Related by Lora, Twilit Majz of Many Generations
 

Object-oriented and process-oriented Life. My mother used to tell me about those two ways of living. I never really understood what she meant, not until this very moment. 

I suppose what we are raised with is invisible to us. That is an old truism, isn’t it? Wandering around with Zygon and Pon had finally shown me the light-year’s wide gulf between living as an object or just living.

It is an act of profound respect to lavish the moment with attention for its own sake, not for what one wants out of it, not for the shapes of tomorrow possible if that moment is correctly influenced. I suppose there is a kind of respect in forming a notion and sticking to it no matter what.

In Zygon’s world thoughts and sets of concepts were objects. So were living beings. He moved them around on his notion of ‘the cosmic playing field’ until the forces involved in each were aligned to achieve a particular, predetermined result. In Pon’s world, each person was an object with a well-defined role. These roles determined Iglenda thoughts, aspirations, sufferings, mandated them, made sense of them, probably most importantly justified them, for the Purics as well as the Organics. 

Pon was definitely suffering now. His Puric former buddies had him right where they wanted him. He was an impostor and a traitor combined as far as they were concerned. They were going to make it as hard on him as they could, and they were masters at making things hard on people.

I had made it a condition of my complicity in Zygon’s plan that he allow me to see what was happening with Pon. Of course, Zygon was monitoring Pon closely, courtesy of the Beni. Note to self: never forget again about curiosity and cats!

We re-oriented into a small, brightly lit room just as the head Puric began listing Pon’s many “crimes against sentience.”

“Interesting they associate sentience with the way they think about things,” Zygon snorted.

“Don’t we all?” I asked sullenly.

Zygon didn’t reply.

“Jakkel, once Brother, forever traitor, against the will of the Assembly, hast thou consorted with our enemies and done us harm grievous.” 

“Medievally formal bastards,” Zygon commented.

I guessed, “Jakkel” must have been Pon’s alias while he was undercover among the Purics.

“And what harm have you done, spawn of no mother and insensate machines?” Pon lashed back just before the head torturer deftly sliced a small piece of Pon’s thigh out, slapped it on a chafing dish and passed it off to be properly broiled and seasoned. 

Pon did not so much as let out a whimper.

“He won’t go down entertainingly,” Zygon growled.

“No, just in a light garlic sauce,” the darkest part of my brain quipped. I was horrified at myself.

“It’s the only way to deal with it,” Zygon sighed. “You still want to remain privy to this?”

“I want to kill them,” I said.

“We’re about to go one better than that. We’re about to free them from the reason they are the bastards they are!” Zygon snarled.

“Are you sure they weren’t always some kind of bastard. I mean, really, what kind of people turn their lives over to an absolute ruler, run screaming from their own biology, then murder all the females of their kind? Are you sure they weren’t insane to begin with?”

Our argument was interrupted by the bastard torturing Pon. 

“Jakkel, once brother, forever traitor, you knowingly allowed the enemies of the Assembly entry into forbidden places.”

They cut another piece of Pon’s calf out. He made no sign he felt anything other than complete contempt as he shouted, “Brothers of the Assembly, I charge you with the torture and murder of generations of my innocent sisters.”

“Zygon, you could stop this!” I charged. “Why are you allowing this to happen?”

“To save his people,” Zygon growled. “This was his idea. While they are distracted with their revenge, his people will do what they must.”

“Destroy the genetic stockpiles and breeding chambers?” I shouted. 

“That is right. It is all to the good. It will force these fools to die fools, or reunite with the other half of their race,” Zygon shouted right back. “And to make sure nothing gets in the way of that, you and I will take out the Harmonizers. Do you see that panel over there on your right?”

Somewhere behind our argument more accusations were traded and more pieces of Pon were sent off to be cooked.

“I will never forgive either of you for this!” I said, as a sense of tremulous calm crept through me. In some deep place I was quaking, Richter 9. I knew I’d never feel whole again. Pieces of me were breaking off, falling into a limitless void. 

“What panel?”

“Forgiveness is of no consequence,” Zygon replied. “There are many things for which I will never forgive myself. That one with the blue markings, just there,” he said, gesturing with several of his morae.

“I see it,” I said, misery overtaking me. “What do I do?” 

“May you be damned for all eternity to absolute knowledge of what you have done,” Pon shrieked somewhere in the background. His will was holding fast. His torturers had continued in their grim task. Nothing much was left of his lower legs. They were cauterizing as they went, to prevent him bleeding to death too soon.

“Press the switches I tell you in the exact order I tell you,” Zygon commanded. 

They were starting to work on Pon’s thighs. In real life is there no reprieve from injustice, no cavalry to burst in at the crucial moment to save someone. Pon had chosen his path. I could tell myself that, and it was true. Does the heart bleed any less in the presence of truth or lies?

“What will happen when I press these,” I asked. Somewhere off in the distance klaxons began blaring.

“That will be the end of their stockpile of genetic material. I expect the next thing you hear will be an explosion,” Zygon noted.

“More distraction,” I noted. My own feeling of crumbling into nothing was complete. “They’ll never look here, will they?”

“Not a chance,” Zygon laughed. “Besides which, the Beni will alert us the moment any one of their minds turns toward this room.”

The klaxons had not deterred Pon’s tormentors. His thighs were almost gone. He had indeed fainted at last. His torturers stopped to wait for him to regain consciousness. They would have too, except the explosion Zygon had predicted occurred…well, at least three separate explosions. That got their attention. They left Pon there under guard and went running to find out what was happening.

It was then I realized I was about to kill somebody, well several somebody’s just like Raynah. Zygon felt the thought pass through my mind. 

“You idiot,” he spat, “they are in no way like Raynah. Would Raynah have done any of the things they have done? Would zie have ordered the death of fully half of your kind?”

I found myself sinking to the floor. I was shaking. Tears were rolling down my cheeks. “I, I don’t know that I am qualified to answer that,” I finally said. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

“I have not come this far to fail now,” Zygon growled. “Get up, get up now!”

Somewhere in the background of my own turmoil I sensed Pon’s consciousness returning, like a faint candle in a dark cavern. 

“Life is a process,” I said. “We are not objects.”

“We are objects,” Zygon snarled, “objects in processes that must play themselves out. Think of yourself as a nerve cell in the body of this moment. It’s time for you to play your part. It is what he would want, you know?” 

“He would WANT?” I shouted, rising up, fury sending superhuman strength surging through my muscles. “He didn’t know you were planning to do THIS!”

“Not as such,” Zygon said. “He was so focused on his answer to the problem – get rid of the genetic material and the breeding tanks. I didn’t bother to argue with him. What would have been the point? He wanted the misery of his people ended. I am helping him do that. If these machines survive this moment, what do you suppose they will do with the remaining Purics at their disposal?”

My gut answered for my brain, “They will continue the war.” 

“Of course they will. It is who they are, what they know. Pon will have suffered for nothing. Is that what you want?”

Zygon was pulling out all the stops. From the depths of memory I heard Pon saying, “I will have nexus.” He had said that at the beginning of all this madness, what seemed like six eternities ago. I realized I was indeed a nexus point for many, many things. The outcome for my soul, Pon’s plans, the life of two peoples and a set of sentient machines I had never even met was in my hands. 
 
 

to be continued...
 
 

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