Lessons for Leading Change

The Gatebuilder’s Trial

by Gordon Rowland

copyright 2009 Gordon Rowland

Contents Note from the author About the author Note on pronunciation Prelude 1. The Prison Box Build from common ground 2. Systemi City Stay open 3. Natursys Wood Everything relates 4. The Sound Engine People aren’t machines 5. The Clover Field First make it in your mind 6. The Factory Ground it in users’ experience 7. Jood Learn to see things differently 8. Devel Gorge Wake up your power to make 9. Breaking Through Create your self 10. The Next Leap Create with others, not for them Appendix Places and things People

Note from the author The story ahead is an allegory, that is, a work of fiction filled with metaphors. In it I tell the tale of a “gatebuilder” who helps people create openings to new futures. In our world we would call this person a leader of change. We would find him or her working with and within organizations to help create new opportunities, shape organizational culture or image, develop innovative processes, and so on. Each of the gatebuilder’s adventures thus has meaning for a leader of change and provides a lesson that is made explicit in the chapter subtitle.

The lessons come from systems design, a field that I believe has much to offer us in the coming decades. A system is a whole made up of interdependent parts, and design means to create something new that has practical utility. Therefore, systems design refers to thinking in terms of wholes and interdependencies as one creates. In this book I am most concerned with social systems, for example, organizations and other social institutions, so the lessons are about creating for human groups. I have attempted to capture basic principles from the past 50 years of work in the field and to express them in a form that instructs yet is enjoyable. I hope you find as much pleasure in reading the book as I did in writing it. Ithaca, New York 2009

About the author Gordon Rowland is Professor of Communications in the Roy H. Park School of Communications at Ithaca College. He is author of four books and over forty book chapters and articles. His teaching and research focus on organizational change, social systems design, and human performance improvement. He may be contacted at rowland@ithaca.edu or (607) 274-1031.

Note on pronunciation

Capital letters that appear within words, or at the beginning and are followed by a consonant, are pronounced as you would individual letters. For example, the N in Nquiry is pronounced “en” and the U in CeeU is pronounced “you.”

Devel Gorge

Natursys

GageRiver

Fiebak

Klasrum

NtropyBay

NviroSea

DyvrEdge Opin

Bay

BoundRE Ice

KhanvrEdge

ClowsBay

NquiryOcean

ValU

Gensys Desert

SystemiCity

Graf

Rkit

Ndus

NteriorDinamkRidge

L-urn

Ntract

KuplingFiebakRiver

Lessons for Leading Change The Gatebuilder’s Trial

Gate — a design; an opening to a new future; a symbol or

marker of passage from the present to a desired or desirable future; a term sometimes used colloquially, and often inappropriately, to mean “solution.”

Gatebuilder — a designer; one who helps individuals or groups

build gates, see and understand their situations, and create new futures for themselves.

Demiourgos, GN 740,

The New Gatebuilding Guild Dictionary

Chapter 1. The Prison Box Build from common ground

“But Mistress Gatebuilder Demiou, she doesn’t listen. We were

trying to build a new gate, and every time I gave her the next step she put the stones in the wrong place.”

“Xenoth, you spoke the correct words, but building a gate together requires communication. You see, communicating is much more than speaking words. It is sharing meaning, and our meanings come from our experiences. So before we can act together, we need to appreciate each other’s experiences.”

“So we have to build one thing to be able to build something else?”

Xenoth awoke with a start to the sound of his door giving way and knew instantly that the goons had finally arrived. Why did they need to do this in the middle of the night? Would anyone be surprised at his ‘vanishing’? He had said his good-byes over a month ago. Friends had even given a farewell feast in his honor. Perhaps it was for the best though. His friends might put up a fight and get hurt if they knew he was being taken. It was better to simply go along. After all, he knew the cost when he wrote the manifesto. He would be held in prison and given a public trial. It didn’t even matter what crimes they named. Conviction was certain. If the judge were lenient he would be executed quickly, but that was doubtful. The manifesto was simply too strong and would

be read by too many people. They would need to make an example of him. They would let him die slowly and ‘naturally,’ the thought of which made him shudder. He had seen his last rejuv, and it might take a decade or more for his cells to give out. Now it began. The goons burst through the door into his bedchamber. He could see the green glow of their visors in the darkness as they moved to his sleep tube and pressed the release. He remained still as the nearest goon did his work. He felt the mask come over his face and wondered why that was necessary. He wouldn’t scream out. And he knew where they would take him, so the effort to hide the path was wasted. Unconsciousness came quickly as the gas took effect. Then nothing.

Awakening without a sense of how much time had passed, Xenoth could feel the goons holding him from behind, their rough gloves cutting into his arms. As the effects of the gas wore off he recognized the entry slit of a prison box in front of him. A decade ago when they had first noticed his behavior they had shown him such a box. Deep inside he had known that it was only a matter of time. His fate had been sealed with the first thought of dissent. The goon to his right leaned close to his ear and whispered “You’ll be tried when you’re together.” But before he had a chance to ask what that meant, they thrust him through the slit. He tumbled across the floor, and even before regaining his feet, he began to wonder where and when he would find himself. He knew that it would be from his past as that was all these boxes could create. It was the torture of the box that he would be cut off from the future. The box would continuously recreate and force him to

relive past events exactly as they had occurred. An entirely true story told again and again. But at least it would be his own story and he might find comfort in reliving his more pleasant experiences. Maybe he could even revive old friendships. But there was only darkness. He wondered if it would take the box some time to study his memories and match his senses. But after only a few moments something about the box seemed familiar. He stood and turned back and forth reaching out carefully to find a wall or any other objects that might be in the way. In another breath he realized that it was the smell that was familiar. What was it? “Unnngh,” he groaned as he recognized the scent of machines and melting grease. A factory on Klasrum. Not a pleasant memory at all. An image came gradually, but remained unfocused. It was like staring at a blurred photo. Everything was right in general, but wrong in detail. Actually it seemed that there were no details. Then a voice hit him like a thunderclap. “Hey you!” Xenoth jumped back, quickly hitting a wall and feeling there was no where to go. “Get out of my box!” the voice said. For a moment Xenoth thought that the crats were sending directly into his mind, but then a figure moved, and he realized that he wasn’t alone. First an outline, then a few details, then as clear an image as the dark box would allow. It was a man way past rejuv, in dressings so tattered and faded that it was hard to tell where they began and the man’s long hair and beard ended. He sat hunched over on what looked

like a big rock, his hands planted on his knees. But the rock seemed to move with him. “I .. I’m sorry. This is where they put me,” Xenoth said, thinking that the goons had accidentally put two people in the same box. “Well they screwed up. Now get out of my box you no good . . .” “Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you. Obviously there’s been a mistake. I’ll call a crat and uh . .” he said, turning to find the slit through which he’d been thrown. There was no slit, at least none that he could see. There was nothing to see in any direction but the man and the strange unfocused world around him. “Get out I tell you,” shouted the old man. “I’d like to very much. If you tell me how, I’ll do so.” “Just back through the slit you idiot . . . oh no.” The old man’s voice trailed off as he pointed to the space where the slit had apparently been. It was gone. “Now they’ve done it. My peace is gone. Dag,” said the old man dejectedly. Xenoth stared at the old man, trying to make out the features hidden by the beard and the hair hanging across his face. He glanced to where the man had pointed, then back again. “I’m sorry,” he said knowing that it wasn’t his fault but recognizing that he was now an intrusion in the old man’s world. “Well, you got everything out of focus on me,” said the old man. “It’s out of focus for me too. Are we seeing the same thing?”

“Least it’s not blank anyway,” said the man, ignoring Xenoth’s question. “You’ve been to the factories so we got that much in common. It’s a stone we can work from.” “A stone?” “Yeh. A stepping stone for us to leap from.” “Oh.” Having shared with friends now and again, Xenoth knew what the old man meant. The appearance of the factory meant that they had both been there at some time and, therefore, the box was able to create a world they both knew. Otherwise they would be in complete darkness, the box’s version of nothingness. But the timeplace of their visits must have been different causing the world to remain out of focus. They would have to build from what they had, one stone, one idea that is, at a time. “And they just re-supplied, so they won’t be back for at least a week. Stuck with a fuzzy world and a nitwit for a week. Chees dag!” said the old man. “Sir, I know I’ve intruded, but it’s not my fault. I didn’t come here by choice,” said Xenoth, stepping forward with his palms raised. “Right. And I’m in a box because I’m innocent too. Save it for the judge.” Well, a bitter old man for a week. There was nothing Xenoth could think to say that would help, so he looked away and reached to touch the wall. It could be worse he supposed. Maybe he could find a corner and stay out of the old man’s way as much as possible.

“Name’s Pax,” the old man mumbled. “Least it was until you got here.” Xenoth looked back and realized that the old man had just introduced himself. The factory image was still vague, but the two men were able to see each other more clearly. “And my name is Xenoth.” The old man’s face flashed recognition, and perhaps fear. His eyes widened as he mumbled the literal translation of Xenoth’s name “one who changes.” He had obviously heard the name before, but either was unsure of where and when or didn’t want to show it. After a long pause, Pax pointed down to what had looked like a rock that he sat upon. He said, “This is Kith.” The rock raised its head to glare at Xenoth for a moment then returned to its nap. It was a rocat not unlike one Xenoth had raised years ago. It had even been given the same name as his, but it was, after all, a common name. “Greetings Pax. And greetings Kith,” he said. The old man and the rocat grunted simultaneously “Rrrmmm.” At the sound of their grunt, the world seemed to come into a better focus but only for a split second. Something had apparently triggered a shared memory between them. “Well, at least it looks like we’ll be able to share.” said Pax. “Yes but how?” asked Xenoth to himself.

“If we’re gonna be here for a week or more, we’ve got to get some focus. Or would you rather stay in blurry Klasrum?” Pax said, annoyed at Xenoth’s apparent inexperience. “Well of course . . . I agree,” said Xenoth, trying not to argue. If they could find shared memory the image would come into focus. “But I have to tell you that I was in the factory briefly as a boy. It’s been centuries so I’m not sure how well I can remember,” said Xenoth. Images of a factory began to take clearer shape around them. “The factory? I don’t want to spend a week on Klasrum. Yuk!” cried Pax. And the images blurred. “Well, what’s the alternative?” asked Xenoth “We got to find some other timeplace we’ve both been.” “I see,” said Xenoth, his voice betraying his pessimism and his growing sense of depression. How could he possibly share memory with this old man. What could he, a gatebuilder, have in common with some criminal well past rejuv. They would be stuck in an unfocused Klasrum factory for the entire week. “You can image I assume?” asked Pax with a patronizing tone. “Of course,” answered Xenoth, frowning at the insult. “I can ima . . .” “Zeros at ValU. This date 15 degrees East 25 degrees North,” directed Pax. The box went dark instantly. Xenoth was slow to respond. He would have moved to the orientation instantly using star-based

methods. But Pax had issued the command using the ancient mariner’s city ValU as the reference, a land-based method that Xenoth hadn’t used since his early training. The surprise even caused Xenoth to be distracted by memories of his mistress’ explanations, an embarrassing prentice mistake. “20 degree spread,” commanded Pax impatiently, and the point appearing in the thoughtspace before them spread to a detailed view of an area of the planet’s surface. “Now let’s see where you’ve been,” said Pax without any trace of the patronizing tone. Xenoth wondered how and why the old man seemed to change his mood so quickly. “How about Rkit?” asked Pax. “No, but I spent a month on Ndus,” replied Xenoth. “Nope, don’t want to go there,” said Pax as a brief flash of a different image appeared around them then passed. Xenoth started to ask what had happened but was quickly cut off. “Scan south,” said Pax, and the image shifted upward. “Now west,” and the image sped to the right. “Have you been to Dyvr Edge, its on the point overlooking Opin Bay,” asked Pax. “No, but how about Khanvr Edge over on Clows Bay?” and again a flash quickly came then disappeared. “Never heard of it,” said Pax “But wasn’t that it?” “Said I never heard of it!” shouted Pax, and then once again in a completely different tone of voice said “Hmm . . . old people’s places I suppose. Have to dredge up early times. . Does Gensys ring a bell?”

They were plunged into another image, no more focused but entirely different. It was as if they were staring at reflections in a pond. Wide areas drifted in and out of focus as the surface of the image would move. “Well, guess we’ve both been here,” said Pax, and Kith added a grunt of agreement. “Yes, but at different timeplaces,” answered Xenoth. “Wheren were you?” asked Pax trying to get a closer where and when timeplace to bring the image into focus. “It was year GN675. It was a fine gate that we built.” “Hmph . . a gatebuilder. Maybe if you tell me about it, we can get this world into focus. My eyes are getting sore already,” said Pax.

Chapter 2. Systemi City Stay open

“That’s a very well shaped gate, Xenoth. But why are the walls

so thick and the doors closed?” “I made the walls thick enough to withstand any attack, and the

door is closed to keep out enemies, Mistress Gatebuilder. Gate Xenoth 1 will last forever!”

“Far longer than the people inside will, I’m afraid. Walls that thick and doors that are closed will suffocate them. Unless we open our gates and exchange energy with the outside, the stones we use to build our gates will be the walls of our tomb rather than stepping stones to our future.”

“I had been invited to Systemi City to help them try to build a new gate. Apparently over the preceding few decades the old gate had become difficult to open. The City wished to retain the flavor of the old gate but to fashion a new one in a different location. Many didn’t quite understand it at the time, but they needed a gate that would reopen and revive the city with new people and new ideas.” “So you’re a gatekeeper then?” asked Pax “Certainly not! I am a gatebuilder sir,” replied Xenoth, obviously offended. “Sorry. You don’t need to be so touchy.” “I dedicated my life to building gates, and in the past century I’ve seen more and more being kept,” said Xenoth with a bit more force than he wished.

“And with a tongue so full of fire its no wonder you’re here,” said Pax pointing out the tone of Xenoth’s response, but also testing his suspicion as to why Xenoth had been imprisoned. “I don’t hide my feelings from the Travelers,” said Xenoth taking the bait. “If the Gating Guild finds me to be a threat, so be it. They’ve destroyed what once was great. Now they keep rather than build. And when I try to show them what they’ve done, or what we’ve done,” he admitted resignedly, “I’m brought here to be silenced. But they can’t silence me now . .” He stopped short, realizing he had already said too much to this stranger. He tried to cover it up by saying “Well, I guess they have silenced me haven’t they.”

Old Boundary

Existing Shells

GateXenoth 45

Abandoned Shells

Gate Lancas 19

Desert

breakdown X

Systemi City

Xenoth felt surprisingly unsuspicious talking with Pax, but he reminded himself that the crats were probably listening. Foolishly, he had almost given away his plans. “Okay Gatebuilder Zen-oath, so you angered your Guild. Let’s get back to Systemi City and see if we can’t share,” said Pax fearful that he would be the recipient of a week-long political lecture. “Fine . . . it’s Gatebuilder Xenoth.” “Oh, Xenoth it is,” said Pax. “So you were at Systemi City.” “Yes, as I said, I was there to help them build a new gate that would reopen the city.”

“I was met at Gate Lancas 19,” said Xenoth recalling the gate’s sign. Such signs told the name of the gate’s builder and the chronological number of the gate in the builder’s career. “My guide was named Elem. I recall that as we met, her smile didn’t match the phrase she used to greet me. She said ‘close up’ and I thought she meant for me to keep silent. That wasn’t the case. It was simply the greeting she used. Elem was the finder of her cell.” “Finder? What’s that?” asked Pax. “Her role in the cell was to find things, for example, the path between places, or water and food sources, or the way to meet cell goals, and so on. Other cell members took roles such as maker, counselor, grower, recorder . . . there were others, but I can’t recall them all.” Kith growled, and Xenoth recognized this as a sign of irritation.

