Antir opened the door first, and gestured inside, prompting him to enter. Adam had to duck down to enter, between his height and the size of his suit’s life-support backpack. Even when he thought he had it right, he still managed to bump the top of it on the doorframe. Once he was back upright, he saw that the interior was full of books. A library! But who’s the librarian? And is it okay for me to be here? He moved out of the way of the doorway and the bookcases, which appeared to be carved into the inner trunk – how is the tree still okay with all this? – and sat down on the ground, with a loud thud! Does this suit really weigh that much? I should have taken a better look at the manual. Antir wasn’t startled – or if it was, he missed that.
Antir let out a call: [xõ elˈzɤ̌ːː]
Quickly down the stairs, also carved from the inner trunk, came what looked like a bipedal reptile. So there’s more than equines for the Indigenous? Curiouser and curiouser. . . feels like something out of Dungeons and Dragons. Wait, they have unicorns and pegasi. . . could that actually be a dragon? When it saw Adam, it did appear to be startled. After making eye contact for a moment, it turned back to Antir. [ěm . xõ ɑ̃ˈtiɹ] it seemed to ask.
Antir then spouted off a reply that was far too fast for him to keep up – and unfortunately, the ‘dragon’ was barely able to keep up as well. Somehow, it nodded after the equine finished, and set to work finding what was apparently a list of book titles, while Antir stepped out of the room.
As Adam watched, the dragon searched a wide variety of the shelves for just what its apparent master had requested. One by one, these books came together into a stack in its arms. He suddenly had to dodge a quick movement of its arms as it reached for the shelf to his right. Once the dragon had a good stack of books, it deposited them in the middle of the floor. That’s a lot of reading. No way we’re getting through all of that before the carbon scrubbers fill up. Seeing Adam just sitting there, it backed away slowly to a doorway to another room – and nearly bumped into Antir, who was coming back in with some paper, a quill, and an inkwell.
The equine gestured Adam to approach and sit down by its side. Couldn’t you just move the books to where I am with your magic? But he did so anyway, with some reluctance. Take a little more out of me, why don’t you?
The unicorn then started sifting through the stack, looking for one book in particular. Eventually it hit upon it – it was brown, linen-bound, with an image of plants, mushrooms, and a bird on the front cover. Biology? Nature, more specifically? Time to see how similar we are – and if our quarantine policies were warranted.
Antir flipped open the book to a page close to the start. Here were two images of what looked like reproductive organs, along with two symbols to represent them. Ah! Sexual reproduction! Seems we’re not so different after all. The left drawing was what looked like two pairs of ovaries – two pairs? Okay, that is odd – and a womb, and its symbol was an oval broken lengthwise, like a pair of parentheses. The right drawing was a pair of testes, and its symbol was shaped like a T. Classy. The equine then pulled a stick of chalk from its saddlebag, and used it to point at itself, then on the ‘female’ symbol. Oh, Antir’s a mare, is she? I’ll have to remember that.
She then looked to Adam, eyebrow raised, as if she expected him to indicate his sex. With a finger, he pointed at himself, then laid it on the ‘male’ symbol. Sorry Antir, I’m married. She didn’t seem to care that much, instead scribbling down on the paper, quill held in her unknown grip.
A surprising amount accomplished, and I’m not even trained in biology. Now what? Antir pulled out her chalkboard, and with the chalk already out, started drawing a stick-figure version of herself, a bipedal dragon – the assistant, I’ll bet – and two larger ponies, adding a rod-and-sphere arrow to the smaller one, and labeling it with something in her language’s native script. After Adam raised an eyebrow in confusion, the chalk tapped the writing, then Antir’s chest. Oh that’s right, that’s her name. And that looks like her immediate family. No doubt the dragon was adopted.
She pulled out a second stick of chalk, then tapped the chest of his suit with it. He grabbed it carefully from the non-lit side, and when the light dissipated, he put down a stick-figure version of his own family. There’s me, there’s my mother, and there’s my father, may he rest in peace – arrow to me, and ADAM. Sorry to say you can’t see them right now, Antir. They’re a good. . . I have no idea how many light-years away from here.
After noting his immediate family on paper, Antir pulled a cloth out of her bag, then erased the board. Her next drawing – stick-figure man in front of a house, rod-and-sphere arrow, then another stick-figure man with a stick-figure horse. Above the arrow was written a symbol that looked like a backwards 6. She tapped that backwards 6, and made a show of raising her eyebrow and cocking her head repeatedly. It took Adam a moment to realize that was a question mark – native to their script, or purpose-made? – and, all put together, she was asking him how he got here. Not necessarily how I got out of the lander, I reckon – she must’ve seen the suit mounted outside earlier.
To answer her question – well, that’s an interesting story, but how do I best explain it? He wiped the board clean, but he still hesitated, as if he was forbidden to speak of it. Then he started redrawing the Solar System – might as well go with something pictorial. From there, he placed some dotted lines radiating from Jupiter – radiating into a ‘magnification’ of the area, and showed the planet in situ, and the Flandro Object, which Voyager had discovered. A curved arrow, and he redrew her own star system, taking note of the third planet she knew of before, but he did not. Antir wasn’t very surprised by this revelation. Were we not the first? Are there others out there, starfaring like us, but with more elegance?
