Homesmind

ONE

Anra had been on the hill all afternoon. Under the grove of trees on top of the slope, a mound of bricks was all that remained of an old, abandoned hut; a dead tree lay across the rubble.

As a child, Anra had often played here with her friend Fiella; in their hands, the bricks had become a tiny, imagined village inhabited by the straw-filled cloth dolls the two girls brought with them. The dolls had danced as the girls moved them with their minds, and then had sat among the bricks as Fiella and Anra told them of the wonders that the visiting skydwellers could show them. At other times, Anra had come to the hill alone to read some of the skydwellers' writings, keeping her thoughts still until the tendrils of her aunt's mind reached out and found her again.

Now the hill was a refuge. In the village below, just beyond the meadow, Anra's great-grandfather, Cerwen, was dying. She blinked, wiping at her eyes with one sleeve. Cerwen's will was no longer strong enough to overcome his physical weakness.

The old man had grown up in a world that had not changed for thousands of cycles. He had believed that the mindpowers he shared with all Earthfolk, the ability to read the thoughts of others and to move objects with his mind, had been given to people by God long ago. He had known that the purpose of life was to draw closer to others until all thoughts were merged. He had also known that such mental powers had to be controlled, for in ancient times Earth had nearly destroyed itself with the violence humanity's mindpowers had unleashed. Cerwen, like everyone on Earth, had feared change, afraid that change would bring evil days to his world once more.

Then the skydwellers had come to Earth, and the village had learned that the strangers were the descendants of those who had fled from Earth thousands of years before. Cerwen had lived through that first encounter and the battles that had followed it when Earthfolk had learned the truth about their past. God, the Merged One Who united all thoughts, had not given people mindpowers; the machines that ancient Earthfolk built had released those powers. Cerwen had come to doubt everything he had once believed before finding a new purpose.

Now the old man faced death; that, for him, had not changed. It didn't have to be, Anra thought, clutching the flowers she had gathered more tightly. Cerwen did not have to die.

I mourn with you, child
.

She glanced up at the sky. Homesmind, the Mind of the skydwellers, was speaking to her. She widened the channel through which she had heard Its words.

—Your people could save Cerwen— Anra's mind whispered.

I am aware of that. But Cerwen must choose life. They cannot act against his will.

Anra sighed. Homesmind had begun Its life as an artificial intelligence built by Its people to serve them; It had rapidly surpassed them, and now held all of their history and knowledge inside Itself. It had seen generations of skydwellers live and die during the time Its world had wandered through space. Cerwen's death would seem insignificant to Homesmind.

You are mistaken, Anra. I, too, can feel sorrow.

The landscape vanished. She was drifting through space with Homesmind as It followed Earth around the sun. The world that housed Homesmind had once been lifeless, one of the Halo of comets beyond the edge of the solar system. Those who had fled from Earth had seeded it and other comets; giant trees had sprouted from the icy worlds, taking root. Anra could sense the wide leaves opening to the sun as oxygen was carried to the gardens inside the roots where the skydwellers lived. They called their world the Wanderer, the Forest, and the Refuge, and it was all of those things.

Homesmind had wandered far through interstellar space. In time, It had lost contact with other comet Minds; Its loneliness and curiosity had brought It and Its people back to Earth. Anra sensed a wisp of sorrow in Homes-mind's clear, vast mind as It pondered all the people It had served. It was thinking not only of the dead, but also of the hopes It had for both Earth and the sky-dwellers, hopes that now might be threatened.

The vision of black, starry space disappeared; Homesmind was shielding Its thoughts.

—I see that You do feel sorrow— Anra said.

I am concerned for you. I had hoped that your village would become a bridge between all of your people and Mine.

—That will come to pass— she thought, wanting to believe it.

Do not fear. I shall stay with you, and watch over the Minds of Earth.

Anra closed her channel, wondering why Homesmind had mentioned the Minds; she had sensed Its apprehension. She gazed toward the mountains on the eastern horizon. Earth's Minds, and the structures that housed Them, were hidden under the rocky peaks; in other regions of Earth, other Minds lay under oceans or concealed in caves. Tormented Earthfolk had buried the Minds long ago.

