Ruins (Pathfinder Trilogy) (26 page)

“Can you show us sculptures from the Greeks of Earth?” asked Mouse-Breeder.

Rigg wasn’t sure which mice made the change, but suddenly the sculptures in the four corners of the room changed to brightly painted, lifelike, life-sized stone sculptures. Yet when Rigg put his hand out to touch one, his fingers passed within the “stone.”

“Illusion,” said Olivenko.

“Trickery,” said Param.

Loaf only chuckled.

“You knew,” said Rigg.

“The mask was not deceived,” said Loaf, “and so I saw the difference between the dancing light of the illusion and the solidity of the walls.”

“But you still see the beauty of the art?” asked Swims-in-the-Air.

“As much as I ever could have without the mask,” said Loaf. “It adds nothing to my appreciation of artificial beauty.”

“So art does not speak to you?” asked Mouse-Breeder.

“Your art with the mice speaks to me very clearly,” said Loaf. “The mice only understand your language, am I right?”

“They’ll learn yours quickly enough,” said Mouse-Breeder.

“But when the Visitors come, they won’t be able to get access to any of the books that are invisibly stored in this place.”

Mouse-Breeder nodded, his smile even slighter, if that were possible. “Only with the help of the mice can anyone find any book or diagram or map or work of art in all of Odinfold.”

“So if someone killed the mice?” asked Umbo. “You’d lose your whole library?”

“You must have another way,” said Olivenko. “Another key to the library.”

“Something mechanical,” said Loaf.

“No,” said Swims-in-the-Air. “Back doors can be found. Machines can be discovered. No, it’s mice and mice alone.”

“But we’re mindful of the chance of loss,” said Mouse-Breeder.

“He’s too modest to tell you himself,” said Swims-in-the-Air. “These mice are actually a genetic hodgepodge of astonishing variety. More than three thousand species, and no two in this room are genetically close. A disease that wiped out all the mice of any one species, or even all the closely related species, would still leave most of the mice untouched.”

“If you have three thousand species,” said Olivenko, “how many individuals are there of each?”

“We can’t count them all,” said Mouse-Breeder. “They reproduce like mice, you see, and then they teach their children how to manipulate the electronics, so nothing is lost. The great prairies of Odinfold have thousands of different kinds of grass, and the mice thrive on all the seeds. There are hundreds of billions of mice.”

“So where three billion humans once lived . . .” began Olivenko.

“A hundred times as many mice. And also the owls and foxes, ferrets and cats that feed on them, and the hawks and eagles and wolves that feed on
them
,” said Mouse-Breeder. “And grazing animals to keep any one grass from crowding out all others, and the great cats that feed on the grazing animals, and the hyenas and other scavengers that gather at their kills. Our great wallfold is a garden of life, dotted with the ruins of our ancient civilization, and only tree-dwelling yahoos to show that humans once lived here.”

“An elegant disguise,” said Rigg.

“Which failed,” said Mouse-Breeder. “And so we bring you to our library, in hopes that you can find a better way.”

“I take it the mice will bring us books,” said Olivenko.

“Just say what you want to study—the topic, the source, a specific title, an author, or even a question. Sit at the table, or lean against a wall, or ask while you’re walking, and the mice will cause the book you want to appear before you.”

“Mouse-Breeder is our best librarian,” said Swims-in-the-Air.

“She means the best one living,” said Mouse-Breeder, “because our ancestors designed and built and collected so well and thoroughly that there was hardly anything left to do when I came along.”

“So using intelligent mice for access is just a bit of decoration?” asked Olivenko wryly.

“I want to see a book,” said Rigg.

Instantly there was a book lying on the table. And then another, and another, two or three appearing, another disappearing,
as if the books were works of sculpture being displayed in rapid succession.

“This one,” Olivenko said, putting his finger into one. At once it rose into the air, exactly the right distance from his eyes for comfortable reading. It opened. “
Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World
,” said Rigg. “By Jonathan Swift.”

“Commonly known as
Gulliver’s Travels
,” said Mouse-Breeder. “Part four, chapter one, in which Gulliver meets the Yahoos.”

