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childmind // starless; Sci-fi short story
Topic Started: Oct 11 2011, 06:01 PM (78 Views)
Christine G
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Ze Writing Shaman
Note to members: this piece re-posted for Archives. Piece written March 2011 by CDA senior Christine G.

Author's notes: This is a sort of style experiment using characters with telepathy, and trying to mix italics text and sentences that don't have any real grammar structure to imitate a stream of consciousness and multiple half-formed thoughts. This is also an experiment on showing emotions indirectly by having a character say or think something to themselves that they don't really believe. See if you can figure out what's going on.

This piece is rated E for non-violent deaths, a reference to mass epidemic, and because my target audience is teens and older.

childmind // starless
=================================================

Space looks different.

I remember everything seemed strange after mana'h died. The colors of the world looked wrong, her eyes in the pictures looked distant, and sounds seemed to have gone away with her. "Mndirai, sh'ae kln'ti uoun," murmured aeve'h: Dear ones, you may grieve. That is ridiculous of course. Such thoughts waste time and promote idleness, serving no end. We are not like the ShinaAki, whose poets sang, weeping softly but openly as the shuttle slowly drew away from our dying land.

The thoughts of the other races were loud and largely emotional whenever I reached out to search for the minds of other Aze'm. disbelief denial fear clawing at your stomach grief anger denial refusing truth it is true oh dear god weight sadness heavy in my chest death forever abandoning alone grief denial truth please no no nonoNO-- Aeve'h pulled me back gently. The emotions withdrew like a storm blowing away. His mind was calm and careful, warm to us.

The ShinaAki poets sang, that same emotion allowed to add quaver to their voices. Ridiculous. Consider, reasonably. Grieving is unnecessary. But Seor clung to my sleeve, and I did not chastise him.

though the stars fall / white fire of world ending
do not weep for the dead / they sleep softly forever
but weep for the living / for their Life falls silent


Space was terrible but beautiful then. For the first time I felt so cold, cold as though the ice of our dying land had frozen itself inside me that I and my people might not forget. We are the Aze'm, and we do not forget. Stars have long been our reasonable guides, predictable, scientific and mathematic with their secrets laid bare with logic. Mana'h could have provided the logic, but aeve'h stood solid as the logic would have been, and I allowed myself simply to observe. Space was deep and its stars streamed before my tired eyes. Silly. Just an illusion, there was no reason to think they are beautiful.

The sickness followed. Seor was so small it seemed he must catch it, or perhaps even myself, and those of young age who catch the sickness die. Statistics demonstrated this. Yet it was not my younger sibling or even myself that felt the sickness but, unusually, our aeve'h. His eyes were smooth and deep like mana'h's had been, and I knew. He wove his fingers through ours and smiled gently and said, "Sh'ae kln'ti uoun. Dou e n'hesghe, mndirai tou. Sovekhe e mr'n." You may grieve. And yet life continues, my dear ones. Be well and be wise.

But space looks different without his solid presence, without her solid reason.

Space looks deep, still, but without beauty or terror: with only emptiness. The numbers and facts stream through my mind. d = R / t(x) where R = wc and c = 2.988 x 10^8 m/s. 1 AU = 1.960 x 1011 m = 5 YY. Intersystem travel R = wc and w = 3. Therefore current calculated d = home is far away + its distance increases continually.

We are so far away from where the dying planet languishes, so far from our star. Much has been lost irretrievably. Our history and culture has been recorded, although records do not have the capacity to replace the collective intellect and experience of 67.4 % of the species. An estimated additional 13.9% have died: as yet our data is insufficient to calculate the full affect the illness has had. (My reason is not solid or comforting like mana'h's.)

Our star will no more be seen in the sky by the peoples of our sister planets. The four occupied planets in our system have been evacuated, and our star is dying. Current observations seem to indicate a supernova of unprecedented size will occur in the next decade. The interplanetary bacteria has not yet been contained, and our system is to be quarantined, while its peoples are evacuated...without mana'h and aeve'h I cannot maintain complete objectivity. We fly. Space looks empty.

yes lives falls silent / dearest child raise your eyes
for better to see with joy / breathe not fearing, dearest
than despair to the ground / for ground falls away beneath


The first time when space was still beautiful we were leaving our home. Now we are leaving our last refuge. This intergalactic shuttle is crowded like the first, but not so crowded that my parents would be left behind for want of room alone. Other families of other races huddle. Like us, the other Aze'm stay a little apart from the rest. I recognize none of the faces and very few of the minds.

