Xus

XI reported to the storehouse level, as xe requested. Among the enormous number of shelves filled with objects held there, XI easily found xer. Xe was being mysteriously opaque about what xe wished to discuss with XI, but XI assumed it was because xe had almost as much of an affinity for artifacts as XI do.

Xe looked up from the miniature globe xe was holding as XI approached, turning it over in xer hands, studying it. Xe and XI had spoken before about how unusual a planet it had been, so unique in its features and arrangement within its system. It had silently circled its star like a fat blue jewel, amid so many planets offering nothing but pale brown blankness... a true treasure. But of course, that was the ultimately the reason it had been necessary to clear it.

"It is beautiful," XI said, breaking the stillness of the overstuffed storehouse. There was no echo from any of its nearly-endless aisles.

"It is," xe said, spinning the globe again in xer hands. "Walking and perusing would be enjoyable," xe invited, gesturing with a graceful antenna toward the infinite shelves and carefully curated stacks. XI nodded in reply. Having reached an understanding, xe put down the globe and stood, joining XI on a walk down a random aisle.

Xe noted something and mentioned it before XI could. "They seemed to have great reverence for these bound documents." It was true; the shelves in this area had a preponderance of packets of rectangular cellulose sheets, imprinted with row upon row of their glyphs, protected with treated animal hide.

"They chose them so carefully," XI said. "In the end, did they really think it would matter?" To XI, every volume looked essentially like any other.

"Consider their position," xe said. "When suddenly faced with the destruction of one's home planet, what should one choose as the singular object that would survive?"

XI had considered this at the time of cleansing, just as all of Xus had. Of course, such an idea was hard to comprehend. "It makes no sense not to choose something of utility," XI said. "Many of them took that option, after all. They were quite an inventive people." XI picked up exhibits from the shelf next to me to demonstrate, one identified as an "egg beater" and a holo-schematic of something called a "hydro-electic dam". "From small, elegant machines, to memorials of elaborate, efficient infrastructures. They had so many of them. But in the end, so many instead chose what they called..." XI momentarily groped for the foreign word, "...Art."

Xe ran xer fingers along the spines of the written works as xer ambulation continued toward the far-distant end of the interminable aisle. "What XI find most fascinating," xe said, "is that so many of these documents are not historical accounts. The scholars who have studied them, enough to understand their language and usage of it, say that it's impossible for them all to be true. Most concern times, entities and places that never existed."

XI am confused. "An account of history that never occurred? What would the purpose of such a thing be? And why would any of them want to save it above all other things?"

A peculiar emotion came across xer face. A long time went by. As further selections of objects drifted past... mostly colored canvases and multiform sculptures, which only occasionally seemed to resemble the real-world subjects they were intended to represent. Xe seemed to draw resolve from their proximity, and finally spoke. "The scholars are beginning to understand that question, too. You must consider the conditions these people lived under.

"Imagine living as they did, on such a gifted world: water and nutrients in abundance, near-infinite diversity of living things, producing an exquisitely balanced ecosystem -- even despite their missteps in its management. But for all this privilege, they were able to experience nothing but the smallest part of it, only what each individual could draw through their own senses. Their sense organs were quite underdeveloped... you only need to look at the narrow color palette they utilized as an example of this."

XI looked along the shelves xe and XI passed, trying to imagine their state of being as xe described. What if XI was unable to feel the emotions of any of Xus at will, or experience through other senses? It was hard to fathom, but by reaching out to xer particular feelings, XI was able to grasp at least a part of what xe was saying. Xe could imagine it more vividly than XI could, so XI took her view.

And such a bleak view it was... Xe was envisioning a world where the only senses were those of XI, where in fact there really was no XI, but instead a true, isolated "I". To be the sole owner of thoughts and feelings that would never be experienced by any other, derived by one meager set of input, with no true communication with any other of Xus, doomed to be forever trapped inside the singular crudeness of the body...

