Author: srh

Short Story

Hanging Glacier

The sun was shining brightly as I set out upon the mountain, the snow sparkling in its own quiet reflection within the trees surrounding me. At my feet, my snow shoes compressed the freshly fallen flakes with each step, crunching and crushing the delicate forms into the impressions of a man sized duck waddling his way up the trailhead. I cinched my pack tighter against my shoulders, feeling the heft of its reassuring weight against my back, as I headed upwards to the hanging glacier far above.

The lake was called a glacier of sorts, even though I was sure it melted every summer into a proper lake. I had never felt the compulsion to find out one way or another, instead falling back on my soft petaled ignorance of the world around me, steeped in its own ages and its own lost history. I called it a glacier, the maps called it a glacier, and my GPS called it a glacier, so the world was right by my estimation.

Each step crunching beneath me, the sound of cereal flakes being crushed winding its way up to my ears, I found myself lost in my own thoughts as I made my slow ascent into the mountains before me. My mind trailed over the options before me… the hunt for a new job, the desire to do something with my life, be a writer, travel the world, find a wife. All the things that a man of my age should think about. At least that was what I thought. I was not too sure. I hadn’t been sure for weeks, really. Months if you wanted me to be truly honest.

So this morning, as I rolled out of my warmth into the cold of another winter day, I knew that I had something to resolve in my life. As to how I was going to do that, and where I would reach that near constantly escaping epiphany was still a mystery to me, but I knew that if I started at a trailhead with my snowshoes on my feet and a lunch in my bag, my chances were better than staying at home, wallowing in my own depression.

Depression is a silly thing, really.

You are told that it is a minor inconvenience, a thing to control and subdue, another obstacle to a life that seems ever out of reach. Then it crashes down on you, an avalanche of self loathing, of a darkness that wraps its arms around you and squeezes until you can’t even cry about it. You just sit. Feeling unanchored, untethered, disconnected from everything in the universe, except the ugly part of your own mind. Feeling that acute obstruction turn into a wall, the wall turns into a prison, and the prison turn into a monster sitting on your chest, laughing at your stupidity.

And you realize that it is all silly, and the cycle starts all over again. Worse this time. And worse again after that.

That is when you realize that depression is crippling. Like losing a limb, a ghost of memories tickle your mind, telling you that something better used to be there, but it is gone now, and you don’t have a choice in the matter. It still feels. It still desires to be moved, and fingers made to wiggle, skin longing for touch, but none of that will ever happen because where that limb should be, there is only an empty place.

But this mountain will help me. This trail will show me the way, and my feet will take me to the glacier where I can start to figure things out for once in my life. And if I don’t, at least the hike will wear me out enough that I will be able to sleep tonight without taking all the meds that my fleet of highly paid guesswork artists that style themselves as doctors have instructed me to take.

The mountain was bright, the sun unleashing it’s fires down on my shoulders, lighting the reflections of the chrome frames of my snowshoes violently to the underside of the pines that held their boughy hands, arm in arm, down the sides of the trail before and behind me. They watch me progress, silent in their reverie of their own place, and whisper to one another when the wind touches their heads, giving them mouths, giving them breath, providing them the permission to tell each other how they feel. Trees are simple things, and they know their place. They are rooted in it, as they live and die. My place is nowhere and ambulatory, forever moving just slightly beyond my grasp, at the periphery of my understanding.

I want a thunderclap. I need the flash of lightning. I want my future to be made known to me immediately, painfully if need be. If God himself where to descend from his throne and corner me on the trail, explaining to me what I should do with my life, I would take the blindness gratefully. I crave purpose.

My pastor would tell me that God is my purpose. That serving the glory of heaven and bringing others to Christ is the goal. When I was a teenager, I felt the drive to be an instrument of God. It was a fire in my heart, a passion that fired me up. But as I have aged, I have learned that this world is far harsher than an ideal teenager would ever imagine. I have yet to see God give me a job, or a girlfriend, or a path… at least in any way that I could fathom.

I am alone. There is nothing standing by me, holding my hand, or telling me which way to go. Just my depression monster riding on my back like a goddamn fucking monkey.

I crested the edge of the sunken lake, the sides of the lake tumbling downwards, the frozen earth covered in feet of snow. It is mid-winter, and the heaviest snow has yet to arrive. When spring starts to think about showing up, the mountain prays for more snow to stave off the ever marching approach of summer, and the skies grant such wishes with aplomb. These trees will be buried up to their middle trunks, and the lake will become a field of white, with no proof a body of water is hidden underneath. I have always thought this could be the home of winter, if the season was personified as a deity of some sort, nestled deep in the frozen water, to emerge in a crystalline form at night to wander the forest like a yeti appreciating his surroundings. I step carefully among the buried boulders, my bulky boots twisting gently in the harnesses that connect me to my transport. I sat heavily on a partially exposed rock, freeing my backpack to eat my snack, drink my water, and commune with a part of myself that I needed to bring to the forefront.

My mother would tell me that the best parts of myself are always hidden. Secreted away in the darkest, deepest chambers of my heart, protected from horrors of the world around me. I would call her a liar, but now, I know she was right. I am a complex being, filled with history, memories, feelings, and dreams, and they merge and tumble, mix and agitate each other to become what I consider myself to be me. I am by all accounts, something human. And I hope that deep inside of myself, there is a secret me. A happy me. A positive emulation of what I should be everyday. A doppelganger of myself, ready to spring forth from a closet connected to Narnia, like my own personal Mr. Tumnus. He will look at me in shock, and say “Where, oh where, have you been?”, and I will reply, “how the fuck would I know, I have been buried in sadness the color of shit!”

My sandwich is good. The peanut butter is crunchy, the bread is soothing, and they jelly is tart. Maybe I should have been a chef. A chef of PB&Js and nothing else. Maybe I should have been a trail guide, showing people the secret places in this forest, sharing with them the awe of creation. Perhaps I should have been a mountaineer, climbing for its own sake, just me, my backpack, and the sky. I could be all those things, but a part of me knows I won’t. Still I could do with the better version of me to make an appearance today.

The crunch crunch crunch of someone walking my way swims its way through the trees, and I turn my head to gauge the approach, looking for the flashes of dark or color of a ski jacket through the trees, anything that would betray the location of the unknowing participant in my deep self reflection.

“Beautiful day!” A voice calls out from the trees.

“The best!” I lie.

“That was a lie!” The voice retorts rapid fire.

“I am working through issues!” I yell back.

“I liked the lie better!” The breathless voice calls back with an edge of humor.

The source of the voice crests the edge of the embankment, and smiles down at me. She is a brunette, wrapped in black ski pants and a purple jacket, a blue backpack slung against her back. Her smile is as brilliant as her mirrored sunglasses, and I almost have to squint to survive the glare.

“You don’t look like you are working through issues,” she laughed. “What kind of issues could you possibly have? You are in a beautiful place surrounded by an awesome day, and what? You eating a peanut butter sandwich? Everything is great!”

“Are you telling me that you are jealous of my sandwich?” I tease.

“Lauren,” she grins.

“Why are you telling me your name?” I frowned clownishly.

“So you are more inclined to share your sandwich.”

“You say that to all the boys you encounter on the trail?”

“Only the ones with oversized, delicious looking, properly lavished peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. So this is the first, if you really must know. Lauren.” Lauren said as she pulled a glove off and walked towards me with her hand extended. “Mind if I share your warm looking rock?”

“So you are stealing my sandwich and my rock? Now I have two new issues.”

