Jimorian
2009-01-18, 04:05 PM
Hi all,
The following is a story I had published a few years ago, and as a tangent to a thread in Friendly Banter, and because I just kinda want to dust it off and see what any reactions would be, I present it here. Comments welcome as always. I have plans for a larger project here you should all see the start of in a week or two. Enjoy!
"The Ever-Rising Tide"
Sten Carrick vomited onto the dirt beneath his outstretched arms, waited for the dry heaves to subside, then decided to stop poisoning himself.
Starvation had to be better than this.
Pushing himself upright with shaky arms and legs, he limped back to his shelter, a stray piece of wreckage from the Glorious Rain's landing craft. He tossed the pot of seaweed stew -- his latest failure to find native edibles -- into the bushes, then slumped against the shelter. He took a swig from his canteen, swished and spit away the bitter taste, then swallowed the next to settle his stomach. At least fresh water wasn't a concern.
Sten crawled into the wreckage and took an emergency ration from his dwindling store. Perhaps he'd be ready for it later. He grabbed his walking stick and canteen on the way out, then headed for the shore.
Even with the stick and a splint, his left ankle still ached when he walked. He was sure he hadn't set it properly, but considering the magnitude of the crash, he was lucky that and a wrenched shoulder were his worst injuries.
The well worn path in the dry grass led to a ten-meter high bluff overlooking a small cove. A narrow gully gave him fairly easy access to the beach below. At the bottom, the change in perspective always took a moment to digest. With the arc of the bluff behind him, he felt pressed toward the mass of the ocean, and it always took a bit of effort to shake the illusion that he somehow stood below water level.
The beach curved out on his right until it met a rocky promontory on the northern point. Flat but uneven bedrock cut off the beach a little to his left, and filled the corner between the bluff and another tall, rocky headland on the southern reach. Point to point was perhaps a kilometer across. Small breakers fell in even lines along the beach, while chaotic waves bounced against the outer rocks and lower portion of bedrock, sending up a constant spray of seawater. The perfect vacation spot on any other world.
He turned to the south and walked across the bedrock and gravel banks to his destination, a wide, shallow tidepool. When he reached it, he eased himself into the crash chair he had brought down here two weeks ago. Settled in to wait, he took another drink as he contemplated the white, spongy mass filling the bowl of the tidepool.
He watched the slow progression of the tide rolling in, coming ever closer to the pool. This world had no satellites if one didn't count the dead hulk of the Glorious Rain orbiting above. With only a solar tide to worry about, Sten could count on a consistent schedule. This pool filled two hours before local noon and midnight, and emptied again about five hours later.
Even now the first few splashes spilled over the rim to wet the sponge, which expanded further with each life-giving drop.
Sten waited as the sun rose higher behind him.
When the pool held enough water to cover the sponge, the mass took on a new form with tendrils, polyps, and knobs swaying in the gentle current washing in and out of the pool.
<<Hello, Sten.>>
"Good morning," Sten replied aloud to the voice in his mind.
<<You've given up.>> It wasn't an accusation, only acknowledgment.
"It's hopeless."
<<I know, but you had to try.>>
"Actually, it's a relief," he said. "At least now I know what will happen."
<<You might still get rescued.>>
Sten laughed. "Not likely, especially not now. God only knows how far off course that jump failure sent us. We never were able to get a proper bearing."
<<Sorry, I just don't like the thought of giving up.>>
"Naturally. Neither do I."
<<There's nothing else I can remember for you to do. FleetCom didn't exactly take the possibility of crash landing on an unknown habitable planet seriously.>>
"At least you were able to recall some of the procedures. I don't remember a thing myself. I thought that blanching trick might do it, though."
<<I thought so, too. But the basic chemistry must be incompatible with your system then, so it's not just a matter of filtering an element or two.>>
"Nope. At least I won't have to worry about puking every time I try to eat something." Sten patted the emergency ration next to him. "I never thought I'd appreciate these things."
<<Only eight left, though.>>
"That's all right. I'll stretch them to one every two days instead of one daily. Avoiding native 'foods' should make it easier."
<<Be careful; that's only a fourth of what you really need.>>
"It's not like I'll be exerting myself. The walk between here and the shelter is easy enough."
<<Even that will get too difficult at some point.>>
"Don't worry, that's when I'll park my butt in this chair and keep it here until the end."
<<Thank you, Sten.>>
Sten watched the waves for a while in silence. He really didn't need to verbalize to communicate with the alien sponge, but it helped them both follow the actual conversation rather than sidetracking on stray thoughts in Sten's mind.
<<Here comes lunch...>>
Closing his eyes, Sten saw the world through the eyes of a native fish. The sponge used its telepathy to take control of the fish's motor reflexes and guide it along the shore then leap over the lip into the tidepool. When Sten opened his eyes, he saw the fish flopping and struggling to escape the sponge's tentacles drawing the prey down into the mass for digestion.
"I guess I should eat as well."
He removed the ration pouch from his pocket, broke the seal between chemical heating elements and waited for his meal to cook. After a couple minutes, he tore away the top, removed the spoon from its pouch, and dug in. Some kind of stew that he would have otherwise hated, but his stomach overrode his tastebuds these days, and it tasted better than any gourmet meal he'd ever eaten.
"I think that was chicken and rice."
<<That's what it tasted like.>>
"Wish I could taste that fish." They had tried that before, but Sten didn't have the required reference points for the physical experiences of his counterpoint. The sponge, meanwhile, not only had its own reference points but Sten's as well via the same osmosis that had given it his memories and intelligence.
"Do you remember that restaurant on Calypso? The one with the aquarium along the wall with sharks imported from Earth?"
<<Yes, it was quite a view, you'd never know the place was five hundred meters under a mountain.>>
"That was the best meal I've ever had, and the most expensive. I can't believe I blew three hundred credits that night."
<<I'd say Rebecca was worth it, though.>> Sten could detect the smile in the other's "voice."
"Yes, she was, at least for the short time we had together. I don't think I've ever regretted leaving a planet more than that one. I should have stayed put and gotten a job groundside."
<<You'd have gone crazy within three weeks.>>
Sten laughed. "Yes, you're probably right." He waved his hand across the landscape. "Look where that wanderlust has gotten me now."
No response to that. Sten wasn't even sure if he wanted one.
"Enough of that, no reason to feel sorry for myself -- I own an entire planet; there's never been any man richer!"
<<You're probably right. Hey, do you remember that old guy on Augustus...?>>
Before he knew it, Sten found that their hours together were nearly gone, lost in remembering the good times of the past.
<<The tide's almost out. I wish I could stay longer; I know this has been a tough day for you.>>
"Oh that? I'll be fine, don't worry. It's not like I haven't always known the ultimate outcome."
Sten looked out across the cove at the crashing waves. He didn't really have anything more to say at the moment, so he watched the beauty of the scenery for the both of them un-til he felt the other's presence drift away.
Then he climbed back up to his shelter to wait until the next time, the next high tide.
# # #
Sten shut off his watch alarm, tried to remember a fading dream, then wondered why he had to get up. Was there any point?
He fumbled around in the dark putting on his boots, then tied the splint around his ankle. He slipped on his jacket as well -- the equatorial nights weren't cold, but he didn't have spare calories to burn against even a mild chill.