“You can’t expect us to believe that he happened to choose that title by chance,” said Loaf.

Mouse-Breeder looked pained. “Of course not. No matter what book he chose, it was going to contain
Gulliver’s Travels
.”

“Is that what we’re required to read first?” asked Param.

“You’re not
required
to do anything at all,” said Swims-in-the-Air. “The only way this will work is if you freely choose for yourselves, follow up on whatever interests you. Of course, we expect your most important results will come from studying the culture of the society that launched the colony ships—to us, eleven thousand years ago, but to the Visitors, only half a generation.”

“But I can study the history of Ramfold if I want?” asked Param.

“If you wish,” said Mouse-Breeder.

“And I can study the wallfold where Knosso was killed?” asked Olivenko.

“Unfortunately, they have no writing,” said Mouse-Breeder ruefully. “We can’t collect oral histories from other wallfolds, because our machines can’t pick up sounds. Only things that persist in time.”

“What if I want to roam through Odinfold,” asked Loaf. “To see this place for myself?”

“Go where you want,” said Swims-in-the-Air. “But you should be careful. The predators have no fear of humans, which means they have no respect for us, either. We look like meat to the larger ones, and we carry no weapons.”

“I do,” said Loaf.

“And how effective will they be against a pack of wolves? A pride of lions? A troop of hyenas?” Mouse-Breeder shook his head. “Of course, if you’re killed, your friends can go back in time to rescue you, but it seems a waste of time.”

“I’m not going hunting,” said Loaf. “I want to see the prairie you describe.”

“It’s interesting for about a day,” said Mouse-Breeder. “But be our guest. There are no restrictions. Whatever you think you need to know before you meet the Visitors. Or whatever you simply want to know to satisfy your own curiosity. All our plans have come to nothing. We have no plans for you, beyond providing you with access to all the information we have.”

“Then I want to learn how the starships work,” said Umbo. “And all about the machines that govern them.”

“It’s a lifetime’s study,” said Swims-in-the-Air.

“And your lifetimes are shorter than ours,” said Mouse-Breeder.

“I don’t have to learn how to build one,” said Umbo. “But I assume that the design of whatever the Visitors use to come here will be based on the same principles. They rely on machines, as you do. More than you do. Right?”

Rigg was surprised that Umbo had thought of such a project, and seemed determined to pursue it. Umbo had no particular education in science and technology. He would be duplicating the kind of education that Father had given Rigg as they wandered the forests. Rigg well knew what effort it had taken him with the best teacher in the world.

And then Rigg realized that he was assuming Umbo was less capable of learning than Rigg himself was. But that wasn’t so. Umbo was half Odinfolder, while Rigg and Param were only one-quarter. If they really had bred for superior intelligence, Umbo might be even smarter than the two royal children were.

How quickly I bought into the class biases of the Sessamids, thought Rigg. Thinking I was Father’s son, I assumed I was as smart as he was—he knew everything, I thought. Turns out he was a machine, and I was the son of the Queen- and King-in-the-Tent. So I turned all my sense of superiority toward the royal family, and once again, I was wrong.

Wrong and wrong again, and again, and probably now as well. Let Umbo study what he wants. He’ll learn as quickly as I will, or more quickly.

Soon they all had books, except Loaf, who pleasantly insisted on going out into the world. He asked for a flyer, and they produced one—a duplicate of the one they had ridden in when Vadesh brought them to the Wall. Within three days he was back, saying little about what he saw, and then settled into the same life they were leading: Hours on end sitting or standing or walking about in the library, reading whatever the mice made appear at their request, then discarding what they were done with, which
promptly vanished, yet reappeared again upon request, open to the very page they had been on when they closed it.

But it wasn’t all reading. There were meals, and at the meals they talked, and sometimes in between. Umbo and Olivenko were the sort of student who has to talk about or show whatever excites them. Rigg understood the principle, but Father had curbed it in him, if only because whatever Rigg had learned, he had learned from Father—from Ramex—and in the deep forest there was no one to tell but him, and what was the point of that?