“Oh. . carrier of course,” said Xenoth not meaning to offend the rocat. It was never a good idea to offend a rocat. “As she escorted me through Gate Lancas 19, I could see why they had requested my services. Lancas 19 had been kept for a long time. It looked ancient and in total disrepair. Not only had it been kept; it had been ignored. We had to climb over stones that had fallen from the arch and columns, and to squeeze through the slender opening that remained. I was pleased that they wanted a new gate and not a rejuv. For a gate in that condition, I don’t believe that rejuv would have been possible.” “Passing through the gate, I thought that I would find the city waiting on the other side. But instead of buildings and vehicles and people I found myself and Elem’s cell members still in the midst of the Gensys Desert. Nothing but sand in sight. I asked where the city was. Elem replied, ‘There are more people gathered in other areas, but we are the city.’ I asked what she meant. She said that it would make more sense to me as we traveled, but that the city was its people. ‘We are the Ghest cell of the RelAshuns clan’ she said. ‘The City is currently made up of 85 clans. Also, most members of this cell belong to the PursNL cult, but a few are members of StructR and ProsS. No one in this cell is a member of MishN cult, but perhaps I will join someday.’ She ushered us into their vehicle and said ‘We must get started now or we’ll be caught in the desert over night. Take your seat in the sandburner.’ And so I climbed aboard the vehicle. The carrier taking the controls sped us off along the surface of the sand. It was a smooth ride but very noisy. A combination of the sand intakes sucking from the desert below

us and the jets roaring behind made it impossible to talk to one another.” “Actually no one seemed all that interested in communicating anyway. They smiled at me when I looked in their direction but seemed more interested in their work than in me. Here I thought the visit of a gatebuilder would be a major occasion. As it turned out they were quite accustomed to escorting people far more important than me. . . but that’s another story I suppose.” “Very interesting. Go on,” said Pax, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts. “It wasn’t more than a few hours before we had a bit of trouble. We were still in the middle of the desert, although I could see what appeared to be hills in the distance. I began to notice the cell members communicating with one another, first through simple hand gestures, then through words, and then in no time they had built up to very loud shouts. As the burner slowed and settled onto the sand, the noise of the intakes and jets diminished, but the cell members kept shouting. When one started, all joined in. I had no idea how they could separate each other’s voice from the cacophony.” “They all went suddenly silent when Elem raised the door letting the hot desert air into the vehicle. She made the brief statement ‘sequence possibilities’ to the group. I was able to learn later that it had been a command to give her their impressions as to why the burner had failed. The ‘sequence’ part was a courtesy to me. They would offer their thoughts one at a time so that a person such as me who was not familiar with simultalk could follow

along. It was part of their clan’s role to educate visitors, so they were used to such requests, even though it slowed things down considerably.” “The recorder was the first to speak. He gave a running account of events leading up to the failure. He had been monitoring the speed of the vehicle and the noise level and had apparently noticed a problem for some time. He reported that the carrier responded well to the events leading to failure. He also compared the pattern of events to two similar failures with the particular type of sandburner in the past three months.” “The carrier spoke next and verified the record of events. She said that a sensor had warned of unbalanced intake and that her efforts to compensate had been unsuccessful. She stated that she was in the process of precautionary shutdown when the failure had occurred.” “The counselor sensing the carrier’s tension made sure that everyone understood that the vehicle had in fact failed several times recently and that no one was to blame. He had apparently noted a bit of defensiveness in her voice.” “The maker offered a possible cause which the team set out to investigate. It didn’t turn out to be the true cause, but it did lead them forward. And in the process of investigating this possibility, the true cause was spotted. I think it was something jammed in a pipe next to the intake, but I can’t recall precisely. I was more interested in how they went about finding and solving the problem. Each member looked at it a bit differently. They shared their impressions, learned from each other, and jointly tested possible

causes. After the maker did the fix, we all simply got back in and sped away. Quite an interesting process, but of course not one that would work everywhere.” “What do you mean?” asked Pax seeming to return from reverie. “I mean that not too many peoples are willing to give up their individuality in such a way.” “What makes you think they gave up their individuality?” “The way they performed as a team. No member tried to be the hero and solve the problem on his or her own.” “And did these people have names or numbers?” asked Pax. “Names of course.” “Hmph. Gave up individuality, eh?” “Uh . . . should I continue?” said Xenoth, not really understanding the point of Pax’s remark. “Good for many—good for one—good for many,” Pax mumbled, then added more clearly “Yes, continue” before Xenoth had a chance to ask what he meant by the phrase.

“We traveled for the remainder of the day, and I must admit I grew very tired of the noise of the sandburner. We passed what seemed to be the ruins of ancient buildings every now and then, but it was too noisy for me to ask about them. Just before the sunset, we came to the beginning of what I had thought from a distance to be hills. The hill shapes were not created by rock or soil, but by ‘bands’ of light in the sky, like rainbows but covering the entire sky over an area of land. They were created by mist from central fountains. The City’s makers had created these sort of

‘shells’ over the land by tapping into underground water. Great pumps brought the water to the surface and fountains sprayed it into the atmosphere. Circulating air masses somehow returned the mist to the surface gently over a predetermined zone of land. It was an incredible sight for me, but I soon discovered that it was far more for the City members.” “As it turns out, members of each cult trained themselves to see different bands of light in the shells.” “You mean they just saw blue or red or some other color of their choice?” asked Pax. “Yes and no. They all had the ability to see what you and I can see. Some learned to intensify particular colors. Others extended into other bands beyond our normal vision. For example, some extended their vision into infrared while others extended into ultraviolet. They described other bands as well, but I never did understand. Quite literally, they saw more than you or I, and different members looking at the same object or in the same direction would see different things.” “Hmph. Quite a novelty,” said Pax, seeming unimpressed. “More than a novelty Pax. Through this training they became far more attuned to their environment. They could share perceptions with one another and expand the range of awareness of a cell . . or of the entire City. If I hadn’t become aware of their varying perceptions, I would have never understood how the City worked. My gate would have been a failure as a result.”

Pax shifted in his seat to get more comfortable and Xenoth noticed that Kith didn’t make the slightest movement. The two must have been together for a very long time. “So we entered one of these shells. I could feel the mist about me and I could smell the vegetation. It was quite refreshing after so many hours in the burner. Night was falling so I couldn’t make out many structures. Elem walked me to what she called a ‘cover,’ and a bed awaited me inside.” “I awoke in the morning feeling a bit stiff, but a few minutes of stretching brought me around. I could barely remember laying down. The journey must have taken more out of me than I had thought. The ‘cover’ was a five-sided shelter, something like a tent but more permanent. Each side was screened to let air flow in and out, carrying with it the percent of mist desired by the occupant. The mist itself seemed to regulate the temperature, I assume acting as some sort of heatsink or condenser/evaporator on a large scale.” “I walked out from the cover into the morning light. At first I thought my eyes were simply not focusing well after I had just awoke. But when they didn’t adjust as I would normally expect, I realized I was seeing the way things were, or at least what my eyes could see of it. The mist enveloped everything and with the sun’s bright light made me feel like I was inside of a rainbow. The sky, the bushes and trees, the grass, and the cover itself all took on a variety of rich colors. A single blade of grass could be emerald in the center, aquamarine at the edges, and yellow or red at the tip.” “The cover was in a basin amidst low rolling hills. Perhaps the area had been covered by sand dunes in the distant past. I

couldn’t see any other buildings or other people, but I did find a trail leading away from the cover toward the top of a hill. As I came to the top, I could see that I was near the edge of a shell. Beyond that edge was the desert we had crossed. In other directions, similar shells extended into the distance. And in the center of each shell, I could just make out the fountains.” “Engrossed in this truly beautiful sight I didn’t hear Elem come up behind me. She was accompanied by another woman who she introduced as Infu, a carrier of a ReCv cell. I commented on the spectacular beauty of the shells in the morning. Infu replied that all their mornings were the same. I couldn’t help feeling a bit naive. Nor could I miss the tone of boredom or sadness in Infu’s voice. Elem said that Infu would be introducing me to the City. I thought that meant she would give me a tour, but instead it meant that she would formally introduce me. That is, I was a guest who needed to be introduced, sort of like ‘City, this is Xenoth. Xenoth, this is City.’ I wasn’t welcome until such a proper introduction had been given.” “The manner of the introduction proved to be quite revealing. I was asked to share a message that would be conveyed to the City. The question was basically ‘What do you have to say to us?’ I offered a very simple message that any gatebuilder would give. Had I realized how important this message was, I would have become quite nervous and struggled for ideas. What I said was ‘A new gate arises.’” “Infu asked me to ‘set the message across the mist.’ I didn’t know what that meant, so she took my hand in hers and held her

other hand up into the mist. Then she told me to shout my message as loudly as I could. Wanting to honor their customs, I shouted ‘A NEW GATE ARISES.’ After a moment Infu smiled at me and said that it was a good message. Elem left me with Infu and wished me success. I wouldn’t see Elem again during my time there. I didn’t know how, but my message was on everyone’s lips very soon after. Infu walked with me across the shell and as we traveled, other members would look up from their work or play, smile at me and say ‘A new gate arises.’” “I asked Infu how this had happened. She said that the mist carried my message to the entire City. I thought ‘what magical powers the mist must have’ at the time, and I suspect that’s what the people of the City would have most visitors believe. I learned, however, that the mist simply carried members’ shouts ahead of me. Regardless, I also learned that Infu would have ended my visit then and there and sent me back across the desert had my message not been what the people wished to hear.” “Given that I was the appointed gatebuilder, Infu was able to tell me more about this process. She said that one of the duties of ReCv cell was to judge messages. If a message had ‘potent fit,’ then the ReCv cell would pass it along to the Thru and MonitR cells. The Thru cell would spread the message quickly across the City and the MonitR cell would watch what happened. If MonitR sensed broad acceptance of the message, MonitR cell members would tell Thru to continue spreading it. On the other hand, if MonitR sensed resistance, then cell members would tell Thru to either stop spreading the message or, in an extreme case, to

contradict the message. In such an extreme, ReCv members would be punished and reassigned to other cells, of course.” “Whoa, slow down there,” interrupted Pax, looking up for the first time in quite a while. “ReCv tells Thru, Thru checks with MonitR, MonitR watches City?” “No, ReCv judges message, Thru tells City, MonitR watches City and tells Thru,” replied Xenoth. “MonitR watches Thru and tells City?” “No. MonitR watches City and tells Thru.” “Who watches MonitR?” “Uh. . I don’t know.” “Aha!” shouted Pax, self satisfied. “Snnrrrt” bellowed Kith in what seemed to be a giggle, if one can imagine a rocat giggling. Annoyed at the intrusion, Xenoth continued. “She described this as the ‘season of the message.’ Messages that were judged to have ‘good fit’ would stay on City members’ lips as their form of greeting for a period of time. And so ‘a new gate arises’ took over from ‘close up’ for at least as long as I was there.”

“It was during this time that I started to work out some of the contradictions. There they were in what appeared to me to be an ideal world, yet they didn’t seem very happy. While I marveled at the colors and was invigorated by the mist, they seemed bored and many were even lazy. I was met at the gate by a team of professionals, yet that gate had nearly collapsed and closed. And my words became the City greeting, yet those words had depended on my chance thought of something that had ‘good fit.’”

“Chance you say?” asked Pax with a touch of irritation in his voice. “A gatebuilder’s message having good fit by chance?” “Yes, by chance I believe,” replied Xenoth. “I gave it thought certainly, but the precise words simply came to me as would any other phrase in a conversation.” “Hmph. Sounds like you underestimate the freemin . . uh I mean the . . uh . . well go on with the story already.” “You know of the freemind?” asked Xenoth, startled that Pax would know about gatebuilding techniques. “I heard about it from another prisoner . . years ago,” said Pax. Xenoth didn’t feel that Pax was being entirely honest, but thought it best not to pursue it just yet. “Go on, you were traveling with Infu,” said Pax. The old man seemed to have grown more and more attentive as the story went on. “Yes, as we traveled from one shell to another I became more and more aware of their condition. The City was beautiful to the visitor and appeared to work well. But as the gate closed more and more, the City was slowly dying. The shells had at one time reached out to the gate. Now only a fraction of the former area remained inhabited and much had returned to desert. Fountains were breaking down more and more, throwing temperature control, food generation, waste disposal, and every other interrelated facet of the City into imbalance. What I was seeing as a full spectrum of colors was apparently a narrow band of what had been in the past. Likewise, members’ lives had become routine. They did the same

jobs over and over, traveled the same paths, lived in the same shells, followed the same rituals. They had lost their energy. They couldn’t let in new ideas because they had lost their ability to adapt. They couldn’t build new shells because their makers had skill only to maintain and repair, and shells were gradually wearing beyond repair. And they repeated messages without understanding their meanings. The new gate was a great challenge for me, and for them. Actually, I admire them for recognizing what they had become and for having the courage to ask for my help. Although in the end I learned that it was a small rebel group that had brought me to the City. Had others truly understood why I was there and what a new gate would mean, I would have been thrown out, or worse.” Xenoth paused. He seemed lost in his memories, almost forgetting where he was. “So tell me about the gate you helped them build,” requested Pax, bringing Xenoth back to the present. “Gladly,” said Xenoth with more than a little pride shining through. “Xenoth 45 was a fine gate that served them quite well. To open a City that had been closing so long took a great deal of effort from its members. I remember that the image came from a little boy, no more than seven years of age. He had been brought to one of the idea generation sessions by his parents, and as you might expect, he became quite bored. In his restlessness he began to sing an old folk tune. Let’s see, how did it go . . . hel found? . . hal found? . . . hal fount . . yes, that’s it.

hal fount under sand hal fount over sky hal fount inside City share the mist or die.

His mother hushed him, but something made me ask about the words. He and most others there thought that the words were ‘hal found,’ Hal being a person who found something or other. A very old woman corrected them. It was ‘hal fount,’ and through further questions I learned that ‘hal’ meant both whole and health, and fount was short for fountain. So the song was really about preserving the health of the whole City by sharing the mist of the fountains. Well, actually the first interpretation we had was ‘hearing the mist’ rather than ‘sharing’ it, so some wanted to send out listeners rather than sharers.” “What’s that?” asked Pax. “Oh sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself,” apologized Xenoth. “By exploring the meaning of the old song, the group came to realize how essential the fountains were to their survival. Of course they knew that they depended on the fountains for their physical well-being. But they recognized that the concept of a fountain was essential to the City in other ways. They came to see how the fountains created shells under which they lived by forcing water away from the ground, essentially giving up resources to the air in order to receive back the mist. In fact, they had been trying to concentrate the flow as the City grew smaller, and received less and less mist back, leading to greater efforts to concentrate the flow, and so on. A cycle of diminishing returns. But what they did

not see was that the same thing was happening in other areas of their lives. They had gradually closed themselves off more and more from the outside world and were receiving less and less back as a result. They needed to re-conceive of the fountain as a sort of net sent out to capture ideas rather than a shell keeping harm outside.” “Hold on. Back up a bit. Send less water into the air and get less back. Seems obvious to me,” said Pax. “I don’t quite understand the science, but they discovered that that was how the fountains really worked. They captured moisture from the air by spraying a small amount of moisture drawn from below the surface into it. Some sort of special chemical in the ground helped apparently.” “Hmph. So what’s this net thing?” asked Pax. “That was my contribution actually. I helped them flip the way they were seeing the fountain—from what it kept out to what it brought in—and to how it had to push things outward and away to get something back. You see, the people of the City had been trying to survive by closing themselves off and carefully filtering the messages they let in. They had become listeners, and not very good listeners at that, when they had to speak—to share of themselves—to expect anything in return. So the gate I helped them build was in the form of a fountain, but it symbolized an outward spraying of thoughts so that those thoughts could return with new ideas attached. In a sense, a net to throw and capture ideas with, rather than a shield for defense. And rather than a gate

at the edge of the City, it would be a gate in the center. A focus to be continually built rather than a barrier to be kept.” “We raised our P&P flags in a site midway between what had been considered the borders of the City. This happened to be just outside the cluster of existing fountains.” “P&P?” asked Pax. “Oh sorry, Purpose and Plan. In most of my gates I have raised flags at the site representing the purposes, and the plans by which those purposes would be achieved. The flags capture the image—in this case the fountain concept—and give everyone guidance in selecting the R&S stones. Oh, sorry again. R means Requirements and S means Strategy. They’re the little pieces that make up the gate.” “P P R S. Hmph. Peppers,” said Pax sarcastically. “No, S P P I R S SppIrs as in the spires on each side of the gate. It begins with S for the situation,” explained Xenoth. “The gatebuilder’s first job is to help people understand the situation. Well, I won’t bore you with the technical details.” “Each member of the City brought a stone and we built the gate with the spirit of a fountain inside. It was a grand day when I signed the gate,” Xenoth continued with a smile, but his smile disappeared as he said, “but now, of course, I find such signing to be distasteful. A practice no longer appropriate. It should be abolished along with all the other . . .” His voice trailed off. “And what did the key say?” asked Pax. “Hmm. . you do know more about gating than you admit,” said Xenoth noting Pax’s use of the term key, but again not

wanting to appear too eager. “We inscribed the keystone to read ‘Messages on the mist—Enliven us.’ It sounds a bit trite now, but it was a truly remarkable leap for them—a leap to opening themselves to messages that didn’t simply follow the way things were! They had to change what they meant by ‘good fit’ and to actively seek fresh ideas. Of course, they didn’t have to change the City with every new idea, but they had to be open to the possibility. I imagine they have built other gates by now, but Xenoth 45 was a great leap for them.”

It had not occurred to him before, being so caught up in the story, but suddenly Xenoth realized that the box had become a rich representation of Systemi City. If he didn’t known better he would have believed that he actually was back there admiring Gate Xenoth 45. “How can this be, Pax? I had no idea we could share so fully.” “You tell a good story. I can image it quite well.” “What a wondrous box this is.” “Wondrous?!” cried Pax, and even Kith let out a roar of disapproval. “You’re in prison. We’ll see how wondrous you think it is soon enough.” Remembering that he was in Pax’s box, Xenoth said “I’ll be out of your way in just a week sir.” “Hmm. . maybe not,” said Pax, looking away to avoid Xenoth’s stare. “Oh, I suppose you’ll learn soon enough. It’s been eight days. The goons have come with supplies and gone.”

“What? How can that be?” asked Xenoth in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop?” “You tell a pretty good story. I’d hate to miss the end,” replied Pax. But Xenoth couldn’t help feeling that he had done more than tell a story. “You’ve kept me here another week. I thought you didn’t want me in your cell.” “Well, actually it’ll be a month this time. They seem to have supplied us quite well,” replied Pax, not wanting to acknowledge that he had come to enjoy the company. “A month?” cried Xenoth. “I thought my trial would have occurred already.” “Oh, trials happen all the time I suspect. What’s your hurry?” asked Pax. Xenoth stared at the old man for a moment, then thinking about the certain outcome of his trial replied, “good point.”

Chapter 3. Natursys Wood Everything relates

“Mistress Gatebuilder? You asked me to pull out a stone. But

each time I select a stone and pull it out, the entire gate falls.”

“Try again, Xenoth.” “But the stones are all the same.” “No, Xenoth. They look the same in a drawing or when they are

laid on the ground apart. In the gate, each has its unique place and purpose, and all are interconnected.

“But if each stone has a special purpose and they are all interconnected, how can one be removed . . or even changed a bit?”

