Michael Siemsen - Exigency

“ I would like to accept this honor,” Tom declared as he removed his helmet and took Aether’s place, kneeling before the aged foremother.

Unhkte looked on with approval as an aide guided Eshkowoss Peekt’s brawny appendages—first one, then the other—onto Tom’s head. Like oversized hunks of steak, they slid down his head, over his ears, and then enveloped his entire face, lingering there as cilia scanned every detail.

Aether held her breath as she watched, knowing what Tom must be feeling, wondering if he was thinking of Angela’s final seconds. She wanted to send him supportive words, or to reach out and touch him—let him know she was there beside him, distract his senses away from his face and thoughts.

Eshkowoss Peekt narrated as she explored. “Holes… breath… spikes… moist flesh… more fur…” Finally, after several minutes, the examination was over, and Eshkowoss Peekt asked to be returned to her home, adding as she was carried off, “Pleasure courses through, much delight to sustain. Listen, Unhkte… listen learn all from Syons People. City grows from thinking, not bricks.”

Unhkte gawked at Tom and Aether. “This was a matchless gift for Eshkowoss Peekt—a thing ungivable by any Threck. The pleasure was mine to observe.”

Tom wiped his face on his sleeves as he returned to his feet. “I’m certain the pleasure was all mine.” His ironic, traumatized eyes rolled toward Aether.

“Let us continue in.” Unhkte pulled one of the curtains wide, revealing a large chamber full of awaiting Thinkers, all clad in purple-trimmed cloaks.

The Thinkers’ chamber was designed as a vertical cylinder, like a grain silo, with immense stone blocks for walls. The tiered basin floor had been carved into the bedrock, a bowl mirroring another afvrik shell roof. A shallow pool of water within the deepest tier reflected the roof’s circular skylight.

There were far more Thinkers than council members, Tom had informed Aether as they’d entered the crowded room. Now, standing with Tom at one shoulder and Unhkte at the other, Aether tried to keep up with the scrolling feed of translations. Unhkte made no effort to quiet or control the hundred-plus Thinkers’ exchanges. Gazing around at all the adorned cloaks, Aether guessed that the free flow of conversation was customary, but she didn’t have time for this.

LIVETRANS: Observe the head shell…

LIVETRANS: Amoss was allowed garbless viewing. Will we?

LIVETRANS: This dialogue should be focused solely on philosophy.

LIVETRANS: Agreed!

LIVETRANS: Be mindful… they understand all we say.

LIVETRANS: Technology demonstration should be first.

Aether turned to Unhkte. “Would it be possible for us to begin?” The din of the lounging crowd hushed in seconds. “There is much to discuss.”

“Certainly,” Unhkte said, raising her arms to subdue the remaining chatter. “I observe from my learned colleagues that your garb will be the first topic, however superficial… let us put it behind us.” Unhkte slid across the polished rock surface, pointing an arm at Aether. “This one is the leader of the Syons People, called Aether.” Stifled surprised laughter from a few individuals. Unhkte signed harsh disapproval in three directions, then slid to Tom. “This one is called Tom, emissary with strong medicine knowledge, and one of our initial visitors, met with council. You may direct questions to either, or both for one to answer, or both for both to answer. We will queue by admittance—newest to oldest.”

Throaty hocking sounds and gestures conveyed the elder members’ disapproval.

Over Aether’s right shoulder, a small, Setkee-sized Threck, halfway up the natural bleachers, stood. Her cloak was clearly the brightest of the bunch, purple trim freshly dyed and attached. “Peaceful greetings to Syons People. I am the newest Thinker, admitted the day before your first arrival. I am called Atzik. My first question, for this the subject of garb, addressed to both for one to answer: Do Syons People wear one garb, whether in your home or when out exploring other lands?”

Like silent applause, the membership signed unanimous approval of the question by pressing their palms together.

“Well thought and well said,” Unhkte replied. “One modt for Atzik.” She turned to Aether. “One of you may now answer for both.”

Aether stared out at the mass of onlookers, all presumably waiting for their turn to ask a question about clothes … the first topic of this apparent interview session. She imagined hours of probing—perhaps even some brief breaks—and it hadn’t escaped Tom, either.

TOM: This doesn’t bode well for time.

AETHER: Right?! How to avoid being rude? There’s obviously no way we can do this right now.

TOM: Promise an unrestricted interview at a later date?

AETHER: What I don’t understand—why aren’t we talking about the kee burning and threckee and all that? Do you think that none of these people know what happened?

Unhkte explained to the audience, “Syons People speech is often delayed. We will address when onto language topic.”

TOM: I know. Weird.

AETHER: Unhelpful.

TOM: I’m happy to be the hole. I’ll cut in and explain that your time is precious or something. Like an assistant keeping tabs on the schedule. Say the word.

Tom’s offer didn’t instill much confidence. Delivery could be crucial.

“Well-thought question,” Aether sent to fill the air as she devised a hopefully judicious statement. She sent as she wrote, hoping for the best. “Syons People are open, honest, and obliging people. We see and appreciate your group’s cravings for knowledge and understanding—traits we deeply share. All Syons People are Thinkers, and we desire this same sort of session wherein we ask of you questions that fill in the gaps of knowledge we have regarding your city and people and history.” This was met with enthusiastic—though silent—praise. “However, today we have come here not to this end, but to discuss three specific subjects. Because these subjects are urgent, we wish to delay the start of our delightful exchange of knowledge to some future day.”

Aether observed a wave of mixed reactions circulate through the audience, though most appeared promising: curiosity, surprise, anticipation, impatience, “More.”

Unhkte appeared to absorb and interpret the consensus, then addressed Aether. “You may announce these urgent subjects.”

Aether inhaled deep as she pulled up the precomposed list, dropping it into her Livetrans queue.

“Gratitude,” Aether signed. “The first subject is that of the atrocities two nights ago. We wish to explain our experience and the events following.” Mindful of the earlier guards’ apparent lack of familiarity, she added, “If we may.”

The Thinkers bore no such puzzlement. The majority looked on without outward reaction, while a scant few beckoned her to continue. Their conspicuous lack of reaction exuded an unprecedented intensity. Unhkte motioned for Aether to proceed.

Aether unpaused the recounting. “Two nights ago, barbaric atrocities took place during your sacred keepock ritual…” concluding with “… As evidenced by the wrongdoer’s execution, Eeahso condemns this act and seeks peace, vowing to permanently end all raids on the city.”

A handful of solitary Threck bodies rose from the assembly and waited.

Unhkte pointed to one. “Proceed.”

“Where is Eeahso now?”

Half of the standers sunk back into the ranks of heads and eyes, leaving only three standing.