Humans

Chapter Twenty-one

Louise Benoît had been right: Jock Krieger could pull just about any string imaginable. The idea of one of his Synergy researchers getting to spend more than a week picking the brain of a Neanderthal appealed to him greatly, and Mary found every possible obstacle to a trip with Ponter falling away. And Jock had concurred with Ponter that the longer he stayed in this world, the longer they would have in order to convince the Neanderthals not to shut down the portal.

Mary had decided on driving to Washington, D.C., with Ponter; it seemed simpler than hassling with airports and all the security. Plus, it would give her a chance to show Ponter some sights along the way.

Mary rented a silver Ford Windstar van with tinted windows, making it hard for people passing them to see who her passenger was. They drove first to Philadelphia, an unmarked escort vehicle discreetly following them. Mary and Ponter saw Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, and had original Philly steak sandwiches at Pat’s; despite the cheese, Ponter ate three of them—well, Mary was going to say “in one sitting,” but it was standing room only at Pat’s, and they ate outside. Mary felt a bit strange explaining U.S. history to Ponter, but she rather suspected she was doing a better job of it than an American would have at explaining Canadian history.

Ponter seemed almost completely recovered from his trauma—he seemed not just strong as an ox, but to have an ox’s constitution, too. That was appropriate, thought Mary, with a grin: they were, after all, visiting the home of the world’s strongest constitution…

Ambassador Tukana Prat strode out onto the large semicircular stage at the front of the General Assembly hall. She was followed by one Neanderthal, then another, then another, and another still, more and more, until ten members of her race had lined up behind her. She stepped to the podium, and leaned into the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the United Nations,” she said. “It is my pleasure to introduce you to our new delegation to your Earth. Despite the unfortunate circumstances of my last visit, we all come to you in peace and in friendship, with open arms. Not just me—not just a government functionary—but ten of our very best and brightest. They did not have to come here; each chose to make the trip. They are here because they believe in the ideal of free cultural exchange. We know you had assumed a—I believe your phrase is ‘tit-for-tat’—approach: you give us something, we give you something in return. But this opening of contact between two worlds should not be the province of economists or business people, and certainly not of warriors. No, such an interchange is the natural purview of idealists and dreamers, of those who have the most lofty of goals—those who have humanitarian goals.” Tukana smiled out at the crowd. “This is already one of the longest speeches of my career, and so, without further ado, let me present our delegates.”

She turned around and pointed to the first of the ten Neanderthals behind her, a man ancient beyond compare, with blue mechanical eyes glowing from beneath his browridge.

“This,” said Tukana, “is Lonwis Trob, our greatest inventor. He developed the Companion-implant and alibi-recording technologies that make our world safe day and night for all its inhabitants. The—what you would call ‘patents,’ the intellectual property rights for these inventions—are his, and he comes to share them freely.”

There was an astonished murmur through the crowd. Music began to play through the General Assembly’s speakers, haunting music, stirring music, Neanderthal music.

“And this,” said Tukana, indicating the next in line—in Neanderthal fashion, she was working from right to left—“is Borl Kadas, our leading geneticist.” An elderly female, a 138, stepped forward. Tukana continued. “I have heard talk here about the patenting of the human genome. Well, Scholar Kadas led our equivalent of your Human Genome Project, some five decades ago. She comes here prepared to freely share that research, and all the benefits we have gathered from it.”

Tukana noted the dropped jaws on many of the delegates.

“And this,” she said, indicating a portly male, “is Dor Farrer, poet laureate of Bontar province, widely regarded as our greatest living writer. He carries with him computerized archives of all the great plays and poetry, fiction and nonfiction, iterative narratives, and imaginative transcripts created in the past by our people, and will aid in their translation into your many languages.”

Farrer waved enthusiastically at the delegates. The music was becoming richer, additional instruments joining in.

“Next to him is Derba Jonk. She is our foremost specialist in the use of stem-cell technology to selectively clone body parts. We understand that you are just beginning research in that area; we have been doing it for four generations—four decades—and Scholar Jonk will be pleased to help your doctors leap ahead that far.”

Many of the delegates made exclamations of astonishment.

“And next to her,” said Tukana, “is Kobast Gant, our leading expert in artificial intelligence. Those of you who have spoken to Ponter Boddit or myself have already experienced Scholar Gant’s handiwork—our intelligent Companions were programmed by him. Again, he comes to freely share his knowledge with your world.”

Even the amanuensis-high-warrior was murmuring appreciatively now. Cube-drums had joined the musical arrangement, pounding like hearts swelling with pride.

“And next to Scholar Gant is Jalsk Lalplun, who holds the distinction of currently being the fastest human alive—in either universe I believe. We timed him yesterday: he can run one of your miles in three minutes, eleven seconds. Jalsk will share his approach to athletic training.”

Jalsk’s smile stretched from ear to ear. The music was gaining in tempo, in cadence.

“Next to Jalsk is Rabba Habrorn. She is one of our leading legal minds—the chief modern interpreter of our Code of Civilization. Many of you have wondered about our ability to have morals and ethics without recourse to a higher being. Adjudicator Habrorn will be pleased to answer all your questions in that area.” A trio of ice-horns had joined the orchestra.

Habrorn tipped her head with great dignity. Despite Assembly-hall rules, several of the delegates had taken out cell phones and were making calls, presumably to their heads of state.

“Standing beside her,” said Tukana, “is Drade Klimilk, head of our Philosophy Academy. Do not let his brown hair fool you; he is considered one of the wisest and most insightful thinkers in our world. Between him and Adjudicator Habrorn, you will learn all about our modes of thought.”

Klimilk spoke, his voice deep and strong. “I am looking forward to it.” The symphony repeated an earlier movement, but with more volume, more gusto.

“Next to Scholar Klimilk is Krik Donalt, one of our greatest musical composers. It is her composition—called ‘Two becoming One’—that you are hearing now.”

Donalt bowed.

“And last—but, as you would say, not least—this is Dapbur Kajak, who some of your people are already familiar with. She invented the tunable-laser process that makes possible the decontamination of travelers between our two worlds. Scholar Kajak will share everything she knows about disinfecting humans, and about quantum-cascade laser physics.”

The music swelled in a crescendo, cube-drums, ice-horns, percussion geodes, and more, all in perfect harmony.

Tukana continued. “All ten of them—scientists and engineers, philosophers and artists, athletes and scholars—come here to freely share with you everything they know about their individual fields of expertise.” She looked out at the General Assembly. “Let us make this work, friends. Let us establish a relationship between our worlds that will benefit everyone, a relationship founded on peace. The past is past; our business now is the future. Let’s make it as positive for all of us as possible.”

It was, Tukana Prat thought, one of the Austrian delegates who first began slapping his hands together, but he was almost immediately joined by dozens, then hundreds, of others, and soon all the delegates were on their feet, making enthusiastic noises with their palms and mouths.

Incompetent? thought Tukana, beaming out at the crowd, thrilled with what she’d begun here today. Incompetent, my hairy ass…