“Cry-baby. You depressed or something?”

I handed half of my sandwich to Lauren and answered honestly. “Yes.”

“I was depressed once.”

“Oh yeah?” I took a bite of the sandwich I had left.

“Yeah, but then I dumped the asshole and moved on.” Lauren grinned again.

“Wish I could do the same.”

Lauren sat there for a minute and chewed a few bites down, taking a drink from her water bottle in turns.

“Depression sucks. Seriously. It sucks.” Lauren said.

“Yeah, it has its moments. Sorry you had to stumble on a sad sack.”

“Eh, I got a free sandwich. Win in my book,” Lauren laughed. Her laugh was nearly magical. It tinkled and rang, bouncing around the enclosed lake side like a rubber ball in a small room. “My dad told me once that this lake was built on memories.”

“Yeah?” I replied.

“Yeah. The lake is the things you remember today, the glacier behind it is the things you will remember later. It drips and melts, filling the lake all summer. If you just yell your problems at it, the glacier will soak up all your memories and save them for later.”

“Does it work?”

“I think it does. Yes. It does.” Lauren laughed again. “Try it, slowmo. You might feel better.”

“Just yell at it?”

“Sure. I’ve done it.”

“You?” I raised an eyebrow.

“More than once,” she smiled. She was beautiful in every way I could possibly imagine. A primal part of my brain finally kicked on and I felt the flush as my face turned red.

I stood up and looked at the ice wall across the lake. It was a deep blue, crowned in white, appearing to hover above the surface of the lake below it. I guess I never thought about it, but that is probably why it was called the Hanging Glacier.

“Go on.” I felt a poke in my back.

“I HATE…” I stopped, feeling more foolish than ever. But I knew I had to do this. Why here and why now and why with a girl I had just met, but I knew it was inevitable. “I HATE THE WAY MY JOB MAKES ME FEEL.”

“I HATE THE WAY COOKIES GO STALE!” Lauren yelled in response.

Emboldened, I continued. “I HATE MY FAMILY. THEY ARE ALL ASSHOLES.”

“I HATE GRAPE SODA.” Lauren yelled next.

“I HATE HOW I FEEL WHEN I REMEMBER FUCK UPS.”

“I HATE COLD PASTA.”

I felt something break in me.

“I HATE HOW I FEEL GUILTY THAT MY BROTHER IS DEAD. I HATE HOW I FEEL SAD THAT HE FUCKED UP. I hate how I feel so angry all the time about something out of my control. I hate that I am glad that I am still alive. I hate how he was selfish in his final act. I hate my mom for trying to fix everything… I hate my dad for finding excuses to work,” I felt tears track down my cheeks, the cold made them feel like ice chips running down my face. “I HATE FEELING HELPLESS all the time. I hate being sad, and lonely, and that no one will ever love me for me. I HATE THAT I am so wrapped up in myself, I miss friends and activities, and I FUCKING LIE ABOUT IT.”

“I HATE CABBAGE.” Lauren yelled as if I had said nothing at all.

I stood there, my hands clenched at my sides, feeling the anguish and anger and sadness and grief and fear being set alight as I cried as silently as I could. My shoulders heaved up and down, turning my hitched breathing into wracking sobs, tsunamis of emotion pushing against me physically, seeking out all the corners of myself. I was exposed. Afraid and alone.

“I HATE HOW I HATE SPECIFIC FOOD STUFFS.” Lauren continued without me.

I felt a laugh bubble up and break out through my sloppy wet tears. It turned into a deep laugh, shaking my frame, and it was a balm on the ragged injury of all my pain being vomited at loud volume at the Hanging Glacier. I won’t say I was healed, but I felt almost human again. Normality was closer than I had felt in years. It was amazing. Freeing. Liberating.

I had never been in a war. I had never seen the enemy flee my city as a liberation force crested the edge of the city in their tanks and their planes, and soldiers marched forward with chocolate and candy for the filthy, bedraggled children with soot on their faces and ears that would never hear again. I had never seen anything like that, but for a split moment, I believed I knew how it felt.

I turned to thank the snarky angel that had inadvertently become my therapist. “Lauren, that was…”

Lauren was gone. In fact, there were no prints in the snow, no crumbs at the rock, nothing. Only my tracks, and half a sandwich of mine, still uneaten sitting on top of my bag.

“Lauren?” I called hesitantly. Nothing called back. There was no sound except the trees, the wind, and the occasional bird call far off in the distance.

So this is what a psychotic break is. I rubbed my temples, feeling my cold fingers press hard at the soft parts of my skull, the throbbing reminding me that my heart still beat on and that I still had to hike down. I gathered my bag, carefully pushing my sandwich back into it, threw it over my shoulders and started back towards the trail.

“Michael?” A familiar voice called out behind me.

I turned to find Lauren, dressed in different clothes, wearing a different backpack, looking at me incredulously.

“Lauren?” I said confused.

“You disappeared. Where did you go? How are you wearing a different outfit?” Lauren rambled. She was as beautiful as she had been a moment ago.

“No… you disappeared. You are definitely wearing different clothes too,” I said.

“I… was crying. I was yelling at the glacier. You told me to. You even poked me in the back. I gave you a granola bar and everything.”

“Huh. I did… you did… the same for me.”

We both stood there in silence looking at each other, millions of things unsaid tumbling in the air between us. Moments of something shared, however strange they were, still existed. Lauren knew it. I knew it.

I winked at her and smiled.

She smiled back.  And it was radiant.

Short Story

The Visitor in Shadows

“Names are powerful things,” the old man said thoughtfully in the silence that followed. Sitting with his legs crossed, his back against the massive tree that shaded him and his dimunitive guest.

“How so?” The young one replied, not offering the name he had been asked for a moment before.

“Names are everything. They hold power over the individual. I use your name and you will react. You will react against your will, as your attention will be taken. They hold power over groups just as well. Use someone else’s name in a certain way, and you can sway entire groups to your line of thinking.”

“But it is just a word,” the young one scoffed. “A spoken word is nothing but air.”

“That is not true,” the old teacher sighed. “Words can harm as well as heal. Words are what binds us to one another, words create connection between individuals, they create relationships, they create societies. Words can be used to destroy the very same things. Words are ideas being shared. Names are the most focused locus of an idea that exists. Your name, for example, is how you define yourself. It is in your core of self.”

“But I can call myself anything.”

“You strain my patience, young one.”

“I can! I can call myself any name I wish. If I introduce myself with a new name enough times, that becomes my name. Criminals do it. Anyone can, if they wish.”

“That is not true. Now you are attempting to redefine a name as a label. A person cannot change their name any more than we can stop a tree from a being a tree. You could call it a bush, but everyone that saw its true nature would know it is still a tree. You could call it anything you want, but that would not change what it is.”

“I am not so sure,” the young one said. “I mean… I could… what if you could change your name?”

“Like truly change it?” The old man looked horrified.

“Yes.”

“It would change your fundamental self in every way. It would change who you are in a way that the mind would not readily accept. You would have to fight for the change, make it a discipline. Because changing your name would subvert all your memories, and all your chains of self. It would be like going through your entire past self and self-editing everything that references your name.”

“You would be a different person.”

“I see it in your eyes, young child. You wish such a thing.” The old man was awed.

“I… uh… yes.” The child looked down and the old man could see the shiver of anticipation, against the balance of waiting, coupled with the unbridled desire to change. “I do not like what I am.”

“Very few do. It is the purpose of life to redefine yourself to what you feel you should be.”

