Confrontation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 4) (16 page)

Gathering our things didn’t take too long; we don’t have much. We were able to fashion a stretcher out of the materials used for bedding. It’s not perfect, but it will do the trick to get David out of the natives’ city. The aliens watched us, but I was not able to pick up on any emotions from them.

With Luke missing a hand, he is not able to help me carry the stretcher. As usual, Sofie steps up to take on the extra burden. I’m sure it’s not the hardest physical labor either of us has ever done, but it is more difficult than simply walking.

While we passed through the city, a small crowd built behind us. When we approached what looked like the last building, I checked backwards and the throng numbered at least twenty. The leader, the one who had told us to leave, was front and center.

When we were about fifteen minutes outside of the city, the crowd started to thin. The first few natives peeled off and walked back toward the city. Once the group was down to about ten, they didn’t leave so much as just stop walking.

Only the leader walked with us as far as the signpost that Sofie and I had come across a few days ago. I could feel confusion and doubt coming from the creature. My moderate feeling of sadness was directed back at him, but I have no idea if it was received.

We are now well out of sight of the signpost. I can’t tell what the rest of my group is feeling, but I can guess.

Failure, sadness and self-doubt are the emotions in the front of my mind. We went to engage with the natives of this planet, hoping to befriend them. Instead, we were asked to leave their city, with no explanation or justification.

Is the issue with humans or is it with the humans that were there?

“Can we stop for a minute?” Sofie asks while slowing her walk.

There is no verbal acknowledgement from the group; we simply slow down and then shuffle to a stop. Sofie and I lower the stretcher together and let it go. I can already feel sores forming on my hands and my arms feel about a foot longer. Getting David back to our village is going to be arduous.

Absentmindedly I grab my water bottle and offer it forward to Sofie. She takes it and slowly unscrews the cap.

“Thanks,” she says before stopping and taking a long drink.

Luke and Sonjia take off their packs as well and get out their water bottles. We stand in silence for a few minutes.

“So that was interesting,” Luke finally says.

“I wish we had more time with them. If we could have gotten a few more words down it really would have been a great foundation for learning,” Sofie says, disappointed.

“Do you know how many iterations of my reactor there were before this one?” I ask, kind of rhetorically.

“Oh good, Seamus found a way to make this about his reactor,” Sonjia says and rolls her eyes.

“No, not about the reactor, about failing. I fail far more often than I succeed. This was simply our first failure when it comes to making a connection with the natives.” I try not to sound like a starry-eyed optimist.

“Well, with that logic, don’t you think that them coming to our village and destroying the central cabin was the first failure?” Sonjia asks.

“We could. I think of that action as discovery, not effort. We didn’t really know natives were an issue before that visit,” I respond.

“You can call it a failure, but walking out of there alive is a success to me. Let’s get back to camp. We are going to have to rehash all of this with them over and over again,” Luke says. He seems to be trying to position himself for something.

Luke and Sonjia put away their water and stand expectantly by the stretcher handles. I wait for Sofie to get in position by her handle, but she doesn’t move.

“It was holding hands that broke the ice, specifically you taking my hand,” Sofie says, looking at me. “It wasn’t science or technology or even intellect—it was emotion. It was emotion from
you.
” Sofie smiles warmly.

“I think the natives are sensitive, caring creatures. Can you imagine if humans could communicate with just facial expressions? There are so many details of intent, sentiment and nuance not to convey, but perceive. To have a conversation, you would have to seriously pay attention to the other person,” I say. I’m uncovering things I didn’t know I was thinking.

“Seriously. There’s no room for multi-tasking, that’s for sure,” Sofie agrees. “If you’re having a conversation, that is all you can be doing.” She knows how to simplify complex ideas.

“So, get this. The best way to live in peace with the natives is simply to live in peace. In general, I think they might be willing to leave us to ourselves, but if we start fighting and arguing, they may adopt a different approach,” I say, and nod to myself.

“Seamus Robinson, philosopher physicist,” Sofie teases sweetly.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Maybe just ‘sensitive human,’” I say and wink at her.

“And I wouldn’t go that far.” Sofie leans in a gives me a gentle kiss.

“I love you,” I say.

“That’s the first time you’ve said it first, and for no reason.” Her eyes glow with warmth and happiness

“Well, it won’t be the last time.” I turn her toward her handle and give her a gentle push in the back.

“So Luke, why do you think they brought you back to their city when they found you two?” Sofie asks as she adjusts her pack and readies to lift the stretcher.

“Dunno. Maybe pity?” Luke says. He is not joining our reflective conversation.

“I think it may have been compassion or even courage.” Sonjia nods confidently, giving the impression that she has at least considered the rationale for keeping them alive.

“From them or you?” I ask not sure who would be the courageous ones in this scenario.

“Us. Luke lost a hand and I stayed right with him, not ready to give up. I was worried about his pain and his health, but trying to be brave in believing that we would somehow be okay.” Sonjia has a distant look in her eyes as she remembers the emotions from the last few days.

Without another word, we all bend over and lift a handle. I’m not sure if David moved on his own or if it was the shifting of the stretcher that caused it, but for some reason, I suddenly believe he is going to make it. There may be permanent long-term damage, but I don’t feel like his death is imminent.

While we walk, solutions to the problems in the back of my mind come flooding in. I was right, the human race no longer needs
me
; it needs all of us. Of equal importance to our diversity of DNA is our diversity of personality.

If we are going to not just survive, but thrive, there have to be different approaches to problems. We need to have Liam, full of energy and conversation. We need to have David, afraid of an invasion and planning defense and attack strategies. We need my mother, organizing work shifts and rest shifts. And we need Sofie, being sweet and thoughtful.

