Chapter 12: Bel Canto

“I think we’re making progress,” David said as he heaved himself up into Selkie’s apartment. “Every day, we learn a little more, and we can paint a clearer picture of what Weaver actually is. I feel like we’re getting close to a solution.”

Selkie was distracted as Flower greeted her at the door, the little slug brushing its antennae against her cheek, her coloration brightening to match that of her pet.

“Hello, little one,” she giggled as she ran her hand down the animal’s feathery back. The slug rewarded her with bands of vibrant color, communicating its contentment, orbiting around her as she scuttled deeper into the room.

“Looks like we have a couple of hours to kill,” David said, checking the display on his wrist as he set down his hard case. “Other than stealing you away to get something to eat, I feel like we haven’t had much free time since I got here.”

“There is much work to be done,” she replied.

“Yeah, but while you might be comfortable being worked to death, I need a little me-time every once in a while. I should demand a weekend – the fourth of Rain, maybe. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be here.”

“I doubt the Administrator would agree to that,” Selkie scoffed, settling into a net chair beside one of her many fish tanks. Flower paddled over, sinking into the squishy mass of tentacles that was her master’s lap.

“That’s not really my problem,” he said, stretching his arms above his head. “Right. First thing’s first.”

He walked over to a nearby table made of strange, branching material and started to drag a chair across the polished floor. Selkie looked like she wanted to rise from her seat to stop him, but Flower was curled up in her lap, and he made it to her side before she could protest. He flopped down into the low seat, hearing the netting creak, sitting in a kind of reclining position. Selkie stared at him as he shifted to get comfortable, one of her four hands stroking Flower’s back.

“I’ve been staying with you for the better part of three days, but I feel like I know hardly anything about you,” he began.

He waited for some kind of response, Selkie watching him silently as she stroked her slug.

“So...” David continued, prompting her to continue with a wave of his hand.

“So ... you want to read my personnel file?” Selkie asked, confused.

“No, I want to talk to you!” he replied as he spread his arms in exasperation. “Tell me about yourself – how you got here, what you like, what you dislike. What are your hobbies outside of work? What’s your favorite color? You know – normal stuff that people talk about when they want to get to know one another better.”

“Brokers do not have such discussions,” she replied, turning her attention back to her pet as though that was all the answer he required.

“Oh, come on,” he complained. “You must have friends. There must be situations where you talk for the simple pleasure of it. Remember when we had that picnic on the beach, and we talked about the planets? You enjoyed that, right? You liked showing me your collection of trinkets.”

“That was an exchange of information,” she explained, but he could tell that she was becoming less sure of herself. “We communicate in a professional setting or when we are cooperating to achieve a goal – for example, in a game or simulation. Leisure time is more often spent in solitude.”

“You wouldn’t invite a friend over to just hang out and chat?”

“I suspect that the term friend means something different to you than it does to me,” she replied as Flower burbled happily in her lap.

“Who do you talk to about your interests?”

“You must know by now that we are not wholly solitary creatures,” she chided. “I have acquaintances who I contact through virtual means. There are public forums where Brokers discuss current events and political subjects. Tens of thousands of Brokers attend each Council meeting to observe the proceedings.”

“But all of this happens remotely?” David pressed. “You don’t invite friends over for parties – you don’t see Jeff for a meal after work?”

“There is no need to leave one’s home when one can attend such functions virtually,” she replied, gesturing to the hologram emitter at the far end of the room with a tentacle. “You cannot tell me that humans have no such technologies?”

“Well, we do,” he conceded with a shrug. “If you live thousands of miles away from someone, or you can do your job from home, you might use vidcalls and VR to interact with people. We have games and simulations where we play with people in different cities or countries. If you live on different planets, you might have to send a message by quantum relay, which is a huge pain in the ass and takes forever. None of that replaces in-person interactions, though. People – most people – still have friends and colleagues that they interact with.”

“It would be very unusual for a Broker to invite someone into their home without good reason,” Selkie replied. “This is my property,” she added, waving to their surroundings with two of her tentacles while a third continued to stroke Flower. “It is a safe place where I keep all of my valuable possessions – somewhere I can come to be alone. It belongs to me.”