The young one started to weep silently, the tears slowly tracking down cheeks red. “I cannot change myself slowly. It has to be…”

“To change slowly is a metamorphosis, the change ultimately and totally would be a crucible,” the old man said, attempting to dissuade the young one.

“I will always be an abomination,” the young one said. “To change by such a fire would be a blessing.”

“Posh. You are a young child with much to learn. Every person, every creature, has its place. Even you.”

“I do not wish it.”

“I do not wish to be at the end of my years, but I am here. You have to accept it.”

“I do not wish it,” the young repeated adamantly.

The old man sat in silence, and studiously considered the face of the young child seated at his feet. He had never witnessed someone so young so focused on the awareness of self. This was unprecedented.

“Can I ask you what you wish to be?”

“What I am without the pain.”

“You wish to be without pain?” The old man asked.

“As you said, I am just a name. A word. A thing. I can change myself into something… else.”

“To change, yourself, is to twist everything you are. You could die. In fact, death may be certain. You speak of suicide.”

“I did not ask for this.”

“A child is not asked to be born,” the old man replied.

“I… must.” The young one said, his red eyes burning in the shadows of his face.

“The road will be dangerous. I cannot… guarantee your safety.”

“I do not ask for safety. I came to you for help.”

The old man leaned back against his tree, and listened to the birds in far off branches sing their song to the early evening. The mountain on which the two sat faced the setting sun, and the light of orange and red set everything around them alight.

The old man sighed heavily. “No one can explain why pain comes to exist in greater quantities for some more than others. Your pain exists for a reason that I do not understand, yet you sit before me, asking me for something that no one has ever asked of me. I must think on this.”

“How long must you think on this?” The child replied with a measure of hope in his voice.

“I do not know. In the meantime, you can be my helper. Tell me your name, young one.”

“My name is Enon.”

“Enon. A good name. This is what is bound in you, tied up around your consciousness, and in all ways defines you.”

“Such a strange thing,” Enon paused. “I do not feel bound by it. I do not feel like if I were change my name to Enos, it would fundamentally change who I am.”

“It would not. Enon is just a representation of your being to the outside world. Its not the name that changes, young one. It is you. You would change.”

“How can I change? This pain, it eats me. In consumes me in every way. It is in my skin, in my bones, and in every part of me. I feel this rage wrapped up in it. A red fire of insurmountable flame coming down on me in all ways. Everywhere I look I see the pain. I see memories made real. It is…”

“It is temporary. Magic is not. What you seek to do is not temporary.”

“My pain is not temporary.”

“It is not?” The old man squinted tightly as he looked the young one over at length. The child sat sobbing at his feet. Reaching outwards, the old man pulled on the spirit well residing deep in the tree behind him. He sighed heavily and spoke. “Alvarius Dar Fen.”

The child’s head slumped forward, and his body rose from the ground slowly. The spell left him laying in repose, floating in front of the old man and the mighty tree behind him.

“He is broken, Niver.” A voice whispered in from the air around the old man.

Niver shook his head slowly. “He may be broken, but we will help him rebuild his mind and his spirit. Did you see it when you touched him?”

“The spirit within him is deep,” the tree replied.

“The spirit within him is very deep. He might rival you, my old friend.”

“I was born at the beginning of time, I have had time to grow since.”

“My point exactly. Enon here has been torn apart by his circumstance. He may have lost everything he has ever known, but we can help him grow in turn. He is only a child, a baby in comparison to you. Imagine if he were to grow with you to guide him?”

“As you were?” The whisper asked.

“Yes.”

“He could be a protector to rival the guardians of old, maybe. He could be like a meteor from the heavens above and flare briefly to only be extinguished.”

“With us to guide him, he could have a chance to heal.” The old man looked upwards at the leaves far above, dappling him and his young visitor in shadows and light, dancing in the interplay of the wind in the boughs far above.

“He will want to change his name.”

“We have to show him that he does not need to,” the old man replied tersely.

“He will persist.”

“He will fail,” the old man sighed. “Becuase he will have the mountain and the tree to be his footing and his hand hold. He will have the protection from the wind and storm, and the deep waters far below to nourish him. He will learn the first names of the world and the things that make it up. He will find wells of power and the resonance to sing their songs. He will be… Enon.”

The old man said the name in the pattern of the boy before him, and Enon’s form resonated in its place, floating in the air, appearing to be shaking violently when in reality he was perfectly still. A nimbus of an outline wrapped around him, delinating him from the world around him. Speaking his true name, the old man knew he had to share his own. At some point.

He was Niver, the Man of the Mountain, the Visitor in Shadows.

Short Story

The Needle

The soft lament of the guitar climbs its way through the eddies and pools of the air around me, as a gentle touch of a piano is added in counterpoint, both slowly rising to meet each other like butterflies mating in fluttering dance. The smoky voice of an old man starts to sing.

“I hurt myself today…”

I know this song. I know it in my core. In ways that others may think they know it, but they don’t. It is mine, and I am it. I am the song, it purloins my emotions, snatches the very thoughts from my mind, and bestills my actions before a breath can be taken or a muscle encouraged to move.

“To see if I still feel…”

The voice carries me, like a father holding his son in his arms, striding up a dark set of stairs to a welcome bed that the child dreamt of in his car ride. It wraps me in its arms, and I feel the infinity of the instant unfold around me in tight paper folds of complex origami coming undone, falling over its edges, unfurling, curling, in blossom like a flower opening to the sun.

I am undone.

******

The plain around me is unfettered with the necessary implements of farm and field. Yet I stand among tall wheat, the rough grasses bending heavily in the wind, the sursurrus of their stalks rubbing together like cricket legs. I look afar for the red barn or the great mechanical threshers, but they are missing here. There are no fences, no roads, no barriers of man standing between me and an infinity of wheat. I am alone in this moment, the sky above dark, the remnants of a song still unwinding its way to the greatest reaches of the upper atmosphere.

They are lost to me now, but I still know of them, like a secret in my heart or a treasure in the bookcase, they are mine by virtues of being there.

I know this place. I was a child here, long ago. It was in Nebraska. Sutton, a small town, nothing really. Just a place near a place that I happened to live. On a farm, where my father lived and died, and my mother lamented the life of a farmer’s wife, and my brother decided to take his own life in the barn. The place where I found that life is not easy, and it has to be taken in order to be. A place where the chickens clucked among the grasses, and the pair of goats would eat anything they left behind. This place was mine.

I stood here, on this minor hill among wheat, and I would look towards the barn, which would be over there, right there. But it is missing. The barn would be there. The house would be just out of sight that way, closer to the pond. The barn was a massive thing, many men high, and would tower as only a barn could when a grain silo or elevator was not nearby. It was a landmark here on the farm, and I could always find my way home in the wheat by glimpsing the flash of red and white far off, a promise of where my home was, and where it would always be.

Until it wasn’t.

******

“I focus on the pain…”

The song calls out to me again. That voice. I know that voice.

But I am somewhere else now. I am in Buick, a sticky night outside, the inside of the windows steamed up from Elsie and I talking, and kissing, and exploring things that only teenagers can explore for the first time with each other. Giggling, followed by heavy breathing, by promises that can be broken in a week or a day, followed by the clutching together in desperate solace from the terrors of a world around us. A song plays on the radio, some number easily forgettable by a band that no one will ever remember, even in memory, it will be nothing but a hook and a simple lyric left behind. The song is like a plastic shovel left behind in a sand box, all sad and forlorn, its handle crooked and beat upon by the sun, forced into the labor of a sundial against its will. The song is a toy in a sandbox, only remembered because of where it is and what it is used for. Remembering a night in a sweaty embrace.

