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Beyond the gate leading to Serpentine's Garden stands the famous statue of St. Dionysos. The tauroid head thrusting out from the hood caught the first rays of the sun on its burnished horns. Adama paused briefly before the statue and nodded to it and then passed through the gate. I followed.
Serpentine was waiting for us. She closed the gate behind us and then trundled around to the front, withdrawing her dexetels into her canopy with a snap. She spoke aloud for Adama's benefit. "Call me Serpentine. Mmmmm. Sleep room for Adama is ready. Occupy now. Mmmmmmm. You will follow Serpentine. Now." She turned on the gravel path with a harsh sound and began to move away.
She did not offer a word of welcome. Serpentine is a gifted nurse where the unwell are concerned but she has few circuits devoted to the social graces. Adama did not seem to mind. He seemed totally preoccupied, oblivious.
Serpentine led us around a large wooden screen upon which is written in early Callrine hieroglyphics the story of this particular garden.
Gardens like the one we were now entering are as close as the Callrines ever came to having a church. It is a sacred place filled with earth magic. At its center is a traditional Pectanile.
Ah, the Pectanile. I shall now explain that to you."256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaaCjez5YXu
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I have already said that the Callrines have a nature religion and an earth culture. These two qualities are united in the Pectanile. It is a statue made from am dense white stone quarried at one of the large islands in the North Sea. The whole of the planet is dotted with Pectanile statues and every sacred garden has one. To the Callrines, the Pectanile is a tangible expression of their feeling for life. It is, if you wish, a focus of symbolism, and is capable of many interpretations. Most Callrines carry a little Pectanile about their person.
Here, as well as I can describe it to you, is what a Pectanile looks like. Its top is open like the neck of a flask. The sides are generally curved, swelling to bear a resemblance to buttocks on one side and breasts on the other though they do not depict either of these. The main thing to understand is that the shape is organic, like a root or tuber. Part of its beauty resides in its not being specific. The Pectanile rests on a solid spreading base which usually continues for several maxims under the ground.
Standing on the ground before the Pectanile and looking up, you will see a cave entrance. It is located between and below the twin nodules which might be testes or breasts. Steps are carved outside the Pectanile and lead inside. It is very easty to climb right up inside a Pectanile. Inside the opening in the top meets the opening in the bottom in a complex relationship of chambers. The top opening narrows to a funnel. When there is rain, the water runs down this funnel and drips into a cistern or settling pool. The overflow dribbles out through the cave mouth down a channel cut in the steps. Opposite the pool are twin chambers with a stone bench in each. This is a place of contemplation. Any person who so desires can climb up inside a Pectanile and sit and stare at the water or see the blue sky or the stars reflected.
When the first members of the Benevolent Order arrived on Gemon they tried to analyze the Callrine people. Two main theories came to dominate.
1.) The Pectanile was seen as a representation of the female Callrine body. The cave entrance at the base represented the cunt, the chambers and settling pool inside it represented the womb and the bulges outside were the breasts. All very coherent. In opposite to this theory, it was pointed out that the Callrine female had four breasts and hence the Pectanile could not be a representation of her since it only had two "breasts."
2.) The Pectanile was really an idealization of the Callrine penis. According to this theory, the "breasts" of the woman are really the "bollocks" of the man. The water chamber is the sperm sack. The cave at the base is nothing more than an entryway.
Nowadays, it is generally accepted that neither theory is right and that both have kernels of truth. To the Callrines of both sexes, the Pectanile's virtue resides in its not being specifically this or specifically that. It is both specific and other. Ambiguity can be reassuring.
The locating of a Pectanile on the planet's face is very specific and there is ample evidence to show that the Pectanile were placed first and then a garden developed. I am told that the surface of the planet flows with energy lines. Those that can see them liken their appearance to the reflection of ripples in water. A Pectanile is always placed at a focus of these energies and from them it derives its potency. Conversely, a Pectanile stabilizes the energy flow of a the planet and keeps it "rubba," by which they mean healthy.
Well, I must confess that I do not understand this. If there are such energies about I cannot detect them. I have hovered over many a Pectanile and peered down into its stump. I have even managed to enter some of the larger ones by the lower entrance and have floated up to the level of the pool with my ever-sensitive instruments at full power....
Nothing. I have felt nothing. Am I the poorer for that? Or are the humans and Callrines living in a sentimental delusion. I must leave that question open. Ah, such is the Pectanile….256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVmwdwShaSJ
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In procession, we followed a path under high trees beside a curbstone wall. Set in the wall were openings like caves. These (partly ruined today) were a section of the garden's Fortress of Sanctuary. Serpentine, you may remember, mentioned such. Two Callrine women popped out their heads and watched us as we passed. Serpentine told me later that both women were recovering from illnesses and had chosen to convalesce in a traditional garden close to the Pectanile.
