Becoming
"The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves become our myths; our myths become our truths; and our truths shape our history."
What we know of our history is clouded by the oft-mistaken sense that what happened should have happened, made sense that it happened, was fitting, was proper. The doers did what was only natural and right, and they left us the society we inherited as a matter of course and record. Senzen α`Zatlan never cared much for history, and in my experience, didn’t think of it for a moment. He thought about the now, and he thought about it in a way no one else did, saw circumstances with a widely divergent eye. Controversial didn’t begin to touch the way the establishment viewed Senzen α`Zatlan and his ideas. And the rules he broke changed the history of the world forever. Still the history that has begun to be told has painted Senzen in a light none of his contemporaries would have predicted. A hero? A visionary? They wouldn’t have believed that those words could have been paired with the mad scientist they knew. Senzen α`Zatlan above all else was a rulebreaker, and despite what history says about the way things are now and will be in the future, he didn’t know any better than anyone else. Senzen was just bolder.
Back then, we didn’t even know the planet as `Haia α`Ka, and we hadn’t established a protectorate Sul, named for the star the blue water-world encircled. To us, it was a study site, though a most curious one to be sure. Our kind had always been searching for life, and in our millions of years in the stars, we had found life in such diverse forms, it was a rarity to be surprised by any of the ingenious ways that magical force of nature altered the physical universe. Never, though, had we found a single site where such a diversity of life flourished in such awe-inspiring and surprising ways. At the base of everything, was a range of bacterial growth that astounded with its tolerances to shifts in temperature and environmental chemistry. Bacteria of all kinds were everywhere. But that could go unnoticed with the other kinds of life at the macroscale, in plain sight.
Fungus grew everywhere. Algae and plants filled the waters. And at some point in the distant past, the plants had climbed out of the water and onto the land. There, they covered each of the major continents, and the plants themselves diversified in size and shape, from the tiniest ground-covering leafy grasses to some of the sturdiest, most enormous organisms our species had ever encountered. These large, sturdy plants themselves diversified into thousands of species, casting shade on the ground beneath as they soaked up starlight and made energy of it, pulling carbon from the air to fortify their immense backbones.
Even the variety and impressive nature of the plant life on this rocky little planet couldn’t rival the vast array of animals. Vertebrates, invertebrates. Land-dwellers, marine life, marine-dwelling air breathers. The planet teemed with insects, reptiles, and even warm-blooded, egg-laying, feathered creatures who’d evolved a most ingenious manner of soaring through the atmosphere on their light, feathery wings. In every direction there seemed a miracle of evolutionary genius, and from such a young planet. This place was truly unique in the galaxy, perhaps even the universe. No known life-bearing planet overflowed with such an abundant life-cycle. It was our natural desire to study such a planet in detail.
Senzen α`Zatlan was among the earliest geneticists dispatched to the site. He was tasked with a feasibility report for adapting our genetic structure so that our kind might breathe the same atmosphere as the creatures of the planet. The high oxygen concentration, toxic as it was to us, was the chief factor our biologists attributed for the shockingly rapid pace of evolutionary shifts here. The oxygen levels in the atmosphere were so high, many of our scientists found it remarkable that the planet wasn’t one gigantic ball of fire, and true, at times, small tracts of the lands did burst into flames. That same alacrity of chemical energy transfer was what made this place uniquely alive, almost sacredly living.
Though he agreed with that assessment, from the outset, Senzen disagreed with the sentiment that evolution was on overdrive here.
In short order after his arrival, Senzen had identified three species of animals he deemed proto-intelligent, even one that was developing a kind of auditory language, and there were many sub-species of each. Only one, though, Senzen hypothesized, would ever reach a threshold of intelligence that could see them crossing over the technological barrier into a space-faring species. Even at the breakneck pace of evolutionary growth on this world, though, that transition was still millions of years away, and the volcanic volatility and meteor-rich star system made the chance of that transition happening before an extinction event vanishingly small. At that time, though, our intervention was strictly prohibited.