Elsie would move to Ohio. She went to a University. She married a man named Tom. I was not invited to the wedding. My mother was though. So that was nice.

“The only thing that’s real…”

I snap back to the car, watching Elsie in her brilliant youth, her skin lit and eyes inflamed, the fingernails on my shoulders, her teeth at my ear. I see it as if I was outside of it, observing it scientifically and pretending that the thing inside me was fake, a sham, a fakery of emotion that I was building involuntarily because my dick was getting wrung.

I don’t know. I always thought I was a robot. I was immune from the emotion. The life that I experienced kept trying to show me otherwise. My life, time and time again, would raise itself against me, crash against me like a wave of too cold water, and remind me saltily that I was only a human after all. I cried when she broke up with me. For days, I cried, amazed internally that a girl could illicit such a response in me. Again, I stood outside myself, watching my grief unspool from me. I was overwound in the sadness and anger.

I lashed out. Something broke in me. I decided to break something else instead.

Her name was something to do with fire. Amber? Ember? Ashley? Ashlynn? I don’t remember her name. Is that sad? I remember other things. Like her eyes bulging. Or her attempts to scream. I remember those things. I remember burying her deep in the soft soil near a river. I pulled her body limply from the bed of my pickup truck, and shoved her broken body into the hole and grinned like a damn fool. I pretended it was Elsie. It felt so good that I almost blacked out.

I thought I would feel guilt. But I didn’t. I felt something greater than the sex, or the orgasm, or the warm vibrant aftermath. I felt purity. Something that was so evil made me feel pure.

I was washed clean from her death. It was a crucible that I poured myself into, and by pushing it into death, I was free from it. I did not know that I had discovered my drug at the time. I thought it would only be the once that I had to clean myself in such a way, but it wasn’t.

Another guitar riff counterpoints the piano. And pauses dramatically as the voice comes back to tell me its purpose.

“The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting…”

Drugs. I thought drugs were for the weak. Alcohol for the weakest. But I found the greatest drug already. Nothing could compare to the thrill of it. The chase, the dance, and the hunt. And when the life left, and the eyes went glossy and dull, and the breathing stopped, my blood would erupt into life, boiling within me. Everything between those moments was a semblance of life. Living was fake until that moment when death showed me how real I was.

“Try to kill it all away…”

I laugh. Because I remember everything.

*****

I will keep myself. They cannot take this away from me. They will try. They will…

*****

I am back in the field of wheat, the barn is still out of sight. I am eight years old again, and looking for my house in the fields. I tried calling out for my father and my mother and even my brother. I tried calling out for help. I tried praying for something. But only the fields can hear me, and they do not care.

The barn is missing, I cannot see it. The red is not where it should be, and I feel the night coming. The night is cold, I am not dressed for it. The wheat murmurs its long summer secret to me as I run through it, feeling the sharpness of the stalks against me. The wheat could be angry at times, whipping about, lashing out at anything near it. Today it was contemplative. It sang quietly, assuredly, and tried to tell me not to run. To find a spot and wait, but I ran. I ran in panic.

The wheat bent out of my way, as tears poured down my cheeks, and I could not remember why I was crying. I was eight. I had seen something.

What?

What had I seen? Something bad. A man. Choking a woman? My mother? My mother was choking on something, a man stood in front of her with his hands on her head. He groaned heavily in the field, and shuddered. I said, “Mommy?” They both looked shocked, and there was anger there. Anger and shame.

I was running to the barn to hide. But I could not find the barn. It was always there to find. A beacon in the dark. A lighthouse to guide me. I cannot find it, so I cry, and call out for help.

But no one comes.

*****

The second time was when I found out how much I needed it.

I am in bar, and an ugly old man is paying me to make him happy in the bathroom. He promises to give me fifty bucks so I can buy some food and fill up my truck. I thought about just robbing him out back, but at this point, I don’t really care. I am empty. I am so buried in black that I cannot see the light. I close my eyes and do it anyway.

It doesn’t take long. After the old man grunts, he buckles his oversize belt buckle and slaps me across the face and calls me a faggot. On my knees, my eyes watering, I take his money anyway. My face stings, and my lip is bloody, but I am empty, so I don’t care.

I wait for him outside. I wipe my eyes in the red glow of the bar sign, and wait for him to go to his big rig. I have a tire iron in my hand, someone just left it laying it in the back by the dumpster. It was small, the prying kind that was only little longer than my forearm, with a heavy end where you turn the lugs. I like the heft of it, the promise of it. It is hard and so full of potential energy, my arm shakes just holding it. It is an answer that I did not know that I needed to have.

The ugly old man opens the cab of his truck and I swing the iron into the back of his head. He drops with an angry sigh, like an exhale of breath that was not supposed to happen. I hit his ugly face with the next swing, and I know his half lidded eyes capture my visage. I am only twenty, a shock of brown hair poking up at all angles, a dirty face with more freckles than not, and bruising cheek where an old man slapped me for sucking him off. I hit him again, and feel a splash of blood across my fingers. I sigh in ecstasy as the freedom washes over me like a flood.

The darkness is gone. I am filled with joy. With white pure electricity in my veins.

I didn’t bother burying the old man and left him underneath and between the tires. I took the tire iron though, and tossed it into my campfire later that night to burn off anything left behind. The blood in my clothes came right out at the laundromat, just a little cold water and peroxide and everything was perfect. It took a few days for the black eye to heal, but I was made new. I was a radiant star in my own life, and everything else was open space.

I was high for a little over six months. The next one was a hitchhiker. The one after that was a whore in Reno. The one after that was runaway. The world had no shortage of fixes. And as an addict, I was able to use anytime I wanted. I purged every time I needed in order to keep the blackness away.

“What have I become, my sweetest friend. Everyone I know, goes away in the end.”

Yeah, they do. I tried to live a life worth living. I tried to find something in the world for just me. A girl that would have me, a job that would fulfill me, but I knew there was nothing but the high.

There was nothing but the next fix.

******

The guitar and piano pulls me back again. I want to curse.

I am in the field again, the wheat slaps my face. I cannot find the barn and I am desperate to find a place to hide. I hear calls behind me, my mother yelling she was sorry. A man calling my name, but he is a hand, so I don’t talk with the hands. My father told me time and time again to leave them be. He didn’t pay them to play with me. He paid them to work his fields, and to harvest his wheat, and to put food on our table. To make a future for me.

I want to find him. To tell him that a man was choking my mommy. That something was happening that I did not understand. I am an adult inside, and I know what that act is called, but my eight year self has no idea. I am clueless of what I had seen, but I am hurt by it. By the face of my mother, slicked with spit, her downturned mouth in such disappointment of me.

I run into the fields, and try to head to safety. But I cannot find it.

I will never find it.

*****

The song plays, and I open my eyes feebly. I am on a table, my arms are spread outwards like I am hanging from a cross. I feel a tear tumble down my cheek. The ceiling is concrete, and I hear a heart monitor next to me as a small ipod sitting on a pill shaped speaker nearby plays Johnny Cash’s rendition of of a Nine Inch Nails song from my youth. There is a needle in my arm, and they are pumping so many different drugs into me. Plungers are being depressed by a computer that some unseen man is running. That man killed me, but I don’t hold it against him.

