Chapter 32. The Problems of Storks and Cabbages

Chapter 32. The Problems of Storks and Cabbages

“Was it really that bad?” I asked Yeva as soon as my mother stormed out of the greenhouse.

She ruffled my hair. “The melon itself is not the issue. It is just a plant with an unexpected taste and texture. The problem is how it makes you look. To me, this is exactly like the Erf I know and love. Unfortunately, the new Erf is one she still has trouble adjusting to, and the ‘meat melon’ of yours acted like a reminder.”

I slumped down and kicked a nearby rock. “I just wanted them to have healthy and well-rounded meals. Both of them are still too thin and sickly.”

“Don’t blame yourself too much: this is just a small setback. They will be fine. The meals are filling and nutritious even without your most exotic fruits; we both will make sure of that. But why plant-based meat? You do not look like one to disdain eating animal flesh. Or eating in general. At the same time, we have no shortage of it in Samat, and there are enough funds that cost is not an issue.” Yeva frowned. “Is the meat here of bad quality?”

“No. Farmers and shepherds walk their animals straight into the city and slaughter them right before sale so I do not worry about spoilage. The melon meat is simply better. It wasn’t designed to move an animal — whether to escape a predator or chase prey. It was designed for the sole purpose of human consumption. It is healthier and more nutritious without sacrificing its great taste.”

Yeva sat down on my lap, smiling slightly. “Would you tell me of your people? What made them go to such lengths? The love of food, or the distaste for unnecessary pain?”

“I wish I could say that we were a peace-loving kind that couldn’t bear to witness any pain, but the reason was much more pedestrian.” I rubbed my fingers together. “Money. And available resources. It is extremely cheap to grow a herd here on the surface. There are plenty of pastures and all you have to do is let them roam and nature would do the rest.

“On the other hand, if all that you have around is dead rock or cold steel — every plot of arable land is extremely precious. You consider meat here as a luxury; for us, back then, it was an unacceptable expense.”

“Rock and steel, huh? That doesn’t sound like a great place to live.”

I smiled slightly and pulled her closer. “It took us a long time, but we learnt how to craft our utopias rather than seek and exploit ones already present.”

“And here it is the opposite.” Yeva sighed. “Why can’t Emanai do the same instead of relying on exploiting the masses?”

“They will, in time. Remember that progress depends on exploitation: you live because you exploit things that you eat. Emanai simply relies on the quickest and most readily available forms of energy: the flow of rivers or winds, animal or slave labour. We all were like that in the beginning. Then we learnt to exploit natural resources instead and, eventually, the power of nearby stars. It is still exploitation, the only difference is that a humongous ball of plasma doesn’t care about what we do with its radiation.”

“In time, he says.” She huffed. “And what if they decide they prefer the current state of life?”

I smirked. “Well, then I will make them. I will drag them into the future kicking and screaming.”

“Are we to plan for a future revolution, then?”

I grimaced. “Fuck no. Too much blood for too little gain. And a high risk of losing the reins of it altogether. If I were to do something that significant — I would make sure that it had no chance of failure. I wouldn’t fight the slave-owners directly, nor try to outlaw slavery. I would make them unprofitable. They could choose to cling to their previous life, but they would be scrapping at the bottom of the barrel. And the only way up would be to adapt to the new environment.”

“But they aren’t so stupid they wouldn’t notice your attempts. They don’t just have wealth and power — they have magic too,” Yeva argued back.

“That is why I am not going to attempt that anytime soon. Moreover, it is hard to defend against something one isn’t aware of. If I were to describe a steam engine to Aikerim right now, she would easily grasp the concept. Electricity would take some time but should not pose a significant challenge in learning at least the general theory. She won’t be able to design electrical components but she should be able to understand what they do, why, and how. In comparison, electronic systems and boolean logic would require a completely new worldview and a decent amount of time spent studying.

“Now imagine someone who has neither me nor you to provide all that knowledge. They could react to our actions and try to throw sticks in our wheels, but they won’t be proactive about it. Or worse: imagine someone trying to understand even more complex concepts. Like neural network computations.”

“Just like that sister of Isra, Esmat. If she knew our plans, she wouldn’t have bothered with iron or iron ore and would have gone for something more critical like the caustic soda we need to process bauxite into alumina.” She chuckled and scratched her nose. “Although, I don’t think that I understand the theories you mentioned either.”

“I haven’t provided you with that knowledge yet. I felt like you have a lot on your plate even with what you already know. Neural computation is the fundamental part of living-tech as they both employ digital and analog logic whenever necessary.”

