There was a great light in the sky, and Maker spoke to Malé, and it made the Watchers. From each of the elements a part, from each of the Makers a word. And we knew ourselves, and we rejoiced. We gloried in our newfound knowledge, and thanked Makers most high. But we grew old, and tired of our form, and task, so Ancestor went to Makers and asked that we might see beyond. When Ancestor returned, he was sad, and told us that we might have our wish. Again we rejoiced, and thanked the Makers most high. There was a great light in the sky, descending to the earth. But it was not a light. It was a darkness, and strange animals came from the darkness, and they spread over the face of the planet. But they were not animals, because we Watched, and Saw. We Saw that they learned, we Saw that they had speech, and we Saw that they did not know of us. Again we sent Ancestor to the Makers, to ask for help. For we also Saw that they would destroy us. When Ancestor returned, he was sad, and told us that we must remain hidden. He told us that we were the Watchers, and we would know when to show ourselves.
It seemed a strange planet, though not so unlike Earth if you thought about it. It had plants that looked like trees, and waterways like rivers, and a ground covering that resembled grass. Sylvia thought that it was the curve of the horizon that made this planet seem strange. It was smaller than Earth, so everything looked small and curved to her. It was hard to believe that this was actually a new planet, her new home. Even the air had a different quality. It was thicker somehow, closer to liquid than the air she was used to. And it was incredibly beautiful.
The call went out for a gathering of the colonists, and tasks were delegated. They set up their bubble-houses, and unloaded the necessary items from the shuttle. Everyone was still somewhat sleepy, having just been woken from suspended animation. Those who had been running the spaceship as it reached the planet were unbearably perky, and they naturally took the lead. Sylvia worked as if in a dream, her mind only partly on her job. She was constantly observing, storing new experiences in her mind. There were many plants that looked familiar, so close to Earth plants Sylvia was sure they would be edible. Others were strange, and at first she could not make sense of what she was seeing. In a way, it wasn’t all that different than her first trip to the Amazon rainforest.
It was morning where they had landed, and so there was much of the day in which to begin exploration. Almost everyone had an aptitude for some sort of science, so all were useful in gathering and beginning to catalogue the plants, purifying the water, mapping the area, finding what would make the best fuel.
There was so much to do those first months. It was all more physical than any of them had experienced on Earth, and they soon became lithe and strong, good at climbing trees and deft at swiftly navigating the terrain. But for all that, no one ventured more than a few kilometers from the settlement.
Sylvia was rooming with girls that she began to think of as her family -- one girl was in her early twenties, another was Sylvia’s age, and the third was about seventeen. They slept together, ate together, worked side by side. Sylvia’s parents had stayed behind on Earth, so she felt lost at first, alone in this struggling colony. But her unit, as she first thought of them, welcomed her, and she began to call them her family.
Sylvia wandered along, her basket beginning to feel heavy, but there was still room in it, and she took pride in always returning with a full backpack. After each plant that she picked, she thought to turn back, but one more would catch her eye, and she would promise herself that this was the last one, really. The rhythm had enveloped her, like it always did, and her body went about its business without interference from her mind. It was almost like being asleep. Sylvia hadn’t realized how long she’d been gone until she felt a wetness in her shoe. How could her foot be wet? The ground was dry; there’d been no wet-fall for days. She had stepped in the edge of a swamp. She gasped and looked around herself, and realized that the landscape was subtly different from the familiar gathering grounds that she usually traveled. She started to jog back immediately, her overflowing backpack dropping a trail of leaves and roots. A faint feeling of panic stirred in her chest, but she repressed it and focused on running back as fast as she could. If she wasn’t inside the settlement before the second cycle of the star, they would start looking for her. They couldn’t afford the time lost by searching for one of the colony members.
As she ran, Sylvia searched for signs of familiar landscape. They took too long to appear. Then she spied the edge of known territory. She felt a wave of tension release from her body. She slowed to rest for a moment, and as she did so, she saw a flicker in her periphery. When she turned her head to look, she saw nothing. She decided to try the same thing, run for a moment and stop suddenly. There it was again! But it was impossible to get any kind of good look at whatever was source of movement. It would have to be investigated later. The second cycle of the star was almost complete.
The odd thing was, when Sylvia came skidding into the settlement just as the second cycle was completing itself, she saw no signs of worry among her fellow colonists. They simply accepted her presence and absence as they always did. Sylvia brought her backpack to the sorting station, and was annoyed to notice that she had lost a good quantity of leaves in her hurry to return. But the sorter made no comment. In such a small community, you know enough about everyone else without asking questions. Sylvia was sure there would be a rumor circulating by the cycle after next.
Sylvia had the next three cycles off work duty, and she spent the first one sleeping and chatting with her family. When she had returned to her bubble, Nusa was lounging in her hammock, apparently daydreaming.
“Hey.” Sylvia flopped into her hammock, “Where’re the others? I thought they had off.”
Nusa wrinkled her face. “Kieron signed up for extra duty again – I think she’s weaving or something – and Avro’s off flirting. I think she’s really taking this ‘marry early, have lots of kids, perpetuate the colony’ thing seriously”.
“Well, don’t you?”
“Not as seriously as Avro takes it.”
“Oh, come on, Avro’s always been like that. The mandate’s just an excuse to her.”
A sigh, a rustle, and suddenly Nusa’s face appeared directly in front of Sylvia’s. “Okay, what is it?”
“What’s what?”
“You’ve got something on your mind. Spill.”
Sylvia was relieved that Nusa understood. She explained the odd events of the day. Nusa passed them off as the hallucinations of a tired brain and prescribed a cycle of sleep, advice that Sylvia took to heart.