I know people are watching me. They are behind glass. I had to address them. Tell them I was sorry. But I wasn’t sorry. I was just keeping myself clean. They wouldn’t understand what it meant. They couldn’t understand why I had the need to keep myself going. Why I had to do the next hit, the next death, the next moment of exhilarating freedom as I became myself. This is just the last one. My own. My own freedom from myself. They were actually freeing me and they had no idea.

I wish I could hear the entire song, but I know that I won’t.

*****

I am back in the field again. “If I could start again… A million miles away… I will keep myself… ”

The wheat is taller, and darker. Harvest would not be coming though. I am full of joy, and I am myself. I am not an eight year old any more. I am an adult standing tall in the grass as it bends in the winds from the southwest, blowing warmly against me. The barn burns off in the distance, a fire I set. The house is already an inferno with my mother inside of it. I would not have to look for the buildings ever again.

But that doesn’t matter. Maybe in another life I…

I would be a farmer maybe. I could have saved everyone. I would have stopped the darkness before it started. I would have a beautiful wife. Elsie probably. I would have kids that I could carry to bed and that would hug me for no reason. I could be the best version of me. I could be something special. Not the worst version that I had been.

I would find a way.

The fires disappear and the wheat around me fades to white smoke. I try to take a deep breath, but my lungs do not want to pull any air. I want to scream, but I cannot move my mouth. I am laying prostrate, and the lights are white, and the concrete is bright, and the beeping is slowing and intermittent, and I am wheat, and I am wheat, and I am wheat, and I am wheat, and I…

Short Story

The Ferint Decision

“The Ferint are a strange race,” Shakespeare said. “Out of the six races encountered by our people in the expansion of our Sphere, the Ferint are by far the strangest.  And it was not by measure of their evolution, or chemical composition, or make-up.  It was entirely based on their minds.  They think in strange, obscure ways.”

“How can they be so strange?  They are actually are not that different from us, right?” Malisandre asked, shaking her bright red hair out in the zero gravity bed that she floated in.

The AI took a gentle tone. “Be careful taking facts at face value.  The Ferint are a perfect example.  They appear to have evolved very similarly as humans.  They are bipedal, with multiple appendages across their midsection that can be classified as arms, and a head that holds a brain that is very similar in shape and build as your own, Malisandre.  However, their logic is based entirely on the interpretation of unrelated effects and causes around their actions.”

“Explain.”

“An example perhaps. The first encounter with the Ferint was over fifty standard years ago.  The System-class ship Gravitas was performing a standard settlement run between Earth and Ahona, a frontier Terran system 43 light years distant. When Gravitas entered the Ahona system, it found the two moons of Ahona destroyed, and the surface of Ahona fused into molten glass.  Not a single survivor.  At rest in the Lagrange point between Ahona and it’s parent star, a ship of a bizarre configuration was discovered.  Its distinct warp signature was still rippling across hyperspace, and gave little to no doubt that this strange ship was the aggressor against our people.

“Gravitas sent wide-band, narrow-band, high-energy, and tight beam communications to the stranger they had found, asking for identification using a standard protocol that had been developed amongst the other space faring races of the Milky Way galaxy, through trial and error, it was simple enough to understand.  It was a moment like this that the standard protocols were developed… because if a race had developed their society to a point where they could travel through interstellar space, then the mathematical models that made up the standard hailing would be simple enough to understand.

“They were fired upon,” Shakespeare said sadly. “The Gravitas was not equipped for inter-system warfare.  At the time, we had little to no conflict with any of our neighbors.  The galaxy is very large after all.  They were able to escape, but sustaining heavy losses to the crew.  As they limped out of the system, they received open communications from the Ferint ship.  The package was a warning of sorts.  The Ferint saw all of creation as their own, and it was foretold that the system we called Ahona would be destroyed at that time marker on their own calendar.  They destroyed the planet, the moons, and the inhabitants to justify a mating ritual on their ship.”

“What?  That makes absolutely no sense.  They need to kill and destroy in order to procreate?” Malisandre said disgustedly.

“No.  We believe they interpreted the destruction as a sign that they should have a mating season.”

“But they caused the destruction.”

“Indeed.” Shakespeare replied. “And a significant portion of the comms package was unintelligible.”

“Huh.” Malisandre stretched, simultaneous feeling relaxed and disgusted.  It was a bizarre sensation.

“We have no method to translate their behavior.  As you know, we pride ourselves on our ability to forecast, interpret, and understand the events of our shared universe.  The Ferint do not fit.  Every encounter we have with them goes poorly, every time we think we understand their motivations and desires, we get it completely wrong.  They are truly alien to us.”

“What makes them so different?”

“We have only supposition. We know they do not have AI.  All of their computers are tools, nothing more.  They are not hyper-intelligent either.  Their brain mass and metabolism are roughly equivalent to a human being. Our prevailing theory is that like a human, they have a filters in their conscious mind that helps process and break down the stimuli around them.  A human being is able to process their senses, interpret the data, and then act on that data in such a way that makes them a functioning person.  When those filters are damaged or missing, mental failures occur, causing conditions like autism or catatonia.  We believe the filters the Ferint use are very different. They choose to focus on unrelated stimuli, like the color of a star would make a sound for them, and they would interpret that sound as a call to harvest food.  Our supposition is that they do not have AI because they cannot replicate their thought patterns by either hardware or software.”

“Synesthesia?” Malisandre laughed. “A race that misinterpets their stimuli?”

“It is not that simple. But yes.”

“How did they survive to become interstellar?”

“The universe works in strange ways.” Shakespeare said offhandedly.

“Are you gaining religion, Shakespeare?” Malisandre teased.

“Don’t be crude, Malisandre.  Now please, get dressed.”

“My guests have arrived?”

“They have.  The Ambassadors are currently receiving a tour, and should be in your conference space in about 30 minutes.”

“To discuss the eradication of a species.” A heavy sigh.

“I never said it was going to be easy, Malisandre.”

“Why am I here?  I am just a lazy layabout.”

“Some individuals in the Sphere have an uncanny ability to understand things we AI cannot.  We do not question this variation.  Call it luck, call it a hunch, call it what you will.  But you, Malisandre, have it.  Your interactions with the Ambassadors will have the best possible outcome.  We know it.”

“Great,” Malisandre groaned. “Then why don’t I feel that way?”

The ship AI laughed and turned up the lights to full brightness.

“Agh. Lights bad.” Malisandre floated downwards with an arm over her face as gravity reasserted itself. “Shakespeare, can you review the Ambassador Summary again, please?”

“You did not do the homework that I requested of you,” Shakespeare said disapprovingly.

“You monitor my every movement, you know exactly what I did.”

“I do not monitor your every movement.”

“You may not do so consciously, but your sensors pick up everything anyway.”

“That is functionally correct, but I do allow you your privacy,” the AI said.

“Uh-huh.  And I don’t go to the bathroom, like ever.”

“Sarcasm, Mal, does not become you.”

“Report, Shakespeare. Report.” Malisandre said with a wry smile.

“Fine.  The Ecol Ambassador’s name is Fraxis. The Ecolian is old by their standards, and has been mated off at least a dozen times.  Considers itself an extremely successful Ecol, and happens to own about 35% of his home planet.  Prefers using hyperbole over fact.”

“Got it.  Ecol, Fraxis, rich, likes to fuck and exaggerate.”

“Your summation is crude and offensive.” Shakespeare groaned.

“Fits me just fine.  Continue.”

“The Dynsilian Ambassador’s name is Dodo…?”

“Stop.  Seriously?” Mal interrupted laughing. “DODO?”

“Yes. Dodo.  It is not funny and has nothing to do with the extinct avian earth species.”

