Our Dried Voices (15 page)

“Pastor is thanking the cow for its sacrifice,” Fia whispered to Samuel.

Pastor drew a sharp, metal tool from his belt. He stepped to the animal’s side and stroked the back of its neck. Then in one quick motion, he held the cow’s head in one hand and drew the tool across its throat with the other. A bright red liquid spurted against the white fur on its chest as its knees buckled and it slumped to the ground and lay there motionless.

Samuel shuddered at the memory of the cow in the enclosed room behind the meal hall. “Is it…?” he whispered to Fia.

“Yes,” she replied. “We do our best to make it painless.”

Samuel looked at the cow’s wide eyes and open mouth and thought of the face of the male who died from drinking the poisoned river water. Pastor stooped down and gently wiped the creature’s eyelids closed.

“Does Pastor make the meal cakes too?” Samuel asked.

Fia laughed. She took his arm and began to lead him from the building.

“We do not have meal cakes here,” she said. “Pastor will prepare the cow for us to eat. He will make sure that all parts of it are used for some purpose. They are very valuable animals. Like humans, the females also produce a liquid that is good to drink. What we do not eat we can use for building and making clothes and blankets.”

Back outside, Fia led Samuel to another part of the colony where other colonists tended to a variety of plants, even more than Samuel had seen in the secret rooms in his own colony. There were rows and rows of many bright green leafy plants of all sizes and shades and varieties, bunches of wispy golden stalks, and even some trees adorned with vibrantly colored spheres of red and green and orange.

“This is where the rest of our food is grown,” said Fia. “They are like those plants you discovered in the greenhouses.”

Samuel stared at the verdant fields in amazement. “There are so many.”

“Yes,” said Fia, “and they are all good to eat, and they all taste different.”

“What do you mean?”

“They do different things to your mouth. They are not like meal cakes. I will show you later.”

She led him on to see all the many sights and activities of their colony. There were whole buildings dedicated to different endeavors. Some were small structures occupied by one or two people, while others were nearly as long as the halls in Samuel’s colony but only about three meters high. In one of the smaller buildings, a woman dressed in a brightly colored shirt of pale green and blue swirls sat before a wooden rack lined with many colored strings and wove them together to make large pieces of fabric. Fia introduced her as Huri and explained that she and her helpers made the clothing for every person in their colony. None of these colonists dressed in the plain off-white smocks of Samuel’s colony. Fia herself wore a bright red open-necked shirt and loose white pants.

In the next building, Olla and his assistant Hesta molded hard red soil into flat circles and deep half-spheres and heated them in a large metal container to make the dishes used for serving food throughout the colony. In other small huts, different people shaped pieces of metal into tools and dried out cow skin and fashioned it into a variety of containers and clothing. Still others painted pictures in a multitude of vivid colors or carved figures out of stone, merely to create objects that were pleasing to the eye.

Next they visited one of the larger halls, which was lined with wooden tables that stretched the length of the building. Dozens of people sat bent over these tables and furiously scribbled numbers, words and diagrams, pored over piles of paper, and tinkered with all kinds of metals, glasses, wires, plants and fabrics.

“This is where I work,” said Fia. “The people in this building are trying to understand more about our world.”

She led Samuel to a space at one of the tables where a single darkened light bulb rested next to a collection of glass and metal and wires. “I am working with lights,” she said as she gestured to the objects on the table. “We have them in the mountains and in your greenhouses. We have discovered how they work, but now we are trying to build our own.”

Samuel gazed around at the many gadgets beyond his comprehension.

“Everything you have seen so far, in your colony and in ours, someone here is trying to improve,” said Fia. “Humans built your colony long ago, and now we want to discover how these things work so we may use them for ourselves and make them better.”

She led Samuel into another long hall with floor-to-ceiling shelves on both sides, all of them stacked high with sheets of paper bound in dried cow skins.

“This is the library,” said Fia, as she removed one of the heaps of paper fro
m its shelf, “and these are books. They contain information and stories about the world so we can learn from them. Some of these were brought here from Earth by the first people to come to Pearl. That is how we know of our ancestors.”

The next building, on the opposite side of the library from the workshop, was about half the length of the previous two halls. Fia opened the door, and together they peered inside. A large circular table dominated the room, with many rows of empty wooden benches beyond it. The middle of the table had also been cut out in a circle, and there were people seated all around the inside and outside of the table. They spoke incessantly and seemed to be arguing about something, but their words came so quickly, and many were beyond Samuel’s understanding.

“These people help make the rules for our colony,” whispered Fia. “They discuss what they think is best for us to do until they agree on a new rule or a change to an old one. Then the rest of us gather and choose whether or not we will accept their idea. Right now they are trying to decide how the food and other products should be distributed.”

“What do you mean?” asked Samuel.

