Where did it all start anyway? "Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma..." I said. A baby makes noises and gets a warm tit shoved in its face. That's such a powerful lesson that we spend the rest of our lives trying to find the right noises to make so we can keep getting warm tits to suck on. We spend years shrieking and yammering at each other, looking for the right control phrases. Humans have more control phrases than robots. Say, "I love you," and you can get laid. Say, "Fuck you," and you can have a fight. It's as simple as any other machine
-it clicked.
We treat each other like machines. We manipulate.
When the apes gave up language, the control phrases didn't work any more. You could push the buttons all you wanted, but the machinery was broken. "Blabber ... blabber ... blabber... ." I felt the grin spreading across my face. This was very interesting.
If you said a word over and over and over, and did it long enough, it lost all its meaning. But how do you lose a whole language? How do you detach all the meanings from all the words, the sounds, when you've spent a whole lifetime putting them together? How do you lose even the capacity for language?
"Blabber... blabber... blabber.. . . "
I had the feeling I was doing it wrong. I was sitting here trying to figure it out.
Maybe this wasn't something you figured out. You just... did it. That didn't make sense, but then-figuring it out wasn't making any sense either. I just didn't know enough. Maybe if I
No. Stop figuring it out.
I was a part of the herd now. Because I said so.
I was the part that was sitting here in red shorts trying to figure out how to be a part of the herd. I was the stupid part. I was trying to figure out how to be what I already was.
I could let go now. I was here.
A teenage boy squatted down in front of me. Uncomfortably close. He was dirty and naked. He had stringy black hair and a large narrow nose. His eyes were extraordinarily wide; they were a startling shade of liquid blue. He stared at me curiously.
"Hi," I said, and smiled. Almost immediately, I knew it was the wrong thing to do. There was too much meaning in the words, and not enough of that other quality.
The boy blinked and kept staring at me.
I felt as if I were being tested. As if the herd were some kind of macro-organism looking to see if I had been assimilated yet. The boy scratched himself absentmindedly. His nails were long and dirty. Ape hands. That's what his hands reminded me of. He was skinny, like an ape, too. He squatted on his haunches, studying me. I studied back. I stopped trying to figure him out and just focused on him like a camera, watching him. His eyes were remarkably interesting. Too blue to be real. He had thick dark lashes that shadowed his expression with mystery.
But why was he so interested in me? I couldn't tell what he was thinking by looking at his face. He was there-and he was unreadable. His soul was home, I could sense that-somehow-but there was nothing else going on. No ... thoughts. No ... identity. It was compelling, just to sit there and look at him looking at me. It wasn't a staring contest. It was a ... a being with.
Fletcher had had me practice this. Being with. Intensely. I couldn't look away. I didn't want to look away. It was a strangely reassuring encounter.
I realized what it was about his eyes that disconcerted me-they were too feminine. If a woman had eyes like that, she would be a model or a movie star. On a boy... they were simply overwhelming.
There was a strange kind of peace here. I could drown in it.
The boy reached out and touched my face. Like an ape, exploring a strange object. He touched my hair, patted it. His hand moved cautiously, drew back quickly. He smelled of dust.
And then he dropped his hand again. And waited.
I don't know how I knew what he was waiting for, but I knew that it was an invitation.
I touched his face as he had touched mine. I touched his hair; I let my fingers drift across his cheek. A smile spread across his face. He reached up and took my fingers in his hand and looked at them. I could see how clean my hand was in his. He sniffed my fingers. His pink tongue flicked out in a tentative, delicate movement and tasted my fingertips. He smiled at me again. He liked the way I tasted. He let go of my hand. And waited again.
Was I supposed to taste his fingers now?
I took his hand in mine. And sniffed it. And tasted. Dirt. I smiled at him.
He smiled back. It was good. Complete.
The boy stood up then and walked away. Didn't look back to see if I was following. I didn't know why; I followed. Realized I wasn't used to going barefoot. The dry grass hurt my feet.
My body felt... held back. Not free. I knew what it was. I stopped and dropped my shorts, stepped out of them. Felt myself begin to disappear. Into the crowd. The herd. All bodies. Had to let go of bodies first. Be naked. Free. Vulnerable.
Accessible. Available.
Beginning to feel enveloped. Like sunshine. Bathe in it. Withhold nothing. Let it go. Giggling. Feeling. Silly.
Crazy. Mind-noise. Wondering what patterns. Meaning. Applying. Here. Confusing. Concepts. Silly. Feeling
Shook my head. Puzzled. Startled myself back to reality-turned around slowly in confusion. Looking for?
I wandered in a daze, I wasn't sure how long. I remember stopping to drink at the wading pool again, and I remember emptying my bladder in a sodden ditch at the east end of the park.
I remember getting hungry and finding my way over to the trucks when they rolled into the park. I pulled off a piece of the loaf and found a place to sit and eat.
Blinking. What was-happened?
Moment after moment after moment, but none of them bound together-so none of them are remembered. All lost as soon as they occur. A roller coaster.
No control.
I'd thought I'd understood. I'd thought that I could get a sense of it. I was mistaken.
I had to get out.
I stood up and headed toward the Jeep. Toward where the Jeep had been parked. And Fletcher. "I'm coming out," I said. I touched the collar. "This isn't going to work. Fletcher, are you listening? I'm coming out. This is Jim." I touched the collar like an icon. My life depended on it. "Fletcher?"
There was no reply.
Was the collar still working?
It didn't matter. I'd just go straight to the Jeep.
I realized I was naked. Where had I dropped my shorts? I should look for them. I moved through the milling bodies with a purposefulness they lacked. Some of them turned to look at me. Then they turned back to their own concerns. Their food. Their mates. Their games. Most of them were naked. Turning.
I didn't see my shorts. I gave up looking. There'd be a blanket at the Jeep anyway, or a coat. I stopped and turned around slowly, scanning the edges of the plaza. Now, where-?
-am I?
No, don't panic. It's all right. She's probably monitoring from a distance. That's all. She said it herself, it wouldn't be a good idea for her to stay too close to the herd.
A note in the air. I turned to look.
Children, humming. A tuneless hum, but
-and the females humming too. Chorusing. An odd atonal wail. All vowels.
Oh, no. No. That wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow. Oh, God. The gathering. The tuning. It's accelerated again. Two days in a row now!
Others picking up the hum. Discordance. Babbling. Trying to find the note
I have to get out of here. Now. I turned around in panic.
It was building rapidly. Much too fast. Remember what happened to me last time. I have to get out of here while I still remember.
And now, the males-the voices deep growling at the bottom end of the scale. And the females are unearthly, an almost heavenly chorus. The cubs' voices are high and sweet... and curiously musical.