“Only with great care.” After a long sleep Xenoth awoke under a shell in Systemi City. At least for the first few moments that’s where he thought he was. “Morning,” said Pax startling Xenoth and forcing him to recall that he was in a prison box. “Yes, good morning,” replied Xenoth groggily as he tried to stand. “Goodness, I feel like I’ve slept for a week. My joints are so stiff.” “Not a week. Only 2 days in fact,” said Pax, his sober expression telling Xenoth that it was true. Xenoth had slept for two full days recovering from the drugged capture and the long telling of his tale about Systemi City.

“Here eat, it’ll help,” said Pax passing Xenoth a plateful of food. “There’s liquid over there.” The meal was quite good, and Xenoth felt that he could imagine far worse prisons. Systemi City brought back good memories, and he wouldn’t mind staying here for a while, even if it was an illusion of the box. “So where shall we go?” asked Pax. “You mean we can leave the cell?” Xenoth said, thrilled at the possibility of escape and of return to his home and friends. “No, course not. I mean let’s find another timeplace to share.” “Why? We have Systemi City here in focus. Why would we want to change this?” said Xenoth disappointed and not at all eager to change images so soon. “Xenoth, it’s bad enough having to live only memories. To stay with just one for the month would be terrible,” said Pax, the pain of experiencing a single memory clear in his voice. A quick flash of another world came and disappeared instantly. “Not there!” cried Pax throwing his hands over his eyes. Xenoth jumped away sending his food flying through the air. “What happened?” he asked. “Never mind. We have to find a new world. I won’t stay here,” said Pax. “Zeros at ValU. 40 degrees North 0 degrees,” he commanded, and before Xenoth could object, the box was again plunged into darkness. Xenoth’s mind took him to the position Pax had specified and the view of the planet surface came into focus.

“How about Ntract. You been there?” asked Pax pointing with his outstretched arm. “No. Not even close.” “Fiebak River down by the city?” shifting his arm to the right. “Sorry, never went down that far.” “Kupling where the rivers join?” “No again,” said Xenoth still sorry to have left Systemi City. “Well, back to the early days again. Your turn then,” said Pax rising from his seat atop Kith as he spoke. Pax reached for his cane to keep his balance. Even in the light of the fake stars Xenoth instantly recognized the type of wood the cane was made from and before thinking spit out, “natursys wood.”

The image was instantly moving. The stable feeling of a floor underneath their feet and the thoughtspace projection of the planet’s surface disappeared. Xenoth’s head spun as he lost all orientation, and he could feel his stomach churn. He realized that he was falling and that his back was pressed up against someone else. He assumed it was Pax, but it wasn’t Pax’s voice. “Hold tight, Gatebuilder Xenoth,” said the voice as they plummeted and the day became night. “Where am I?” The falling and his fear and being pressed up against this person were all familiar, but it was so long ago. Then it came back in a flash. He was in a bubble vehicle along with a saprider entering a giant Natursys tree. They were riding inside runoff water from a rainstorm and entering the launch tube that would take them into the root system of the tree. From there they

would travel upward along with the water through the sapwood of the tree all the way to a leaf. At the leaf they would watch photosynthesis occur, and then they would travel back down with the sap inside the inner bark. He was here to heal Gate Balans 37, and this tour of the tree was part of his preparation. “We’re inside the launch tube now,” shouted the saprider trying to speak above the roar of the falling water. “We’ll slow down and enter the root in about thirty seconds.” Realizing where he was helped to relieve his physical discomfort. But as the physical effects disappeared, the mental confusion took over. This was a very different experience from his recollection of Systemi City. That had been a story that he told to Pax. They had found themselves in a projection of Systemi City at the end, but only because they had apparently shared similar experiences in the City at some time. This was much more real. He felt that he was actually back inside the bubble vehicle in the forest of Natursys Wood reliving the events themselves. It was more than a setting to view. It was the actual timeplace of his memory, years before his work with Systemi City. “Don’t worry about it. I’m still here. You just tell the story,” said Pax. Xenoth spun his head back and forth searching for the old man. “Pax where are you?” he shouted. “What was that?” asked the saprider.

“Just tell the story,” Pax’s voice replied, and Xenoth realized that there was no space for another person in the vehicle. It was just a voice in his mind. Gate Balans 37 had been constructed as a model for management of the Natursys forest in the northern region of the

planet’s main continent. The forest was an extraordinarily important resource for the region and had to be managed with great care. The gate was composed of a giant Natursys tree, the sapriders who cared for the tree, and the master chem plans that the sapriders followed. The sapriders would be called growers in Systemi City. Here they got their name from the curious way they needed to travel in their work. Xenoth had been brought in to investigate reported problems with the Balans 37 tree. Gatebuilder Balans herself was unavailable—political problems Xenoth seemed to recall—and so he had been selected for the job. The tree had begun to shed leaves and insulate itself when it should have been trying to grow, and to try to grow when conditions were not favorable. The sapriders charged with monitoring the tree’s cycles and following the Balans 37 chem plans had made a number of adjustments, but they couldn’t figure out what was happening. The tree still had many years of life ahead—there was still much space for growth. But it was giving signs of decay and would not survive many more seasons if the present pattern continued. And the trees of the entire forest had connected roots. Balans 37’s responses to change triggered similar responses in surrounding trees, and whatever happened to Balans 37 would eventually affect the entire forest. The sapriders had asked Xenoth to find the problem and to heal the tree. The vehicle started to slow and Xenoth could begin to make out features on the outside.

“Okay, tree entry in 7 6 5 4 . . . Hold tight for the shift, sir,” and without any more notice, the downward movement had shifted to sideways. “We’re in the tree root now,” said the saprider. “Relax as best you can. The ride up from here is slow.” Xenoth recalled that the ride up through the sapwood of the tree inside the water that surrounded the vehicle would take days. A slow and uneventful period, if they avoided getting too close to the cambium of course. In the cambium, the living layer between wood and bark, they could see the tree grow but they could also be confused for a nutrient and get themselves dissolved fairly easily. But if this were his memory to be relived, he wouldn’t know that just yet. He would have to experience the close call again. “If you’d like, we could go over to the cambium and watch a few cell births on the way up,” said the saprider. And before Xenoth had a chance to think he had responded, “That would be splendid, Ment.” He was surprised to remember the saprider’s name, but was even more surprised that he would accept such an offer knowing that it would lead to danger, to one of the most frightening experiences of his life, in fact. Could he do nothing but repeat his very actions and words? If that were the case, then he surely could understand what Pax meant about it being awful to stay in one timeplace in memory, and how this was a prison after all. “Brrmmb” trumpeted Kith, and Xenoth realized that the rocat was there in his mind as well.

Sure enough, on the second day the saprider offered to steer close to the cambium and watch a cell division. And as he had

done years earlier, Xenoth excitedly accepted. Without control of his own voice, he would have to relive the nearly fatal event. “Pax,” he said in his mind “you wouldn’t happen to know how to skip ahead would you?” “Sorry, I’m just along for the ride like you,” Pax’s voice replied. As they approached the cambium, the saprider said, “We’ll have to be careful here. We don’t want to get caught in a sap flow or we’ll be headed down . . . and this will be a short trip.” Xenoth tried to close his eyes and shut out what was about to happen, but he couldn’t. “Here we are,” said Ment. The walls of the pathway they had been following suddenly started to move. They could see a cell the size of the vehicle changing shape before their eyes. “Watch the mother divide, Gatebuilder Xenoth,” said Ment waiting for the mother cell to divide into two daughters. “One daughter will become a new mother and go on to divide herself. The other will become wood here on the inside. If we were on the outside, it would become bark. We might see that on the way down,” he said, then realizing that Xenoth did not get the joke, he added. “Of course, we don’t really want to see that because it would mean we were dangerously close to the outside of the flow and we might get taken for food.” Xenoth cringed inside at the reminder. Then as he knew to expect, the cell split in two. The vertical elongated shape suddenly broke across the center and became two cells. And as the split occurred, he and the saprider became more than casual observers.

The vehicle was sucked through the space between the new cells. They were thrown about and the saprider’s efforts to control the vehicle were futile. “Caterpillars! We’re caught in a sap flow,” shouted Ment. “And we’re too close to the edge of the flow!” Without a quick and drastic response they soon would be caught within living tissue and be used as nutrients for tree growth. The saprider would have to trigger the vehicle’s emergency shield. The shield entombed the vehicle in a toxic chemical that would allow the saprider time to guide it back to the center of the flow, or if he were very skilled, even out of the flow and back to the water. But it would also kill the tree cells it touched. Triggering a shield inside a tree that was already in poor health would lead to a severe reprimand, maybe even a demotion from Balans 37 duty. Of course, the saprider did trigger the shield, but was skilled enough to guide them back to the water through several rays, that is, cells that resembled ribbons on their edge running horizontally from the center of the tree outward. The saprider caused as little harm to the tree as he could, something Xenoth would note when he pled Ment’s case and kept him from demotion several weeks in the future. “The tree has a new vein, and I’ll need thick bark,” said Ment, dejectedly anticipating his punishment. This was Xenoth’s first experience with the sapriders speaking of the trees as having human qualities and themselves having tree-like qualities. A rider might say that a cut in his arm bled sap, or that a tree was angry or proud.

The remainder of the trip up through the sapwood was uneventful. Xenoth used the time to learn as much as he could from the saprider about Balans 37, in particular what had led them to call for help from the gatebuilders. He learned that the trees of the Natursys forest were harvested on an on-going basis but, supposedly, only in ways that made the forest stronger. Every piece of a tree was used for one purpose or another and nothing was simply discarded. Seedlings were planted to replace any tree that died. Branches were trimmed if they interfered with one another. And most importantly, the living growth process of a tree was monitored and controlled through the chem plan modeled in Balans 37. This involved the introduction of various chemical agents that would speed or retard specific processes and thus artificially enhance the tree’s growth and productive capacity. Xenoth was also able to piece together some historical facts, but these would have to be checked out more carefully with other sources. According to the saprider, early settlers of the forest had worshipped the trees. They believed that the trees were god-like and would reward or punish depending on how well the people cared for them. Only dead wood could be gathered and used for fuel or shelter or other needs. To strike a tree or to harm it in any other way was a sin. A more modern approach had been introduced by the gatebuilder Balans. She had shown the people how to control the growth of the forest and to manage it carefully so that the trees would supply an ever-increasing source of energy, energy not only for use by the people of the forest, but for others in the Biosys

region and beyond. The wood and other parts of the tree had become a commodity to be traded to others. Meeting trade demands had pushed the sapriders to find ways to improve productivity in tree growth and efficiency in the harvest. The problems with Balans 37 now threatened that trade.

On the third day, the water they rode within angled off, and the saprider informed Xenoth that they had entered a limb. After two more days, the saprider selected a path into a twig and they were now approaching a leaf toward the tip of the twig. “This will be the hard part,” said Ment. “We have to maneuver our way to a place where you can observe the reaction but not get caught in it.” Years ago when this had really happened, Xenoth had difficulty hiding his near panic. He wanted no part of something that the saprider thought was harder than the escape early in the trip. However, being able to recall that this would be a successful observation, he was quite relaxed this time around. The artificial light of the bubble vehicle began to fade as they approached the leaf. The sunlight filtering through the leaf made the world about them turn various shades of green. “Watch how this happens now,” said the saprider starting to explain the process of photosynthesis. “The water we have ridden and gas from the air, carbon dioxide to be precise, will combine and become something new. That stuff over there is chlorophyll, the catalyst that gets things going. The heat you’re feeling is not just the energy from the sun. It’s a byproduct of the reaction. And if it weren’t for some of the water evaporating off the leaf through

transpiration we would burn up. The outputs of this process are oxygen returning to the air, and the sugars that help the tree grow. We’ll be traveling with those sugars in the sap on the way down.” In the original trip, Xenoth had anticipated a violent jump from the water to the sap. It was far smoother than that. In fact, it was difficult to pin down where the turnaround had occurred. It simply became darker, and he began to notice other things floating in the water. The sugars had mixed with the water that remained after photosynthesis and transpiration, and they were riding in the resulting sap solution. They were already on the way back down through the twig and into the branch. The trip down would be slower than the trip up. They were inside the living bark and would need to stay in the center of the sap flow to keep moving steadily, yet avoid the cambium where they could be dissolved. “Notice how these cells are maturing,” said the saprider. “These daughters are becoming bark. They will change shape for about a week after birth. Then they’ll grow their secondary walls. There, you see the secondary wall starting to appear on that cell over there. We’ll be taking the lignin sample from a secondary wall fairly soon.” The lignin sample was used in a key monitoring process in the chem plan. Lignin fortified the cellulose that made up the secondary wall of cells and could be used to determine how cells were responding to the sapriders’ adjustments. Asking many questions about these processes, Xenoth learned that recent changes had been made. In the past, the lignin tests had been performed by the saprider while she or he was still inside the tree.

Recently, as part of the effort to improve efficiency, the sapriders had begun to extract lignin samples from the tree and to carry those samples with them for later analysis. This saved a great deal of time. The saprider did not have to stay stationary for the five-hour test—at a large cost in energy fighting the downward flow. And outside of the tree, the testing could be performed on a large set of samples simultaneously. When it came time for the sample to be taken, the saprider maneuvered the vehicle near a cell that was approximately four days old. The cell was still not permanently fixed in size and shape, but had a noticeable secondary wall. He extended the scraper from the rear of the bubble vehicle, lined up some lignin in the sights, and as the vehicle spun, a piece of lignin was scraped away from the secondary wall. Operating the controls to achieve this maneuver was quite complicated and so the saprider concentrated on his instruments and relied on the scraping sound to tell him that the sample had been gathered. Xenoth, on the other hand, with his back to the saprider and no tasks to perform, was able to watch it occur. He noticed as the sample came away from the wall that its shape and color changed slightly. Glancing back and forth from the sample to lignin still on the wall, he could see that they were not the same. “When did this change in testing procedure occur?” he asked the saprider. “Eight months ago, as part of our fourth round of efficiency measures,” answered Ment.

“And when did the problems with the Balans 37 tree begin to be noticed?” “About six months ago, I think.” “I see. And the lignin sample is used to monitor chemical adjustments, you say?” “Yes, that’s correct, gatebuilder.” “And so, I can assume that a change in the lignin will result in a change in chemicals introduced to the tree cells?” “Precisely . .” said the saprider with a questioning look on his face. “Did I miss the lignin with the scraper?” he asked, certain that he had not, but confused by Xenoth’s question. “No, but I fear that you now have a sample of ‘extracted’ lignin, not a sample of lignin as it exists in the secondary wall.” Xenoth explained what he had seen occur, and he and the saprider agreed to spend the five hours testing lignin intact in the cell wall. If the readings did not match those obtained from their scraped sample when it was tested outside, they would confirm that the efficiency measure had, in fact, introduced an error into the process. Of course, that is what Xenoth already knew they would find and that this particular efficiency measure would be repealed immediately.

After nearly a week and a half of travel in the sap, the saprider announced that they were nearing the escape tap and that Xenoth should prepare himself for a stimulating end to the trip. Without control of his voice, Xenoth couldn’t comment on the sarcasm of ‘stimulating.’ His memory was that it was more than a little stimulating. It was downright violent and frightening.

As they entered the escape tap, they shifted to a slightly more horizontal direction and accelerated rapidly. Once again, Xenoth tried to close his eyes but couldn’t. Their fall into the landing pool as they exited the tap was every bit as ‘stimulating’ as their fall through the launch tube. It seemed to go on forever, falling and falling, faster and faster, the drop of sap around them hiding the outside world but not the frightening feeling of downward acceleration. They hit the turbulent pool of sap and were thrown about, spinning this way and that, nearing the surface for a moment only to be driven back down by another falling drop of sap. Eventually they floated to the surface clear of the flow and the saprider used the last bits of stored energy to maneuver the vehicle to the recovery area. There it was captured by the arms of the recovery crane and they were lifted from the pool. The saprider explained the possible problem with lignin extraction to his superior, and after his suspicion was verified through testing of the sample, he and Xenoth were escorted to the head saprider’s office. “Greetings, Gatebuilder Xenoth. I trust your journey was successful,” said Pith, the head saprider. “Praise Natursys, yes,” replied Xenoth using the ancient phrase. Pith was caught off guard by the phrase, but she quickly recovered and gave the appropriate response, “The Forest Grows.” “What have you discovered, and how long before we are back up to speed, gatebuilder?” asked Pith.

