the
connection: the connectedness. It doesn't exist. I'm not trying to say it
exists. I'm only guessing that Osden might be able to describe it.'
And
Osden took him up, speaking as if in trance. 'Sentience without senses. Blind,
deaf, nerveless, moveless. Some irritability, response to touch. Response to
sun, to light, to water, and chemicals in the earth around the roots. Nothing
comprehensible to an animal mind. Presence without mind. Awareness of being,
without object or subject. Nirvana.'
'Then
why do you receive fear?' Tomiko asked in a low voice.
'I
don't know. I can't see how awareness of objects, of others, could arise: an
unperceiving response ... But there was an uneasiness, for days. And then when
I lay between the two trees and my blood was on their roots—' Osden's face
glittered with sweat. 'It became fear,' he said shrilly, 'only fear.'
'If
such a function existed,' Harfex said, 'it would not be capable of conceiving
of a self-moving, material entity, or responding to one. It could no more
become aware of us than we can "become aware" of Infinity.'
'
"The silence of those infinite expanses terrifies me",' muttered
Tomiko. 'Pascal was aware of Infinity. By way of fear.'
'To
a forest,' Mannon said, 'we might appear as forest fires. Hurricanes. Dangers.
What moves quickly is dangerous, to a plant. The rootless would be alien,
terrible. And if it is mind, it seems only too probable that it might become
aware of Osden, whose own mind is open to connection with all others so long as
he's conscious, and who was lying in pain and afraid within it, actually inside
it. No wonder it was afraid—'
'Not
"it",' Harfex said. 'There is no being, no huge creature, no person!
There could at most be only a function—'
'There
is only a fear,' Osden said.
They
were all still a while, and heard the stillness outside.
'Is
that what I feel all the time coming up behind me?' Jenny Chong asked, subdued.
Osden
nodded. 'You all feel it, deaf as you are. Eskwana's the worst off, because he
actually has some empathic capacity. He could send if he learned how, but he's
too weak, never will be anything but a medium.'
'Listen,
Osden,' Tomiko said, 'you can send. Then send to it - the forest, the fear out
there - tell it that we won't hurt it. Since it has, or is, some sort of affect
that translates into what we feel as emotion, can't you translate back? Send
out a message, We are harmless, we are friendly.'
'You
must know that nobody can emit a false empathic message, Haito. You can't send
something that doesn't exist.'
'But
we don't intend harm, we are friendly.'
'Are
we? In the forest, when you picked me up, did you feel friendly?'
'No.
Terrified. But that's - it, the forest, the plants, not my own fear, isn't it?'
'What's
the difference? It's all you felt. Can't you see,' and Osden's voice rose in
exasperation, 'why I dislike you and you dislike me, all of you? Can't you see
that I retransmit every negative or aggressive affect you've felt towards me
since we first met? I return your hostility, with thanks. I do it in
self-defense. Like Porlock. It is self-defense, though; it's the only technique
I developed to replace my original defense of total withdrawal from others.
Unfortunately it creates a closed circuit, self-sustaining and
self-reinforcing. Your initial reaction to me was the instinctive antipathy to
a cripple; by now of course it's hatred. Can you fail to see my point? The
forest-mind out there transmits only terror, now, and the only message I can
send it is terror, because when exposed to it I can feel nothing except
terror!'
'What
must we do, then?' said Tomiko, and Mannon replied promptly, 'Move camp. To
another continent. If there are plant-minds there, they'll be slow to notice
us, as this one was; maybe they won't notice us at all.'
'It
would be a considerable relief,' Osden observed stiffly. The others had been
watching him with a new curiosity. He had revealed himself, they had seen him
as he was, a
connection: the connectedness. It doesn't exist. I'm not trying to say it
exists. I'm only guessing that Osden might be able to describe it.'
And
Osden took him up, speaking as if in trance. 'Sentience without senses. Blind,
deaf, nerveless, moveless. Some irritability, response to touch. Response to
sun, to light, to water, and chemicals in the earth around the roots. Nothing
comprehensible to an animal mind. Presence without mind. Awareness of being,
without object or subject. Nirvana.'
'Then
why do you receive fear?' Tomiko asked in a low voice.
'I
don't know. I can't see how awareness of objects, of others, could arise: an
unperceiving response ... But there was an uneasiness, for days. And then when
I lay between the two trees and my blood was on their roots—' Osden's face
glittered with sweat. 'It became fear,' he said shrilly, 'only fear.'
'If
such a function existed,' Harfex said, 'it would not be capable of conceiving
of a self-moving, material entity, or responding to one. It could no more
become aware of us than we can "become aware" of Infinity.'
'
"The silence of those infinite expanses terrifies me",' muttered
Tomiko. 'Pascal was aware of Infinity. By way of fear.'
'To
a forest,' Mannon said, 'we might appear as forest fires. Hurricanes. Dangers.
What moves quickly is dangerous, to a plant. The rootless would be alien,
terrible. And if it is mind, it seems only too probable that it might become
aware of Osden, whose own mind is open to connection with all others so long as
he's conscious, and who was lying in pain and afraid within it, actually inside
it. No wonder it was afraid—'
'Not
"it",' Harfex said. 'There is no being, no huge creature, no person!
There could at most be only a function—'
'There
is only a fear,' Osden said.
They
were all still a while, and heard the stillness outside.
'Is
that what I feel all the time coming up behind me?' Jenny Chong asked, subdued.
Osden
nodded. 'You all feel it, deaf as you are. Eskwana's the worst off, because he
actually has some empathic capacity. He could send if he learned how, but he's
too weak, never will be anything but a medium.'
'Listen,
Osden,' Tomiko said, 'you can send. Then send to it - the forest, the fear out
there - tell it that we won't hurt it. Since it has, or is, some sort of affect
that translates into what we feel as emotion, can't you translate back? Send
out a message, We are harmless, we are friendly.'
'You
must know that nobody can emit a false empathic message, Haito. You can't send
something that doesn't exist.'
'But
we don't intend harm, we are friendly.'
'Are
we? In the forest, when you picked me up, did you feel friendly?'
'No.
Terrified. But that's - it, the forest, the plants, not my own fear, isn't it?'
'What's
the difference? It's all you felt. Can't you see,' and Osden's voice rose in
exasperation, 'why I dislike you and you dislike me, all of you? Can't you see
that I retransmit every negative or aggressive affect you've felt towards me
since we first met? I return your hostility, with thanks. I do it in
self-defense. Like Porlock. It is self-defense, though; it's the only technique
I developed to replace my original defense of total withdrawal from others.
Unfortunately it creates a closed circuit, self-sustaining and
self-reinforcing. Your initial reaction to me was the instinctive antipathy to
a cripple; by now of course it's hatred. Can you fail to see my point? The
forest-mind out there transmits only terror, now, and the only message I can
send it is terror, because when exposed to it I can feel nothing except
terror!'
'What
must we do, then?' said Tomiko, and Mannon replied promptly, 'Move camp. To
another continent. If there are plant-minds there, they'll be slow to notice
us, as this one was; maybe they won't notice us at all.'
'It
would be a considerable relief,' Osden observed stiffly. The others had been
watching him with a new curiosity. He had revealed himself, they had seen him
as he was, a
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