uplift4.brightnessreef-第45部分

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　　Mister　Shed　had　no　genetic　investment　in　the　young　qheuens　transforming　next　door；　but　anxiety　wrote　across　the　instructor's　gaunt　face。
　　〃Yes；　a　fine　clutch。　Several　will　make　excellent　senior　students；　when　their　shells　harden　and　they　take　names。〃
　　Carving　Tongue　added…〃Two　are　already　precocious　chewers　of　wood…though　I　believe　our　tutor　refers　to　other　talents。〃
　　Mister　Shed　nodded。　〃There　is　a　school　downslope；　where　local　tribes　send　their　brightest　kids。　Elmira　should　qualify；　if　she　makes　it　through…〃
　　The　matriarch　erupted　a　warning　hiss。　〃Tutor！　Keep　your　private　nicknames　to　yourself。　Do　not　jinx　the　larvae　on　this　sacred　day！〃
　　Mister　Shed　swallowed　nervously。　〃Sorry；　matron。〃　He　rocked　side　to　side；　in　the　manner　of　a　qheuen　boy；　caught　stealing　a　crayfish　from　the　hatchery　ponds。
　　Fortunately；　a　traeki　caterer　arrived　then　with　a　cauldron　of　vel　nectar。　Humans　and　qheuens　crowded　the　table。　But　Dwer　saw　that　Ozawa　felt　as　he　did。　Neither　of　them　had　time　for　a　euphoric　high。　Not　while　preparing　for　a　deadly　serious　mission。
　　Too　bad；　though；　Dwer　thought；　noting　how　the　traeki　spiked　each　goblet　with　a　race…specific　spray　from　its　chem…synth　ring。　Soon　the　mood　in　the　chamber　lightened　as　intoxicants　flowed。　Carving　Tongue　joined　the　throng　at　the　cauldron；　leaving　the　three　humans　alone　by　the　window。
　　〃That's　it；　my　beauties。　Do　it　gently；〃　murmured　the　scholar　contracted　to　teach　qheuen　children　reading　and　math…a　long　patient　task；　given　the　decades　larvae　spent　in　one　muddy　suite；　devouring　wrigglers　and　slowly　absorbing　the　mental　habits　of　sapient　beings。　To　Dwer's　surprise；　Mister　Shed　slipped　a　functioning　rewq　over　his　face。　Lately；　most　of　the　symbionts　had　gone　dormant；　or　even　died。
　　Dwer　peered　through　the　window；　a　rippled　convex　lens　with　a　broken　stem　in　the　middle。　A　greasy　pool　filled　the　center　of　the　next　room；　which　dim　shapes　traversed；　casting　left　and　right　as　if　in　nervous　search。
　　Those　may　have　been　Mister　Shed's　beloved　pupils　a　few　days　ago；　and　some　would　be　again；　after　molting　into　adolescent　qheuens。　But　this　play　hearkened　back　millions　of　years；　to　a　time　long　before　the　patrons　of　the　qheuen　race　meddled　and　reshaped　them　into　starfarers。　It　had　a　bloody　logic　all　its　own。
　　〃That's　right；　children；　do　it　softly…〃
　　Shed's　hopeful　sigh　cut　off　with　a　yelp　as　the　pond　erupted　in　froth。　Wormlike　forms　flipped　out　of　the　water　in　a　thrashing　tangle。　Dwer　glimpsed　one　shape　that　was　already　nearly　five…sided；　with　three　legs　flailing　under　a　glistening　carapace　of　aquamarine。　The　new　shell　bore　livid　marks　of　recent　raking。　Trailing　were　tatters　of　white　tissue；　the　larval　body　mass　that　must　be　sloughed。
　　Legend　said　that　qheuens　who　still　roamed　the　stars　had　ways　to　ease　this　transition…machines　and　artificial　environments…but　on　Jijo；　molting　was　much　the　same　as　when　qheuens　were　clever　animals；　hunting　the　shallows　of　the　world　that　gave　them　birth。
　　Dwer　recalled　running　home　in　tears；　the　first　time　he　saw　a　molting；　seeking　fort　and　understanding　from　his　older　brother。　Even　then；　Lark　had　been　serious；　learned；　and　a　bit　pedantic。
　　〃Sapient　races　have　many　reproductive　styles。　Some　focus　all　their　effort　on　a　few　offspring；　which　are　cherished　from　the　start。　Any　good　parent　will　die　to　save　her　child。　Hoons　and　g'Keks　are　like　humans　in　this　so…called　High…K　approach。
