Read The Judas Rose Online

Authors: Suzette Haden Elgin

The Judas Rose (35 page)

BOOK: The Judas Rose
5.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Paul laughed, and stood up quickly, tucking the files under his arm. “I'll ignore that,” he said. “And I want you to know that
your
cooperation—without benefit of cattle prod or Takeover Chip—is greatly appreciated. But trust me, please. I am a government troubleshooter. My function is to find out what's wrong and find out who can fix it and order it done.
Your
function is to start Interfacing these Aliens with infant Earth whales. You leave it to me to put together whatever it will take to deal with the subsequent stage of this project, which is years in the future. And I'll be in touch with you—or someone else from D.A.T. will be—as soon as we have something useful to tell you.”

“You really think something can be done? In spite of all the evidence? After all these years?”

“Something can always be done,” Paul told him. “The only question, ever, is whether it's worth doing. There's plenty of time. Set your minds at rest, and let me get started on this. Let me see what I can find out . . . let me get in touch with some people. Don't worry about it—you fulfilled
your
obligations when you took the time to get the facts into my thick head. Now it's up to D.A.T., and I have got to get going.”

Hands were shaken all around, even if reluctantly, and he backed out of the room, Mister Joe Cordial all the way, smiling and nodding, and praise be to god he was again in the elevators and on his way back to civilization. With a lot more to do than when he'd arrived, but that was all right; keeping busy was Paul White's middle name. He ate and drank and lived and breathed and
thrived
on keeping busy. Some men cared about sex; Paul didn't mind it. But work, now—that was what really mattered to him. And if he could find a way to break this particular logjam, which had obviously been sitting around forgotten in the files, a plum just ripe and red and waiting for the plucking of some enterprising individual, why then, by god, you'd see some
action!

He was looking forward to it.

CHAPTER 15

“I am Selena Opal Hame, and this is what I want to say to you.”

I do know what they are doing. I have known for a long time. Yes, I do know. I can see what it is. Here is what I do know.

I know that when their mouths move and noises come it is because they are sharing what is inside their heads. They can show each other, or they can do it when no other person is there. (I do not understand that part, no. Why would they want to show their own selves what is in their own heads? But when there is more than one person there, then I understand what they are doing.)

I know that sometimes when their bodies move that is a way to show what is inside the head, too. Not always. It is very hard for me to know which moving is about the real things in the head and which moving is only
doing
. Cutting is doing. Sewing is doing. Digging is doing. Eating is doing. But I cannot always tell.

And I have seen another thing. I have seen persons that shape their hands and arms and move them in a way that is a
special
doing. Those persons move their hands and arms and faces the way others move their mouths, to show what is inside their heads.

All this is magic, and I do not have any magic, you see. I never have had it. Only wonderings. How do they do it? I think I know what must be the
what
of it. I think there is first the real chair, inside their head . . . that chair is what is real inside their head. And then, some magic how, there is a noise that they hook together and make with their mouth and it tells another person
that what is real in the first one's head is CHAIR. Then, you see, they both know! And that must be a joy. Sharing what is in your head. That is what I cannot do.

It took me a long time to learn even this much. I did not always understand the what of it. When I was a small person, I saw their mouths move and their hands move and it was a great wondering and nothing more than that. For a very long time, while cold times and hot times came and went away and came again.

I remember well when I was one of the small ones, but that was very long ago. Now I am a large person, that has gray lines in the hair. No small ones ever have gray lines in the hair. And now that I am a large person, too, I understand that much—but I do not understand the
how
. I do not understand how a person decides which noise will be for which real thing, or which shape of the fingers and hands will be for which real thing. Who decides? How does one of them know which noise the other one has chosen to be the real thing? How can they remember which noise it was, when all the noises are so different, and none of them go together in the air? No, I do not understand that, except that it is magic.

I am not the only broken one there is. Where I lived before, there were other small ones almost like me, that could not do the magic either. Almost like me, but not exactly like me. Because now I am a person with gray in the hair, you see, and every single one of those other small ones was there only as many hot times and cold times as I have fingers, or maybe a few more, and then they grew very white and thin. And then they were gone, in the sleep that does not have a waking. So that I was all alone at that place among the ones that know how to make the noises and shapes and hook them to real things. Alone. I was so alone.

Those other small ones that were broken like I am broken—they tried to show me what was inside
their
heads. They did try. Their mouths did not move, their bodies did not move, but they caused a noise to happen in my ears. But I could not understand their noises. I was so sorry, but I could not understand. They made a noise like the dog makes. A noise like the noise when glass breaks and falls. A noise like when persons walk over many small rocks. A noise like the noise when much water is coming from the wall. Or just noise-noise, that nothing else makes. . . . They did not have the magic, either, and their own magic did not work with me. I do not know if it ever worked
between some two of them, but I think probably it did not. If it had, why would they have gone away so quickly?

Many times large persons came and looked in our ears, looked in our mouths, put little wires on our heads. Always I thought they were bringing the magic to me, and to the other small ones, and when it was over I would turn and look at the mouths or the fingers, and think MAYBE NOW I WILL UNDERSTAND. But it never happened.

I don't know what in me is the broken part. My ears work; my eyes work; my head works. My fingers are not broken; I can cut and sew and dig and stir and cook. All the doings. I can go where other persons go, I know it is not my legs. My mouth opens like their mouths, but it does not make any noise . . . perhaps it is my mouth that is the broken part.

And when I was all alone in that other place, where all the small ones are together with only a few large persons to look after them, a person came and brought me to this new place. Where at first it was the same; I understood the what, but I did not understand the how.