How unusual for my race. Rarely are so many of us so physically close, but instead of the thrumming web of united minds, the adults rein in their thoughts and hide away those of their children. Aeve'h used to do the same with us when the storms raged in deep winter, cocooning us securely in his calm thoughts. I know better this time than to reach out into the sea of emotions without aeve'h to remind me to pull back.

Families congregate, and then so do Houses. Aeve'h was the last adult male of our House, if my memory is correct. I am aware of no other members of our House on this shuttle, or the previous two, though it is plausible that my observations were careless. On the other hand, the majority of our House resided in the northeast Evshkn, one of the areas which was most severely affected and therefore most strictly quarantined. The status of those within the quarantine area cannot be recorded at the present time. Without additional data, it seems most probable that the majority of our House will have died by the time the quarantine is lifted.

Quarantine. Ks’mskkaik, [symbols]. Universal Standard definition, first of three, summarized: enforced isolation of all living organisms that may have been exposed to or carry a contagious or infectious illness of some form. Includes bacteria, viruses, and any unknown forms of apparent illness. Quarantine. When will the quarantine be lifted? Will it ever be lifted? Considering the extensiveness of the evacuation, it can be deduced that scientists estimate the quarantine will at the very least be extremely long. The length is likely to be such that no members may return for more than a period of several years before the four sister planets are consumed by the supernova.

One of the ShinaAki is explaining this to its offspring not far from where we stand. The youngest of them is highly distressed and appears not to understand the causes of the evacuation and quarantine. Why can we not go home, she is repeating. The others of their family are singing quietly, sitting close to each other. Several pairs of Gnenga sit close, heads together, foreheads touching, bare fingers intertwined. Such contact in public would be considered nearly vulgar by my people, but there is no privacy for refugees. I did not fully comprehend this when mana'h first told it to me, but I begin to recognize the truth in her statement. Still, I draw Seor's eyes away from them with a small touch to his shoulder.

Seor is taller than when he clung to my sleeve upon the first shuttle, but not much. It has been a mere two months according to the calendar of our planet. He has not eaten well, which is foolish considering his young age and especially when he has grown measurably in the last few weeks. He shivers lightly when I touch his shoulder to turn him more towards me. His face looks thinner, and his eyes are dark. Like space, his eyes are empty now.

I shove down a sudden wave of grief, swallowing it and hiding it from my own eyes, wondering if my dark eyes are just as empty. I can manage. I am nearly an adult by our standards, well trained to deal with the hardships that must come in our work (though I will likely never face them now). But not Seor.

Seor is young, so young. His body is more delicate, and so is his mind. He cannot draw back in himself so well as I can, and he must feel the telepathic isolation more acutely than I. I cannot protect myself so well as I would like in the midst of foreign minds without the familiar web. It is realistically to be expected that he can currently give himself little or no protection. The obvious emotions of ShinaAki and Gnenga must be washing over him. I do not want to let him drown, but I do not know how to protect him without touching his skin, or without losing myself.

Touching his skin would not be noticed by most, but it would nevertheless be seen. Aze'm never touch each other’s bare skin, not even a brush of fingertip on fingertip, not in the presence of any outside the private household. Loss of dignity seems a small price, except that dignity is nearly the only remaining piece of our everyday lives. We must not lose that last thing, says every fragment of my training. We must not.

underfoot, no more the ice / ice no more reflects Star
Star scream and silent / your unlucky children scatter
unwilling yet to yield / life for birth; trust they no more

Reason, seek reason. This is not the kind of situation for which I have trained. I am Aze'm, trained to think calmly in the midst of blinding snowstorms where the temperature drops a minimum 50 degrees (standard) below our body temperature, and that, statistically, is a mild drop in temperature for the outer ranges which we commonly travel. I am taught to reach for other individual minds from a distance of approximately 600 km. Silence is not unusual, nor isolation, hence this training. I am quite a bit less than 600 km from the nearest telepathic individual. Thoughts of other races surge incessantly. I should not feel lonely. That is illogical.