“It’s your safe space,” he said with a nod of understanding. “Maybe you’re a little territorial too, I get that. Nobody likes people touching their stuff.”

“The wealth, property, and territory that one accrues holds great significance in our culture.”

“Well, I’m not a Broker, and I’m already here,” David said as he locked his fingers behind his head. “So let’s have a chat.”

“Very well,” she said, exhaling a sigh through her vents. “What do you wish to learn?”

“I want to know how you got here,” he replied, relaxing into the awkward chair as best he could manage. “I don’t know how long Broker education takes or whether you mature faster than humans, but you seem young for someone who’s running her own research division.”

“Broker education rarely proceeds at a set rate,” she replied, stroking Flower’s underbelly as the creature rolled over for her. “There are exams that must be passed at certain milestones, but tutelage is tailored to each individual.”

“What, so you don’t have classes?” David asked. “In human society, we have a bunch of kids in a room with one teacher.”

“How distracting,” she muttered. “Broker children have virtual teachers that can modify the curriculum and teaching methods to suit their individual needs.”

“Of course,” David replied. “You’re tutored by robots – that explains a lot.”

“I did reach those milestones unusually quickly, however,” she continued. “A scout for the Administrator’s company gave me a good offer once I had completed my formal education, and I began working for their research division almost immediately.”

“How long have you been working there?” he asked.

“Almost sixty Mountains now,” she replied wistfully.

“About three of our years, then,” he said after taking a moment to do the conversion. “It’s kind of like graduating from MIT at twenty and immediately being snapped up by Navy R&D. Impressive.”

“I suppose I am some Mountains ahead of my peers,” she conceded. She was trying to sound modest, but he could tell from her vibrant coloration that she didn’t object to a little ego-stroking.

“I’m considered somewhat of a prodigy myself,” David continued, placing a hand on his chest proudly. “I graduated with honors from the most prestigious institution in the Americas at sixteen, got my Bachelor’s at nineteen, and I had my PhD by twenty-three. I’ve been working as a researcher in the field of neural networks and artificial intelligence ever since, and I’ve published more papers than any of my colleagues.”

“Do you have many friends?” she asked. It was an innocent question, one that was related to his previous comments about human social behaviors, but it took him off guard all the same.

“Well,” he replied, faltering for a moment. “Advancing through the educational system so rapidly does result in a certain degree of, uh ... alienation from your peers. You don’t exactly get invited to sorority parties when you’re below the drinking age, and that kind of intensive study leaves little time for much else.”

“But, you said that-”

“I’m an unusual case,” he replied hastily, cutting her off. “It’s lonely at the top, as they say.”

“We do not say that,” Selkie scoffed, giving her slug an affectionate pat.

“Yeah, well we do,” he grumbled as he crossed his arms. “I assure you that my colleagues have the utmost respect for my work ... even if I don’t get invited to many social events. Anyway, enough about me – I want to learn about you.”

“There is not much to tell,” she said. “I do not know what you expect of me.”

“Were you born in this city?” he asked, leaning forward a little in the uncomfortable chair. “Where are your parents? Assuming that Brokers have parents...”

“Of course we have parents,” she replied with an annoyed click of her beak. “And no, I was not hatched in this city – I was hatched in a nursery closer to the Terminator. I lived with my parents until I came of age and signed my social contract. Mother was always quick to remind me how difficult my brooding was whenever I disappointed her. When I completed my schooling, I relocated here to be closer to the facility.”

“So there are nurseries, and eggs are involved,” David said with a smile. “Intriguing.”

“Not a subject for polite conversation,” she replied with a disapproving click.

“My parents were both academics,” David continued. “I can credit them for pushing me to study hard and for kindling an interest in the sciences in me at an early age. A little overbearing at times, perhaps, but I can thank them for kickstarting my illustrious career.”

“Where were you hatched?” she asked, tilting her head. “Born, I should say.”

“Toronto,” he replied. “Toronto is a city in Canada, which is a nation on Earth, which is a planet in the UN. Here – you can see the flag on my patch.”

“Flag?” she asked, trying not to disturb Flower as she leaned a little closer. “I thought that was some kind of warning symbol.”