Noting Pith’s concern with production, Xenoth replied, “We have seen that the lignin extraction method induces error, Pith. The lignin appears to change as a result of extraction. The samples you have been testing outside the tree are chemically different from the lignin inside the tree.” Pith immediately recognized the implications of this. “Are you sure? If that’s so, then the process has been the cause of the problem. Termites, what a catastrophe! The testers will be reassigned immediately.” “Were they not simply following instructions?” asked Xenoth. “Yes, you’re right. It was the chief chemist’s instructions. He will be fired.” “Well, maybe your chemist should have recognized this, but what led him to recommend this new method?” asked Xenoth. “Our customers require more Natursys wood. We must become more efficient.” “And are you more efficient today?” asked Xenoth. “We will be, gatebuilder. As soon as we get Balans 37 back growing properly. Thank you, and I hope your return voyage will be pleasant,” she said ushering Xenoth toward the door. “My work is not complete, Pith.” “My apologies, gatebuilder, but I am a very busy woman,” she said, trying to hurry Xenoth along. But Xenoth didn’t move. Pith looked away and could hear the nervous tension in her own voice. “Gatebuilder, please excuse me.” Then when he did not

move, she turned to Ment and said “please wait outside.” Ment left the office and closed the door behind. “Gatebuilder, the quality of saprider training is poor and needs my attention. Morale is low. Vehicle maintenance is falling off. The launch tubes are not being cleaned properly. There have been too many emergency shields used lately. We have had three vehicles destroyed when a saprider needed to blow free from a leaf and parachute down. I must spend more and more of my time with customers and crats. . . I . . I’m grateful that you found our lignin problem and look forward to a return to production schedules. Thank you once again,” she said desperately trying to dismiss Xenoth and to get back to preparations for her meeting. Xenoth continued to stand silently. Pith returned to her desk, but she could not work. She stared out the window wondering if being the head saprider was worth all the aggravation and how long it would take to replace her once the scope of their problems was reported. Xenoth thought about the long list of symptoms Pith had offered. If he were to leave now, it was only a matter of time before other crises occurred. The Gating Guild would judge his efforts a failure, Balans 37 would fall, and the Natursys Forest would likely die. “Pith, I must speak bluntly to you,” said Xenoth. “You’ve mentioned a number of issues that you and the sapriders are facing,” said Xenoth. “I don’t doubt that you can manage these issues effectively in the short term, but I believe you will see more issues, more serious issues in fact, rising in their place. The issues

you are concerned with are related to more fundamental problems.” Pith stared at him uncomfortably for a moment, then asked “And what might those problems be?” “What does you name mean, Pith?” asked Xenoth, surprising Pith with this apparently unrelated question. “Uh, it is the title of honor I was given when I was named head saprider. It is a very old tradition.” “I see. And would you mind if I called you Motor or Gear?” “Gatebuilder, you don’t need to insult me,” said Pith nervously. “So you find Motor and Gear to be offensive. I see. Now let’s suppose we were to look outward from the center of Balans 37. What would we see?” “We would be in center of the heartwood so we would look along the rays and through the growth rings.” “Pith, I asked you to look out from the center of Balans 37—the gate, not the tree.” “I don’t understand.” “When I asked you about Balans 37, you saw only the tree. And when I asked you about your name, you thought it was merely your title. Your saprider told me that Pith means the center of the tree. As the tree grows upward, pith cells are left behind.” “Yes, that’s correct. But I don’t understand what this has to do with . . . um . . . I am the center of the tree?” “Yes, you are the center in a sense, but what you are the center of is an important issue. You’ve come to see the Natursys

tree as an artificial resource, or even as a factory to be managed. You, at the center, see yourself as the manager. But this view is very limited. It leads you to make changes without careful consideration of how they affect the whole. Natursys is more than the tree. It is the tree, certainly. But it is also you, and all the processes you use. It is the chemicals, your vehicles, the office we sit in, the rain that falls. . . and most importantly, it is the relations among these things. It is the whole . . . all of them together, everything that works together to create and sustain the forest and your people. Your efforts to make more wood more quickly have severed these connections. You’ve started seeing Natursys as separate parts and as a result cannot see the interdependencies. The tree is not a factory of your creation. It is a living organism, a complex, barely understandable whole. It can serve you well only if you appreciate that fact.” “I . . . understand. I must fire myself?” said Pith, hoping that the gatebuilder would disagree and restore her confidence. “Yes you must,” replied Xenoth causing Pith to sink into her chair and her eyes to fall. “You must fire Pith the manager of a factory,” continued Xenoth. “Then you must hire Pith the caretaker of your gate—one who recognizes its human, organic, and mechanical components and can get those components back to helping one another. It’s not too late for us to heal Balans 37, but we must heal the whole gate, not just the tree.” Pith looked up slowly as she came to see the wisdom of what Xenoth said. “Your argument is strong, gatebuilder,” she said. “But I have to admit that I cannot fire or hire myself. That is up to

the leaders of our regional government. We will need to take your arguments to them.”

“You can stop there,” said the voice in Xenoth’s head. “Pax?” “Yes. A good story, but you can stop now. I could use some sleep.” “But don’t you want to know how it ends?” “Well, that’s obvious. You and Pith go to the leaders, explain the problems and they argue with you. Then you convince them using their ancient traditions as the wedge, and they let you rejuv Balans 37. Excuse me, you change the name to Xenoth something or other. I assume you re-signed the gate.” “Yes, Xenoth 29 actually.” “There you see . . .” said Pax as he crawled up against Kith and closed his eyes for a rest. “But Xenoth 29 is so different from Balans 37. An entirely new gate in fact. A restored balance with the trees giving not only oxygen and wood but giving meaning to the sapriders’ lives. And the sapriders in return finding renewed appreciation, even love for their forest home. Wouldn’t you like to . . . hear about it?” Xenoth realized that he was speaking through his mouth and that he was back in the box. Or had he ever left? Pax and Kith were fast asleep.

Chapter 4. The Sound Engine People are not machines

“Xenoth, your task is to quickly complete the arch of this gate.” “Well . . . Efficie and Forma could stand on the columns and

Materia and Fina could stand on their shoulders and hold the keystone like we did in the stacking game.”

“That’s a possibility, but how long will your fellow prentices wish to stand still on top of each other holding the stone? They are not stones.”

Xenoth looked about him and remembered that what surrounded him was an artificial recreation of a world he had visited in the past. He could see the images of the Natursys Forest around him, but gone were all the sapriders and any hint of recent activity. Lying in the shade of a fallen leaf were Pax and Kith, fast asleep. He was sure that the story had been long, but he wasn’t sure how long. He felt exhausted from the telling. But he wished that Pax had let him finish. It was rude for the old man to have cut him off and guess how things turned out—with surprising accuracy. In a very few minutes, Xenoth’s disappointment faded and his eyelids grew heavy. He too crawled under a leaf and was asleep in seconds. The goon thought he had waited long enough. The prisoners were certainly sound asleep. He had recharged the box with energy from the outside. Now he stepped quietly inside to resupply the foodstores. He was just about finished when one of the metal bins

slipped from his grasp and clanged shut. Xenoth was lying nearby and facing the foodstore area, and so as he came awake he could see the goon before him. “Is it time for my trial?” he asked, and began to get up. “Stay where you are, prisoner,” the goon whispered. “You’ll be tried when you’re together.” “But what does that mean?” asked Xenoth. “You’re separate,” replied the goon looking at Xenoth, then glancing across to notice Pax and Kith under the leaf. Xenoth followed his glance but not his meaning. When he turned back, he found that the goon was gone, as was the opening to the box. He walked across to where he thought the opening had been, but he could find no trace. “Another month perhaps,” he said to himself. “I wonder where our memories will take me this time?” He glanced back to Pax lying peacefully, and at the Natursys wood cane propped underneath the edge to hold up the leaf. As he walked close, he asked himself who this old man was and why he too had been imprisoned in the cell. As Xenoth came within a few feet he stopped short. He had the unmistakable feeling of being watched. He slowly scanned to the left and right, then as he looked back to the leaf he found that Kith was wide awake and staring up at him. He knew that a rocat was not to be feared, at least in terms of any physical harm it might do to him. But Kith’s stare caught him off guard and frightened him. He could see something in the rocat’s eyes that was at once familiar and strange. Surely the rocat was protecting his companion Pax. But there was something else in his stare telling

Xenoth not to back away but to stay perfectly still and try to understand the moment. “I mean no harm to you or Pax,” Xenoth said softly not wanting to disturb Pax. “I have seen many rocat in my lifetime. But you are familiar to me Kith . . Have our paths crossed before? Perhaps we have traveled together?” No less suddenly than before, the world changed. Everything was out of focus. The leaves and the forest were gone. The floor seemed to move. The shapes and colors and sounds and smells about him were all different. Yet somewhere in this change there was a sense of connection. It was a different world, yet one he had been drawn into from inside the rocat’s stare. It was as if he had been sucked into the rocat’s eyes to be surrounded by what he saw within. “CLANG BBRRRRAAAANNNGG ZZZZZZZ SSSSSSHHH RRRR!” Xenoth’s hands leapt to his ears trying to protect him from the deafening sounds. “BZZZZ MMMMMMM DIDIDIDIDI RRRR CLANG!” “What in gatecollapse could be happening?” he thought. “KKKKK RRRRRRR CLANG BBRRRRAANNNNNGGG!” Try as he might, Xenoth could barely open his eyes. The pain started in his ears but bore straight through his head and body. “ZZZZZZZZ AKAKAK SSSSSSSHHHH UUNNGG!” Then it came to him. “AAAAOUCH HELP!” he cried. It was the sound engine of a probe ship operating in the deep sea, and he was inside the SEND/RECEIVE area unprotected. “Somewhere

else quick,” he shouted thinking that he was still in the prison box and that this was all illusion. But his shout was nowhere near loud enough to be heard above the engine. “Back to Natursys! Help PAAAXX!” he cried in desperation as he fell to the floor. And then the movement was over, and the sound stopped. Xenoth lay writhing in pain, the effects continuing just as strongly. He knew that he had just a few seconds to find a port and to get out before it began again, but it was so difficult to move. Finally, he struggled to his feet and spun about trying to find a port. As he spun he smashed into the Tech who had come to help. The Tech had been busy monitoring sending apparatus but had heard Xenoth’s cries. She had come to help as soon as she could. She ran to Xenoth’s side, only to be thrown to the floor as he stood and spun about. She recovered quickly, being familiar with the symptoms of sound exposure, grabbed Xenoth by the arm and shouted, “Gatebuilder, you must have dropped your protect unit.” She held the unit in front of Xenoth who eventually realized that she was trying to help him and stopped trying to free himself. He grabbed the unit from her and threw it on his head. With the Tech’s help, the unit was strapped on before the next movement began. Even though he was well protected, Xenoth jumped as the movement began. “POW ZZZZZZZ AKAKAKAK BBRRRAAANNNGGG!” It would take days for the symptoms of exposure to wear off.

Send/Receive

FILT FILT

AMP AMP

DAC ADC

MEM

ALU

Transducer Array

Damper

Power

Generator

Fuel

ALGO

Control

NavigationBus

Storage

Ch

an

nel

Med

ical

Sh

ow

ers

& T

oil

ets

Gall

ey

Dining

Crew

Quarters

Ro

cat

Qu

arte

rs

Propulsion

Living Area

Ball

ast

Ball

ast

Thrusters

ThrusterThruster

Hydroplane Hydroplane

Propeller

Sound Engine

Probe Ship Physdesys

“TITITI SSSHHHH CLANG CLANG!” “Are you all right Gatebuilder?” asked the Tech. “I will be fine, I think,” replied Xenoth realizing that the protect unit masked the engine sounds. He could still hear the incredibly powerful transducers, but at a low volume. The unit’s masking feature made it so that the Techs could talk to one another even when the engine was sounding.

“My head. . .” said Xenoth, clearly still in pain. “We’ll get you to medical at the next intermission. I must return to my readings now. You can sit here by the wall,” said the Tech helping Xenoth to a bench off to one side of the area. Xenoth could see the transducers of the SEND/RECEIVE area looming above him. The transducers turned electrical signals into powerful soundwaves to be sent out and bounced off the surface features of the surrounding terrain. The Tech was off to one side watching instruments and taking readings. She glanced over to Xenoth, sensing that he was looking at her. Her smile seemed to say that he would be all right and that the pain would go away soon, but it was so intense he thought that he would pass out. He knew it would be a very long recovery. “NNNNN AKAKAKAK BBBBRRRRAAANNNGGG!” the sounding continued. Xenoth didn’t know how long the movement would last, but the Tech had hinted that an intermission would be coming soon. He had time to gather his memories of this timeplace and to recall what lay ahead. But something was wrong. It took him a few minutes, but then he realized that he had no memory of actually experiencing sound exposure. He had heard about it, and seemed to remember witnessing the effects on another man. But he could not remember being exposed himself during his time aboard the ship. “Pax?” he said in his mind thinking that the old man would be with him again, but there was no response. “Am I still in the prison box?” he asked to himself. “Could that sound have been so

loud that it erased my memories?” He didn’t know which was worse, the physical pain or the confusion. The movement came to an end and the Tech finished her readings. She walked over to Xenoth and said, “We’re in intermission. I can take you to medical now.” “Thank you,” replied Xenoth as he rose from the bench. The room swirled about him for a moment and he thought that he was changing worlds. “Emen,” he said as he nearly fell to the floor. “I’ve got you,” said the Tech coming quickly to his side and helping him regain his balance. “The exposure will continue to affect your balance for a while so don’t stand up quickly,” she explained. “Emen . . your name is Emen?” asked Xenoth. “Yes, of course Gatebuilder,” she replied a bit amused. She had learned the symptoms of exposure in her training, of course. But she didn’t recall loss of memory as one. She had been his escort for the past several days and they had, she thought, come to know one another quite well. Why would Xenoth not recognize her? She led Xenoth through the port and into the channel. Once inside the channel, Emen pressed a button on the wall to request a bus, and in a few seconds one arrived. The ‘bus’ was simply a flat rectangular surface that moved on wheels within the passageway or channel. Emen pressed the ‘medical’ button on the bus and it moved away. As they rode along the channel toward medical, the bus passed the ports to a number of different areas, and Xenoth could

recall some of their purposes. AMP area where signals were boosted before being transduced and sent. FILT where final modifications were made. DAC and ADC where signals were converted from numbers to waves and vice-versa. MEM area where numbers were accumulated and stored and ALU where computations were carried out. “Did you think we had already made the turn, Gatebuilder?” asked Emen trying to be polite, but curious as to why Xenoth had been in the SEND/RECEIVE area without a protect unit. “We’re still several days from Ntropy Bay.” “I’m not sure what happened,” Xenoth replied buying some time to search his memory for more information about where he was and what they were doing. He was aboard the probe ship Physdesys, he recalled. By what Emen had just said, he gathered that they had not yet reached their destination of Ntropy Bay. There they would ‘turn’ and start the journey back to Klasrum, the home of the Gating School he was attending. “Yes, of course,” Xenoth whispered to himself. “I’m still training.” He looked down to see his young hands and wondered what he would see in a mirror. The trip aboard Physdesys was his final assignment, an exam of sorts, before he would become a gatebuilder. He would gain use of the title ‘gatebuilder’ after successful completion of this trip. Being called gatebuilder now was an affectionate tease, at least from Emen. It had started out as a sarcastic remark from the Chief Tech named CeeU. Xenoth had made a major mistake that could have cost the crew a great deal of the mission’s potential. CeeU

caught the error in time but made it clear to Xenoth that he would never become a gatebuilder if he made another such error. Since then it had become his nickname, used affectionately by most crew members, but always a reminder of the early mistake. He was accompanying the crew of Techs aboard Physdesys as they charted a zone of the Dinamk Ridge, an undersea mountain range in the Nviro Sea. For this area along the ridge, the gatebuilders needed to develop new charts often because extreme volcanic activity constantly changed the shape and position of various features. Navigating with the same chart from one year to another, or even one month to another, was extremely dangerous. Where the chart showed a valley, there might by a new mountain waiting to crush an unsuspecting ship. He was acting as the Guild’s representative, overseeing the effort on their behalf and making sure their interests were served. He was more than an observer, though. The crews of probe ships relied on the Guild students’ special knowledge of spatio-temporal dynamics. And so, CeeU had been angry over the potential cost of Xenoth’s error, but he was also nervous about getting home safely. If Xenoth proved incompetent, he would have to interpret anomalies himself based only on what skills he had obtained from watching other students on other trips. Medical is outside the sound engine, Xenoth recalled. The sound engine was the ship’s instrument for taking space measurements. It would send out a series of sounds from their submerged position, then record the sounds’ reflections. Based on the pattern of reflections, the crew would get information on the

position and shape of features in the area. On their return to Klasrum, the chart would become part of the Guild’s library, an invaluable source of information for gatebuilders’ travels along the corridor to the main continent. As the bus continued down the channel, Xenoth could see the port to Living Space come into view. But before they could make it through, the channel was suddenly bathed in red light and the bus came to a halt. A voice announcement said, “Gateprentice Xenoth to Control immediately.” “It must be something important because they used my true title,” thought Xenoth. And once again he realized that the event seemed unfamiliar. If the events were new to him, how could he be in the prison box experiencing only past memories, he wondered. The bus reversed direction at Emen’s touch. “Sorry, Gatebuilder. Medical will have to wait,” she said. They arrived at Control area and Emen took Xenoth’s arm to steady him as he stood and walked through the port. Inside the area, CeeU stood at a monitor within a wall of instruments. Two other Techs were busy at work nearby. “Gateprentice, a troubling situation before us,” said CeeU, the seriousness of the situation evident in his voice. “Perhaps you can help,” he said as a command not a request. As the Guild’s representative, Xenoth was required to offer his assistance, even when the situation fell outside his special expertise, but CeeU’s motives were clear. Here was a problem that might jeopardize the mission, and CeeU was going to share the blame with Xenoth, or even give it completely should the worst

occur. This student had already shown himself capable of a serious error in judgment. Why not let him take the Guild’s criticism for this as well. He surely wasn’t gatebuilder material anyway. “This is how they’ll try to weed me out from those students who will make builders some day,” thought Xenoth with a bit too much familiarity. He wondered if he might be in his past after all. “Algo has failed to interpret a reflection,” said CeeU. So it was close to Xenoth’s area of expertise after all. The Algo or core of the sound engine was a set of instructions specified by the engine’s maker. Apparently the Algo could not make sense of a reflected wave. Xenoth noted how CeeU referred to the core as ‘Algo,’ not ‘the algo’ and had the distinct impression that this was somehow a key to what lay ahead. But he couldn’t recall why and how. “The exposure must still be affecting my perceptions and memories,” he thought. Some of what was happening triggered memories, say of names and feelings, but he couldn’t recall the events. “You’ve checked calibration?” asked Xenoth, deciding that he would have to play along and do what he could. “Twice, and everything in the SEND/RECEIVE area seems to be functioning properly,” replied the female Tech standing off to CeeU’s side. “The wave we have received has no match in the tables. We cannot determine what caused it, or where it bounced. Neither can we determine which of our signals it reflects,” she added. Xenoth, trying to get more information about the situation asked, “We have been sending signals in this space for how long?”

