Art Pact 97
The next day, at first light, the human was back. Loso, the least wary of the group, walked to where the thickset creature was sitting and nodded to it, gesturing it to stand up. Again, the thing's size was unnerving - a head taller than Loso, its two upper limbs lumpy and misshapen with muscles.
"We don't want it walking around like that," the abbots had said in the half-light of the previous evening's meeting. "Hopefully it won't return, but we can't have it carrying things."
"It's strong," Loso and Conyiad had argued. "We couldn't have carried that many blocks so fast. If it comes back, why not use it?"
"It's a disturbance," the abbots insisted.
That had been the end of the argument. Nothing could break the peace of the construction site, that was the rule and they would stick to it as much as possible. Sectarian nonsense, Loso thought, but there was no-one he thought sufficiently of his mind to sponsor the stating out loud of such an opinion.
Still, there the human was, and since Loso required no sponsor for action, he sat down next to the interloper and made hands to it, to which the human responded with their common mimicry of the gesture, the delicate bony fingers at the ends of its upper limbs clasped around each other as if carrying something precious.
"My name might be Elizabeth," it said in a low-pitched voice. It was apparently all the human knew how to say in the tongue, because it stopped there and nodded its huge head, as if waiting for a reply. Loso indicated with a wave that he had understood, but since he could not with any certainty reply, he decided that it would be best to get on with things.
His plan had formed in the night, while he rested in the rope shelter at the north end of the valley. Dust from the volcano settled gently on his upper surfaces, and he had thought about getting up and fixing the plates - but it was too dark to work, and the dangerous likelihood of being carried off by a bird made the prospect doubly unpleasant. They had put up the shelters in a hurry on their first day, and he had assumed that someone had been assigned to rebuild them in a more sturdy fashion, but every time they returned to rest he found the shelters in their same ragged state, plates not properly supported so that they sagged and bowed inward rather than remaining flat to the ground and only twisting outwards to dump a load of ash when they were overburdened. It was sufficient to prevent them from being buried, but every morning since they had arrived the work crew had emerged from their rest like ghosts of themselves, covered in the thick static-charged dust that clung to every part of their bodies. The amount of time spent washing each morning, Loso thought, might easily be recovered in a couple of days if only two people were assigned to rebuild the shelters.
That, he thought, could be the job of the human if it returned. It would only take care of the matter for a day, of course, but it would certainly not be a disturbance. If the creature were occupied at the north end of the camp, far away from the carving and foundation zones, the abbots could hardly argue that it was upsetting the other workers or the sanctity of the labour. If they were determined to be racist (again, a thought that there was no possibility of saying out loud, since none of the others would sponsor a blatant attack on their leadership), he would have to make some concessions, but he saw no harm in allowing the human to work. Not, he thought, that any of them would be able to stop it if it decided otherwise.
He walked away a few steps, then turned back to it to see if it was following. It seemed to get the idea, and began to stomp after him, the ground shaking under his down feet with every step it took. It must have weighed three times as much as him, he thought, and again the inadvisability of angering the creature overtook him, and he ticked nervously with his up arms, a jumpy twitch that was immediately answered with a repetitive booming noise from behind him that he recognised at the laugh-sound.
"You might not have to be afraid of me!" The human said, much to his surprise - then something in its own language, a gibberish mish-mash of the sibilants that humans could make with their teeth. "I might be friendly," it said, again switching to the tongue. Its half-hearted reassurances did nothing to relax him, but he was unwilling to see his plan fail in front of the abbots (even if he had not been able to tell them about it), so he forced himself to continue walking, holding his up arms rigidly at his side in an attempt to keep them under control.
As they reached the shelter he could see for the first time how shoddily they had been constructed. When he'd woken he'd been too covered in dust to see properly, and after the call to prayer that ended the day's work it was too dark. Now, under the light of the rising sun, he could see that the wrong knots had been used, that the plates had been threaded onto different supporting ropes in different positions, that the stakes that held the ropes forming the lower end of the shelter had been driven in at unsuitable angles. It was purely the will of the spirits that the whole thing hadn't come tumbling down on them in the middle of the night.
He waited until the human was closer, then began to undo one of the knots with his front up arms. He gestured to the shelter, then down to the ground, then back up again.
"You might want me to rebuild it might be my question?" it said. Apparently it was quick on the uptake. He moved his body in what he hoped was a passable imitation of a human head nod, then pointed to another of the bad knots. To his immense satisfaction the human immediately began to fiddle with it with its fingers.
