Hmm…

The Shaddill Spread More Bounty

At the end of twenty years, the Shaddill left the Divian homeworld, never to return. Presumably, they went to help other races on the verge of space travel — because according to Lajoolie, Cultural Improvement was the Shaddill’s chief occupation. In the same way they uplifted the Divians, the Shaddill had visited many other species throughout the galaxy… including Homo sapiens, which is how the human Technocracy got its start four hundred years ago.

My friend Festina had told me that story: how aliens visited Old Earth in the twenty-first century. And she claimed the same aliens had approached some portion of the human race one other time before, in a year she called 2000 B.C. Way back then, the aliens scooped up humans and carried them off to the planet Melaquin… where those humans became my ancient ancestors. The gifts the Shaddill gave my forebears were pleasant underground cities that supplied all their needs, and virtual immortality for their children which is to say, the children were engineered to be beautiful, clever creatures of indestructible glass.

Like me.

Beware Of Aliens Bearing Gifts

Lajoolie told me that "Shaddill" was a name invented by Divians, meaning "Our Mentors." The Shaddill themselves never used any special title, preferring just to call themselves "citizens of the League of Peoples" — telling everyone they were good and noble envoys, bringing happy enlightenment to lesser species out of pure gracious generosity.

Hah! I thought. These supposedly nice Shaddill shot us with a Sinister Unconsciousness Ray. They chased Starbiter most mercilessly. They had lied to the Divians about what a Zarett could do, and perhaps they had run from the human navy, like thieves fleeing the scene of a crime. Above all, they had placed a most terrible curse on my people… and our Ancestral Towers were full of the comatose results.

Of course, Tired Brains were supposed to be a lamentable accident due to unforeseen genetic complications. The more I heard about the Shaddill, however, the less I believed in their beneficence.

I said as much to Lajoolie. "These Shaddill are not so kindly as you think. They did you a great disservice."

The big woman did not answer. She pensively chewed her Zarett meat.

"Did they not unbalance your homeworld?" I asked. "Did they not deliberately drive a wedge between those who stayed loyal to their planet and those who were cut off from their roots by leaving home? Why, for example, did the Shaddill only give YouthBoost to those who agreed to leave? Should they not give it to all Divians, so everyone could live a longer life? Is it not wicked to let many die young, if they could be saved?"

Lajoolie finally swallowed her mouthful. "Not according to the League of Peoples. The League doesn’t require you to take extraordinary measures to save a creature who’s reached the end of its spin. The League’s version of sentience is all about your own actions — you’re forbidden to do something that would hasten another sentient’s demise, either through direct action or carelessness… but you aren’t obliged to lift a finger if someone’s dying for reasons unrelated to you." She shrugged. "It can be a tricky call. Suppose right now I start choking on my food. Are you justified in letting me the because it’s my own fault for trying to eat and talk: at the same time? Or do you deserve some blame because I wouldn’t be talking if you weren’t here?"

"It does not matter who is to blame. If you start to choke, I shall squeeze you hard about the middle to make you cough up the blockage. Civilized persons help one another."

Lajoolie smiled. "Thank you… but that’s not required by League law. If you don’t cause my predicament, you don’t have to save me. Which is why the Shaddill weren’t obliged to offer YouthBoost to the people who stayed on our homeworld. It isn’t the Shaddill’s fault that Divians get old and the at a certain age; therefore the Shaddill didn’t have to give YouthBoost to anyone."

"But they did give it to you. For unknown reasons of their own. Your ancestors were very foolish if no one asked, Why are these aliens so generous?"

"Of course they asked. The Shaddill only answered, It’s our way." The big woman stared broodingly at her food. "A lot of people assumed the Shaddill simply believed in helping others. Religious altruism.

Cynics preferred to think it was a status thing: the Shaddill made themselves feel important by tossing handouts to others.

"Of course," Lajoolie continued, "there’s always the chance the Shaddill were motivated by thought processes too alien for us to understand. We Divians and humans spend so much time together, we forget we’re rarities in the universe: intelligent species who are physically, mentally, and socially similar. We have comparable biological needs, we share the same range of emotions… but most other races have much less in common. Aliens aren’t always motivated by desires we can comprehend."

"I comprehend the Shaddill perfectly," I said. "They are villainous tempters who enjoy disrupting the lives of others: the type of people who come from the sky, fill your head with talk of Wondrous Science, and make you think you are respected… then they toy with you and laugh behind your back that you are a foolish savage. The presents they give are not nearly so fine as you first believe. Either the gifts turn out to be there trinkets, or they are secretly intended to make you weak and dependent." My face had suddenly become hot, and my eyes all stinging and watery. "Even if such tempters are not outright villains, they still want you to change, to be like them. They want you ashamed of what you are, and afraid of saying the tiniest thing for fear it will prove you are ignorant."

Lajoolie stared at me a long moment, then lowered her gaze. "You’re really talking about the Technocracy, aren’t you? I’ve read the report of what happened on Melaquin. What the Explorers did to you. But those were mere humans, one of whom went murderously insane. The Shaddill are very different — more highly evolved, and really, truly benevolent. They aren’t just well-meaning idiots who bungle their attempts to help; they’ve shown themselves to be decent, caring, non-exploitive—"

"We’ve got company!" The shout came from the wall, but the voice was Uclod’s. Apparently, Starbiter had ways for someone to project sounds through the tissues surrounding us. "Back to the bridge," Uclod yelled, "on the double!"

Lajoolie threw her bowl onto the counter and was out the door in a split-second. She moved very fast; I could barely keep up with her as she bounded through the bronchial tubes. Without slowing, she called, "Husband, do you know who it is?"

"Shaddill," the walls answered in Uclod’s voice. "Bloody bastards still want a piece of us."

I tried to say, "I told you so." But we were running so fast, the words came out as there gasps.