“No, it’s the symbol of a state,” he explained as he pointed to his shoulder. “Like a national logo. We print them on fabric and mount them on long poles so that they wave around in the wind.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t know, I guess because it’s cool?”

“They require cooling?”

“No, cool is an expression,” he explained. “It means excellent or admirable in this context. In others, it can mean someone who is level-headed and calm, and it can also refer to temperature.”

“I find your language very irritating.”

“You’re making this whole process very difficult, you know,” he complained as he settled back into the netting. “I feel like I never see Brokers doing anything other than working or sleeping, except for that one time you played music for me. Speaking of which, you told me that you’d show me that poem.”

“I suppose I did,” she said, gently easing Flower off her lap. The little slug seemed to wake up, weaving away through the water, flashing what might be annoyed colors like a cat being woken from a nap. “Come.”

They rose from their seats and made their way over to the projector, David watching as Selkie positioned herself beneath the disk-shaped device that was mounted in the overhanging ceiling. A floating holographic interface flickered to life, and the lenses that formed a halo above began to illuminate, the alien using one of her tentacles to manipulate the controls.

“Perhaps an abbreviated version of the opera adaptation,” she muttered to herself as she swiped through the options. “That way, it will conclude in an hour rather than several phases...”

“Your operas last that long?” David asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Some do,” she replied.

David stepped a little closer to her, expecting another tube of holographic images to be projected in a cylinder equal to the size of the disk on the ceiling. Instead, the field expanded outward, covering an area that would have been large enough to fill an average living room. Perhaps this was the theater mode.

The wall of light that surrounded them began to take on new colors, filling in to form a horizon, David finding himself standing on the shore of an island chain. It wasn’t unlike the vista where he and Selkie had enjoyed their picnic, the fossilized coral floor vanishing beneath white sands and azure surf, the blue sky filling with swirling clouds. The scene was so complete and convincing that he might have thought he was really standing there if not for the sensation of water pressure bearing down on his suit.

Something touched its lining, and he lifted a hand, feeling raindrops start to spatter his glove. It must be the acoustic cavitation device. It was a remarkably realistic sensation, his mind and his senses in conflict as they tried to reconcile what his skin was feeling and his eyes were seeing. He no longer felt like he was submerged in water, but there was still resistance when he moved.

From the shimmering ocean ahead, a shape began to emerge, a broker rising from the surf. It was so immaculately rendered that he could see every chromatophore on its glistening skin, its tentacles leaving furrows in the sand as it climbed onto the beach. It looked just as real and as present as Selkie. Whether this was a simulation or some kind of recording of a real event, he couldn’t say. There might not be much difference for the Brokers.

As the alien walked up towards them, they opened their mouth and began to sing – a strange siren song that seemed higher than his range of hearing in places. It was ethereal, like nothing he had ever heard before. The melody was soon followed by music, an orchestra rising from the background noise of lapping waves, growing in intensity to accompany the voice. It was soft, like strings and wind, almost seeming to carry on the breeze like a whisper.

The realistic vista began to shift and change, the colors running like paint on a canvas, the sky filling with shimmering auroras. Even the blood-red hue of the sunset seemed to grow more vibrant and intense, as though an invisible hand was dialing up the saturation. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the sand almost seemed to sparkle as the stranger walked over it, the tiny grains catching the light.

Behind the Broker, more of their kind began to emerge, and there were soon a dozen of them walking up the beach.

“The singer is Snow,” Selkie whispered as she watched from beside him. “The others are her clan. They are coming together to celebrate a festival of conjunction – when certain planets align.”

David felt compelled to step out of their path as the host of Brokers made their way towards the jungle behind him. When he turned, he saw that there was a giant fire pit. It was filled with hot coals, orange flames licking at a stone slab that had been placed atop it, the raindrops that touched it turning to wisps of steam. A spread of food was being cooked atop the hot rock, cuts of fresh fish and shelled crustaceans sizzling. It was being tended by a Broker who was wearing a thick, insulated coat resembling something that a metalworker might wear, their eyes visible through a narrow slat. It looked thick and heavy – likely designed to keep their skin from drying out. They were holding an iron poker in one of their mitten-like gloves, prodding at the cuts of meat and turning them over.