Eh, too many questions for now. He hovered the cloth over the board, giving Antir a chance to get down the story so far. Next he actually erased the Jovian diagram and her star system, and drew his best representation of Zodiac-Altair – large rotating habitat in the front, that was the Zodiac half, then the long, spindly Altair half, with varying branches: the bridge, fuel tanks, thrusters, and the other TPRU capsules. But how do I get it from one place to the next?
Then he remembered, out of the blue – back when he was in third grade, NASA had launched Pioneer 10, to visit Jupiter – a feat that seemed impossible. Consequently, since there was no way for the probe to return to Earth, it was suggested that a plaque be placed on the probe, in case any aliens should find it. Part of the plaque crudely traced the probe’s trajectory from the third planet to the fifth one.
So that’s just what he did – a small arrow traced along the solar system from the third planet, past the fourth, then to the large fifth one. A ‘hole’ in space-time represented the wormhole, and then he redrew her star system once again, this time adding the other end of the wormhole, and traced the ship’s trajectory, past the local moon, to Rhysling.
Antir nodded in understanding, quickly jotting all of it down on the paper sheet. Seeing that it had filled up so fast, she rolled it up, affixed a red band to hold it so, then readied a second sheet. Adam let her erase the board herself, then on it, she drew a stick-figure man, the multiplication symbol, then the question mark. It took him no time at all to interpret it as a question of how many of him there were. On Zodiac-Altair? Or Earth itself? He had to clarify – he erased the board, then drew a quick Zodiac-Altair, then a quicker Solar System, slipping her question mark between them. She grabbed the chalk from his grip, then tapped both with it. Oh God, Earth’s going to be a nightmare.
He erased the question mark, then put a number key to remind Antir of his native decimal counting. | = 1, || = 2, and so forth. Then under Zodiac-Altair, he put 50, but hesitated before Earth. Global population’s growing all the time, and the five-point-five-billion figure I read on the flight down to Florida might not be accurate anymore. I’m going to have to eyeball this one. Let’s call it. . . six billion! He could barely see out the corner of the suit’s helmet, but he could tell just how much more Antir’s eyes bugged out of her skull with each zero he put down. Convert that, genius.
The unicorn needed a few moments to get her bearings – and once she did, she spent another moment to convert 50 into senary. Eventually, swiping the chalk from his hand, she put down one pip, then two, then another two.
Then she stopped. The chalk even dropped from her telekinesis.
Is she okay? Adam wanted to snap his fingers, but the joints in the gloves were still too stiff to let him do that. Besides, I don’t think she’d like it that much. Though – his thoughts returned to the dragon – it did have opposing hands like mine. I’m sure it’s done that before himself.
Then, with some hesitation, she picked the chalk back up. The pip sequence was just as dizzying as the scale he had described – two pips, four pips, three pips, one, two, one, two, four, five, three, four, another four, then the pause sign to indicate a zero. Well, when you put it that way. . . we really should put the brakes on our population. But then, I would never have gotten to know Gina, would I?
Antir started writing down the figures, confident that her math checked out. I’m not even going to try to correct her, Adam resolved. I was never the best in math. Then she erased the board, then drew a circle, crudely delineating Rhysling’s continents, then put down three pips, five pips, then eight null symbols in a row. Senary 3.5 billion. But how do I convert that? Maybe she would know? Out of desperate quick thinking, he put down an arrow from the pips, and made it point to her question mark. I’m sure she’ll think our math isn’t so advanced after all.
To his relief, Antir was happy to show him – or at least a hint. With her chalk, she wrote down 1, 6, 36, then put a long line after 36. Then Dr. Marshall’s lectures came rushing back – long division, of course! Plus there’s five zeros, so it’s a little less work for me. Just a little. Antir scooted some paper and her quill over to him, letting him work it out.
One, six, thirty-six. . . what comes next? Six times six made thirty-six, carrying the three, six times three plus three made twenty-one. Two hundred sixteen! That’s right! From there, he got twelve hundred ninety-six – seven thousand, seven hundred seventy-six, then forty-six thousand, six hundred fifty-six, and so forth until he reached, at long last, ten million, seventy-seven thousand, six hundred ninety-six. Man, I wish I had a calculator with me everywhere I went.
The further he went, the easier it became. That last number, tripled, was thirty million, two hundred thirty-three thousand, eighty-eight. Next one down, one million, six hundred seventy-nine thousand, six hundred sixteen, times five, was eight million, three hundred ninety-eight thousand, eighty. Added together, the total population of Rhysling was thirty-eight million, six hundred thirty-one thousand, one hundred sixty-eight. That’s quite big, Adam thought. Is that for the entire globe, counting only these equines, or is it only for her particular nation? I hope the rest of the crew has second thoughts about an embryonic explosion.
Now, if only I can get this down – wait, no notebook? Dammit! How will I remember all this? Of course I’d write it down, but with contamination risk. . . . Giving up, he pressed the radio button on this chest. “Zodiac-Altair, this is Somerset,” he opened. “I probably should’ve asked this before, but is it possible to write down notes while in the field? Over.”
A moment passed. “This is Zulu-Alfa,” Louis replied. “I knew there was something we’ve forgotten to mention to you. There was something about a locker. . . let me check with Anton. Please stand by.” Then silence passed for two minutes – two long, agonizing embarrassing minutes. Come on, hurry back! What’s taking you so long?
