The transition from forest to city was not gradual. Stepping through the overgrown facade of the brush, Zallus found himself standing amidst the benches of a park, pavement more effluent than plant life. To his right, a sprinkler was lazily ticking an arc of mist across the trees, resetting to spray two children who, except for their illinguancy, would perfectly slot in amongst a group from Earth. Assuredly, if this was where he had first awoken, Zallus would have had a much tougher time accepting the premise that this world was any more than a few days from home; indeed, he thought, he would have assumed the sky itself some sort of trick.
Zackley, now back to leading Zallus and his untalkative friend along, turned and motioned to the surroundings. This,
he said, flailing about wildly, as if to stuff all of reality inside his chimpish sack, is not yet Mith. Although Mith isn't a good example of a U.G. city, it's pretty similar; everyone lives around the edges, and all the activities requiring groups or exchanges happen in the center. The line separating the two is really clear, too: the U.G. doesn't mind tearing down buildings, or kicking people out of their homes, if it means the city stays pretty….
Tope and Zackley then each said some very brief thing to one another. Are all your conversations that short, Zackley? I don't see how you could be very good friends if you don't ever say anything to one another,
Zallus continued walking as he talked, and the other two followed ahead. Or, have you known one another so long that there's nothing left to say?
Zackley looked amused. We say quite a bit, Mr. Zallus. When you're speaking in thoughts,
he said thoughtfully, it takes the same amount of time to say anything, long or short. Tope was asking me, actually, what I was saying to you that could take so long!
He chuckled, and nodded at Tope who laughed as well, implicit that Zackley had finished explaining his joke. He was kidding; Tope knows how long words take to say—Pearl can't speak thoughts at all, so I often must translate her speech to my friends, as I am doing with you.
You know,
Zackley mumbled, perhaps to himself, I enjoy speaking words. It feels much better to be able to say everything as you think it, in whatever order comes to mind, rather than having to keep your mouth shut until you're sure you have nothing more to add….
Zallus smiled, simply for the fact that Zackley, it seemed, had nothing more to add.
No longer engrossed in conversation, Zallus realized that they had already been passing various building s and objects for a few minutes. He had been zoning them out as if he passed it all every day; now, he decided, he would start acting, and thinking, like what he had eventfully become: a tourist.
The architecture of the buildings, for a start, was quite unique—as a group—but similar enough was each one to each other that it became boring, and then disquieting, after one had seen that all the streets continued on in this fashion for miles beyond and surrounding. It wasn't that the buildings had been built to a single design—each was shaped, sized, and featured separately—but that they all shared the same face; it was as if they were all different models sold in a single, very dull product catalogue. The general lack of wear or dirt on any surface hinted, but the soil freshly knitted with grass seeds confirmed: these houses, all of them, were brand-new; none could be more than a week old.1
But ignoring their similarities, a house here was an interesting sight. The material they were constructed from was shear, slightly reflective, and cool and glossy to the touch—the same material being used in the pavement, in the signs, and basically everywhere else Zallus cared to look. It came in a variety of colors, including metallic and mirror-like finishes, and also completely transparent sections that, nevertheless, were exactly the same in texture, and produced the same hollow, light echo on being rapped upon. Though the odd angles that the building walls adjoined at prevented immediate notice, it was clear from examination of the edges of the light-posts—whose light shone out of just another flat, sleek outcropping from the trunk of the pole—that this material was actually layered; there was a thin, glass-like outer shell, then a solid layer of unknown thickness that held the real color of the surface and, looking closely, had a faint grid of darkened lines running throughout it.
The houses were constructed completely from this material. The outer walls, roofs, and even the doors and windows all looked the same, felt the same, and, likely, tasted the same, too. The only discrepancy Zallus could notice was what he assumed was some sort of holographic sign post—a small, clearly unfinished metal cylinder, rounded at the top, with what could only be described as an animated letter perched atop it. The character itself remained the same, but rotated through three, and seemingly another, dimensions, changing in color and size all the while. Perhaps, Zallus thought, it was just a very eye-catching way of presenting a very simple message, something important for people to see: a warning, or a universe tourist information booth
marker. Perhaps it was just a flashy address.
Of the buildings, the architecture, too, was precisely foreign to Zallus' experience. There was no slanting of the roofs to dispel rain or snowfall, nor gutters; there was no obvious means of ventilation to the insides of the buildings—the windows were all undivided and flush to the wall on all sides, and no vents or fans were evident; moreover, and this was only noticed upon the closest inspection: the buildings had no foundation, but nor did they simply rest upon the ground. Each floated, seemingly effortless, about a single finger-width about the ground, with no supports. Zallus managed to pass a twig under and across the entire area of a small booth-like construct without impediment before Zackley noticed him and waved him to come forward.