David walked closer to get a better look, feeling the water warm at his approach. The cavitation device could change the temperature, too. This was an experience that incorporated every sense, from sight and sound to touch.

There was a long table carved from wood not far from the fire, and the group approached it, its height such that they could sit comfortably in the sand. One by one, they were brought ceramic trays that served as plates, likely having been warmed by the fire ready for their arrival.

“They’re all eating together,” David mused, turning to Selkie curiously.

“As I mentioned, my ancestors were forced to be more social without the conveniences of the modern age. They had strong constitutions.”

The cook served them their cuts of meat, then the singer rose from her seat at the head of the table, spreading her four arms as she began to serenade the other diners. As the patterning of her skin changed to illustrate her emotions, so did the world around her, David turning his head to the sky to watch the psychedelic display. The clouds cleared, stars twinkling in the haze, the dancing auroras taking on hues of bright blue and green.

“She thanks the deity of Harvest for their bounty,” Selkie explained, her skin shifting to mirror that of the singer. He was brought right back to her mesmerizing dance the day before, remembering how the music had touched her so deeply, as though her emotions were merely the strings of an instrument waiting to be plucked.

David felt a chill in the water, turning to see storm clouds approaching from the direction of the jungle. The sky was literally growing darker, becoming overcast – even the quality of the light becoming somehow dimmer and more oppressive. The leaves of the trees and the fern-like plants in the undergrowth started to freeze, creeping frost crystals growing on them, glittering icicles forming on their branches.

A far lower, resonating song began, somehow far-off and mournful. Another figure emerged from the trees, lingering at the edge of the forest as though afraid to step any closer, heralding the winter. This Broker had an arrow-shaped fin on their head, indicating that they hailed from a colder region of the planet.

“Let me guess – Mountain,” David said.

“He observes from afar,” Selkie said, her skin shifting to darker tones that matched this new, harrowing song. “Struck by Snow’s beauty, he longs to approach but cannot bear the heat of the fire.”

There must be layers of metaphor in this opera. The characters were portrayed as real people rather than ethereal entities, representing subraces of Brokers from colder and warmer climes. At the same time, they represented the movements of the planets, depicted based on their proximity to the sun. Mountain was the planet furthest from its orbit, at once a deity and a man from the polar regions whose aversion to heat was very literal.

Would Rain be depicted as one of the dumbo Brokers from the warmer regions, where they used their ear-like flaps to help regulate their body temperature?

The scene shifted to show a view from underwater, the sudden change jarring him. He was standing in a shallow coral reef now, the colorful, jagged formations rising up all around him. It wasn’t unlike the reef that he had passed through with Selkie, the sediment beneath his feet covered in green seagrass that waved in the current, making it look like a meadow scattered with boulders. There was something stylized about the corals, as though they were brighter and more vibrant than reality would allow. The shimmering of the sunlight that bled in through the water above created dappled pools on the ground, shafts of light penetrating the depths.

Shoals of brightly-colored fish filled the water like flocks of birds, directing his gaze upward towards a magnificent edifice. A glimmering tower rose up ahead of him like a lighthouse, its foundations nestled in the reef. It was made from the same pale, bone-colored rock that he had seen in Selkie’s apartment – fossilized corals that had been used like slabs of stone. The walls of the great tower were open in places, giving it an almost sponge-like appearance, allowing Brokers to enter and seawater to circulate. Without pumps, their buildings would have to be open to the ocean.

It rose some thirty meters to the surface – maybe five or six stories – where it breached the water into the open air. Through the distortion, he could make out some kind of platform above, perhaps an observation area or a dock. As well as the prominent fossils, there were impressive pearls and gemstones inlaid into the very stone, forming shapes and spirals that looked like stars and planets. They glittered when they caught the light, clearly astrological in their purpose, likely designed to mirror the stellar bodies. It was also an impressive show of wealth.

When his eyes wandered back down, he spotted a few nearby structures, too. More buildings made from the same pale stone dotted the underwater landscape, almost like the tower was a castle, and this was its keep. Each one was filled with openings, more like the corals that surrounded them than the pressurized buildings of today.

“A sea spire,” Selkie explained, noting the wonder in his expression. “It marks the territory of Snow, and those who live in its footprint are her subjects. They pay her a tithe in exchange for protection.”