Senzen α`Zatlan resolved to ensure this species of mammalian primates were set on a pathway to evolutionary ascendancy before either the hazards of the planet’s own volatile geology or a world-killing strike from space decimated this miraculous little world. It was defenseless against either threat, and, in Senzen’s opinion, too valuable a learning ground to be allowed to perish. His earliest field notes reflected this.
I first set eyes on Senzen at the Commissariat’s counsel on the fate of the rocky, watery world. Though I had been well immersed in the bureaucracy of the Commissariat, I was inexperienced as a field observer, so I was slightly in awe of a researcher of Senzen’s caliber. He exuded confidence in all his proclamations. The ranking members, all remotely communicating from distant sectors of the galaxy, had their imposing visages projected above the testimonial port, which itself was at the base of a small amphitheater whose structure was designed to impart a sense of powerlessness to the speaker. “The hedge pit,” as it was often called by those who testified, was the worst place in all the galaxy to be untruthful, uncertain, or unqualified. Senzen’s posture and manner exuded none of those things. He stated certainly that, after examining all the genetics of each proto-intelligent species, the bipedal, ape-like hominids of the great grass plains bore genetic traits that we could mimic with very little loss to our own cognitive function and sense of self. In return, we would be able to breathe the atmosphere and even digest much of the plant and animal matter to sustain ourselves. He strongly suggested adopting such a posture, making the case for imbedding our researchers as residents, living observers who could track the progress of a wide variety of interesting species as well as their evolution over time. This proposal was almost universally well received.
His next proposal was universally decried as reckless, irresponsible, and almost heretical.
“You would have us lift the hominids we are modeling ourselves after?” the Commissariat asked. “Move their evolution to our will?”
“I would ask you, honorable members, what it would mean to fail to do so? This world, rich in life as it is, remains un-sentient, completely incapable of defending itself or preserving the precious unique properties we value so highly. She lacks a guardian at present, and given the tumult embedded in the geological and fossil records it is an all but mathematical certainty the one species possessing the potential to shield this world from its internal and external threats will not rise to protect her on their own. If we fail to act, intelligent life may never rise to protect her at all.”
“What you propose, Senzen α`Zatlan, breaches so many ethical guidelines it is difficult to imagine you would even propose such a course of action,” the Commissariat said, the discomfort of the researchers gathered in the amphitheater around Senzen was palpable, as was the unanimous agreement when the Commissariat spoke. “Our guidelines, set down over millions of years, forbidding such actions, have been put in place to prevent our researchers from making egregious errors in judgement, for science is about learning what is and what will be in the universe, not about how we can make it as we would have it be.”
Senzen grew passionate in a way our kind rarely does. “Speak to me then of the ethics of a single inanimate stone. Should I not care whether it is broken in half? Is such an action a mistake in judgment if you make it? If it is true that it matters not whether this stone remain whole, then why do either thing, leave it as is, smash it into a thousand pieces, the stone cares not. But if it is true that we value life as a force for good in the universe, then how can we stand by idly and watch a planet, that is clearly a cauldron brimming with it, be snuffed out by inanimate forces when it is within our power to foster a species that can serve as protector of this world? Otherwise, why should you care if we smashed this planet into a thousand lifeless pieces?”
“Our guidelines do value the protection of life, as you say, Senzen, but it is not for us to select which species live or die.”
“Then choose all, for by selecting the one that can protect the others, we ensure the continuity of life by bringing them to self-awareness. I propose making them stewards of their own world.”
“Highly irregular,” several of the glowing visages said, echoing each other almost in unison.
“Then if not them,” Senzen said, “we should study self-awareness itself by raising the others. They lack the physical capacity to craft tools and shall never be able to build a technological society. I propose we encourage the intellectual growth of the four-legged giants of the great grasslands and the cold plains to the north, as well as the air-breathing mammals of the oceans. That way we can map out a possible course of genetic growth for the hominids who could grow to self-awareness in a distant future. What harm could come of giving the gifts of long-term memory, language, and discernment to species that are fated to be eternally bound to their planet?”