Beyond the Fortress of Sanctuary we passed through another gate, which Serpentine carefully locked behind us and entered the garden proper. Apart from local species such as the P'tanna or Diffidence Tree which has thousands of pink cuplike flowers which close into tight clusters of berries whenever anyone approaches, there were masses of roses and poppies and giant eexar trees and old Kobol papyrus reeds. Bordering the path that we walked was a low rambling shrub called Ka'atrpha or Traveler's Mate. This plant has velvety black flowers that open during the day and turn pink and white after dark and give off heat! According to reports, travelers have survived frosty nights out in the open by snuggling down among those plants. According to Callrine folklore, the Ka'atrapha only grows where one of the soil gods has slept. As we passed, the flowers were gradually turning pale and I could detect their warmth like a glow beneath ashes.
Serpentine led us steadily on. We heard the roar of a waterfall, though we could not see it, and a few moments later crossed a wooden bridge over a fast-flowing stream. Morning was advancing and the sun was already warming the earth and casting long shadows. Wraiths of mist moved between the tree trunks and twisted by the shrubs.
There were many trees here which are not native either to old Kobol or Gemon and which were brought here by one of the ancient missionaries of St. Dionysos named Starbuck. There was the giant Constructor's Tree whose wood, once cut, becomes harder and harder as it dries until nails cannot be pounded into it. There were groves of the Redeemer Tree which produces berries that are fortifying and whose roots contain blisters of water. The berries, eaten out of season, can be addictive, unfortunately.
Finally we came to a high stone wall. This was part of the garden's inner wall. Anchored to it was a small Callrine house crafted from a single Featherfin Gungneeer egg-case. It was bedded into the soil and its age obviously predated by many centuries the arrival of the Benevolent Order. Here Serpentine paused. "Your retreat place, Adama," she said.
Adama nodded and carried his scant belongings into the small, spotlessly clean cell and began to unpack. I shall describe this room to you in some detail since it was to this very room that Adama returned after the destruction of the Galactica.
The room epitomized a quality which has been called "Callrine poverty." The walls were of a gray-green plaster which had been applied directly onto the shell casing. There were no paintings or wall-hangings. One circular window looked out into the garden. With regard to the furnishings, there was nothing more than was strictly needed. There was a polished wood table. In addition to the table there was a low bed with a dark green cover of Callrine flax. Matching this was an exercise bench of the kind found in most Callrine homes and which had been adapted to accommodate the size of Adama. Beside it stood a tall cupboard for storing clothes and spare linen. In a separate alcove were the only examples of human technology: a simple overhead shower and a simple water-flush. Relief from this functional austerity was provided by several branches of Mosca lavender which stood in a Callrine jar on the polished table. The fragrance softened the air and the color brought life to the drab room. These qualities are in no way diminished if we realize that pragmatic Serpentine chose these blooms because the perfume drives away flies and the color can tranquilize.
Adama unpacked slowly, almost ritualistically, placing his clothes methodically in the cupboard and his toilet articles in the shower alcove. He had a picture of Ila and his children and this he placed upon the table next to the Mosca lavender. Then he stripped off his robe and underclothes and yawned hugely scratching himself simultaneously on his crotch and ribs. "Vulpa," he said. "You can record that my first positive decision since entering this retreat is to try and sleep. I feel heavy and sad and don't know why. By rights I should be happy. But I'm not. (At this point Adama climbed into bed.) Is this because of any turning point in our lives we are aware of the alternatives which we must now (yawn) forsake? Don't bother to reply. I'm just (yawn) ruminating. Will you be with me for the whole forty days?"
"I may occasionally have to visit Magister Cain if there are any special translating tasks. Beyond that I am to remain with you and assist you in any way possible."
"Good. (Pause) I'm glad you---(yawn) I'm glad-----(pause) There's a high tower to---and cold hills to...."
I have never watched a human fall asleep before. Adama's voice became a drawl which lost articulation with his first deep breath. The face relaxed and became vacant and vulnerable. I saw for the first time the face with which I became so deeply familiar after his return.
Serpentine moved into the room and picked up and folded Adama's clothes. A dexetel snaked out and lightly nipped his earlobe. Another dexetel reached across his chest and dipped into his armpit. Serpentine took readings. "He will sleep for several centons," she said. "There is a great disturbance in him. Has he been in an accident?"
"Not really. Though your question makes sense. He is faced with a hard decision. He has been invited to captain the Galactica."
If I had expected any reaction from Serpentine I would have been disappointed. Spaceships are spaceships to Serpentine. I suspect she either thinks of them as bringers of death, as in the War of Stupid Fools, or as Pain Houses, in which she thinks she might serve professionally, or as bigger and more complex machines than ourselves. As I have indicated before, Serpentine lacks curiosity and philosophy. She has a basic drive to protect and nurture life. She will patch up a warrior: but it would never occur to her to investigate and exterminate the causes of war.