XI backed away from xer shared understanding. "How awful," XI understated, feeling the truth infinitely more deeply. And awful it must have been, for even in the brief emotional glimpse XI received from xer, XI had never felt so alone. It was a tangible relief to feel the companionship of all of Xus flood back into XI when the thought experiment was over. XI felt "XI" falling back into its rightest place, linking back into the vast network of all of Xus that XI had been part of since the moment of birth, and would be until death.

XI took a moment to reacquaint and reassure XI, making sure that all of Xus were still there. XI shifted experiential focus, swept through all the levels of Xus in the span of a few wingbeats, from the scholars that xe had mentioned who studied the doomed planet's artifacts, to the navigators who carried the Colony through the spaces between the stars toward its next destination. XI felt the comfort of each individual presence, the elegantly woven whole of Xus, and felt each reaching back, feeling XI's in response. XI's body immediately relaxed.

XI turned back to xer. "How did they live in this fashion?" XI asked aloud. "How could they, and not despair?"

Xer antennae waved knowingly. "It appears that they did. Despair, that is. Much of the time. In the midst of all that planetary beauty, they often acted in irrational ways, because they did not -- *could* not -- fundamentally understand one another. They could not see themselves as Xus, but as fractured parts called 'I' and 'we' and 'them'."

Although XI was fearful to, XI dipped into xer thoughts once again, wanting deeper comprehension. Xe was drawing xer thoughts into shape, creating a mental analogy, beginning with the way Xus felt about the inhabitants of the now-ruined planet. Xus could not meld with them the way Xus melded with itself, and as a result, those beings were forever remote and unknowable, therefore untrustworthy. Now XI fully explored xer projected feeling of that awful separateness, that sense of sensing the purely *alien* from everyone around XI, all of the time. XI couldn't help but shudder with a chill that was not indicative of the temperature in the storehouse.

XI mentally drew back again, running for the safe haven of the presence of Xus. Xe must have felt it this time, too, because XI sensed a new warmth emanating from xer as xe shared in experiencing the comfort of Xus. XI looked around at the shelves with fresh horror. "No wonder they were so broken," XI said. "Is this inherent irrationality the reason that they chose to save histories that are not histories, representations of objects that are not objects, accounts of people who were never people?"

"XI don't think so," xe said. Xe moved on, leading me. "Come look. XI wish you to observe something as first." Xe moved with purpose, with a clear ending point in mind. XI reached for xer emotions to learn where xe was taking XI, but clearly it was something Xe felt XI needed to experience with XI's primary senses. Out of respect for xer wishes, XI complied, eschewing secondary sensation from xer.

After many turnings and switching of aisles, xe stopped before a sparsely populated shelf. "Observe as first," Xe said, gesturing toward two adjacent objects set there. XI did, and for several long moments could not determine why xe had chosen these objects. One of them was a narrow color-bandwidth visual representation on cloth, depicting a procession of strangely-attired alien figures, arranged between arches above and a covered table below.

"This is a fictional artistic representation of a planetary scene," xe said. "It was created by a painter with identifier 'sal-va-dor-dah-lee'." The meaningless sounds paraded in near-unutterable succession from xer mouth. "The Art-work's identifier is 'Slave Market with the Disappearing Bust of Voltaire'. To the painting's right is a sculpted representation of a nonfictional textual artist."

XI looked back and forth between the two pieces of Art, first the flat colored fabric, then the white chunk of rock in the form of the upper portion of one of the doomed people. All the while I could feel xer looking through XI's eyes, anticipating some spark of recognition... and then it came clear. XI felt a not altogether unpleasant shift inside XI's self-mind, and XI realized that the "painting" had two levels of context. One contained the procession of figures XI had seen initially, but with the shape of the white sculpted figurine freshly imprinted in XI's eyes, XI could see an additional, deeper one... The white spaces left uncolored in the painting outlined a two-dimensional replica of the sculpture!