Louis’s voice then flooded his helmet. “Just got back from the cambuse,” he said. “Sounds like something that slipped through the cracks for you, doesn’t it? Next to the suit-dock, there’s a locker one can use to sterilize items going in and out of the lander. Make sure both doors are closed and sealed, and it should take a few minutes. Obviously don’t use it for any biological samples. Anything else? Over.”
No, that’s perfect! “Negative, Commander,” he replied. “Out.” He breathed a sigh of relief – well, that could’ve gone a lot worse. Now to backtrack on my notes. Adam grabbed another sheet from the stack, and borrowed Antir’s notes already taken, to jog his memory. First was the sexes – he noted their symbols first – their definitions, which one he was. . . then after a thought, added which Antir was as well. Then a rudimentary sketch of Antir’s family, and his own, and which they were. She noted very carefully the trajectory of Zodiac-Altair, but failed to realize that they went through a wormhole and did not land on a moon. That’s something I’ll have to work on. Then populations were noted – fifty aboard Zodiac-Altair, six billion (give or take) on Earth, then thirty million whatever on Rhysling. Rather large number for one nation, he noted in the margin. And just like that, their notes were in sync.
Not to mention he made it to the end of his sheet as well. Adam started to roll it up for later, but then Antir grabbed it out of his hand, affixed a red band in the middle, then set it right back in his hand. That was nice of her. Adam smiled and nodded his head, once and deeply. So what’s next for us, Antir? He popped open a pouch, to see if it could contain the scroll. Thankfully, it did.
Her stomach answered his previous thought – a low grumbling penetrated even his suit. Guess it’s time for lunch for you. Antir seemed to think so – she got back up on her hooves, and disappeared through another doorway.
Adam couldn’t help but follow behind her. As it turns out, this tree was outfitted with a kitchen. Why’s that? Looking up, he saw some furniture in a loft, including a bed. She must be the librarian living and working here full-time. The dragon was not in here. Do they not eat at this time?
And then he walked in, with a small bowl of colored stone-like objects within. Adam saw how they glittered in the light – are those cut crystals? And Antir doesn’t even bat an eye. Adam had to contain his excitement – this could be the foundation of a valuable line of trade! I’ll have to let Zodiac-Altair know about this, when I get back. A trip back to Earth would take a while – a few years – but the commercial motive. . . ! But for all of his efforts to conceal his gaze, the dragon spotted it anyway – and, amazingly, offered him one.
Adam took it from the dragon’s claws, and looked it over with a critical eye, carefully turning it over and over in his suit’s gloves. It was a brilliant, fiery red, not a flaw within its body, and expertly cut in a rectangular shape. He popped open another pouch, and slipped the gemstone within. As he clicked it shut, the dragon gave him a look as if Adam didn’t really know what he was supposed to do with it. Adam fired back with a look that said Alright wise guy, what do you do with them?
To his great surprise, the dragon opened its mouth, and ate these gemstones. Oh, that’s just excellent – now we’re competing with the Indigenous for demand. Better strike a balance in trade negotiations. At least there aren’t any Indigenous made of these crystals.
Antir was busy making herself. . . huh, a sandwich. Two slices of some sort of bread, and between them thick leaves and some flowers, served upon a ceramic plate. Those remind me of daisies. Maybe the biologists can tell me more later on – or Antir, even, once I break down this pesky language barrier. But then, that’s what they sent me for, isn’t it?
She turned around and seemed to be surprised to see Adam leaning over her shoulder. She looked at the sandwich, then peeled back the top breadslice to show him the leaves and flowers. Yep, not a bad job there. After closing it, she opened her mouth and took a bite from it. Chewing for a moment, she suddenly stopped, eyes starkly open. Something wrong, Antir? She gestured Adam and the dragon into the central room. The dragon let out a [ɹiˈɣě ɑnɑˈmu].
[iltem̥elˈɸɯ] she replied, sitting in front of the pile of books, sandwich by her side, still on the plate. In her telekinesis, she grabbed the biology book again, and after some furious page-turning, put the book down on a collection of skulls. No, not skulls – their jaws. Rhysling apparently had quite the biodiversity, with herbivores, carnivores, and omnivores alike interacting with one another – and of course, geophages like the dragon. Now that’s a five-dollar word.
With the chalk, she pointed at herself, then at the picture of the skull full of flat grinding molars. She opened her mouth, wide, so Adam could see for himself. Yep, lots of molars, and very few incisors to be found. Perfectly suited for the sandwich right there. Then she pointed at the dragon, then the skull full of sharp, remarkably dense teeth. The dragon opened its mouth, showing how it had just that layout described. Adam could note small bits of crystalline dust between the gaps. Rock picks for teeth – now I’ve seen everything!
Antir tapped the chalk on his suit, then hovered it over the page. Hmmm. . . which one’s the omnivore? Adam had to take a closer look at the page. None of them looked remotely like what he would expect an omnivore would have. He turned the page – oh, there’s more skulls! Another moment, and he tapped the picture of a skull with canines in the front and molars in the back – there aren’t any like ours, so that’s as good as it gets. He tapped his chest, then the picture again, just to be sure. Then, facing the unicorn, he swung his jaw open, spreading his lips, to show what his teeth really looked like. Neither Antir nor the dragon seemed particularly disturbed. Do they get sentient carnivores in town from time to time? Adam wondered. Haven’t seen any cuts of meat at the market here – lack of demand, or local law?
