Page 56 of The Enduring Universe
No wonder there was such hate and fear of excision in architect circles. When Iravan had told her long ago that Ecstatics would not be recognized as humans by other councils in the Conclave, he had not spoken out of simple fear. He’d understood the mechanics of it, of the fate that awaited each Ecstatic. This is why he and Bharavi had made a pact. Why the ashrams had preserved their excised architects within a secret sanctum, away from the rest of their society. Why they kept the truth about what happened to an excised architect such a mystery, even going as far as to make architects have children before revealing its secret to their spouses. All citizens revered their core tree, architects more than others. These were actions borne of guilt—each lie piling atop the other until all of it crashed to the jungle.
Did the others really expect her to do this to the Virohi?
The heartpoison bracelet around her wrist prickled in premonition. Ahilya pushed the book back into Basav’s hands. “I am not an architect,” she said, her throat thick. “I cannot excise using constellation lines.”
“The constellation lines are secondary,” Basav replied, scowling. “You do not need them. You are connected to the vriksh. It is amatter of will, and a simple technique of visualization—an act of severance. Call the Virohi to you. Convince them to stay with you, close enough to feel them. Then sever them from the vriksh, cutting them away from everything. Then, we can finally be rid of the cosmic creatures.”
“No,” Ahilya said. “Please, don’t do this. You know how cruel it is. You’ve seen what happens to excised architects.”
Basav frowned at her. “Are you refusing the council? Are you placing these creatures above humanity itself, even after what I told you about overwriting?”
Ahilya shook her head, backpedaling. “No,” she said hurriedly. “No, I just meant I—I won’t be able to do this—you expect too much of me—I can’t—I don’t have that kind of control—”
“Try it,” Chaiyya urged. “Try to call them, right now. You already know how. Let’s find out here and now.”
She could not say no. Even as Chaiyya commanded her, the fuzzy darkness of the Virohi hummed in Ahilya’s mind, and she imagined the cosmic creatures like the singular entity she had seen before. Particles flaked to her, forming a body in her own shape. The Virohi swarmed in front of her, huddling again, their fuzzed dark head buried into their hands, sobbing. She imagined an axe. It appeared in her hands, a sharp thing made of wood and mistakes.
Ahilya knew this was not real, that this was a visualization—but the Etherium was a realm of personal perceptions. Compelled by the looks of the councilors, she approached the shadow-figure, and caught by her will, or perhaps simply trusting her, the Virohi did not move. Their body jerked in silent shudders, their cries silent yet echoing in the Etherium, as she placed the blade by their neck.
Ahilya felt its cold glint on her skin.
The axe dropped from her hands, disappearing. Her mind blanked in terror. She backed away, and the fuzzy form of the Virohi disappeared, back into a buzzing hive that flitted away into the forest.
In the infirmary, she clutched her head in a posture eerily reminiscent of the Virohi themselves, breathing hard. The others stared at her.
Genocide, again. Was she going mad? How was it possible that only she could think such a thing abominable? Were they right after all—was it always a question ofusorthem? Perhaps it was the natural law of life, predator or prey, the only way to survive. But she had lived with the consequences of that thinking all her life. Architects had chosen to erase non-architects in similar calculations. They’d chosen to other their own. When you considered a sentient race as disposable prey, where did that leave you?
“Would that not hurt us too?” she asked. “If the Virohi have already become a part of us, destroying them would destroy parts of us all.”
“What choice do we have?” Basav said. “We cannot let the entire plant die for want of saving a branch. We will have to prune. That is what it means to be a councilor. Architects have always known this.”
“Perhaps such pruning will take parts of ourselves away,” Airav said. “But it will be worth it. You know what we are up against.”
“This is the same thing the Virohi thought,” Ahilya said. “When they split in the first place, they thought they would be all right, despite losing parts of themselves. Now you would do that too—lose what you have by destroying the Virohi.”
“We must strike first, before the Virohi evolve and strike us,” Basav retorted. “You think we came to this decision easily? We understand that we might experience some loss. Perhaps in cutting them away, you will take away crucial memories of our lives.” Hishands tightened over the books, and she thought of the loss he had already experienced. “We have no choice,” Basav said again. “This is the only way.”
Ahilya shook her head, trying to deny him. Basav had described excision as similar to subsummation, but the architects understood subsummation as erasure—that was how they had attacked and overtaken offending ashrams.
Ahilya hadseensubsummation occur. She had seen what absorbing the falcon-yaksha had done to Iravan. It had not erased the falcon; the yaksha had merely become a part of Iravan, indistinguishable from her husband, bleeding its rage and memory into him. What if that occurred with the Virohi too? Humanity would still look and feel human-like, but echoes of the Virohi would remain within them. None of them would be as they were, and the Virohi would be destroyed fruitlessly. Even if she excised the cosmic creatures, what remained of humanity’s survivors would be human no longer. Such an act, in and of itself, would be human no longer.
The council of Irshar would not see it this way, but such a thing would be a kind of overwriting too. There would be no return from such violence, and it would hurt the citizens as well, a corruption worse than the one she endured for it would be more subtle. She had once thought to strike in violence at architects too. Look where she was now, operating just like them.
If she did this, which of her memories would die? Ahilya saw herself separated from the knowledge of Tariya or Bharavi or Iravan, even the pain she had felt at their hands and through their actions. Would she trade it? If bad memories were all she had of them, those was still hers to keep. She was an archeologist, yet here they were asking her to cut away—erase—part of their history. Who would they become?
But perhaps this is what we need, she thought.To become somethingelse. Someone else.It was a dangerous thought, and she shook her head, unable to articulate all this to the councilors.
“I don’t think the Virohi were overwriting us simply because they could,” she said desperately. “I think they were attempting to flee something.”
The three of them studied her with mixed expressions of pity and disbelief.
“It doesn’t matter—” Basav began.
“It does,” she said. “It really does. Iravan’s war on them—the bomb he exploded—hurt them, and they’ve changed since then. They’ve evolved in ways we are not acknowledging while they became part of the tree. I saw them grieving, weeping, and I think it is worthwhile to examine why.”
Without waiting for them to reply, Ahilya threw the covers off her, and staggered to her feet. For a second, she swayed, unsteady, but before any of the others could reach her, she took a few wobbly steps forward, reaching for her clothes, shedding the gown she had been given.
Airav and Basav averted their gazes, but Chaiyya stared at Ahilya, eyebrows raised.
