The Evolutionary Void (69 page)

“Yes,” Corrie-Lyn said, suddenly animated. “They deserve to know. They
have waited so long to know you again. Give them their true hope back. It is
what Edeard would have wanted.”

“Yes.” Inigo rose to his feet. His gaiamotes opened, and the Dreamer
gifted his thoughts once more. All of them.

If Tyzak had been human, he and the Delivery Man would have been best
friends by the time they reached the abandoned city at the end of the valley.
Two days hiking together through the countryside was a superb bonding
opportunity. The well-tended fields and pastures clustered around the village
had given way to wild meadowland after the first three hours. With few animals
grazing, the coiling grass-equivalent grew thick and tall, curling blades
tangling to produce a difficult carpet to traverse. Tough plants as tall as a
human knee were common, their spiky leaves containing a mild toxin that made
Tyzak steer well clear. That made their path less straight than the Delivery
Man wanted. He stuck with it, telling Tyzak about his life, his family.

“It sounds as if your kind are diverging as our ancestors once did,” the
old Anomine said.

“Our story has similarities with yours, certainly. From what we know of
your story, you were a lot less antagonistic. That is admirable. I wish we
would strive for that.”

“There are stories that tell of conflict among our ancestors. Some
believe they have lost their power as they are told with a grudging voice. It
would be strange indeed if our past was completely without strife.”

“That may also be common ground. So many of us like to talk about the
good old days from a thousand years ago. Those I’ve met who actually lived through
such times say the years between always distort reality.”

“Who would wish disdain upon their ancestors? They did deliver us to the
present day.”

As well as the stinging plants, the streams caused an irritating degree
of diversion. Tyzak weighed a great deal more than a human. He had to be
careful of the mud; many an incautious traveler had been trapped in some
treacherous patch of marshland, he explained as they tramped along a gurgling
rivulet, searching for a stony stretch to cross.

In return for his selectively edited life story, the Delivery Man was
finally told the tale of Gazuk on the collapsing bridge, and Razul and Dozul
and Fazku, and a dozen other terrifically boring incidents all too
characteristic of a pastoral society. Finally the story of Fozif was
forthcoming, which was a great deal more lyrical than the others. The Delivery
Man was amused that the first rocket flight to another world remained so
revered, whereas all the Anomine had accomplished afterward as a starfaring
race was delivered in a few short sentences. But it did allow him to respond
appropriately with the story of the Cold War space program and Neil Armstrong,
which kept Tyzak quiet for a good forty minutes.

That first night they made camp on the edge of a small forest of tall trees
with broad weeping branches. The Delivery Man took a hand-size cylindrical
condenser unit from his belt, which whirred quietly as it propelled air along
its short length. Its water sac slowly expanded out from one end like a sallow
tumor as it extracted moisture from the air. When it was full, he pumped the
clean water into flat packets of food concentrate. It didn’t taste too bad,
though he would have preferred something hot. Tyzak just gulped down a couple
more potfuls of the cold gloop he’d carried in a backpack.

As the dark fell, night animals began their calls. The Delivery Man
expanded his tent up and out from a square of plastic. Tyzak thanked him for
the offer of sharing the tough little shelter but refused, saying he preferred
to rest outdoors. The Anomine didn’t sleep as deeply as humans; instead, they
spent the night in a mild doze. They certainly didn’t dream.

Secondary routines woke the Delivery Man a little after midnight local
time. His biononic field scan had detected three largish animals approaching.
Outside, the city at the end of the valley glimmered with a vivid iridescence,
as if the buildings were now made from stained glass wrapped around a fissure
of daylight. It was a stark contrast to the black cliff of the forest beside
him, animated with rustling wind and sharp warbles. He faced the trees and
reconfigured his biononics to produce a complex low-level energy pulse. The
approaching animals chittered frantically when he fired it at them, thrashing
about in the darkness before rushing off, snapping low branches and tearing up
the grass in their hurry to flee. He had no idea what Tyzak felt about killing
local creatures, so the shot would have been the equivalent of giving them a
damn good smack on the nose, with a modest electric shock thrown in to
emphasize the point.

“I thank you,” Tyzak said, rising from the grass where he’d lain. “Three
>no direct translation: night beasts< would have presented even me with a
problem defending us.”

“You see, machines can be useful occasionally.”

“I have my >no direct translation: cudgel ax< to aid me,” the
Anomine said, holding up a length of wood with a couple of spiral carvings
along its length and a wicked curved spike on the top. “It has never failed me
yet.”

The Delivery Man turned back to the radiant city and opened a link to
Gore. “Have you figured it out yet?”

“Partly. The damn thing is stabilizing a zero-width wormhole, but it’s
currently not extended. The
Last Throw
’s sensors are
starting to examine its quantum composition, but that’s not easy in a collapsed
state. I should have an idea where the wormhole used to lead in a few hours or
so.”

“So it’s not the elevation mechanism, then?”

“Not unless it leads directly to Anomine heaven, no.”

“If it is zero-width, then nothing physical travels along it.”

“I know. But it’s early days. I’m probably overlooking something. How are
you doing?”

“Oh, great. I’m in the middle of a boy’s own wilderness adventure. Should
be with you in another day.” With that he bid Tyzak good night and went back to
the wonderfully soft mattress in the tent.

They started off again soon after first light. Thin tendrils of mist
slithered along the floor of the valley, mirroring the river course in the
early light until the sun cleared the hills and burned it off. A constant wind
blew in over the city, which now gleamed in the morning light.