"It is a hidden representation created by what is called 'negative space'," xe told XI, after giving XI a moment to savor the unexpected visual treat. In response to XI's turning around, searching for more examples of the effect nearby, xe assured, "No, not all of their Art is like that. But is the feeling it evokes understood?"

"Yes," XI said enthusiastically. "It felt like... Xus!" Xe could tell what was meant more from XI's emotional state than words. In that moment of realization concerning the painting's dual nature, XI had felt familiar comfort. It was, in fact, similar to the comfort of XI returning to Xus, after the loneliness xe had evinced when describing the everyday despair of the planetary denizens. XI could clearly see how such a moment of clarity brought on by the Art-work, for a solitary person like those depicted on the canvas, might momentarily, fleetingly, dispel that sense of isolation.

XI understood that this lesson was the reason xe had for summoning XI to the storehouse. Only a moment before, it had seemed to be filled with so many inert objects. Now, a potential for nearly infinite richness and depth presented itself. "Was that the ultimate purpose of their Art?" XI asked xer aloud.

Xe followed XI's thoughts closely. "XI have come to believe so," xe said. "Most of the time, at least, in myriad ways that are not always as obvious, but yes." Xe slid one of the animal-hide documents off a nearby shelf. "Even in these, fictional stories are told that mimic the paths of actual lives, in an attempt to share themselves, in the manner that Xus can with no effort. The results always fell short of that connection, ultimately, but with its sheer volume of attempts, these selections must represent the best they could accomplish."

XI was suddenly in a cavern of wonders. XI's self-mind reeled at the sheer amount of possibility, knowing that any one of these chosen objects could hold a small measure of the momentary joy XI I had found in "Slave Market with the Disappearing Bust of Voltaire".

Then a sudden pang of regret struck XI, when XI realized the people who had created this Art, every piece filling this storehouse, had been summarily destroyed. As part of their decommission ritual, they had each been given the opportunity -- as every sentient race conquered by Xus were given -- to each select one small piece of their world that could become part of this eternal storehouse, each an exhibit in respectful memorial to their civilization. However, the shelves that comprised this storehouse -- unlike the countless other storehouses adjacent to it, representing countless other lost civilizations -- contained evidence that they had at least *tried* to match the perfection of Xus, despite whatever physical limitations they may have had.

This was the reason xe had brought XI here, why xe had not merely let xer own realization propagate as all thoughts did, through all of Xus. This understanding had come to xer by degrees, and xe understood that in order to make Xus take notice, xe needed another to experience it all at once. Xe had chosen XI for that purpose.

XI felt the hopefulness emanating from xer, observed the way her antennae twitched in anticipation. In response, XI leaned forward and allowed the tips of XI's to touch xers -- a strong, respectful gesture of connection and reassurance. Then XI spoke, in order to add to the urgency of the message xe was attempting to draw Xus's attention to.

"When the time came for each of them to choose their artifacts," XI said, "they brought forward *these* particular objects. From the sheer amount of what they called Art, its value to them is clear. To create Art in all its many forms... that was they lived for, the only thing that could take them beyond and outside themselves. It was their Xus."

Xe nodded triumphantly, and XI felt satisfaction that XI had assisted her. XI was already beginning to feel emotional feedback from all others of Xus who were receiving the message at the same time. That feeling was disrupted when xe then asked, "Then XI ask, were Xus correct in destroying them?"

After a long time given to thought, XI answered. "That is a matter to consider. It could be argued that they had to be destroyed. They were imperfect, after all."

"It was not the perfection of Xus," xe said, in slow, measured syllables. "But they may have been progressing toward some other kind of perfection. Is the perfection of Xus the only kind there is? And if not, then how are Xus better than they were? Are we not guilty of the same crime of artificially creating an 'us' and a 'them'?"

XI felt all of Xus, all of its constituent mind-parts, shudder in unison, in horrified revelation.