Agent to the Stars (15 page)

Read Agent to the Stars Online

Authors: John Scalzi

BOOK: Agent to the Stars
2.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“I'm not tired,” I said. “I'd love a tour of the ship, though. May I have a tour after the meeting?”
“Of course,” Gwedif said.
“Well, then,” I said. “Let's go have a meeting.”
 
Gwedif
and I entered the
Ionar
through the same door that the other Yherajk disappeared into. I had to duck to get through the door and then had to hunch down as we walked down several corridors; the ceiling was about an inch shorter than I was tall. I suppose that this would make sense: the Yherajk are not exactly tall. These corridors must have seemed roomy to them.
Gwedif sensed my discomfort. “Sorry about this,” he said. “I should have gotten us a transport so that you could sit. But I thought you might want to experience a little of the ship on the way to the communion room.”
“It's all right,” I said, looking around. The corridors appeared carved out of the rock of the asteroid, and didn't have ornamentation of any sort, like the hangar we had just been in. I mentioned this to Gwedif.
“You're right,” he said. “The Yherajk have never been much for visuals. While we see quite well by your standards, it's not our primary sense to the world, like it is to you. But the walls here have scent guides, which function in the same manner. And this isn't to say we have no artistic impulses. Later on, when we tour the ship, I'll take you to our art gallery. We have some
tivis
there which are really quite nice.”
“What are
tivis?
” I asked.
Gwedif stopped for a second, suddenly enough that I braked myself, reflexively straightening up and bumping my head in
the process. “I'm trying to think if there's a human analogue, and I'm not coming up with one,” Gwedif said. “I guess the closest words in English to what they are would be ‘Smell Paintings, ' but that's not quite right, either. Oh, well,” he started off again, “you'll get it when you see them—or more accurately, smell them.” I hurried off after him.
A few more corridors, and then we stopped outside a door. “Here we are,” Gwedif said. “Now, Carl, nearly every Yherajk who is on the ship is in here now. I want to know if you're prepared.”
“I think I can wrap my mind around it,” I said.
“I'm not talking about
that,
” Gwedif said. “I just wanted to make sure your nose plugs are secure. It's pretty stinky in there.”
“I feel like my nose is filled with cement,” I said.
“Okay. Let's go in, then.” He extended a tendril to the door. At his touch, it opened inward.
Two things struck me immediately as we stepped through. The first was that the Yherajk tradition of visual monotony continued unabated—the room consisted of an unadorned dome over a large circular floor that sloped downward to where a small central dais jutted up modestly, itself unadorned. On the floor, large clumps of Yherajk assembled here and there, pretty much like humans do before a meeting gets down to business.
The second thing was that even through my nose plugs, the smell of the room slammed into me like a rocket in the chest. It was as if someone had fermented an entire horse stable. It was unbelievably strong. I leaned back against the wall.
“You all right?” Gwedif asked.
“I think I'm getting a buzz from the smell,” I said. “And not in a good way.”
“It's because everyone's talking at the moment. It'll get better when we start the meeting and everyone shuts up,” he said. “For now, just take deep breaths.”
In the middle distance, a Yherajk broke from the clump and approached us. It briefly touched Gwedif—I was beginning to think this was their way of greeting or saluting each other—and then extended a tendril at me. I looked at Gwedif.
“Carl, this is Uake,” Gwedif said. “Uake is the
Ionar'
s
ientcio
—our leader in both ship's operations and social interactions. A captain and a priest. He welcomes you and hopes that you have had an interesting visit so far. He'd like to shake your hand.”
I extended my hand, let Uake's tentacle envelop it, and shook. “Thank you, ientcio. It has been a very interesting visit, and I thank you for allowing me the honor to make the visit to begin with.” I directed my comments directly to Uake, assuming Gwedif would translate, without prompting.
He did. “I've passed the message on and added my own comment that we should start the meeting soon, before you pass out from the fumes. To you, Uake says that the honor is ours, that you would visit. To me, he says that if we will accompany him to the dais, we will begin the meeting and get the rabble under control. Shall we?”
Uake, Gwedif and I walked through the crowd to the dais. As we arrived, three Yherajk also arrived, carrying a block of something, and set it on the dais.
“I thought you might like to have something to sit on,” Gwedif said. “We don't have any chairs, but this should work just as well.” I thanked him and took my seat. Uake took up a position on the far side of the dais from me, and Gwedif sat between us.
Some signal scent must have gone up, because the Yherajk on the floor broke up their clumps and encircled the dais, forming concentric rings. The room became noticeably less smelly; everyone must have shut up.
“The ientcio is about to begin his speech,” Gwedif said. “He has asked me once again to translate for him so that you will understand what is being said. The translation will not be exact, I'm afraid—Uake will be using a lot of High Speech, which we use to quickly pass along large amounts of information. But I'll be able to give you the gist of it. If you have any questions, let me know—our talking isn't going to disturb the speech.” He fell silent for a few minutes and then started speaking again, starting and stopping as Uake made his statements.
“The ientcio welcomes all to the meeting, with the hope that this moment of our journey finds them all well and at peace with themselves. He asks us all to look back on that moment, over seventy years ago now—your years—when the first faint signals of intelligence from this world were picked up by our scientific arrays, and the confusion, turmoil, joy and fear that those signals, first sound, then picture, brought to our race.
“He asks us also to remember the day when this ship began its journey to this place, our people's emissary to a people so strange and unlike ourselves. The ship was to serve two purposes: to learn about those people, to find if they could be communicated with; and if they could, then to make contact, with the hope of joining our two peoples in friendship and comity.
“The ientcio now recounts the difficulties of the journey—its length, both in distance and time, a number of accidents that diminished the number of the crew and caused damage to the ship, and the mutiny attempt that resulted in the soul death of