Shocked as the observers were at how radical Senzen α`Zatlan’s proposals were, there was a sense in the room that there was some true thought behind them, surprising as these concepts were.
The Commissariat broke protocol for the first time in living memory, issuing no ruling. Weeks passed and it was speculated that the ideas Senzen α`Zatlan had proposed were being heavily considered rather than dismissed outright as everyone suspected they would be. Finally, a ruling came back that the planet did indeed require a protectorate as Senzen had suggested. If we valued life, as we claimed as a first principle, we should ensure its continuity. However, it was not for us to raise a species capable of technological progression to self-consciousness. That was a bridge too far. Though Senzen would not be permitted to alter the hominids, the Commissariat would accept a proposal that outlined the progressive enhancement of the grazing giants and the air-breathing mammals of the oceans, two species each.
To my surprise, being a mere functionary of middling rank, I, Hudal α`Tat, was assigned to review Senzen’s work.
For the first several years of the program, I didn’t see Senzen himself or even meet him. I only reviewed the genetic survey reports Senzen and his researchers were producing. I was hardly a top geneticist, but I knew enough to find the scope of their data impressive. They focused on sampling as many living species as they could find—plant, animal, or fungus—with the goal of tracing back a genetic ancestry for the living species, and even more importantly for us, they marked genetic changes as a map for changes in traits, physical characteristics, and biological makeup. In short order, Senzen α`Zatlan was recommending changes for the resettling researchers based on these findings. Soon, our kind would be relocating to the planet on a long-term basis, and Senzen was confident that his program of genetic alterations could make the environment a tolerable one for our kind.
Resettling on a new world like this was not unprecedented for our species, adapted to space as we’d become over the eons, but it was a rare occurrence with few reference points. Each resettlement had seen complications that had forced such projects to become shorter-term than originally intended. Though these cases weren’t in the memory of any living being under the Commissariat, our history recorded that it had been far more difficult to re-adapt to terrestrial living again than our ancestors had anticipated. Over the ages, we had become permanent space dwellers. Senzen was certain he could write us back a place here on this fiery ball of life.
Though the work his team was doing seemed promising and was proceeding at a shocking speed, I admit, I had my doubts. That is, until I finally met Senzen. He had been recalled to the research hub on the long, far-flung continent on the southern hemisphere in the collection of labs our researchers had dubbed Daral Sul.
I had just divested of my space suit and was acclimating to the environmentally controlled hub. The weight of the world was exhausting even with chemical and nano-technological countermeasures coursing through my bloodstream. On the other side of the glass outside the airlock, Senzen came striding into the building as though he’d been made to it. The sight was awe-inspiring for me. That atmosphere, which would have drowned me to death in a matter of a few breaths, Senzen was sucking it in without a thought for it. His back was straight and tall, like the sturdy bipeds of this world, his eyes locked forward confidently on their destination. He disappeared into the airlock for a few moments while the motors hummed and hissed, and soon he re-emerged on my side of the lock, now breathing our air as confidently as he’d processed the outside atmosphere.
“I see you have made considerable progress,” I said, lifting my head to meet Senzen’s eyes.
They were different, those eyes. They had white around the cornea and a ring of color. His bones were thicker and sturdy, and his musculature was far too powerful for him to still be mistaken for one of our own. His face was narrower, almost alien, and the pigment of his skin, though darker, had lost almost all color but a dull greenish brown hue. Two small nostrils had appeared above his contracted lips.
“Hudal α`Tat,” Senzen said, “we are both honored and grateful for your presence.”
“I was unaware you knew of me,” I said.
“Of course we know of you. You have been generous but fair in your assessment of our work thus far. It is why we requested you above all others to oversee these upcoming critical phases of the project.”
“I am flattered,” I said.
“The gravity will take some getting used to, but we will see to it that you are started immediately on the acclimation protocol. You have committed to being on Sul with us for the near future?”
“It is the most exciting work our kind has done in generations. How could I not?”