Still holding onto the book, he reached for a second sheet of paper, while Antir and the dragon were having lunch, and he started copying down the skulls from the book. Of course he wasn’t as good of an artist as whoëver illustrated this book, but he gave it his best shot, getting down the important details, even annotating in English just to remind himself later on. Now I wonder – do these jaws influence their languages? Adam thought. Well, the dragon seemed to know the same language as Antir – despite coming from radically different species. Will I have any luck here, decoding and replicating their speech?
Antir then closed that book in her telekinesis. Aw, I was just getting started, Adam wanted to complain – then she pulled out what looked like an atlas. The front page had a physical map of Rhysling, with all its rivers, mountains, oceans and landmasses, all represented on a projection that barely distorted from the global view he got from orbit. At least, as far as I can tell, he surmised. The next page was the same, but was now carved up into clearly political territories. My God, there’s so many of them. . . I’ve got my work cut out for me, don’t I? She used the chalk as a pointer, and lightly tapped the largest of these nation-states. She pointed it at herself, the dragon, and Adam, and again at that nation-state. So that’s where we are? Compared to the Soviet Union. . . that thing’s huge! What sort of militaristic conquests enabled such expansion? Whatever it is, I don’t think this suit’s built for withstanding it. That thought sent a shiver down his spine – a breach now would jeopardize everything, not just himself.
Next, Antir flipped the atlas open into a projection of just her nation-state. She pointed at herself and the dragon, then to a large fortress in a central mountain range. Then she tapped her hoof on the wooden floor, and pointed to a settlement near that mountain, in the middle of a dried-up basin north of a large forest. Oh, they’re not locals either. They moved here at some point. Of all the things I could ask her. . . where do I even begin? Adam sighed slightly. At least I won’t be alone in feeling like an outsider – even if they have the benefit of a common nation.
More page flipping happened. Antir eventually arrived at a map of the town. Just what I needed! But before Adam could grab a sheet of paper to copy it down, Antir snatched it away – then handed him another scroll. The green band was easily undone, and the scroll unfurled into a map of the settlement, from a bird’s eye view, complete with a compass rose pointing where he determined to be north, so he can easily traverse the streets by himself, even back to TPRU-1 as needed. Seeing that Adam was already looking at it intensely, she took the quill and made a small mark in the north-north-west extreme of the map. Adam pondered the significance of that location, but then she put down ADAM below the mark. Oh, that’s the lander’s location. Gotcha. Adam smiled, then rolled the map back up, retied the band, then slipped it inside a pouch. I’ll definitely need it for the walk back to the lander. And perhaps even back here at the library, if I need to. Thank you, Antir.
Next, she put away the atlas, then pulled out what looked like a children’s book. Seriously? Well, I guess I gotta start with the basics in their society. The first page was a normal, everyday setting in a place like. . . whatever this place is called. Did Louis forget to give it a name? Does he know other settlements exist like it? Whatever, I’ll think about that later. Here were ponies of every shade and hue of every color he could think of – and quite a few gray ones. Does their visible spectrum extend beyond ours? Or is color expression an allele? These ponies, just like in this town, were hard at work with various jobs – smithing, selling, woodcutting, stonecutting, milling – just to name the ones that caught his eye. And in the margins, the page was wreathed with text in their script. I definitely will have to learn how to read that at some point.
She let him turn the page, while she finished her lunch, and the next was a double-page view of a farm, once again annotated in the margins. A farm! A surefire way to get a lay of their diet. True to Antir’s dental structure, most of what the farm had were plants, grown in a set order – as the massive orchard in the background demonstrated well. Closer to the foreground, he noted large grasses grown until they ripened into a golden yellow – I’m guessing that’s some sort of grain for the mill. Then he noticed what looked like chickens in a pen, surrounding a coop. So they do eat meat after all? Adam had to ponder. But their teeth aren’t adapted for it – nor, I’m sure, are their digestive tracts. Do they cook their like we do? But then he saw one pony carrying a basket full of what he assumed to be their eggs into a nearby dwelling. Oh. I guess that makes sense. But do they refrigerate theirs? I know we Americans do, but I’ve heard the British don’t. A cutaway of the barn showed that it was mostly for storage of less-perishable goods, like threshed grains and such – but on one side were bovine analogues, with a pony somehow milking them. On one hand, I’m not surprised – but on the other, I have to wonder how they manage such a grip. There was a surprising amount for Adam to unpack, and it was some time before he turned the page again.
The next two pages were of a larger city, built almost entirely out of stone and metal, so far as he could tell. Out of the edge of his helmet, Adam saw Antir pull the atlas back out, then open it back open to the page of her nation-state. She circled the children’s book with the chalk in the air, then tapped the mountain fortress in the atlas. Oh! Must be a pretty important place for them to dedicate this much to one city. Adam took another look at the spread. On second thought, he realized, this isn’t a fortress at all – or if it was built as one, it isn’t anymore now. No, instead this could be considered one of the more élite places in their society – he certainly didn’t see anyone of their likes on his way to the library. He guessed they’d be too snobbish to interact with them. But Antir said she came from here, Adam remembered. Was she appointed here by some sort of decree? Was that why she moved? The library, however – maybe she’s working undercover?
