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"He's under a lot of pressure," Martin said.
"Hans has gotten us through some tough times," Giacomo said. "But he's
fragile. Who knows what will happen when things get tough again?"
"Don't blinker yourself," Jennifer said.
Martin looked down at the floor, hands clasped. "Tell me more about the
annotations, about whatever you think you've learned."
"Their information on other worlds is extensive. The snake mothers have told
them more about types of civilizations, levels of technology, past encounters
with different civilizations that went killer. We're still trying to work out
the implications."
"Is it possible," Martin began, face brightening, "that the Benefactors simply
built the snake mothers and the Brothers' ship after they built ours? Maybe
things loosened up. Maybe the
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Benefactors became less concerned about the Killers getting strategic
information."
Giacomo shrugged. "Possibly."
"Maybe we're being a little too self-critical," Martin suggested. "Letting our
guilt complexes lead us by the nose."
"Let's not worry about it for now," Jennifer said. "What we need to worry
about is how much in their libraries is new and useful to us. I think in a
couple of tendays, we'll know enough to make a strong report to Hans."
"You should talk with the snake mothers," Giacomo suggested. "Not Hans.
You
."
"Bring Paola with you," Jennifer said. "They may think we're more stable in
male-female pairs."
"Too bad Theresa couldn't be here," Giacomo said wistfully. "You and she,
together, would have been just what they're looking for."
"They like working with dyads," Jennifer said. "They really like Giacomo and
me."
"If we could all be in love and connected to each other " Giacomo began.
"They'd feel more affinity for us," Jennifer concluded.
Martin grinned. "We'll try to make do."
PART THREE
MARTIN FOUND TWICE GROWN IN THE SCHOOLROOM, COILED IN deep discussion with
Erin Eire and Carl Phoenix. Paola squatted on a cushion to one side and
knitted a blanket, clarifying when necessary.
"But you don't have fiction in your literature," Carl was saying. "And you
don't have poetry.
You have these symphonies of odors& I suppose they'd be like music to us. But
nothing comparable to literature."
"It has made things difficult for learning," Twice Grown said. "I we have
adjusted to thoughts that things described in your literature, in fiction, did
not actually happen. Even your recorded history is indefinite. Is it not
better to know something is truth before communicating?"
"We like experiencing things that didn't happen," Erin Eire said. "There's a
difference between writing fiction and lying."
"Though I'll be damned if I can pin it down," Carl said, smiling.
"Carl means," Paola said, lifting her chin but keeping her eyes on her
knitting, "he can't easily describe what the difference is between writing
stories and lying. But there is a difference."
Erin turned to Martin. "We're having difficulty explaining this to him," she
said.
"We we do not create situations for our stories," Twice Grown said. "It seems
possible to confuse, especially the young."
"I we " Erin cleared her throat. "I think we know the difference. Fiction is
relaxing, like dreaming. Lying, not telling the truth, is to gain social
advantage."
"We we do not dream," Twice Grown said. "We our method of sleep is unlike
yours. We we sleep rarely, and are not braided when sleeping, but we our cords
are inactive for a time every few days."
"Do cords dream?" Paola asked, looking up from her knitting.
"Cords have mental activity not accessible to braided individuals," Twice
Grown said. "They are not smart, but behave on programmed paths."
"Instinct," Carl Phoenix suggested.
"Does this make fiction a kind of waking dream, something two or more people
do together?"
Twice Grown asked, smelling of peppers and salt sea. He was intensely
interested; but Martin also detected a whiff of turpentine, and that might
have been nervousness.
"I suppose," Erin said. "One or more people make up a story "
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"But it is known to resemble the real?" Twice Grown interrupted, coils
rustling.
"Fiction is based on real settings, sometimes," Carl said.
"We're getting into pretty abstract territory," Martin warned.
"Based on real behaviors, such that it is not unlikely for humans to behave in
such a fashion?"
"Well& " Martin said.
"Characters in fiction sometimes do things real people would like to do, but
don't dare," Erin said, pleased that she had scored a point of clarification.
Twice Grown did not understand. "I we have a question about this. I we have
read short stories, and are now reading novels, which take long to eat."
"Finish," Paola suggested.
"To finish a novel. In some pages, I we see closeness with human behavior in a
story, and in reality. But in other pages, other texts, behavior surpasses
what I we have experienced. Are these behaviors not available to the humans we
we know?"
"Which behaviors?" Erin asked.
Martin wished he could end the conversation now. The smell of turpentine had
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