Fia closed the door. “Every person in our colony must work in some way. We each get to choose the activity we most enjoy. And because we each make something different, we share our products with one another. So Pastor and the other herders share the food they get from the cows, just as Huri shares the clothing she makes. But some people think this sharing should be done differently. And that is what they are trying to decide.”

Samuel nodded.

“The most important thing is that each person does something with his mind. That is the first rule of our colony: ‘Each human must use his mind actively and productively in the way it is meant to be used.’ That is the standard of our race, that we can think, that we can use our minds to solve problems and make the world better for ourselves. So everyone who lives in this colony must do just that.”

“Yes, our colony does not have that,” said Samuel. A troubling thought occurre
d to him. “But what about a rule against hurting another person?”

Fia’s brow wrinkled. “Of course,” she said, “that goes without saying.”

“But…”

“What?” asked Fia.

“I don’t know. Never mind.”

Fia waited a moment but Samuel remained silent. They walked on, exploring everything else there was to see in the colony until the sun hovered over the horizon and the sky blazed bright orange.

* * *

As th
e sun set, they came to the building where Fia lived, a small wooden house with walls made of long cylindrical poles stacked lengthwise one on top of the other. The interior had no floor, only hard, compact dirt, so smooth and even it did not stain the bottoms of their feet. The ceiling was constructed from more wooden poles laid parallel to one another atop the walls, with the gaps between the wood sealed with packed brown earth. Each wall had a large square window filled with a glass pane. Two beds and a simple wooden table and chairs furnished the room.

Fia set about making the evening meal. She handed Samuel a metal pail and asked him to fetch some water from the pond. By the time he returned, Fia had laid out the food to be prepared on the table. There was a thick slab of some fleshy crimson substance Fia said had come from one of the cows, a mixture of leaves of different sizes and shades of green, and two square-shaped pieces of a soft, roughly textured food called “bread,” which Fia told him she had made from the tan-colored plants in the meadow. She cooked the cow meat over a wispy orange light that flickered and danced inside a metal shell.

When they sat down to eat, Fia picked up the two metal rods that lay on the table next to her plate. A matching set rested at Samuel’s place, one of them pressed into a sharp edge along one half of the tool, the other with what almost looked like a han
d at one end. Samuel picked up the tools and stared at them curiously.

“I doubt you have used a fork and knife before,” Fia said, her eyes sparkling with that familiar copper gleam.

Samuel shook his head. Fia held the tools aloft and indicated for Samuel to follow suit. She used the four prongs of the fork to stab her portion of meat and hold it in place, then cut off a bite-sized piece with her knife and raised it to her mouth on the spears of the fork. Samuel watched her and tried to imitate as best he could, knowing he must have looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Something else that sets us apart from the animals,” said Fia. Samuel looked up from his struggles with the cow meat and saw her smiling at him kindly.

He forced a grin as he turned the meat over in his mouth. “I guess so.”

They ate in silence for a while. Samuel kept his head down, but peered up occasionally from under his brow to watch Fia handle her utensils. She finished her meal before Samuel was even halfway done. When his hands hurt from gripping the fork and knife so tightly, he set them down and looked at Fia. She watched him without a shred of impatience or amusement at his struggles.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

“Of course,” she answered. “You were one of those who followed me. You and that woman.”

“Penny,” said Samuel.

“Yes. Penny.”

Samuel looked back down at his food. He picked up his utensils and managed to cut off another piece of meat. He chewed it slowly and swallowed. “What happens now?”

Fia’s face clouded briefly. “You are allowed to stay one night as our guest. But tomorrow you must choose.”

“Choose?” Samuel asked. “Choose what?”

“Whether or not you will live here with us from now on.”

XXV

S
amuel awoke the next morning to find Leomedes seated at the table in the middle of the room. Fia was preparing the morning meal.

“Good morning, Samuel,” said Leomedes. “I trust Fia has taken good care of you.”

“Yes, she has,” Samuel replied. “Good morning.”

Fia served the food into three bowls and set them on the table. “Come and eat,” she said to Samuel.

The meal consisted of a mixture of some rough, beige flakes with a subtle flavor similar to bread, and some sweet-tasting slices of the brightly colored spheres that grew on the trees in the meadow. Samuel could not imagine eating meal cakes again. When they had finished, Fia cleared the dishes away from the table. Leomedes stood up.

“Thank you Fia,” he said. “Everything was wonderful.” He turned to Samuel. “Come with me. There is something I want to show you. Goodbye, Fia. We will see you later.”

“Goodbye, Fia,” said Samuel. “Thank you for everything.”

Fia poured some water on the dishes and began to clean them in the metal basin next to the fireplace. She looked up and held Samuel’s gaze for a moment. Faint creases had appeared under her eyes and in the hollows of her cheeks. “You’re very welcome, Samuel,” she said. “I will see you later.”