The next two-page spread surprised him. The inside was apparently a massive, lavish palace, but the image bleed suggested it was actually still part of the previous scene. Oh, so it is a fortress, he realized. It just doubles as a powerful city because of its regal prestige. At least, I think it’s regal. What else could it be? The hallways were littered with palace staff here and there, such as servants, cooks, guards, groundskeepers, and more. Chambers with various functions essentially ensured that the palace could function autonomously if it ever fell under siege. And I’m sure they have at least a few times, Adam thought. And there, in the grandest chamber in the rear of the palace, was their leader. Lord? King? Emperor? Clearly it had some sort of leadership role, what with its crown, peytral, and shoes all made from gold. It was a tall one, very tall, even when seated on its daïs, with fur of white and hair that reminded him of the aurora borealis. There it sat, speaking with another equine – one who seemed to have petitioned even to enter this chamber – over some matter he could not discern. Probably not important for the illustration. Then a thought gave him pause. I don’t see a dungeon anywhere in the palace, he noticed. Strange, then, that I see guards and other peacekeepers here. Will that change on the next page?
He decided to find out. The next spread not only did not answer that query, it even further astounded him. A city! High in the sky! Made entirely from clouds! He had to look away from the book, and cast his gaze upon the ceiling. He found he was breathing heavily, on the verge of hyperventilation. What sort of technology do they have that lets them do this? And what else could they do with it? Why, they could’ve contacted us first, but I think I recall them showing no signs of space technology. He looked to Antir. What is your line of thinking? Of course she didn’t answer, so Adam had to draw his own conclusions from the image. Just as he saw on his way here to the library, the pegasi were working with the clouds as if it was solid and tangible material. Apart from the architectural styles, it wasn’t terribly different from the town or the city. Well, that was almost true. There was one glaring exception – out of one large cloud-clad building, there poured a steady stream of some sort of iridescent liquid, one that looked almost like a rainbow. Maybe that’s their claim to fame? he pondered. Or just a local legend? Actually. . . where is it? I didn’t see anything like it on the way down. But then, maybe it was just too dark. . . . He turned the page.
To his surprise, the next page spread was the inside of that very building. Wait, what in the actual. . . weather industrialization? Seriously? They just manufacture rainbows here? Indeed, this seemed to be the case – and not just rainbows, either. Here were stored up supplies for all manner of weather that wasn’t direct sunlight. Mint-like machines stamped out snowflakes from sheets of ice, though in a way that made it look natural. At least, natural back on Earth. A cutout of a foreman’s office – foreman? Is that the right word? – showed a large table of details on the wall. Wait, not a table. Adam’s eyes went wide. A calendar! Finally, I’ve got a good idea of what a local year is like! What’s more, a zoom-in of that calendar showed icons depicting weather statuses. With all that I have seen inside the factory, and coupled with their technology, they’ve achieved what has taken us decades to fail to do – manipulate the weather!
So where the Devil is that cloud-city, anyway? And why didn’t it show up from orbit? Adam had to get up to look, book still in his hand. There was a window behind him on the wall, next to a bookshelf – though the view to the outside left a lot to be desired. So he cracked open the door, ducking down so he wouldn’t hit his head on the frame, then stepping outside, leaned himself back to get a better view of the sky. Okay, where can I find a bunch of pouring liquid rainbows? Surely they have to go somewhere. . . . Yet there wasn’t any obvious sign. Antir then came up from behind him, and in her telekinetic grasp tugged the book down. Seeing the cloud city, she went around to the ‘rear’ of the tree, gesturing for Adam to follow. When he got a view of what laid beyond, she pointed in the sky towards a mountain range. Adam tilted back, and saw it. There it is! And no wonder I couldn’t find the rainbow-fall – apparently it started dissipating into the air partway down. Probably for the best – last thing they want is to douse the local water supply if that’s a migrating city.
That city wasn’t the only thing he noticed about the view. Oh hey, up in the mountain! That’s the fortress, isn’t it? And the city attached to it? He flipped back to the city pages, then after tapping Antir’s shoulder to get her attention, tapped the book, then pointed at the fortress. She nodded firmly. Yes! And that leader in the palace – just a few days away on foot to negotiate. I’ll have to figure out transportation at some point, preferably within the lifespan of the suit’s scrubbers. He closed the book and turned around to head back inside the library – and noticed that the sun was just starting to set over the western horizon. Have I been inside all day? Adam wondered. Has it been a full eight Earth hours since I got pulled from cryo? And even less time in the suit, too. I hope these scrubbers are working as advertised. He breathed deeply, to calm himself – well, that was counterproductive. He flipped up the display, just to be sure – sixty-nine percent remaining. Nice.
I think I’d better head back to the lander right now. God knows I can’t last out here forever. His stomach grumbled. And I should’ve had a larger breakfast this morning, too. Damn! And I suppose there’s no solution inside this suit, either. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask anyway. . . . “Zulu-Alfa, this is Somerset,” he opened on the radio. “Is there any solution for. . . ingesting inside the suit? Not an emergency, just wondering. Over.”