“For 2 hours in 10 minute movements,” the Tech replied. “And up until this point we have received reflections that the Algo could interpret and plot?” “That’s correct” “Have the sent signals been normal?” “They were generated precisely according to Algo’s reading of recent patterns,” answered CeeU, taking over for the Tech. “And what percent of predicted features have been accounted for?” “Seventy four percent.” “Hmm . . that’s already within standard range for an area this fluid. Anything anomalous in the past soundings?” “Everything normal,” replied CeeU starting to become irritated at having to answer such obvious questions, questions he had already posed and answered himself. “So how is this new wave different and why doesn’t it match anything in the tables?” asked Xenoth, sensing that he better cut to the heart of the issue. “It is a pattern that we have no record of having encountered before,” replied the Tech. “Here, sit down, gateprentice,” said Emen. She had noticed how unsteady Xenoth was and had brought a stool. CeeU frowned at the pair wondering why a prentice would need to sit in Control. “Oh . . I’ve been exposed,” said Xenoth reluctantly, but saving Emen from having to report it to her superior. “Gatebuilder indeed,” remarked CeeU.

The ship began to shake, and the other Tech standing near a Control monitor said, “CeeU, we are receiving another new wave. Its like the first but looks a bit modulated. Shall I submit it to Algo?” “Certainly,” replied CeeU, irritated that the Tech would need to ask. The Tech gave several commands to the engine then waited for a few seconds. CeeU and Emen had gathered around the monitor while he worked. “Foreign Wave. Error in subroute REC309.4,” appeared in the monitor below a map of the wave. “Same problem as before,” said the Tech. “What’s the lookup for that error?” asked Xenoth who had hobbled over to join them. “It indicates a mismatch with known or expected reflective patterns,” replied the Tech. “And how is this wave different from the first you received?” asked Xenoth. “Seems modulated, but in some strange way. I’ll do a comparison,” said the Tech and issued a series of commands to the engine. The two waves appeared together on the monitor and a wash of color across them indicated that the comparison was being made. “Timeplace displacement indicates acceleration through pulsed propulsion,” the monitor read, giving the results of the comparison.

“Pulsed propulsion is only a theory,” said CeeU reminding Xenoth of the obvious. “What do you suggest now, Gatebuilder?” CeeU continued, the sarcasm of the title a clear threat to Xenoth. “I . . . I suggest that we engage in a share and debate group exercise to determine possibilities,” said Xenoth, fighting back the continued pain in his head. “Ha!” exclaimed CeeU. “Where do you think you are? That may be how you do things in school, but we don’t have time for such nonsense in a probe ship.” Even Emen lowered her eyes in embarrassment at Xenoth’s suggestion. Again Xenoth had a flash of memory that told him that this feeling was familiar, but the event itself was difficult to recall. “Gateprentice Xenoth. I formally take Control of all ship’s operations,” said CeeU with a half smile showing that he had been looking for an excuse to do so. Xenoth realized that he had just become an observer for the remainder of the trip. His release from the advisory role by the Chief Tech would indicate failure to the schoolmasters and his future as a gatebuilder was in serious jeopardy. “But Chief Tech CeeU, I have only suggested a process, one which the Guild finds valuable in many situations,” pleaded Xenoth. “I am in Control,” repeated CeeU, and Xenoth knew argument was futile. Emen escorted Xenoth first to Medical and then to his quarters in Living Space. “Perhaps he will reconsider, Gateprentice,” said Emen trying to soften the blow.

“No, I don’t think so, but thank you Emen” “I must return to finish my shift,” and as she left, Xenoth could hear the seal secured. She was only following procedures, he knew, but to be confined like a prisoner was too much to bear. Xenoth passed the time searching his memory for clues regarding what had happened in the real trip. “This must still be an illusion of the box,” he thought, but he could not remember the events and he could not communicate with Pax. Or perhaps Pax was choosing not to communicate with him. Maybe it was the exposure. Another wave struck the ship shaking everything and everyone aboard.

While Xenoth searched for answers alone in his quarters, CeeU and the other Techs were baffled by the newly received waves. The waves continued to modulate in a fashion that Algo said indicated pulsed-propulsive acceleration, but that wasn’t possible. No vessel existed that was so equipped. Even if it did, no one would dare take it into the corridor during a probe mission. It had to be something else. The volcanic matter in the area couldn’t reflect waves in such a manner. There was no explanation. But they needed one quickly. The sound waves continued to grow in intensity, so much so that the receive dampers were maxed out and were on the verge of collapse. The ship was already shaking violently with each wave that struck. “CeeU, we should turn,” said the female Tech. “Not until the chart is finished,” replied CeeU. “We cannot finish a chart without Receive,” she pointed out.

“I will say when to turn, Tech. Continue with your readings,” said CeeU angrily. “Dampers at 106 percent. Sound intensity at 1020 and increasing. Physdesys structural integrity threatened at 1025.” “Just the readings, Tech! I am aware of thresholds . . . Oh, bugs. 1020 . . Discontinue sounding. Hold steady,” commanded CeeU reluctantly. “If we can’t figure out what’s going on with this reflection, then we can’t continue to feed it. Tech, mark the most recent send. Maybe when the reflections stop we’ll at least have a clue as to which of our sends is involved.”

“Gateprentice, are you well?” “Emen. You shouldn’t come here. I am confined, and you could get in trouble with CeeU.” “CeeU is very busy. He hasn’t been able to determine what is causing the waves.” “Well, he better do so quickly. I can feel them hitting us more strongly each time.” “Yes, the ship can’t stand this much longer. We’ll have to turn soon,” said Emen. “You mean we are continuing forward?” “CeeU is stubborn. He will refuse to return without the chart.” “There won’t be a chart, or a ship if we continue.” “CeeU has stopped the sounding, and so the reflection should cease. I imagine he will send a few test waves of low intensity to try to determine . .”

A sound wave stronger than any previous struck the ship, and Xenoth and Emen were thrown to the floor.

“CeeU, we must turn,” cried the Tech from across Control. “That has to be the last. The feedback loop will dissipate. Hold position,” said CeeU regaining his footing and holding tight to a railing by the monitor. “Reading and comparison,” he commanded. “1022 . . and again unknown modulation . . attributed to pulsed-propul—” “Stop with the propulsion explanation. I know better,” interrupted CeeU. “We can blame the Gateprentice,” she pled, knowing that this would be attractive to CeeU. They could return without the chart and simply blame Xenoth for their misfortunes. “We will blame the gatestudent. But we’ll also return with the chart in spite of his incompetence.” Another wave struck the ship, throwing the Techs about and breaking busses and other equipment free from their moorings all over the ship.

Xenoth and Emen had just gotten up when the new wave hit and threw them to the floor again. This time they didn’t try to recover their feet. They lay on the floor and held on to the legs of Xenoth’s sleep tube. “But what if it isn’t a reflection?” asked Xenoth. “Uh. . what else could it be?” replied Emen. “I don’t know. But consider what we have assumed. We are in a very fluid area with forces that the Guild is just beginning to

understand. We are moving through this timespace in what we believe to be constant increments.” “And we will recreate those increments in reverse after the turn,” added Emen. “Right. Now we receive a reflection that cannot be explained and the algo tells us that pulsed-propulsive acceleration is involved. But we believe that no one has figured out a way to create the forces for this type of propulsion. Maybe there is something else going on. Maybe we are simply assuming something that we shouldn’t. What if our own rate of travel is not constant, say something in the area is causing our motion to be pulsed. Or what if the region somehow displaces timespace in a manner that the algo interprets as pulsed propulsion. And what if it is, in fact, a pulsed-propulsive force? What if it isn’t a reflection at all?” “Then we’re about to be destroyed,” concluded Emen.

“1023 . . CeeU please . . Physdesys cannot withstand this,”

pled the Tech recovering from the strongest wave yet. “Algo my friend, tell me why this is happening,” said CeeU, lost in thought as he entered commands to the engine.

“If it isn’t a reflection then what could it be?” asked Emen. “An independent source perhaps?” suggested Xenoth, doubting the idea as he spoke it. “Of course!” cried Emen, and she ran from Xenoth’s quarters leaving the seal unsecured. “Well, they’re going to kick me out anyway,” said Xenoth as he took advantage of the opening and ran after her. . or rather,

stumbled after her. He found that the effects of exposure were still strong.

“CeeU! It’s not a reflection. It’s a response to our message,” yelled Emen as she ran into Control. “Be quiet Tech. I have to concentrate. . Algo will save us,” replied CeeU not looking away from his monitor. “CeeU, look at me!” cried Emen pulling him away from the monitor. She could see the fear in his eyes and knew instantly that she would not be able to reach him in time. He was too scared and confused to listen to reason. Emen ran to another monitor as CeeU simply stared into space and repeated, “Algo will save us.” Her entries to the engine were quick and precise:

• EMEN, TECH CLASS1B, ASSUME CONTROL; CLEARANCE: XCUT-7 • TREAT RECEIVED AS NEW FORM • ANALYZE AS WORD MESSAGE • UNKNOWN LANGUAGE--TRANSLATE

After a second that seemed to last years, the engine responded “WHO?” Another even stronger wave struck the ship, throwing the Techs across the room. Power flashed off then on again as emergency backups took over. “1024 . . structural integrity breach with next wave,” the male Tech shouted as they recovered and scanned the monitors. “What does it mean?” asked Xenoth looking over Emen’s shoulder.

“I don’t . . . Yes! Yes I do!” said Emen. She entered: • REPLY: PROBE SHIP PHYSDESYS--IN PAIN

Xenoth could hear the sound engine send the message. They sat staring at the monitor, waiting for the sound wave to strike and for their ship to be destroyed. When it came after a long wait, they dropped to the floor and threw their arms over their heads, but the ship remained intact and the wave was far less intense than they feared. “1016 . . I don’t understand,” said the Tech. Emen entered:

• TRANSLATE ALL FURTHER “WHY PAIN?” appeared on her monitor.

• REPLY: INTENSITY OF YOUR MESSAGE HURTS US

“WHO?” came the reply, at a lower intensity. “What’s happening? What is the algo saying?” asked Xenoth. “It’s not the algo. We have company,” said Emen. As she looked up to speak to Xenoth, she could see that CeeU was watching the messages on his monitor and beginning to understand. “I can resume, Tech Emen,” CeeU said unsteadily, not as an order but as a wish. Rather than risk humiliating him, Emen complied and entered the command to return Control to him.

• REPLY: WE ARE THE PROBE SHIP PHYSDESYS, CHARTING THIS REGION FOR THE GATING

GUILD. I AM CHIEF TECH CEEU, IN CONTROL OF THE PHYSDESYS ALGO..

“HELLO PHYSDESYS, WE ARE WANDERERS.” Xenoth woke to find himself lying in bed in his quarters. He

had passed out in Control soon after communication with the Wanderers had begun. The effects of exposure, combined with being thrown about by the incoming sound waves, had taken their toll. He hoped that it had not been another long sleep, like after the Natursys forest. There was so much to learn about what had happened. The excitement of meeting a new intelligent species. Surely his assistance would make up for his previous failures. Well, maybe not. CeeU had been so unreasonable. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, and after some testing found that he could stand and walk. “A good wash perhaps,” he thought as he walked to the sink. “Ugh . . you look terrible,” he said glancing into the mirror above the sink. “You should see yourself!” said the face in the mirror. “Aahh .. ,” he cried jumping away. “Pax, it’s you.” “Who did you think it was? Some ugly wanderer?” said Pax. Xenoth walked toward the mirror again and realized that there were two faces, his own and that of Pax. He looked around to where Pax should be for him to be reflected as he was, but Xenoth found that he was alone in the room. He even tried to look behind the mirror to see if it was a trick, some sort of window/mirror combination. It wasn’t.

“You’re in a prison box, remember?” said Pax seeing Xenoth’s absurd search. “But we’re aboard Physdesys. How could we be sharing this?” asked Xenoth. “I’m here. You’re here. What’s the difference?” said Pax shrugging his shoulders and sitting down on Kith. Then the sink seemed to disappear and the ‘mirror’ covered the entire wall. The image was an exact reflection of Xenoth’s quarters, but it included Pax and Kith. “Another good story,” complimented Pax. “But it wasn’t just a story from memory. It was new. I was . .” “Purposes!” shouted Pax, and Kith bellowed along. “Stop yelling at me,” Xenoth said, quickly covering his ears. Then he realized that he did not need to cover his ears because the pain of exposure was gone. The Wanderer’s technique, developed to compensate for the tremendous pressures generated by their pulsed propulsion, was very effective. The Wanderers? It all came flooding back to him. The Wanderers were sea creatures who travelled by filling huge internal cavities with water and violently expelling the water in rearward pulses. They communicated to one another, and after contact with the crew of Physdesys, with humans, by vibrating their entire outer skin as a sort of giant speaker. The combination of powerful waves sent outward in all directions from central sources and the pulsing movement had made their messages uninterpretable by the ship’s algorithm. They had learned all this about the Wanderers before they had turned to

bring their chart back to Klasrum. On the return trip Xenoth had helped CeeU and the other Techs revise the algo to include the possibility of Wanderers. The Techs had even taken some of his advice on how their jobs might better fit with the functioning of the sound engine based on a clearer sense of how their reasoning processes were different from the algo. On their return to Klasrum he had convinced his teachers to reconsider the purposes of the training exercise, extending those purposes from charting and practice in spatio-temporal dynamics to possible engagement and sharing with new species. The teachers had helped him understand how this work had created a new gate, Xenoth 1, and he had thus begun his career as a gatebuilder. “It wasn’t new. I remember it all now,” said Xenoth, excited to find his memories restored. “It must have been the exposure after all.” “Nope,” said Pax as a matter of fact. “What do you mean?” “It’s the box. It makes you think you’re living.” “You mean it takes away my memory only to give it back again?” “You could look at it that way. One thing to always remember. This is a prison, and no fake life is going to change that.” Nothing changed in the room as far as Xenoth could tell, but he realized that he was, in fact, back in the box. The rest of Physdesys was not through the seal. It was gone in his past. Emen and CeeU and all the other Techs of Physdesys had been lost on

their very next trip. A gatestudent error no less. “If only I could have warned them,” he thought, making the pain of the memory worse. “You ought to have something to eat,” said Pax. “Yes you’re right. It’s been a while I guess. How long this time?” “About a week.” Xenoth walked to the foodstore area and found the new supplies. Then realizing that Pax’s presence had somehow triggered the return of his memories, he asked “Pax, how did you know about purposes . . Pax?” When no response came, Xenoth turned to see if Pax had fallen asleep. The old man had disappeared from the image.

Chapter 5. The Clover Field First make it in your mind

“I can see the river and the forest. Now the city is coming into

focus. Hey! Turn the lights back on!” “Continue working, Xenoth.” “ But how? I can’t see what I’m doing.” “Use your mind. We can take ourselves only to places we can

image, and we can make with our hands only what we can see in our dreams.”

“Huh? Hey, move over. You’re heavy.” Xenoth woke to find Kith lying up against him. “Come on Kith, I can’t breath.” “Rrrgh,” growled the rocat as she rolled over. Xenoth sat up and looked around. He was in a large field of grass. No, not grass, it was clover. The rocat and he were at the edge of the clover field, laying outside a small hut. The sun was low in the sky and had begun to burn away the night’s moisture from the ground. Xenoth could feel the dampness in his clothes, at least in the areas that Kith had not covered. “Oh weeds, I’ve slept late again,” said Xenoth leaping to his feet. “Demiou will make me work overtime if I’m not ready for search.” He ran behind the hut to the small pool, threw off his clothes and jumped in. “YIKE!” he shouted. He’d jumped into the pool every morning for three months, but the cold water was always a shock. Nearly as quickly as he had jumped in, he climbed out, grabbed his

clothes, and sprinted into the hut. Inside he could see that his bed was still made from the day before. “Well, that will save me the trouble today,” he thought. Demiou told him to spend evenings studying the star patterns, but she had not meant for him to fall asleep on the ground. He brushed a towel over his back and front, not drying himself well, but taking most of the cold water before it ran to the floor. He threw on a new set of clothes, then reached into the food container for some fruit, thinking that he might get a few bites before Demiou arrived. “Ahem.” No such luck. Mistress Gatebuilder Demiou stood in the doorway of the hut. “Late again prentice?” “I’m sorry, Mistress. I studied the star patterns late into the night.” “For how long before you fell asleep in the grass?” “For at least two . . . uh.” He wondered how could she tell so easily. Maybe she had just looked at the bed that was still made.

“I’m ready for search,” he said, knowing that was the only thing he could say in the situation. Demiou turned and walked down the steps of the hut toward the field of clover. “Which square, Xenoth?” “Today is the twenty-first day of the third month, so square 81.” The Mistress and Gateprentice walked along the edge of the field until they came to a pile of three stones, marking the third month. Demiou stepped back and let Xenoth get into position for

his leaps. Twenty one leaps of exactly six feet each. It would have been impossible for him to make the leaps accurately just a few months ago. Now it was second nature. Xenoth made the leaps and Demiou followed behind, meeting him at the 81st square. There Xenoth turned and faced the Mistress. Demiou closed her eyes and stood perfectly still for several minutes, letting her mind wander freely. Xenoth tried to do the same, but couldn’t help thinking that it was a waste of time. She always asked him what technique they should use, and he always responded the same. “How shall we search today, Gateprentice Xenoth?” “An S-shaped pattern on one knee.” “A good choice, but the same as every other day,” replied Demiou. “If we don’t use the same pattern every day, we are bound to miss the 4-leaf,” said Xenoth. Demiou nodded acknowledgment, not necessarily agreement, and stepped to the center of one side of the square. Xenoth stepped to the center of the opposite side. They each dropped to one knee and began searching for the four-leaf clover.

