Existence

built especially sturdy in the middle, it can be used as a parachute, to cushion the fall.

And so, when they came to our world, many of the messenger stones did not shy away, lurking at a safe distance to await technological civilization. Instead some chose a direct approach, raining down upon-

There appeared a new symbol, unlike anything Chinese, made up of elegant, curling, and looping lines that suggested waves churning a beach. The emblem reminded Bin of Turbulence and so that became his word for the planet.

– from many sources.

My species rose up to intelligence already knowing these sky-crystals, finding them occasionally in mud or ice. Even embedded on stone. Foraging packs of our pre-sapient ancestors cherished them. Early tribes fought over them, worshipped them, looked to them as oracles, seeking advice about the next hunt, about crude agriculture, about diplomacy. And marriage.

The alien made a gesture that Bin could not interpret-a writhing of both hands. And yet, he felt somehow sure that it expressed irony.

Thus, our evolution was guided. Accelerated.

Painting characters with a finger, Bin wrote bitterly that humanity never had such help. That is, unless you counted a few, vague strictures from Heaven. And, perhaps, some nudges from the rare messenger fragments that made it to Earth.

Do not envy too readily, Courier chided. It might have gone smoothly, if there were only one kind of stone, with one inhabitant each! But there were scores, perhaps even hundreds of crystal seers, scattered across many island continents! Only much later did we learn-they had come across space from several directions. At least eighteen different alien points of origin. Turbulence-planet sits at a meeting of galactic currents.

Then add this irksome fact. That each stone held multitudes! Communities, accumulations, whole zoos of “gods,” in many shapes, who bickered, even when they agreed.

We had the blessing-and curse-of highly varied counsel. Except, of course, when they all wanted the same thing.

But still, Bin wrote. They helped you rise up quickly.

Courier nodded. Though whether the gesture was native to it, or learned from other humans, Bin couldn’t tell.

One tribe-following advice from its shaman stone-practiced fierce eugenics upon itself, in mountain isolation, for fifty generations. When they burst forth, all other clans on that land mass were awed into submission, and local females wanted only to mate with their males.

The worldstone depicted a mob of naked primitives, bowing before another group that stood taller, more erect, wearing fur clothing, with wide noses and thick manes-more like Courier himself.

Meanwhile, on other continents and archipelagoes, different oracle stones offered guidance to groups near them, advising and rewarding compliance with counsel about hunting methods, the weather, taming wild beasts, or domesticating plants. Any tribe that had a god-crystal was tutored to breed itself smarter, tougher, better able to take over its neighbors.

Eventually, these spreading zones of modified people encountered each other. Conflict ensued! At first waged with stones and spears, then cannon and poisons. Urged to fight for total conquest, our ancestors studied the arts of genocide.

We soon learned a hard lesson. The only way to make peace between two tribes was to choose one set of jealous gods-a single oracle-and dispose of the other. Or hide it from sight. Only then would the surviving crystal allow both clans to meet in peace and interbreed, molding robust hybrids for the next confrontation.

Bin read the story while, behind the glowing ideograms, simulations showed members of Courier’s race growing stronger, quicker, taller, and more impressive, armed with tools of ever-increasing sophistication. From Courier’s choice of words, Bin sensed resentment over how these ancestors were manipulated into fighting one another. But honestly? This history seemed no more violent than humanity’s.

Less so! Because each war actually accomplished something. Resolution in a firm direction. Unification under one stone’s guidance. One set of “gods.”

And rapid progress. The simulated aliens-or heavenly advisers-had practical knowledge to impart. Useful methods gathered by dozens of races, under faraway suns. Helped by such hints, Courier’s people skipped countless centuries of rough trial and error.

Bin thought back to those arguments between Paul Menelaua and Anna Arroyo. He wished they were here. Not because they were ever friendly to him. But their back-and-forth tussles shed more light than either could manage alone. Bin recalled one extended debate over the role of religion in human development.

There had been so many cults on every continent. From Europe and Asia to the Americas, creeds varied widely in details of ritual and belief, yet were largely similar in one respect… the way all jealously demanded obedience, ritualistic repetition, the firm teaching of children, and fierce resistance to the lure of other sects-like the one followed by those filthy folks across the valley.

What was the term that Paul had used? For ideas that take root in human minds and force those minds to spread them farther?

Infectious memes, wrote the ai helper chip that floated in Bin’s right eyeball. Mental constructs that pass from human to human, like viruses, with the trait of making each host want to believe. And making him want to persuade others.

It wasn’t an easy concept for Bin to wrap his head around. As for the legend of Planet Turbulence, Bin could not suppress his jealousy. At least Courier’s people had gods who spoke clearly and taught practical things, making each generation healthier and stronger. Most human cultures had to sit still for long periods, while priests and aristocrats insisted that nothing should change. In the face of steady, conservative resistance, how many centuries did it take human beings to develop farms and roads, then advanced tools and schools, then universities and such, let alone actual science?

His aiware took that as a literal question.

Homo sapiens endured 2,000 generations, from the Neolithic renaissance until achieving civilization.

Before that, Homo neanderthalensis lasted 15,000 generations.

Homo erectus 50,000 generations.

Bin resisted a temptation to turn off the device, yet again. Though irritating, the implant might give him a small edge, when he finally met the owners of the mechanical sea serpent.

But… two thousand generations? Bin’s mind recoiled, unable to contemplate the vast span that humanity languished in dim ignorance, doomed to countless false starts and futile sidetracks. By comparison, Courier’s people took a shortcut stairway. An escalator! Bin wrote as much, with his fingertip.

The simulated alien replied,