“See,” Senzen said, “this is why we requested you. The spirit of discovery is alive in you, Hudal α`Tat! It is rare to find a scholar with a taste for adventure, but such minds change the courses of civilizations.”
“May it be for the better,” I said.
“Agreed,” Senzen said. “I shall have my top assistants oversee your acclimation. Then, when you are ready, you must join me in the mountains of the cold north. You shall meet creatures that will astonish you.”
“I look forward to the opportunity.”
And just as fast as he’d arrived, Senzen stepped back into the airlock and out into the toxic atmosphere of that blue world. I couldn’t help but feel an excitement, perhaps a sentiment unbecoming a researcher, but Senzen inspired such in others, and I was no less susceptible.
In the months that followed, I endured a constant but dull level of pain as my body underwent similar metamorphoses to Senzen and the other planet-bound researchers.
Senzen himself checked in each day to mark my progress and report on his own as he and his team attempted to make contact with and ingratiate themselves with the colossal mammals of the great white northlands.
When finally, after several months of transformations I could breathe outside the research hub at Daral Sul, Senzen himself flew down from the north to show me the first study site. He looked even more alien to my eyes. It was difficult to gather what the difference truly was, but I could sense in him a wildness and aggression that went beyond what he had shown to the Commissariat and even the boldness in his bearing at the research hub. Once he left the compound, he seemed freer and spoke as such.
“Out here you will see beyond the boundaries set for us by the Commissariat, Hudal α`Tat. Life is the most powerful force in the universe. To suppress it out of fear for the outcome is weakness.”
“Yet if we unleash it, should we not temper the outcome to ensure the outcome isn’t undesirable?”
“Undesirable for whom, Hudal α`Tat?” was all he said.
That became the question once the dumb rock sprang to life and began to ask about itself. The wisdom of our predecessors lingered there in that very question: for whom?
The animals in the north were incredible. The four-legged mammals dwarfed any other land creature we’d encountered here or anywhere else. And as unbelievable as their immense imposing size proved to be in the flesh, these lumbering giants, with their heavy fur coats; their long, curving white bone-tusks; and their dangling facial appendages, they were mere modest creatures compared to fossils of the ancient extinct lizard kings that had once roamed the lands of this roiling ball of life. Even here in the cold, frozen lands of the harsh north, one could hardly look in any direction without encountering a living wonder. Grasses protruded from beneath the ice and snows. Fish lazed beneath the sheer ice sheets. Hot-blooded feathery descendants of the lizard kings circled in the air above us, soaring over the snowlands with their eyes fixed on the grounds below in search of their next meal.
When we came upon the researchers, they were standing back from the herd of giants. They reported on much progress our spybots had made recording auditory communication amongst the herd. They seemed confident we could mimic a greeting and communicate basic intentions of goodwill, and when such was related to Senzen, there was no discussion of whether this was proper. It seemed in his mind there was no decision to make. He merely slung the speaker box over his shoulder and gestured for me to follow, stating, “We shall greet them.”
At first, the animals were openly hostile toward Senzen when he replayed the greeting on the speaker box. They feinted charges and stomped their thunderous front legs into the ground. Senzen did not flinch. Even with an energy shield it was a terrifying moment.
In that moment, though, it occurred to me that it wouldn’t be all that pleasant being greeted with a recording of yourself saying hello to yourself, and that if these creatures were as sophisticated as we credited them as being, that’s how our overture would have been perceived. The tone and the timbre of the voice translator needed to be altered to infer that we were speaking, not playing a recording. Once this was done, the animals became docile and curious about how we were speaking to them. Within the first ten minutes, they had identified their herd as “Appa,” their species as “hantu” and related how they organized their society matrilineally. They asked questions about us and seemed to understand and accept that we came from the stars, as they’d seen our ships coming down from the sky. They asked us about our purpose, but the conversation stalled there for their vocabulary was wanting. I had never made contact with another race in the field. It was a moment I shall never forget.