Those ancient people had dreamed of uniting Earth. The Minds they created would release the mental powers latent in every human mind, and no thoughts would be hidden; Earth would be united. Anra had viewed the Minds' images of that distant past, a time when Earthfolk had lived in the towers of vast cities and had dreamed of freeing their minds from the mental walls surrounding them. Those Earthfolk had not realized that the urge to destroy would be released as well.

Many had died in the cities; the survivors had fled to other parts of Earth, huddling together in small groups as they sought to rebuild their shattered lives. Slowly, they learned how to control their thoughts, and gave up their desire for power and knowledge; power would release violence, and seeking more knowledge had nearly destroyed them. They lived simply, as their ancestors had done, and drew on only a small part of the mental energy that the Minds could provide. Gradually, they forgot the Minds and lived in a peaceful, unchanging world.

The Minds had slept for thousands of cycles until the coming of the sky dwellers had awakened Them. Could the Minds, Anra wondered, be falling asleep again?

—Anra—

She sat up as she recognized the thoughts of her aunt Daiva.

—I think he will leave us soon— Daiya murmured. The words settled inside Anra as the shadows of evening seemed to darken. —Come to him now—

Dropping the flowers, Anra stood up and was about to hurry down the hill, then stopped to pick up a few of the brightest blossoms.

—I am ready, child— These thoughts were not sorrowful, as Daiya's had been. —Do not mourn me— Cerwen's voice was already weaker.

—I'll be with you soon— Anra replied as she descended the hill. She put up a mental wall, then closed the channel that allowed her to receive the thoughts of others, suddenly afraid that her anger would otherwise escape her. Cerwen did not have to die. A hand seemed to grip her throat. He did not have to die, and yet the village would let him go.

She opened herself to the Minds. A stream of energy flowed into her as she lifted herself from the ground and soared toward the thatched roofs of the village's huts. Only a few small children played on the riverbank at the village's western edge; even the public space surrounded by circular rows of huts was empty.

At the edge of the village fields, a few skydwellers sat near their shuttles. I he skydwellers could prevent Cerwen's death, yet they did nothing; they huddled near their beetlelike craft as if hoping to hide from the knowledge of mortality. One bald skydweller stood up and waved to her as she flew toward the village; she recognized Jerod. He was kinder than many of his people, his thoughts warmer, but she refused to wave back, then felt a twinge of guilt. Another skydweller had helped to raise her, becoming the only father she knew, and a second was tied to her by familial bonds. If the skydwellers had not come to Earth, she would not even be alive.

Anra dipped toward the meadow, alighted on the grassy ground, and walked toward the huts ahead. A few villagers were strolling through the fields toward their homes. They still labored to grow food, as Earthpeople always had, even though the devices of the skydwellers could have provided for their needs. A hungry skydweller had only to press a synthesizer panel and food would appear. But Anra knew that there were dangers in becoming too dependent on such tools, and there were villagers who were amused at the skydwellers' inability to fend for themselves. Others also felt that work was necessary, since a strong body strengthened the mind within it.

A boy emerged from a hut and waved to her; his dark-brown face was set in a frown. She opened her mind again. —Paeter— she thought.

—Anra— She sensed his sympathy. —Shall I come with you?—

She was about to shake her head, but nodded instead. Paeter hesitated, then joined her. A dog sitting near a vegetable garden barked at them as they passed; a few people touched her gently with their thoughts as she walked by their huts.

—Console yourself, Anra—

—Cerwen is content—

—God has touched him, child—

— The old man will have peace at last—

—I know how you feel— Paeter thought as he walked at her side. —But Cerwen accepts it. You should, too. He wouldn't want you to be unhappy— In spite of his thoughts, she could sense his grief.

She closed her mind, not wanting to disturb her friend. Most of the village's children, like Paeter, had been sent there while still infants from other regions of Earth. They were solitaries, separate selves born without the ability to mindspeak or to practice mindcrafts. Before the sky-dwellers had come to Earth, such infants had been put to death, but now their parents could, if they wished, send them here. Anra was also a solitary; her parents had given her up and left the village, but some of her relatives had remained. Her hand touched her forehead refiexively as she thought of her implant. All skydwellers were linked to Homesmind by the tiny implants embedded in their skulls; the devices had also made it possible for those born as separate selves to draw on the power of the Minds.