He crawled from the wreckage into the open night, looked up at the stars that were the only illumination at night on this world. The Milky Way arched across the blackness of space and the stars sparkled like jewels. One of them was home. He'd never see it again.
He grabbed a couple of fire-bush branches from the stack he had gathered and lit the end of one with the survival lighter. The soft, dry wood burned easily and steadily, giving Sten enough light to see his way down to the shore. It was two hours before local midnight and the tide was rising.
Another five hours to spend talking to himself.
Halfway down the gully, he slipped on some loose gravel and found himself on his back staring up at the stars. He sat up on his sore backside and noticed pain from his left hand where he had scraped it in the fall. He gathered his dropped possessions and slid the rest of the way down.
Once settled in his chair by the pool, he poured a bit of water from the canteen to wash the blood from the back of his hand, then sucked at the wound while waiting for the tide to rise.
<<Hello, Sten.>>
"Yeah, hi."
<<What's wrong?>>
"I slipped on the way down here. Scraped up my damn hand."
<<Ahh, I was wondering why you seemed... agitated.>>
"It's nothing." Sten examined his hand; the bleeding was down to a slow ooze.
<<Sleep well?>>
"No, ankle was bothering me again, couldn't get comfortable."
<<Sorry to hear that. Wish there was something I could
do.>>
"Don't worry about it, there isn't."
Sten watched the waves by starlight -- just enough light to illuminate the foam on the breakers. It was a bit chillier tonight, and he couldn't stop shivering even when he pulled the blanket closer to himself.
<<Something's wrong, I can tell. Want to talk about it?>>
"What are you, my mother now?"
<<No, but you know you can't hide your feelings from me. I know what you know, feel what you feel.>>
"The hell you do! Just because you can tap my brain doesn't mean you know me."
<<You're all I know. I didn't have any sentient thought until you came here, you know that. I had instinct, and telepathy guided by that instinct. If you hadn't wandered within range for me to assimilate your memories and thoughts, that's still all I'd have.>>
"Well, that was my first mistake. When I saw what was happening, I should have moved away from here."
<<But then I would have been trapped halfway between oblivion and intelligence. I would have the awareness that there was something more, but would never have known or understood what it was. Would you have been so cruel as to leave me that way?>>
Sten admitted to himself that he wouldn't have done that. Indeed, he had continued coming down to the shore until the other had assimilated enough to be a decent conversation partner. It certainly was better than talking to himself.
Or was it? He still wondered if he hadn't fallen into some traumatic delusion. After all, the "voice" had always been internal. But there was a distinctiveness, an individuality that felt real despite the impossibility.
But over time, as the creature's knowledge of him grew, as it dredged up memories he'd long forgotten, he had to acknowledge the truth -- he wasn't alone.
"No, I wouldn't have left you like that."
He said it out loud, but he knew that the other knew every thought that had gone into that statement as well. There were no secrets here.
<<I don't want to cause distress, Sten, please believe me.>>
"No, you just can't help it."
<<That's not fair.>>
"Nothing about this situation is fair! We shouldn't have suffered that jump malfunction. We shouldn't have been in range of a habitable planet that gave us hope. The landing craft shouldn't have crashed. And when it did, I shouldn't have been the only one to survive!
"I shouldn't have to be here, waiting to die a lingering, painful death because there's nothing on this damn planet I can eat without poisoning myself!"
In the darkness, Sten leaned back, looked away from the pool.
<<I'm sorry.>>
"Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you read my mind and think that's what I want?"
<<Both.>>
Sten stood up, lit the second branch with his lighter, then walked away.
<<Where are you going?>>
"You know damn well where I'm going." Away from you and your damn prying.
A few minutes later, Sten was back at the shelter. He crawled inside, pulled the blanket over himself, and tried to sleep.
But another memory returned, nearly as vivid as those enhanced by the other. Rebecca slamming the door in his face after he told her goodbye. The look in her eyes, the ache in his heart. Why couldn't she understand? Traveling the stars was his life, and he could no more give it up than he could give up breathing.
To hell with her then. To hell with everything.
# # #
He awoke earlier than normal, just after sunrise, his usual routine interrupted by the argument last night and the extra sleep. He wasn't hungry, but he did go out to relieve himself, hoping as usual that he was poisoning the bush as much as the planet had tried to poison him.
It was still several hours until the next high tide, but he found that he didn't much feel like going today. So what else was there to do? He certainly wasn't going to try any more "experiments" with food. He was absolutely sure he didn't want to try that anymore.
But what else was there? What else could he do with the rest of his life on this planet?
Well for one thing, he could try to see some of it.
Sten had traveled a few kilometers up and down the coast, as well as inland, searching for potential food, but he hadn't spent much time enjoying the scenery. His eyes were always on the ground looking for new specimens.
The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him, so he pulled all of his possessions out of the shelter, and took stock.
The eight meals he knew about, sixteen days' worth if he stuck to his every-other-day plan. Lighter for fires, utility knife. He wouldn't need the pots. Canteen, of course. Blankets.
Shelter was the biggest question. The climate was moderate here, with warm days, and cool nights. He could sleep in the open with a fire and blankets, but rain might be a problem. None of the waterproof tarps had been in his section of the landing craft.
He took an hour or so to fashion a crude pack, bending some metal strips, strapping some fabric to it. He fastened one blanket to form a bag, then stuffed the rest of his gear into that. He filled his canteen from his reservoir, a section of broken bulkhead with a hollow inside.
And he was set to go. Still two hours until high tide, when the other would be conscious, but he didn't feel like waiting.
So he left.
He walked north along the shore, over a small hill behind his shelter. There sat the burnt hulk of the Glorious Rain's landing shuttle. God knows what went wrong -- he hadn't been on the bridge. Instead, he had been down in the cargo hold strapped into one of the auxiliary crew chairs. The few times the crew had used the landing shuttle before, it had been as part of a routine run, so it had never carried the entire crew before.
He suspected that the shuttle may have been overloaded. They had taken everything they thought might be useful, and while they were technically within specs, the shuttle was nearly two hundred standard years old. It was designed for over three hundred years of use, but the maintenance was already getting burdensome.
It hadn't been a priority either. Most of the heavy lifting on their planetside runs was done by local vehicles, with the shuttle reserved for personnel transfers.
By some twist of fate, his section of the craft had sheared away from the rest and had bounced further down the shore. The other 29 of his crewmates had perished in the inferno that consumed the main section. Fortunately, he had been knocked unconscious, and was unable to witness the horror.
So now he stood looking over the charred remains of his friends and colleagues buried in the ashes of the shuttle.
Inside had been materials for shelter, equipment for obtaining raw materials, lab gear that might have enabled them to discover a safe food supply. Now he doubted even that would have helped. Better for them to have perished instantly than to face his present fate. Would they have turned on each other in desperation and hunger? He liked to think not, but who can ever really know? The only thing keeping him from that kind of desperation was a lack of options.
"Goodbye. It's a beautiful world, and I'm going to try to see as much as I can, but it's not for us."
This wasn't a new Eden, as they had hoped on the long flight insystem after the malfunction. They had all talked about the day when their distant progeny would once again achieve space flight. The secret of jump drive was fairly simple if one knew where to start, so it wouldn't have been long before their little offshoot of humanity could have reached out to rejoin their lost brethren.