Our survival cannot depend on epic acts of individual heroism; it needs simple, consistent acts of individuality. We don’t need to worry about brown skin, blue eyes or black hair being right for this climate. If the environment requires physical changes to our bodies, nature will take care of it.

This group survived
because
of our differences, not in spite of them.

I don’t know how many cycles it took us to get back to the village. In the first few hours of walking I tried to keep track, but realized there was no value in measuring the time. It would take us as long as it was going to take us; being able to communicate how long it took was irrelevant.

David definitely moved several times. Sonjia did an amazing job of keeping fluids going into him. She was caring for herself, David, and, at times, Luke.

Luke is starting to remind me of a grown-up version of Liam. He’s easily distracted, tends to charge off before he understands where he’s going, and almost always answers questions with “dunno.” The biggest difference is that he doesn’t speak nearly as often as Liam, though no one physically could.

The community has decided to refer to the creatures that live on this planet as “natives.” It’s just easier to say than “Locutions.” Our group meals are consumed with conversations about our brief time in the natives’ city.

Cassandra is mad at me for trickling out information. For some reason she thinks that I am keeping key details to myself so that I can be more important. I think she’s just projecting her approach onto me. It can be tricky to remember that humanity needs even her, but then I think of her ability to reproduce and keep my brother happy, and it is clear.

There are truly no more divisions between McMurdo and Ames. We are all one group now. While we were gone, it seems that my mom and Henry came to a similar conclusion about how we need all of us to thrive.

We are finally at a weekend session and it feels like forever since I’ve had a day off. Sofie and I slept in and made our way to the central cabin late. I wasn’t surprised to see people there, but the atmosphere surprised me; the camaraderie was almost palpable.

Everyone other than Henry and David is sitting around the table, engaged in conversation. Most people are smiling, though a few look thoughtful. Plates of chicken are on the table and it looks like there was meat from more than one bird. The typical vegetables are all there, but I also notice some fruits that look like what the aliens had left us on the cool blue plate.

Somehow, without a vote or a plan, we had all come together. Maybe it took this long for everyone to go through the grieving process over losing Earth. Now that we’ve dealt with our loss, we can return to the rational humans that we all were before the apocalypse.

As I look at the faces around the table, I realize how balanced our population is in both knowledge and personality. Each individual is remarkable in their own right, the best at something, but together we are even better.

Then my brother stands up to prove me wrong.

“I was thinking we should build a man cave. But not a man cave, ’cause that’s not inclusive. You know, something like a hangout place where we can watch movies and kind of veg out occasionally,” Liam says. He has probably been thinking about this since he dove down to the space plane.

“We seem to have hit an inflection point, but I’m not sure a dedicated 'vegging out' place sets the right tone,” Mom says, trying to shoot him down nicely.

Horst is the first one to speak up in Liam’s defense. “Well, you know, a performance hall or some community space for entertainment might not be the worst idea. There will definitely be times when we want to get our minds off of things. Most great civilizations have had some form of community entertainment,” he says.

“The tone should be continued success, and we can set that by welcoming the arts,” Jane says. She has to put an arrogant, know-it-all spin on everything.

Around the table, people turn back to their previous groupings and murmur quietly to one another. The point of relaxing and setting a tone are not lost on anyone, but there doesn’t seem to be much agreement on what type of space would best accomplish that.

“Maybe we should start with the tone, and the space will define itself?” I say, without rising from my seat.

“I think my mother just defined the tone,” Cassandra says with an edge, before pausing to draw a deep breath. “But maybe you mean that we should do the things we envision occurring in the new space before we build it?”

“Nicely put, thank you,” I say, and smile at my sister-in-law. “We have scripts from many plays loaded on our tablets. We can use the piano and guitar apps on a tablet to have concerts and stuff like that. Grace and everyone else did an amazing job of preparing for the continuation of culture; the next step is probably taking advantage of those resources.”

“Does anyone even know how to play guitar?” my dad asks.

“It’ll take weeks to rehearse a play or even learn a song. Might be tough to carry momentum. Building might keep some of us busy while the others prepare,” Marybeth chimes in.

There are nods of understanding, but not agreement.

“Thrive,” I finally blurt out.

“Lookout everyone, Seamus’ brain just farted. He’s about to say something
important,
” Liam jokes.

“Jane was right, our tone should be continued success. We do best as a group when everyone chips in and contributes their unique approach to things. When everyone was doing their own thing, we were surviving, but not thriving,” I say, still not sure of where my brain is leading me.

“And look out again everyone, it probably won’t be clear how Seamus’ brain is relating to anything we’ve been talking about,” Sofie says, giving me a playful jab.

Slowly I rise from my seat.

“Each weekend session, we can have a
thrive talk.”
My idea comes together as I speak. “We can draw a name out of a hat to see who goes first, but they need to start the talk with ‘We are thriving because…’ and then go on to explain why we are doing so well here on this alien planet. Each speaker can decide how they want the audience arranged.”

“I love it,” David says from the door of the central cabin. Henry, who has a broad smile across his face, is supporting him.

Our survival is no more guaranteed than it had been on Earth, but we have a path forward. We can focus on the positive aspects of humanity and embrace the individual strengths that each of us contributes to our species. There will always be misunderstanding and disagreement, but there does not have to be confrontation.

“I would be happy to go first. My topic will be ‘We are thriving because we are all different.’” I look around at the familiar group of individuals and smile at how strong we are together.