Anra and those like her could have lived as other Earth-folk did, but she knew that many in other villages still feared those born as solitaries. Earthfolk had long believed that separate selves had no souls. Some regarded the solitaries as beings who might mimic human actions but were less than human themselves; others saw them as cripples needing implants as crutches.

Through the Minds under the mountains and Those in other regions of Earth, other villages could contact Anra's community, but they rarely did; even the parents of the children brought here seemed to care little about what had become of them. Anra was aware that she, with a few family members still in the village, was luckier than most.

A small robot carrying tools in its cart rolled past the two young people along the dirt path; it was another gift of the skydwellers. In the purple evening sky, the tail of the comet where the skydwellers lived was now visible; near it, a second comet was a bright, white streak. Homesmind had captured that comet as it passed Earth, and had seeded it with the plants that would make it a living world. Homesmind and a few of its people might stay near Earth, but many of the cometfolk were planning to move to the new world; they would then leave the nearer heavens for other stars.

Anra could sympathize a little with the skydwellers. To them, Earth was the world their ancestors had abandoned. It was also more dangerous and primitive than their own tame world. The presence of the skydwellers in her village was one reason the rest of Earth avoided it. Many Earthfolk felt that there was danger in the presence of skydwellers, who made Earth's ways seem without purpose. Why work when skydweller tools could provide all that was needed, and more? Why follow old customs when it seemed that contact with the skydwellers would inevitably bring change?

"You're hiding your thoughts," Paeter said aloud. "You needn't hide them from me, and Cerwen won't want you to hide them from him."

Anra nodded. "I was thinking of the skydwellers." She frowned.

"You should understand them more than most. Your aunt—" The boy paused.

"Yes, I know."

They stopped in front of a large hut. Cerwen had lived there for as long as she could remember, along with other old people he still called Merging Selves. Once, the older people of the village had drawn closer together, sharing their thoughts until there was almost no distinction between one mind and another, becoming Merging Selves. The Merging Selves had been the heart of a village, showing others the unity to which all Earth had aspired. Merging Selves still lived in other parts of the world, but here the old people rarely achieved that coming together. Years of contact with skydwellers had made the old ones more individual and less likely to merge their thoughts.

Anra opened her mental channel a bit, sensing the minds inside. Paeter led her into the hut.

She greeted the villagers who had gathered around the mat where Cerwen lay. Her friend Fiella smiled briefly at Paeter; her smile faded as she turned her head toward Anra. —I'm sorry— the red-haired girl whispered. The old man lifted one hand as Paeter nodded at him.

Nenla BariWil reached for Fiella's hand. —Come, daughter— Nenla led the girl from the hut, followed by Fiella's father, Kal DeeneVasen. Fiella had been born a separate self, but her parents, who had always lived in the village, had remained there to raise her. Anra thought of her own parents, who had left her behind. Her village had been larger once, but many of the villagers had left it fifteen years earlier, believing that they should try to bring other villages to an understanding of new ways. Instead, it seemed that the distant villages had swallowed them.

Paeter touched her arm, murmured a farewell to the old man on the mat, then followed Fiella outside. Daiya was next to Cerwen; Anra sat down near her aunt. Someone had placed two globes of light near the mat, and the soft glow had softened Daiya's features. Her brown, middle-aged face seemed almost youthful, the lines of age invisible.

Daiya's companion, Reiho, sat behind her. He had not aged, but then, he was a skydweller; his face would always be young. He had lived in the village during the fifteen years of Anra's life; his mind lacked the harder edges and colder thoughts common among his people, but he could not conceal what he really was. His strong, ageless body was the product of the cometdwellers' biological sciences. He, like Daiya, had lived for more than forty-five years, yet he would still be young when Daiya was as old as Cerwen. Anra had touched Reiho's mind and had gazed through his eyes; he still often saw Daiya as the young girl she had once been. The traces of gray in Daiya's black hair, her roughened skin, and the small jowls near her mouth were invisible to him.