Senzen spent hours with them, asking question upon question of their knowledge of the planet, and in return, he promised to help them improve their minds and memories, more words, more knowledge, greater friendship between our species. He began drawing up genetic pathways, gradual increments in their cognitive abilities, and he devised here an ingenious way to provide it—an alteration in a pungent herb the Appa themselves already enjoyed chewing. Senzen altered a strain of the plant to trigger an epigenetic signal in the Appa that spurred cognitive development. He seeded the herb throughout the front range, and over the following months, he measured their progress by the size of their vocabularies, from the matriarch herself down to the modest-sized youngsters. Their cognitive abilities grew at an impressive rate, especially among the young.
Then, just as Senzen was called back to Daral Sul, he simply vanished into the wilderness, leaving me to account for his progress to the overseers. I reported as faithfully as I could, stating that progress was being made and that Senzen himself, as unconventional as his methods may be, had proven an ingenious scientist and researcher, a true leader. The overseers trusted my word, but they insisted that they would need to hear from Senzen in short order. I had no idea where he was or when he would return, but I promised them he would.
Several days later, Senzen returned to our northern camp. He was cold and hungry, but unharmed. In fact, it was one of the Appa that had been instrumental in his safe return, or so Senzen said, reporting that he’d ridden on the back of the creature through a snow storm to get back to camp, but the story seemed wild and overwrought with exaggeration, for if he had truly been in trouble, he could have called us for help at any point to be picked up via shuttle. He also stated quite suddenly that we must visit the great grasslands of the mega-continent for there were cousins there of the Appa who also must be contacted. This, Senzen stated, was related to him by the Appa themselves. The presence of these animals though, was already known from our survey data. It seemed an excuse for Senzen to spend time on the mega-continent, but why he needed this excuse, I could not gather.
Shortly after we arrived at the grasslands, Senzen vanished. At first, most of the researchers believed his absence would be short lived, as it had been in the cold north. After several weeks, though, Senzen had not returned. There was no indication Senzen was in trouble, but the Commissariat was concerned. It was difficult to tell whether they were more concerned for his safety or whether he was trying to conceal some secret project that went directly against the Commissariat’s directives. I had a sense it was the latter.
In the first year, Senzen’s work was continued by his assistants at each study site. Senzen himself, though, was nowhere to be found. The Commissariat dispatched spy-bots, but to no avail. They sent down technicians to engineer spy-bots in the shape of the flying birds, as the Appa called the feather-bearing animals. That became the Commissariat’s sole strategy for locating Senzen, sending out hundreds of soaring spy-birds powered by starlight.
For years, the prevailing thought about Senzen was that he must have gotten too close to a dangerous predator or had been taken by surprise when he’d dropped his shield for some reason. Senzen had been one for taking unnecessary risks. Meanwhile, his work went forward, uplifting the Appa hantu and their furless cousins on the mega-continent, the rao hoti. Similarly, the marine species were slowly being brought along by our water species specialists. Before too long, as the protectorate became more well established, the researchers in their day-to-day labors grew to forget about Senzen α`Zatlan.
Over the course of the following decade, protectors in the grasslands of the mega-continent began to notice unaccountable behaviors among the hominids of the plains. The nonverbal hominids, which the rao hoti called Talmen, were observed using symbolic language. It was mostly simple signaling, pointing, and naming of landmarks, but symbolic representation should have been beyond their ken. And the young ones were demonstrating rudimentary syntax. It shouldn’t have been possible.
The geneticists went to work.
The hominids’ baseline genetics had changed since the original survey. Nothing in nature could have been shifting their genetics in such a radical way within a generation. The Commissariat was convinced that even though it had been over ten years since anyone had seen Senzen, he must have been somewhere in the field altering their genetics somehow.
In addition to the spy-bird drones and sophisticated reconnaissance drones and remote sensing tools, living hunters were brought in to locate Senzen α`Zatlan. Still, no sign of him was found throughout the grasslands.