They walked outside. The early morning sun was yellow and bare and starkly beautiful in the vast cloudless sky. Leomedes led Samuel across the meadow toward the mountains. The grass felt rich and springy under his feet.

“Well, Samuel,” said Leomedes, “did you enjoy your stay?”

“Yes, yes I did,” Samuel replied.

“Good. Did Fia answer all your questions?”

“Yes. Everything I asked. But I was also wondering, how do you control the weather?”

“That I do not know,” Leomedes answered. “We know how to use the machine in the control room. You figured that out yourself. It must have been built by the first humans who came to Pearl, the people who created your old colony. But how the machine actually affects the weather remains a secret of those who came before us. Perhaps that is something you could help us discover.”

Two young men ran up beside them. They were both built like Leomedes, thin and wiry-strong, but their bodies were well-hidden beneath loose, off-white tunics—the same clothing worn by members of Samuel’s old colony.

“Excuse me,” said Leomedes, and he ushered the men a few meters away from Samuel where they held a brief whispered conversation. When they had finished, the two men raced away in the direction of the mountains. Leomedes rejoined Samuel.

“We are preparing the challenges to bring the next student to our colony,” he said. “Come, I will show you.”

They walked to the mountain and Samuel followed Leomedes up the stairs and into the dimly lit tunnel. After five minutes, they emerged into the spacious chamber where they had first met, and then Leomedes led Samuel back into the mountain control room. Leomedes moved to the circular console and began to scan the video screens.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning to Samuel.

He pointed at the video in front of him and touched a control on the console below the screen. The image grew larger, centering on a throng of colonists gathered in one of the meal halls. Penny knelt at the center of the crowd, distributing meal cakes at the morning meal.

Samuel hurried forward, eyes fixed to the screen.

“You know her, don’t you?” asked Leomedes. “She is your friend?”

“Penny…” Samuel stared at the tiny image in disbelief. It seemed impossible to imagine Penny passing out meal cakes to a horde of colonists after what he had seen the previous day.

“Penny,” Leomedes repeated.

Samuel shook off his daze and turned to look at him. “Penny. Yes, she is my friend.”

“You have done well with her,” Leomedes said. “She has come a long way. But now she is ready to go one step further.”

“What do you mean?” asked Samuel.

“She is the next one we will bring here,” said Leomedes. “We are preparing the next set of challenges for her.”

Samuel stared at Leomedes for a moment, then back at the video. Penny had finished passing out the meal cakes and was putting the box back on the wall. She turned to leave the hall, her own meal cake in hand, then paused for a moment and looked up, gazing right out of the video screen at Samuel. Samuel leaned forward and steadied himself against the console. He stared back into her eyes, big and glossy as ever. For a moment they seemed to shimmer with some faint spark, though perhaps it was only the video or a trick of the light in the meal hall. But then she looked away and walked toward the door. Samuel turned to follow her on another screen as she exited the meal hall, but Leomedes stopped him.

“Come,” he said. “It is time.”

Leomedes walked to the tunnel. Samuel scanned the videos once more, then followed him back to the large anteroom. The departed heroes of Samuel’s colony waited for him there, Fia among them. Leomedes walked ahead of Samuel to stand with his people. Samuel slowed to a stop in front of them.

“Well, Samuel,” Leomedes began. “You have seen our colony. You have seen the world we are trying to create. Now you must decide whether or not you wish to stay here.”

Samuel stared back at Leomedes, but he did not know what to say. Too many thoughts rushed through his mind. The eyes of those gathered behind Leomedes fell heavily upon him.

“Well?” said Leomedes. “Will you join us?”

He took a step toward Samuel and held out his arm in a welcoming gesture. Yet something about this action struck Samuel the wrong way.

“I… I don’t know,” he replied.

Leomedes stopped in his tracks and sneered incredulously. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I…”

“Do you wish you had not learned all you have?”

“No.”

“Do you wish you had not come here at all?”

“N
o.”

“Do you wish you could go back to living like them?”

“No, of course not.”

“Of course not. There is nothing for you there. You have seen it for yourself. You have felt the heavy, heavy burden of thinking for them, of providing for them. You have been a slave to those who do not possess one shred of the intelligence they would need to truly command you. You are free. Your mind makes you free. There is no reason to imprison yourself among them anymore.”

Fia stepped forward to stand just behind Leomedes.“I know why you hesitate,” she said. “I too have stood where you stand. I too have faced the same decision you now face. But he is right,” she said, glancing toward Leomedes. “If you go back to your old colony, you will forever use your mind only to serve the needs of others. You will have to solve their problems for them. You will have to feed them and protect them the whole of each day, for every day from now until your end. But if you join us, you will be able to use your mind however you want, to solve the problems you wish to solve, to answer the questions you ask yourself in your own mind.”

