Chapter 9
By Sea

Bernard closed his grip around the drive handle of a spherical craft designed to roll at high velocity through the streets. His masked companion had taken his leave again without warning, but this was irrelevant; Bernard had gained a new purpose now that he knew the man’s purported identity. The scientist had come to the realization that it was not in fact a purely genetic disorder that was causing the affective abilities to disappear, but something physical that was external to the gene pool as a whole. This was the reason that his extensive study had proven ineffective; the phenomenon truly could not be explained through biological means. What in fact was responsible was still hidden, but he knew that he would not find it by remaining in one place, so he had resolved to set out on a search of a new kind.

He was not entirely sure where to go, but a few promising leads had turned up. Believing that the keeper of the lighthouse had been somehow involved, however unwittingly, Bernard had considered traveling to the ruins of Hokkaido in order to see if indeed he could discover anything in the records there. Not being himself an archaeologist, it might have made more sense to simply contact someone there on the global network and ask them to search. Still, he was obliged to maintain some degree of secrecy; the general public was, through some miracle, not yet aware that children were regularly born without affective capability, and if this were not only revealed, but also that the massive, people-oriented government had been completely unable to determine the real reason why, there was a strong possibility that all the wonderful benefits that had been wrought through the Mechanists would be eliminated by the potential hysteria that might result. It felt somewhat questionable to keep this secret, but it was the agreement that he, Alice, and a number of others had made; there was no idea of them trying to restrict the knowledge maliciously, but simply out of concern since they had realized the coming problem so early on. Only now were the first babies born after the change showing signs of being incapable of interacting with their machine counterparts. All those working on the project had perhaps until the children became toddlers before the game was up, since when they were able to speak and reason, there would be no way to hide any discrepancy between their nature and the way of the adults.

In any case, it was not hard to travel to Hokkaido, despite Bernard’s home being located in what used to be the city of Seattle, Washington of the former United States. It was a trivial matter to traverse the oceans now, particularly since the mechanical detritus had been cleaned up. One merely entered the spherical, transforming craft, elegantly designed mechanical vehicles that predated the Mechanists and had no need for affective control. The wall turned permeable for entry, and thereafter it formed a tight seal that was equally capable of travel on land or sea, not to mention space. The drive handle took the form of a single ball suspended in the center of the vehicle; the driver had merely to grasp it and push in the direction they wished to move. Algorithms inherent in the device’s programming ensured that it could not crash into other objects, and even if it did, the material it was made from was so strong that the opposing object would be more likely to shatter first. The drive mechanism of the original device had been considerably slower and consumed more energy, but the modern version operated on the astonishing miniaturized cold fusion reactor that had been developed in conjunction with the machines. This added speed and power had made even interplanetary travel possible through the use of the spheres, progressing through the void with the ease and grace of dancers.

The journey across the planet’s oceans would have been shocking to anyone coming from the world of the past. There was no comparison to the sea of earlier years, due to the period of virtual non-interference on humanity’s part in the underwater realm after their creations had run amok. In addition, the water level had risen considerably from its position of 100 years ago, now encompassing much more of the landmass than had ever been covered with water in the past; this had resulted from the global warming which naysayers had tried to deny even as they were wading knee-deep in the sea. Although its effects had been tempered by the arrival of more advanced power sources and the near-total elimination of pollutants, the climate of the planet had been definitively altered, and were it not for humanity’s somewhat greater control over its surroundings, the resulting weather might not have been tenable to sustain life comfortably within the range of tolerance.

Bernard’s translucent sphere rolled over the water, seemingly indifferent to the buffeting of waves and allowing the liquid to slick off with considerable rapidity as the machine carved a wake into the ocean’s surface. It was possible to travel underwater as well, converting the shape into a more hydrodynamic form, but at times he enjoyed the experience of venturing out with the sun and sky overhead like the sailors of old, even if he needed no wind to propel him across the great sea. There was no particular advantage to submarine travel until he had sufficiently accelearated in any case, as the undersea travel was simply more likely to encounter obstacles and be subjected to the powerful jet stream current which was the source of the long-standing weather patterns over the water. Although these patterns had been in place for some years by this time, it was in actuality a vastly different meteorological picture than the original one which had prevailed on Earth for so long; global warming again had influenced the weather patterns to the degree that they were not even remotely akin to those that had been treated as matters of course by the denizens of the past.

