“What would be adequate?” asked one of the other passengers, Mary DiPalma, who was a stage magician from London.
“Something along the lines of an undisciplined torrent. They’ll tell you that the human psyche is chaotic.”
Great. If that’s really so, no wonder they think we’re all idiots. “The conscious level,”
I said. “But not subconscious?”
“They say not,” said Joe. He laid his head on the back of the chair. “They didn’t settle the transmission/reception issue, by the way, until they encountered us.”
“Really. How’d that happen?”
“They understood a lot of what we were thinking, although a fair amount of it was garbled because of the language problem. When they tried to send something, I gather we just stared back.”
Somebody else, I don’t recall who, asked about animals. Can they read animals, too?
Joe nodded. “The higher creatures, to a degree.”
“And pain?” asked Mary DiPalma.
“Oh, yes. Absolutely.”
“That must be a problem for them.”
Frank took a long breath. “What’s the survival advantage in that?” he asked. “I’d expect that a creature that feels pain around it would not last long.”
Joe thought it over. “Evolution happens along two tracks,” he said. “One track is individually based, and the other assists survival of the species. Or at least, that’s the way it was explained to me. It’s not my field.”
“Then they’re not predators,” I suggested.
One of the women laughed. “Not predators? You get a look at those bicuspids? And the eyes? They’re hunters, no doubt about that.”
“That’s true,” said Joe. “From what I understand, they don’t make the connection with their natural prey. It also seems to be the case that they developed the telepathic capability relatively late. They’re a much older species than we are, by the way.”
“I wonder,” said one of the guys, “if we’ll develop psi abilities eventually.”
One of the women drew herself up straighter. “I certainly hope not,” she said.
Mary laughed. “I can already do it.”
“Show me,” said Larry, the youngest guy on the ship.
Mary turned to me. “Can’t you read his mind, Chase?”
“Oh, yes,” I said.
Nobody seemed in a hurry to make port. Frank broke out drinks every evening, and we partied. Mary warned me that she still remembered her first flight into alien space and how unnerving it had been. “But just relax and enjoy it,” she said. “You’ll never experience anything like it the rest of your life.”
They were good times on the Dipsy-Doodle.
I should say up front that during my visit to Mute country, no Ashiyyurean mistreated me in any way, or was anything but courteous. Still, we were aware of the thing on the bridge, that it was different, not only physically, but in some spiritual way. And that sense of the other, however nonthreatening it might be, drove us together. Herd instinct in action.
I made several friends on that flight, people with whom I’m still in contact. Like Joe Klaymoor, a sociologist from Toxicon, studying the effects on a society of widespread telepathy. And Mary DiPalma, from ancient London. Mary showed me enough to make me believe in magic. And Tolman Edward, who represented a trading company.
Tolman, like me, had never been in the Assemblage before. He was headed into the interior to try to straighten out a trade problem.
I’ve thought since that the entire effort, trying to chase down the Falcon, was worth it just for the few days I spent with them. It had all started with a drinking cup from an interstellar. I have another one on my desk as I write these words. The characters, once again, are unfamiliar. The eagle is replaced by a seven-pointed star with a halo.
It belonged, not to the Seeker, but to the Dipsy-Doodle.
But it had to end. When Captain Japuhr came back to inform us that we would be docking in fourteen hours, we all felt as if something was being lost. I’ve been on a lot of flights, a lifetime’s worth, but I’ve never known anything quite like it. He asked if we were comfortable, and if there was anything he could do. Then he withdrew.
Frank took me aside. “Have you figured out how you’re going to get around?” he asked.
“How do you mean?”
“There’ll be a language problem.”
“Why?” I’d assumed I was dealing with mind readers, so communication should be easy.
“You think in Standard. They’ll read images, but not the language. Even if you can get them to understand you, you still won’t be able to understand them.”
“What do you suggest?”
He opened a cabinet and took out a notebook. “This will help,” he said. He turned it on and spoke to it. “Help me, I’m lost, I have no idea where I am.” A group of Mute words appeared on the screen. “Just show them this. They’ll read it, and they can input an answer for you.” He smiled. “Don’t expect them to be wearing voice boxes.”
“How do I read the reply?”
It had a Mute keyboard. “They can poke in whatever they want to say. It will translate and put it on the display.” He frowned at it. “It’s not practical for long conversations, but it will help you order food and find your hotel.”
“May I borrow it?”
“You can rent it.”
“Absolutely,” I said. It wasn’t cheap, but I put it on Rainbow’s account. “What about food? Will I have trouble?”
“Some of the major hotels can provide a menu for you. Don’t try to eat the stuff the Ashiyyur do. Okay?”
I’d seen pictures of what they eat. There was no danger of that.
“One other thing, Chase. There’ll always be somebody who can speak Standard at our service counter. We’re also as close as your link. They’ll be able to direct you where you want to go.”
We disembarked that night at the Xiala orbiter, picked up our bags, and did a last round of good-byes. Good luck and all that. Captain Japuhr came out to wish us farewell. Everybody shook hands and hugged. We clung together for a few steps as we moved out into a concourse filled with Mutes. They towered over us and they had six digits on each hand and they liked solemn clothing (except one female with a yellow hat that looked like a sombrero). They eyed us as if we were, as the old saying goes, from Bashubal. Frank lingered with us and told us we’d be fine and wished us luck. He seemed especially concerned about me. And then, finally, I was alone.
I’ve watched lovers walk out of my life twice, guys I was seriously attached to, and about whom I still have regrets. But I never watched anybody walk off with quite the same level of misgiving as on that occasion.
A female with two children passed me, and she moved to put herself between them and me as if I might be dangerous. I wondered if she-and they-picked up the sudden resentment I felt. What was the point of having telepathic abilities if empathy didn’t come with them?
The concourse was almost empty, for which I was grateful. I wandered over to one of the portals and looked down. The sun was just rising over the curve of the planet.
Directly below, it was still night over a major landmass. I could see a single big moon.
It was setting in the west, and its soft glow illuminated a series of mountain peaks.
The service counter surprised me. The avatar was a duplicate of me. “How may I help you, Chase?” she asked.
She confirmed my booking to Borkarat. The ship would leave next afternoon. She recommended a hotel, made my reservation, and wished me a pleasant evening.
Actually, she looked pretty good.
Overall anatomical structure of the Mutes is similar to our own, at least as far as things like waste disposal are concerned. I suppose there are only so many ways an intelligent creature can function. There’ll necessarily be gravity, so energy-source intake has to happen near the top of the anatomy, the processing functions midway, and elimination near the bottom of the working area. What I’m saying is that the rooms assigned to humans at the Gobul Hotel were Mute rooms. Everything was bigger, and I’ll confess I found the toilet something of a challenge.
I took my first meal in the restaurant, in an effort to accustom myself to my hosts.