Dreams. All foolish dreams, conjured to maintain a false hope.
But Sten now knew the harsh reality his friends had been spared, and he envied their ignorance.
So he turned to the east, his back to the ocean and the one companion that knew what he had gone through these past weeks, and hobbled away as best he could with his splinted ankle and walking stick.
Slow and steady was all he had left, but it would do. He was going to cheat death by living his last days to the fullest. This was the kind of adventure he dreamed of as a child, and he wasn't going to waste another moment.
If there was one thing Rebecca had taught him, it was that. He had squeezed more living into his three months with her than any other three years of his life.
She had coaxed him into climbing Mt. Gareth. He had been surprised how high five thousand meters felt as he stood on the peak and stared at the breathtaking view. He had seen dozens of planets from the heights of space, but that new perspective beat every one.
He wouldn't be mountain climbing anytime soon, but he was determined to find a new perspective to appreciate just the same.
# # #
He woke with dew on his lashes. He pulled the blankets close to ward off the chill, but quickly realized it would be better to move around if he wanted to get warm. The brisk air did invigorate him, however, as he packed his kit into the makeshift pack. When he was done, he was ready to get moving and see another day's worth of landscape.
His stomach grumbled and growled, but he set off into the morning sun without opening one of his last two meals. The exertion increased the hunger, but the exercise also helped strengthen his injured ankle. He barely needed the walking stick anymore, but he left the splint on to be safe.
The going was easy today. The land continued to rise as he left the sea behind, but the slope was gentle enough.
He saw few animals, most of which looked like small mammalian cousins to one of his first meal attempts. They seemed like a cross between a monkey and a cat, just over a half-meter tall. He could still feel his tongue burning with the poison in their meat.
By early afternoon, he reached the base of the hill range he first spotted five days ago. He knew he was too weak to climb straight over, so he picked one of the stream valleys and followed it into the gently rolling hills.
As he had all through his journey, he concentrated on committing the scenery to memory, trying to avoid thinking about his other self back in the tidepool. That part of his life was over, and he didn't want to waste energy regretting his decision to leave. Still, he couldn't help measuring time in terms of high and low tide.
Later, with darkness falling, he picked a sandy beach by the stream for camp. With a crackling fire going, he laid back on his bedroll and watched the sky change from dusk to full night. Stars appeared one by one, and soon the dark sky was punctuated by the full range.
Which one was home?
But then he realized that he wasn't sure which star he meant by that question. Was he looking for Earth's sun? The sun of Barrow, his birth planet? Or the sun of Calypso, the sun that shone on Rebecca's dark silky hair, the sun that reflected off her soft brown eyes?
He opened his second-to-last meal and ate as he thought about the question. If home is where he most wanted to be at that moment, then Rebecca's home was certainly the answer. Her spirit was with him, even three years removed, and uncountable light years away.
She had probably moved on with her life. If by some miracle he were to be rescued and taken to her world, he'd find her settled down, happy, perhaps with a family. He couldn't begrudge her that life, she deserved everything he could wish for her and more, even if the life she shared was with someone else.
He did regret not being able to share the sights he had seen with her. She'd have enjoyed being the first human to explore such a world as this -- her sense of adventure was always at the fore in their relationship.
This is for you, Rebecca. It's all been worth it.
# # #
Some days later, he sat on the bank of a narrow creek observing its flow. Resembling static waves, the tiny rapids mesmerized him, carrying away any sense of time in the waters that washed over ancient stones, cascaded in endless tones and currents.
Onward the water flowed, always onward to the sea he had left behind so many days before.
How many?
He tried to recall some of the sights from his journey, but failed. They had to be there, didn't they? Had he experienced the land or hadn't he?
Worse, he tried to picture Rebecca's face, and failed. He didn't understand, she was his lifeline, his hope, how could she abandon him like this?
Why was he here? What did he hope to accomplish out here all alone? He couldn't even remember his reason for leaving anymore. His shelter, the shore, the other. The whole world may have been his, but he belonged to one place.
This wasn't it.
How many meetings had he missed? How many days had he been gone? He didn't know. How many days did he have left?
Not enough.
He didn't even know if he could make it back; the effort would probably kill him. Nevertheless, he pushed himself up off the ground and stumbled toward the setting sun.
# # #
Surf.
His imagination? Sten tried to quiet the throb of blood in his head, tried to concentrate. He thought he detected a salt tang in the air as well, so he quickened his pace as much as his weary, ruined legs would allow.
Yes! He crested the headland and surveyed the infinite gray of the ocean below. He had missed his mark, but to the north he could make out the rocky point that bounded the southern edge of his cove. Four kilometers off -- not bad dead reckoning for a dead man.
He trudged through the breeze-swept headland grass, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.
He kept peeking to his left, though. The tide was receding -- he'd have to hurry!
He tried to step up his pace to a weak jog but his feet tangled and slammed him to the ground. He lay stunned, watching as blood dripped slowly from his chin into the soil. A few minutes passed before he it occurred to him to get up again. He knew he had to be somewhere soon, but for the life of him, he couldn't imagine where or why.
Oh well, I'll know when I get there. He struggled to his feet, then lurched forward. Automatically, he locked into rhythm with the waves below him -- four steps for each breaker crashing to shore. Left, right, left, right, crash.
Left, right, left...
<<Sten?>>
Damn it, lost count!
Crash, left, right, left, right, crash, left, right...
<<Sten, can you hear me?>>
He stopped frustrated in mid stride. "Leaff me alome," he croaked through broken teeth and swollen mouth.
The voice didn't come back. Good. Crash, left, right, left, right, crash, left, right, left, right...
# # #
Crash.
"Wha?" Sten looked around, confused. He was sitting in his chair by the tidepool. Night had fallen.
<<Sten? Are you all right?>>
"How? Ow, ow." He finally noticed the injuries to his mouth.
<<Don't speak, Sten. Just think it; I'll know what you're saying.>>
He fought down the pain with a series of deep breaths. How did I get here? I remember ... walking along the headland south of here, but I don't recall the rest of the trip.
<<I'm sorry, Sten, but I had to "guide" you here. I didn't think you'd make it on your own.>>
Sten absorbed the information. He had always assumed, he had always hoped, that he was immune to the kind of possession the other used on the fish. Even under the circumstances, the idea of an alien mind taking control didn't appeal to him.
<<I didn't know what else to do.>>
Sten sighed. This wasn't the time for recriminations. That's all right. Thank you. He unclipped the canteen from his belt and swished it around. Less than a third remained.
Nothing he could do about that -- no way in his condition could he make it back to the shelter for a refill. He popped the cap and filled his mouth with half of what was left, swishing it around to rinse away the blood before gulping it down.
I'm sorry I left like that. I had no right to be angry. You are what you are, and I'm glad that part of me will always be with you.
<<More than part, Sten. Everything that I am now is because of you. I had no conscious mind before you came. I lived, but I didn't think. Without your knowledge, your memories, your experiences, your character, I would be less than the fish I eat. I hoped that the idea that you'll live on in me would comfort you, not make you angry.>>
It is comforting, believe me. You always wonder if you've made a difference in other people's lives. Most people try to do that through children, but that's not the only way. Me, I know that more than any other human in history, what I am and have been will continue in a very real sense.