A moment passed. They’re probably busy right now, Adam surmised. Probably with their own dinner in Zodiac’s galley too, I’ll bet! But he didn’t have much time to mull over that – “This is Zulu-Alfa,” Anton radioed back. Not Louis? Strange. “It is possible, but it must be done before stepping in. The cargo manifest contains nutrient sticks you can insert in the helmet, but you will have to suffer through it if you did not think it ahead. Out.”
Well, son of a bitch. And I know eating anything local would break isolation. Adam sighed. Just like back in my college days. . . . The sun was really starting to set over the horizon, lighting the sky on fire in red and yellow. Man, the day really goes by fast. I’m not sure if I can fully adjust to the new sleep schedule. He started back to the lander, but suddenly found his left leg couldn’t move. Turning to see, he found Antir’s telekinetic grasp wrapped firmly around his leg. Great. How do I sign my problem to her? He shook his head at her, then mimed with his hand a utensil shoveling food into his open mouth, then pointed away from the tree and, hopefully, to the lander. He handed the children’s book back to her as well. Don’t exactly have the authority to take this back with me.
But Antir was not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Instead, she shifted her grip up to both of his arms, and dragged him back inside the library. Inside, Adam saw the dragon snickering to itself. Yeah yeah, laugh it up, scales. You’re not the one being kept prisoner inside a library. She stopped him dragging his feet on the wooden floor just in front of the books again, and gave him back the children’s book. Guess I’m not getting out of this one, am I? He sighed, loudly. Here you are Adam, one of the greatest minds of your generation, the first to set foot on Rhysling, now completely at the mercy of a tiny purple unicorn. Way to go.
Seeing how he hesitated, the unicorn took the cover in her telekinetic grip and flipped the book open back into the so-called ‘weather factory.’ Meh, been there, done that. There wasn’t anything new he could find on those pages, so he turned the page and moved on.
The next page spread was surprising. It’s just like out of Gunsmoke! he thought. Here was a typical western scene, with wooden buildings, each looking like they were built within a day. Actually, the whole town looks like it was built in a week. What’s this here, a mine? A spring? Then a thought crossed him. No. . . is it some sort of penal colony? Does explain the lack of jails I’ve seen in the other pages. But even were that the case, the inhabitants seemed to have eked out a life all of their own, in spite of the surrounding environment. Like their own Australia, in a way. Then he saw some large bison-like creatures in the scene – and they looked like they were talking to some of the ponies, which further led credence to the penal-colony hypothesis. They were there first, Adam surmised, and the equines have just taken over their land. I hope they get along well. But where is it, exactly? Adam tapped the western scene, then tapped the cover of the atlas. Antir opened it, then pointed with the chalk at a settlement within a desert band south of the large forest. Though it looks like it’s still connected to a major pathway of some sort, he noticed. Are sentences short, or was I wrong about the penal colony? He nodded all the same, and she shut the atlas. Adam turned the page in his book.
The final pages were just repeats of all the previous pages, each with certain items highlighted. Oh, this must be like an I Spy book, and this is the answer key. Well, that should be helpful to construct a lexicon – though good luck comparing it to English. And that was the end of the book. Adam set it down, then turned to Antir. Am I free to go now? he wanted to ask.
The answer, as it turned out, was ‘no’ – her telekinetic grasp picked up another children’s book, and shoved it into Adam’s hand. Great, now what’s this? He opened the book, and saw it looked like a typical day in the life of a pony. The first page introduced the pony in question – gray-furred with a light red mane and tail, both moderately well-kept, but no wings or horns. Nor the advantages of either of those. It also had a flank-symbol, this one of a scroll, suggesting a job involving literature, or a notary. Or maybe it was just representative of being the book’s protagonist itself. This is just how ponies live, he concluded, as frankly as possible. He turned the page and started browsing.
The first two-page spread showed that very same pony grabbing a meal from the kitchen, one consisting of some toasted bread topped with. . . something he couldn’t identify, cooked eggs, fresh fruit, and a glass of what looked like milk. Good way to start the day off right. Through a window, he saw the sun rising over the horizon – that’s got to be the east – and, surprisingly, in the upper-right corner, he found a clock. This he paid close attention to – apparently the day was divided into six segments of equal proportion, and each of those were divided into six more. Six by six – that’s thirty-six. They must be on their own form of decimal time – or senary time, if I may. The clock had two hands, both of different lengths and shapes. A small, thick hand was pointed at what he knew to be the ‘1:00’ position on an Earth-bound clock, and a long, thin hand pointed directly downward. So half past the top hour. Sure, makes sense, why not? There was a good deal of text at the bottom of the picture. That’s probably describing what the pony’s doing at that time, and maybe what it’ll do on that day. Well, only one way to find out. He turned the page.
The next two-page spread was of the town’s shops, much like the ones he passed by on the way to the library. Though I don’t think there’s an actual library here. Oh well. There was another clock in the upper-right corner, this time showing 4:00 – or 2:00, rather – in the morning. So does the AM/PM transition happen during sunrise and sunset, or am I missing something here? But that’s not the point of the scene – his eyes fell upon another two smiths on opposite sides of the spread. One was forging a metal chain of sorts – interesting to see done by hooves and mouths – and another, a farrier, was doing horseshoes. Just horseshoes, too. Right – even though those have to be forged in mass, they’re adjusted to order and nailed directly onto the hoof. Gotta be a specialist in the trade. Between them was a woodcarving workshop – most of the wares were just boards and beams cut from a solid log – and it looked like they were getting a new log in. A woodworker’s work is never done, it seems. He ignored the text at the bottom and turned the page.