Which brings me to a speculation which I hope you will forgive at this inopportune juncture in the story. What would happen if Ila and Adama were to mate? (Not literally, of course.) I think there would be a contradiction and we tin cans cannot function without contradiction. We must always be seeking the radical sole cause. But, if an asteroid or cold phyrrite had somehow gained the gift of life and evolved into us, then maybe we could have tolerated contradiction. As it is, we are the offspring of the human brain. We are not autonomous and never can be. So, Ila and Adama are good and will stay that way, while solo. End of speculation.256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ91IJPoDFhI
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Serpentine attached a little radio pad behind Adama's ear. This allowed her to monitor activity at a distance. She would know if he was lifting from sleep. "I will serve him broth when he awakes," she said and then turned and rolled from the room.
What was there for me to do? I cannot read dreams. There seemed to be no point in waiting like a bodyguard while my charge slept. I decided to explore Serpentine's domain. I let myself drift through the door.
The morning was well advanced and the sun had vanished. A light rain was coming in from the sea and bending over the tops of leaves and running down the trunks and stems and entering the soil. This is not good weather for machines but I have survived much worse---much, much worse---in my time. I rose up through the branches of a Constructor Tree and let its thin outer fronds slide over my domed bulk. In the top canopy of the tree I paused and scanned. From this height I could see over the walls of Serpentine's Garden and up the hillside of the Great Caprican Monastery. There were people bustling. It was an ordinary day.
Scanning around, I could see the hills of the garden and the varied patterns of the trees. In the middle, standing tall, rose the shape of the Pectanile. It was placed on a small plateau almost on the crest of a hill. Dampened by the rain, the stonework was creamy. I drifted towards it, noticing the many tracks that ran through the garden, all leading to the Pectanile hill. Many trees were in blossom. There were headbrushes, their massive flowers glowing like lanterns, red and purple and pink. Beside them were the blazing orange spires of the Orange Knots and the deep blue clusters of the Henta Tree. This is a very rare tree and hard to grow, I am told. It comes from a distant and very cold planet and the tree is thought to be telepathic! I have never been able to understand that, a telepathic plant. However, it is the human confreres who have reported this and they should know for they deal in such kinds of contact. I have it on record that one confrere, Tolen by name, came to believe that one of the Henta Trees hated him and despite the entreaties of his friends and deep counsel of his training, he went out and hung himself from one of its high branches. That means that he must have climbed. That argues compulsion coming from somewhere. On such things I ponder, trying to understand the human. I spent several hours drifting through these trees, trying to sense their natures. But as always in such quests I discovered nothing beyond the obvious facts that they have life and resonate.
I drifted to the hill where the Pectanile stand and then cruised over its open mouth. I could see down inside it to where its pool of rainwater reflected the gray sky. It reflected me, like the face of a giant warrior peering over the rim of some ancient fort or staring into his ambrosa mug before battle.
From this aspect the Pectanile looked like a plant, a Pitcher Plant maybe, which gathers water in order to drown its victims or a Saala in which the Callrines keep fish. Ah! That similarity could be another origin of the Pectanile. I have never seen that noted before!
There was sudden movement below me. One of the Callrine women clambered out of the cave mouth of the Pectanile and down the stairs. She jumped down to the ground and looked up and saw me and screamed and ran away into the bushes. I had disturbed her in her meditation. She had been resting inside the artifact as part of her cure, maybe staring into the rainwater pool, when my savage face appeared.
I meant no harm. I was not spying. Why do people so often regard the unexpected or the strange as threatening?
I moved on. I drifted west and flew over the river which here passed through a narrow gorge. There were limestone shapes on either side of the gorge where small tributaries entered the main stream. The rock had been carved into shapes like animals by the rushing streams. Perhaps Callrine artistry had also played its part for the Callrines love finding patterns in Nature.
There must have been minerals present too for the river became a bright, greenish blue as it flowed over the limestone and swirled in the pools. I explored the caves, many of which were large enough for me to enter. There were Callrine drawings inside. I was surprised, though I should not have been. When I thought about this afterward I concluded that I could think of no place more apt for the frank depictions of Callrine life than a cave where water flows. I made a thorough photographic survey.
Beyond the gorge the river started to meander and became a marsh which lapped and quaked through many low arches and so flowed out to the sea. Seagulls were feeding with a shrill clamor, beating the water with their wings as they competed for the little eels in the rich ooze. I paused in my wanderings to watch. At that moment as I looked down on the wheeling birds, as I drifted high over the garden wall and came in sight of the sea. Serpentine called me. Adama was waking up.
The waking mili-centons of a human are precious for in those moments a human may utter ideas from the deepest parts of the mind. Invariably, unless specially trained, the human cannot remember the moment of dreaming. Yet Adama might need those involuntary thoughts to help him with his decision.
I flew like a thrown rock the short distance from the sea to the inner garden wall where Adama's cell was located. Serpentine was heaving herself over the threshold reminding me of one of the old automatic incendiary landrams which we used to see in the War of Stupid Fools. Of course, they utilize similar technology.
As I swooped down, I noticed how well this cell was made. It gave an impression of smallness, of tidy domesticity and of great antiquity. Yet Serpentine could enter quickly and maneuver. I began to suspect then, and subsequently verified, that this simple cell was in reality a complex hospital room with facilities to cater for Callrines, humans and Close-Metab aliens, should the need arise.
