Return to Eden

CHAPTER FIVE

When Ambalasei woke this morning she was not rested, still felt as tired as she had when she had closed her eyes at dusk the evening before. She was not at all pleased with this for she knew that she was no longer a fargi fresh from the sea. Or even a young Yilanè, for that matter, filled with the fresh juices of life. She was old, and for the first time that she could remember she felt old. What was the Yilanè lifespan? She did not know. Once she had attempted to do research on this topic but eventually had been forced to admit failure. No records were ever kept about major occurrences: no individual Yilanè would even hazard a guess as to how old she was. Ambalasei had recorded events for ten years, using the constellations in the night sky to mark the passage of each year. But some of the Yilanè she was recording had left the city, some had died — and eventually she had lost her records. How long ago had this been? She did not know — for she had not even kept a record of this.

“It is not in the nature of the Yilanè to take note of the passage of time,” she said, then pulled a water-fruit to her and drank deep.

Nevertheless she was old. Her claws were yellow with age, the skin on her forearms hung in wrinkled wattles. It must be faced. Tomorrow’s tomorrow would continue to be like yesterday’s yesterday, but on one of those tomorrows she was not going to be around to appreciate it. There would be one Yilanè less in this world. Not that anyone would care, other than herself, and she would be past caring. She champed her jaw with disgust at this morbid thought so early on a sun-drenched day, reached out and pressed hard on the gulawatsan where it clung to the wall. The creature made a highly satisfactory blare of deafening sound and very soon after that Ambalasei heard Setessei’s claws on the flooring, hurrying close.

“Ambalasei begins her labors early. Do we visit the Sorogetso again today?”

“We do not. Nor do I labor. I shall indulge myself in a day of contemplation, enjoying warmth-of-sun, pleasures of mentation.”

“Ambalasei is wisest of the wise. Fargi work with their bodies, only Ambalasei has uniqueness of mentality to labor with thoughts alone. Shall I paint your arms with designs of delicacy to show all that that labor of limbs is beneath you?”

“Excellence of thought: appropriateness of suggestion.” When Setessei hurried off for her pots and brushes she looked back with pleasure to see that Ambalasei had found a spot in the sun, had sat back on her tail and was relaxing in the warmth. This was very good. But when she turned around again she found her path blocked by a thin Yilanè whom she knew far too well.

“I heard a great sound from the place where Ambalasei works/sleeps. I wish to speak with her,” Far! said.

“Forbidden/wrong/disastrous,” Setessei said with added modifiers of firmness of commands.

“It is a matter of some importance.”

“It is a matter of greater importance that Ambalasei be not spoken to by anyone this day. This is an order spoken by me for Ambalasei. Do you wish to ignore this order?”

Far! began to speak, remembered the wrath of Ambalasei, changed her mind and signed negation.

“Very wise,” Setessei said. “Now go through the city and tell the others you meet to make clear to all that none shall approach or speak to great Ambalasei while the sun is in the sky this day.”

The sun was very comforting; Ambalasei relaxed and enjoyed it to the utmost. A period of time passed before she was aware of the light touches on her arms and opened her eyes to look with approval upon the designs being traced there.

“This is a day of great importance, Setessei. Already cessation of physical labors, inauguration of cerebration has produced important results. I must now look upon this city I have grown and take note of its fecundity.”

“I have ordered with some firmness that you are to pass through the city undisturbed.”

“You are the perfect assistant Setessei. You recognize my desires even before I do.”

Setessei lowered her head in humble acceptance, her crest flaring with color. This day must be remembered for never before had Ambalasei spoken in this manner to her. Approval of labors/acceptance of assistance was all she required.

Her thirst slaked, her arms painted, Ambalasei strode forth into the city of Ambalasokei that she had created on this hostile shore. As she passed through it she observed and took note of its growth and none spoke nor approached her.

From the thick trunk of the spreading central tree the city stretched out in all directions. Within the embrace of its branches and roots hundreds of other life forms grew, interacted, proliferated. Water was drawn up from the roots to the protective canopy of leaves above, was tapped by the water-fruits, fed to commensal plants, drunk by symbiotic animals. Ambalasei walked on the living mat of the floor kept clean by the hungry insects below. Saw the fruit groves that fed the small flock of elinou in their fenced enclosure. Her slow progress took her to the riverbank and the strong dock where the uruketo lay, looking at her blankly with a large bone-ringed eye. On she went to the wall of thorns, now flourishing and high, a thick protection against any intruders.