Yeva frowned and glanced at the bio-printer’s room. “Wait. So they actually have human-like neurons? They aren’t just alive but, like, alive-alive?”

I couldn’t help but smile at her wording. “They use similar methods, yes. But they do not possess the ability to think for themselves as we do. Think of them like your stomach: it is capable of perceiving certain stimuli, acting independently on them, and even influencing your state of mind in turn. But, in the end, it is nothing more than a part of a greater whole which is you.”

I stretched my arm out and let Harald’s tentacle break through my skin. “It has its own brain but all it does is provide additional processing power to operate itself at its maximum capacity. Without it, I would’ve needed days if not weeks to transfer that sliver of knowledge to you. And I probably would have screwed it up in the process. Yet without me, Harald would stay inert and likely die, just as my spinal cord would if someone were to rip it out of my spine.”

“Make sure you do not show it to your mother.” Yeva poked it with her finger. “Even I find it weird despite understanding how useful it can be. I don’t know what made your people think that growing tentacles from your wrists was a great idea.”

“Trust me, I am the tame one. There are societies in The Human Collective that modify their bodies way beyond the humanoid form. Whether with organic, plastic, or even metallic parts,” I smirked, “and I am absolutely sure that you are still underestimating how far-reaching Harald’s ‘communication’ is.”

I raised my hand to her face. “Will you trust me?”

She glanced down at the proffered tentacle and narrowed her eyes, but gave me a tiny nod nevertheless.

I let my hand caress her neck, giving Harald easy access to the back of her head. In less than a second, I felt the initial connection. Early reports on her general health and slight worry about my actions. I ignored them all: I was not there to invade her privacy nor to fix or adjust some parts of her body.

I was there to give.

Not knowledge — Yeva needed time to digest the current batch. Memory.

I didn’t bother with the glimpses of my past: they were fuzzy and hard to comprehend. The Navigator’s perception of space, especially severely augmented by the Organic AI, was overwhelming even for spacefaring humans.

What I gave her was the memory of seeing Yeva for the first time upon my return to the manor. The yearning of my heart upon seeing her face. The pleasure of my ears while listening to her song. The hope for the future as I saw that kid, Vera, listening with rapt attention to the guitar’s melody.

And the wishful vision of our children sitting just like that, all around their mother, and listening to her music.

“Damn it, Erf!” Yeva groaned and pulled me into a tight embrace. “This simply isn’t fair!”

I chuckled and hugged her back. “This is Harald’s actual power. Through him, I can communicate with almost anything organic at least in some capacity. Living tech is easier as it was designed for it, but humans aren’t that far off: after all, there is a lot of overlap in our thought patterns.”

“And you can talk heart to heart, without wasting time on words.” Her fingers gripped my tunic. “Are you trying to corrupt me?”

“Yes. I do not wish to be the only one who can communicate with the bio-printer. Nor do I want to force you.”

“So. You are the murk that tried to steal my granddaughter.” A cold voice cut through the room and I glanced up from my bowed position. Something that I’d done subconsciously as soon as I’d entered the room.

Nanaya looked like Aikerim, there was no question about the family ties there. She had seen four centuries of her life yet looked more like Aikerim’s older sister, rather than her mother. Just like Domina and Lady of the House, Matriarch was neither tall nor large. A lithe figure of my height with intense amber eyes. Her eyebrows were just as prominent as Aikerim’s.

But there were differences too. Her hair wasn’t the ruby-red of younger werfoxes, but orange. This was a mature fox with streaks of white, and possibly grey. Perhaps, in a few more centuries, she would fully shift to white just as Virnan Shah already was. They were siblings after all.

I raised my eyebrow at her tone. She was coming fast and strong in this conversation. “My Matriarch, I assur-“

“You will assure me of nothing.” She interrupted me with a swish of her tail. A familiar orb landed in her palm. “Speak plainly — did you come from the skies?”

“Yes.” I stood up straight, casting away my previous stance of obeisance. Inwardly smirking at her expression. There were many skies, and the skies I hailed from were most likely different from the ones of her gods. Yet the Orb of Truth didn’t know or care. “What are you going to do with this knowledge now?”

“Why are you a murk?” Nanaya exclaimed, incredulous. Her tail was swaying and twitching from bundled emotions. From my experience with Anaise and Aikerim — frustration, anger, desperation.

Anxiety.

I was the unknown that could make or break her Manor. Yet my perceived origin stopped her from quickly disappearing me, while Aikerim had informed her that quietly disappearing me also wouldn’t work well.