It was a long way, but the Delivery Man was confident they’d make it
before nightfall.

“Do you have a story which tells where the planet will take your kind?”
he asked the old Anomine.

“We still live within the story. From there the ending cannot be seen.”

“Surely you have some notion. It must be a powerful belief which caused
you to stay behind when your ancestors left to become something else.”

“There were many stories of hope told at the parting that will endure
forever. Some believe that we will eventually sink back to the more
simple-minded creatures which we evolved out of and the planet will bring
another mind forward.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of evolution?”

“Only from a single-species perspective. A planet’s life is paramount. It
is such a fragile rare event, it should be treasured and nurtured for the
potential it brings forth. If that means abdicating our physical dominance for
our successors, then that is what we will accept. Such a time is a long way in
our future. In terms of evolution, we have only just begun such a journey.”

“How do you know if you’ve reached your pinnacle? That you should already
be making way?”

“We don’t. I live in the time of waiting. We expect it to last for
several tens of thousands of years. It may be that we will finally understand
ourselves through our stories. Many think that once such comprehension is
reached, we will simply cease to be. Then there are also those who expect us to
carry on in harmony with the planet until the sun itself grows cold and all
life is ended. Whatever our fate, I will never know. I am a simple custodian of
our life and essence for a short period. That is my purpose. I am content with
that and the wondrous stories I will hear in my short time. Can you say the
same with your life?”

“How well you know me already, Tyzak. No, my life lacks the surety and
tranquillity of yours. Perhaps if I am successful in knowing what I wish to
know of your ancestors, things will get better for me.”

“I have sorrow for you. I will do what I can to help your story finish
well.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s the local star,” Gore announced in midafternoon.

The Delivery Man glanced up through the canopy of furry branches
overhead. He and Tyzak were tramping through a forest where the hot air was
still and humid, heavy with a pepper-spice pollen. He squinted against the
sharp slivers of sunlight slicing down past the lacework of dangling blue and
green leaves. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. The zero-width wormhole used to extend a hundred and eighty
million clicks. That’s how far we are from the primary. There’s nothing else at
that distance. The
Last Throw
ran a sweep.”

“That’s a huge volume of space to cover with one sensor sweep. It could
easily have missed something, especially if it was stealthed. Or maybe the
station changed orbit.”

“You’re thinking like a human. Stop it. The Anomine didn’t have anything
to hide.”

The Delivery Man gave a loud laugh, which startled several of the big
clumsy birds from the treetops. “They hid the elevation mechanism well enough,
didn’t they?”

“It’s not hidden. We just don’t know how to look for it through their
perception.”

“That sounds like the argument of a desperate man.”
Or
worse, a crazy obsessive
.

“Son, you’re following a monster through a forest on an alien planet,
hoping it’ll ultimately take you back to your family. Please don’t talk to me
about desperate, okay?”

“All right, but answer me this: Why would you want to open a wormhole
into the middle of a star? You’d kill the planet on the other end.”

“It’s a zero-width wormhole; nothing physical passes down it.”

The Delivery Man could picture Gore’s face perfectly, gold skin at the
side of his eyes creased slightly as he frowned in annoyed perplexity. “Okay,
so what information can it gather from a star?”

“Not the star directly. There must be some kind of sensor bobbing about
under the corona. Or maybe deeper. We know they love their research
experiments.”

“We do, but we need the end result, remember?” He took a guess what Gore’s
next question was going to be; the impatience was obvious.

“How long until you get here?” Gore asked.

The Delivery Man smiled at the forest. “Give us another five hours.”

“For Christ’s sake!”

“We’re making good time,” he objected. “Tyzak isn’t exactly the youngest
Anomine in his village.”

“All right. I’ll be waiting.”

The Delivery Man thought it best not to point out that five hours would
only bring them to the edge of the city.

Dusk had already drained the sky of vitality when they began traversing the
flat grassland that skirted the Anomine city. It was a curiously unnerving
walk. Unlike a human city, there was no gradual buildup of the urban zone; here
it was clearly defined. One minute the suspiciously level and uniform grass was
underfoot, the next the Delivery Man was treading on a concrete-equivalent
street with a bulbous skyscraper rising high into the ash-gray sky in front of
him. Lights were starting to come on inside every building. There didn’t seem
to be windows in the human architecture mode; these massive structures had a
skin that was partially translucent. Staring at it hard, the Delivery Man
thought he saw some kind of movement in the faint moiré threads that suffused
the substance, as if it were a very slowly moving liquid. That was when he
realized it was the high-technology version of the membranes in the village
houses.

The deeper they walked into the city, the darker the sky above became. It
was mere minutes before the Delivery Man was completely surrounded by the
hulking buildings. He’d been in enough Anomine cities since they’d arrived in
the system not to be perturbed by the layout and profiles, but something about
being with Tyzak made this experience different. It seemed … not as deserted as
it appeared. Warm soft light illuminated the streets, creating a blend of
multicolored shadows playing across each surface. More than once he thought he
caught them fluttering from the corner of his eye. The sensation of being
watched was so great that he finally gave in and ordered his biononics to run a
fast field scan.

Obviously there was nothing. But that cold logic did nothing to dispel
the haunting sensation.

“Do you have stories of ghosts?” he asked Tyzak.

“Your translation machine is struggling with the word. Do you mean an
essence which lingers after the living body has died?”