Adama was asleep but turning restlessly and he had his hands up over his ears as if to stop a voice he didn't want to hear. Then he put his arms to his side and woke up peacefully. He stared at us for a moment, without comprehension, and then laughed. "I have woken in many strange places," he said, "but never to be met with such care and attention. Ila had better watch out. You'll ruin me."
"You are hungry," said Serpentine in her matter-of-fact way. She has no humor. A section of her tin belly slid open to reveal a tray on which were cutlets, steamed fish, bread and a beaker of hot black toovoo which is mildly intoxicating and which the Callrines drink at all hours. It is made from a variety of seaweed.
Adama received the tray and started eating with gusto. Serpentine watched him. Her eyes are twin lamps set high upon her frame. She was just glad to see him eat. I noted that there was a kind of glee about him.
When he had finished Serpentine received the tray and dishes. "Will you rest again or take mild exercise?" she questioned. "Mild exercise helps the digestive tract and is advis...."
"All right. Mild exercise it shall be. A walk in the garden."
"Would you like me to accompany you?" I asked, bobbing in the air.
"Not at this time," he replied, and I had the impression that Adama was deliberately excluding me. I decided to press my case.
"I have great powers of analysis," I said. "I can detect patterns."
Adama looked at me and nodded. "I am aware of your powers, Vulpa, and when I need you, rest assured I will ask you. But at present I must be alone. I have no thoughts. I want to ride my indecision. I will be strange, but I will eventually know my mind." With that he swung from his bed.
Adama dressed himself in loose Callrine robes. These allow a lot of air to the body. He was ready in minutes. He walked outside and followed the path which led back to the river. When he came to the Savior Trees he branched off the path and climbed a short steep hill at the top of which were stoops of sweet-smelling bracken. He trod an area flat and settled down, lying with his back against a tree and his legs spread. In the distance, maybe half a mile from him, was the shape of the Pectanile.
He saw that I had followed him, drifting at a discreet distance, and he waved me away, as if I were a mere daggit he could shoo from a vegetable garden. I had no choice but to obey, for I was not a spy.256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyDRuZYrsQp
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So I shall tell you. During the whole time that Adama was in the garden, he never once asked me for help. I did the occasional letter for him and nothing more. He never once shared with me his thinking, and that in itself, in retrospect, was sinister.
Two days later, as you know, I was called away to discover what was happening with Ila and why she had posted the divorce declaration.
When I returned to the garden I found that Adama had indeed changed. He had taken to walking about the garden naked. His sleep pajamas were erratic and sometimes he slept outside, with just a blanket over him. He rolled up close to the Maynarr, with its pinkish-white flowers glowing over him.
I have said before that Serpentine's Garden is an ancient Callrine garden. In combination its trees and shrubs can have an awesome effet on the human metabolism. The smell of some leaves can bring sweet dreams. Others burned and the smoke can induce trance. There are glades of silence which I cannot explain but where there are no sounds save the flexing of the trees. It is as if such areas were surrounded by a fine membrane that filters out any distracting sounds. There are places of moist shadow where the sun never reaches and the plants grow pale. Occasionally, especially close to the Pectanile, you will come across small clearings in which flowers have been planted. This is an old custom and one which is now falling into disuse but in the days before the garden became part of the Great Caprican Monastery, the garden was a place for lovemaking. Those who felt their lovemaking had been especially successful or significant would often return to the garden and plant flowers and sometimes vegetables. Some parts of the garden are left wild and if you were to ask a native Callrine such as Ila about these area she would say that they are for the old spirits. Anyone can walk there, but there is no planting and no cutting. Many parts of this planet remain wild. On the rare but significant occasions when a Callrine commits self-termination, it is invariably in one of the gardens.
I mention this all solely to document that Adama wandered throughout the whole garden. He entered the wild parts where I could not follow him and came out stung or bruised or with a twisted ankle. He lay on his back in the sunshine in the flower glades, indecent as a daggit. He climbed into the Pectanile and spent centons beside its silent pool. And all the time, though I could not gather his words, he was talking to himself. He was, of course, seeking out some mystical experience which would vindicate or sterilize his invitation to become the Commander of the Galactica.
Well, it is an old saying among humans that if you go seeking out a mystical experience you will surely find one. And where better to go looking than in a Callrine garden?
As Adama identified with the spirit of the garden, so he slowly shed some of the trappings of civilization and became simpler and more concentrated. This is the essence of retreat, is it not: that everything becomes more completely charged and more tranquil? The narcotics floating in the air of the garden helped too, no doubt. And just as day follows night and fruit follows blossom so Adama achieved his mystical experience which he took to be affirmation. Let us acknowledge also that if ever a man were prone to mystical visitation, that man was Adama.256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXekq27CxPY
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* * *
The events I am about to describe may provide a partial answer: certainly they made me feel the inadequacy of my metal shanks and the dull spirituality of my bio-crystalline brain.