The next section showed exactly what the nameless protagonist did for a living – it delivered mail to the other equines in the town. So the scroll marking is because of both, Adam surmised. He’s the main character of this book, and a postal worker. Sure, that makes sense. Probably. The clock on the page showed that he was just getting started with his shift – 2:30 AM local. Not to mention that their version of ‘clockwise’ lines up with ours, he noted. Their postal system worked about as he expected – equines deposited enclosed letters in the metal boxes that Adam had noticed on his way through town, then the couriers collected their contents and slipped them in a bag. He thought it strange that no mail was being delivered at this time; that, for now, only collecting was happening. I wonder if there’s a system for that: collecting now, and delivering later. An inset in the picture showed what the outer appearance of a letter looked like – it was sealed with a stamped dollop of melted wax in the middle, flanked by what appeared to be postage stamps to its left and right, then text above and below. Addresses, I’ll reckon – but which is which? The book ‘helpfully’ pointed out each, but these of course remained to be translated. Until that’s done, I can’t be trusted to send a letter correctly.
After turning the page, he saw the inside of their post office, at their 3:00. Customers waited in line, each carrying either several letters by their sides or a large box on their backs. Might be the law here. At the front desk, the clerks processed their letters and packages, and the ponies paid for their postage. More letters demanded more postage, as did packages. And I’ll bet some of them are going a real long way. I wonder when someone will invent the telephone. That’ll be the day! But as tempted as Adam was to disrupt the local economy, he much preferred to let them figure it out themselves. But then, if they have teleportation technology like Antir here, Adam thought, why not just use it for everything? Is there a specific energy expenditure? Is there some sort of decree forbidding it? Is there something else I’m not accounting for? Adam put that thought aside – too many questions, not enough answers. Meanwhile, the book’s protagonist dipped into the rear of the office, its bag full of letters collected on its route. There, other collectors were sorting out letters by destination, and the protagonist was presumably going to join them there. He’s either running late, or he’s got a much longer route than the others. All those letters would be sent out with out-of-town couriers – the protagonist did not appear to be one such.
Turning the page again, Adam saw that, half an hour later, it was time for lunch. On this day, the protagonist decided to dine out at a restaurant. It took a table outside, and ordered something from a waiter. Some time later – demonstrated by another clock to be about eight ‘minutes’ – the protagonist got his order back: a mix of vegetables in a bowl, with something on the side and a glass of some sort of clear fluid. That must be water, Adam thought. The basis of life as we know it. This much we know from Einstein – atmospheric traces are impossible to fake. The other restaurant patrons were seated nearby outside, though he was sure some were inside as well. Then one of them caught his eye – an amalgam of at least two different animals. The front half was like an eagle, while the rear half was more feline. What kind of creature could that. . . a gryphon. Adam’s eyes widened at the prospect. Yes, that must be a gryphon. There’s no other explanation for that, no other word to fit the bill. Between unicorns, dragons, and gryphons, perhaps the high fantasy writers of old weren’t so far off the mark after all. But then, they couldn’t have counted on the imagination of so many engineers to make these findings a reality. And it was apparently eating meat – a fish with crossed-out eyes. Oh! So they’re no strangers to carnivores after all. But then, they must be a rarity of some sort. What else can be found here? Any gemstones like the dragon eats? He perused the scene, but came up emptyhanded. Either they’re also rare in this part of Rhysling, or they have literally expensive taste. Adam turned the page.
The dragon got up to leave the room, heading into the kitchen. Bored? Hungry? Fine by me – I’ll be fine on my own. Well, me and Antir.
He turned his attention back to the book. It was after lunchtime, and the protagonist resumed its duties at their 4:00. This time, a round of actual deliveries was happening. But that makes me wonder, what if something urgent needed to be sent as soon as possible? Are there private couriers? I haven’t seen any of those yet. Instead of stopping at the metal boxes, the protagonist went straight to the door, and delivered each letter by hoof. Some homes had mail-slots cut into the door; others, it had to knock. It had a single package to deliver, and it knocked on the door, despite a mail-slot being present. Probably to make sure it’s not intercepted, Adam assumed. Nothing too remarkable remained about the page – Adam figured that everything else about the trade was covered in the preceding pages, so he turned this one to move on.
The next page showed the protagonist shopping at the town’s market. Probably needs to restock on food, he thought. On all days, too! The market wasn’t terribly different from the one he passed through on his way to the library – the protagonist bought some bread and eggs. Anything perishable? Adam wondered. He flipped to the early morning scene. Yes, they have invented refrigeration as well. To keep the milk cold, perhaps the eggs if they wash them? He put that thought aside as well – no time to worry about little details like that. Focus! The answer just might be in front of your nose.
Antir’s stomach grumbled just as he was looking at the market scene. Again? But you just ate, didn’t you? She got up and went to the kitchen anyway. Adam’s stomach grumbled as well, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. If I try to sneak out now, she’ll probably hear the door open and intercept me before I could get a few meters out the door. Like it or not, he was stuck here. Curse you Antir, and your curiosity!