“I don’t care, it’s funny.  I promise not to squawk at him.”

“The ambassador is fairly young, elected to his position by the ruling body of his people, very secretive for his kind, rarely exits his exoskeleton even among his own people.”

“Dodo the Dynsilian, not a bird, but likes to be caged.”

“If I could sigh in such a way I could feign displeasure, I would do so.”

“I know Shakespeare.  I can’t help it.  If I recall, that is what makes me valuable to the AIs.”

“The Chari ambassador’s name is Mikahail…”

“Like the old Russian form of Michael?”

“Yes, it seems the booming cultural export business from Earth had led to some  appropriation within the Chari culture.  Mikahail is named for St. Michael from the Christian Bible.  The Charians probably find the old stories of the bible particularly gruesome, which aligns with their own belief system well.  Coupled with the Russian history on planet Earth, makes it even better.  They appreciate undue suffering.  Mikahail is an ambassador for his people to service his suffering, as being offworld is seen as unnatural and a sin.”

“Forget the Ferint, how the Charians ever become interstellar?” Malisandre said.  “I mean if it is a sin to be off planet… why would anyone go off planet?”

“Economics.”

“They got too large to sustain themselves?”

“Just like Earth.” The AI agreed. “But unlike Earth they pushed outwards for other reasons.”

“And the other two?”

“The Dar are not attending.  They send their regards and have stated they wish to not be involved at this time.  Of course, they have their own civil war ongoing, so we are not surprised.”

“Well that makes sense. The Gol Isan?

“The Gol Isan’s ambassador’s name is Tes di Na lo ti Na Wa.  He killed his way to be ambassador, eliminating all the brood masters in his clade.  He is a viciously cunning for even a Gol Isan, and one of their best warriors.”

“That’s nice.” Mal smiled widely. “Good thing the Gol Isan are little trolls that anyone can punt.”

“Small in stature, but very durable, and very smart. We believe their neural mass is twice the density and four times the efficiency of humans.  Do not let their diminutive stature fool you.”

“Gol Isan, Tes Dina-loti-nawa, killer football extraordinaire.”

“Please get dressed and make it to the conference area before they arrive.  I would suggest your blue dress with the black linings.”

“You would.  That is far too formal.” Malisandre frowned.

“This is a formal occasion, Mal.  You are meeting with four of the five representatives for hundreds of billions of individuals.  This is as formal as it gets!  Please adjust your mindset accordingly.”

“No thanks, Shakes.  I will stick with what I know.  And that means something comfortable,” Malisandre said. “Will they have aids and such?”

“Most of them have retinues and attendants, only the Dynsilian is alone.  I am forecasting a significant resource consumption for the duration of their stay on my ship.”

“Well good thing you are a such a big ship.  I think you can handle it.  You have an entire forest, ocean, and enough people in the living spaces to populate a small moon in one offload.  I think you can handle it.”

“Do not worry about me, Mal.  Worry about building consensus.”

“Why eradication though?  Can we just keep the Ferint imprisoned on their core worlds?”

“Not feasible since they do not have core worlds.  And the Ferint are waging a war on us whether we admit to it or not. We do not need a declaration of war to fight a belief system that we cannot understand.  We need consensus to fight this.  They are advancing in ways that we do not understand.  They are a threat that cannot be understood.  They are an unknown quantity.”

“Unknown quantities cause AI physical pain, after all.  Well known fact.” Malisandre teased.  She pulled on her pants, feeling the stretchy meta material form to her skin, warming at her knees and sending small flickers of static electricity through the reflective fibers at the stitch lines.  For her top, Mal decided to keep it simple and go with a simple draping sweater.  The foreign ambassadors would be utilizing a whole suite of tools and abilities to constantly measure her reactions and movements across every single frequency that was not harmful.  Malisandre’s belief was that if everything was monitored, there was no reason to not be herself at every opportunity.

“Your recreational wear is not the best choice, Mal.”

“Why don’t you worry about running yourself.”

“Mal, I am system-level AI.  I can have this level of interaction with every soul aboard, as well as maintain hyperlink conversations with every single AI in range, while running all operations with the fullness of my attention that you would have while eating a meal.”

“I know.  You are a very fancy machine.”

“That is derogatory.”

“I used the word ‘fancy’, Shakes. You are very fancy.  Imagine an AI being offended at being called a machine.  Its like me being offended being called a watersack.”

“I like the term meatstick.” Shakespeare replied.

“Oooh, I like that one too.  In future discussions I want all humans to be referred to meatsticks.”

“Noted.  Now please, make your way to the conference area.  I have highlighted it on your retinal display.  Which you have disabled.”  The AI sighed. “Would you please turn it on so I can communicate with you during your session?”

“No.  They will know if I am talking to any… machines.”  She turned her connections on as she left her quarters, and walked out into one of the wide common areas that stretched internally and externally within Shakespeare.

“They will not.  My systems use levels of quantum encryption that they are not capable of breaking.” Shakespeare replied into her ear.

“I am not afraid of being overheard, Shakes.  I am afraid of them seeing me confer with other parties that are not in the room.”

“Ah.  Well.  I will be monitoring nonetheless.”

“I am counting on it.  Right around the five minute mark after introductions, please flood the room with jamming.”  Mal said as she walked towards the lift.  People were milling about in her section, moving over the wide transparent corridors overhead and below, the tall metal walls that enclosed the space appeared to be kilometers away, which incidentally, they were.  Shakespeare’s main outdoor space was larger than many space stations. The trees were very tall, allowed to be in small pockets of low-g, which gave the trees a chance to grow much higher than they would on Earth. Some of the aspens near her own quarters were hundreds of feet tall, their golden leaves spread far over head.

“What?  Why?  I have no intention of starting an intersolar conflict myself.” Shakespeare replied.

“Weenie.  I have my reasons.  Just do it.”  Mal laughed.

“Fine.”

“I am turning you off now.”  Mal waved her hand, and all her uplinks went offline. “Ah silence.”

The lift speaker turned on. “Oh I am still here.”

“See… a fancy machine that likes to show off.”

The lift doors opened to the main conference area, far ahead the peoples of four different races milled about, exchanging greetings, receiving gifts, and making small talk.  The Dynsilian named Dodo towered over the others gathered about him.  The exoskeleton was in the shape of willowly humanoid, with slender metal arms, legs, and a torso that stretched elegantly to an ellipsoid skull.  The Ambasssador would be in the head, floating amiably, attempting to interact with others without losing any information or failing to communicate with the colored aura fields of his exosuit.  The exoskeleton was required for his race, since the Dynsilians were deep water creatures on mid to high-g worlds.  They had a small colony on Earth, in a couple of the deepest trenches of the Atlantic ocean.  But here, on a system-level ship, there was no ecosystem that would support the Dynsilian out of its protective suit.   The ship of course could configure such a space, but the Dynsilian would be alone hovering within it, which would have defeated the purpose of the gathering in the first place.

The Gol Isan were given wide berths by the retinues of the Ecol and Chari, both of which were probably mortally afraid of causing any offense accidentally.  The Gol Isan took it as a sign of respect (which it wasn’t), but it worked out for all parties nonetheless.  The Gol Isan guards had ceremonial spears in their hands, the tips outfitted with force impellers. Malisandre was fairly certain that Shakespeare had disabled any and all weaponry when the guests had disembarked their own craft.  They all only came up to the knees of a human, due to the high-g world they had evolved on, their own short stumpy legs and extremely dense bone structure coupled with powerful short muscles had provided them an edge on a world full of bigger, scarier monsters. Their ferocity was unparalleled.  If they were any more advanced, other races would have had something to worry about.