But you aren't me. When I die, what I am disappears forever. You'll go on, but you'll change, you'll grow into yourself with your own experiences and memories. Your life will be very different than mine.
<<I know that now. While you were away, I had only my own thoughts to keep me company, and although they were based on your patterns, they moved in surprising directions, Sten. I found that I have plans, dreams, and hopes that have never occurred to you.>>
<<I discovered that I am me.>>
And I discovered that your existence doesn't diminish mine. You're not taking from me, you're adding a new dimension, one that I'd never have imagined before landing here.
Sten stopped, feeling a bit foolish. Philosophy was never a strength, and now he was discussing existential issues never imagined before.
<<Yes, it is a bit silly.>>
They exchanged "smiles."
<<This may be just as absurd, but I've been thinking while you were away.>>
Oh?
<<Sitting here for however long my life may last -- I have no way of knowing for sure -- luring fish into my trap, is not enough for me now. How can I accept such a meaningless existence when I know there is a universe out there teaming with intelligent life? How could I not yearn to join that community?>>
<<Unfortunately, I am rooted to this place. I can't move, can't affect the environment around me, can't manipulate objects. All I have is my mind: it's abilities, and your knowledge.>>
<<I searched your deepest memories and experiences, everything you ever learned or read, in school or for pleasure. Great masses of data that you often forgot soon after an exam.>> Another internal smile.
<<I also searched my own primitive memories of my past, as boring and uninteresting as they are. Maybe there was something I could use.>>
<<Sten, there is a way.>>
<<Each year during my mating season, my telepathy extends outward until I am able to detect another of my kind. We each then guide a fish into our grasp, but instead of stunning it for food, we coat the fish's body with our genetic seed. We then each guide the fish to each other, this time injecting the 'eggs' into the coating from the other on the fish. Then we guide the fish to a suitable site along the coast, make it scrap its body over the rocks to deposit our fertilized spores.>>
<<Pure instinct, no thought at all.>>
<<But now I have far more to offer than sperm and eggs to the others like myself. I have you. I'm sure I can transfer this newfound sentience to others. If not all at once, then perhaps little by little, year by year during this mating period.>>
<<Eventually, they will absorb everything from me and spread that knowledge farther along the coast to the limits of our habitat.>>
<<Working together, using our abilities to control and manipulate other animals, we can try to breed them to be our eyes and hands. We can select for intelligence and dexterity, for adaptability. Through them, we'll discover ways to extend and grow beyond our own limited existence.>>
<<We'll create a world capable of taking its place in the universe you came from, Sten. We'll venture into space, and perhaps, someday, we'll be able to thank your brethren in person for all they have given to us through you.>>
Sten tried to find a response, and failed. He could hardly grasp what his other had told him.
<<Crazy, isn't it? I thought so, but I have too much of your strange imagination....>>
No, no. It's wonderful. Thank you for sharing it with me.
<<It's my pleasure, Sten. I was worried I'd never get a chance to tell you. As much as it excited me, the fear of never being able to share it with you overshadowed my joy. It's too big for one person to hold secret.>>
Yes. Far too grand. My God, it could take millions of years to make it work.
<<A worthy project, don't you think?>>
Sten detected the beaming pride and reflected it back tenfold.
Yes, and hopeful. God I've needed real hope ever since we fell out of jump space. This is finally it. Thank you.
They used the remaining time of high tide to discuss and debate the details until finally, the last of the seawater receded from the pool.
I don't know if I'll still be here next time, so I want to say goodbye while we have this chance.
<<Goodbye, Sten. I'll miss you, but I'll also always remember you.>>
Good luck with the project, and never give up. You know more than me how long and frustrating it will be at times.
<<I'll remember. I'll always....>> And with that, the other was gone.
Sten closed his eyes and went to sleep.
# # #
<<Sten?>>
His eyes fluttered open, blinked at the brightness of another day, and he saw the little pool well filled with the rising tide once again.
He had another chance.
He reached for the canteen, but remembered that it was now empty.
<<No, there's water, try it.>>
Too confused to argue, he picked up the canteen, felt the weight confirming the other's claim. Finding no reason to argue, he raised it, quenching parched throat and swollen lips. Only after downing half of the contents did he wonder to ask how?
<<I've been experimenting. Look to your right.>>
Sten turned his head, saw one of the little monkey-cats staring at him from a ledge in the rock.
<<When I couldn't wake you immediately this morning, I reached out and found this little guy crawling around near your shelter. I managed to get control and bring him down to take your canteen to the stream. It took a few tries, but eventually we worked it out.>>
Great work. I'm even more sure you'll succeed with your plan now.
<<Yes, I'm pleased too. I think my first breeding project will be to achieve opposable thumbs, though. Very tough to do without them.>>
They laughed inwardly at the joke, then Sten settled back into his seat. As always, it was the image of the rolling blue-gray sea that drew his gaze.
<<It's a beautiful world.>>
Yes, wonderful.
<<I'm glad you took the time to see more of it. While I waited for you to awake, I was able to draw the memories of your trip from your mind. They help me appreciate what I have here.>>
I'm glad, too. I needed a new perspective to realize a few things.
He continued to stare at the ocean.
Every wave is so different. I wish I had time to see them all.
<<I'll remember as many as I can.>>
Thank you... for everything.
They both watched the surf, content to share its simple beauty in silence.
<<Is this how it ends? I thought death was supposed to be terrifying, that we'd fight for every possible extra moment.>>
Too much effort, Sten. It would only detract from what we have left.
<<You called me Sten?>>
Just admitting the truth. It's always been your name; I never had the right to deny it to you.
<<That was never an issue.>>
It is to me. I owe you too much. I would have gone crazy here without you. Even dying, your plan gives me hope.
<<If it's not a false one.>>
It's not.
<<I wish I was that sure. What if I lose everything without you around? Over time, the thoughts may disappear, your memories may fade, my mind may sink back into primitive nothingness. I don't think I could stand it.>>
You won't let that happen; you have too much to do.
<<I gave myself quite a task, didn't I?>>
It's worth it.
They watched a few more breakers crumble against the shore. They sensed a fish wandering near the tidepool, but they let it go on its way.
<<That seems to be a clever species. We might need it one day.>>
Sten closed his eyes. The beauty was too painful now. You'll never know until you try.
<<Do you mean like with Rebecca?>>
Sten smiled at the memory. Rebecca. How could he have forgotten her face? At least now the other Sten could help him recall the memories. No regrets -- never any regrets. Even a failure can be worth the effort.
<<Remember the time you drove her to the coast?>>
Yeah, yeah! I made that wrong turn on that side road, and I had forgotten to recharge the car.
<<She just would not believe you. It took almost two hours to convince her that you really were lost. By then it was too late to try to walk out to the main road. That night in the car, she snuggled against you to stay warm, but you were too scared to try anything.>>
I was just glad she wasn't mad at me anymore. I certainly didn't want to provoke her again. Even after all these years, Sten could feel her warmth against his body, easing away the aches, caressing away the fatigue. He concentrated on the memory, grateful that the other Sten was able to enhance it, make it almost real. He matched his breaths to the sleepy slow rhythm of hers.
