C C Brower [Brower - The Hooman Probe

The Hooman Probe

By C. C. Brower

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I

T HE WOLVES HAD SELECTED an old hooman foundation for the probe site.

It was circular, and legend had that the old building was mostly for storage and sheltering livestock. Hooman's called it a "barn". Those that hunted in and around it said it was a slave building, trapping the beings within. Supposedly, this was by mutual consent, as the beings who sheltered in that barn had few defences without hoomans around.

Those days were before the hoomans leaving in their sky-ships. Sentience wasn't widely available until after they were gone. After the plague took most of the remaining hoomans.

Today, that foundation would be for the ceremony. It would mark where the probe would take place, and where the sentient wolves and their cubs could watch in relative safety.

Or so they thought.

No hooman had survived the probe before. But this one was different. No hooman had been to the valley since the days of the hooman plague.

This was completely new.

And yet, more vital than ever. The ferals knew where the valley was. And the hooman settlements had been growing in size. Not just locally, but in every area where hoomans still survived. This news was brought by the migrating birds and insects.

Unless a way was found to communicate with hoomans and ferals, it would mean a new world war that would destroy both sides. A war that would never end until one or the other side was exterminated.

Tig-she led Soo-she up to the circle and then stopped. The wolf looked at her and sent her a faith-filled prayer for the best outcome.

Soo-she nodded in reply, then entered the circle.

A hawk flew in lazy circles overhead, riding the thermals. With a cry, she dove to earth. Soo-she ducked, but the wolves didn't flinch.

On landing with a graceful back-sweeping, the hawk alighted without a sound.

Eying the assembled wolves, the hawk bowed its head.

A shimmering covered that form, which showed a wolf when it cleared. Grey, almost white fur - it was Teacher.

Some cubs sent to each other about how it was quite an appearance, and found their mothers "tut-tutting" their lack of mental discipline. Soo-she also understood their thoughts and smiled, remembering the "seen and not heard" saying she had been told when she was young.

The grey wolf just smiled at Soo-she, sending "Welcome everyone. I'll skip some of the formal prayers and notices so we can get started. Our hunters are out protecting us and we need to help them. We need whatever data we can get as soon as we can. I do want to thank each of you for all you've done and all that will be asked of you. Your presence is noted and welcome, as well as our Chief, our elders, and our next generation."

Teacher nodded at the Chief and then proceeded to a spot opposite Soo-she in the center of the circular foundations.

"Soo-she are you ready to begin?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Then clear your mind and relax."

The Teacher sat on her haunches and bowed her own head. Soo-she bowed hers as well.

To Soo-she, it was as if the universe had dropped away. A brilliant white replaced everything except her and Teacher.

Then she remembered her life from the beginning. She hadn't remembered being born before, seeing the world through her own Mother's eyes and those of her Father, Aunts, Uncles, and other family. She now remembered that there was a dream-catcher placed above her cradle to help her sleep. That same amulet she carried with her in her pouch that was sitting in the Teacher's den.

Then she was learning to walk, to talk the hooman speech. And to rely on talking rather than sensing. Because those around her wouldn't sense. Only the other babies did this.

It was true, then, that all knowledge was available to the youngest - until they learned to speak.

A flood of images came, then: the floor plan of the moon-colony they were in. How the air and water were recirculated and purified. How the food was grown in containers under artificial light. How the elites lived in the original city-ship which then provided heat and protection for the dome of the moon-colony. The mining that had to occur to keep the fusion generator running, but also the other industries that ran in the colony near the fusion exhaust - refraction of metals and collection of slag that was further refined for building materials. How the rare earths were extracted and collected for fine electronic uses. The collection of waste that couldn't be economically recycled or re-purposed. How these were bundled up and launched on a trajectory back to Earth so that the atmosphere re-entry would turn them back to dust. How the theories that moon dust would cause more rain and help purify the polluted skies.

As Soo-she remembered her youth, all the ways of hoomans came out. The moon colony were the Slaggers, the lowest caste. Then came the organizers, the business people who provided jobs. Then the government workers and officials. At the top were the royal elite families, who inherited their positions from their elders.

Visions of fine dresses and suits, fashions that came and went. All shown on the TV screens the Slaggers were assembled to watch. Regular announcements were given with awards for high production numbers. Competitions were touted between the various colonies to see which ones could out-produce the others. Trophies were presented to head of business-houses, which would be put on display so the Slaggers could see them going down into and returning from the mines. The Founder's birthday was usually a big event, even though the original founders for each of the city-ships were long dead. In those cases, the shows were extravagant. Pictures of vast audiences and camera's representing each of the colonies were there to record it. Elites had the front row seats, with government behind them, and business owners and staff taking up the rear. Slaggers weren't present, as there wasn't enough room in any single presentation hall. (Or so they were told.) It was hard to tell what was virtual and what was real.

The Slaggers wore jumpsuits the entire time. That was their fashion. "Make do, do over, or do without" was their watchword. Jumpsuits were cleaned until they wore out. Then they'd be cut down to make children's jumpsuits. When those wore out, their buttons, patches, zippers, and velcro were all removed and the remainder would be used as padding, rags, or to stuff leaks. Nothing was thrown away, everything was re-used.

You'd see the fashions start with the elites, then move to the government bureaucrats who would wear them for awhile, then down to the business class, but never down to the Slaggers except as patches for their identification and to celebrate their production achievements.

Soo-she remembered playing with a collection of old patches her grandmother had saved. Their bright colors faded and glitter nearly worn off. Her mother and others kept taking them out of her mouth, thinking how she could poison herself if she swallowed any of that glitter.