The question became whether it would have been possible for him to walk out of the grasslands. How far could Senzen have travelled in ten years? Based on what we knew of Senzen when he disappeared, it would have been nearly impossible for him to have traveled that distance even in decades. But it occurred to me that Senzen, if he had been altering these homs, wouldn’t have been reluctant to alter himself further. He’d already done it before. He might not even look like one of us anymore. I didn’t bring this point to the attention of the Commissariat, though. I thought far too many of our resources were being sapped chasing the ghost of Senzen α`Zatlan. That piece of information could have inspired the overseers to sink even more valuable resources into locating Senzen.
The trackers who set out after him were clever, though. They realized that searching for one ordinary being on the entirety of the planet was an impossible task. Senzen the legend, though, was sure to have left a considerable trail. Shortly after spending time among these proto-verbal tribes, the trackers had already begun to put together a trail that spanned the entire reach of the mega-continent.
The name the searchers kept hearing from the tribes was “Sun Man,” which echoed their understanding of Senzen’s origin. The homs were of modest use in tracing his pathway across the land, but the cousins of the massive Appa hantu, the rao hoti, had been proto-verbal even before Senzen visited them. They remembered times, distances, the duration Senzen had stayed among them. Most packs even gave an accurate bearing. Within several months, Senzen’s path had been charted to the far end of the mega-continent.
When he was finally pulled from the bush in the high mountains at the far end of the world, Senzen was so much adapted to the planet, that he no longer looked fully alien to the lands. He had hair atop his head and on his limbs. His nostrils had narrowed together and he possessed a long flat appendage in the center of his face, much like the tribal homs of the grasslands. His musculature was powerful, fully upright and impressive, and he had a fierce bearing, which I saw first-hand when Senzen was brought back to Daral Sul as a captive, a fugitive of the Commissariat.
Senzen was uncooperative, determined that no matter how they resolved to extract his deeds from him, he swore to remain silent. I requested of the overseers a chance to see Senzen. They granted my audience, hoping that they could eavesdrop as Senzen opened up to a familiar face. He said not one word, merely pulling me close to him and placing his primordial hand flush against my shoulder and holding it there, squeezing my upper arm in such a way to let me know he was still there, still inside this primitive body.
They never drew a word about his activities from Senzen, even after they banished him from the planet and put him through a full reversion protocol. It was certain that he could speak, what he lacked was the will.
The overseers ordered the protectorate expanded, with an entire division dedicated to tracing and containing the genetic contamination Senzen had unleashed on the homs of the mega-continent.
In the years that followed, the protectorate failed to contain the rapid evolution of the homs, who not only were surpassing the rao hoti in vocabulary and memory but were developing culture, tools, and even rudimentary forms of narrative, an explosion of cognitive sophistication that couldn’t be explained by natural means. The geneticists were baffled, as were the ethologists, who saw nothing in the behavior of the homs that could account for the monumental shift in the species. In the span of several generations, the homs became a fully proto-intelligent species, just as the Commissariat had forbidden and feared, and short of eliminating them, there was nothing they could do to stem the proliferation of their rise to self-awareness.
The Commissariat, in their wisdom, declared that this outcome had been prescribed from the outset. The number of researchers on the planet that fully understood this lie and its implication were vanishingly small, I being one. Most of the researchers who possessed pieces of the story were transferred back off world, and the new crop of researchers who came in to replace them came equipped with a new mandate and a new story undergirding that mandate.
Senzen had quickly become a visionary. The protectorate being implemented had been the vision all along. Senzen’s vision. It was a story that was not radically different from the truth. Indeed, he did advocate for the lifting up of the primitive homs so that one day they could become the guardians of this world. If they continued to radically evolve into a cognitively advanced species, they would, in the span of several millennia, be capable of self-organizing into societies capable of technological development. It became the protectorate’s charge now to see this through, as smoothly and as skillfully as we could guide them without fully lighting the way.
