mind answered, mockingly, Always, idiot!
“Not all of the nauallis are… are Judges,” he said, framing his words carefully. “There are those who collate data, who watch for trends-not the trivial ones of concern to the Emperor or the Mirror-but who sift for changes in who we are.”
“Humanity, you mean?” Anderssen frowned, gaining an unmistakable impression he was skirting around a deep and slippery pit. “What kind of changes?”
Hummingbird did not answer immediately, pursing his lips and watching her with a steady, unwavering gaze. At last he said: “It is not well known, Doctor, but there are-in broad strokes-three perceptual capacities expressed within the human species. There are those who accept the conceptual framework of cultural memes, who perceive only the nahualli, the disguise or mask of the world; they live and work and bear their children happily within this house of paintings. What they perceive is ahnelli, unrooted, inauthentic, a montage of lies and expectations, merely the replication and self-deception of contagious beliefs. There are those-to take a specific example-who express a belief in the Heavenly Creator, in the Risen Lord, in God-if they are asked. These are the people who attend religious services because everyone else does-who find a sense of community there, a sense of sharing which comforts them, or an avenue to power over their fellow men.” He raised one finger.
“Then there are those who do not partake of these collective memetic frameworks, who must question, seek out for themselves the nelli -the rooted, true, authentic cosmos. They must look beyond the world of dreams and illusion towards the teotl -the heart of things. They seek, but few succeed. A tlamatini instructs and teaches his pupil, but he cannot lead them beyond the disguise unless their heart opens of itself to become neltiliztli -well- rooted, authentic. When the second group express their belief it is not because they are infected by communal memes. When they worship, they do not do so because all around them do, but because of their own undiluted vision, whether it be false or true. If they do not believe in a thing, you cannot make them. For them the Mother of Tepeyac is seen to come down Her hill, roses rising with each footstep, to lift their chin and pour mercy into their eyes, or She does not. You cannot make them become believers, though they may tell you that they are believers- but if they are not, they cannot become so, even under the lash or when put in irons.” A second finger raised.
Gretchen snorted. “I know both of those sets of people!”
“Then there is the third group who are born with the potential for full wisdom and revelation,” and now the old Nahuatl’s voice shaded into an unconscious gravity. “Who need neither a church, nor a sermon, nor a book. They know the truth, the flower-and-song of reality, the constant becoming and motion of the world, and only the confusion of men and machines and the roar and tumult of society drives this sight from their minds.” The third finger joined the first two. “And these men and women are whence the saints and prophets come, the greatest artists and poets, the worst madmen and monsters without conscience or humanity-for they see that which most cannot, finding either everlasting splendor or unending horror behind the placid mask of the universe.”
Anderssen made a face, drawing back from Hummingbird, whose face had contorted into a tight forbidding expression. “You,” he continued, “are among a minute fraction of the third population-a genetic pool which is quite small to begin with-but then hidden among them, are those with the propensity to see.”
“You have got to be-”
“I am not joking, Doctor Anderssen.” The Crow’s voice was hard and flat, cutting her off. “I may be able to focus my mind, attain clarity of vision which eludes other men, perform feats which seem miraculous-but I am only a Second, not a Third. I was taught the arts of intuition to perceive the authentic world. And thus…” He gestured at the parchment envelope. “Such mechanisms are beyond my capacity to understand.”
“That,” Gretchen said, drawing a breath to steady herself, “is the kind of insanity which gives rise to racial genocide, and forced breeding, and tyranny! Human beings are all the same at the genetic level, Crow! That’s been shown thousands of times, on multiple worlds! Our differences are minute, one or two pairs of chromosomes fallen out in some random coupling of mitochondrial mitosis!”
The old Nahuatl shook his head in disagreement. Anderssen found herself reduced to glaring at him in outrage.