Here she turned away from the water and followed the living wall across the isthmus to the other shore. The nets were being brought in and a gigantic eel was just being dragged ashore. It moved its body in slow coils, but represented no danger since it had been stunned with the toxin Ambalasei had provided. Into the city again and past a sealed doorway. Seeing this she stopped, immobile, resting on her tail for a long while. When she looked at the door that had never been opened its significance became immediate and her thoughts went far beyond it. The sun moved in its slow arc across the sky until the shadow of a tree enveloped her and she became aware of the chill. With this she stirred to life, went into the sunlight again. When the heat had warmed her she walked on. She passed a grove where wild flowers grew between the trees, stopped and thought about their significance, their novelty. Of course — there were no other groves of decorative flowers as one found in other Yilanè cities. Perhaps flowers were like arm-painting, too frivolous and unimportant for the very serious Daughters. She walked on and made her slow way to the ambesed. Here, where the heart of the city should have pulsed with life, she found only emptiness. There, on the warmest part of the sun-facing wall, where the eistaa should have sat, there was only rough bark. With even slower tread she crossed over and leaned her back against the bark in this, the chosen spot. Stood wrapped in thought until a flicker of motion penetrated her concentration. She turned one eye towards the Yilanè who was passing through the ambesed.

“Attention to speaking!” she roared in her cracked voice. The Yilanè stopped, startled, turned to face her.

“To disturb you is forbidden…”

“Your talking-not-listening is all that disturbs me. Silence and attention to orders given. Find Enge instantly. Tell her presence required imperative. Go.”

The Daughter of Life began to speak of Ugunenapsa’s principles concerning the giving of orders, saw the grim shaping of Ambalasei’s body, thought better, closed her mouth and hurried away.

Ambalasei relaxed and enjoyed pleasure of cogitation, lack of physical labors, until a movement penetrated her thoughts. Enge stood before her, arms curved in expectancy of orders.

“You shall have them, Enge. A time of decision has come. I wish to meet with those few Daughters of some intelligence to discuss the future of this city. I shall tell you the names of those whom I wish to be present.”

“Difficulty of ordering, great Ambalasei. The Daughters of Life see equality in all. Decisions must be made by all.”

“That is for you to do if you wish. After I have talked to those whom I wish to talk to. Do you find difficulty in arranging this?”

“There is difficulty, but it shall be done as you have commanded.”

“Why difficulty?”

“Each day the Daughters grow restive in following your orders as though you were an eistaa. They say the city is now fully grown…”

“Spare me their thoughts. I am well aware of what they think and that is why I want this meeting with those of my own choosing. You will be there, as well as my assistant Setessei, and Elem who commands the uruketo and respects knowledge. And Far! who represents the thoughts of Ugunenapsa at their most simplistic and argumentative. Are there others of intelligence you wish to be present?”

“With gratitude, there are. Efen, who is closest to me. Omal and Satsat as well for we are the only survivors of those who were sent to Alpèasak.”

“Let it be done. Order them to attend now.”

“I shall request their presence with suggestions of urgency,” Enge said then turned and left.

Ambalasei’s quick anger was replaced by appreciation. A Yilanè of some intelligence. If only she could rise above thoughts of Ugunenapsa she could be a scientist of note, an eistaa of a great city. It was an incredible waste.

They arrived, one by one, the last two hurrying up with mouths agape since they had come the greatest distance. Ambalasei looked at them in silence, then twitched her tail in the quick motion that signified attention.

“And silence as well, particularly you, Far!, for you are a born interrupter, until I have finished speaking. I will tell you of matters of some importance. And then you will speak to me in response. Then, as Enge has informed me, all of the sisters will talk to each other at once and at great length but I will not be there. Now listen in silence, interruption forbidden. Like all great thinkers and speakers I go from the general to the specific, from observation to conclusion.

“Observation. Look around you. Do you know where you are at this present moment? Of course you do for you are Yilanè, and every Yilanè knows of the ambesed for every city has an ambesed. The chromosomes for its growth were there in the city’s seed, as were those of the hanalè. I went there today and looked at the door that has never been opened for there are no males here to be locked away behind that door.”

She paused for a moment so they could think about these facts and saw that Far! was poised for speech. Until Setessei, who had anticipated this, trod hard on her foot. Ambalasei registered silent approval; a perfect assistant, then moved in disapproval as she saw only blankness in their bodies.

“You have minds and do not use them. I give you facts, but you do not draw conclusions. So I will have to do your thinking for you as I have done in the past, as I will undoubtedly have to do in the future.