<<She sure was pretty when she was angry, though -- even prettier asleep. Her hair smelled of lilac, and the soft whisper of her breath was the most beautiful music in the world. Who needed sleep with someone like her in your arms, always in your arms, eternally there...>>
The End
The following is a story I had published a few years ago, and as a tangent to a thread in Friendly Banter, and because I just kinda want to dust it off and see what any reactions would be, I present it here. Comments welcome as always. I have plans for a larger project here you should all see the start of in a week or two. Enjoy!
"The Ever-Rising Tide"
Sten Carrick vomited onto the dirt beneath his outstretched arms, waited for the dry heaves to subside, then decided to stop poisoning himself.
Starvation had to be better than this.
Pushing himself upright with shaky arms and legs, he limped back to his shelter, a stray piece of wreckage from the Glorious Rain's landing craft. He tossed the pot of seaweed stew -- his latest failure to find native edibles -- into the bushes, then slumped against the shelter. He took a swig from his canteen, swished and spit away the bitter taste, then swallowed the next to settle his stomach. At least fresh water wasn't a concern.
Sten crawled into the wreckage and took an emergency ration from his dwindling store. Perhaps he'd be ready for it later. He grabbed his walking stick and canteen on the way out, then headed for the shore.
Even with the stick and a splint, his left ankle still ached when he walked. He was sure he hadn't set it properly, but considering the magnitude of the crash, he was lucky that and a wrenched shoulder were his worst injuries.
The well worn path in the dry grass led to a ten-meter high bluff overlooking a small cove. A narrow gully gave him fairly easy access to the beach below. At the bottom, the change in perspective always took a moment to digest. With the arc of the bluff behind him, he felt pressed toward the mass of the ocean, and it always took a bit of effort to shake the illusion that he somehow stood below water level.
The beach curved out on his right until it met a rocky promontory on the northern point. Flat but uneven bedrock cut off the beach a little to his left, and filled the corner between the bluff and another tall, rocky headland on the southern reach. Point to point was perhaps a kilometer across. Small breakers fell in even lines along the beach, while chaotic waves bounced against the outer rocks and lower portion of bedrock, sending up a constant spray of seawater. The perfect vacation spot on any other world.
He turned to the south and walked across the bedrock and gravel banks to his destination, a wide, shallow tidepool. When he reached it, he eased himself into the crash chair he had brought down here two weeks ago. Settled in to wait, he took another drink as he contemplated the white, spongy mass filling the bowl of the tidepool.
He watched the slow progression of the tide rolling in, coming ever closer to the pool. This world had no satellites if one didn't count the dead hulk of the Glorious Rain orbiting above. With only a solar tide to worry about, Sten could count on a consistent schedule. This pool filled two hours before local noon and midnight, and emptied again about five hours later.
Even now the first few splashes spilled over the rim to wet the sponge, which expanded further with each life-giving drop.
Sten waited as the sun rose higher behind him.
When the pool held enough water to cover the sponge, the mass took on a new form with tendrils, polyps, and knobs swaying in the gentle current washing in and out of the pool.
<<Hello, Sten.>>
"Good morning," Sten replied aloud to the voice in his mind.
<<You've given up.>> It wasn't an accusation, only acknowledgment.
"It's hopeless."
<<I know, but you had to try.>>
"Actually, it's a relief," he said. "At least now I know what will happen."
<<You might still get rescued.>>
Sten laughed. "Not likely, especially not now. God only knows how far off course that jump failure sent us. We never were able to get a proper bearing."
<<Sorry, I just don't like the thought of giving up.>>
"Naturally. Neither do I."
<<There's nothing else I can remember for you to do. FleetCom didn't exactly take the possibility of crash landing on an unknown habitable planet seriously.>>
"At least you were able to recall some of the procedures. I don't remember a thing myself. I thought that blanching trick might do it, though."
<<I thought so, too. But the basic chemistry must be incompatible with your system then, so it's not just a matter of filtering an element or two.>>
"Nope. At least I won't have to worry about puking every time I try to eat something." Sten patted the emergency ration next to him. "I never thought I'd appreciate these things."
<<Only eight left, though.>>
"That's all right. I'll stretch them to one every two days instead of one daily. Avoiding native 'foods' should make it easier."
<<Be careful; that's only a fourth of what you really need.>>
"It's not like I'll be exerting myself. The walk between here and the shelter is easy enough."
<<Even that will get too difficult at some point.>>
"Don't worry, that's when I'll park my butt in this chair and keep it here until the end."
<<Thank you, Sten.>>
Sten watched the waves for a while in silence. He really didn't need to verbalize to communicate with the alien sponge, but it helped them both follow the actual conversation rather than sidetracking on stray thoughts in Sten's mind.
<<Here comes lunch...>>
Closing his eyes, Sten saw the world through the eyes of a native fish. The sponge used its telepathy to take control of the fish's motor reflexes and guide it along the shore then leap over the lip into the tidepool. When Sten opened his eyes, he saw the fish flopping and struggling to escape the sponge's tentacles drawing the prey down into the mass for digestion.
"I guess I should eat as well."
He removed the ration pouch from his pocket, broke the seal between chemical heating elements and waited for his meal to cook. After a couple minutes, he tore away the top, removed the spoon from its pouch, and dug in. Some kind of stew that he would have otherwise hated, but his stomach overrode his tastebuds these days, and it tasted better than any gourmet meal he'd ever eaten.
"I think that was chicken and rice."
<<That's what it tasted like.>>
"Wish I could taste that fish." They had tried that before, but Sten didn't have the required reference points for the physical experiences of his counterpoint. The sponge, meanwhile, not only had its own reference points but Sten's as well via the same osmosis that had given it his memories and intelligence.
"Do you remember that restaurant on Calypso? The one with the aquarium along the wall with sharks imported from Earth?"
<<Yes, it was quite a view, you'd never know the place was five hundred meters under a mountain.>>
"That was the best meal I've ever had, and the most expensive. I can't believe I blew three hundred credits that night."
<<I'd say Rebecca was worth it, though.>> Sten could detect the smile in the other's "voice."
"Yes, she was, at least for the short time we had together. I don't think I've ever regretted leaving a planet more than that one. I should have stayed put and gotten a job groundside."
<<You'd have gone crazy within three weeks.>>
Sten laughed. "Yes, you're probably right." He waved his hand across the landscape. "Look where that wanderlust has gotten me now."
No response to that. Sten wasn't even sure if he wanted one.
"Enough of that, no reason to feel sorry for myself -- I own an entire planet; there's never been any man richer!"
<<You're probably right. Hey, do you remember that old guy on Augustus...?>>
Before he knew it, Sten found that their hours together were nearly gone, lost in remembering the good times of the past.
<<The tide's almost out. I wish I could stay longer; I know this has been a tough day for you.>>
"Oh that? I'll be fine, don't worry. It's not like I haven't always known the ultimate outcome."
Sten looked out across the cove at the crashing waves. He didn't really have anything more to say at the moment, so he watched the beauty of the scenery for the both of them un-til he felt the other's presence drift away.
Then he climbed back up to his shelter to wait until the next time, the next high tide.
# # #
Sten shut off his watch alarm, tried to remember a fading dream, then wondered why he had to get up. Was there any point?
He fumbled around in the dark putting on his boots, then tied the splint around his ankle. He slipped on his jacket as well -- the equatorial nights weren't cold, but he didn't have spare calories to burn against even a mild chill.