“This,” he said at last, “is not so. There are distinct and identifiable differences between the Firsts, Seconds, and Thirds. There is-” Hummingbird paused, jaw clenched against what he had almost said. “I cannot provide you proof out here, Doctor. But it does exist. You are a Third and the only one with your specific gift we have yet found amongst the current human population.”
“Current?” Anderssen gave him a mocking look. “What about the past, then? Who falls into your special society that I might, say, know from a history book? Or have seen on the 3-d, or perused in some wet-dream manga peddled by evil old meddlers like yourself!”
Her shout echoed from the walls of the medbay and Gretchen was suddenly aware that all of the noise outside, in the main sickbay, had stopped. She felt furious-used and deceived-and it was an effort to keep from picking up her breakfast tray and smashing it across Hummingbird’s masklike face.
In the moment before the door opened, the old Nahuatl said: “One of your distant relatives had a similar power-she could see what other men intended, sometimes even before they decided a course of action themselves. You would know her-the brightest star in the firmament of your people’s history-for she saved mankind from a truly dark path. But over seven hundred years have passed since-”
One of the medical orderlies opened the door and poked his head in, a professionally cheerful smile on his olive-skinned face. “Up and around, are we? Feeling better? Excellent- Chu-sa Kosho has been comming me for your status, Doctor Anderssen, at regular intervals.”
“Great.” Gretchen looked around for her jacket, fingering the medical tunic they’d put on her. “Where did my clothes go?”
The orderly was about to answer when a sudden noise erupted in the corridor outside. Someone shouted: “Ho there! Corpsman, secure quarters for the ambassador immediately!”
Gretchen peered out to see a pair of marines escorting a wretched-looking creature-obviously nonhuman, nose deep in a white plastic bucket-into the adjoining medbay. Medical staff converged on the alien from all directions, though most of them were taken aback by its peculiar appearance. To Anderssen it seemed most closely to resemble a grayish black anteater or perhaps a kind of erect sloth or tapir. A cloud of alcohol fumes drifted in their door and she grimaced at the smell of regurgitated rum. Then Hummingbird quietly closed the door, his head tilted in an attitude of listening.
“A heavy guard for such a pitiful-looking specimen,” the Crow said after a moment.
“It doesn’t look particularly dangerous. What species is it?”
Hummingbird gave her a considering look. “You heard the soldiers-an ambassador.”
“From where? Out here?” Gretchen’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Wait a moment… is this whole business an embassy to-whatever is hiding in this place?”
The old Nahuatl tilted his hand this way and that. “The Flowery Prince brought this one along at another’s command. But despite his poor appearance, the ambassador is quite dangerous-to us, to humanity. He is Hjogadim and they are quite rare in Imperial space.”
To Anderssen’s eye the Crow seemed to hop from one foot to the other, wings rustling nervously, before he took hold of the door latch again. “I need to speak to the ambassador-find your clothes, get dressed, and packed up. The Chu-sa needs you, remember?”
Then he slipped out quietly, the door barely making a noise as he passed over the threshold.
“Huh!” Gretchen began digging through the storage bins. Now I do truly need Magdalena and Parker and even Dai Bandao, if he were available. I need backup. I should not have lost my temper with the Crow. She sighed, suddenly weary. I am an idiot. I could have done this just as easily back home on New Aberdeen. But no-I have to come haring out here to the back of beyond, just on the off-chance I’ll touch the face of the unknown one more time.
Finding a shirt, spare field pants, and the leather jacket, Anderssen had managed to get herself together by the time Hummingbird reappeared, radiating pleased satisfaction. “Quickly now, Doctor Anderssen-we are accompanying the Esteemed Sahane to the bridge.”
Gretchen was holding the parchment envelope by her fingertips, careful not to actually press against the bronze-colored block inside. She shook her head angrily. “Why do you think I’ll come anywhere with you? You’ve used me as an experimental test subject to see if this… tool… would do me harm. Do you really think I would continue helping you, once I found out?”
Hummingbird paused in the doorway, watching her with an inscrutable expression. “If you do not come,