“Why do you only have a tail between your legs?” I shrugged nonchalantly. I was not willing to throw an olive branch just yet. She set the tone of this conversation and I simply replied in kind. Nanaya wasn’t stuck in the corner — she merely started to realise that easy and palatable solutions weren’t available.

“How is that even related!?”

“Through birth. The design of our bodies is governed by our parents. Whether we talk about Spark or a dick.”

The Orb agreed.

Thank you, Orb.

Although, I figured it simply relayed what I thought as the truth myself. And I was very inclined to believe that magic was genetic. I didn’t know how, but obvious mage lineages and occasional wer bastards born from murk slaves were quite telling.

“And your parents came from the sky as well?”

I kept myself still. “No. They were born here. They gave me flesh, they gave me the name, they gave me life. They gave me love. But I am more than these parts combined.”

“The daimon, of course.” Nanaya slumped and I sighed internally. “So if you had wermage parents, you would be a wermage yourself?”

“If that was the only change in my life? Yes. Or I would not exist at all.”

“Would have been so much simpler,” she grumbled to herself. “If only they didn’t exist themselves.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Am I to assume you are threatening my family?”

Nanaya glared back at me. “Are you not threatening my own Manor just with your presence already!? I will do what I must to preserve my House and you will not tell me otherwise! daimon or not.”

“Threaten!?” I spread my hands around. “Look at the opulence and wealth. This room was either decorated by my gifts to Kiymetl or was funded by the gold that I made for Aikerim Adal!”

Matriarch glanced around at the vibrant colours of the room as her hand touched the spider silks of her couch. Smooth and soft. This was a devious trick of Aikerim that I was quite grateful for. On the surface, the room looked like an opulent throne room, fit for a Matriarch to meet any of her guests.

But, in reality, the room was mine. She was not the centre of this wealth — I was. And now I made her aware of it.

My finger pointed at her face. “I gave nothing to your House but profit and power! Your brother is basking in glory as all mathematicians of Emanai are greedily watching him speak, writing down his every word. While your daughter is busy charming Emanai with new silks and colours, fragrances and glasses. Glass that even the fabled Esca clan cannot reproduce. I know. Shahin Esca Yusuf-ja knows. Knows it well enough that if Aikerim should throw her out she would come crawling on the ground kissing my feet just to keep her Servitude.

“No, Nanaya Kiymetl Ayda. I am not a threat to your House, nor was I ever before. I respect Aikerim Adal and her daughter too much to do something like that. The threat to your House is jealousy, greed, and envy. The jealousy of your other daughters, craving what Aikerim has for themselves. The greed of Amanzhan Irada, willing to trade her sister’s wealth just to fill herself with some prime wermage spunk. The envy of Sophia Chasya, who could not accept Kiymetl being above Shebet in math.”

I crossed my hands and calmly continued. “If that is all it takes to threaten you, then I severely overestimated the power of Kiymetl. Or your own.”

“My Manor is not weak!” Matriarch roared, smashing the nearby table to pieces. She stomped over to me and her finger stabbed into my chest. “Watch your words carefully, young and Spark-less daimon! Ai-kerim might be young, but I’ve seen your kind before. For all your bluster, you fall and burn just as brightly.”

“You can try,” I allowed casually. My khalat hid my fully-engaged skinsuit quite well. “Or you can ask Shahin if this murk cares about her oh-so-powerful tail. Or you can ask Ramad Kiymetl Qasam how this murk responds to being attacked by a combat-ready wermage. You can even ask Albin Shebet Chasya — the same one that Amanzhan is trying to milk and the one I consider my friend. Ask him how strong I can be.”

Her finger pressed harder and harder with every word I said, but I didn’t move. The armour held and so did my feet that rooted themselves in place. Albin’s punch taught me a lot about wermage strength and the fact that laws of physics still applied.

“So you think this gives you enough right to claim my granddaughter!?”

“Claim?” I raised my hands. “Oh no, no. You are quite mistaken in this case. Claiming your granddaughter was never in my plans — all I was looking for was a mutual agreement between myself and Aikerim. Like one between Domina and a Manor-less craftsman. Nothing more. Anaise wants to claim me.”

“Prepost—“ Nanaya suddenly stopped. “—erous...” She finally finished without any previous heat and turned away in thought.

Matriarch walked back to her couch and picked up the Orb of Truth. She twisted it in her fingers for a few seconds and turned back to me.

“Tell me, young daimon. If you are to sire a child with a wermage...will the child be a murk? Wermage? Or maybe something else entirely?”

Her eyes stared into mine as she brought the Orb higher. High enough to see the result without looking away.

“Something greater, perhaps?”