Originator by Joel Shepherd Page A

had never felt more human than now. Thank God this was not her race being described. Thank God. And with that thought came fear.
    â€œI say this to make you understand—the Talee are concerned, now more than ever. This concern does not come from greed, or from hostile design, or from the desire to interfere for other selfish reasons in human concerns. The concern comes because we fear we may be seeing the fate that once befell ourselves now befalling you.”
    Abruptly, Ari leant forward on the table. “Can you prove that it was an uplink-related sociological dysfunction that caused your catastrophe?”
    â€œNo,” said Cai. “But it fits the time frame well. And let us say, multiple circumstantial evidence, which I am not at liberty to share, further supports that conclusion.”
    â€œTalee psychology is different,” Ari pressed. “If some of the theories are true, very different. Can you be sure that mass psychological dysfunction will result from the same technological phenomenon, whether the user of the uplinks is Talee or human?”
    Here, Sandy expected evasion. Cai’s answer stunned her. “Current Talee thinking suspects humans are less susceptible,” he said. “But I might add my own observation—Talee can be . . . how should I say? Pessimistic, about themselves, where the catastrophe is concerned. Self-confidence is lacking, and judgement may be coloured. But yes, the patterns currently observed in the League are broadly similar with what Talee researchers might expect in a Talee population . . . with obvious adjustments to baseline psychological norms.”
    â€œSo you’re saying that while our species are not psychologically alike, our level of deviance produced by this phenomenon is approximate?”
    Cai nodded. “I believe so, yes.”
    â€œRight,” said Ari with hard determination. “Can you stop it?” Cai gazed at him. “In your own species, at least?”
    Here again, the evasion. “I cannot say.”
    â€œCannot? You mean you aren’t allowed to, or you don’t know?”
    â€œEither,” said Cai.
    â€œThat’s not good enough,” said Sandy. “You tell your friends that we’ll put up with a lot from them, partly because we have no technological choice, and partly because we’re genuinely convinced that Talee intentions are not hostile. But if the Talee can see what’s unfolding in the League right now, and have even the smallest insights to share about how it might be possible to address it, on a technological level, then they have an absolute moral obligation to share!”
    â€œCassandra,” said Hando with a faint wince, “please, this is an alien species, morality as we understand it is a very human concept. . . .”
    â€œTalee have morality,” Cai interrupted. “Different, as you say, Assistant Director, but the concept is as fundamental to Talee as to humans. But considerations are different. Reasoning is different. Value structures, prioritisation . . . please, you must understand how difficult this is for Talee to judge. . . .”
    â€œDifficult for Talee?” Sandy replied. Not raising her voice, not yet. “We might be about to lose a good portion of our species. Or worse. And Talee morality says it’s difficult for Talee ?”
    Cai stared at the tabletop, lips pressed thin. “Cassandra,” he said then, “this is a dangerous simplification, but I feel that I must. Talee are very hard to convince, on this matter, that they will not simply make things worse.”
    â€œWorse?” asked Sandy. “How could it be worse?”
    â€œCassandra, when the Talee began to resettle their devastated homeworld, their researchers and scientists began to notice odd little things. Little discoveries, signs of civilisation in a different style or with the wrong timestamp. For a long time these oddities were overlooked.