Echwar, our first ientcio, and the loss of a tenth of the crew. This recounting is made to remind us even in this moment of happiness that we must not lose sight of all that this journey has required of us.
“Now, the ientcio says, our journey comes to the cusp, in which we learn if our efforts form a memory epic for all Yherajk, to be told in the days when our race is old and the stars red with age, or if they disappear into darkness. We have made contact with one of the humans, one who we believe will be wise, and whose actions will determine our path. It is difficult to assign our fates to the will of one who is not one of us, but that is the way of such encounters as these—though we prepare for the moment, the moment itself is not a thing we can control.”
Tom, I was dumbfounded by what I was hearing. These creatures had traveled across the stars, over unimaginable distances. And if what I was hearing was correct, the success or failure of their trip was being placed into
my
hands. It was a burden that I didn't want or even frankly that I understood. I asked Gwedif if I was comprehending correctly what was being said.
“Oh, yes,” Gwedif said. “Your actions in this meeting will determine what happens to us and to our journey. It's something that we've known for a long time, and something that is characteristic of the Yherajk—the surrender of control in the hope that the moment germinates into something greater. This is that moment.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, becoming angry. “I didn't come up here to play God for you. You're asking me to do something I don't know that I can do. I don't even
know
what it is that you want me to do, much less if I can do it. I feel like I've been tricked.”
Gwedif sprouted a tentacle and placed it on my hand.
“Carl,” he said, “you're not being asked to play God. Your part is about to be explained. If you refuse it, then we go back home, and our people plan a new way to try to contact your people. That's all. We're not going to launch our ship into the sun if we fail—the drama you hear is part of the formal nature of High Speech. You've been around me enough to know we don't usually talk like that. But we
do
need your perspective on this. You know your people like we could never know them. We need to see through you whether we can make contact with humans here and now. Do you understand a little better now?”
I nodded.
“All right,” Gwedif said. “The ientcio is speaking to you now. He formally welcomes you to the
Ionar,
wishes you happiness at this moment in your journey, and presents to you the host of the ship, the crew of the
Ionar
, and hopes that you will acknowledge them thusly.”
“How do I do that?” I asked.
“Got me,” Gwedif said. “No human's ever done it before. Try waving, and I'll wing the speechifying.”
I stood and waved. Two thousand Yherajk sprouted tentacles and waved back.
“I have said that you acknowledge the host of the ship and wish them happiness at this moment of the journey,” Gwedif said. “It's more or less the correct response and doesn't commit you to anything further. Was that all right?”
“Yes,” I said, sitting back down.
“Good,” Gwedif said. “Uake is now speaking to you about the journey, and what we have learned of your people through your radio and television transmissions. What he's saying is completely untranslatable due to the complexity of the High
Speech structures he is using, but the upshot of it is that while your transmissions point to a rich and fascinating culture, we also have found them contradictory and confusing at the same time. There is no structure to your planet's transmissions into space.”
“Well, it's
television
, you know,” I said. “It's meant to be understood by humans and not intended for anyone else. You're just getting the leakage. I do believe that we have a scientific program that is beaming messages for alien cultures into outer space, but that's the only thing that's intended for nonhuman audiences.”
“The ientcio wishes to inform you that we have indeed received those messages from SETI and have found them … amusing is probably the best word. Television is much more interesting.”
It was a good thing Carl Sagan wasn't alive to hear those words. Gwedif continued. “The ientcio says that we have found that we have been able to learn something of you from television and radio. Some of us, and I am obviously being referred to here, have learned English, and have begun to piece together something of a world and cultural history of your planet.
“But we have become aware that we have been quite unable to make a clear distinction between what is factual and what is fictional—what represents your true culture and what constitutes your imaginings. We understand the distinction, for example, between your news reports and your entertainment programs. But we lack the context to tell which is the exaggeration of the other. This is a source of frustration for us—to the Yherajk, you can at times seem to be a culture of pathological liars, unable yourselves to tell the difference between truth and falsity. You can see how that can make us nervous to
initiate contact. We need someone to help us create a context, so we can separate the truth from the lies and make an accurate reckoning of the status of your planet.
“This is of specific interest to us as it relates to your planet's tendencies towards the idea of alien contact. The SETI program implies that your planet is actively seeking contact with other peoples, but your entertainments show you to be hostile to the idea, full of the fear that the peoples you encounter will try to subjugate your planet. Moreover, when you do show aliens as friendly or benevolent, they tend to be humanoid in appearance. When they are hostile or violent, they tend to appear like us. Obviously, this is very worrying.”
“I think you are underestimating the influence of special effects budgets on that particular question,” I said.
“The ientcio agrees that this might be the case,” Gwedif said. “Again it comes to a question of context and knowledge of the culture. He hopes that now you may understand our predicament.
“You are one of the most powerful men in the industry that creates the programs that are beamed off of your planet, and have become so because of your character and intelligence. You are in a unique position to help us understand the distinctions between what is real and what is fanciful, between the things that your planet hopes for and the things that your planet fears. It is his hope, and he wishes to stress, the hope of every Yherajk on this ship, that you would be able to help us in our efforts to understand your people, to give us a grounding in the reality of humanity that only a human can.”

Other books

Courtesan's Kiss by Mary Blayney
No True Echo by Gareth P. Jones
Whatever: a novel by Michel Houellebecq
Rapture's Rendezvous by Cassie Edwards
Forbidden by Susan Johnson
The Heart of Valour by Tanya Huff
You're Not You by Michelle Wildgen
Devotion by Cook, Kristie