Michael Siemsen - Exigency

Angela had stifled a choke and now stood holding her breath beside Tom.

Tom had the M sent to Angela before Fact even finished imparting the question.

TOM: When crapping one’s pants begins to sound like the preferable choice. You’re so going to pay.

Tom quickly but carefully composed his response, sending it as he wrote.

“I must apologize if this earlier action caused any offense. Syons People have equipment for such things, and are so disinclined to its appearance and scent, that droppings are sent away in an enclosed system which disposes of it without another person ever observing it. Away from our home, lacking this equipment, I was unsure how to appropriately excrete.”

“Fascinating,” Fact said. “This sounds similar to our system. I would very much like to speak with you further on this subject.”

“And it was not offense,” Amoss interjected. “You need not apologize for excreting in uninhabited brush.”

Tom could see Angela’s chest subtly quaking in his peripheral.

ANGELA: Dying… Literally. Dying. Inside.

“Can you describe other equipment Syons People utilize?” Massoss Artsh of the Makers group.

“This is one of the topics we wish to discuss with the council.” Tom used the opportunity to segue back into the mission. Minnie had outlined specific wording for this very moment, and Tom copy/pasted it into Livetrans—a temporarily relief of responsibility. “Our people have learned certain knowledge about living things, and have found unique methods for curing illnesses in people, animals, and grown foods.” Intrigue animated his audience. “We would like to work with the Threck to adapt these cures to your people and foods, improving health and longevity, and protecting food sources from often-devastating disease. This is what we wish to offer in exchange for one small, isolated plot of land to live out our lives.”

“In the northeast,” Amoss added. “Beyond Tensakoss .”

“We do not travel that far,” Artsh said.

“I believe that is the objective,” Unhkte of the Thinkers said, speaking for the first time since her introduction. “Unlike the chattel we’ve made of our farmer friends, when this proposed arrangement is concluded, we’re not to be seen again.” She turned to Fetz. “I suggest accepting the offer and dismissing the council. This is all I have to say on the matter.”

Tom worried about the leader of the Thinkers. Though otherwise quiet, Tom got the impression that she wanted him and Angela gone. What was going on in that head?

“What else can they give us?” Someone asked.

“I say we agree to terms,” another suggested.

“They could also help improve sanitation systems,” Fact said. “Let us weigh what is most important to the city.”

“How are we to know they can deliver anything offered?” Massoss Kwossh, from the Farming group. “We have attempted countless remedies for vine rot and graying disease.”

“Let us not doubt wherewithal, nor presume the option to negotiate terms other than that offer which was surely long-devised, and from people clearly our mental superiors,” Amoss said. “They make machines which rise from the ground and fly as rocks are thrown. Their garb speaks our language with perfect tenor. Tom, setting aside some of my colleagues’ fast-accumulating aspirations, can you satisfy doubts about your remedies? Further explanation, perhaps, if you believe it within our capacity.”

ANGELA: Wheel.

TOM: Shush.

ANGELA: Just saying. Don’t bogart it like you invented the thing.

“I’d be happy to explain,” Tom replied. “As you are all very wise, I have no uncertainty as to your capacity to understand.” Almost in perfect sync, the council members’ eyes dropped and rose.

Comments and body language interpretations scrolled by as Tom composed.

LIVETRANS: Please proceed.

LIVETRANS: I want this.

LIVETRANS: Yes.

LIVETRANS: Proceed now.

“Many generations before my birth, some of the smartest Syons People of our land made this shocking discovery. Like you, we’d always been plagued by illness, both in our people and in our foods. Cities as big as yours were often stricken by invisible killers. The very smartest of them could not discern the source. But one day, one man discovered that these killers were not invisible, but extremely small—so small that they could not be seen by Syons People’s eyes.”

Threck eyes hid.

Tom hurried to write the rest of the story.

LIVETRANS: Continue.

LIVETRANS: More.

LIVETRANS: Interesting.

“Another smart person, years later, connected these tiny lifeforms to molds that grew on food and to the passage of disease from one animal or plant to another. And finally, yet another researcher discovered that there were ways to kill these things which no one could see, using other little things invisible to the eye. Remedies were created, tested, and sent all over. This series of discoveries improved all Syons People’s lives. Now, we need only study your foods and ill, and we can create remedies for the Threck people.”

The council was silent, staring.

ANGELA: Well done. Waaaaay more longwinded than necessary, but I think they get it.

Amoss stepped slowly forward as the other council members shared glances. “Tom, where are Syons People from?”

Asked and answered, Tom thought. Well, answered with a lie, but how would they know?

“As I said, we are from distant northern land, as far away as one can imagine.”

“But this is not true,” Amoss said. “Threck have travelled to all lands, and unless Syons People live in Hynka Country, there is no place for these Syons cities. So I ask… where? ”

Tom had no clue how to answer. There was no protocol for this other than to stick to the guns, resting assured that technically it was partially the truth. They were from an unimaginably distant land.

ANGELA: Crap! Are you going to tell them?

TOM: I can’t!

“Tom,” Amoss began again, slowly rocking side to side. “How much time have Syons People spent with farmers?”

This he could answer. “Not long. We arrived just before your harvesting group.”

“And how much time have Syons People spent with the sea people? Those who call themselves Seekapock?”

“None, no time.”

Amoss stopped moving, dark eyes fixed on Tom’s. “And how much time have Syons People spent with Threck?”

“As long as we’ve been here. Since meeting you.”

“Yes. So how do Syons People speak Threck language with such delightful precision?”

“We learn from listening. Our garb is able to keep words. Then we say them.”

ANGELA: Wow. That was terrible.

He ignored her. He was burying himself and “Syons People” deeper and deeper.

“Enough, Amoss.” Unhkte stepped forward. She moved right up to Angela, her droopy eyes shifting up, down, and around, and then turning to Tom for the same once-over. At this distance, Tom observed several faint scars on Unhkte’s head, like an old shark that had once tried to eat a ship’s propeller. “You know much about Threck, do you not?”

“We know some,” Tom replied. “From observation. Probably not as much as you think, though.”

Unhkte faced the wall, eyes roaming the ceiling. “Do you know how Threck are born?”

Tom struggled with his response, deleting and rewriting before reluctantly settling. “There is a cycle in fertile individuals. During fertilization, they experience increasing stiffness, leading to full paralysis while eggs—”