He crawled from the wreckage into the open night, looked up at the stars that were the only illumination at night on this world. The Milky Way arched across the blackness of space and the stars sparkled like jewels. One of them was home. He'd never see it again.
He grabbed a couple of fire-bush branches from the stack he had gathered and lit the end of one with the survival lighter. The soft, dry wood burned easily and steadily, giving Sten enough light to see his way down to the shore. It was two hours before local midnight and the tide was rising.
Another five hours to spend talking to himself.
Halfway down the gully, he slipped on some loose gravel and found himself on his back staring up at the stars. He sat up on his sore backside and noticed pain from his left hand where he had scraped it in the fall. He gathered his dropped possessions and slid the rest of the way down.
Once settled in his chair by the pool, he poured a bit of water from the canteen to wash the blood from the back of his hand, then sucked at the wound while waiting for the tide to rise.
<<Hello, Sten.>>
"Yeah, hi."
<<What's wrong?>>
"I slipped on the way down here. Scraped up my damn hand."
<<Ahh, I was wondering why you seemed... agitated.>>
"It's nothing." Sten examined his hand; the bleeding was down to a slow ooze.
<<Sleep well?>>
"No, ankle was bothering me again, couldn't get comfortable."
<<Sorry to hear that. Wish there was something I could
do.>>
"Don't worry about it, there isn't."
Sten watched the waves by starlight -- just enough light to illuminate the foam on the breakers. It was a bit chillier tonight, and he couldn't stop shivering even when he pulled the blanket closer to himself.
<<Something's wrong, I can tell. Want to talk about it?>>
"What are you, my mother now?"
<<No, but you know you can't hide your feelings from me. I know what you know, feel what you feel.>>
"The hell you do! Just because you can tap my brain doesn't mean you know me."
<<You're all I know. I didn't have any sentient thought until you came here, you know that. I had instinct, and telepathy guided by that instinct. If you hadn't wandered within range for me to assimilate your memories and thoughts, that's still all I'd have.>>
"Well, that was my first mistake. When I saw what was happening, I should have moved away from here."
<<But then I would have been trapped halfway between oblivion and intelligence. I would have the awareness that there was something more, but would never have known or understood what it was. Would you have been so cruel as to leave me that way?>>
Sten admitted to himself that he wouldn't have done that. Indeed, he had continued coming down to the shore until the other had assimilated enough to be a decent conversation partner. It certainly was better than talking to himself.
Or was it? He still wondered if he hadn't fallen into some traumatic delusion. After all, the "voice" had always been internal. But there was a distinctiveness, an individuality that felt real despite the impossibility.
But over time, as the creature's knowledge of him grew, as it dredged up memories he'd long forgotten, he had to acknowledge the truth -- he wasn't alone.
"No, I wouldn't have left you like that."
He said it out loud, but he knew that the other knew every thought that had gone into that statement as well. There were no secrets here.
<<I don't want to cause distress, Sten, please believe me.>>
"No, you just can't help it."
<<That's not fair.>>
"Nothing about this situation is fair! We shouldn't have suffered that jump malfunction. We shouldn't have been in range of a habitable planet that gave us hope. The landing craft shouldn't have crashed. And when it did, I shouldn't have been the only one to survive!
"I shouldn't have to be here, waiting to die a lingering, painful death because there's nothing on this damn planet I can eat without poisoning myself!"
In the darkness, Sten leaned back, looked away from the pool.
<<I'm sorry.>>
"Are you saying that because you mean it, or because you read my mind and think that's what I want?"
<<Both.>>
Sten stood up, lit the second branch with his lighter, then walked away.
<<Where are you going?>>
"You know damn well where I'm going." Away from you and your damn prying.
A few minutes later, Sten was back at the shelter. He crawled inside, pulled the blanket over himself, and tried to sleep.
But another memory returned, nearly as vivid as those enhanced by the other. Rebecca slamming the door in his face after he told her goodbye. The look in her eyes, the ache in his heart. Why couldn't she understand? Traveling the stars was his life, and he could no more give it up than he could give up breathing.
To hell with her then. To hell with everything.
# # #
He awoke earlier than normal, just after sunrise, his usual routine interrupted by the argument last night and the extra sleep. He wasn't hungry, but he did go out to relieve himself, hoping as usual that he was poisoning the bush as much as the planet had tried to poison him.
It was still several hours until the next high tide, but he found that he didn't much feel like going today. So what else was there to do? He certainly wasn't going to try any more "experiments" with food. He was absolutely sure he didn't want to try that anymore.
But what else was there? What else could he do with the rest of his life on this planet?
Well for one thing, he could try to see some of it.
Sten had traveled a few kilometers up and down the coast, as well as inland, searching for potential food, but he hadn't spent much time enjoying the scenery. His eyes were always on the ground looking for new specimens.
The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him, so he pulled all of his possessions out of the shelter, and took stock.
The eight meals he knew about, sixteen days' worth if he stuck to his every-other-day plan. Lighter for fires, utility knife. He wouldn't need the pots. Canteen, of course. Blankets.
Shelter was the biggest question. The climate was moderate here, with warm days, and cool nights. He could sleep in the open with a fire and blankets, but rain might be a problem. None of the waterproof tarps had been in his section of the landing craft.
He took an hour or so to fashion a crude pack, bending some metal strips, strapping some fabric to it. He fastened one blanket to form a bag, then stuffed the rest of his gear into that. He filled his canteen from his reservoir, a section of broken bulkhead with a hollow inside.
And he was set to go. Still two hours until high tide, when the other would be conscious, but he didn't feel like waiting.
So he left.
He walked north along the shore, over a small hill behind his shelter. There sat the burnt hulk of the Glorious Rain's landing shuttle. God knows what went wrong -- he hadn't been on the bridge. Instead, he had been down in the cargo hold strapped into one of the auxiliary crew chairs. The few times the crew had used the landing shuttle before, it had been as part of a routine run, so it had never carried the entire crew before.
He suspected that the shuttle may have been overloaded. They had taken everything they thought might be useful, and while they were technically within specs, the shuttle was nearly two hundred standard years old. It was designed for over three hundred years of use, but the maintenance was already getting burdensome.
It hadn't been a priority either. Most of the heavy lifting on their planetside runs was done by local vehicles, with the shuttle reserved for personnel transfers.
By some twist of fate, his section of the craft had sheared away from the rest and had bounced further down the shore. The other 29 of his crewmates had perished in the inferno that consumed the main section. Fortunately, he had been knocked unconscious, and was unable to witness the horror.
So now he stood looking over the charred remains of his friends and colleagues buried in the ashes of the shuttle.
Inside had been materials for shelter, equipment for obtaining raw materials, lab gear that might have enabled them to discover a safe food supply. Now he doubted even that would have helped. Better for them to have perished instantly than to face his present fate. Would they have turned on each other in desperation and hunger? He liked to think not, but who can ever really know? The only thing keeping him from that kind of desperation was a lack of options.
"Goodbye. It's a beautiful world, and I'm going to try to see as much as I can, but it's not for us."
This wasn't a new Eden, as they had hoped on the long flight insystem after the malfunction. They had all talked about the day when their distant progeny would once again achieve space flight. The secret of jump drive was fairly simple if one knew where to start, so it wouldn't have been long before their little offshoot of humanity could have reached out to rejoin their lost brethren.
Dreams. All foolish dreams, conjured to maintain a false hope.