After precisely one hour, they met in the center of the square. Demiou stood, turned back toward the side of the field and walked away. Xenoth followed as always. He tried to guess which square they would find 4-leaf in. Each day cut the number of squares remaining, so it wouldn’t be too long now.

When they returned to the hut, Demiou turned to Xenoth and said, “You’ll search the field on your own from now on. I will return when you are finished.” “Yes, Mistress.” He wasn’t very excited that it was going to take him twice as long without Demiou’s help. But he wouldn’t have to get up so early either. He could sleep as late as he liked just so long as the search of a square and all his other tasks were finished. On the other hand, his tasks were getting more and more tedious, and he was looking forward to finding the 4-leaf and moving on in his training. “How will you know when I’ve found the 4-leaf?” he asked. “Why do you need to know?” Demiou answered. “Well, because I won’t know what to do then.” Xenoth had grown extremely fond of Demiou, but he didn’t like how she always seemed to answer a question with another question. “You needn’t worry. To your duties now,” she commanded, and with that she turned and walked away.

Through third month and into fourth, Xenoth followed the pattern precisely. There was only one more month, and so he was sure to find the 4-leaf soon. As fourth month came to an end, however, he started to grow impatient. “It must be the very last square,” he mumbled. “Demiou will return at the end of fifth month just after I find the 4-leaf in the last square.” And so on the last morning of fourth month, instead of searching the square for that day, he went directly to the last square of fifth month and searched there. But the 4-leaf was not there either. He worried that Demiou would learn that he had broken the

sequence, and so the next day he got up early and searched both the square for the present day and the day before. He didn’t find the 4-leaf, but he did discover that he could search two squares and still have time for his other tasks. By searching two squares a day, he would find the 4-leaf twice as fast. So from that day forward, he searched two squares per day, getting faster and faster as he went. He finished searching all the squares in the next 15 days—without finding the 4-leaf. “What am I going to do now, Kith?” he said, wishing that the rocat could actually help him. “Demiou will be back at the end of the month, and I don’t have a 4-leaf to show her.” Xenoth went about his other tasks for the rest of the day, but as he lay studying the star patterns that night, he could think only of the 4-leaf and of what he was going to say to Demiou. In the morning, he walked to the edge of the clover field and stared out over the squares. He imagined somehow attaching a fourth leaf to a 3-leaf, but knew that Demiou would never be fooled. “I must have missed it, Kith,” he said to the rocat that lay by him at the edge of the field. “I must have rushed too fast and missed the 4-leaf somewhere in this last month of squares. I’ll have to do fifth month again.” Xenoth spent the next 15 days searching fifth-month squares, once again two per day to be able to finish on schedule. As the days ran out, and still no 4-leaf had been found, he began to panic. He was sure that they would end his prenticeship. He would never become a gatebuilder. But fifth month ended, and Demiou did not return.

“She’s given me a reprieve, Kith,” he said to the rocat. Kith glanced up, looked at Xenoth for a moment, then returned to her nap. Taking advantage of the extra time, Xenoth decided to search earlier squares. Of course, he would only search the areas he himself had covered. A Mistress Gatebuilder such as Demiou could not have missed the 4-leaf. After nearly another month of this, he still had not found the 4-leaf and was losing all patience. He had become less systematic in selecting squares, so he did not know which he had searched only once, and which he had searched more than once. He had abandoned the S-shaped search pattern, not by conscious choice but out of frustration. Finally, one morning he could not bring himself to search the field. He lay in bed the entire day staring at the roof of the hut without any idea of how he could find the 4-leaf before Demiou’s return. That night he tried to study the stars, but could think only of the clover field. He fell asleep on the ground alongside Kith and dreamed that he was out in the field searching. The vision of the 4-leaf came to him in the night. He could see that it was two steps from the corner of the 23rd square of second month. A large 4-leaf standing out separate from all the surrounding 3-leafs. He didn’t need to search. All he needed to do was reach down and pluck it from the field. He did so, and as he held the 4-leaf up to the sky, he felt the wisdom of the Gating Guild flood into him. Xenoth awoke with the vision clear in his mind. He shoved Kith off his side and raced out to the field without washing or

eating. There in the 23rd square his 4-leaf would be waiting. He made the 23 leaps in second-month squares and took two steps from the corner. He had only to reach down and pluck the clover from the ground and hold it up to the sky and feel the wisdom flood . . but it was not a 4-leaf. “Aaaaugh weeds!” he cried. Maybe he had grabbed the wrong one. He started to pluck the clover from the field around the one he had taken. He held each one to the light, but all were 3-leafs. Before he could stop himself, he had ripped up an area as wide as he was tall. “Oh no, Demiou will surely send me away now. I’ve destroyed the square.” Dejected and sure that his career as a gatebuilder was lost, he walked back to the hut. Xenoth did none of his tasks that day. What was the point if he would be dismissed anyway. That night he lay in the grass with Kith, sure that it would be his last night as a gateprentice. As he gazed upward, he began to see the sky as a flat cover over his world rather than a field of stars. It was an oppressive view, one that made him feel imprisoned and barely able to move. But in another way, it provided him with a greater sense of place. When he finally fell asleep, the vision came again. The 23rd square of second month, two steps from the corner . . a large 4-leaf, held to the sky . . the flood of wisdom. “Rrrrrgg,” rumbled Kith waking Xenoth from his sleep. “What is it, Kith?” he asked, but Kith remained silent and seemed to have spoken in her sleep. He lay back and again saw the night sky as a cover. But this time, he was drawn to a certain sector and star pattern. He was stunned to realize two things simultaneously. First, the star pattern was just

about where the 23rd square of second month would be if the sky were the clover field. And second, the pattern was that of a 4-leaf. “It’s not in the field, it’s in the sky!” he shouted, and Kith opened an eye to see what the fuss was all about. “But what does it mean?” he asked, expecting the flood of wisdom to come. He thought about his searching of the clover field and the technique he had selected. He tried to recall things that Demiou had said to him. He thought about his studies of the star patterns. But when morning came, he still had no answers. The 4-leaf star pattern had fallen below the horizon hours ago, and now the night sky had given way to daylight. He continued sitting on the ground with his back against Kith, looking out over the clover field. He was completely confused. So what if a star pattern looked like a 4-leaf. It wasn’t real. It had probably been a dream, and when Demiou arrived he would still have nothing to show. “Your search has ended I assume?” asked Demiou. She stood behind Xenoth and the rocat and noted from Xenoth’s disheveled appearance that he had not been to bed or washed himself. Probably had not eaten either. “Yes . . well . . . no,” said Xenoth without looking around. His time was up. He would confess to destroying the square and pack his things and leave without argument. “I’ve destroyed a square.” “I see. Show me which one.” Xenoth stood and walked out to the field. Demiou followed behind. Xenoth did not make the leaps. They weren’t necessary as he could see the bare spot in the square all the way from the edge

of the field. Perhaps she would ask him to replant it before he left. It was only fair since he had done the damage. But it would be a bitter task, ending his time with the Gatebuilders by creating a field for some other prentice to search. As they reached the square, Xenoth saw that one clover had escaped his destructive hands. Off to the side of the bare patch, amidst the scattered 3-leafs that he had torn up, a single clover stood out and taunted him—reminded him of what he had done. It would be even harder to replant if he had to work around a surviving clover, so he reached down to pull it out. He would replant it among the 3-leafs at the edge. But as he grabbed the stem, his eyes jumped wide. It was a 4-leaf. “Congratulations, Gatebuilder,” said Demiou, smiling down at him and signaling with the ‘gatebuilder’ title that his time with her was at an end and that she was confident that he would succeed in his final assignment and become a builder. “But it wasn’t here, it was in the sky!” blurted out Xenoth before he could think about what had happened. “It must have grown in the night.” But he knew that wasn’t possible. It must have been there all along and he had missed it. Maybe he had trampled it as he ripped up the others. No, that didn’t make sense. This 4-leaf stood alone and undamaged. And sure enough, as he glanced to the corner of the square he could see that it was precisely where it had been in his vision. “You’re confused Xenoth?” asked Demiou seeing the surprised look on his face and the way he looked about.

“Yes, Mistress. I have to confess that I didn’t know that this 4-leaf was here, at least I didn’t think it was really here. I saw it in a dream, but when I came out to the field I found only 3-leafs. Then I saw it in the sky. . . but as you can see, I didn’t treat the field well when I couldn’t find it.” “You’ll need to repair the damage before you leave.” “Of course, I’ll do it right now,” replied Xenoth feeling embarrassed by what he had done, but at the same time filled with excitement at moving on in his training. “Good dreams to you,” said Demiou and she began to walk away. “Thank you, Mist . . but Mistress Demiou, I have so many questions,” said Xenoth grasping the significance of her words and realizing that she was leaving him for the last time. Demiou stopped and turned back. “What questions may I answer?” she said. Xenoth could hear it coming. He would ask questions and she would respond with other questions. He knew that he always learned more that way . . but maybe this time was different. “I don’t understand how the 4-leaf grew overnight,” he said. “You made space for it. What other questions do you have?” Xenoth had to think quickly. He hadn’t expected such a straightforward answer, and he knew that he would miss the opportunity to ask other questions if he tried to make sense of it now. “Uh . . is the sky a clover field?” he asked, trying to come up with a question about his dream but not finding the right words.

“Yes and no. What else?” “I don’t know what you mean. Yes sometimes and no others? Yes in some ways and no in other ways?” “No and yes.” “Uh . .” “Let me explain, Xenoth,” said Demiou. “At last,” he thought, “an explanation without a question.” “We build gates in fields of clover and in fields of stars. It depends on what the people and their worlds need. Our gates may be planted in the ground or elsewhere, but they are first in our minds.” Demiou could see that Xenoth was beginning to grasp these important gating concepts. She was so proud of him. Of course, she could not show it. “What other questions do you have?” “Well, I don’t mean to complain Mistress, but why did we search the field every day when the location of the 4-leaf would appear to me in a dream?” “Your dreams cannot take you where you are not prepared to go, Xenoth. It was the daily search that made your dream possible. As you searched the field, your mind readied itself to find the 4-leaf.” “But for so many months? I’d given up. I couldn’t follow the pattern, and at the end, I couldn’t even go to the field.” “The discipline of the pattern was important. But equally important was knowing when the pattern wouldn’t help any more.” “You said that it was a good pattern.”

“Yes, a good choice. It seems so, at least, since you did find a 4-leaf. But one never knows if a good choice will lead to the 4-leaf. A good pattern is good preparation for the dream. But it isn’t itself a dream,” said Demiou. She knew that it would take Xenoth some time to understand this more deeply, so she thought it best to move along. “I should mention also that I suspect you had to stay away from the field in order for the dream to happen.” “What do you mean?” asked Xenoth. “The search gets you ready, but often the dream won’t come until you stay away from the field for a while. You have to give it space . . like you made space for the 4-leaf here in the field.” Xenoth knew that he would have many questions soon enough, but he couldn’t think of them quickly. He could feel the tears start to build at the edges of his eyes. He knew that he would probably never see Demiou again. “May I keep the 4-leaf for luck, Mistress?” “No, 4-leafs are so rare. We should let it continue to grow and reproduce.” Xenoth knew she was right. Demiou seeing his sadness added “But the 4-leaf will always be with you . . in the sky and in your mind. It’s a powerful tool for you to carry with you, and certainly more than mere luck.” Demiou knew that it was time to go. She had just one more answer to give, and it was to a question Xenoth had not yet asked. “You have studied well, Xenoth. You have begun to master the 3 leaves of viewing, doing, and using. Now you have added the fourth leaf—that of building. Dream wonderful gates, dear

Xenoth.” And with that wish, the first she had ever ended with such affection, Demiou turned and walked from the field, hopeful that Xenoth would find a new and powerful path.

DO

praxis USE

techne

BUILD

poiesis VIEW

theoria

The 4-leaf “Braauugh,” roared Kith as she ran through Xenoth’s legs, knocking him to the ground. Or rather, to the floor. As Xenoth regained his feet and looked about, he found himself in the prison box. It still had the appearance of the clover field, but he knew he was in the box with Kith and Pax awaiting his trial. “A good tale, my friend,” said Pax walking out from behind the illusion of the hut. “Hello, Pax . . Pax? I . . I’ve just been a gateprentice. I was with Demiou in the last stage of my prenticeship, at the clover field and . .” His memory of the field and of all the other events of his life came back. “Pax, I was there. I relived it. It wasn’t just a memory. I was young. I was a prentice with none of the memories of life since.”

Pax simply walked past and said “You have to watch out. That rocat’ll keep knocking you off your feet if you’re not careful.” “Kith! Kith, it’s you! You were there!”

Chapter 6. The Factory Ground it in users’ experience

A lovely new gate, Xenoth. Well proportioned and attractive to

the eye. Now destroy it. Destroy it? But why? Because you created it for yourself rather than for the travelers

who must use it. “So Kith was there and now she’s here. Big deal,” said Pax getting annoyed at Xenoth’s persistent questions. “But Pax, how can Kith be here with us in this box? She died years ago on the BoundRE Ice.” “How would I know such things?” “Did she come here with you? Has she been with you long?” “Forever, it seems. Let’s get away from this field. It was a good story, but I’m tired of it.” “Pax, wait, don’t you understand? Dent found her and gave her to me as a kitten. Kith was with me for more than a century. But when they threw me in here with you, I didn’t even recognize her.” “Zeros at ValU. 37 degrees West 45 degrees Nor . .” “Hey! Not so fast, old man! I want to know how Kith got here with you. She and I were together all the way back to the factories where I began my studies.” A flash of another world came and went.

“Not there!” shouted Pax. “37 degrees West 45 degrees . .” “Kith, you remember the factories don’t you?” asked Xenoth. “Aaaaaagggg,” cried Pax throwing his hands over his eyes.

“Wake up 83!” shouted the overseer Teech, prodding Xenoth in the back with a chawk stick.

“Huh? Oh . . time for work,” said Xenoth, not wanting to get out of bed. But it was better than feeling what Teech would do with the chawk if he used it for real. While Teech woke the others,

Xenoth rolled out of bed and headed for the bath at the end of the barracks. If he got there quick, he’d be able to dress and get to the front of the mess line. Mess food certainly was not something to look forward to, but getting to the mess early meant getting to the work line early as well, and that meant a station farther away from Teech in the shop. “Morning Dent,” Xenoth said to the worker next to him in line. He and his friend Dent had this down to a science. At least they thought they did. They were eighth and ninth in line. Not too early to look like grovelers, but not so late that they’d end up close to Teech in the shop. “Morning Xenoth,” Dent said softly, looking around to make sure no overseer was near enough to hear them. They knew not to use each other’s name in front of an overseer. Here everything was numbers. You answered to your number. You punched in at the shop by your number. You were paid your token salary by your number. They marched into the mess and gave their numbers. “37,” said Dent. “That’s 2 rolls and 4 samples,” said the mess worker, handing him his tray of prescribed food. “Great,” he replied with a large smile. The worker shot him an angry look. Dent was okay, but his sarcasm was going to get him in trouble one day. Ever since they had switched to the new system, the food was so bland they could hardly eat it. It was supposed to be better for

them, but what awful tastes! He wondered if the idiot who had come up with the system had ever eaten any of the food himself. “83,” said Xenoth. “1 roll, 3 samples, and a pie.” “Hey, how’d you rate dessert?” complained Dent seeing the pie on Xenoth’s tray. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s that kiss I gave Teech yesterday,” Xenoth joked. They tried hard, but couldn’t keep themselves from laughing out loud. Luckily, none of the overseers saw or heard. They’d have been cleaning the stables for sure if they had. “Rt today,” stated Dent confidently as they sat on the bench to eat. “Yeh, you’re going to win today,” replied Xenoth. Chances were very low that they would win the jousts, though, so neither of them really let their hopes up. When they were new to the factory, they had expected Rtime regularly. But it was canceled whenever their team lost the jousts, which was almost all the time.

Xenoth had been quite an Rtist before coming to Klasrum. He had made up some interesting moves, and had created a few very interesting sounds. But he was out of practice now, and the factory work was making it more and more difficult for him to move. What would his mother think now? Did she know what she was getting him into sending him to gateschool? He suspected that she probably did. “I’ll be so proud of you,” she had said, meaning she’d be proud when Teech and the others had changed him into something better.

“Form up!” shouted Teech. A good thing they had been at the front of the mess line. As it was, they had to stuff the last bites of their food into their mouths as they ran to the work line. “Eleventh and twelfth,” thought Xenoth as he looked down the line. Still not too bad. They marched out of the mess and down the hall. As they passed the auditorium, Xenoth recalled the weeks of standing recitation they had given there. Training had started with memorization of the production procedures. The overseer had shouted the phrases, and they had shouted them back. Over and over until they could repeat all the procedures by themselves. “Still don’t know what they mean,” mumbled Xenoth. Across the yard, they entered the shop area. As they passed the clock, workers took their numbered cards from the OUT rack, punched in at the clock, and put their cards in the IN rack. Then they moved quickly from the clock to get to their work area for 1st Clang. 1st CLG, actually. It stood for Changing Labor Group, but the workers called them clangs after the bell sounds that started each one. Xenoth and Dent took advantage of their places in line. As they entered the work room, they hustled to positions as far as possible away from where Teech would sit to watch their work. But not too far from the doorway to the next area, or else they would be farther back in line when it came time to move for 2nd Clang. “CLANG,” the bell sounded once to signal 1st CLG. The workers stood at their positions and as soon as Teech gave the

signal, they recited the gatebuilders pledge, then the procedure for the production area.