　　〃Urs　breed　much　like　fish　in　the　sea…that's　Low…K…casting　hordes　of　offspring　to　live　wild　in　the　bush；　until　the　survivors　sniff　their　way　back　to　blood　relatives。　Early　human　settlers　thought　the　urrish　way　heartless；　while　many　urs　saw　our　custom　as　paranoid　and　maudlin。
　　〃Qheuens　fall　in　between。　They　care　about　their　young　but　also　know　that　many　in　each　clutch　must　die；　so　that　others　can　live。　It's　a　sadness　that　lends　poignancy　to　qheuen　poetry。　Truly；　I　think　the　wisest　of　them　have　a　better　grasp　of　life　and　death　than　any　human　ever　could。〃
　　Sometimes　Lark　got　carried　away。　Still；　Dwer　saw　truth　in　what　his　brother　said。　Soon　a　new　generation　would　shamble　out　of　the　humid　nursery；　to　a　world　that　would　dry　their　shells　and　make　them　citizens。　Or　else　no　survivors　would　emerge　at　all。　Either　way；　the　bitter…sweetness　was　so　intense；　anyone　wearing　rewq；　like　Mister　Shed；　must　be　crazy　or　a　masochist。
　　He　felt　a　touch　on　his　arm。　Danel　motioned…time　to　make　a　polite　exit；　before　the　rituals　resumed。　They　had　work；　provisions　and　weapons　to　prepare；　as　well　as　the　Legacy　they　were　to　take　over　the　mountains。
　　This　morning；　Lena　Strong　had　returned　from　the　Glade　with　another　young　woman　Dwer　recognized　with　a　wince…Jenin；　one　of　the　big；　strapping　Worley　sisters…along　with　five　donkey…loads　of　books；　seeds；　and　ominous　sealed　tubes。　He　had　been　expecting　Rety　as　well；　but　Lena　reported　that　the　sages　wanted　to　talk　to　the　sooner　girl　for　a　while　longer。
　　No　matter。　With　or　without　her　as　a　guide；　Dwer　was　ultimately　responsible　for　getting　the　small　expedition　to　its　goal。
　　And　once　there？　Would　there　be　violence？　Death？　Or　a　brave　beginning？
　　Sighing；　Dwer　turned　to　follow　Ozawa。
　　Now　we'll　never　know　if　Sara　would've　turned　out　to　be　right；　or　Lark。　Whether　the　Six　were　bound　on　the　Low　Road；　or　the　High。
　　From　here　on；　it's　all　about　survival。
　　Behind　him；　Mister　Shed　pressed　both　hands　against　the　warped　pane；　his　voice　hoarse　with　anguish　over　small　lives　that　were　not　his　to　adore　or　rightfully　to　mourn。
　　
　　The　Stranger
　　He　wonders　how　he　knows　the　thing　he　knows。　It　used　to　be　so　easy；　back　when　wisdom　came　in　pact　packages　called　words。　Each　one　carried　a　range　of　meanings；　subtly　shaded　and　plex。　Strung　together；　they　conveyed　a　multitude　of　concepts；　plans；　emotions。。。
　　And　lies。
　　He　blinks　as　that　one　word　es　slickly　into　mind；　the　way　so　many　used　to　do。　He　rolls　it　around　his　tongue；　recognizing　both　sound　and　meaning　at　the　same　time；　and　this　brings　on　a　wash　of　joy　mixed　with　awe。　Awe　to　imagine　that　he　once　did　the　same　thing　countless　times　during　the　span　of　any　breath；　knowing　and　using　innumerable　words。
　　He　relishes　this　one；　repeating　it　over　and　over。
　　Lies。。。　lies。。。　lies。。。
　　And　the　miracle　redoubles　as　another；　related　word　slips　in…
　　Liars。。。　liars。。。
　　On　his　lap　he　sees　the　crumpled　sketch；　now　smoothed　almost　flat　again；　a　detailed　rendition　of　human　figures　with　expressive　faces；　staring　disdainfully　past　a　multirace　crowd　of　primitive　beings。　The　newers　wear　uniforms　with　bright　emblems　he　finds　somehow　familiar。
　　He　used　to　know　a　name　for　people　like　this。　A　name…and　reasons　to　avoid　them。