“All of us here stand upon the brink of a new world,” Leomedes said. “This land, this planet, is still unknown to us. You can help us learn what we wish to know. We want you to help us. And we want to help you learn that which stimulates your mind as well.”

Samuel looked at Fia and then at Leomedes. He glanced down and nodded slowly. But still he did not step forward.

Leomedes went on. “If you join us, you will help us learn and understand and move forward in our knowledge. But if you return to them, you will forever doom them to an eternity without these things, without even thought. For as long as you are a part of that colony, they will never be compelled to learn for themselves. Every challenge they face, you will solve for them. Every question that needs answering and requires the least bit of thought, you will answer for them. And why shouldn’t you? You now possess the intellect to do, in a matter of moments, what it would take their feeble minds days or weeks to accomplish. But as long as you think for them, they will never think for th
emselves. And then the last vestiges of humanity will be lost.”

“I do not wish to think for those who do not think for themselves,” said Samuel.

“Of course not,” Leomedes replied. “So join us. Together we will help develop their minds. We will help them relearn how to think. We will restore humanity.”

“But what about the people who do not learn?” Samuel asked. “What about the people who do not think for themselves? What will happen to them?”

Leomedes’ face hardened, and his sharp cheekbones pressed against the skin like the mountain rock under layers of snow. “Ah, yes,” he said. “You worry about what our challenges will do to those who are not strong enough to take the path you have followed. But let me ask you something. You encountered the cows in the greenhouses next to the meal halls. You know what happens to them. You know how they are made into the food you eat. And yet you continue to eat it. Why? Because they do not think as you do. Because if you had to make a choice between creatures like them and creatures like yourself, you would choose to save those like yourself without any hesitation. But tell me then, what is the difference between those creatures and the so-called people of the colony, who scarcely possess one single shred more intellect than other animals, who willfully deny the privilege of thought with every breath they take, who live off the minds of you and others like you who have provided them with everything they need to survive, devouring it all slowly and thoughtlessly, with the same blank stare as cows eating grass from the meadow?”

Samuel had no answer. He looked away from Leomedes and his eyes met Fia’s gaze, and in that one glance he realized she understood him instantly, knew him as well as she knew herself, because they were one and the same. And in that moment, Samuel knew he would never need to explain his innermost thoughts to her, that in her presence he would never be plagued by the constant haunting trepidation that she would not understand him, that no one would understand him, that he would always be alone.

And then he thought of Penny. Thought of her dark, shining eyes, eyes that shone from without, not from within, eyes that captured the whole world in their dark depths but seemed to hold no light of their own. Thought of the way her brow furrowed as he spoke to her, the way her face grew tighter and tighter in frustrated concentration as his voice rose with excitement. Thought of her soft, shy smile. Thought of the look on her face as she handed him her meal cake before she sadly ushered him out into the snow. Thought of their night walks together through the cool meadows of the colony. Thought of the first time they had spoken, and the last.

“I will not join you,” he said, very quietly at first.

Leomedes did not seem to hear him and took a short step forward, but then stopped as Samuel’s words reached him at last.

“What?” he asked, an edge in his voice. “What did you say?”

“I will not join you,” Samuel repeated, louder this time, his shoulders thrown back, neck taut, back rigid, arms relaxed at his sides.

No one spoke. Leomedes’ face drew tight for a moment and then a slow smirk began to creep back over his lips. Samuel turned on his heel and started for the tunnel behind him, his gaze passing once more over Fia’s. Their eyes met for just an instant, but Samuel thought he saw a look of understanding in them still. Then their bright copper gleam was gone, and he was walking down the dark passage out of the cavern. No one moved. No one made a sound. He was halfway through the tunnel when he heard Leomedes erupt into laughter behind him, the sound booming off the walls of the cavern and surrounding him in the passage. But still no one moved to stop him. No one followed him.

He emerged into the circular room with the video screens on the walls and the console below with all its buttons, switches and levers. He scanned the videos until he found one that showed the interior of one of the meal halls. A switch lay below the screen between two sets of pictures, one on the left with circles of many different sizes, the other on the right with several circles of equal size. The switch was set to the left, and Samuel flipped it back to the right. He took one more glance around the room, at the video monitors, the lights, the buttons, knowing full well his last action was futile, that anything that happened in their little colony could be undone by a simple flick of one of these switches. He could still hear Leomedes’ laughter ringing in his ears. He gathered his blankets, went to the door and opened it.

It was late morning. The sun shone brilliantly in the clear blue sky. He closed the door behind him and the laughter in his head died out. He gazed out across the wide and empty meadows. In the distance, he could make out the buildings of the colony. He shaded his eyes against the bright morning sun and began to walk.