Gatebuilder’s Pledge Hearts open free through pillars and key stone by stone we build our gates

Procedure 1 One requir one strat requir stone strat stone make plan hold arch tie image groun

The overseers always seemed to refer to the pledge and procedures when they criticized the workers products, but neither Xenoth nor Dent, nor any of the other workers for that matter, really knew what they meant. Xenoth wondered if the overseers even knew, but he certainly wouldn’t be the one to find out. Work began immediately after the recitation. Here they would build a gate part called a requir. As far as Xenoth knew if was a simple block of stone with holes in some places and pins sticking out in others. He had learned to make them by looking at one that he found lying under his desk and by watching other workers when Teech wasn’t around. They made requirs of several different sizes, but other than that, the parts were all the same. Xenoth had asked Teech what the requirs did, and how they fit in with other parts, but Teech had just gotten angry and told him that he would learn when he was more worthy of such knowledge.

Xenoth hadn’t asked many more questions after that. He figured that he wouldn’t get an answer and would probably be put in his place again anyway. He didn’t understand why he needed to be put in his place. What was a place anyway? “I don’t know this stuff, but I’m not stupid,” he had complained to Dent. “Why couldn’t Teech just answer my question?” Dent and Xenoth watched the clock out of the corner of their eyes. As it came closer to 2nd CLG, they began stalling on their requirs. They had to time it just right to be next to the bin when the bell went off. That way they could step right into line. “CLANG-CLANG” went the bell signaling the start of 2nd CLG. The workers ran from their positions to line up. Teech pulled a couple of them back to clean up the work they had left undone. Xenoth and Dent were right next to the bin putting in the completed requirs, so they stepped directly into the line. As they marched to the next work area, Teech came up alongside Dent. “Seven requirs today, 37?” “Yesir,” answered Dent knowing that he had met quota. “Eight tomorrow.” “But Teech . .” “Eight tomorrow, and nine the next day if I see you timing it again.” Dent knew better than to complain any more. “Eight for you as well, 83,” said Teech. Xenoth had thought he had gotten away with it.

The workers took up positions in the next work area and recited the procedure for making strats.

“Why does Teech pick on us? Everybody times it once in a while,” said Dent. “Shut up, you want extra strats as well?” warned Xenoth. “Well, he picks on us all the time,” whispered Dent. “He’s just ticked that he has to watch us miserable grNts make requirs and strats all the time,” whispered back Xenoth, looking around to make sure that the overseer wasn’t watching. “If he wasn’t such a stoner maybe they’d let him watch imagekeys.” “I heard that that’s not how it works. He’s got to spend a half-dozen years watching grNts before they’ll let him watch smRts.” “Hey, who you calling a grNt?” asked Dent. “You ya stoner. You’re a grNt, and so am I. Why do you think one of us ends up cleaning the stables all the time?” “Yeh, well you don’t have to remind me.” “Well if you don’t shut up . .” “37, front and center,” commanded Teech. He had seen them talking, but had let it go, until they stopped working and just talked. “Well, young strat. Will we be seeing you joust this afternoon?” Teech asked, a clear threat that he would choose someone else to take Dent’s turn. “Yes Teech,” Dent replied. “And will we be having Rt?” the overseer challenged. “Yes Teech, Rt today,” Dent said defiantly.

“Well 37, if you are so confident, then perhaps we’ll have a hero among us.” A hero was a worker who had the courage to joust without a helmet, a very dangerous thing to do. “Don’t do it!” shouted Xenoth. But his shout was drowned out by the other workers. “Hayho 37! Stonem 37! A hero for us today!” they cried. Dent stood steadily, trying hard not to expose his fear. To back down now would be to let Teech humiliate him in front of the others. “Rt today,” he repeated, and the workers cheered. Xenoth simply stared at him, angry at what his friend’s pride could easily cost.

Lunch was the same as usual for most. The mess worker had heard that Dent would ride unprotected, so he added a pie to Dent’s tray. “Last meal?” Dent asked the worker. “So why bother eating at all?” replied the worker, angry that Dent couldn’t even say thanks for the dessert. Xenoth and Dent were at the end of the line so they had to sit near the overseers. Xenoth was still angry with his friend. But they had been through a lot together, and all of the work group knew that Dent wasn’t a good rider. Maybe he’d do okay if the other rider wasn’t good either. “So what will you do at Rtime today?” Xenoth asked, trying to give Dent some confidence. “I’ll make my coffin,” replied Dent bitterly.

“Come on. You’ll do fine. Maybe a few bruises or something.” “Or something . . like a broken neck,” said Dent.

Nobody jousted without getting hurt. The giant rocats ran too fast and the riders were either too scared to relax or too crazy to protect themselves well. When they thrust the rams at each other, there was nothing but crashing arms and legs and feet and heads. Dent could remember the last two times someone from their work group had jousted. Both workers had lost and both had been hurt. Neither had returned to the lines. Nobody asked, because nobody wanted to know. “Your hero, 37!” shouted Teech standing at the end of the mess and raising his glass in salute. The workers all stood and raised their glasses as well. “37,” they shouted together. Then the overseer escorted Dent to the jousting field. “We have many past workers and sponsors here today,” said Teech. “If you should win, our factory stands to gain new machines and gate contracts. More than that, we will be able to place our banner atop the Guild pole until the next joust,” he added thinking that it would instill greater pride in the rider. “Who cares?” thought Dent, “I just don’t want to get killed.” The jousting field was circled with the workers from Dent’s factory and from his opponent’s factory. To the sides of the collision point were the past workers and gate sponsors, all decked out in their suits and gowns. The sound engine blared from one side of the field. Dent could see the rocats being led from the stable area off to the other.

“Your opponent, 37,” said Teech pointing to another worker being escorted to the field. “Oh stones,” said Dent, recognizing the veteran jouster. It was 196—Joc the monster. A huge boy, even though he was no older than Dent. He and Xenoth had watched Joc win his last six jousts and knew that he needed only one more win to retire as a champion. As Joc came closer, Dent could barely keep himself from breaking down. He had no hope. They might as well not explain the rules. They loved a champion, so they would let Joc get away with anything today. Sensing his worker’s fear, Teech nonchalantly put his arm around Dent’s shoulder—not to comfort him but to keep him from running away. “Look, hero 37, your parents are here to see you joust.” Dent looked up in the crowd and saw his mother and father smiling and waving to him. He raised his hand and gave a slight wave back to them. “Now now, 37,” said Teech seeing Dent’s glance over to the helmet he could wear if he chose. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your parents and the factory would you?” “You don’t fool me Teech. Joc can have his championship. I won’t wear a helmet, but I’m jumping out,” Dent said defiantly. That was the plan he had worked out with Xenoth during lunch. When the two riders met at full speed and were supposed to strike at each other, Dent would make it easy for his opponent to win by leaping off the rocat making it look like the other worker had made a clean hit. Sure, the other rider would win, but Dent might not get too badly hurt.

“You do that, and 83 will be our next hero,” Teech sneered giving Xenoth’s number. There was no choice then. Dent couldn’t betray his friend to Teech or anybody. He would have to try to win the joust. He couldn’t imagine how he could come up with enough force from his small body to push Joc off, but maybe he could strike some sort of glancing blow that the monster wouldn’t expect. The two riders were taken to opposite ends of the field, and they climbed aboard their rocats. “Grrrnnnt,” growled the rocat as Dent grabbed hold of the straps. A rocat could sense a rider’s inexperience in a second. The sound engine went silent, and the Master Gatebuilder sent by the Guild gave the signal for the joust to begin. Dent’s rocat leapt away almost hurtling Dent to the ground. Faster and faster the animal sprinted toward the center of the field. Dent could hear the roar of the crowd to his sides but could think only of how he could survive the impending collision. He could see Joc aboard the back of his rocat, getting larger and more fierce looking as the two came closer and closer together. The collision point was only yards away when Dent saw Joc take his straps in a single hand and set himself for the thrust. The monster let out a scream that went straight through Dent’s heart. Dent screamed as well. “HEELLP!!” he cried as he collapsed flat on the rocat’s back and held on for dear life. He felt Joc’s ram sail over his head and the other rocat fly by his side. As he realized what he’d done, he looked backward to see Joc turning and screaming insults after him. Something about “coward” no doubt.

A few past workers hid their giggles while most of the sponsors shouted angrily about Dent’s factory having to pay for his act. Dent was still trembling as they brought him back to the starting point. There stood Teech holding Xenoth by the arm. Dent knew what this meant. He would ride again and fight Joc, or Xenoth would have to do so in his place. “I can do it,” he said. “No Dent. Let me,” Xenoth offered. But before there could be any discussion, Dent kicked into the Rocat’s side and held tight as the animal sprinted down the field. Joc had just turned when he saw his opponent starting before the signal was given. He drove his heels into the rocat below him, determined to make the miserable coward pay for spoiling his championship ride. The two rocats were warmed up by the first pass and ran faster than ever. As they approached the collision point, Dent did his best to set himself for the thrust. Then as the two riders screamed and sent the rams at each other, Dent’s feet slipped out from under him. It happened too fast for the crowd to see. It looked like Joc had made the most magnificent score ever. Dent simply flew back in the direction from which he had rode. But in truth, Dent’s slip had sent him slamming into Joc’s rocat, and it was the huge animal that had sent him flying. Joc had simply flown through the air above. Joc was paraded about by his fellow factory workers and celebrated as a great champion. Dent was carried away as his fellows were quickly ushered back to their factory.

There was no Rt that day, or any other day for the next two weeks in Xenoth’s factory. The workers had to put in 6 CLGs a day rather than 5. Teech said it was because the factory was having to make do with fewer resources. He complained of the other overseer’s jeers, but the workers could think only about what had happened to Dent. Xenoth had started to ask about Dent once, but was cut off. Teech threatened that he would be next if he tried to pursue it. But Dent was his friend and, in the end, had sacrificed himself for him. There had to be a way of finding out what had happened. From a dangerous bribe of another overseer, Xenoth learned that Dent was still on Klasrum, in a hospital not far from the jousting field. He was determined to see his friend one more time. So late one night, he sneaked out of the barracks and made his way to the hospital. At the agreed upon time and place, the overseer came through on his end of the bribe and snuck Xenoth up to Dent’s room. The lights were low, but Xenoth could see some of Dent’s belongings in a corner of the room. His friend lay in bed, apparently sound asleep. “Dent, it’s me Xenoth,” he whispered. Dent didn’t move. “Dent . . Dent,” Xenoth said a little louder as he approached the bed. “Aaaauuhh,” Dent moaned. “Shhhh, be quiet. I’m not supposed to be here.” Xenoth stepped up to the side of the bed and looked down into Dent’s face. “Huhhh,” he gasped at the sight. Dent’s skull had been crushed and

then reconstructed. He had apparently hit his head square into the thick hide of the rocat. The bandages covered all but his mouth and one ear. Dent breathed with an awful rasping noise and was apparently not able to move any of his limbs. Xenoth was too afraid to lift the sheet to see what condition the rest of Dent’s body was in. “Dent? Can you hear me?” “Uuuuh . . Xen . .” “Yes, it’s me Xenoth.” “Go away . . catch you . . make you . . ride . .” “Oh Dent, I’m so sorry,” and Xenoth could feel the tears run down his cheeks. “Take care . . Kith.” Xenoth remembered Dent telling him about the rokitten that his parents had given him. Dent really loved the rokitten. To ask Xenoth to care for her meant that he didn’t think he would recover. “You’ll be okay, Dent.” “Go . .” Dent couldn’t say any more. He was exhausted from the effort of getting out a few words and he gasped for air. Xenoth knew that Dent was right. The injuries were too severe. “Of course I’ll take care of her, Dent. I . . I have to go,” he struggled to say. Xenoth could hear someone coming down the hallway, and the overseer had dissappeared. Looking out the window he could see that he was only one floor up and was just above a cover over an entrance. He climbed out the window and lowered himself down.

The world swirled in and out of focus as Xenoth ran. He slowed to a walk and then he stopped. He bent over panting, his now old heart beating fiercely, and the tears still streaming down his face. He knew that he was back in the prison box, but the memories of Klasrum were so strong in his mind—as if they had just happened. He sat on the floor to catch his breath and slowly recalled how the remainder of his time on Klasrum had been spent. He wiped away the tears on his sleeve and saw that Pax was there, sitting on Kith off to the side of what still looked like the road back to the factory on Klasrum. “A very sad story, Xenoth,” said Pax. “Yes, it was a difficult time, Pax . . Pax? You’re crying,” Xenoth said seeing the tears in the old man’s eyes. “Ahem . . well, you’re such a good story teller,” said Pax reaching for a rag to clean his face. “So did you get caught?” “Uh . . oh you mean running back to the factory. No, I was able to slip back in without notice.” “Brrrrooohh,” trumpeted Kith. Xenoth smiled at the rocat, not understanding how she could be there with them, but happy to see her nonetheless. “Kith arrived in a crate a week later. Dent had somehow gotten word to his parents that he wanted me to care for her.” “A rocat in a factory?” asked Pax. “Yes. Actually, the other workers were glad to have her around, even Teech. It seems that rocats do a good job of keeping other animals away, other animals that aren’t very pleasant to have around, that is.”

“A good hunter she is,” Pax agreed patting the rocat. “You still haven’t told me how she could be here with us.” “So how long did you remain at the factories?” asked Pax ignoring Xenoth’s question. Xenoth knew better than to try to pursue it just now. Pax would just get angry and nothing would be gained. It would make the time together more difficult. Xenoth walked to the food stores and gathered a few things. He took for granted that the goons had been and had re-supplied the box. “I was there for three more years before my prenticeship with Demiou and my assignment aboard Physdesys. Well, three and a half actually. They kept me on past the other workers’ doorclosing.” “Doorclosing … hmmm,” said Pax. “Oh, sorry,” said Xenoth, interpreting Pax’s statement to be a question. “Doorclosing is the ceremony when the workers finish their time at the factory. As they leave the factory for the last time, they get to slam a big door shut.” “Quite a way to end the time,” commented Pax. “Yes, it sort of helped us begin to forget and get on with the rest of our lives.” “You wanted to forget your training? Hmmph. Some training.” “It’s not training at all,” said Xenoth angrily. “The school is an indoctrination center. It’s a relic. It has nothing to do with a gatebuilder’s craft. It’s a prison.” Then looking about he saw the irony of the statement.

“Why did you have to spend the extra time?” asked Pax. “They lied to me. Well, not exactly a lie, but they let me believe something that wasn’t true.” “And what was that?” “After about a year, I was transferred to a different factory. I found myself with a bunch of smRts. I thought that they had made a mistake at the time, but I suppose I deserved it. With this group, I had only three CLGs per day and we worked mostly on flags and imagekeys. And Rt every day. It was a pretty good life when I look back on it. A lot better than what it was like with the grNts, of course. But I bet that most of the grNts could have done as well if they were treated the same way we were.” “The half year extra was added because I had to make up for time I spent out of line. After a year with the smRts, I came up with an idea for how we could do a better job making imagekeys. I skipped many CLGs working out the details. And it turned out very well—better keys from a better process. But I learned the hard way that that didn’t matter.” “Why’s that?” asked Pax. “The factory was part of the Gate Corporation, and the Gate Corporation had a monopoly. So when I came up with a new key that was a better match to what builders really needed, they never let it go into production.” “Why not, if it was better?” “It was different, and it would have cost them to make the changes. More importantly, it didn’t do what the crats wanted—what they said that gatebuilders needed. I spent months coming up

with the new process, then it was judged by the same old rules. Of course it didn’t follow those rules. They were stupid rules. They were centuries old and led us to make keys that gatebuilders could barely use. But since they were the only keys around, who could do anything but buy them?” “You talked to customers?” asked Pax. “Yes . . that’s what did it. They would have let me back in line if I hadn’t showed my new keys to some visiting customers. The customers thought the new keys were great. But I didn’t have permission to show them. So that was that. An extra half year. . . how did you know the gatebuilders were called customers at the factory?” “So the new keys were forgotten?” said Pax, again ignoring Xenoth’s question. “Maybe they forgot. I didn’t. In fact, I used them a number of tim . . Oh keepers, I’m in this box anyway. They were good keys and served well.” Xenoth realized a moment too late that he had admitted making and using illegal keys. The goons would tell the crats. But the crats probably knew anyway.

Chapter 7. Jood Learn to see things differently

“Every time I make a new connection between things that seem

different at first, you say that I’m closer to finishing my training. But I never finish. When is this going to end?”

“Soon, Xenoth. And never.” “Xenie? Xenie? . . Oh here you are. The gatebuilder is here. Please come out and say hello. And remember what I told you. Your best behavior, Xenie.” “Yes, mom,” Xenoth said sullenly. All he knew about the gate school was that it was on some island called Klasrum and lasted for years. He wasn’t at all interested in leaving his friends behind to go learn to be a gatebuilder, whatever that was. “Gatebuilder Jood, this is Xenoth,” his mother said. The gatebuilder paid no attention to her name being misspoken. An unimportant detail. “Hey there Xenie! Ooooh, look up from the floor there little guy. Rocat got your tongue?” “Spiders,” Xenoth thought. It was a girl. “Xenoth, please say hello,” his mother asked, her tone of voice saying it was more than a request. “Hello,” he mumbled not looking up from the floor. “Well, we’ll share soon enough,” the gatebuilder said seeing that he was just obeying his mother. “But in the Morz Jungle they take eye contact as a sign of respect, and people who don’t respect each other get their eyes burned out.”