She came back out a moment later, with another sandwich. Did the dragon prepare that for you? That was nice of it. She sat back down, but this time in Adam’s lap. This is awkward was his first thought, but then he realized – maybe this is her way of pinning me here? Making sure I can’t get back up and leave? He tried it himself, but Antir’s weight just wouldn’t let him get up – she was sitting on his center of gravity. Clever girl. Giving up, he returned to the book. There wasn’t anything else he could note in the current scene that he thought was noteworthy – that, coupled with the fact that he was basically starving, convinced him to turn to the page right then.
It suddenly occurred to him that it was getting dark inside the library, and the dark coloring of the pages kept him from focusing. Looks like it’s after dark now, Adam realized. That’s, what, nine Earth hours? The darkness must have been bothering Antir as well, because she lit her horn – and in that instant, hidden lights were switched on. Not a gentle transition, either, suggesting candlelight – they were not, then suddenly, they were. Electricity? Most impressive, Antir.
Turning her head around, she could see the wonder in his eyes, but cocked her head in confusion. Adam took another look at the glowing lights. Despite being installed inside the wooden walls, and with an untold voltage flowing within them, the library did not seem about to go up in flames. I’m guessing either that, or the wood’s been treated, he figured. But then, what method did they use to ensure this tree remains alive, even now? But never mind that – now that it was light enough again for him to see the page, he took another look. Appropriately, it was just after nightfall, and the clock on the page was back at the 12:00 position. Ah, so they do transition AM/PM during sunrise and sunset, he concluded. And here, the protagonist was fixing himself his dinner. Using some of the bread and fruits he had bought that day, he had made himself a sandwich. Okay, maybe she’s not so special in that regard.
He turned the page in the book, both to see what else would come next, and to try to keep his mind busy. The next four scenes were placed on one page, the other one composing only a body of text. Adam tried interpreting them in the most ‘logical’ way he could – which is to say, left to right, then up to down, following English conventions. As it turned out, that seemed to be the correct order. Well, that was easy. First, the protagonist drew a bath for itself, relaxing in the tub for. . . some unspecified time. Adam realized that there weren’t any clocks on the page, so he would have to infer any assumptions as to the passage of time. Next, the protagonist started cleaning its teeth – again, just like us. Then it slipped on some clothing he hadn’t seen before. Pajamas, to be sure – but why? Wouldn’t they sleep standing up? Then it went into a bed, falling asleep. Huh, guess not. Good night, then. Hope it’s better than mine. He shut the book, setting it onto the ground.
But before Adam could contemplate escaping the library, before he could even stand back up, he looked down into his lap. Antir at some point had fallen asleep. He tried getting up again, but the slightest movement of his legs or waist elicited whining from her. He sighed – you win this round, little horsey. Guess I’m staying here for the night. Quietly, he flipped up the monitor on his chest – forty-nine percent scrubber capacity remaining. Okay, if I manage to fall asleep, I should conserve my breathing enough to live through the night. He quietly flipped the display back down, so as not to disturb her. Yeah. . . yeah, nothing for me to panic about.
Only trouble was, it wasn’t exactly comfortable inside a Strauss suit. He’d have to make do somehow. Carefully, he started leaning himself backwards, moving his legs as little as possible. She didn’t like it that much, but he needed his sleep, and no matter what, he was going to get exactly that.
The lights turned themselves off. On a timer, or a sensor? Or did she do that herself? He shrugged – his shoulders hitting the inner walls of the suit. At least it’ll be nice and dark. He closed his eyes, shifting his weight inside the torso. Somehow, all the equipment inside the backpack didn’t bother him all that much – he didn’t feel anything poking or prodding into his back. Guess things could be worse.
He slept at last.
–··–––
Adam didn’t remember dreaming that night. He fell asleep, and then he woke up in a matter of minutes to see the dawn’s light shining through the windows in the library. Well, more specifically, he woke up to an alarm he had never set. By reflex, he tried hitting the snooze button on the bedside table – then he remembered his alarm clock sounded nothing like this.
Antir could hear it too, apparently. She was looking at him, a look of worry on her face, as if to ask “Is everything okay, Adam?” Only one way to find out. He flipped up his chest display – fifteen percent remaining scrubber capacity.
Fifteen!?
“Shit!” Adam stood up with a start. He felt pins and needles in his legs, and the pangs of hunger in his stomach, but none of those compared to the urgency of running out of breathable air. He had to get back to TPRU-1, now!
Calm down, Adam, calm down. . . Adam knew that this was even less cause to squander the fifteen – no, fourteen percent remaining. He desperately searched his pouches, sure that he had a map from the day before – and found it in the third one. Unfurling it, and nearly tearing it in the process, he saw he had a very long walk. God help me. . . . He could barely hear himself think over the sound of the alarm blaring inside his suit.
Antir’s horn started to charge up. A teleportation spell? Adam frantically refused – I still don’t know what that does to me, and I’d rather not find out so soon. He took another look at the map – where he found his Hail Mary: the shortest path to out of town and to the lander was mostly a straight shot from the library – just turn right immediately out the door. There were a few more turns besides, but those weren’t until he left town. Or I could cut across the creek, if it’s shallow enough.
Okay, enough time wasted – let’s go already!