Donald Moffitt - Genesis 02

cast a glance at the folded easel of the computer signboard that Jao was removing from the walker.
    “I don’t understand,” Bram said.
    Heln hesitated again. “I don’t believe they’re aware of Jorv.”
    “But they saw him. They rushed him till he backed off.”
    “That’s not what I mean. I mean they’re not aware of him as an entity. They’re aware of the alteration of hierarchical space that his presence caused.”
    Jao paused in his labors. “Just like physics,” he said. “The shape of space is defined by the presence of matter.”
    Heln pursed her lips. “I know it might not seem to make much sense…”
    “No, no,” Bram said hastily. “In the physical sciences we reason from a single datum sometimes and reach the most astonishing conclusions. You’ve got a new science here. We’ll take your word for it.”
    Ame was anxiously surveying the scene within the floodlit area. “Jorv just got himself chased again,” she said. “We’d better get over there before he gets himself into trouble.”
    “Yes,” Bram said. First he checked the air bubble of Jorv’s walker. It had deflated because the thickened edges of the gasket were misaligned. Shira had been right about Jorv’s carelessness. He must have shouldered his way out of the vehicle frontally, probably spreading the bubble’s lips apart with his hands, then letting them snap back into place. Bram realigned the closure and saw some of the collapsed folds begin to stir and rise; they might need that air on the way back—Jorv hadn’t bothered to set out with a full complement of reserve air bottles, and if he’d had to get back home on his own, he might have made a close thing of it.
    Jao slung his computer over his shoulder, and Bram shouldered the folded easel. Ame, he saw, had a big pad under her arm; she and Shira relieved Heln of some of her excess equipment. Together, they danced lightly across the landscape toward the stick-people’s camp.
    As they approached the lit area, two of the spindly creatures trotted by at close hand, bearing a large, lightweight construction panel between them. Their gait was three-legged, and the long tubular abdomens, with gauntleted pincers on the ends, were curled around for extra support. They were backlighted by the brilliant lamps, and through the cloudy sheaths that covered their bodies, Bram got an impression of stiff, slender, many-jointed legs. The huge boxy helmets, concealing their secrets in the reflected glare, made them look like walking packing crates.
    Jao stepped forward, holding up an outspread hand, but the creatures veered off to join a work crew at the perimeter of illumination.
    “You’d think they’d have stopped,” he said, affronted.
    “Different body language,” Shira suggested. “Holding up a hand doesn’t mean the same thing to them.”
    It sounded reasonable to Bram, but he saw Heln’s pursed lips and frown of concentration.
    They moved into the light. Bram saw Jorv’s spacesuited figure ahead, stalking one of the stick-creatures. Jorv approached at a crouch, the lines of his body an exaggerated study in caution. The stick-creature was half turned away, flexing its reedy legs, its sheathed abdomen twitching slightly. It let Jorv get within eight or nine feet, then, abruptly, its legs bunched like springs and it soared over his head and lit down next to a pile of construction materials, where, without preamble, it joined its fellows in putting up one of the polyhedral structures.
    Jorv straightened up, every line of his body showing disappointment, and began stalking another one of the creatures.
    “We’re not even going to get that close to one,” Jao grumbled.
    Every time Bram and his party seemed about to intersect the path of one of the creatures, it veered off and ignored them.
    “Just hold on,” Bram said, “and we’ll be in the thick of them.”
    “I’m insulted,” Jao said. “Am I invisible, or what?”
    Heln said, “They see you … but they don’t see you.”
    “Maybe they’re some kind of hive creatures,” Shira put in. “No real intelligence. The intelligence is in that bubble they landed in.”
    “They’ve got intelligence,” Bram said. “If intelligence means handling tools and machinery.”
    Then, without warning, they were upon one of the creatures. It reared up in their path, the light shining full on it, and for the first time Bram got a good look at what was inside those cagelike helmets.
    Its face was the stuff of