fargi on the beach; there was no limit to the heights a fargi might rise to.

But what of those of limited ability, who could not understand the fast speech and commands of the Yilanè who spoke to them? Who remained yiliebe, incapable of speech. These were the silent ones who stayed always on the fringes of the crowds, moving continually away from the intercommunication of intelligence instead of towards it. Identical, indistinguishable, doomed to remain forever at the outer edge of Yilanè existence. Eating and drinking and living, for the city gave life to all.

But just as the city accepted those of ability it must also reject those who lacked it. It was inevitable. There would always be those who stayed forever on the fringes of the crowds, who were the last to eat and got the smallest, castoff pieces of food. Who spent their days in gaping incomprehension. Their status was the lowest and they had just enough ability to understand that. Day by day they would be pushed aside, would stay further away from the crowds, would spend more and more time on the empty beaches where they would not be troubled by any feelings of rejection, returning to the city only to eat. Perhaps they would begin catching fish in the sea again, something they knew how to do, their only real ability. And whenever they went back to the city they would again face the humiliation of not even knowing why they were being humiliated. Going less and less often until one day they just did not return. It could not be called cruel. It was merely the ongoing process of natural selection. It could not be condemned or praised. It just was.

Vaintè looked around at the uneven ranks of uncomprehending bodies and faces. Eager to understand: fated never to know. The city had not rejected them because the city could not do that. They had rejected themselves. Many, most undoubtedly, had died once they had moved away from the protected shores of the city. Taken in their sleep by the creatures of the night. So these were not the lowest of the low; those were already dead. These were the rejected ones who were still alive. Vaintè felt a sudden kinship with them for she was also rejected and alive. She looked around at their simple faces and signed warmth and peace. Then, the simplest of simple signs.

“Together.”

“Have your Daughters finally learned to work together in harmony and peace as prescribed by Ugunenapsa?” Ambalasei asked suspiciously. Enge signed modified confirmation.

“Ugunenapsa did not express it in exactly that manner but, yes, we are learning to understand Ugunenapsa’s directives and have applied them to our daily lives.”

“Desire for observation of outcome.”

“Instantly available. I think that the preparation of food will be most suitable. Necessary for life, equally necessary cooperation.”

“You are not employing the Sorogetso again at this task?” Overtones of dark suspicion. Enge’s quick reaction was a sharp negative.

“The Sorogetso no longer enter the city.”

“Half of the problem. Does anyone visit them from the city?”

“Your orders were clear.”

“My orders were always clear — yet the vile Ninperedapsa, who you still insist on calling Far!, went there with her minions and her proselytizing enthusiasms.”

“And was badly bitten, as you know since you were the one who dressed her wound. She rests and still has not recovered; her followers stay close to her.”

“May her recovery be a slow one,” Ambalasei said with enthusiastic malice, then pointed to the giant eel thrashing feebly on the riverbank. “No shortage of these creatures yet?”

“None. The river teems with them. Now look, there, you will see a perfect example of the spirit of Ugunenapsa at work.”

“I see Daughters of Dilatoriness actually hard at labor. I am struck dumb.”

“You will notice that the one who directs the operation is Satsat who was my companion in Alpèasak. The workers chose her because of the punishment she received there for her beliefs, and for her survival in the face of every adversity.”

“Not exactly what I would call prime qualifications for leading fish-butcher.”

“As wise Ambalasei knows this is a fairly mindless occupation that any Yilanè of intelligence could do. Since all of us labor equally in the cooperative spirit of Ugunenapsa, it is a great honor to be chosen to supervise the work of others. Satsat is doubly appreciated because she has organized the work so well that if all labor equally and enthusiastically, if that is done, then there is always the possibility that the work will be finished early and she will be able to speak to them in detail of the principles of Ugunenapsa. Today she will tell them of the eighth principle — which I know that you have not heard. See, they stop now to listen. You are very lucky.”

Ambalasei rolled her eyes towards the sky in appreciation of the opportunity. “Was my luck arranged by you?”

“Ambalasei sees everything, knows everything. I did speak of the fact you would be here and grateful for enlightenment concerning the eighth principle. Which I lacked the opportunity to reveal to you.”

Ambalasei saw no escape from the well-baited trap. She settled back on her tail with a grunt. “Time for brief listening since I am fatigued. Brief.”

Satsat spoke as soon as Enge signed to her, climbing onto one of the enzyme vats so all could see her clearly.

“The eighth, the last, and the principle that clearly guides our lives once we have accepted the words of Ugunenapsa ourselves. This principle states that the Daughters of Life bear the responsibility to help all others to know the spirit of life, and therefore discover the truth of the way of life. Think of the significance of this all-too-brief yet all-too-clear statement. We who know the Way must help others to learn and understand, to consciously follow the spirit of life. However as soon as this truth is perceived two immensely important questions arise. Firstly — how can we attempt to do this in the face of those who seek our deaths for speaking out? Secondly — how can we maintain the peace and harmony that affirms, while we continue to live by causing death? Must we cease to eat to avoid killing that which nourishes us?”

She stopped when Ambalasei struggled to her feet, waddled forward and dug a piece of fish from the enzyme bath and popped it into her mouth. “Have this one emptied by dark. Gratitude for information on eighth principle, necessity for departure now.”

“My thanks to you for presence, Ambalasei. You might like to hear my amplifications…”

“To respond with a succinct answer. No. All Eight Principles now understood, application of seventh appreciated, departure now.” She turned and signed Enge after her.

“I am pleased. Your Daughters are actually capable of doing the work of fargi despite their disputatious intelligence. I must go upriver for a few days so I take much pleasure from the fact that the city will function well during my absence.”

“This is Ambalasokei, the city of Ambalasei . You have given it — and us — life. It is a pleasure to widen/enhance this gift.”

“Well spoken. And there is my assistant Setessei waiting by the uruketo. We leave now. I look forward to witnessing other wonders of organization upon my return.”

Setessei put down the large container she was carrying to help Ambalasei onto the broad back of the uruketo, then signalled to Elem in the fin above.

“You have instructed her?” Ambalasei asked.

“As you ordered. We go first to the beach above the lake where one of the crew already waits in a boat.”

“The boat is better trained than the last one?”

“The same creature, but very much under control now.”

The voyage was a short one, transferring to shore by boat far easier than Ambalasei had expected. She grunted as she climbed down to the beach, waving Setessei after her.

“Bring the case, follow me. You, crewmember, stay with the boat until we return.”

They trod the familiar paths towards the island in the tributary, where the Sorogetso lived. As they approached the tree bridge they saw someone crossing it, coming towards them.

“We begin here,” Ambalasei said. “Open container.”

There was worry as well as obedience in Setessei’s body as she placed the container on the ground and opened it. She took out the hèsotsan and handed it to Ambalasei.

“Unsureness and fear,” she signed.

“The responsibility is mine,” Ambalasei said with grim certainty. “It will be done. There is no other way.”

The small Sorogetso, Morawees, came trustingly forward; she had never seen a weapon before.

She stopped and made a sign of greeting.

Ambalasei raised the weapon, aimed carefully. And fired.

The Sorogetso crumpled and fell, lay unmoving on the ground.