“Oh, yeah?” I sat down and poured myself a cup of coffee.
She nodded. “They have seen lizards in the lake. Big ones. Half a dozen so far—keeping to the shallow water close to shore.”
I paused, my hand halfway to the milk. “Oh-oh.”
“They are putting up new spotlights and making sure that everything that smells like food is burned.”
“I thought they were doing that before.”
“Only with material from the ship. Organic matter from the planet was being buried.”
The remains of Marina’s specimens.
Agopian ate a piece of bacon. “No one is going swimming.”
“Here?”
“No. At the camp.”
“What happened to your finger?” asked Eddie.
I told them about the flower.
Eddie shook his head. “We keep thinking this planet is like Earth. I think—if we stay—we’re going to be surprised over and over, not always pleasantly.”
“Maybe. I ran into Nia up on the bluff. She said we’re supposed to go into the village late this afternoon. Angai has made a decision. Don’t ask me what it is. Nia didn’t even want to guess.”
I ate breakfast, then went for a swim. Afterward I put on jeans and a red silk shirt.
We had silkworms on the ship, of course, and a garden full of mulberry trees. But the shirt had been made on Earth. There was a union label in the back of the collar. “Shanghai Textile Workers,” it said. Next to the writing was a person—I couldn’t tell the sex—riding on the back of a flying crane. Robes flew out behind the person, and he or she held a spindle. Behind the crane was a five-pointed star.
The person on the crane was almost certainly a Daoist immortal, and the five-pointed star was an emblem of the revolution. The shirt felt wonderful against my skin.
It was a bad day: still and hot. Everyone was restless. Eddie and Derek and I worked on reports. Tatiana and Agopian ran checks on equipment. Ivanova paced from boat to boat. Only Mr. Fang seemed calm. I went over to his boat after lunch. He sat on the deck. There was a chessboard in front of him. Next to the board was a pot of tea.
“If you are looking for Yunqi, she has gone for a swim, leaving herself in a really terrible position. I can see no way out for her.” He waved at the pieces on the board.
“They’re driving me crazy over there. I’m driving me crazy.”
“Master Lao tells us that heaviness is the foundation of lightness, and stillness is the lord of action.”
“What?”
“Lenin tells us that a revolutionary needs two things: patience and a sense of irony.” He looked up and smiled. “Get yourself a cup, Lixia. I will set up the board again. We will drink tea and play chess and not worry about problems which are outside our control.”
“Are you being wise?”
“Not especially.”
“Good. I’m in no mood for wisdom.”
I went and got a cup. We played chess. He beat me.
Yunqi came back, wearing a swimsuit. It was single-piece and solid blue. Her short black hair was dripping wet. Her eyes had the out-of-focus look of severe myopia.
“Why don’t you wear contacts?” I asked.
“I like the way I look in glasses.” She put them on: two plain clear lenses in plain round metal frames.
“Yunqi is like Comrade Agopian,” said Mr. Fang. “A romantic. She likes glasses with the look of the early twentieth century. That was the age of heroes. Luxemburg. Lenin. Trotsky. Mao and Zhou.”
“I thought you didn’t like politics,” I said.
She blushed. “I don’t like endless talking—especially when people get angry. But I have always enjoyed stories of the Long March and Comrade Trotsky on the armored train.”
“She likes war,” said Mr. Fang. “As an idea. Do you want to play another game of chess?”
I said, “Okay.”
I lost again. Mr. Fang said, “It’s time to go.”
The people from the other boat met us on the traiclass="underline" Derek, Eddie, Ivanova, Agopian. We climbed the bluff together.
It was hot and windy on the plain. In the village awnings flapped.
Standards jingled. Campfires danced. A tiny quadruped bounded down the street in front of us. It was the size of a dik-dik, with little curved horns. Its fur was dark green. It wore a collar made of leather and brass.
“What is it?” asked Eddie.
I made the gesture of ignorance.
Derek said, “We don’t know.”
We reached the town square. Once again it was full of people—at least the edges. The center of the square was a heap of ashes.
Angai waited for us in front of her tent. She wore a robe of dark blue fabric with no embroidery. Her belt was made of links of gold, interwoven like chain mail. The buckle was huge: a gold biped, folded back on itself. The neck was twisted. The head touched the rump. The long tail curled around the entire body. The animal’s eye was a dark red stone.
Nia and the oracle stood with her.
The crowd murmured around us. Angai held up a hand. There was silence, except for the chiming of metal and the rush of the wind.
“I’ve talked to various people,” Angai said loudly. “The old women who have learned much in their lives. The old men who have traveled far and are certainly not foolish. I have talked with Nia and the Voice of the Waterfall, who know these hairless people. I have gone in my tent alone and consulted with the spirits, inhaling the smoke of dreams.
“After listening to everything and thinking, I have come to a decision.
“I bring it to you, o people of the village. You are the ones who must approve or disapprove.
“But remember, if you disapprove, you are going against me and the spirits and the elders of the village.”
She paused and gestured toward us. Derek translated.
Ivanova said, “A smart woman. It won’t be easy to vote her down.”
Angai went on. “If you want to know what the old people said, ask them. I will tell you what the spirits told me. But I want Nia and the oracle to speak for themselves.”
“Why?” asked a voice.
Angai made the gesture that demanded silence. “I asked Nia her opinion, because she traveled a long distance with two of the hairless people. She has seen the town that they have built next to the Long Lake. She has ridden on one of their boats.”
“So has Anasu!” a child cried.
“Be quiet,” said a woman.
Angai went on. “Only a fool—only a worthless woman—refuses to ask for information from those who know.
“As for the oracle, he also has traveled with these people, and he is holy. A spirit has given him advice.”
She paused. Derek translated. Nia spoke.
“Angai asked me if these people are reliable. I said yes. So far as I know. But there are many of them, and they have differences of opinion. I have heard them argue.
“I think we can trust them. I think we can believe what they say. But I do not know for certain.
“She asked if they will do harm to the Iron People. They are not crazy. They will not harm us intentionally. But they are very different. If we make them welcome, they will change the way we see the world. They have done that to me.
“That is disturbing. Maybe it is harmful. I do not know.”
Nia paused. Derek translated. She went on. “I don’t think they will vanish. They are not a mirage. They are here and solid. If we send them off, they will go to other villages. Someone on the plain will make them welcome. I do not think there is a way to drive them out of the world. Maybe if everyone got together, it could be done. But that will not happen, and I don’t know if it ought to happen. Change is not always bad. There was a time when nothing existed. Spirits appeared out of the nothing. They made the world and everything in it. Most of us think this was a change for the good.