THE TWO robots had stamped out and cleared a wide, mathematically precise arena. A perfect circle.
I stripped down to my shorts and sat in the center and ... imagined. I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to be surrounded by bunnydogs. And worms.
I tried to imagine sitting naked before a curious worm. I shuddered. And not because the wind was cold.
I tried to imagine the smell of the animal. The look of it. The feel of its fur. I had touched a living worm's fur once. It had tingled.
I tried to imagine what it would feel like to stand naked before a worm. I couldn't imagine myself feeling anything but terrified.
No bunnydogs showed up the first day. Or the second.
We kept close to the chopper domes and worried.
Fletcher and I practiced. We did communication exercises, clearing exercises, confrontation exercises-things that seemed to make no sense at all, and yet... I began to feel as if I were the center of the world here. I began to feel... focused. There was a clarity of purpose developing here.
Every moment was preparation. Every moment was a drill.
Fletcher would ask me, "What are you doing now?"
And I would reply, "I'm eating."
She'd ask, "And why are you eating?"
"Because I'm hungry."
"What's your purpose in eating?"
"Taking care of my body, so I can do the job." It felt like a catechism, but-I could feel the meanings under the words. It was true.
"And what job is that?"
"Creating a relationship with the bunnydogs, a space in which communication can occur."
"Good. Do you have any other purposes?"
"I did want to ... have a relationship with Lizard-but I've let go of that now."
"Good, James. Anything else?"
"No."
I felt myself entering a different state of consciousness. The difference was profound.
I felt-in control.
As if I were creating it.
All of it. The forest. The meadow. The domes. The quiet, distant faces.
Especially the faces-they were all so detached from me. They were my herd. And I was-the leader? Not... quite. I was the ... magician.
The feeling was curious.
I told Fletcher I wanted to walk in the forest. She shook her head no.
I insisted. I said it was necessary-for me to be clear.
She said all right, but only if she could send a security team with me.
I told her I needed to be alone. I needed to feel ownership of the land-especially if I were going to invite a bunnydog family to share it.
I insisted.
She gave in. She let me walk.
I knew the team was following me at a discreet distance. I didn't mind. As long as I wasn't tripping over them.
The forest was a cathedral, green and gold.
Its ceiling was so high it was invisible-a canopy of lofty branches and dark broad leaves. God's light slanted down through the pine and the redwoods, turning the tree trunks ruddy. The beams were so solid you could feel them with your fingers. They struck sparks of golden dust in the air.
High above, cold wind played across the roof, letting the bright blue sky peek through in tiny patches here and there. The breeze rustled the leaves like an organ and dappled the light that fell to the soft brown earth below. My footsteps fell lightly on a carpet of fresh green pine needles.
I breathed deeply-and the air smelled like heaven: pine and honeysuckle and cascades of beautiful growing green things. There was no pink left anywhere.
I could have stayed here forever.
Somewhere ahead, I heard water-a stream. I followed the sound and-
The forest opened out onto a meadow.
A riot of color, gaudy brilliance, dazzling to the eye!
But such a meadow! Nothing like this had ever been seen on the Earth before!
I stepped forward hesitantly.
Purple ivy, streaked with lavender and white, curled away from me. Black shambler bushes struck silver sparks in the air. Slender red growths rose like fountains, exploding into feathery black and pink fronds.
And over everything- mandala vines.
They captured the eye, they overwhelmed the senses. They were a carpet, they rolled away in endless waves. The mandala flowers piled themselves high; they dripped from stumps of rotted trees; they hung from branches in a riotous celebration of color, a royal display.
I stood and gaped in awe and wonder. Silver and crimson, orange and indigo so dark it was black, magenta, yellow and blue, cascades of hue and shade beyond the eye's ability to differentiate.
And, oh-the smells!
Waves of scent swept over me-fresh baked bread, strawberry jam, thick fresh cream, apple cobbler, peaches-and scents for which I had no names at all. Dark purply scents laced with scarlet overtones: sweet chords of gold and opium perfume. Heady aromas of magic, sparkling spells; doorways into crystal heavens and beautiful trips through Hell.
The forest behind me was forgotten.
Dammit! Why did the invasion have to be beautiful too?
On the morning of the third day, the sensors picked up a worm on the east edge of the meadow.
A quiet voice on the radio said, "I think I've got something." We crowded around the monitors. The big display showed a smallish-looking worm poised on the high end of the slope. It seemed confused. Its eye-stalks swiveled back and forth as it studied the three mottled domes in the middle of the pasture below it. It flowed a few meters forward
-and stopped. Hesitated. Swiveled its eyes. Backward. Forward.
- We went to full magnification. The eyes irised shut and open again. Sput-phwut.
The worm half turned and looked behind itself. Then it swiveled its eyes toward us again.
I felt as if I could read its mind. It was a five-year-old child, seeing something very interesting, but not knowing if it should investigate by itself-or go tell Mommy first.
It made up its mind. This was a well-trained five-year-old. It completed its turn and headed off to the east as fast as it could go. Nothing else happened for the rest of the day.
During the night, the sensors picked up movement on the ridge, but it could have been deer or coyotes.