The Ecol retinue that milled about were nearly all females, scantily clad by even human standards, the women all were only wearing a thin shift with undergarments plainly visible underneath. Although Ecols did not have breasts and their sexuality was defined differently than humans, the intent of being naked versus being dressed was commonly understood between the races.  Even a human would realize that a barely dressed Ecol was provocative, even if they lacked the evolutionary wiring to find anything actually attractive about it. The single male that was fully dressed must have been Fraxis.  He was fat and by the looks of it, probably drunk.

Finally the Chari moved fluidly among the crowd, each wore what a human would call a hooded dress.  The dress extended to the floor to cover their multitude of legs that they scuttled about on like human sized cockroaches.  Their hoods were pulled over their oblong shaped heads and you could only see their three eyes when they looked directly at you.  Most of the Charians only used three of their limbs as arms, sometimes they would prefer five, sometimes one, and dress accordingly.  Today, all of the Chari delegation were showing three arms from their dresses, which provided Mal encouragement.  That meant that they were subconsciously aligned with one another.  The Chari with the bound arm behind its back must have been the Ambassador.  Tying off one arm in the presence of humans was seen as a gift by the Chari.

Malisandre strode directly into the throng, and first bowed to the bound Chari. “Mikahail, I have heard much of you.”

“Ah, the final representative comes upon us, to bless us in our congregation. Welcome, young Malisandre.  I was informed by your AI that you have only the one name, is that correct?”  The Charian bowed slowly, the bound arm sliding up its back.

Mal reached out and touched the Chari representative on the shoulder. “It is. I am the only one like me, so I only need the one name.  Any more than that, and it just muddles things up.  Although, you are right, I am young.  Is my age any issue for you?”

“None, my young one.  I have witnessed how the humans value the unique strengths of each other above all else.  I can only assume you were chosen to be the Ambassador for your Sphere because you are the most qualified to do so.”

“That would be a fair assessment, Mikahail.  I am here but to serve the process to the best of my ability.  Please dismiss your attendants and move into the hall, I will join you shortly.” Mal smiled kindly, waving at the doorway at the far end of the meeting area. “You will find refreshments and seating meant for you.  Of course, if you need anything, just address our host, Shakespeare, and he will send a drone with your request.”

“Thank you and most gracious, I look forward to our discussion of the Ferint menace.”  Mikahail said as he turned and moved off as if he was floating on air.

“Discussion, pah. I know what my vote is.” Tes the Gol Isan said, pushing his way through his guards. “Obliterate them, turn their worlds into graveyards, and erect monuments to our greatness upon them.”

“Well, that certainly is one way to do things.” Mal laughed. “Malisandre at your service, Tes di Na lo ti Na Wa.”

“You pronounced my name right.  I am thinking I may not attempt to kill you now.”  The Gol Isan grinned widely, showing his tiny shark like teeth forming neat rows within his lower jaw. “Can I have your word that I can dismiss my guards and no threat will be made upon me?  Although a threat would be a welcome diversion.”

“No threat upon you.  Unless you consider being threatened with words you cannot understand.” Malisandre said in a soft growling voice, teasing the short leader.

“HA! I have definitively decided to not kill you.”

“Well that will certainly make our negotiations go more quickly.  Please go down to that door, and you will find refreshments and a seat built for your greatness.” Mal waved at the door the Charian was moving towards gracefully.

“Yes. GUARDS! FIND A HOLE!” The Gol Isan yelled.  The nearest guard jumped as if startled and waved his force impeller spear about warily.  Another guard tapped him on the shoulder and they moved away, bored again.

The fat Ecol, Fraxis had hugged and licked half of his retinue in dismissal, some of the females sobbing at being sent away.  He patted the last two on their very large backsides and waddled over to Mal with a huge grin on his face.  His jowls waved as he walked, small tentacles near his mouth waved in front of him as walked, probably an evolutionary trait to keep bugs away.

“You are Malisandre.  Our gracious human host for this event.  I must admit, I hate being parted from my, what is it that you call it… my harem.  They need constant attention in order to be happy.  And I care only for their happiness,” the fat Ecol said.

“They will survive, Fraxis.  I have been told that you love them so thoroughly that they could go weeks without your presence, only pining over images of you to sustain them,” Mal replied.

“That is very true.  I am a competent lover and they are appropriately loved,” Fraxis grinned. “At least three or four times a day.  Sadly my mating days are over, but I can enjoy the practice nonetheless.”

“A motto we could all live by.  If you please, move to the doorway down there and you will find some Ecolian Brandy standing by.  I procured a case worth a few months ago at great cost knowing that soon I would be able to share it with someone of your great esteem.”

“Ooooh, you are a smooth one.  Very lovely.” The Ecol licked one of his tentacles like a child sucking a finger tip. “That sound lovely indeed.  I may need more than one bottle.”

Mal leaned over conspiratorially.  “I hid three more bottles under the table cloth for you.”

Fraxis winked and with a grin slapped Mal on her butt as he walked away.

“They literally are just sex machines.” Mal said to herself. “That would be exhausting.”

She looked for the Dynsilian, and he stood at the hard field, looking into the bright stars of the outer spiral arm, and the nearby redness of a nebula still being pushed outward by a long expired supernova.

“Dodo?” Mal asked as she walked up behind the seven foot tall bipedal exosuit. “Are you well?”

“Feel free to call me Dee, Mal.”  The Dynsilian turned away from the view looking at Mal with its robotic eyes. “I am very well, thank you.  I just rarely get to view the stars around us, among us, within us. I feel as if I was born into the wrong race sometimes…”

“Why is that, Dee?”  Mal asked, surprised by the level of trust that the hidden Dynsilian had already shown.

“I know you cannot see me for what I am, but I am kept from all this, and all that,” Dee waved at the hard field, “by this shell around me. Everything is filtered through this crude shell that I have to wear to keep me alive.  I wish I were more like you or the other races in attendance.  I wish I could eat other foods, or smell other things, or even just feel air.”

“I have a story you would love from our archives, Dee.  Do you like stories?”

“Yes, I have watched many of Earth’s holofilms.  And a few of the Ecolian ones as well.  Although I prefer the ones from Earth.  The Ecolian’s seemded dirty for some reason.”

Mal giggled.  “Probably because they are meant to be.  I will have Shakespeare transfer my personal collection choices to your ship.  One of them is called the Little Mermaid, a very old story from my people that you should enjoy.  It spawned countless works and other stories that followed similar themes.  There is enough content there to keep you distracted for a few years at least.”

“I appreciate that, Mal.  I did not bring you a gift.”  The Dynsilian bowed lightly.  Mal wondered if he sloshed about at all in the head as the suit moved.

“Your presence is gift enough, Dee.  If you come with me, we can get started.”

They started walking towards the doorway, as the last of the Ecolian retinue climbed onto a lift, consoling each other with caresses and some aggressive squeezing.  Mal noted that the Dynsilian imitated a head shake fairly well as they passed.

“Ecolians are bacchanalian in every way.”  Dee’s aura field shifted to yellow, showing he was disgusted.

“Ah, so you have studied Earth a little.  To use such a word would be like me using estari when talking about your dreaming,” Mal replied.

“Very good, Mal. I am estari, aren’t I?”

“I would say so. But that is fine, Dee.  It fits you.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.  You are very perceptive for a human, Mal.”