“The conclusion inescapably reached is that this is an incomplete city — just as you Daughters of Disability are an incomplete society. Ahh, you stir with disapproval and lack of understanding. At least you are listening. Explanation/definition of a society. This is a technical term of which you will be ignorant, as you are ignorant of most things. A society is a closely integrated grouping of organisms of the same species, held together by mutual dependence and showing division of labor. Examples follow.

“Insects. The anthill is a society with workers, soldiers, larval attendants, an eistaa to produce eggs, a group working in harmony. Observe as well the ustuzou deer where a large horned male keeps predators at bay so the females can bear young. Think of an efenburu in the ocean where all the elininyil work together in the pursuit of food. That is a sufficiency of examples. Now think of the city where you went as fargi, grew and became Yilanè. It was shaped as all cities, like this city, with an ambesed where the eistaa ruled and ordered. A hanalè to contain the males that would guarantee the continuation of the city when the time came for them to go to the beaches. That is what a living city is — a viable society. I still see blankness of knowledge. A viable society is one that lives and grows and never dies.”

Ambalasei looked around and registered disgust at her silent audience. “And what do you have here? You have a dead society. A city that lives only when I order it, that will die when I leave it. And a system of dying beliefs because Ugunenapsa’s words will die when you die. Perhaps it is correct to call you Daughters of Death. Because you will die and the words of Ugunenapsa will die with you. Which I, for one, am beginning to think is not a bad idea at all.”

She nodded approval at her gasping audience, the inadvertent body movements of disapproval and disagreement. “Now,” she said with certain overtones of appreciation of entertainment to come, “now that I have drawn your attention to matters imperative, it is your turn to talk.”

There were churning limbs then, and cries of attention to speaking. Only when Enge signed urgency of speech did the others cease their protests. She indicated Ambalasei with movements of appreciation as she spoke.

“You must replace anger with gratitude to wise Ambalasei who sees all, knows all. Do you kill the messenger who brings the bad news? Is this what Ugunenapsa has taught you? We thank Ambalasei for pointing out the truth of our existence, the realities of our lives. A problem can be solved only when one is aware of the problem. Now we can turn all of our intelligence to its solution. We must search for the meaning in Ugunenapsa’s words for I know the answer must be there. For if it does not lie there we die — just as Ambalasei has said.” She raised a thumb, held it high.

“One problem with two sides. Both sides are blank, empty, and we must fill them. We stand in one emptiness, the ambesed. We will not have an eistaa — but we must have a system of order to this city, order as represented by the ambesed. This problem we must solve first. Only when this has been done can we address ourselves to the empty hanalè. When we order our thoughts we will order our lives. When we order our lives we will order the city. Then, and only then, can we consider the continuity of this city. Again Ambalasei is terribly right. What do we have here? A city of perfect harmony — and perfect death. We will grow old and die, one by one, and only emptiness will remain. Think on it.”

A shiver of pain moved through the listening Yilanè, sparing only Ambalasei who nodded with grim approval. The Daughters of Life were now as silent as death. Except for Far! of course. Her voice was shrill with emotion, the movements of her limbs erratic with stress. This did not stop her from speaking.

“I hear what you say, Enge, but you are misled. Ambalasei may be a scientist of knowledge, but she is not a follower of Ugunenapsa. That is her fault and her failing. Now she misleads us with talks of an eistaa and of the eistaa’s rule. This we have rejected, and our rejection has led us to this place. We listen to Ambalasei corrupting thoughts and we forget Ugunenapsa. We forget Ugunenapsa’s third principle. The Efeneleiaa, the spirit of life, which is the great eistaa of the city of life and we are dwellers in this city. We must think of that and reject Ambalasei’s crude city with its ambesed and primitive hanalè. She misleads us when she speaks to us of these things. We must turn our backs on her and turn our faces to Ugunenapsa and follow where she leads. We must go forth from this ambesed and seal its entrance, just as we must grow vines over the door to the hanalè for we have no need of either of them. If this city is wrong for us then we must leave this city. Go to the beaches and the forests and live free as do the Sorogetso. We need no eistaa, we need no captive males. We will go to the shore when the young efenburu emerge from the waves. Speak with the fargi while they are still wet from the sea, lead them into the light and the life that is ours under the guidance of Ugunenapsa…”

She stopped speaking, shocked, as Ambalasei made the rudest sound known, spoke the coarsest phrase ever heard, moved her limbs in the most gross insult ever conceived.

“Your thoughts are like the excrement of a thousand giant nenitesk, a single turd of which would fill this ambesed,” Ambalasei thundered. “I ordered you to think — not proclaim your world-filling stupidity. Leave the city? Please do that — to be eaten by the first carnivore to pass this way. Greet the emerging fargi at the ocean’s shore? Do that — but you will have a very long wait since the nearest birth beach is an ocean away.”