Removing his hand from the drive handle, Bernard relaxed and watched the receding shoreline of Seattle as he went. There were no skyscrapers any longer, for there was no particular socioeconomic reason for them to exist; the ant-like conglomerations of people in their offices were a phenomenon relegated to the distant past by now, and communities had resumed their normal modus operandi of small, local interaction that proved healthier for all involved. Cities no longer qualitatively differed from one another in the traditional manner, since all of the individual homes and workspaces took on the appearance that their residents desired for them, creating an organic and highly variable landscape. Sunlight beat down on the shiny, wax-like material of the “pier” that extended over the water for a short distance in order to provide a convenient space to contain the vessels that lay in preparation for the use of any who wished to travel over the water. Use of the spheres was not exclusive to any one individual, as with many things in society by now; any sphere would transform in size and shape to the desires of the one who piloted it, and there were so many that there was no reason to object to anyone else using one’s “own” device. It had taken a long time to get used to the idea of not having strict property, but everyone eventually grew accustomed to the fact of the matter when the true ubiquity of anything that could be desired became pressed into the common mentality. So many changes had been wrought that it was impossible for any of the old ways to apply, except insofar as they related to the bases of morality. This was one area upon which the future had not been able to substantially improve; it was purely by dint of the considerable interconnectedness which prevailed in recent years that other cultures had begun to move towards a majority notion of conscience, which stemmed partly from the American tradition of democracy and liberty but drew much more on Buddhism, one of the few ideologies that had never been associated with bloodshed.

It seemed to Bernard then that a thin fragment of illumination on the western horizon had flickered brighter for a moment. He felt suddenly like one of the Magi, venturing on a journey to lands unknown after having seen the merest hint of a guiding light. What did he expect to find in Hokkaido that would make the trip worthwhile? There had been little left there for decades, as all the residents had preferred to move to larger islands or simply live on apparently fragile structures that rested atop the water, whose systems of roots and branches which sustained them remained invisibly beneath the green glass surface. If indeed the masked man had told the truth, diving underwater would reveal the wrecked remains of a lighthouse, where perhaps he would find some clue as to the past of his interlocutor; even though he could not understand what this would prove, he had a feeling that would not be shaken, and his other leads were infinitely less promising in any case.

He had thought of inviting Alice to accompany him on this excursion, but she was occupied with other business of her own and could not devote time to a physical voyage. However, if he desired, he might bring up her image on the interior of the vessel and communicate via video conference. Should he encounter anything he could not understand, she would be his first resource.

The sphere had achieved its maximum velocity, and it was no longer practical to remain above the surface given the greater degree of air resistance. Bernard gave the command for the vessel to slip beneath the waves as it tumbled rapidly through the water, deforming as it went into a streamlined design akin to the now-defunct torpedoes of old. Underneath, the view was far more obscured, but this was easily enough resolved. The contact lenses which he wore were switched into receiving the ultrasonic images rendered by the external sensors on the machine, and he was once again given a clear view. This time, however, the picture was given in monochrome; coloration from infrared could be added, but he was not particularly concerned with this, as the grayscale view had a certain elegance about it as well.