On a sunny morning post-rain, Adama was sitting outside his room whittling on a stick. There were many sticks about as the previous night there had been a gale and trees and shrubs were lodged and broken. He looked totally at peace: a strong man, astride a stump, relaxed and yet well-knit and ready. There came a noise from a thicket, a rattling followed by a mewing, and anyone who lived on that world would recognize the sound. It was a hicatz, an eight-legged, grublike creature which at maturity can reach the size of a domestic cattig. A hicatz spends most of its life burrowing inside trees where it can anchor with its mouth, fringed with saw-like teeth, while it inserts its long black tongue into the main sap lines. But they can be dangerous. They are aggressive. They can spit venom and they can climb with astonishing agility, sometimes humped like a squirrel, sometimes spread with all legs stretched, a bit like a bat. The rattle is a warning. The mewing is an expression of anger, I am told. In combination they signify a creature that will attack without any provocation and which is to be avoided.
Adama paused in his whittling and listened with his head cocked over on one side. The sound continued, growing in intensity, and it was obvious that the hicatz was trapped or incapacitated in some way. A Callrine would have left the area or looked around for a spear, but Adama stood up and put his knfe to one side. He glanced around to make sure that he was not seen and then walked toward the edge of the clearing. He did not see me for I was high in an oak tree and hidden in leaves. I guessed at what he intended to do and sent a message to Serpentine warning her that she might be needed. She was at the far end of the garden and started hurrying back to us.
Adama walked directly toward the rattling and mewing and I could hear him whistling between his teeth and murmuring a song. He parted the branches of a fallen pastepot tree which showed the odd stunting which is characteristic of hicatz infestation. Adama held back the branches and revealed the hicatz. I could see it. It was partly crushed against the trunk of the pastepot tree by a branch from the neighboring tree. Two of its short legs were broken and hung useless. Its mouth was open and its ring of teeth exposed. The black tongue was coiled inside the wide mouth. It was ready to spit. Hicatzen can spit and they can lunge and bite. The mouth closes over its prey which is then killed with a bite and ejaculated, for the hicatz dines solely on tree sap.
Adama reached in and touched the hicatz. Folly. I rose from my perch in the oak fully expecting to see Adama reeling back with poison in his eyes and the hicatz locked like some monstrous growth onto his arm or his cest or worst, his throat. I once saw the remains of a daggit that had been killed by a hicatz. It looked as if it had been flayed with wire. But there was no convulsion among the branches.
Adama slid one arm into the narrow space between the hicatz's tubby legs and supported its body. This brought his face close to its blind open mouth. With his other arm he bent back the branch of the tree that pinned the creature. The branch yielded and he lifted the hicatz free. It held to his arm with its legs and its mouth closed like a button.
I retired and buried myself in the leaves in the oak and watched. Adama carried the hicatz to the stump where he had been working and set it down. He touched the two legs and I saw the creature writhe but it still did not bite or spit. There was little he could do for the broken legs but I saw him examine them with his fingers. Once he touched his fingers to his mouth and then rubbed his saliva into the creased skin. While doing this he held the hicatz as a woman holds a baby when she is relieving it of wind.
At that moment Serpentine came trundling into the garden at full speed, her twin tracks churning the gravel of the path. Adama called for her to be quiet. She stopped and her twin lamps surveyed him. "Has the hicatz hurt you?" she asked.
"No," he replied. And then his eyes narrowed and he looked at her sharply. "How did you know that I found a hicatz?" he asked.
"Vulpa reported you were in danger," she replied artlessly. I do not know if she understands what a lie is. Lying is hard for machines, even for cunning wordsmiths like me.
Adama looked around the clearing. "Come out, Vulpa, wherever you are hiding," he called and, of course, I obeyed. I emerged from the oak and lowered down to soil level. "If you are so interested in what I am doing, why not come close? But not too close. I don't want you to scare it."
Adama selected some sticks from the ground and split them and shaped them into short white splints. He spoke to Serpentine and she obligingly handed over some white bandages. Carefully but deftly he tied up the wounded legs while the creature lay like something stunned or in ecstatic trance, its mouth opening and closing slowly.
"Where did you learn to do this?" I asked as he finished and set the creature on its legs. He watched it for a few seconds with his fingers resting on its head. He did not speak but picked the hicatz up carefully and carried it back to the paste-pot tree. He placed it in the tree where it could squirm into one of its several burrows and there rest and feed.
Adama came back wiping his hands. Some venom had leaked onto him. Serpentine offered a napkin which he accepted.
"They taught us much when I joined the Benevolent Order," he replied. "Splints, tourniquets, and the like."
Splints and tourniquets! He chose to deliberately misunderstand me. Where I wondered had he learned to charm animals? The truth, as I realized later, was that he had not learned. It was a gift. Some days after this incident I chanced to hover close to the pastepot tree where the hicatz was sequestered. It registered me and spat at me. Thus, a creature that did not have sufficient intelligence to distinguish between an animal and a machine, could nevertheless respond to the will and affection of a human. That needed thinking about.256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWRqTy60aHt
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After this incident, there were many other occasions when I was able to observe Adama's canny ability with creatures. I will recount just one more for it has some interesting philosophy.
