Semiosis: A novel of first contact

They lied about Earth, they lied about the city, and now they were lying about how Julian died.

He was dead. They killed him.

Everyone told me they were sorry and hugged me and cried. The children’s tears were real. And mine.

I’d known him all my life and he wasn’t there anymore. I thought about climbing up the valley with him toward that first stand of bamboo on top of the cliff, hand in hand, hoping a glass maker would pop up from behind the next rock. I thought about the long walk home after we’d both learned so much. I slept with him, ate with him, talked with him, expected to be with him my whole life.

Now life was different, never the same again.

We held the funeral that night. Octavo wouldn’t talk to anyone and didn’t go to the grave. For his own son! He didn’t go because he knew it was no accident. But he wouldn’t do anything about the people who killed him. Or maybe he couldn’t do anything.

I followed Julian’s corpse as it was carried to its grave, thinking that I did not, not, not want to die there, did not want to lead a hard, ugly life under the dictates of lying murderous parents and finally be carried in rags through the desolate fields and be left to feed the greedy, stupid snow vine. Vera gave a short bland funeral speech. I didn’t say anything. I probably couldn’t have. Children were only allowed to praise the dead, anyway.

Late that night, in my room, I ate a dried bamboo fruit, sweet and spicy, and felt worse to know that more waited for me, wanted me to come, gardens decorated with fruit in a city that sparkled in the Sun and that Julian would never see again with me. He was sterile and expendable. He was a warning, the sort of crime they did on Earth, what the parents left Earth to escape, but they were still Earthlings. And I could carry on without Julian. I had to.

I was quiet the next day and the day after that, sometimes pretending he was still with me, sometimes imagining I was back at the city with him or that I was at the city in the future, we’d all gone there to live, and I was looking at the places where we’d been together. The worst was at night, alone, trying to sleep in the same ugly building as the people who’d killed him. I thought about how to get back to the city, about what I had to do, about why they killed Julian to keep me quiet, but I wouldn’t be quiet. I’d make them talk.

Bryan told people he’d tested the dried fruit and when they asked him about the results, he sighed. He said he’d explain at the meeting.

That evening, I arrived at the plaza as the benches were being lined up and Cynthia came up to me and asked about the city.

“It’s big and colorful,” I said.

“Why isn’t it on the satellite pictures?” She did a lot of foraging and depended on maps.

“That’s a good question.”

She frowned and curled a lock of hair around her finger, thinking, as bats wailed overhead.

Vera emerged from one of the lodges with a parent being carried to the meeting in a cot. She called everyone to order and we all sat down. “A long meeting would be difficult for some of us, so let’s start. Sylvia’s broken the covenant of the Commonwealth, and we must decide how she will be punished.”

“What did I do?” I said. She glared at me because I was talking at a meeting in a challenging tone of voice. Aloysha made a fist and winked.

“You ran away,” Terrell said.

Octavo said softly, “We ran away from Earth,” but no one paid attention.

I didn’t have time to waste. “The city is visible from the sky.”

“That’s not the point of the meeting,” Terrell snapped.

“Lying is as bad as running away,” I said. “Lying for years is worse than running away once. The satellite can see the city. We were never told.”

“Can you prove that?”

“Someone should review the satellite data code,” I said. “That’s the proof.”

Nicoletta stood up. “I will.”

I looked at Octavo. He was staring far away, his lips moving silently.

“That’s not what this meeting is for,” said Vera. “You—”

“What else do you know about the city?” I said.

“There’s no city,” Terrell said.

“It’s that rainbow fruit,” Bryan said. “I’ve analyzed it. An alkaloid. Do you know what alkaloids do to people? Cocaine, nicotine, strychnine. They’re addictive. They affect your thinking. Mescaline. People took mescaline and thought they saw God.”

And cocaine and nicotine had ruined Earth, he didn’t need to say that. Rosemarie and Daniel were sitting together, holding hands. Her other hand covered her mouth, and he was looking all around, nervous.

“Ephedrine is an alkaloid, too,” said Blas, the medic, another child speaking up, but he was apologetic, staring at the ground. “It’s what keeps some of you breathing.”

“The city is there,” I said. “The bamboo has fruit.”

Vera’s wrinkles deepened into valleys. “This is outrageous. You broke the covenant, and now you bring all sorts of false charges. We need to set things right before we continue. But no more talk about this before the next meeting. It’s divisive, and we need to put our energies into productive work. And I want everything that Sylvia and Julian brought back analyzed.”

“I can do that,” Octavo rasped. Bryan looked disappointed. I felt frustrated but I hid it. I’d never convince the parents but I knew that a few children already agreed with me. As we walked back to the lodges, I got some gentle pats of support.

“I will give these things a real analysis,” Octavo said when he came to my room, huffing and wheezing. I doubted it because he knew they had killed Julian and he hadn’t done anything. I stared at the fruit, dying to nibble it, to feel the dried flesh become alive and sweet and rich in my mouth. “More fruit,” he said. “Good.”

“I have glass maker bones.” I watched to see how he’d react.

“Bones … Very good.” But he wasn’t pleased or surprised.

“You knew about the city.”

He wouldn’t look at me. “I can analyze these,” he said, and shuffled away. Liar. But I didn’t think he liked lying. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t keep lying.

The methane fermenters in the power units of the weeding robots somehow broke down the next morning, which was cold and rainy, so Nicoletta was too busy fixing them to have time to examine the satellite maps because the crops came first. I was sent to fix the roofs on the gift center and Cynthia met me there.

“We can’t even talk about it,” she said.

“So don’t,” I said. “Don’t talk about anything.”

That evening, seven of us children ate dinner in silence. Some of the grandchildren thought it was a game and joined in. Higgins tried to hush Vera as she talked about the weather and new problems with the medical equipment, which meant more unexpected work for Nicoletta and delays for Octavo’s testing, since there wasn’t enough equipment to investigate our surroundings and care for Ansel’s perforated ulcer, Terrell’s this, someone’s that, and Bryan’s malingering joint trouble. With every sentence, Higgins shook his head, no no no! Other grandchildren joined in. Vera opened her mouth and a half-dozen little heads wagged.

Bryan ran out of patience by the next morning. “You’re addicted to the fruit, right? Answer me!” As a reply, I took off my clothes because parents hated nudity for some Earth reason. He hobbled away as fast as he could.

The protest caught on. Higgins and his little friends got naked and tried to undress people.

That afternoon Vera looked me in the eye, deliberately ignoring my body, when she ordered me to make a cage for hydrogen seeds about to ripen, so I was on my way to the shed for esparto grass when Octavo limped up.

“The fruit is fine,” he said.

“Bryan lied? And you, will you lie?”

“There has been enough lying, but that is not the important part. It is complicated. We can start with the fruit.”