72.2 \ 254

“How’s the stability of the temporary alteration to the torrential slip field?” Arjun directed this to Bux, who had designed the hydromolecular mechanics of tensile grip and torrential slip.

“It’s more or less as unstable as it should be. What we’ve designed is a sustained semi-stable instability factor – a disturbance within the turbulence. It has selective permeability to specific force oppositions that will maintain field integrity while creating shifting hydrointeractive microhole surfaces that extend our effective wavelengths by transforming them for the medium.” Bux descended from his rapture state of envisioning ideal function. He ran a hand down the front of his tab-collar laboratory robe. “We’ll only activate this altered fieldstate for the Symphony.”

“I don’t think it will sound very much like your usual symphony,” meditated Arjun quietly.

“This could have taken someone a year, but with our dream team and dream budget under high stress – well, we just zipped it right up. I would not have demanded this of others under normal circumstances, but the challenge was met. We’re ready if you are, my brother.” Buckminster then addressed Onk, who’d walked ahead of their pace to the next installation cluster. “Leryn, is your crew ready to manage the divided/controlled surge to the amplifiers and field?”

“We’ll still be able to draw from the hydroelectric generation of the torrential slip field. If we decide to use maximum application, we’re prepared to darken most of the building. We can only do this once in a day, and make it to the next day, or to the surface. We’re as ready as we can be.” A round of suppressed excited nervous chuckles overtook them all briefly.

72.1 \ 254

From where they were inside the Service Hallway, they couldn’t see the curve in the far distance, through the medium-dim light friendly to the technologies exposed here. Buckminster Woollibee and Arjun Woollibee – along with their lever-pulling electrical engineer Leryn Onk – were reviewing the modification setup that was now installed along the entire hairpin length of the Arch. They’d been figuring this out and setting it up for a little while now, since the discovery that a central key to their experiments lay within the sonic spectrum; fine tuning the largest possible and highest-energy-allowance sound system that could project and respond at various levels, and ideally interface positively with the surrounding aqueous molecular matrix.

“Do you remember when we first hearkened to Arctyri, when the Councillor and General were here in their official capacities? A lot has happened since, I know, and now both of them are actually back without their titles, arrived separately. But you remember the cold current we set up, unbroken from room to room, using every unusual air regulation device?” Arjun tapped a pen against his forehead while he asked this.

“Yes,” replied his twin Bux, “it was very convoluted. We were caught up in the moment.”

“Maybe we could have done it in here.” Indicated with an upraised hand, the continuity of this connecting space was unquestionable.

“Possibly. Though it may not have been as interesting. Being interesting could be a factor when attempting to call up a Dragon.”

“You may be onto something there,” acknowledged Arjun, using words they’d been tossing to each other since they could first work on a puzzle together. Meanwhile, Onk was stepping aside to gently fondle every newly-wired bank of sensors and emitters, for yet another once-over.

71.2 \ 253

[ from a notebook, cont’d ]

I’m not the only one. All over the place, vehicles are ready, bags are packed. Supplies are the most popular care gift; sometimes they come in cute wrapping.

Some doing the most communication came out of the hospital from the Hirylien Affliction. They seem motivated. Without saying why, people just listen closely to them. Their perspective is crucial every time they offer it.

People are rewriting recent history, coming up with versions that carry the weight of greater truth. They’ve worked with clues deduced from image sequences in signal windows. People are putting this together themselves, from research sought by besieged yet logical minds. People who want to solve the puzzle in order to leave the box. If we figure it out, maybe we can do this right, and not die. Study group is cool again.

The lucky heirlooms. People swear everything works together a little better when we kiss an heirloom, usually after making sure everybody knows its story. Every heirloom off a tower has its own story, and people tell it like they’re getting something off their chest. Doesn’t matter if it sounds crazy or nutty, they tell it, we kiss it, and everyone gets home safe, as if we’re getting the intel. We find what we’re looking for, arrive at the right times. The folk who returned our things – meddlesome or helpful likely depends, but the magic of these totemic souvenirs continues to come in handy. Hasn’t faded yet.

We know this is happening in every federet capital, plus more planetary capitals. Something’s going to happen. But where? Something is happening, everywhere. Except in my mother’s backyard.

71.1 \ 253

[ from a notebook ]

The government has turned into a regime. People are getting sick of this, mostly and especially us, the ones in population-concentrated signal lockdown areas. There exists the slowly but surely dawning realization that this is the returning cycle of problems caused by our own authorities. We’re the ones to suffer, and the way it seems now, they’re more likely to prevent a solution than to create one.

There’s a grim operational silence in the vacuum created by our drastically lowered levels of communication. It’s suspicious, significant of times when the real activity is the in the shadows. What new form of iron grip is encircling the people? When responsible parties are prodded, they give the guilty form of an answer.

People respond in the ways they must respond. I am. I’m in active contact with all my exit strategies. I’m half-packed now, always. We explain movement patterns to each other, noises, signals, waypoint stations. Without having to say too much: always welcome, anytime, whatever you need, knock holler or break a window. That kind of generosity becomes more prevalent when people think they might need it.

70.2 \ 252

Everyone connected to these Groves had felt the returning presence of the Symbias more or less instantly. They rose up; they stirred; they got out of bed. Each new tree was like a beacon of hope. Barely-lost memories of deep heritage resurfaced. The Aquarii focused on figuring out how to nurture and protect the returned Symbias.

They were in the rise-and-fall portion of this Octave, when convictions and questions were spoken together loudly, then quietly and responsively considered in round after round. People received frequencies according to their inclination. Curiosity turned them to their topics, trading responses and switching interests using intentional tuning.

“We do not know these workings.
“They have brought back our friends.
“Our family –
“They are real and true!
“It knows our secret song. It remembers me.
“Still knows the name I gave it.
“The same voice.
“We felt death –
“But what is death?
“Plants are wonderful.
“Symbias are special among plants.
“All plants are special!
“I am loved, and love again.

“What do we do?
“We have to defend them.
“The Symbias –
“The Vedani?
“We have to work with them.
“The destroyers?
“The bringers –
“Vedani.
“They learned something we didn’t know.
“They have another, different relationship.
“Is it deeper?
“Is it more true?
“It is something else.
“And now it’s part of our relationship.

“The Symbias spoke with them –
“Showed them into our Groves.
“We have to listen.
“We have to speak with Vedani, learn and share with them.
“This is our mandate, no question.
“This is a turning point.
“For our people!
“We have never before known other sentient Symbias-kin.