We were by the river. This must have been two sectans after Adama entered the garden and as far as I could see he was living the life of a lotus eater and did not seem concerned with coming to a decision. Oh, I know all about procrastination in humans. Adama sat naked on a rock with his feet in the stream. He was perfectly still, like a stranded tree trapped after a flood. He was whistling softly and staring into the deeper part of the rippling water.
I approached slowly, as I have learned, and settled down in the gravel behind Adama. Mili-centons slipped by and then there was commotion in the water. A ridged and bony-plated tail rose and slapped down on the water sending spray to the distant bank. High-joined legs scrambled for purchase on the submerged stones and a creature like a giant crayfish heaved itself up. Its dozen or so feelers were spread like the tines of a ruined fan in front of it. I recognized a Rune cray or Farmer cray as they sometimes call it.
The Rune cray. There is a legend among the Callrines that they derived the characters for their writing from the symbols found on the tails of male Rune cray. Hence the name. I think there is truth in this for I have studied Callrine script with the careful eye of a pattern assessor and I have studied early archaeological remains. The cray tail provides a consistent and natural sequence of symbols.
The name "Farmer cray" comes from the cray's practice of building nets underwater. Inside these it traps other marine creatures upon which it finally feeds.
The cray reared up out of the water and for the first time revealed its claws which were almost as big as a man's hand and were black as night. It is a wonder that the creature can lift such massive devices on so spindly a body. Adama intensified his whistling and crooning and reached toward the cray. It came forward, tentatively and with claws open and advanced.
"Now watch this," said Adama. He took the proffered claw and shook it much as I have seen him shake hands with a fellow human. Then he placed his finger within the claw and the claw gently closed.
"Does it hurt?" I asked.
"Oh, no," he replied. "The Rune cray is careful. It knows to the thousandth part of a gram how yielding my flesh is and how delicate. If we were enemies it could snip off my fingers. Snip. Snip. Just like that. But now I am bringing it happiness."
"How?"
Adama worked his finger to and fro within the claw, limbering the cray's whole arm so that it had to move close to remain standing. I may say that it crouched in front of Adama and I have never seen such a strange sight: man and beast, sharing a strange voiceless ritual which brought them both pleasure. "The claw is so sensitive," said Adama. "The pleasure is in touching that sensitivity. Like with a woman. It will squeeze me to the point of pain and rock to and fro over that point, enjoying itself."
"How do you do this?" I asked.
"I just do. The main thing is not to be afraid and to match your speed to that of the creature. Find the song that it likes. Singing is key."
"How do you know the song?"
"You just do. It's not a song set. The song is just a convention to transmit your feelings. The animal does the rest. But don't be afraid and don't be too analytical. If you begin to watch yourself too closely the creature will know and it will resent you." As he said this, Adama spread his thumb away from the palm of his hand and the cray immediately swung its other claw up and seized his thumb. Adama slowly came to his feet and lifted the whole cray off the ground. Its tail stood stiff and its feelers trailed over his arm like the whiskers of a cat. After a few moments he lowered it back into the water. Its legs spread to take its weight and then gently the large claws opened and released Adama's thumb and forefinger. "You must feel about it the way it feels about you. Let it be the master. Aggression is like ice. It numbs. But you must not be subservient either. If that Rune cray had thought for one moment it had me in its power it would have tried to eat me or drag me down to its lair. No, it recognized a true." As he spoke the Run cray backed into the water, picking its way delicately before launching and plunging. The last we saw of it was its tail, widespread, driving it down under the surface.
Adama grinned at me. "Do we still have something to teach the wise old bio-crystalline Vulpa?" He banged on my dome with the flat of his hand. Then he did something most unexpected. He climbed onto me. "Can you lift and carry me home?" he asked. I tried but I could not and so he walked away from me and left me in the shingle.
Let me say that while I believed Adama's explanation concerning his power over creatures, I did not believe that he knew the whole story. He was more the agent than he allowed though I am convinced that he was ignorant of the extent of his power. In some strange way he could hypnotize. I am not comfortable with the idea of telepathy for I cannot also think and I am in no way telepathic, but his power suggests telepathy.
The important question now is, was Adama able to manipulate humans? His immense sensitivity to creatures as diverse as the tree hicatz and the Rune cray would suggest that he could. Not intentionally. Let us be very clear about that. Not intentionally, but effectively. To quote a human truism again: the greatest strength is the greatest weakness. Sympathy for all may mean sympathy for none.256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKR1mkXgwnp
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I will now discuss Adama's mystical experience.
As the days passed Adama became more and more a creature of the garden. I had no idea what was happening to him. He avoided contact with me.
What I am about to present to you are two versions of the truth. The first is my description of Adama's actions as I observed them on the 34th day of his retreat. The second is a transcript of his commentary during his convalescence in the garden. Me first.
