Strange New Worlds 2016 (18 page)

So lost in thought was the Starfleet captain that he nearly collided with a small
girl.

She gawked at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “My name is Benjamin. Are you hurt?”

“She’s fine,” said an elderly man approaching. He took the girl by the hand. “Marisa
has had her share of bumps and bruises. Before she reaches her grandfather’s age she
will doubtless have many more.” His eyes squinted as he examined Sisko. “So the rumors
are true. We have special visitors.”

Sisko grinned. “I don’t know about special. But I am a visitor. Benjamin Sisko.”

“I am Gen. Please, join Marisa and me for a walk by the river.”

“Is it true you are ancient?” asked Marisa as they strolled along the riverbank.

Gen arched an eyebrow. “From the young, come true questions.”

“I can see that,” said Sisko. He tossed the apple core into the river and watched
it float away. He said to Marisa, “I am ancient. And wise.”

Marisa smiled at that. “Not as wise as Grandfather.”

The old man nodded and squeezed her hand. “Perhaps that is so. Let us see. Do you
have any questions for our special visitor, young one?”

She thought for a moment. “I can’t think of anything. Maybe he has a question for
me.”

Sisko chuckled. “I do, I do. Tell me about the history of Bajor. I’m curious about
all that has changed in the millennium since my time. I recognize very little. In
fact, I recognize nothing at all. Only the river remains.”

Marisa furrowed her brow and looked at her grandfather. “I don’t understand.”

The old man sat down on a large rock and patted a spot beside him for Marisa to sit.
“He is talking about the past, dear one. The past beyond memory. He comes from a time
before Renewal.”

“Renewal?” Sisko asked.

Gen sighed deeply. “I’m talking about the burdens of history, Benjamin Sisko. Past
grievances, ancestral obligations, injustices long forgotten. Imagine being free of
the weight of centuries and starting anew. Turn the page and move on. Every fifty
years.”

Now it was Sisko’s turn to furrow his brow. “I don’t understand.”

“Renewal. Every half century we literally wipe away the past. Relics are destroyed.
History tossed into the bonfire, the ashes buried. And then, and only then, do we
erase our memories. Willingly, I might add. Each one of us, every one of us, starts
over again. Oh, we retain the memory of some things. Our role as parents, for example.
Those with special skills retain the knowledge needed to take care of society. Doctors
and engineers. But everything else . . . is gone. Even our names.”

Sisko sat down slowly beside the old man and his granddaughter. “People willingly
forget who they are?”

“We are given a chance to re-create ourselves.”

“All that you love . . .”

“And hate.”

“Gone?” Sisko said.

“And with it, the enmity that builds over time. There have been no wars for . . .”
Gen paused to consider. “No wars for centuries.”

“How would you know if the history books are being rewritten every fifty years?”

The old man nodded. “True. I don’t. But we are told that war only leads to more war.
Call it vengeance or justice, but one act of violence always leads to another.”

Sisko thought back to the tapestries he’d seen in the bazaar. There had been a newness
to them that he hadn’t quite been able to grasp when he saw them hanging in the market
stalls. And there was something else. He cursed himself for not noticing much earlier;
the absence of the traditional Bajoran earring. No one wore it this era. It was now
an ancient tradition long gone. “You speak of history. But what of culture?” he asked,
knowing the answer already. “The art, the literature, the poetry of your people?”

“Renewed.”

“You mean erased.”

The old man nodded. “For the betterment of society.” Gen moved a clump of dirt with
the tip of his booted toe. “Art is a reflection of society. Stories contain the emotions
and feelings of a time. They can perpetuate grievances and prejudices. These can lead
to disorder and discord. Even death.”

Sisko turned the idea over in his mind. “When does Renewal begin?”

Gen stroked his granddaughter’s hair. “As it happens, Benjamin Sisko, it starts tomorrow.
Over the next several days, we will begin the destruction of the past in order to
prepare for a new future.”

Sisko looked back at the market.

“Yes,” said Gen. “All of that will be destroyed. The paintings, the pottery, and the
poetry. And then on the eighth day, a button will be pressed somewhere and in an instant
we will forget it all. Forget everything.” His hand stopped brushing Marisa’s hair.

“And will you forget your granddaughter’s name?”

The old man’s eyes were watery. “Yes. And she will forget me, too. We will return
to our family home before the process, so that we will know we are family. And over
time we may . . . .
will
 . . . learn to love each other again.”

Now Marisa took Gen’s hand in hers and squeezed.

“It is too bad you are leaving. I would have enjoyed hearing stories of our ancient
past.”

Sisko gazed out over the river. “I don’t know what to say. Bajor’s culture is, or
was, unique. If you ever leave Bajor, I hope you are able to visit a museum to see
what your ancestors created. In my time, a museum on Rigel IV had a stunning collection
of ancient Bajoran frescoes.”

“You misunderstand something, Benjamin.”

Sisko returned his attention to Gen.