But Sten now knew the harsh reality his friends had been spared, and he envied their ignorance.
So he turned to the east, his back to the ocean and the one companion that knew what he had gone through these past weeks, and hobbled away as best he could with his splinted ankle and walking stick.
Slow and steady was all he had left, but it would do. He was going to cheat death by living his last days to the fullest. This was the kind of adventure he dreamed of as a child, and he wasn't going to waste another moment.
If there was one thing Rebecca had taught him, it was that. He had squeezed more living into his three months with her than any other three years of his life.
She had coaxed him into climbing Mt. Gareth. He had been surprised how high five thousand meters felt as he stood on the peak and stared at the breathtaking view. He had seen dozens of planets from the heights of space, but that new perspective beat every one.
He wouldn't be mountain climbing anytime soon, but he was determined to find a new perspective to appreciate just the same.
# # #
He woke with dew on his lashes. He pulled the blankets close to ward off the chill, but quickly realized it would be better to move around if he wanted to get warm. The brisk air did invigorate him, however, as he packed his kit into the makeshift pack. When he was done, he was ready to get moving and see another day's worth of landscape.
His stomach grumbled and growled, but he set off into the morning sun without opening one of his last two meals. The exertion increased the hunger, but the exercise also helped strengthen his injured ankle. He barely needed the walking stick anymore, but he left the splint on to be safe.
The going was easy today. The land continued to rise as he left the sea behind, but the slope was gentle enough.
He saw few animals, most of which looked like small mammalian cousins to one of his first meal attempts. They seemed like a cross between a monkey and a cat, just over a half-meter tall. He could still feel his tongue burning with the poison in their meat.
By early afternoon, he reached the base of the hill range he first spotted five days ago. He knew he was too weak to climb straight over, so he picked one of the stream valleys and followed it into the gently rolling hills.
As he had all through his journey, he concentrated on committing the scenery to memory, trying to avoid thinking about his other self back in the tidepool. That part of his life was over, and he didn't want to waste energy regretting his decision to leave. Still, he couldn't help measuring time in terms of high and low tide.
Later, with darkness falling, he picked a sandy beach by the stream for camp. With a crackling fire going, he laid back on his bedroll and watched the sky change from dusk to full night. Stars appeared one by one, and soon the dark sky was punctuated by the full range.
Which one was home?
But then he realized that he wasn't sure which star he meant by that question. Was he looking for Earth's sun? The sun of Barrow, his birth planet? Or the sun of Calypso, the sun that shone on Rebecca's dark silky hair, the sun that reflected off her soft brown eyes?
He opened his second-to-last meal and ate as he thought about the question. If home is where he most wanted to be at that moment, then Rebecca's home was certainly the answer. Her spirit was with him, even three years removed, and uncountable light years away.
She had probably moved on with her life. If by some miracle he were to be rescued and taken to her world, he'd find her settled down, happy, perhaps with a family. He couldn't begrudge her that life, she deserved everything he could wish for her and more, even if the life she shared was with someone else.
He did regret not being able to share the sights he had seen with her. She'd have enjoyed being the first human to explore such a world as this -- her sense of adventure was always at the fore in their relationship.
This is for you, Rebecca. It's all been worth it.
# # #
Some days later, he sat on the bank of a narrow creek observing its flow. Resembling static waves, the tiny rapids mesmerized him, carrying away any sense of time in the waters that washed over ancient stones, cascaded in endless tones and currents.
Onward the water flowed, always onward to the sea he had left behind so many days before.
How many?
He tried to recall some of the sights from his journey, but failed. They had to be there, didn't they? Had he experienced the land or hadn't he?
Worse, he tried to picture Rebecca's face, and failed. He didn't understand, she was his lifeline, his hope, how could she abandon him like this?
Why was he here? What did he hope to accomplish out here all alone? He couldn't even remember his reason for leaving anymore. His shelter, the shore, the other. The whole world may have been his, but he belonged to one place.
This wasn't it.
How many meetings had he missed? How many days had he been gone? He didn't know. How many days did he have left?
Not enough.
He didn't even know if he could make it back; the effort would probably kill him. Nevertheless, he pushed himself up off the ground and stumbled toward the setting sun.
# # #
Surf.
His imagination? Sten tried to quiet the throb of blood in his head, tried to concentrate. He thought he detected a salt tang in the air as well, so he quickened his pace as much as his weary, ruined legs would allow.
Yes! He crested the headland and surveyed the infinite gray of the ocean below. He had missed his mark, but to the north he could make out the rocky point that bounded the southern edge of his cove. Four kilometers off -- not bad dead reckoning for a dead man.
He trudged through the breeze-swept headland grass, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.
He kept peeking to his left, though. The tide was receding -- he'd have to hurry!
He tried to step up his pace to a weak jog but his feet tangled and slammed him to the ground. He lay stunned, watching as blood dripped slowly from his chin into the soil. A few minutes passed before he it occurred to him to get up again. He knew he had to be somewhere soon, but for the life of him, he couldn't imagine where or why.
Oh well, I'll know when I get there. He struggled to his feet, then lurched forward. Automatically, he locked into rhythm with the waves below him -- four steps for each breaker crashing to shore. Left, right, left, right, crash.
Left, right, left...
<<Sten?>>
Damn it, lost count!
Crash, left, right, left, right, crash, left, right...
<<Sten, can you hear me?>>
He stopped frustrated in mid stride. "Leaff me alome," he croaked through broken teeth and swollen mouth.
The voice didn't come back. Good. Crash, left, right, left, right, crash, left, right, left, right...
# # #
Crash.
"Wha?" Sten looked around, confused. He was sitting in his chair by the tidepool. Night had fallen.
<<Sten? Are you all right?>>
"How? Ow, ow." He finally noticed the injuries to his mouth.
<<Don't speak, Sten. Just think it; I'll know what you're saying.>>
He fought down the pain with a series of deep breaths. How did I get here? I remember ... walking along the headland south of here, but I don't recall the rest of the trip.
<<I'm sorry, Sten, but I had to "guide" you here. I didn't think you'd make it on your own.>>
Sten absorbed the information. He had always assumed, he had always hoped, that he was immune to the kind of possession the other used on the fish. Even under the circumstances, the idea of an alien mind taking control didn't appeal to him.
<<I didn't know what else to do.>>
Sten sighed. This wasn't the time for recriminations. That's all right. Thank you. He unclipped the canteen from his belt and swished it around. Less than a third remained.
Nothing he could do about that -- no way in his condition could he make it back to the shelter for a refill. He popped the cap and filled his mouth with half of what was left, swishing it around to rinse away the blood before gulping it down.
I'm sorry I left like that. I had no right to be angry. You are what you are, and I'm glad that part of me will always be with you.
<<More than part, Sten. Everything that I am now is because of you. I had no conscious mind before you came. I lived, but I didn't think. Without your knowledge, your memories, your experiences, your character, I would be less than the fish I eat. I hoped that the idea that you'll live on in me would comfort you, not make you angry.>>
It is comforting, believe me. You always wonder if you've made a difference in other people's lives. Most people try to do that through children, but that's not the only way. Me, I know that more than any other human in history, what I am and have been will continue in a very real sense.
But you aren't me. When I die, what I am disappears forever. You'll go on, but you'll change, you'll grow into yourself with your own experiences and memories. Your life will be very different than mine.