Xenoth’s mother gasped. But it had the desired effect. Xenoth’s head flew up, his eyes wide with fear looking at this strange girl from the gate school. Well, more of a woman now that he got a look at her. But she wasn’t too old he guessed. The way she dressed and the way she talked certainly weren’t like most grownups. “Hey guy, relax. I was just kiddin ya. Show me to my room. I’m beat. It’s a long way from Klasrum ya know,” Jood said to Xenoth as she picked up her two small bags. Xenoth looked at his mother who nodded back to him. “This way,” he said. “Whew! What a trip. They stuck me on a barge to come up river to here. Haven’t had a bath in days.” Xenoth wanted to say that he could tell, but thought better of it. “So what do ya do for excitement around here kid?” “Me and Knol squish caterpillars,” he blurted out, then realized that wasn’t at all what she had in mind. “Wow. That’s great. Let’s do some later,” she replied. Xenoth looked back at her, totally confused. What kind of a woman would want to squish caterpillars? “But I could use some rest first. Is this my room?” “Uh huh,” Xenoth said stepping out of her way. He stood in the doorway as she dropped her bags and lay down on the bed. “You can wash over there. My mom laid out a towel for you.” But she was already drifting off to sleep.

Jood sure must have been tired. Every time Xenoth peeked in around the corner he could see that she was still fast asleep. She

hadn’t even moved in over a day. He had been all prepped to take the tests for the gate school when she arrived. This waiting was driving him crazy. Maybe if he made some noise or shook her bed, she’d wake up and they could get on with it. Xenoth checked to make sure his mother was busy in another area of the house. Then he sneaked into Jood’s room. There she lay, the same way as before, in what he thought must be the most uncomfortable position imaginable. One leg twisted over the other, one arm underneath her side and the other over her head. Didn’t even cover herself with a blanket. This woman was weird. He stood at the head of her bed for several minutes trying to figure out what to do. He had settled on dropping a pillow and running, and had just about gotten up the courage, when he heard her speak. “Whadda ya say, kid?” Xenoth nearly jumped through the ceiling. “I . . I was just seeing if you were awake yet.” “Hey, no problem.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to get her balance before standing up. Xenoth’s heart still thumped through his chest, but at least he didn’t think he was going to get in trouble for waking her up. “How could you sleep so long? I mean, uh, it’s been a whole day.” “You get used to it. Sometimes after an adventure a gatebuilder might sleep for a week or more.” “A whole week?” Xenoth thought she must be kidding. Nobody could sleep a whole week.

“Well, when you go for a month without sleeping it’s pretty easy.” Before Xenoth could ask any more questions, Jood stood up and made her way to the bath. “Plenty of time to tell you about it, kid,” she said. She bathed as long as she slept. At least it seemed that way to Xenoth. He peeked around the corner once, wondering if she had drowned or something. She just smiled and said how good it felt.

It was already late in the day by the time Jood had bathed and eaten. Breakfast time for her. Xenoth and his mother had already finished dinner. “Good food, eh kid?” Jood said. “It’s okay . . my name is Xenoth,” he replied, finally mustering the courage to tell her that he hated being called kid. “No problem, Xenie,” He could see that she wasn’t going to give him a break on anything. He would just take the tests, flunk them on purpose, and she would go away. The sooner the better. “So how long do they take?” he asked. “How long does what take? Oh, you mean the tests. We’ll get to the tests soon enough. They’re pretty easy, kid. . uh Xenie. Nothing to worry about. But you know, I really could use some exercise first. One heck of a trip here. My body’s a mess.” “You could hike Devel Gorge,” said Xenoth sarcastically, not truly meaning it, but imagining that it would be an easy way to get rid of her.

“Xenoth!” his mother shouted. “I’m sorry, Gatebuilder . . I don’t think he understands what a wonderful opportunity he is being offered.” Jood smiled to Xenoth’s mother and then stared at Xenoth as she continued to eat. Xenoth’s mother excused herself and reminded him to clean the table when Jood was finished. “So tell me about the gorge,” Jood said. Xenoth frowned and said “It’s no big deal. Just a bunch of rocks and trees and stuff.” “So you’ve been there?” “Of course,” said Xenoth defiantly. Jood studied his face for a moment, then said “Maybe you could take me there.” “Uh . . you wouldn’t like it . . It’s real dangerous. Nobody goes there.” “But you said you’ve been there.” “Sure I’ve been there.” Xenoth had to find a way to change the subject quick. He had walked up close to the mouth of the gorge once. His mother had been furious. But with all the tales and warnings how could a kid resist taking a look for himself. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Jood proclaimed as she stood and began to clear the table. “But . . mom says nobody should go there. It’s . . it’s real dangerous.” “Exhilarating! See you first thing,” Jood exclaimed. She finished cleaning up quickly then walked away to her room.

Jood didn’t need much sleep that night so she was ready to move bright and early the next morning. “Wake up kid. Let’s go,” she said shaking Xenoth. He had laid awake most of the night trying to figure a way out of going to the gorge with her. He was sure that his mother wouldn’t allow it. But what if Jood convinced her? He would have to be the one to bring it up. That would surely get his mother angry. Then she wouldn’t even think about letting them go. “Your mom says it’s a good hike to the gorge, so time’s wasting.” Xenoth’s face filled with surprise and fear. Jood just giggled. “Let’s go!” She tore the blanket off of him.

There were no paths, at least none that Xenoth knew of, so they struck out for the gorge across the forest not far from Xenoth’s house. They would be back soon enough, Xenoth thought. Jood had done the packing, and he could see that they didn’t carry enough food for more than a day. He would eat heartily all day and they would have to turn back. “A good plan,” he thought. The forest was thick with underbrush so the going was slow. Xenoth fought his way through, not wanting to let on that he wasn’t entirely sure of the way. It was annoying to get scratched by the prickers, but at least she was getting scratched too, he thought. By the time they stopped for lunch he was very tired. Jood didn’t seem tired at all. And she must have been watching where he got scratched and avoiding those spots because she wasn’t nearly as scratched up as he was. Staying with his plan, Xenoth ate

as much as he could. Jood only smiled and commented on how hard work increased the appetite.

By mid-afternoon, Xenoth was tired and frustrated. Every time he started to slow down, Jood would make some stupid comment like “trees’ll grow around you” or “snakes’ll think you’re dead.” He wasn’t exactly sure of where they were, but at least by the position of the sun he could tell that they were headed in the right direction—back toward home. “She must be really stupid,” he thought, not to notice that they had circled back. Running out of food was a good plan, even better if they were a short distance from home. He’d let her get hungry and decide to go back, then he’d circle around a bit more to make it seem like the way back was just as far. But he had miscalculated and they ran into Kwit Brook. Kwit Brook ran south into the Gage River below the gorge. They would have to circle around the springs where the brook started in order to get back home. “Ah . . this feels good. Come on in, Xenie.” Jood had taken off her shoes and waded into the brook. Xenoth sat down leaning against a tree. He had to think fast. “I’m kinda turned around. Does this run north?” she asked. “No south to the river . . no . . uh, north like you said.” Without thinking he had blurted out too much. “Which is it?” “South.” “And you said it goes to the river?” “Yeh.” “Then we just follow it, meet the river and head up stream to the gorge?”

“Course,” he agreed, not wanting her to figure out what he had done. Now he couldn’t avoid going to the gorge. Not only that, they were taking the longest route he could think of. Well, they were still going to run out of food, and he could retrace the same circular route back. All afternoon, they followed the brook. Xenoth thought about trying to circle away from it, but he knew that would probably just lead them to the river more quickly. Near dusk they finally came to where the brook met the Gage River. From there they would turn upstream to the east. Xenoth was clearly exhausted, so they made camp for the night. Xenoth gathered some sticks and made a fire. Jood cooked what food they had left. “It’s another day to the gorge,” said Xenoth trying to get Jood to realize that they wouldn’t have enough food. “Good, I could use another flat hike to get my muscles stretched before climbing,” she replied. “Climbing?” Xenoth asked. “You know . . up into the gorge.” “Oh . . yeh . . course.” Xenoth hadn’t thought they would really reach the gorge, and he had only been to the mouth. He had been warned throughout his childhood about the dangers of climbing in the gorge. But with no food . . “Looks like we hunt and gather from here on,” Jood said, holding up the empty food containers. She looked away, hiding her wide grin.

In the morning, Jood gathered some roots and berries and shared them with Xenoth. He was, of course, used to such food and

to finding it for himself. He never thought that this gatebuilder woman would know how. So much for the plan. The hike was easier than the previous day. It was up hill, but gradual and the underbrush wasn’t nearly as thick. Jood let Xenoth take the lead all morning. He didn’t dare try to walk away from the river. She would catch on too easily. So he tried to think of some other excuse for turning back. He had nearly settled on a twisted ankle, when she commented on how somebody could trip over the big branches of the trees. Could she read his mind or something? “Scratch that idea,” he thought. At some points where recent flooding had cut into the banks and then receded, they were able to walk in the sand or on the stones in the riverbed. It was easier going than the forest. Jood whistled and sang, never finishing one tune before starting another and always off key. It drove Xenoth crazy, so he tried to gain some distance between them. But she always kept up. “You go first for a while,” he said. If she were in front, the noise would at least travel away from him, and maybe he could drop back farther and farther. Maybe she’d get lost and wouldn’t ever be found. Eaten by the gorge monsters. “Hey Xenie, looksee,” she shouted as she leapt from one stone to the next. He hadn’t played looksee in years. It was a little kid’s game. Why did she keep thinking of him as a kid. “I’ll go first,” she said, looking back and seeing his frown. “The rocks here are like ideas. You jump on one, then it gives you a chance to jump to another, and then to the next and the next and

the next . .” and she continued to jump from rock to rock up the stream, laughing and shouting “and the next” with each one. “She’ll get real tired that way,” Xenoth thought. “Maybe even slip.” But it sure looked like fun. Before long he found himself leaping behind her. Xenoth’s expression changed quickly to a scowl when Jood turned and caught him smiling. “Pretty good, huh ki . . uh Xenie?” Xenoth continued walking past her and climbed back into the woods where the river widened to fill its bed. “Your turn, but I pick,” she said. She really was going to make him play the game, Xenoth thought. She was more of a kid than he was. “The tree trunk,” said Jood, pointing to the bottom of a large tree. Xenoth continued walking for a few steps, then stopped and turned to look back at what Jood was pointing to. Well, the more she played the longer it would take to get to the gorge. More chances of turning back. Why not. “It’s like the leg of a big monster in the sky,” he offered. “No, it’s more like a home for tiny people,” she replied. “ Look at their caves, and their moss lawns.” “Wa . . .” Xenoth barely caught himself before complaining. She wasn’t playing fair. You weren’t supposed to criticize somebody else’s see, especially when you picked. But if that’s how she was going to be, he’d have to fight back.

“They’re not tiny people. It’s a giant tree. We’re in a forest of giant trees, with huge bugs and snakes that are going to bite us and chew us up and spit us out because they don’t like people.” “Good one, Xenie!” she cried and laughed. “Your turn.” That showed her, Xenoth said to himself proudly. You don’t mess around in looksee with this kid. But what was he doing playing looksee with this woman? Now he couldn’t help but look for something to pick for her. A few minutes later Xenoth pointed to the ground and said, “That pine cone.” “Oh . . that’s part of a machine,” Jood tried. “What kind of machine?” Xenoth wasn’t about to let such a lousy answer pass. You could say ‘part of a machine’ about anything. “Well, it looks like a way of getting rid of excess heat, maybe if you spin it like this. So a part of a motor.” She held the small spherical cone up by the stem and spun it in her hand. “Okay, sort of,” Xenoth agreed tentatively. “Hmmph. Can you do better?” “Sure, it’s not a part of a motor. It’s the whole motor. See it’s like a motor that changes one idea into another rather than changing fuel into force.” “Say what?” Jood asked. “Well, it’s just the frame of the motor. The stuff inside is gone. It used to be an idea motor, grown from the center out so that all its parts were as close together as possible so they could talk to

each other really fast. Only now the stuff got sucked out by the giant snake.” “Okay, okay . . I give. That’s a good one.” Xenoth took the lead, giving Jood a chance to scribble a quick note in her book as they walked on. Lunch was about the same as breakfast, but Xenoth gathered for himself. Better stuff than she found, he made sure to point out. The afternoon hike was easy. The mosses and needles underneath their feet were like a bed, not soft enough for their feet to break the surface, but not so hard that their feet got sore. The tree branches started way above their heads and there was little underbrush. Some trees had vines hanging down that another time Xenoth would have enjoyed climbing. The trees grew more closely together and the vines more numerous so gradually that Xenoth took no notice. By the time he felt the first thread he was already well inside. He wiped the thread off his face, then felt another, wiped that off, then another and another. The threads were all over him. “Joo . . Jood!” he screamed as he tried to rip himself free. But there was no answer and his legs were caught together. More and more threads fell and wrapped around him. He could barely twist and move his arms, and then he couldn’t move at all. There was still enough space between threads for him to see through one eye and to breath through his nose, but his mouth and his ears were covered. Any effort to move seemed only to make the threads tighten more around him. As if he weren’t frightened enough, he could feel himself being lifted upward.

As his feet left the ground, his weight grew more than the threads could bear. First one, then all snapped, and Xenoth fell to the ground. He lay there struggling for several minutes before finding that he could unwrap himself if he relaxed and moved very slowly. He backed away carefully, watching to see that no other threads were dropping to catch him, trying to see, and at the same time not to see what was above him in the trees. Just a few more steps, then he spun and ran as fast as he could back down what he thought was the way they had come. Where was Jood? Had it got her? Xenoth trembled at the thought of Jood being caught in the threads and maybe eaten by whatever was in the tree. Then again, he wouldn’t have to go the gorge, or to the stupid school. But she wasn’t so bad. At least when she wasn’t playing stupid games. He ought to at least try to find her. Then he wouldn’t have to lie about it to his mother, anyway. “JOOD! JOOD!” he called. “XENOTH!” “Aaauugh,” Xenoth cried in surprise. Jood was in a tree directly above him. “Don’t do that!” he shouted angrily, recovering from this latest scare. “Well, don’t yell at people when they’re right next to you,” she said as she climbed down the vine out of the tree, sharing a farewell with the tree dwellers as she did. “I was caught and nearly eaten!” “Really? Sorry I couldn’t watch,” Jood said sarcastically as she burst out laughing.

“I . . I was in a web and they were drawing me up into the tree. I fell and then . .” “That’s good. Let’s see . . spiders could be so big and live up in the trees and eat little kids that come by. Let me try to build on that one.” “I’m not playing looksee! It really happened!” “Hmm . . a spider web. Maybe a net to catch ideas. Yeh, an idea net so that when minds come running in, their ideas can’t get away.” Xenoth thought she was teasing, but by the expression on her face he could see that she was really playing the game. “It really happened. . . What were you doing in the tree, anyway?” “Oh, at first I shared with an eagle.” Xenoth could see that he wouldn’t get anywhere with her. Nearly eaten and she keeps playing a stupid game.

There were a few hours of sunlight left, so Jood suggested they move on. But Xenoth refused to go back into the vines. He insisted that the only way he would go upriver was on the other side. The river was fairly narrow, but deep and a bit too fast to swim. Jood found a tree hanging out over the edge with a vine they might be able to swing across on. But when she tried it, she found that the branch it was attached to didn’t extend far enough out over the river. She was barely able to catch another branch and get back without falling in. Xenoth had noticed that Jood packed some rope so he suggested that he could tie a rock or stick onto the rope, swing out over the river, and throw the rope so it caught on something on the

other side. Jood said that she didn’t quite understand what he had in mind, but she gave him the rope anyway. He tied one end to a tree trunk and the other end around a stick. He swung out over the river on the vine, and holding the vine in one hand, threw the stick across. He had to try this a couple times before the stick caught between two rocks on the other side. Then he tightened the rope to the tree, and the two of them were able to hold on to it as they made their way across the river. “Something for the notebook tonight,” said Jood to herself. They dried themselves and the contents of their packs off as best they could in what sun remained for the day. There was no point in trying to hike further until morning. “Idea net’s a stupid idea, anyway,” said Xenoth as he rolled over to dry his back. “What? Why?” “Well, if you really want to catch lots of ideas you wouldn’t just set up a net and sit still and wait. You’d send the net out. Make it real big and getting bigger all the time. Then you could pull it back in every now and then and look at what you caught.” Jood’s eyes grew wide and her faint smile revealed her appreciation. Her note written later that night read “Perhaps this child will be one of us, Demiou.”

Chapter 8. Devel Gorge Wake up your power to make

“Now close your eyes and hold firmly to the image. Do you see

it?” “Yes, I . . . I lost it again. But I can hold it when I keep my eyes

open.” “With your eyes you see only what exists. To see the future, look

in your heart.” “Go on with the story,” said Pax. “Huh? Oh, where was I?” Xenoth rubbed his eyes. He must have dozed off. “You made it across the river,” Pax prompted. Xenoth continued the story. “We had crossed the river to stay clear of the tree dwellers. It was getting dark so we camped there for the night. I began to ask Gatebuilder Jood about the school. I wasn’t very interested at that point, and still didn’t want to go, mind you, but I was intrigued by this woman. She was just so different than any other adult I had met before.” “What was so different?” “Well, she teased me a bit about small things, and kept on calling me kid or Xenie, which I hated. But she never complained as she watched me do all sorts of rotten things, including trying to mislead her. Most of all, I think I liked her so much because she was so alive. An adult with more energy than me.” Xenoth could feel a lump in his throat. After all these years he could still feel so strongly for her.

“Did you love her?” asked Pax. “Uh . . well . . yes, I suppose I did grow to love Jood, in a way.” “Hey, come on kid. This is gettin too sappy for me,” said Jood shaking Xenoth awake. “Come on, out of your dream and on to the gorge.” “Jood? I . . I was . . I can’t remember.” Xenoth sat up and looked about. He was on the bank of the river they had crossed the day before, when he had escaped from the threads. But he felt like he had been somewhere else or that he had been here before. “Come on kid. Oops, I mean Xenie. Let’s get moving. