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.""Then Justine's death, my part in the Pilot's war - it was all madness, wasn't it? A stupid mistake?""It was a tragedy," I said."Yes, it's ironic." His fingers were working the heavy brows above his eyes."After Justine wasabandoned, after I hit her, there was no going back, not for us, not for me.That was the worst momentof my life.So, this Alaloi body of mine - it could have been resculpted but it was kept to remind me.As a penance, you see.And now, if not for this thick body and your help, well, the water would havekilled me." Although each of us had slid towards the opposite edges of the furs, we were still very close.Ismelled his breath, which was rank with coffee and ketones, the stinking result of our all-meat diet, ofour bodies burning protein for glucose.I smelled other things about him, mainly anger, fear, andresentment."You shouldn't have helped me," he said, "but you couldn't help helping me, could you?It's your revenge.""No," I said."Yes, you love feeling holy about yourself, don't you?""What do you mean?" I asked, though I knew exactly what he meant."Even before you had the slightest reason.Do you remember that night in the bar? When Tomothcalled you a bastard? You couldn't help your temper, could you?""I had no self-restraint, then.""'Heredity is destiny,'" he quoted."I don't believe that," I said as I held a spitted sweetbread over the fire."What do you believe?""I think we can change ourselves, rewrite our programs.Ultimately, we're free.""No," he said."You're wrong, Life is a trap.There's no way out."He was quiet while he sat up munching the crusted organ meat.He was deep in thought.His lean,hairy stomach rose and fell, rose and fell, as he sucked in the relatively warm air of the hut.Heswallowed and said, "Let's talk about the Fravashi, this favored alien race of yours.The Timekeeperwould have banished all of them from the City, if he could.Their alien teachings, this notion ofultimate fate, of - what do you call it? - of ananke.You've listened to them more than a man should,haven't you?"I had never heard Soli wax so philosophical before, so I let him continue: "Free will? Have youthought about that term, the way the Fravashi use it? It's an oxymoron, as self-contradictory as a'cheerful pessimist' or a 'happy fate" If the universe is alive and conscious, as you believe, if it movesitself toward.if it has a purpose, then we're all slaves because it moves us towards that purpose as ifwe were pieces on a chessboard.And we don't know anything of the higher game, do we? Yes, and sowhere is the freedom? It's fine to talk of ananke, of this merging of our individual wills with thehigher - is that what you believe? - but for human beings, ananke means hate, desperate love, despair,death.""No," I said, "you don't understand."He spat a piece of gristle against the packed-snow floor and said, "Enlighten me.""We're ultimately free, not totally free.We're free within certain bounds.In the end, our individualwills are a part of the will of the universe.""And you believe that?""It's what the Fravashi teach.""And what is the will of the universe?" he asked as he dumped a handful of snow into the coffeepot.Outside, the storm was drowning the hut in snow.The north wall, the only uncovered wall, glowedgrayly with the light sifting through the snow blocks."I don't know," I said."But you think you can discover what it is?""I don't know." "That's an arrogant thought, isn't it?" he said."Why else are we here? Discovery or creation - in the end it's the same thing.""Yes, why are we here? - the cardinal trivial question.We're here to suffer and die.We're herebecause we're here.""That's pure nihilism.""You're so arrogant," he said, and he shut his eyes and ground his teeth together, almost as it hewere asleep."You think there is a way out for yourself, don't you?""I don't know.""Well, there is no way out.Life is a trap, no matter at what level you live it.There is always acrescendoing series of traps.The Timekeeper was right: Life is hell.""We're creators of our hells."He jumped up off the snowbed and stood naked on the floor.Beneath his skin his muscles were longand flat, like leather straps wrapped around wood.His lean shadow cut the curving, white walls."Yes," he said slowly."Half my hell was created by me, and the other half you created for me."My lips and cheeks were burning in the warm air, and I mocked him, saying, "Heredity is destiny.""Damn you!""We're creators of our heavens," I said softly."We can create ourselves.""No, it's too late.""Never too late," I said."For me it's too late." He rubbed some seal fat on the red scar tissue of his finger stumps.He said,"Arrogance, everywhere such arrogance - it makes me ill.But soon there will be no more of thisarrogance." Here he shot me a look of resentment, of awe, of hate."In the whole Devaki tribe, there'snot one man who is tired or ashamed of being a man, who wants to be more than he is.And that's whyI'll never go back to the City."That night I had dreams of the future, of Soli's future and my own.I scryed until dawn, and I dranksome coffee and scryed halfway through the snowy day.I wanted to show him what I had seen, to tellhim that life is not a trap, at least no more of a trap than we make from the sharpened ends of our coldbones and the sinews of our twisted hearts.I wanted to tell him the simplest of things.Instead I stoodup and began pulling on my furs."It will stop snowing soon," I said."Before nightfall."Soli sat inside his furs as he fitted his spear with a new blade of flint.