Still, in the background, as a most trusted and knowledgeable servant of the Commissariat, I was aware of the furtive efforts of a select group, whose task it was to stem the advancement of the homs. They had no idea how this genetic mutation was progressing now that Senzen had been banished from the planet. They surmised that something in the environment was altering them, but all their efforts proved fruitless. They investigated bacteriological, viral, and food-born vectors for genetic mutation. They found nothing.
It was a full thirty years after Senzen’s banishment before the mystery of the homs evolution was solved. I hadn’t spoken to him, yet I’d reviewed his early field notes and even his journals. To my knowledge, no one in the Commissariat had ever requested access to Senzen α`Zatlan’s early writings, despite their containing much of the philosophical basis for his actions. His writing was brash, surprisingly direct, and extremely convincing. Either we should take responsibility for the resources of the planet, which the Commissariat was unwilling to do, or we should uplift the highest species of the planet to the point they could, which the Commissariat was also unwilling to do. We needed to choose.
In one of the early files regarding the homs, Senzen had written a string of letters and numbers: C12H17N2O4P, which after careful examination appeared to merely be a chemical compound with little significance.
By chance, as I was doing field work among the homs of the great grasslands, I was re-reading his early writings, more for the philosophical teachings than to solve any mystery. The homs had become more and more familiar seeing us lurking on the outskirts of their settlements and had come to largely ignore us, as they knew we weren’t a threat. I was seated in the shade under a tree where a series of water puddles had settled during the early spring rains.
A young female homs came from between two trees with her two little children toddling along behind her. I could see that she was gravid, expecting a third child as well. They drank from the puddles with their curled hands, and when they’d each had their fill, they began to search the fallen detritus of dead and dying plant matter on the moist earth around the edges of the puddles. The larger of the children was vocalizing as he searched further away from the mother and deeper into the bush. Before long, he cried out, “Masu, masu!” and the mother came running with the little one. It didn’t seem that there was danger; rather, a discovery of some sort.
I took out my ocularis to see if I could discern what had captured their attention. They were out of my sight line, so I put up a spy bird and sent it to alight on the tree branches just above them. It captured the scene on my screen. The mother and the larger child had found a small patch of fungal caps on the forest floor. They picked nearly all the fungal caps, placing them in a fold of a large leaf, wrapping them up, but not before the mother had eaten one and given a small sample to each child. They imbibed such a small amount that it didn’t seem the homs treated this fungus as food. It piqued my curiosity, for they sought out these fungal caps specifically, but if not for sustenance, then for what? I resolved to return later to study that fungus.
Hidden there in the chemical composition of the fungus was that same string of seemingly random letters and numbers from Senzen’s notes. I found the alteration in the mushroom and immediately knew it for what it was: an epigenetic trigger for rapid genetic mutation of genes governing cognitive development in the homs species.
They had a word for that fungus already. Masu. They knew. They were seeking it out in the bush, just like the Appa with the herb. I should have guessed long before.
Last now was the question: Did the Commissariat deserve to know? It occurred to me that every move Senzen had made decades earlier could still be undone if I brought the matter to the attention of the overseers.
The mother and children came out of the hidden grove, leaves in hand, filled with the fungus. The mother made a gesture to the two children, who bared their tiny white teeth—a gesture among the homs of welcome rather than aggression—and they made a patterned movement of their hands toward me.
“Sul! Sul!” they shouted.
They were learning.
Nothing the Commissariat could say could change that for me.
Off went the homs, back into the bush where their tribe was camped.
Days, generations, eons.
They would grow, and, with my silence, our kind would be here to watch, ignorant of the spark that had brought them out of the darkness.
I took one final look at that mother and her children disappearing into the obscurity of the bush. My name, Hudal α`Tat, like these young anonymous homs, was destined to remain a silent link in the chain of their history, while the name Senzen α`Zatlan would ring for all time. The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves become our myths; our myths become our truths; and our truths shape our history. Senzen α`Zatlan had little use for history, which was perhaps, why more than any of our kind, Senzen α`Zatlan was the one among us best suited to make history, writing it into the very genes of the future stewards of this miraculous little alien world.