　　So　why　had　he　been　so　eager　to　go　see　them；　just　a　little　while　ago？　Why　so　insistent？　At　the　time　it　seemed　as　if　something　welled　up　from　deep　inside　him。　An　urgency。　A　need　to　travel；　whatever　the　cost；　to　the　far…off　mountain　glen　shown　in　the　drawing。　To　go　confront　those　depicted　on　a　rumpled　sheet　of　off…white　paper。　The　journey　had　seemed　terribly　important；　though　right　now　he　cannot　quite　remember　why。
　　A　cloudy　haze　covers　most　of　his　memory。　Things　that　had　waxed　vivid　during　his　delirium　now　can　barely　be　glimpsed　as　fleeting　images…
　　…like　a　star　that　appears　dwarfed　by　a　surrounding　structure；　a　made…thing　consisting　of　countless　angles　and　divided　ledges；　enclosing　a　reddish　sun's　brittle　heat　within　a　maze　of　plane　surfaces。
　　…or　a　world　of　water；　where　metal　isles　jut　like　mushrooms　and　the　sea　is　a　slow　poison　to　touch。
　　…or　one　particular　shallow　place　in　space；　far　from　the　deep　oases　where　life　normally　gathers。　Nothing　lives　in　that　shoal；　far　beyond　the　shining　spiral　arm。　Yet　amid　the　strange　flatness　there　clusters　a　vast　formation　of　globelike　forms；　strangely　bright；　floating　timelessly；　resembling　a　fleet　of　moons。。。。
　　His　mind　flees　from　that　last　impression；　reburying　it　with　all　the　other　half…real　memories。　Losing　it　along　with　his　past；　and　almost　certainly　his　future。
　　
　　XII。　THE　BOOK　OF　THE　SEA
　　Sapient　beings　are　frequently　tempted
　　to　believe　in　purpose。
　　That　they　exist　in　the　universe
　　for　a　reason。
　　To　serve　something　greater…
　　…a　race　or　clan
　　…patrons　or　gods
　　…or　an　esthetic　aim。
　　Or　else　to　seek　individual　goals…
　　…wealth　and　power；
　　…reproduction；
　　…or　enhancement　of　a　personal　soul。
　　Deep　Philosophers　call　this　search　for　purpose
　　nothing　more　than　vanity；
　　a　frantic　need　to　justify
　　an　inherited　drive　to　exist。
　　But　why　would　our　ancestors
　　have　brought　us　here　so　far　from　race；　clan；
　　patrons；　gods；　or　wealth　or　power；
　　if　not　to　serve　a　purpose　higher　than　all
　　those　things？
　　…The　Scroll　of　Contemplation
　　　
　　Alvin's　Tale
　　I　ALWAYS　THOUGHT　MYSELF　A　CITY　BOY。　AFTER　ALL；　Wuphon　is　the　biggest　port　in　the　south；　with　almost　a　thousand　souls；　if　you　include　nearby　farmers　and　gleaners。　I　grew　up　around　docks；　warehouses；　and　cargo　hoists。
　　Still；　the　Deploying　Derrick　is　really　something。　A　long；　graceful　shape　made　of　hundreds　of　tubes　of　reamed　and　cured　boo；　it　was　pieced　together　in　a　matter　of　days；　crisscrossed　and　joined　by　a　team　of　qheuen　carpenters；　who　listened　politely　each　time　Urdonnol　berated　them　for　straying　from　the　design　illustrated　on　page　five　hundred　and　twelve　of　her　precious　text；　Pre…Contact　Terran　Machinery；　Part　VIII：　Heavy　Lifting　Without　Gravitics。　Then；　with　a　respectful　spin　of　their　cupolas；　the　qheuens　went　back　to　lacing　and　gluing　the　crane　in　their　own　way；　applying　lessons　learned　in　real　life。
　　Urdonnol　should　be　more　flexible；　I　thought；　watching　Uriel's　humorless　assistant　grow　ever　more　frustrated。　True；　the　books　hold　great　wisdom。　But　these　guys　aren't　exactly　working　with　titanium　here。　We're　castaways　who　must　adapt　to　the　times。
　　I　was　glad　to　see　that　our　pal；　Ur…ronn；　seemed　satisfied　with　the　work　so　far；　after　peering　and　sniffing　at　every　brace；　strut；　and　pulley。　Still；　I'd　rather　Uriel　were　here；　supervising　as　she　had　for　the　first　two　days；　when　our　group　set　up　camp　under　the　stark　shadow　of　Terminus　Rock。　The　master　smith　was　a　persnickety；　demanding　taskmistress；　often　insisting　a　job　be　done　over；　an