Looking about, he noted that there were very few creatures about in the nearby waters. The slight disturbance which the craft produced was potentially the cause of this, but he felt as though the sea creatures were giving him space to pass, as if they either respected or feared him and did not wish to come near. He was moving so fast by this time that they would not be able to react should he catch them unawares, so he speculated that the various species had communicated with one another via whatever means they had at their disposal; perhaps a low frequency cry that would propagate well through the seas. Regardless of the reason, the absence of fauna made the journey somewhat disappointing, but he did enjoy the show of the luminescent seaweed, a comparatively recent evolution in the underwater ecosystem. In response to the pollution of the waters that had taken place in the 20th century, nature had tried to provide its own solution by creating new plants that could feed on the unstable toxins of human creation and break them down into a biologically-friendly form, extracting what they could and encapsulating the rest so that it might be removed from the biosphere rather than increasing in concentration as it had in the past. This had only been partly successful, but people took up on the cue and started genetically engineering their own equivalent filters for all those pollutants that nature herself had not yet dealt with. But this plan was fraught with difficulty, and the resultant creations worked well but proliferated too widely and were inedible to the life already there, strangling other plants’ sunlight and resources in their haste to collect what the humans had created. It was then that the second wave of invasion had come from land to try and heavy-handedly correct the mistakes of the past, in the form of the autonomous machines which had proven so destructive. While no true sea life was visible in the waters, the ocean floor was littered with the irreducible remnants of these artificial creatures which the tertiary group had been unable to make use of. The alarming husks of mechanical eyes and manipulators lay discarded in the bottoms of trenches, their pitiful state serving as a reminder of the danger inherent in tampering with nature.

By this time, Bernard had traveled long enough that the sun ought to have only just have set on the coast of the Pacific Northwest, but his speed had increased to nearly 2000 kilometers per hour, fast enough that the hour was effectively getting later as he went, until he saw the sunrise from the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Therefore, it seemed to have been day for some time once he was close to arriving, a transition he was still never quite able to pin down, although younger people seemed to have no problem with such matters. The understanding of time differences had taken on an even greater significance once truly universal communication had been established, to the point where only comparative relics like himself could not easily perform the requisite calculations for any major city without a second thought. In fact, the problem was not so pronounced as before, since artificial light with the full intensity of sunlight could be produced at a moment’s notice and create the convincing illusion of daytime, so that collaboration could be carried out as long as the participants were willing to remain awake, but this behavior was widely discouraged, as it was considered antisocial to interact exclusively via the network.

Finally, the edge of the island came into view far ahead, rushing towards him like an antagonistic bull. Clasping the drive handle, he commanded the craft to decelerate, which it did as fast as possible without causing excessive inertial discomfort. All the advances that science had made still could not defeat this simple fact of nature, and indeed it seemed that such a thing would truly be limited to the realm of science fiction. Slowing to a stop some distance before the end, he drove the now-reformed sphere up toward the surface, so that he might look about and see what lay on land.

The island had suffered considerably from the rising sea level, he noted as he rose. Many ruined houses lay on the side of the landmass which must have at one point been open to the air. The region was not exceedingly mountainous, but he knew that he was seeking a place with a cliff, and intended to ask whatever remaining residents he could find in any case. Although the landscape had changed, surely some must remain who would know the whereabouts of his purported lighthouse.

Surfacing the craft, he tapped a button and the sphere unfurled like a curious clamshell that was capable of retracting into itself. The ground before him was covered in exceptionally tall and green grass. which seemed to reflect the sunlight with a certain aggressive vivacity that was surprising for one unaccustomed to such an unregulated form of nature. Stepping out onto land, Bernard surveyed his surroundings with diffidence; no one, it seemed, was around to be questioned. He prepared to return to the craft and seek out another part of the island when a voice seemed to come out of the ground from behind him.

“Seeking the lighthouse, perhaps?” asked a voice.

“Who’s there?” Bernard demanded.

“Your pardon, please. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to distress you.” A man emerged from a trapdoor that he had installed over what seemed to be a residence buried within the island itself. One could catch a glimpse of the interior, which held a long row of shelves extending out of sight into the compound, and several elaborate mechanical devices of indeterminate function. Considering the wildness of the surrounding land, it was only natural that the remaining residents would have to be somewhat eccentric. Bernard watched him carefully before presuming to speak again.

“Greetings. What is your name?”

“Otomo. And you are Bernard, I expect.”

“How did you know that?” Bernard asked guardedly.

“They told me, of course.”

“Who?”

The man stretched, causing the tattered red robe he wore to ruffle in the breeze before he smoothed it out again. “A few of them, but it was all confirmed by the eldest member of the pod. I wish I could tell you her name, but their names aren’t like ours, anyhow. No, not a bit.”

“A... pod? You mean the whales?”

