“We gather from the History that these invaders came from a world whose ancestors we once extracted.”

Memor trembled but did not show it. These unsuspecting types were lurching toward a truth they should never glimpse. She stretched elaborately, looking a bit bored, and said carefully, “Yes. I researched that. They were without speech, had minimal culture, few tool-using skills. Scavengers, mostly, though they could hunt smaller animals in groups, and defend against other scavengers. Those primates, once Adopted, further evolved into game animals. Not particularly good ones, either.”

This at least provoked a rippling laughter. Beneath it ran skittering anxiety in high notes. The Savant persisted, “They do not seem easy to Adopt. They may be angered to see what has become of their ancestors.”

Memor did not let her feathers betray her true reaction. The Savant was right, but for reasons Savants were not privileged to know. Rely on cliché, then. No one remembered them even a moment later. “The essence of Adoption is self-knowledge.”

The Savant nodded slightly, letting the matter pass when an Astronomer so indicated. Clichés, Memor reflected, were the most useful lubricant in conversation. Thus she missed the Savant’s next statement, which was a question—and so soon had to give a summary of what she knew of the aliens. How this could help, she had no idea, but it deflected attention from the real, alarming issue.

She began, “These spacefaring primates have a linear view of life that extends forward and backwards in time. I discovered this while examining their minds while they functioned, and realize that some of what I say may seem implausible. It is not.”

This provoked some tittering in the crowd, but Memor plowed on.

“They are very interested in the beginning of the universe, despite the general uselessness of this information now. Even more oddly, they fix upon the long-term fate of the universe, and have strong views on these matters. Some are even religious! To Astronomers, these are matters subject to many unknowns, too many to lend a sense of urgency to the issue. Yet the Late Invaders feel urgently concerned.”

A Savant asked, “How can that matter?”

“It has sent them out in their tiny, dangerous ship, yes?”

“To answer such vague questions?”

“Not entirely. Their deep drive, which they seldom know consciously, is to expand their horizons.”

“Why? What use can that be?”

“An anxiety fills them, drives them out. I could see it simmering in their Underminds.”

“I doubt such creatures could be Adopted,” the Savant persisted.

“It is our task to enlighten them.” Memor retreated into cliché again. “To erase this hunger for horizons, which evolution dealt them.”

“Do we know their origins?”

Memor disguised her lie with a ruffle-display of purple guilt. “I fear we cannot say yet.” It was truthful, in a way; she could not say.

“I meant, not what planet they are from, but why they have this anxiety?”

Memor had not considered that, and in a moment of guilty truth-telling, said so. Discussion wafted through the audience. She could see the teams who searched for the primates wondering why the discussion was so theoretical, but that was not crucial. The tone of this meeting was, though.

She took command again with, “We suspect they had to flee a hostile territory, and that crisis forced their evolution. Perhaps their numbers became too great for their environment, and the ambitious moved on to fruitful lands. This forced evolution of better tool-making and general, social intelligence.”

Now that she said it, the idea had some appeal. How did the primates get the urge to voyage forth in such frail ships? Because they were born on the move.

A Savant said, “They would flood our lands!”

Memor quieted their murmuring. “We can certainly contain that. We outnumber them by twenty orders of twelve-magnitude.”

Until this moment she had not fully appreciated how strange the aliens were, even though she had seen into their minds. This was the nub of it: They loved novelty, excitement, and motion—even though it might mean death.

Whereas the Folk wisely lived in the perfect conditions for them, precisely to give life a constancy, a gliding sense of time that belied the issues of beginnings and endings. The reward was a place beyond the natural places, a machine for living that spun, as did worlds, and yet did so to maintain the constancy that was the point of the Folk. They froze time for the span of their species and perhaps beyond. Evolution of the Folk of course occurred. But the aim of artifice was to constrain this, maintaining a close watch, so that the Folk could be in their exalted state. Thus they had thrived now through immense long tides of time, a fact well understood by each succeeding generation. The highest function of a species was surely to suspend the rude, blunt blow of happenstance, and control their own destiny. The Astronomers governed not just the relations between the Bowl and the heavens, but the Bowl Lifeshaping as well.

She thought on this, all the while letting the comments and open disputes work themselves through the assembly. When it had played out, she said with due gravity, “The primates may know some of our history—but it is so vast! They cannot comprehend it.”

This brought applause. The Adopted held as a matter of faith and history that the Bowl’s serene constancy was the goal of all wise life. So did all the intellectual classes—Savants, Profounds, and Keepers. So what if primates knew a tiny fraction of the Saga?

Of course, her true mission here was to damp their fears. She reminded the audience of their resources, and let members of the search teams tell of their glancing contacts with the primates. None from the party who had lost their magcar, because the primates had killed them all. She mentioned this, to set the stage.

Now they would rehearse the enveloping movement planned to ensnare the roving primate band, the one that had found what they called the Field of History, which Astronomers termed the Past Worlds. A distant team would carry forward that hunt.

Memor asked, “So much for abstractions. I am here to direct your hunt for those who have already killed some of the Folk. I gather you recorded their entry at a Conveyance Station?”

Some of the Adopted nodded eagerly. “Yes, Astronomer! We have the sky creatures ready to depart.”

“Most excellent. A long while has lapsed since I experienced the thrill of running down dangerous prey. Let us take to the air, then.”

Nothing would get in their way now, since they had the primates located to a region. When captured, she forbade any questioning of them. A few chance remarks could wreck entire established structures of Bowl society. She could take no chance that anyone should come to know of the Great Shame.

FORTY-FIVE

The alien regarded them with its large eyes and made a curious squatting motion, its sinewy arms held out to the sides. With the large pancake hands and thick fingers, it formed a twisting architecture in the air. Its name was Quert, its Folk the Sil. Its graceful form moved restlessly, pacing among the odd chairs where the humans sat and ate. The train was moving fast now, and the staccato snick-snick-snick of the electromagnetic handoffs propelling it forward rang constantly in the background.

Quite deliberately it said, “Bon voyage. Buon viaggio. Gute Reise. Buen viaje. Viagem boa. Goede reis. Ha en bra resa. God tur. Bonum iter.

Silence. They all looked at one another.

Irma said brightly, “Those are words for parting. We are joining.”

“Misalignment?” the alien said. “Then—” And silky words came from it, good-bye in several human languages.