(The old point had snapped inthe wall of the crevasse.) He looked at me with the loathing he held for scryers and said nothing."The Timekeeper is close," I said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.""Then Justine's death, my part in the Pilot's war - it was all madness, wasn't it? A stupid mistake?""It was a tragedy," I said."Yes, it's ironic." His fingers were working the heavy brows above his eyes."After Justine wasabandoned, after I hit her, there was no going back, not for us, not for me.That was the worst momentof my life.So, this Alaloi body of mine - it could have been resculpted but it was kept to remind me.As a penance, you see.And now, if not for this thick body and your help, well, the water would havekilled me." Although each of us had slid towards the opposite edges of the furs, we were still very close.Ismelled his breath, which was rank with coffee and ketones, the stinking result of our all-meat diet, ofour bodies burning protein for glucose.I smelled other things about him, mainly anger, fear, andresentment."You shouldn't have helped me," he said, "but you couldn't help helping me, could you?It's your revenge.""No," I said."Yes, you love feeling holy about yourself, don't you?""What do you mean?" I asked, though I knew exactly what he meant."Even before you had the slightest reason.Do you remember that night in the bar? When Tomothcalled you a bastard? You couldn't help your temper, could you?""I had no self-restraint, then.""'Heredity is destiny,'" he quoted."I don't believe that," I said as I held a spitted sweetbread over the fire."What do you believe?""I think we can change ourselves, rewrite our programs.Ultimately, we're free.""No," he said."You're wrong, Life is a trap.There's no way out."He was quiet while he sat up munching the crusted organ meat.He was deep in thought.His lean,hairy stomach rose and fell, rose and fell, as he sucked in the relatively warm air of the hut.Heswallowed and said, "Let's talk about the Fravashi, this favored alien race of yours.The Timekeeperwould have banished all of them from the City, if he could.Their alien teachings, this notion ofultimate fate, of - what do you call it? - of ananke.You've listened to them more than a man should,haven't you?"I had never heard Soli wax so philosophical before, so I let him continue: "Free will? Have youthought about that term, the way the Fravashi use it? It's an oxymoron, as self-contradictory as a'cheerful pessimist' or a 'happy fate" If the universe is alive and conscious, as you believe, if it movesitself toward.if it has a purpose, then we're all slaves because it moves us towards that purpose as ifwe were pieces on a chessboard.And we don't know anything of the higher game, do we? Yes, and sowhere is the freedom? It's fine to talk of ananke, of this merging of our individual wills with thehigher - is that what you believe? - but for human beings, ananke means hate, desperate love, despair,death.""No," I said, "you don't understand."He spat a piece of gristle against the packed-snow floor and said, "Enlighten me.""We're ultimately free, not totally free.We're free within certain bounds.In the end, our individualwills are a part of the will of the universe.""And you believe that?""It's what the Fravashi teach.""And what is the will of the universe?" he asked as he dumped a handful of snow into the coffeepot.Outside, the storm was drowning the hut in snow.The north wall, the only uncovered wall, glowedgrayly with the light sifting through the snow blocks."I don't know," I said."But you think you can discover what it is?""I don't know." "That's an arrogant thought, isn't it?" he said."Why else are we here? Discovery or creation - in the end it's the same thing.""Yes, why are we here? - the cardinal trivial question.We're here to suffer and die.We're herebecause we're here.""That's pure nihilism.""You're so arrogant," he said, and he shut his eyes and ground his teeth together, almost as it hewere asleep."You think there is a way out for yourself, don't you?""I don't know.""Well, there is no way out.Life is a trap, no matter at what level you live it.There is always acrescendoing series of traps.The Timekeeper was right: Life is hell.""We're creators of our hells."He jumped up off the snowbed and stood naked on the floor.Beneath his skin his muscles were longand flat, like leather straps wrapped around wood.His lean shadow cut the curving, white walls."Yes," he said slowly."Half my hell was created by me, and the other half you created for me."My lips and cheeks were burning in the warm air, and I mocked him, saying, "Heredity is destiny.""Damn you!""We're creators of our heavens," I said softly."We can create ourselves.""No, it's too late.""Never too late," I said."For me it's too late." He rubbed some seal fat on the red scar tissue of his finger stumps.He said,"Arrogance, everywhere such arrogance - it makes me ill.But soon there will be no more of thisarrogance." Here he shot me a look of resentment, of awe, of hate."In the whole Devaki tribe, there'snot one man who is tired or ashamed of being a man, who wants to be more than he is.And that's whyI'll never go back to the City."That night I had dreams of the future, of Soli's future and my own.I scryed until dawn, and I dranksome coffee and scryed halfway through the snowy day.I wanted to show him what I had seen, to tellhim that life is not a trap, at least no more of a trap than we make from the sharpened ends of our coldbones and the sinews of our twisted hearts.I wanted to tell him the simplest of things.Instead I stoodup and began pulling on my furs."It will stop snowing soon," I said."Before nightfall."Soli sat inside his furs as he fitted his spear with a new blade of flint.(The old point had snapped inthe wall of the crevasse.) He looked at me with the loathing he held for scryers and said nothing."The Timekeeper is close," I said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]