The old man said, “There are no museums anymore. Renewal happens everywhere to everyone
in the known galaxy. In the here and now there are no such things as museums.”

Dax looked with no small satisfaction at the holographic representation of the
Rio Grande
. For Valel, the nanoprobes slowly piecing together the runabout seemed to take an
eternity. Dax tried to explain that in her time the ship would’ve been simply scrapped.
Satisfied with the progress, she returned to the topic of their conversation.

“Explain how Renewal is accomplished. How is it possible that it occurs simultaneously
in the same instant across the galaxy?”

The Cardassian simply shrugged. “Does it matter? It simply happens.” He could see
that Dax was not satisfied with this answer. “You are a true scientist, Jadzia Dax.
I respect that.” In an instant the image of the runabout vanished. “Repairs will be
complete within three-point-seven-two days. The same technology that repairs your
ship aids in Renewal. After the ceremony of destruction occurs, nanoprobes are released
in the atmosphere and are inhaled. They act on key areas of the brain. Each planet
is responsible for itself. The timing is carefully planned so that it seems to happen
simultaneously across vast amounts of space and time.”

Dax smirked. “The ceremony of destruction?”

Valel raised his hands in front of him. “It’s not called that officially. But some
of us refer to it as such.”

“You sound conflicted.”

“Do I?”

“You’re a scientist. You must find such wholesale destruction offensive.”

“They are only material objects. It is for the greater good.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

Valel stiffened and his face lost all expression as he momentarily became lost in
thought. Then he seemed to come to a decision and stepped closer to Dax. “There are
some who fear your arrival. You are a reminder of a shameful past.” Dax opened her
mouth to say something, but he quickly continued. “And there are others who see you
as a beacon of hope.”

Dax raised one eyebrow. “Hope? For what?”

“A hope to restore the past. Will you come with me? I want to show you something.”

Dax considered it for a moment before saying, “The last person to say that to me was
a Ferengi just before I sent him to the medical bay with a broken fibula. Okay. Show
me.”

Worf caught up with Sisko as the captain was striding down the corridor toward the
reception hall. “Captain, I have been investigating the offensive and defensive capabilities
of the local militia.”

“And?”

“Apart from a rudimentary constabulary, there is no planet-wide military capable of
defense or offense. In fact, Captain”—Worf looked meaningfully at Sisko—“there is
no Starfleet.”

Sisko paused at the door. “Given what I’ve learned, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I have spoken to many of the locals, both native to Bajor and not. The United Federation
of Planets still exists as an organization. In fact, there is not a planetary system
that is not a member. The Romulans, Ferengi, Breen, and even the Jem’Hadar are all
part of this Federation.” Noticing Sisko’s reaction to this, he said, “You do not
seem pleased.”

“I’m not sure, Mister Worf. In theory this should be a good thing, shouldn’t it? The
ideals of the Federation are noble. We’re the good guys, after all. At least in our
time.” He pushed open the door and found P’Tash waiting by the veranda.

“Captain Sisko. You have had a busy day exploring our world. I understand that you
and your officers have been asking lots of questions.”

Sisko joined her by the open veranda door. A cool evening breeze wafted through, gently
stirring the sheer curtains. Sisko sensed an even greater coldness from P’Tash. “We
have. And I’m not sure I like the answers.”

“Renewal.”

“Yes. It’s not something I necessarily agree with.”

“Then it is a good thing you will be leaving soon. A good thing for you and a good
thing for us.”

“You seem to think we are some sort of virus that can infect your people. As if simply
talking to us could be dangerous.”

“The past is dangerous. The past is where anger and fear and hatred live. All of that
is gone. Now there is galactic peace.”

“But at what cost? You must destroy and re-create yourselves every generation.”

A shiver ran through the Bajoran, and she closed the veranda door. “Every cycle, there
are those who ask the same questions you do. Of course there is a price for peace.
But it is a price worth paying. The price of war is far greater.” She looked from
Sisko to Worf. “You are soldiers from an era of bloody conflict. I would hope you
could appreciate what we have accomplished.”

How many lives were lost in the war with the Dominion?
Sisko wondered. How many friends had died? “I can’t argue with you. There is something
undeniably appealing about your philosophy.”

P’Tash smiled. “Let us hope Valel and Dax will soon be finished. If you are still
here in eight days, then you will experience Renewal yourself firsthand. You will
forget all that you were and you will never be able to leave.”

The underground hall was vast. Jadzia Dax could not see where it ended or where it
began. From where she stood at the bottom of wide, curving stairs, the hall seemed
to stretch endlessly to the right and to the left. Above her, lights hung like stalactites
in an enormous cavern. Everywhere she looked, there were
things
. A ten-meter-tall bronze obelisk. Shelves with actual books and scrolls shared space
with small clay figurines. A wooden life-sized carving of a horse. A tile mosaic.
She recognized objects from dozens of planets. Was that a Vulcan harp beside a Klingon
bat’leth
?