You and Tope, together, should learn… your-his-
Zackley stuttered. Although his speech wasn't fluent, it had been improving. Either he was warming up, or he learned much more quickly than most. Regardless, the word was
-each-other's, Zackley.
Zallus interrupted.
-each other's stories. You and Tope should be friends, Mr. Zallus, like we are; you should know each other… better.
Sure, Zackley. I think Tope and I are already friends, but it can never hurt to know more about someone. Plus, I suppose, you don't know that much about me either, so you'll probably satisfy your own curiosity as well….
Zallus figured that this was Zackley's real motivation.
Ah! Alright, Mr. Zallus, Tope. I will translate. You should start first, I think. When you're ready….
Hm. Okay.
Zallus cleared his throat, hooked his hands into the pockets of his long coat, and began.
My name is Zallus Kanite. I was born on a little farm outside a village called Dolea—that's in the western region of Teksa, on a planet called Earth. I don't know how old I am now because I don't remember anything after I was 15—and I'm definitely not 15,
Zallus said, pulling his hands back out of his pockets and slowly turning them around and over as he inspected them. He waited a moment for Zackley to start translating, then cocked his head at him when he didn't.
Zackley?
Yes, Mr. Zallus?
Zackley turned having stayed until now at the front of the group as they walked. Oh… oh! I don't need to talk until you're absolutely done; don't worry, I will not forget a word,
he said, vigorously nodding.
"I see. Well… I like nature—the peacefulness of it, but also the sort of natural order of destructive chaos that somehow ensures continued organization in the long-term. It's cool that we're able to decide to co-operate because we were originally so competitive that we needed to evolve intelligence to get the upper hand.
And people—I love people. Good people, bad
, it's all just so different—everyone's unique in so many ways from everyone else, and it just amazes me. I mean, there's no such thing as a bad person—or a bad anything—it's just differences. Ways people are special. Tope," Zallus turned from Zackley to say, how would you say you're special?
Tope met Zallus' eyes, but looked confused. Zackley narrowed his, looking inquisitive rather than annoyed, and said, Zallus, you should finish! If you say everything you need, I can repeat it all in a single word; if you insist on Tope and you exchanging short phrases, it will be much slower, and I may get distracted and miss something amongst having to say so many little things.
Zallus turned back, looking amused in the way a cat might toward its toy mouse. We're supposed to be getting to know one another, Zackley. People can write books back and forth, and still not know a single true thing about the other if they can't see their reactions to what they're saying. You don't say words to get more words in response, Zackley,
Zallus slanted his head down and his eyes up, looking slightly devious; you say them to provoke an action. Words without action are lies.
Please, Zackley.
Zallus removed his devilish posture, but remained intent.
Zackley stopped walking. They were now at an intersection that seemed to actually have new and different features than the dozen-or-so through which they had just passed. The buildings, rather than being plain or simply textured with the sort of flat, ethereal inner wallpaper that Zallus had seen them hold so far, were adorned with symbols similar to, but different in seemingly countless ways from, the one that had lit upon the conspicuous pole. Pointing to one of the symbols, scrolling by as on a marquee, Zackley announced, they've rerouted a lot of traffic northward… there's a storm scheduled for tonight… and the military is recruiting, like always. Honestly, I don't know why I read the main feeds…. Anyway. It's near; I have said that twice, but I now mean it; and… yes, Zallus. I'll ask.
Zackley and Tope exchanged, and then Tope reclined his head upward in apparent thought, giving Zallus a moment to look across the intersection and see, staring directly back, a woman with grey eyes, steeled in fear but also showing indignation. When she noticed his attention, she spun sharply away, and stood tense, almost frozen. As Zackley turned to cross the street, he seemed to notice her as well, but ignored her and continued across, the other two proceeding behind him to end up kiddy-corner from her.
When the group started again, now away down a side-street, Zallus noticed her pause, indecisive, for a moment before breaking into a sort of half-jogging stride, looking to both run away and intend to avoid appearing that she was running away. Zallus thought to ask about her, but Zackley interrupted him.
Tope
I think I am different because I chose to be an adventurer without any outside help. All the people here think the same way; I was raised the same as them, but I found a different path.
says. Tope also That is a very strange question, and you are a very interesting person yourself for asking it.
wants to tell you.
Zallus paced forward so that he was walking in front of Tope, then turned, halted, and beamed at him. Then, his deviant expression returned. Tope,
Zallus said, pretending to speak directly to him, "that was a fine response. I'm not being clear, though.
You aren't your society. Pretend for a moment that this, none of this," Zallus motioned to a nearby building, was here; that each of us lived all alone on little desert islands, and there was no such thing as
society.
That you didn't even know other people existed. How would you, personally, be off the average? What would happen on only your island?
Zackley raised his eyebrows and walked in silence, looking to be working at rephrasing Zallus' question. He opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to realize where he was, and stopped. We're here, Zallus. Come in.