My focus is continually drawn back to Seor. He is too young for this, I continually think. Perhaps we are all too young for this. I imagine the outer ranges where I trained, which under normal circumstances appear desolate only to the untrained eye. Shortly before the evacuation, the illusion desolation was not an illusion. Death clung to our lands. I remember one traveler who had come far over those ranges. He was experienced and wise and familiar to us. We respected him, and strength and solidarity was to be expected of him. Yet tears openly fell down his cheeks.

Weeping is not like me. I will not cry, especially not in this place. I refuse. Can Seor refuse? I cannot keep from looking at him. It is as though a stronger force than my own mind directs me. Seor is so small! Yes, obviously. He is a child, and children of his age in our race are small. This is not new information. And yet I never noticed it to this degree of awareness until this moment.

Weeping is not like Seor, but can he stop himself? His eyes are different, like space. The familiar has been swept away by strangeness, like summer wind that only Once melted the snow of our land. Things of this magnitude are legendary to a literal degree. The ShinaAki continually sing their grieving songs and add to them, using inaccurate and figurative language. Their weeping cannot contribute anything. Why should we feel like crying if it accomplishes nothing? I must not cry.

I want mother, where is mother? Father, please! Where is mother? A child asks sudden questions quietly in the corner. He is not Aze'm and is younger than Seor, but I see the same youth in that child's face. So young, so young. I already know this. Why does my mind keep returning to the fact?

ah we are breaking! / our hearts pass into darkness
see the four sisters still / their spinning ended without us
heart of Life dies before us / how can we live on?


Consider, be reasonable. Dignity is all we have. After losing everything else, it is not reasonable to throw away the only remaining tangible piece of our heritage: our behavior. I cannot deny reason. I must not. Seor's eyes are so empty. His eyes are nearly unfocused. I almost know that look, the look of someone focusing inward. But his eyes are blank, as though there is nothing he can find inside which he recognizes. If one sees nothing, is one blind, or might there be nothing to see?

Be not blind, the elders once advised me. How is being blind like drowning? A drowning mind becomes blind to the outside world. Beware, youth, for you may loose yourself in the flood of other minds. Lost, drowning, blind, blank eyes.

Dignity is all we have. However, "we" is a general term that holds little significance when one no longer knows any other living beings to which that term applies. I do not care to calculate the probability that all those I know are dead.

Seor is all I have.

I do not care about dignity. Let the others of my race keep it. I will not leave him. I take a steadying breath and dive from my safe place into the tempest of thoughts.

wall of grief. cold gasping wave sadness beyond words heavy numb heavy on your heart dark screaming silently people denial failed truth no please no dying thousands thousands oh god oh god they died howled their minds. I almost gasped aloud.

so many people our home of homes only ever dark grief empty heart hole black est day of our races running fast but still it follows never escape death despair grief homeless refugee star dying death disease took them away never see you again never ever grief tears cry why why oh god why dis belief grief be yond w o r d s

Mndire. There he grief grief drowning is stay silent no words emotion leave it Seor behind mother where is mother father sister brother Seor alone lonely where the children home lost weep if the tears will come Seor, Seor does not answer is all I have. I reach out my hand.

cool skin wonder warm touch my hands cold alone no longer where am you who are I am Seor come back and I pull his thoughts out of the ocean and up into mine.

His back is to my chest and my arm holds his body to me, and his skin is cool and he feels fragile. His mind quivers like a pup brought in from the wind. I fold my fingers around his and so fold my mind around his. We are warm. There is only us. I hear and feel the storm, but storms stay outside. The storm and any disapproval it might hold are unimportant. We are safe.

shivering subsides tears grief so lonely you are not alone my brother. mndire my sister relief my brother mndire together stay with me T'mnai'o I will am here never leave promise cry tears subside together relief love you so much. Our thoughts mingle and I begin to see hope.

ask how can we live? / love and memory Live
and though the stars fall / white fire of world ending
do not weep for the dead / but rejoice with the living


Space looks different, I admit. acknowledgment laughter almost tears agreement At least deep space is unaltered pure unseen beautiful mana'h's favorite many things change in space surprises beautiful mysterious beautiful he replies.

Imprecise adjectives reluctant correct him just for show admit agreement space stars star dust admit truth planet comet stars deep mystery mana'h's favorite okay fine, and again his affectionate laughter tears.

T'mnai'o sister elder mndire thank you we have each other love you so much.

Space is beautiful.
illogical but Yes, it is.
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