The Record She Left Behind. Patrice Sharpe-Sutton

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      “The galactic merge won't affect Zenobia for centuries,” Zer said.

      Brea disagreed. “It will. And it's not the merge. Mat’s orbital change and the increased gravitational pull on Earth recurs.”

      “The orbital change is a symptom of the merge,” some brain burbled.

      Orbital, scorbital. Same old arguments, Zer thought. When elders had asked them to mine iridium from the asteroid belt, no one expected meteoroid or asteroid catastrophe on Earth due to a far off effect affecting a local event. “Will Earth gravity affect us permanently?”

      “Some of you.” Leon’s words hung there silent and heavy.

      “Can't you teach us a dimensional trick?” Brea asked.

      “If you stop exo-painting long enough. If you decide on an extended visit, or anyone’s body becomes more dense or solid, I can teach the old method.”

      “Soul travel?” Brea laughed. “Went out eons ago.”

      “Barbaric nuisance leaving the body behind,” someone said.

      “Bodies are the issue,” Leon reminded them, “five hundred centuries is long enough for our people to repeat one phase of evolution. I realize most of you consider the current end cycle a myth, more an excuse to travel.”

      Brea laughed. “Our ideal is alive.”

      “And poses a challenge. We cannot influence, or interfere, with the evolution of others.”

      “Fine motto for elders, not us,” Brea said.

      Zer wondered what Leon was driving at. All Zenobians shaped light-space and affected others somewhat, though not as exquisitely as the old ones verily flowing with image-thoughts that manifested instantly, or so Leon said.

      He searched their faces. “Before you decide whether to stay, the elders sent a message. They created a problem shaping light-space after we left our galaxy.” He hesitated. “There’s only one way I can adequately tell you.”

      His eye membranes retracted, and he barred his mind. He had not pooled in a long while. He stunned them, sharing what the old ones had done. A storm swirled in their communal mind. The elders had asked them to mine the asteroid belt after precipitating dangerous asteroid or meteoroid splitting and calving. Accidentally.

      Through sacred song, the old ones had assisted the intergalactic merge, the beginnings so faint only ultrasensitive beings could register the effects. A movement as light as a spider leg grazing an arm, Leon translated, no measurable effects in Earth's solar system for ages. With the song, they’d eased the travelers’ way but modified Mat's orbit enough to wreak gravitational havoc here. The old ones had lost their keen, subtle perceptive ability.

      “Part of the lifelessness,” Leon repeated, as their minds pulled apart. “They did not intend to end an era, more to assist. This ongoing event will expand our affairs with Earthlings. Traveling here is part of the end cycle. Fifty-thousand years ago, your ancestors—”

      “Caused disaster?” Brea looked outraged, blowing exo-painted fire out his ear-slits.

      Some performance, Zer thought, wondering what he was up to. He didn’t sound outraged.

      “If we help the aliens, we risk changing our ways,” Raya said. “That's the issue.”

      “And the paradox the ancients faced,” Leon added.

      Brea burst into laughter, the first to recognize the subtlety of the old ones’ movement. “They want the merge and bi-galactic culture. That way, they too can evolve.”

      Elders routinely shaped light and events, using iridium chimes and other instruments to harmonize with the cosmos. But they’d gambled. Expanding their reach, they answered the Earthlings who'd used nuclear probes to question the universe. After the probes tore holes in the cosmic fabric between them, the elders beamed sound through the spaces to prepare for the merge. But this nudge enlarging the sphere of influence altered other events. The reformed space continuum now included a high probability for helical co-evolution of DNA among the two galactic peoples. They would be closer in nature—much sooner.

      Plus the crew had thought in terms of social co-evolution, expecting to swap cultural views. But with both peoples coming out of relative isolation, their sets of DNA could change in the same direction. So Zenobians could teach exo-painting rather than hide it. Sharing the fruits of galactic disaster was a rich response. So why, Zer wondered, did Leon look sad? During the recent disaster, many Homo sapiens had died, many had lived for nuclear answers. It was not the fault of Zenobians.

      “We’re freed,” Brea said.

      “You’re relatively free to respond.” Leon’s voice faded.

      Zer and the rest went back to pooling to celebrate, pooling splashes of thought, bubbles of excitement, and burps of realization in rapid succession. They agreed to live awhile longer than intended among their new kin. Possibilities had changed. With the accelerated merge, reduced gravity or increased radiation would surely result in faster bodily vibration of Earthlings thus technically enabling the Earthlings to turn semisolid–third- or fourth-di. With that thought, the pool flattened, and the group broke.

      Raya addressed Leon. “You're part of this venture and have information we don't. Recommendations?”

      “You checked data. How long before atmospheric conditions stabilize down there?”

      “Another Earth month.”

      Leon considered. “We can duplicate the record of events, make a gift for survivors.”

      Zer didn't think a disaster show much of a present. Nor would it preoccupy the crew. They already had sensor-sims of events recorded by crews in all quadrants of Earth. Their crew was assigned the Arizona-California sector, nicknamed AriCal. Part of California had vanished.

      “Zerera, please practice speech,” Leon said. “Most Earthlings cannot read minds. Personalize the gift by researching our sector and its people. First answer why and how.”

      She knew the litany. Leon had visited Earth before and believed concrete facts soothed skeptics of this planet. Ample evidence existed. Via sensor-sims, events had been recorded and copied into small, cubic sim-readers, showing that Zenobians had not singularly created disaster. The co-pilot had set the pyrid's sensors to scribe details of Earth's hot flashes, the eruptions, quakes, and ice fissions that upset old weather patterns. On land, the bowels and bosoms of Earth had risen, fallen, or wrinkled vertically into tall rock mountains in eight areas of the globe. Parts of Arizona had turned into flood plains.

      “Put the data in story form, with history,” Leon said. “No deliberately influencing others.”

      “We'll bend the rule as we see fit,” Brea said.

      “What about choosing contactees?” Vatta asked.

      Two crewmates wanted to wait till the smoke cleared below to find out who’d survived. The meeting ended.

      Zer stayed back and approached Leon. “You withheld.”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