I had noted that Adama was spending more and more time by the river. Running water seemed to give him particular pleasure. I also knew that he was hallucinating as I would find him at all hours, crouched by a shrub or sitting in branches, lazing in the flowers or wandering on the borders of the wild area, and always he was deep in conversation. He did the talking, hardly ever pausing to listen. Unfortunately, all I could detect were whispers from his lips. He cold have been praying after the Callrine fashion, that is while walking. As I say, if he knew that I was about he took steps to avoid me.
On this day he was down by the river at the place where the river ran through fantastic shapes of limestone. There was a frantic quality about him. He was waving his arms in vague exercise motions. He had been eating some of the berries that grow by the river and their juice, running in rivers from his lips, had stained his mouth and arms like a tattoo. He saw me and waved, beckoning. Curious as to this change in him, I swooped down, noting there was white spittle in the corners of his mouth and his eyes were focused on some distant event or internal landscape. Serpentine was standing patiently on the riverbank and so I assumed that Adama had done no harm to himself with the berries.
Solitude, the perfumes of the garden and his strange diet had worked to liberate forces deep in his psyche. I have read about such. He had been building to this for some time. Adama was in a state of vital trance. Other humans, had they been present, would have found him an awesome force. I have mentioned his ability with animals. In his present state I truly believe he could have made plants wither, flowers open or seeds start. The two Callrine women who were recuperating in the garden stood under the trees on the bank holding hands and looking at him. It was my guess that in some odd way, Adama had summoned them to come and bear witness. I am also sure that Adama did not know in any conscious way that I was there. Maybe, if he saw me at all, I wa sto him a bird with gilded plumage.
Adama was naked, as was usual now. He waded out into the middle of the stream beating his hands upon the glossy surface. The river moved fast there and flowed like glass. He stood to his midriff in water. Above him was a limestone shape like the head of an equine. Ferns sprouted from its nostrils and brown roots wound about it like veins. Standing in the middle of the stream Adama was able to reach up and place his hands against the rock. He held himself braced and steady. The water buffeted his midriff and he moved ecstatically against it. I did not know what he was doing, but the two Callrine women laughed and one of them called something in Callrine but the words I did not know: they sounded dialectal.
Then he relaxed suddenly and crouched down in the water and it swirled around his neck and head.
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Adama's attention shifted to the side of the river where trees grew in the water between limestone jetties. He seemed to be watching something move. Suddenly he strode over to the side and reached up with his hands as if touching an object. He could see something that I could not. He stood every still for several minutes and finally toppled back into the water and swam with the stream.
When he emerged he came straight to me. He was beaming and he said, "Adama. A message for Magister Caine. I accept the command of the Galactica. A message for Ila. To prepare for departure if she desires." Then he dived again and did not emerge until he was far down the river where the honey and green limestone overhangs the river and is shaped into dark caves.
I wasted no time. I did not attempt to explain that Ila had already departed with a trader to a distant part of the planet. Adama would find that out for himself soon enough and I calculated that his decision must have taken all possibilities into account. I did not at that time have an appreciation of human mysticism.
That very day Adama bade Serpentine farewell and joined Cain for a night of vigil. His die was cast. I resist the pun.256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmm515ZzGlB
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Here now in Adama's own words is what happened to him. It is a strange tale and again I must ask you to decide what is fact and what is symbol.
Adama was well on the road to recovery when we made this recording. His mind was relatively uncluttered and he was cooperating in a whole series of recordings concerning his mental state and the Galactica. The season was early summer and Adama was seated in a dell below the curved shape of the Pectanile.
VULPA: It seemed to me in those days that not only were you avoiding me, but you were almost willing yourself into an abnormal state. Is this so?
ADAMA: Perfectly true on both counts. You were a constant reminder of reason and order and yet I knew that I had to delve beneath reason to our most fundamental faculty of understanding.
VULPA: That does not compute, I fear.
ADAMA: I mean a state of creative dreaming, a state in which the distinction we draw between the imaginary and the real becomes blurred. I needed to reach this if I was to come to any understanding of myself.
That I failed is irrelevant. I failed, but the procedure I adopted was correct and were I faced with the same question again I would act in the same way, again, though the conclusion would be different. I am not sure why Cain wanted you there with me. I assumed he wanted you to report to him. I had no need of a scribe. I did not need language, which is a code of names. I needed to become the name maker.
It's like this, Vulpa. Reason is a rope onto which the intellect can cling while suspended above a dark pit of unknowing, yet true understanding can only come when the rope is relinquished. In that moment of relinquishment we do not fall: the darkness clarifies and becomes something else, charged with hope and possibility and, yes, let it be admitted, tragedy sometimes. The rope is always there for without it we become mad. Reason asserts itself and protects us from madness by discovering patterns in the chaos of our experiences but first we have to open ourselves, unafraid, to chaos. (pause) There, does that make more sense?
VULPA: Not to me. But I have recorded your words. Others may make sense of them.
