delicious blend of fear and strangeness that her Undermind relished. She could feel the strumming presence of it and knew she would have to keep it carefully controlled. Her Undermind could slip words and even phrases into her speech, in its eagerness. And eager it was; she could feel the hopeful spikes of feeling. Drama was rare in an Astronomer’s life.
She shuffled her feet in the required way, said the right things, and needed scarcely any promptings from her inboards. They knew the steps but not the sway, and it was safe to ignore them here.
Memor hung back from the slowly ambling crowd of Astronomers, relishing the trumpeting salutes of greeting they gave. She always used the tone of these as a diagnostic of the collective mood, and today seemed more testy than usual. Some glowered at one another, while others passed in stiff silence, feathers turned to muted tones. Riffs and small songs danced among the bass notes of the many, a leitmotif. These came from the few young males, who walked quickly and greeted loudly, joyfully.
Memor had been male when young, of course — the great, vibrant stage of life. Then that Memor of vivid passions and great conquests had gone through the Revealing. It had been a passage of legendary ardor and travail. Mercifully, most such memories had been blotted away by the experience itself. Yet the lessons of being masculine lingered and blended with the feminine insights she was now acquiring. This merging led to the path of wisdom.
As with all mature Astronomers, Memor became a She of the Folk, after learning by direct experience the male view of the world. While a He, there came to the higher Folk the legendary great desires, an easy willingness to risk, to change and innovate. This phase of zest and emotion lasted nearly twelve-squared Annuals. Memor still recalled the He sadness when those vivid feelings fled, and the bodily shifts began. Memories remained, leaving their residue of longing for a He who could never be again.
In the Revealing’s changes, Memor had felt His/Her body shift with wrenching desires. The pains and startling fresh urges were also the focus of much Folk literature and dance, but few were nostalgic for that jittery chaos.
From the Revealing, Memor had acquired the long views of a She, while retaining the experience and fathoming of the He era. This conferred judgment and sympathy-from-experience on the Astronomers, a vital stabilizing element evolved by the Folk over many twelve-millennia in the truly ancient past.
This essential balance — more a dance, truly — between the He and She Memor now struggled to apply to the most unsettling event of her long life: the radical alien primates. Luckily, she had the Revealing when these aliens first appeared. That dual view of them should help her now.
“Memor! We have not greeted in longtimes,” came a solemn, deep voice.
Memor turned and saw the slim head of Asenath, the Chief of Wisdom. To be welcomed by such an august figure was surely a good sign — or was it? “I have longed to see you again,” Memor said. “I need your counsel.”
“And you shall have it,” Asenath said mildly. “I like your problems — they are more intriguing than our usual fare.”
Asenath turned to use her bulk as a sound screen, anticipating the arrival of someone out of Memor’s field of view. Memor did not have time to turn to see. Asenath said deftly, “Boredom need not come with every task, Memor, but it may seem so as you go forward.”
“I am honored,” Memor said with a suitable sub-murmur of respect. She filed the words pointedly with her inboards for later review. She was about to say more, but another voice intruded to her left, “I shall have much interest as well,” in tones more threatening.
Memor turned with a sense of dread to confront Kanamatha, the Council’s Biology Packmistress. “I hope to please you,” Memor said.
Kanamatha said, “I shall have many questions,” and in her quick-tongued way turned to Asenath and said, “Following yours, my dear.”
Memor knew she should say more, but the chimes sounded final call. Amid heady perfumes and sweet music, the cohort assembled beneath rippling lights. In their twelves they began entering the high chamber in all its splendor and beauty. In reverent silence they passed gleaming alabaster edifices, oversized onyx statues of the Builders lining the inward paths to the Citadel of the Council, small temples dotted with animal gods in ancient dress, grottoes for quiet negotiations — and perhaps for amorous assignations, when the time was ripe.
The following retinue included scribes, small musicians burdened with their instruments, waykeepers, lampists and mathists, stewards of the Savants, oil masseurs — and all trailing sycophants galore.
Formalities consumed some time, and then routine reports. Each bloc applied their own torque to the proceedings, peppering the reporters with questions.
The Council had three major factions — the Farmers who ruled the vital living self of the Bowl, the Governors and Bowlcrafters who integrated the Farmers’ intricate networks with the Bowl’s physical structure. Overseeing all this in the larger perspectives were, of course, the Astronomers.
All three sought more power, though of course none wished to be overtly seen as desiring it. Humble achievement was the goal. But having a particular goal could not be too obvious, or one would never attain it. Memor remained silent throughout this. The occasional reports came next, and Asenath declared a mealtime to separate the two. The twelve-squared all retreated to the banquet hall, nominally to feast but actually to make deals and sniff out new alliances.
Memor ate little, wanting to keep her wits sharp. When they returned to their seats, Asenath nodded to Memor.
“Please lead me,” Memor said to place the conversation in the right ranking order. She reported at length on the primates, their odd actions and even odder bodies. Full pictures of them floated in the chamber air, rotated to point out features. The genitalia were unexceptional but their carriage caused remarks. Memor skipped over the escape of some, stressing instead her studies of those captured. She showed the neural and brain interrogations and estimated their capacities — below the Folk, of course, but perhaps somewhat above others of the Adopted, those aliens already encountered and integrated into the Bowl.
She bowed with regret to report the escape of the second party, as well, from the high latitudes. Her ending was of course humble. “Apologies to you all for my failure to retain or recapture these strange primates.”
A rustle of reaction, hard for her to judge. The Council had many questions. Obviously, some had not read or even prior-memoried Memor’s reports.
Why did they wear clothing here in the Bowl’s mild climate? Was their world colder or more hostile? These coverings over all but head and outer extremities — were these rank symbols? Could the clothing hide subtle weapons? Or could their bodies be perhaps recently reengineered, and still fragile, needing to be wrapped?
When Memor described how the primates remained clothed except when sleeping, others asked if they were competing with one another, making declarations of self with clothing?
The primate hindfeet had thick coverings. Had they evolved on a world where their every step was threatened? How to explain that curious gait — their continual, controlled toppling must be a transitory style, surely? Bowl creatures used more certain gaits, to avoid falling injuries. Two-legged forms were few.
A Crafter had a detailed set of questions, embedded in her description of inspecting the primates. The teeth appeared to be all-purpose, but did that mouth truly need an ugly protruding flap of muscle? A proper design would have sheltered the protruding eyes better, yes? Did the tiny knob nose mean they could not smell well through the tiny nostril bump-with-holes? How useful could those modified forefeet be, versus the obvious better choice to remain on four legs and have arms as well?
They seemed to use base ten, rather than the more efficient base twelve. Why?
“Their hands have ten digits.”
“Surely the obvious advantages of twelve — first three fractions are integers, many other easeful facets — would outweigh that, in an intelligent species.”
Memor could not contest this, and so moved on. “They display an odd adaptation — ”
She showed short clips of several humans talking, their odd mouths flapping rapidly. Across their narrow faces quick muscular changes flew, a darting sequence of eyebrow lifts, shaped lips, eye moves, nostril flarings, tilts and juts of chin and jaw.
“They have this much expression, yet never evolved feather flaunting?” Biology Savant Ramanuji asked.
“Apparently they use their heads alone. Plus hands.”
Sniffs and rumbles of disbelief chorused through the high vaulted room.