She moved slowly about to face every one of the Daughters in turn, her body arched with contempt, her claws tearing great grooves in the ground as she moved in uncontrollable anger.

“I leave you now since I will hear no more of this stupidity. Speak it to each other after I have gone. This city is yours, your lives are yours. Decide what to do with them. You will have all the time you need for I go now to sail with the uruketo up the great river on a voyage of exploration. It is also for my health’s sake for it is being destroyed by you Daughters of Desperation. Now, you, Elem, do you guide the uruketo for me or must I also do this myself?”

In the shocked silence that followed every eye was on the commander of the uruketo. She stood, head lowered in thought for some time. Then she spoke.

“I follow Ugunenapsa wherever she may lead me. I am also a follower of science and follow where that leads as well. Ugunenapsa and science led us here, both embodied in Ambalasei who has made this city and our life possible. Enge, and others here, are wise in the interpretation of Ugunenapsa’s words. I will follow where they lead, so I need not be here while you decide. Therefore I will guide and protect Ambalasei while you consider our future. I think Far! is wrong because Ambalasei speaks only the truth. I say do not listen to her. Find a path into tomorrow that both Ambalasei and Ugunenapsa may tread. That is what I have to say and now I will go.”

She turned and left the ambesed. Setessei hurried away as well for many preparations must be made for the voyage. Ambalasei followed at a more leisurely pace, turning before she left since she always had the last word.

“You hold your future between your thumbs, Daughters of Despair. I think you will all die because you are too stupid to live. So — prove me wrong. If you can.”

Lanefenuu, Eistaa of Ikhalmenets, sat in her place of honor in the ambesed, the great carving of uruketo and waves rising up behind her, and was not happy. Not at all. This was her ambesed, her city, her island. Everything that stretched before her or around her was hers. Cause for pleasure once, cause for blackness of humor now. She looked past the walls of the ambesed to the trees beyond, where they climbed up the slopes of the long-dead volcano. Up to the snowcapped summit, hideously white all of the way through the heat of summer. Her body arched and writhed with movements of hatred, so much so that Elilep who was painting her arms had to move aside quickly or be struck. The other male, who had carried the tray of pigments, shivered delicately at Lanefenuu’s strong emotions.

She saw the movement, looked at him with one eye, then back to the mountain peak. An attractive male, delicate. Perhaps she should take him now? No, not this day, not the day when it all ended.

Elilep was trembling now as well, so much so that the brush in his hands was unsteady and he could not control it.

“Finish the painting,” Lanefenuu ordered. “I wish the mountain and the ocean there on my chest, in the greatest of detail.”

“Great Eistaa, it was said that we leave this island today.”

“We do. Most are gone. When we board the uruketo we will be the last.”

“I have never been in a uruketo. I am afraid.”

Lanefenuu fingered his crest and signed abandonment of fear/reasonless. “That is only because you are a simple male, plucked from the sea, raised in the hanalè, which is the right and proper thing. You have never left this island — but you shall now. All of us. We will cross the ocean and I command you to abandon fear. We go to the city of Alpèasak which is larger than Ikhalmenets, is rich in new/ delicious animals, has a hanalè of pleasurable size.”

Elilep, who was sensitive to others’ feelings, as were most males, was still not calmed. “If this distant city is so fine why does the Eistaa show anger and grief?”

“Anger at the whiteness of winter that drives me from my city. Grief that I must leave. But enough. What is done is done. Our new city awaits us on the shores of distant Gendasi*, a city of golden beaches. Far superior to this rock in the ocean. Come.”

She stood and stamped across the ambesed with the males scurrying after her. Head lifted, filled with pride and strength. Perhaps it was best to leave this ambesed forever, leave this place where the ustuzou had humiliated her, ordered her obedience. She snapped her thumbs at the memory, but remembered as well that there had been no choice. Two of her uruketo dead. She had had no choice. Better the conflict to end. Enough had died. If she had not listened to Vaintè’s counsel none of this would have happened. Her body writhed as strong emotions seized her. It was part of the past and could be forgotten along with this city and this island.

Her uruketo waited, the others had already left as she had commanded. She ordered the males aboard, started to follow them, turned back to look despite herself. The green below, the white above.

Her jaw gaped with powerful emotions — until she snapped it shut. Enough. It was over. Her city was now warm Alpèasak. Winter could come to Ikhalmenets. It was no longer her concern.

Yet she stayed on top of the fin, alone, until Ikhalmenets finally sank into the sea and was gone.