Good, he thought to himself, this will show the abbots.
"We don't want it walking around like that," the abbots had said in the half-light of the previous evening's meeting. "Hopefully it won't return, but we can't have it carrying things."
"It's strong," Loso and Conyiad had argued. "We couldn't have carried that many blocks so fast. If it comes back, why not use it?"
"It's a disturbance," the abbots insisted.
That had been the end of the argument. Nothing could break the peace of the construction site, that was the rule and they would stick to it as much as possible. Sectarian nonsense, Loso thought, but there was no-one he thought sufficiently of his mind to sponsor the stating out loud of such an opinion.
Still, there the human was, and since Loso required no sponsor for action, he sat down next to the interloper and made hands to it, to which the human responded with their common mimicry of the gesture, the delicate bony fingers at the ends of its upper limbs clasped around each other as if carrying something precious.
"My name might be Elizabeth," it said in a low-pitched voice. It was apparently all the human knew how to say in the tongue, because it stopped there and nodded its huge head, as if waiting for a reply. Loso indicated with a wave that he had understood, but since he could not with any certainty reply, he decided that it would be best to get on with things.
His plan had formed in the night, while he rested in the rope shelter at the north end of the valley. Dust from the volcano settled gently on his upper surfaces, and he had thought about getting up and fixing the plates - but it was too dark to work, and the dangerous likelihood of being carried off by a bird made the prospect doubly unpleasant. They had put up the shelters in a hurry on their first day, and he had assumed that someone had been assigned to rebuild them in a more sturdy fashion, but every time they returned to rest he found the shelters in their same ragged state, plates not properly supported so that they sagged and bowed inward rather than remaining flat to the ground and only twisting outwards to dump a load of ash when they were overburdened. It was sufficient to prevent them from being buried, but every morning since they had arrived the work crew had emerged from their rest like ghosts of themselves, covered in the thick static-charged dust that clung to every part of their bodies. The amount of time spent washing each morning, Loso thought, might easily be recovered in a couple of days if only two people were assigned to rebuild the shelters.
That, he thought, could be the job of the human if it returned. It would only take care of the matter for a day, of course, but it would certainly not be a disturbance. If the creature were occupied at the north end of the camp, far away from the carving and foundation zones, the abbots could hardly argue that it was upsetting the other workers or the sanctity of the labour. If they were determined to be racist (again, a thought that there was no possibility of saying out loud, since none of the others would sponsor a blatant attack on their leadership), he would have to make some concessions, but he saw no harm in allowing the human to work. Not, he thought, that any of them would be able to stop it if it decided otherwise.
He walked away a few steps, then turned back to it to see if it was following. It seemed to get the idea, and began to stomp after him, the ground shaking under his down feet with every step it took. It must have weighed three times as much as him, he thought, and again the inadvisability of angering the creature overtook him, and he ticked nervously with his up arms, a jumpy twitch that was immediately answered with a repetitive booming noise from behind him that he recognised at the laugh-sound.
"You might not have to be afraid of me!" The human said, much to his surprise - then something in its own language, a gibberish mish-mash of the sibilants that humans could make with their teeth. "I might be friendly," it said, again switching to the tongue. Its half-hearted reassurances did nothing to relax him, but he was unwilling to see his plan fail in front of the abbots (even if he had not been able to tell them about it), so he forced himself to continue walking, holding his up arms rigidly at his side in an attempt to keep them under control.
As they reached the shelter he could see for the first time how shoddily they had been constructed. When he'd woken he'd been too covered in dust to see properly, and after the call to prayer that ended the day's work it was too dark. Now, under the light of the rising sun, he could see that the wrong knots had been used, that the plates had been threaded onto different supporting ropes in different positions, that the stakes that held the ropes forming the lower end of the shelter had been driven in at unsuitable angles. It was purely the will of the spirits that the whole thing hadn't come tumbling down on them in the middle of the night.
He waited until the human was closer, then began to undo one of the knots with his front up arms. He gestured to the shelter, then down to the ground, then back up again.
"You might want me to rebuild it might be my question?" it said. Apparently it was quick on the uptake. He moved his body in what he hoped was a passable imitation of a human head nod, then pointed to another of the bad knots. To his immense satisfaction the human immediately began to fiddle with it with its fingers.
Good, he thought to himself, this will show the abbots.
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