But now, there is a new thing! This is what I want to tell you. There was a day, in a cold time. I was rubbing the long table in the eating room with a soft cloth and a kind of stuff like butter, that smells of lemons. To make the table shine in the light, you see. I know how to do this. One of the persons here taught me, the first day I came. This person stood behind me and held my hands and moved them. This person helped me pick up the cloth and put the lemon stuff on the wood. Moved my arms making circles on the wood, making it shine, until I knew what the doing should be and did it myself. Every day I do some of the wood in this house, so that all of it shines in the light. I am very strong; I do this very well.

And that day it was the long table for eating that I was making bright, when suddenly one of them came up to me holding a small box in the hand. So small it could be hidden away in the hand. This one touched me, so that I would look. Took my hand and put it on the small box, to feel that there were buttons on it. Took one of my fingers and touched three of the buttons on it. And the box made noises! Noises! But it was the
other
kind of noises, the kind that stay the same and make a real thing in the air! Like a very little piece of what comes from a much bigger box that is in one of the other rooms—it makes long strings of noises that are real. Whenever that box is making the noises, I always stop and I wait until
it
stops, if they will let me. They have seen me do that, and almost always they let me, unless it
goes on for too long. It's wonderful, it makes noises that hold together and don't just leak away like the noises the persons make, like water running into the ground leaks away.

When the person showed me that the small box made noises like the large one, I stopped rubbing the table and I held my breath, wanting. That person, that has gray in the hair like I do, took my finger and touched it to three buttons on the small box. And again there was a noise that was real, and had all its parts together! And while the noise was there, that person raised a hand of its own and hit the table.

I stepped back, very fast, in case I would be the next thing that was hit. But the person stood there looking at me, and over and over again did the same two things. Touched the three buttons on the small box, to make the real noise in the air. Hit the table, while the noise was doing. Over and over again.

I knew it was important. I could feel that. I am not stupid. I knew I must
look
and
wait
and
think
. Was it a new kind of work that I was being taught to do?

The large person stood still a little time, and moved the face in places, and then took my hand and led me to a chair. Went down on the knees on the bare floor beside the chair. Set the small box on the chair. Touched three buttons—but not the
same
three buttons. It made a different real and whole noise in the air. And while that new noise was there, hit the chair gently with the hand.

Oh, my head hurt, I could not breathe! What
was
it? I could not just stand there, I had to try, I had to
do
. I reached out my hands, I dropped the cloth that I use to make all the wood shine in the light, and I rubbed that person's hands with my hands to make
them
bright, so that I would be able to see!

We looked at each other. And then that person began to do a certain thing. Sat me down in the chair and put the hands one on each side of my face and looked at me hard. Touched the forehead to my forehead, so gently. Caused the small box to make the noise with its three parts, and tapped the chair with its finger,
hard
. Went to the table, carrying the box, and caused it to make the other noise with
its
three parts, and tapped the table hard. Went back and forth, making me stay where I was. The noise; the chair. The other noise; the table. Over and over and over.

When the magic came, it was like what the lightning does to the sky in the hot time! It was a great crashing and a tearing inside my head, and a great light flashing through me! I understood, oh I understood, I could not be still, I ran! I went to the
table, I took the small box, I pushed the three buttons that make TABLE, I ran to the chair, I caused the box to make CHAIR! I did it twice, I did it again! And then I turned to that person, and it was clapping the hands together and its mouth was moving and noises were coming and others came running into the room all together in a great hurry!

That person took my shoulders and held them, then, and looked hard at me again and took a long breath—we were at the table—and did not move the mouth, but made CHAIR somehow with the mouth all closed, just like the small box. And looked at me, so hard.

I knew what to do. I knew the magic! I ran to the chair, I took the small box. I made CHAIR with the buttons on the small box. And every single person in the room, every single one, was clapping the hands together!

Oh, it is true magic, and I understand it. This is what I understand.

On the small box that I can hold in my hand, there are buttons to push. One for each of the fingers I have and then enough for one of my hand's fingers more. When you touch the buttons, a real noise comes. And if you press three buttons, or four buttons, one after the other, it is a string of noises that holds together and is a real thing in the air. And then, you see, you have one string of noise like that for each one thing in your head that you want to show to a person. This is what I want to tell you.

I learned, so fast. There is a string of three that is TABLE. A string of three that is CHAIR. That is APPLE. That is FLOWER. That is HEAD. That is EYE. That is HAND. There is a string of three parts that is LARGE-PERSON, and then if you push one more button to make it a string of four parts it is for showing a SMALL-PERSON!

Do you see? Do you hear, do you understand? Or are you broken?

I can know in my head that it is WINDOW, I can push the buttons to make WINDOW, and the person with me will know what was in my head, will go to the window and touch it to show me that we are sharing it.

It is hard for them, though. I don't know why. Perhaps it is a way that they are broken. When I cause the box to make a WORD (that means, a string of noises that is a real thing and holds together), often the person will look at a paper in the hand, that has marks on it. Does the paper tell them what the word is? I don't see how that could be, but if it is not so why do they look?
And very often they make mistakes. But I am so patient. I will wait and I will make my word as many times as it takes, until they understand. Because we are sharing it. Oh magic, oh magic, and more and more magic!

BOOK: The Judas Rose
5.71Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Out of Time by April Sadowski
Legendary Warrior by Donna Fletcher
The Exciting Life by Karen Mason
Shelter in Place by Alexander Maksik
The Woman Who Walked in Sunshine by Alexander McCall Smith
Eternal Flame by Cynthia Eden
The Truth Will Out by Jane Isaac
Midnight Bayou by Nora Roberts