Orson Card - Ruins

At once small arched doorways appeared in the baseboards of the room. Dozens of mice, white, brown, black, tan, yellow, red, swarmed out onto the floor, and many of them came up onto the tables.

“Can you show us sculptures from the Greeks of Earth?” asked Mouse-Breeder.

Rigg wasn’t sure which mice made the change, but suddenly the sculptures in the four corners of the room changed to brightly painted, lifelike, life-sized stone sculptures. Yet when Rigg put his hand out to touch one, his fingers passed within the “stone.”

“Illusion,” said Olivenko.

“Trickery,” said Param.

Loaf only chuckled.

“You knew,” said Rigg.

“The mask was not deceived,” said Loaf, “and so I saw the difference between the dancing light of the illusion and the solidity of the walls.”

“But you still see the beauty of the art?” asked Swims-in-the-Air.

“As much as I ever could have without the mask,” said Loaf. “It adds nothing to my appreciation of artificial beauty.”

“So art does not speak to you?” asked Mouse-Breeder.

“Your art with the mice speaks to me very clearly,” said Loaf. “The mice only understand your language, am I right?”

“They’ll learn yours quickly enough,” said Mouse-Breeder.

“But when the Visitors come, they won’t be able to get access to any of the books that are invisibly stored in this place.”

Mouse-Breeder nodded, his smile even slighter, if that were possible. “Only with the help of the mice can anyone find any book or diagram or map or work of art in all of Odinfold.”

“So if someone killed the mice?” asked Umbo. “You’d lose your whole library?”

“You must have another way,” said Olivenko. “Another key to the library.”

“Something mechanical,” said Loaf.

“No,” said Swims-in-the-Air. “Back doors can be found. Machines can be discovered. No, it’s mice and mice alone.”

“But we’re mindful of the chance of loss,” said Mouse-Breeder.

“He’s too modest to tell you himself,” said Swims-in-the-Air. “These mice are actually a genetic hodgepodge of astonishing variety. More than three thousand species, and no two in this room are genetically close. A disease that wiped out all the mice of any one species, or even all the closely related species, would still leave most of the mice untouched.”

“If you have three thousand species,” said Olivenko, “how many individuals are there of each?”

“We can’t count them all,” said Mouse-Breeder. “They reproduce like mice, you see, and then they teach their children how to manipulate the electronics, so nothing is lost. The great prairies of Odinfold have thousands of different kinds of grass, and the mice thrive on all the seeds. There are hundreds of billions of mice.”

“So where three billion humans once lived . . .” began Olivenko.

“A hundred times as many mice. And also the owls and foxes, ferrets and cats that feed on them, and the hawks and eagles and wolves that feed on them ,” said Mouse-Breeder. “And grazing animals to keep any one grass from crowding out all others, and the great cats that feed on the grazing animals, and the hyenas and other scavengers that gather at their kills. Our great wallfold is a garden of life, dotted with the ruins of our ancient civilization, and only tree-dwelling yahoos to show that humans once lived here.”

“An elegant disguise,” said Rigg.

“Which failed,” said Mouse-Breeder. “And so we bring you to our library, in hopes that you can find a better way.”

“I take it the mice will bring us books,” said Olivenko.

“Just say what you want to study—the topic, the source, a specific title, an author, or even a question. Sit at the table, or lean against a wall, or ask while you’re walking, and the mice will cause the book you want to appear before you.”

“Mouse-Breeder is our best librarian,” said Swims-in-the-Air.

“She means the best one living,” said Mouse-Breeder, “because our ancestors designed and built and collected so well and thoroughly that there was hardly anything left to do when I came along.”

“So using intelligent mice for access is just a bit of decoration?” asked Olivenko wryly.

“I want to see a book,” said Rigg.

Instantly there was a book lying on the table. And then another, and another, two or three appearing, another disappearing, as if the books were works of sculpture being displayed in rapid succession.

“This one,” Olivenko said, putting his finger into one. At once it rose into the air, exactly the right distance from his eyes for comfortable reading. It opened. “ Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World ,” said Rigg. “By Jonathan Swift.”

“Commonly known as Gulliver’s Travels ,” said Mouse-Breeder. “Part four, chapter one, in which Gulliver meets the Yahoos.”

“You can’t expect us to believe that he happened to choose that title by chance,” said Loaf.

Mouse-Breeder looked pained. “Of course not. No matter what book he chose, it was going to contain Gulliver’s Travels .”

“Is that what we’re required to read first?” asked Param.

“You’re not required to do anything at all,” said Swims-in-the-Air. “The only way this will work is if you freely choose for yourselves, follow up on whatever interests you. Of course, we expect your most important results will come from studying the culture of the society that launched the colony ships—to us, eleven thousand years ago, but to the Visitors, only half a generation.”

“But I can study the history of Ramfold if I want?” asked Param.

“If you wish,” said Mouse-Breeder.

“And I can study the wallfold where Knosso was killed?” asked Olivenko.

“Unfortunately, they have no writing,” said Mouse-Breeder ruefully. “We can’t collect oral histories from other wallfolds, because our machines can’t pick up sounds. Only things that persist in time.”

“What if I want to roam through Odinfold,” asked Loaf. “To see this place for myself?”

“Go where you want,” said Swims-in-the-Air. “But you should be careful. The predators have no fear of humans, which means they have no respect for us, either. We look like meat to the larger ones, and we carry no weapons.”

“I do,” said Loaf.

“And how effective will they be against a pack of wolves? A pride of lions? A troop of hyenas?” Mouse-Breeder shook his head. “Of course, if you’re killed, your friends can go back in time to rescue you, but it seems a waste of time.”

“I’m not going hunting,” said Loaf. “I want to see the prairie you describe.”

“It’s interesting for about a day,” said Mouse-Breeder. “But be our guest. There are no restrictions. Whatever you think you need to know before you meet the Visitors. Or whatever you simply want to know to satisfy your own curiosity. All our plans have come to nothing. We have no plans for you, beyond providing you with access to all the information we have.”

“Then I want to learn how the starships work,” said Umbo. “And all about the machines that govern them.”

“It’s a lifetime’s study,” said Swims-in-the-Air.

“And your lifetimes are shorter than ours,” said Mouse-Breeder.

“I don’t have to learn how to build one,” said Umbo. “But I assume that the design of whatever the Visitors use to come here will be based on the same principles. They rely on machines, as you do. More than you do. Right?”

Rigg was surprised that Umbo had thought of such a project, and seemed determined to pursue it. Umbo had no particular education in science and technology. He would be duplicating the kind of education that Father had given Rigg as they wandered the forests. Rigg well knew what effort it had taken him with the best teacher in the world.