ADAMA: As to my willing myself into an abnormal state, you must realize that mental commitment and physical commitment must be associated. The alternative is a kind of hypocrisy, but I do not condemn hypocrisy. To know one's true mind is surely one of the hardest tasks that face a human being. It is matched only by the difficulty of acting on one's understanding once one does know one's true mind. Be that as it may. I drove my body to drive my mind. I sought out the aromatic herbs that bring dreams. I starved myself and then ate berries. I refused myself sleep until I was delirious and then I crawled into the Pectanlie up there and let it control my dreams. I ran after any shadow of strangeness.
I drove myself until my mind began edging into a new awareness and then I let that awareness lap about my question. The Galactica?: Yes or No.
Men of old, you know, danced themselves into a trance. Women too. They breathed in smoke, whipped themselves with nettles. I was mild by comparison.
VULPA: Tell me about the day on which you made your decision.
ADAMA: I was by the river, wasn't I?"
VULPA: You were.
ADAMA: It is hard to remember details. The river had become a living presence to me. It was a woman. It flowed around me. The land was a man. I stepped from the land. I was at the meeting of two great forces, or was it the estrangement of forces? Words lose meaning at such a point.....opposites join. (pause) Were you there, Vulpa?
VULPA: Yes.
ADAMA: I remember that I felt I had superhuman strength. If you had asked me to lift the hills I would have tried. I could feel no limit to my strength. I strode into the water----ah, it was like Ila, and I made love to the water. I hoped to engender something. Silver snakes. Bright winged birds. Ah, I felt clean....(pause)
VULPA: Continue.
ADAMA" If only I had not wanted things so much. If only I had been content to make love to the stream. If I had been content with Ila.
VULPA: If. If.....
ADAMA: True. But the story continues. While I stood there recovering from my exertion I heard a sound like thunder in the hills. But it was not thunder, it was a roaring. It came from the trees. I was shocked but delighted. The trees shook. There was something moving there. I heard a snuffling, too, like giant bellows being pressed. Then, stepping down to the waterside, slipping on the moist soil, came a monster. It had giant plates up its spine. The tail was so heavy it could only be dragged. I could smell the creature's breath when it opened its mouth. Id
VULPA: Ila had already left you.
ADAMA: Ah yes. But she would have come back. Though she went off with that trader she did not sign a commitment to him until the day I left aboard the Galactica. Did you not know that? No. Well, that is human nature for you. That is love. Simple people , are we not?256Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb3vvB6Wit6
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I had no dreams. It is not in my nature to dream. But the humans had dreams. They each passed through a moment of unreality which is also a moment of potentiality, the hole in the zero as they say. They all reacted in their different and characteristic ways. Cain, for example, briefly saw himself as a woman giving birth. The bursar reported that for a few moments he became a crawlon at the middle of a dew-spangled web. The cook was a stone at the bottom of a stygian lake. All the realities told something of the nature of the dreamers. Hawk did me the service of restoring my main circuits and I did the rest for myself.
"Is it always like that, passing through the dimensional shift?" asked Cain.
"Always the same and always different. You get to look forward to it after a while, like dreaming," she replied. "Now, look outside.
Outside were trees with big feathery branches which were pressed up against the walls of the transport platform. We were well inside the force field and in the Tharge's territory.
The door hissed open and Hawk stepped outside. "What about your mask?" asked the bursar.
"I've adjusted, she answered. "This Tharge is in my special care. I call it Aurus, after my first husband. Come out and meet him. Keep your masks on, he smells pretty awful."
Outside we pushed through the tree ferns. The ground was soft and mushy. We came to a wooden ladder which led up to an observation platform. We climbed.
We looked into solid jungle. We could have been on any of a thousand planets. Hawk put her fingers to her lips and whistled a low wailing whistle. Immediately the whistle was repeated as though by many flutes and we detected movement in the jungle. A sinuous yellow and orange shape moved in the branches above us. It might have been a snake or a tentacle. We could not tell. Then another moved and a tree shook and it seemed that every tree and bush had its own inhabitant.
"I thought there was only one...." began Cain, but then fell silent for the entire beast revealed itself. It reared up from the jungle floor. It was like a giant sunflower and the yellow and orange shapes we had seen in the trees turned out to be tentacles. The yellow body pulsed like a huge muscular heart. It beat and throbbed and the surface was never still. Dotted along the upper parts of the tentacles we could see ducts that opened and closed like fishes' mouths and through which were squeezed trickles of oil. The Tharge rubbed this oil over its body using other small tentacles. It caressed and preened itself sensuously. But most remarkable were the eyes. They rose like thousands of black poppies from the middle of the Tharge's yellow body and they moved individually and collectively, like flowers in the wind. They surveyed us. Then the Tharge changed color. Almost all the yellow deepened to orange.
Several of the ducts blew out violently spitting oil toward us and then they compressed and whistled, sounding a harsh melody.
"He wants to know who you are. He's scared of you."
"Can you explain to him?"
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