Rigg was annoyed sometimes at the interruptions from Umbo and Olivenko, but then he changed his mind when he realized that it was good for him to know the extent of what they learned, as well as their questions and conclusions about it. It’s not that Rigg actually knew everything they knew, but he knew what they had
said
about what they knew, and didn’t forget it, so that he would be able to ask them questions and have some idea of whether they’d know the answer.

Param, on the other hand, talked about nothing she was learning, and showed her annoyance if anyone asked. For a few hours once he asked the mice to show him what Param had been reading, and he skimmed through the books, finding that she was, indeed, reading histories of the Sessamids. But very quickly he found that she was beyond—before—the royal family, backtracking through the entire history of Ramfold. It was a world she had never really seen, he realized, and by studying the whole history and geography of it, she was, in a way, seeing what she had been kept from seeing her entire life.

Olivenko immersed himself in the culture of Earth, but not
the modern history that would be familiar to the Visitors who would come to Garden only a year or so from now. Instead, he was discovering all he could about the evolution of the human race and then about the earliest histories, the movement of ancient tribes, the formation of nations. “I have to know why humans are the way they are,” said Olivenko.

Rigg took note of how Olivenko spoke of humans as “they,” though he wasn’t quite sure what it meant. The Odinfolders looked rather simian, with their shorter legs and semi-grasping feet. It was easy to see that they would not register as fully human. But as far as the Visitors would be able to see, Rigg and his company were fully human. Except for Loaf, and that was only because of the parasite he bore on his face. And Olivenko had no share in the inborn time-centered powers that were the unique achievement of Ramfold. In what sense should
he
think of humans as other than himself, or of himself as other than human?

To Rigg, there was no doubt that he was human, and the others as well—including the yahoo-bodied Odinfolders. It took a little getting used to, the way their strides were shorter, their running slower, but their reach longer, their strength much greater than any of the Ramfolders but Loaf. Still, they spoke human languages, thought human thoughts, ate human food, and had the same tribal and personal instincts as any human. Self-preservation, yet the willingness to sacrifice for the good of the community; personal pride and ambition, and yet a willingness to be modest in order to retain their acceptance by others. Rigg could see no particular difference in the way they thought and acted, the social rules that governed them.

The only real difference was that the Odinfolders were so self-controlled. They might feel the same imperatives as the people Rigg had known in Ramfold, but they knew what was happening to them as they felt these things, and chose rationally whether to act on those feelings or not. He could see in their faces as the decisions were made, the momentary hesitation, and instinctive move that they held in check. But it seemed to cause no stress. Reining in their passions was as natural to them as eating and drinking and talking. So perhaps they had evolved to a higher level, another stage. Once they started getting the Future Books, they had transformed themselves again and again, remaking their history from that moment forward, over and over, and learning from each failure, only to fail again. Perhaps that process had bred in them a calm acceptance of defeat, or a readiness to take the long view of things.

There came a time when Rigg realized he had to read the Future Books in order to try to make guesses about what might have struck the Visitors as so terrifying or disgusting about the people of Garden that they came back to destroy the world. No matter how much Rigg read from the histories, biographies, and literature of Earth, it made no sense to him. The stories all seemed to champion tolerance, acceptance of the strange, the need to change in order to adapt, survive, grow.

Indeed, the whole colonizing project was born of a fear that Earth was too crowded, too polluted, too endangered after years of botched development. An outlet was needed precisely so that humans had a chance of becoming something different. And so Ram Odin had been sent out in command of a starship that
would use the new technology of jumping through space to reach another habitable planet as quickly as possible; but if the jump hadn’t worked, the ship could have continued at a much slower speed, with passengers and pilot in stasis until they reached the planet that Ram named Garden. The idea was to succeed in establishing the human race on another world. And in this the colony project had succeeded astonishingly well.

It was hardly the fault of the people of Garden that there had been a time anomaly in the first jump, and they had been thrust back in time by eleven thousand, one hundred ninety-one years. Nor was it their fault that another anomaly caused the ship to make the passage nineteen times, so that nineteen complete copies of the colony ship, including all the people on it, reached Garden at the same time. What could possibly have caused the Visitors to ignore their own ethos, the innocence of the people of Garden, and a human history longer than that of recorded human history on Earth?