“Who else? We get no news by any other way. Anyway, your coming stirred them into a real frenzy. They were concerned that you should make it here safely, so they moved aside anything that might have harmed you.”

“What, why? And how did they know?”

“Full of questions, now! Well, they do not tell their ways of finding out; they simply know. I haven’t listened to them all these years only to pester them with questions about the source of their information when they are always right.” The man’s cunning eyes acquired an amused cast, as though it were absurd that someone should question him on such matters.

“You claim that you talk to the whales?”

“The most interesting conversationalists I have found. I personally can’t speak to them, but I’ve learned to understand their conversation. Just a knack to it, is all, and then it’s trivial. My wife does it better, but of course she’s a great deal more clever than me. On account of her memory, for the most part. Oh, it’s a sight to see when she starts to recall things, indeed.”

“Your wife?” Bernard asked. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone... wandering. I don’t know where, to tell the truth, but it doesn’t worry me. In any case, you’ll be wanting to know where the lighthouse is.”

“Not just yet. I have a few more questions to ask you in particular first. How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, a good 50 or 60 years, I would wager. It used to be that I lived on Honshu, but I moved to Hokkaido for the fishing and never went back.”

Bernard consulted his contact lenses. Unsurprisingly, this man didn’t possess any identification either, but the dates would concur with the assessment that he had sidestepped the entirety of the Mechanist revolution by staying on this isolated island with only his wife to accompany him, and whoever else was peculiar enough to live nearby.

“Do you know anyone else who lives on this island?”

“Oh, a fair number, but they’re not nearly as inclined to speak to strangers. The whales told me to anticipate your coming, so I came out to give you a greeting before you could meet anyone less friendly.”

“And I suppose that less friendly means simply that they wouldn’t speak with me.”

“Well... some might have attacked you. They’re quite old-fashioned in that way, suspicious of outsiders. But you needn’t worry, with that nice little boat you’ve got there, you’ll be fine. And my, isn’t it impressive to have arrived so quickly?”

“You could say that. Tell me, what are those strange machines you have in your house there?”

“Oh, forgive me again! I meant to invite you in once I saw you, but all your questions put it out of my head. Please, come down with me and I’ll show you.”

The pair descended the short ladder leading down into the house, and Bernard realized that it was quite a bit more extensive than he had originally realized. The shelves which he had seen earlier carried rows of books, some seeming very old indeed. Other shelves held cracked pottery bowls, some of which were more intact and still held pairs of lacquered chopsticks that the man must use to eat with; still others held a store of rice and other foodstuffs. The space comprised a relatively extensive cavern in the rock considering its manmade origins, but most of it was dominated by large metallic contraptions which eluded Bernard’s comprehension altogether.

“These are very old now, but my wife and I like to collect them. There’s several different machines. This one is called a printing press. Long before any of the Mechanists came around starting trouble, they had these, making books available to anyone.”

“I see. But what did they actually do?”

“You mean you don’t know?” he laughed. “It’s simple. You put in a piece of paper, here...”

The man went on to demonstrate the operation of the printing press. Bernard was astonished by how simple the device was: no electricity, no fusion drive, no affective technology, and yet it was still potent, capable of producing any writing one could imagine. This particular model was so old that it had only kanji lettering, rather than the Latin alphabet or the International Phonetic Alphabet that had been adopted in recent years. This latter writing system was perhaps biased toward users of that particularly Eurocentric alphabet, but it produced a completely unambiguous phonetic description, eliminating any problems of spelling that had arisen before, and was capable of representing essentially any sound in human language. It was nevertheless compelling to see how compact the kanji representation was. He picked up the sheet that the man had freshly printed.

“That page holds a haiku by the poet Basho. It comes from his ’Oku no Hosomichi’, or The Narrow Road to the Deep North. Here, let me translate it for you.

he pronounced quietly.

How intriguing were these ancient words!

“Do you have any more of these?” Bernard asked.

“Why yes, but oughtn’t you to be getting on to the lighthouse?”

“I think this may be important. Please, read some more.”

Otomo smiled. “With pleasure.” E-mail: vokuro@adelphia.net