But after one cycle of sleep, Sylvia’s mind was up and at it again. What had caused that movement? The scientific part of her mind agreed with Nusa, but when you lived on a new planet, you had to learn to trust gut instincts. She pulled on gathering clothes, and took her pack along as if she was doing extra duty. But usually people on extra duty don’t go beyond the edges of common territory. Her feet fell into their usual rhythm, and she speculated. The only animals they had come across were small ones, similar to squirrels and the smaller Earth birds. But this couldn’t have been anything of the kind, because of its behaviour. But Sylvia had reached unfamiliar ground again.
She retraced her steps of the previous gathering cycle, and she noticed the same phenomenon. She noticed the same continuing motion for a moment after she stopped. After establishing that, she tried the sit-and-wait idea. Then she tried to move in the direction of the movement, but there was never anything there. Finally, after Earth-hours of trying to get a good look at the thing, she called out, “Okay, I give up! Whoever you are, whatever you are, if you want me to know about you, show yourself!”
Sylvia was never more surprised than when a fuzzy creature, looking like a stuffed bear made by someone with a twisted mind, came ambling towards her on all fours. It was about her height, with fur that looked soft, but armed with formidable claws and teeth, and it kept flicking an incredibly long tongue in and out of its mouth. Sylvia gasped. Her instinct told her to run away, but she forced herself to be calm. She remembered Earth rules about encounters with bears, and promptly forgot them. She stood still, frozen in position, and watched as the thing calmly moved toward her. When it was about two feet from her, it raised itself on its hind legs, and extended one ‘arm’ towards her. She stared at it. It stretched the hand out further, and made a sound that reminded her of “hello”. Slowly it dawned on her that this creature was trying to greet her, in her own way. But how could it know?
She gingerly held the furry ‘hand’, and said, “Hello.” It made a pleased noise, and dropped back onto all fours. Sylvia was relieved. It was much taller than her when it stood up. It began to speak to her, and though the sounds were very twisted, she managed to understand it.
“I am a Watcher. You are a human. We should not know eachother for many years.”
“Why not?”
It made a loud, frustrated and half-angry, noise. “It is not good!”
“Okay, alright, alright…”
“Humans will not live long eating those plants. I am sent to show you.”
Sylvia was still confused. “But if we’re not supposed to know about you, why are you helping us?”
“We are Watchers! Keepers!”
The creature began to move forward. Sylvia hurried to follow it.
“You – watch us? You watch everything?”
“Yes. No. We Watch. We Keep. Keep the good, Watch the good.” Talking seemed an effort for it. It did not look like its mouth was formed for human speech. “IT makes us Keepers of Malé.”
Sylvia thought she understood. “You’re the sentient species of Malé! Like humans on Earth!” It looked at her, and she knew she was right. There was intelligence in her eyes. In fact, she suspected that they might be more advanced than humans.
It spoke to her some more, and she learned that its name was Hronhara. She tried to learn more, but it would tell her nothing but the bare necessities. So Sylvia learned
nothing of the culture that knew everything about hers. All Hronhara would say was that if humans were like his people, then they too should be Watchers. If they could not Watch, then they should not have the knowledge.
Sylvia tried to explain that her people weren’t quite the same, but Hronhara just shook his head, looking worried. Sylvia was impressed – they had even picked up human expressions!
During all this, Hronhara had been showing Sylvia what she needed to know to help her colony. Apparently, the effects of the plants take a long time to establish themselves, but in a few months there would begin to be signs of harm. Also, the way they had been gathering their food would eventually decimate the environment, and Sylvia learned some techniques of how to stop this. The very laws of physics and biology were different on Malé, and normally environmentally friendly practices could do great harm. Hronhara made it abundantly clear that she was not to try to contact any of the Hron, though they would be permitted to observe.
Hronhara may have seemed menacing and strange at first, but Sylvia soon became accustomed to the physical differences. She found herself treating Hronhara like a well-known friend, and felt strangely sad when the time came for her to return to the colony.
Hronhara raised himself on his hind legs again, and touched his open palm to Sylvia’s – the Hron way of saying goodbye. It promised with its eyes that Sylvia would be able to talk to it again. Sylvia watched it lope away, then turned and ran back herself, with the new plants in her pack.
Life was going on as usual in the colony, sorting, cooking, cleaning, building, researching people everywhere. Nusa was the only one who noticed Sylvia’s return. She looked up from her work: she was pounding strips of reed to make papyrus-like paper. She said nothing, but the question was in her eyes. Sylvia likewise was silent, but shook her pack and glanced toward their bubble.
A short time later, Nusa and Sylvia were lying in their prospective hammocks, thinking about the implications of what Sylvia had learned. It wouldn’t be easy to tell about the discovery and be heard, and listened to. Nusa latched onto the idea of Watching with her customary zeal, and was determined to be the first. Sylvia wasn’t sure Nusa would have the patience or the quiet, but when Nusa was determined to do something, it got done.
This is the story of how we became the Watchers, and also the Watched. We See, and are Seen. Nusa and Sylvia were the first of their Watchers, but they were not the last. There came many after them, as there came many after Hronhara. Their descendents and ours now have no need of Watching, but we continue the practice so that we do not lose our understanding of the other. We are the Watchers, but also the Watched.
This is Teresa's Sci-fi story. Anyone who finished their sci-fi story please write a random story, about anything you want. I had an idea that we could post three pictures on the blog each month or so, a person, a place, and a thing, and we'd write a story that included all of them. Comments on that?