<<I know that now. While you were away, I had only my own thoughts to keep me company, and although they were based on your patterns, they moved in surprising directions, Sten. I found that I have plans, dreams, and hopes that have never occurred to you.>>
<<I discovered that I am me.>>
And I discovered that your existence doesn't diminish mine. You're not taking from me, you're adding a new dimension, one that I'd never have imagined before landing here.
Sten stopped, feeling a bit foolish. Philosophy was never a strength, and now he was discussing existential issues never imagined before.
<<Yes, it is a bit silly.>>
They exchanged "smiles."
<<This may be just as absurd, but I've been thinking while you were away.>>
Oh?
<<Sitting here for however long my life may last -- I have no way of knowing for sure -- luring fish into my trap, is not enough for me now. How can I accept such a meaningless existence when I know there is a universe out there teaming with intelligent life? How could I not yearn to join that community?>>
<<Unfortunately, I am rooted to this place. I can't move, can't affect the environment around me, can't manipulate objects. All I have is my mind: it's abilities, and your knowledge.>>
<<I searched your deepest memories and experiences, everything you ever learned or read, in school or for pleasure. Great masses of data that you often forgot soon after an exam.>> Another internal smile.
<<I also searched my own primitive memories of my past, as boring and uninteresting as they are. Maybe there was something I could use.>>
<<Sten, there is a way.>>
<<Each year during my mating season, my telepathy extends outward until I am able to detect another of my kind. We each then guide a fish into our grasp, but instead of stunning it for food, we coat the fish's body with our genetic seed. We then each guide the fish to each other, this time injecting the 'eggs' into the coating from the other on the fish. Then we guide the fish to a suitable site along the coast, make it scrap its body over the rocks to deposit our fertilized spores.>>
<<Pure instinct, no thought at all.>>
<<But now I have far more to offer than sperm and eggs to the others like myself. I have you. I'm sure I can transfer this newfound sentience to others. If not all at once, then perhaps little by little, year by year during this mating period.>>
<<Eventually, they will absorb everything from me and spread that knowledge farther along the coast to the limits of our habitat.>>
<<Working together, using our abilities to control and manipulate other animals, we can try to breed them to be our eyes and hands. We can select for intelligence and dexterity, for adaptability. Through them, we'll discover ways to extend and grow beyond our own limited existence.>>
<<We'll create a world capable of taking its place in the universe you came from, Sten. We'll venture into space, and perhaps, someday, we'll be able to thank your brethren in person for all they have given to us through you.>>
Sten tried to find a response, and failed. He could hardly grasp what his other had told him.
<<Crazy, isn't it? I thought so, but I have too much of your strange imagination....>>
No, no. It's wonderful. Thank you for sharing it with me.
<<It's my pleasure, Sten. I was worried I'd never get a chance to tell you. As much as it excited me, the fear of never being able to share it with you overshadowed my joy. It's too big for one person to hold secret.>>
Yes. Far too grand. My God, it could take millions of years to make it work.
<<A worthy project, don't you think?>>
Sten detected the beaming pride and reflected it back tenfold.
Yes, and hopeful. God I've needed real hope ever since we fell out of jump space. This is finally it. Thank you.
They used the remaining time of high tide to discuss and debate the details until finally, the last of the seawater receded from the pool.
I don't know if I'll still be here next time, so I want to say goodbye while we have this chance.
<<Goodbye, Sten. I'll miss you, but I'll also always remember you.>>
Good luck with the project, and never give up. You know more than me how long and frustrating it will be at times.
<<I'll remember. I'll always....>> And with that, the other was gone.
Sten closed his eyes and went to sleep.
# # #
<<Sten?>>
His eyes fluttered open, blinked at the brightness of another day, and he saw the little pool well filled with the rising tide once again.
He had another chance.
He reached for the canteen, but remembered that it was now empty.
<<No, there's water, try it.>>
Too confused to argue, he picked up the canteen, felt the weight confirming the other's claim. Finding no reason to argue, he raised it, quenching parched throat and swollen lips. Only after downing half of the contents did he wonder to ask how?
<<I've been experimenting. Look to your right.>>
Sten turned his head, saw one of the little monkey-cats staring at him from a ledge in the rock.
<<When I couldn't wake you immediately this morning, I reached out and found this little guy crawling around near your shelter. I managed to get control and bring him down to take your canteen to the stream. It took a few tries, but eventually we worked it out.>>
Great work. I'm even more sure you'll succeed with your plan now.
<<Yes, I'm pleased too. I think my first breeding project will be to achieve opposable thumbs, though. Very tough to do without them.>>
They laughed inwardly at the joke, then Sten settled back into his seat. As always, it was the image of the rolling blue-gray sea that drew his gaze.
<<It's a beautiful world.>>
Yes, wonderful.
<<I'm glad you took the time to see more of it. While I waited for you to awake, I was able to draw the memories of your trip from your mind. They help me appreciate what I have here.>>
I'm glad, too. I needed a new perspective to realize a few things.
He continued to stare at the ocean.
Every wave is so different. I wish I had time to see them all.
<<I'll remember as many as I can.>>
Thank you... for everything.
They both watched the surf, content to share its simple beauty in silence.
<<Is this how it ends? I thought death was supposed to be terrifying, that we'd fight for every possible extra moment.>>
Too much effort, Sten. It would only detract from what we have left.
<<You called me Sten?>>
Just admitting the truth. It's always been your name; I never had the right to deny it to you.
<<That was never an issue.>>
It is to me. I owe you too much. I would have gone crazy here without you. Even dying, your plan gives me hope.
<<If it's not a false one.>>
It's not.
<<I wish I was that sure. What if I lose everything without you around? Over time, the thoughts may disappear, your memories may fade, my mind may sink back into primitive nothingness. I don't think I could stand it.>>
You won't let that happen; you have too much to do.
<<I gave myself quite a task, didn't I?>>
It's worth it.
They watched a few more breakers crumble against the shore. They sensed a fish wandering near the tidepool, but they let it go on its way.
<<That seems to be a clever species. We might need it one day.>>
Sten closed his eyes. The beauty was too painful now. You'll never know until you try.
<<Do you mean like with Rebecca?>>
Sten smiled at the memory. Rebecca. How could he have forgotten her face? At least now the other Sten could help him recall the memories. No regrets -- never any regrets. Even a failure can be worth the effort.
<<Remember the time you drove her to the coast?>>
Yeah, yeah! I made that wrong turn on that side road, and I had forgotten to recharge the car.
<<She just would not believe you. It took almost two hours to convince her that you really were lost. By then it was too late to try to walk out to the main road. That night in the car, she snuggled against you to stay warm, but you were too scared to try anything.>>
I was just glad she wasn't mad at me anymore. I certainly didn't want to provoke her again. Even after all these years, Sten could feel her warmth against his body, easing away the aches, caressing away the fatigue. He concentrated on the memory, grateful that the other Sten was able to enhance it, make it almost real. He matched his breaths to the sleepy slow rhythm of hers.
<<She sure was pretty when she was angry, though -- even prettier asleep. Her hair smelled of lilac, and the soft whisper of her breath was the most beautiful music in the world. Who needed sleep with someone like her in your arms, always in your arms, eternally there...>>
The End