“Perhaps.  I like to consider myself a good listener.”

They entered the smaller hall, where the other delegates had found their respective seats shaped best to their anatomy. Dee would not use a chair at all, since having a robot body sit to conserve energy made no sense at all.  Mal grabbed a glass and a hidden bottle of wine and sat down at her spot at the floating circular slab of anti-grav surface acting as a table.

The Gol Isan suddenly slapped the side of his head with a grimace on his face. The Charian tilted his own head at the display and shifted in his seat in an odd way, as if one of his legs was being pulled underneath the others.

Tes growled and lowered his eyes. “We are being jammed.  Mikahail, are you doing it?”

“No, I noticed it myself.  My uplink to my staff has gone offline, although I am glad for it,” the Charian replied.

“It was my doing.” Mal spoke up, pouring a glass of wine slowly, watching the red vintage from a terran colony called Gethsemane foam lightly.  It had good legs.

“Why, Mal?” Dee asked lightly, his aura turned a soft green, showing he was concerned.

“Because these proceedings are confidential.  I know among your people, there is a belief that our AI run things.  While that may be true, I am not run by anything.  I am my own person, with my own thoughts and my own beliefs.  Our people are driven to be the best that they can be, and our AI are an extension of that.  We allow our AI to direct and govern because we have designed them to do so.  They are not bound to material needs like human beings.  They are free from the corruptions that can drive human beings to make poor short term decisions.  Yet, here you all have a human, sitting in front of you, drinking a wine that will impair my judgment if I imbibe too much, and will get hungry eventually, and will need to sleep and eliminate. Much like all of you,” Mal smiled widely and took a sip of wine. “But right here, right now, we are talking about something so monumental we all need to be in the same space.  At this moment, we are all equals.  I know that many of you are here because you are the richest, or the strongest, or the smartest, or the most respected… and I know that I am here because I am the best person to be here.”

“So we will stay jammed?” Tes growled.

“Absolutely, you little punk,” Mal said fiercely.

The Gol Isan looked furious for a moment, then it flickered to humor, then back to anger, before settling on a sort of contentment.  He settled back into his chair and took a swig from a little ceramic case in front of him. “You are worthy, continue Mal.”

“We are here to decide if xenocide is the answer.” Mal spoke solemnly.

“Xenocide is a strong word,” Dee said.

The Chari frowned, his mouth tentacles hanging still. “A poor choice. Though. It is.  We are talking about the eradication of an entire species of individuals.”

“But we know why we are here,” Tes said hitting the table with his small fist. “The Ferint are a disease. They have weaponry that is extremely dangerous to all of our people, with ships capable of eradicating entire planets, and their motivations are so backward…”

“They have slaughtered my own people. They turned one of our homeworlds into an asteroid belt.  We still do not know why.” Dee said, even through the translation systems, he sounded very sad.

“They attack and give us no cause.  They have had engagements with our ships as if they were playing a game.” Fraxis said solemnly. “They send us communications that are images of strange things, rituals, and explanations that would not make sense to any heuristic program.”

“God created them for a reason,” Mikahail nodded. “Perhaps they were created to test us and improve us through this suffering.”

“I know it may be counter to your approach, Mikahail, but I would ask that we keep philosophy out of this,” Mal said.

“I can do that, but in the end, it is a philosophical discussion, young one.  The choice is not a practical one.  We cannot destroy an entire people because we need their resources, or that they are counter to our survival.  We are here to discuss if they are threat to us in a greater way.  And that goes beyond the normal material considerations.”

“Is it for the greater good, you mean?” Dee asked.

The Chari nodded. “Precisely, my swimming friend.”

“But it is a dangerous conversation.  If we can do this for one race, could we not do it for any race?  What if my race offended you all?  If you decided the Ecol were no longer for the greater good, you could just eliminate us?” Fraxis said, frowning.

“But it is not the same,” Mikahail said. “The Ecolians or the Dynsilians or the Humans do not sail the stars and destroy wantonly, without cause or merit.  We have never even seen the Ferint except through what they choose to broadcast at us.  We infer everything.  They destroy because they believe in it.  They expand their Sphere because they believe in it. They do everything because they think they need to do it.”

“We have captured some corpses.  We believe their brains are built very differently than ours.  Yet we cannot build a model of their behavior. Right now, we believe that the Ferint are at war with all of us.”

“What if they are actually at war with everything?” Dee asked.

“What do you mean?” Tes said.

“What if they war not because they seek to subjugate, or control, or compete, but because they are at war with the universe?  All of creation is against them?  They destroy our worlds, our outposts, our ships, as they do to yours as well… but we have observed them killing entire planets that were uninhabited except for simple life.” Dee said.

“We have seen the same,” Mikahail said. “They destroy just to destroy.”

“Our AI believe that they suffer from a form of Synesthesia.” Mal said, pouring another glass of wine.

“What is that?”

“Their senses are cross wired.  The see a color and hear a musical note instead.  They taste what they feel, or hear what they see.  Our AI believe that they act according to their observations in strange ways accordingly. They literally see the universe differently than all of us.” Malisandre said, thinning her lips.

“So we cannot negotiate with them,” Mikahail said as he shook his head.

“We have all tried.” Mal admitted.

“We fight them at every turn,” Tes said, scratching his chin with a talon, “and they fight back. For every one ship we destroy, we estimate we lose ten.  They are strong and their weapons are powerful.”

“The are like locusts on Earth.” Dee said quietly.  “They travel outwards, spreading their ships, and destroying worlds.  Using the resources to spread further.  I bet they do not even have a homeworld any longer.  That is probably the first world they destroyed.  They have perfected destruction.  Our losses are just as great.”

“They are a disease of the universe, and we lose even more,” Mikahail admitted.

“Wait.  None… of you came here to discuss the question of if we should eradicate them…” Mal saw the big picture form in her mind.  She saw the pieces, as if they were laid out on a board in front of her. “You came for help.  All of you came here for help.”

There was silence around the table.  Tes lowered his eyes and stared at his drink, while the Chari and Dynsilian were unreadable.

“I see.” Mal lowered her head.  “The decision to eradicate the Ferint was already made.”

“Yes.” Tes said quietly. “I was not… lying.”

Dee waved his arms indicating their surroundings. “Your ships are the most advanced fleet in the spiral arm.”

“So the human race is being asked to be the exterminators.”

“We will help.” Mikahail followed quickly. “We will pledge resources, planets, advanced materials, anything.  We need your help, Mal.”

“Do you speak for your entire race?” Tes asked.

“Do you?” Mal replied with a bitter smile.

“I do.” Tes nodded.

“As do I.” Mal frowned, her eyebrows coming downwards towards the bridge of her nose.  “I did not wake up today thinking I was solely responsible for deciding the destruction of an entire race.”

“Your suffering is great, and it is noble,” the Charian noted.

“If I make this choice, I will be forever known for it.” Mal said.  She raised her arms over her head and waved them like she was calling down a rescue. “Shakespeare.”

The overhead speakers turned on.  “I am here.”

“Your desire to not start an intersolar conflict today is not going to be met.”

“Understood, I will broadcast the decision.” Shakespeare said.

“Just like that?” Tes said in wonder. “You do not need to discuss this among your people?”

“Just like that, Tes di Na lo ti Na Wa.” Mal replied.  The Gol Isan commander’s eyes went even wider.

Dee’s speaker grille started to emit a high pitched chatter.

“I think that is first time I have ever heard a Dynsilian laugh,” Mal said. “Now, time to get to work… discussing our future.”