Who Prays for god?

Ariel awoke to the sound of raindrops splattering on the window, gentle, tapping tentatively from the seaside drizzle that often accompanied the rising of Delta Eridani. A coastal eddy lingered offshore tossing moisture and clouds landward, but the effect was cooling and pleasant. By the time the ceremonies began the sky would clear and the amphitheatre would be dry, but the debate would have started hours earlier.

On this exceptional day the rikka would be preceded by a rare period of report, instruction, and discussion. Many of the learned of Lanta had been in frequent consultation with shehama since the arrival of the humans, absorbing what they could of the data offered by the dark life. As different as the Terrans were from other bright life the Kaalysti had encountered, shehama was vastly more inscrutable, but in the millennia since communication was first established understanding had evolved to the point where some hard facts, but not abstract ideas, could be transmitted with little loss of accuracy. Part of the difficulty was the fact that concept of what constituted knowledge was vastly different for the two forms of life. There was nothing linear about the way shehama stored information, nor was it holistic; the closest analogy was, strangely, fishing. Fishing where every cast produced a catch of the exact species, weight, and size required. This made it extremely difficult for the Kaalysti and shehama to draw connections and conclusions from their correspondence. Everything from the distribution of galaxies to the nature of space inside atoms was understood to many decimal places; however, why some Kaalites chose to couple, or what shehama referred to as ixqatarli could not be remotely translated. Nonetheless, bright life learned from dark life, and dark from light, and the exchanges were often satisfying, always equitable and benign.

Months of collation had been brought to Lair-house Delta for dissemination and debate, remotely by the other houses or kreska via their infinity rooms, and in loco by the participants of the rikka, particularly by one who might teach them about the aberrant behavior of their uninvited visitors. Samthe, Mother of Delta, was up early, preparing for the unprecedented dialectic and rite. Soon after the night was banished by a struggling sun she stopped by Ariel's residence to introduce herself to the one who had come so far.

“Arrreilll,” she began, doing her best with the human sounds, “I am your host. Allow me to extend welcome. Have your needs been met?”

“I am pleased to meet you. Yes, Mother. I find your lair-house beautiful and restful. Conducive and invigorating for the tasks to come.”

Samthe briefly closed her eyes in satisfaction. “We await with anticipation your input. After you eat please join us in the chamber adjacent to the amphitheatre.”

Ariel wondered what breakfast would be like here in Delta. She bowed and said, “I will be there. Mother, may I pose an inquiry?”

“Of course.”

“When the rikka begins, my Lair-house Mother will stand for me, correct?”

Samthe replied without sentiment. “Yes.”

“Is this standard procedure?”

Again without emotion, and not seeing the discomfort in her guest. “No.”

“I have abilities in this area.”

“You are untrained.”

“Untrained by the Kaalysti. I was trained by huumaan masters on Earth.” She worked hard on the ‘H’ sound: it was difficult to pronounce in her new language, but she didn't want to resort to trilling.

Samthe considered. She of course had read the dossier Moraine's instructors had compiled on their guest and knew something of her alien education. “Trained with different tools in a different form. You are changed.”

Defiantly Ariel stated, “Correct. I am better, improved!”

Without impatience or reprimand: “Still, untested.”

“What better place to test me?”

Samthe considered. The decision had been made weeks ago, but the Kaalysti were nothing if not open-minded. “This rikka is consequential.”

“Of that I am certain, and I am in agreement. However, if I am to become a dylan of Lair-house Moraine, should I not stand for myself?”

“True, but it is not your binding to Vhong that requires defense. It is the disposition of those who brought you to us, their intentions if any, and how to proceed in the light of their actions that will be defended.”

At that point Ariel had to acquiesce. To persist would be in bad form for an apprentice, even though Samthe would never point that out. “I understand Mother. Will you join me in my morning meal?”

“I have already attended to that need,” she said, but then added, remembering something she read in the dossier, “but I am honnorred.”

With that she bowed and left Ariel to her grooming and preparation. They really have taken to that phrase she mused. Even though honor is well understood, they must find something appealing in the English sounds. In the months with her people Ariel recognized that a contemplative life doesn't exclude simple pleasures, or even humor, but like everything here subtlety reigned.

Ariel would not let a morning go by without her exercises, and she calculated that she had time for an abbreviated routine. Her precision and reflexes improved noticeably every day she practiced. Back on Earth she had hit a plateau years before her exodus, but her rebirth had shown her a path to the higher peaks of martial arts. Besides, today a good workout would ease her frustration over being excluded from the combative part of the rikka, so Ariel concentrated on a short but intense routine. Nunthe had burned the coastal fog away by the time she had worked up a good sweat. Satisfied, she took a quick shower, air-fluffed dry and put on a fresh robe, then strolled over to the dining building, just a few hundred meters from her residence. The walk was refreshing in the sun-cleansed air, through a well-manicured jungle of tropical foliage to the squat hall. Other dylans of Lair-house Delta, as well as visitors distinguishable by their attire, were eating and talking quietly. She heard music playing softly; her ears guided her to two musicians performing unobtrusively in the corner. In honor of the ceremonies these local artists had composed a piece specifically for the rikka to come.

During her studies Ariel had learned something of the arts Kaalites enjoy, from the impressionistic holographic painted sculpture to their speculative fiction to their extraordinary music. Typical of the culture the music was a mixture of delicately shifting harmonies and implied rhythms. It required a split attention from the audience as it drifted in and out of focus. Conversations would periodically stop when a cadence closed a section, then musicians and listeners alike proceeded to the next movement. Ariel recalled an Earth composer of long ago, John Cage, who considered that all random sounds occurring during a performance were part of the composition. His ideas never caught on, but in Kaalite music this was the norm, the sounds from the instruments influencing the listeners who were in turn directing the musicians: a far greater harmony than the mere superposition of pitches. The fact that the concert was taking place in a dining hall did not diminish the performance. In fact, it augmented the experience.

Ariel wasn't sure how to participate in the concert—it seemed to be something requiring years of observation—so she took some food and went to eat outside, au fresco. This was not unusual: others we also taking their meal in the morning air. But she could still hear the music, and it sang volumes of the expansiveness of the Kaalite culture, knowledge, and investigation. It stretched so far beyond what humans had ever achieved that, even if they weren't different species, the chasm between them would be too great to bridge. The gulf between cargo cults and space-faring nations on Earth paled in comparison. No wonder her dylans were completely nonplussed by the actions of Fitzroy, so few were the points of contact between theoretical physicist and Neanderthal shaman, and the concert inside drove this home. The sounds from the musicians came from an instinctual, almost racial, appreciation of the scale of the Universe, the pacing of geologic stretches of time, the contrapuntal nature of both the depths and limits of knowledge. The inexpressible expressed by the wordless tones of the composition. A primate's grunt said nothing to them, or her, anymore. Their collaboration with shehama alone gave the Kaalysti a view of time and space that permeated their society and every fiber of their being, seen in their dispassionate appraisal of problems, their lack of prejudice, and their devotion to learning. Not that their lives were cold, passionless, devoid of pleasure—their arts refuted that notion. It was that the long view of the universe provided by their intellectual pursuits so enriched them that the mundane pastimes that Ariel knew on Earth held no appeal. Millennia ago their superior technology and command of vast energies freed the Kaalites from the prosaic necessities of life, and also freed them from mindless, escapist pursuits. Everything in their extended lives was satisfying, from the bonding of ceremonial hunts to the discourse with dark life. The Kaalysti experience was rich and diverse beyond any Terran comprehension. For the changeling, this expanse beckoned stronger than any siren's call.

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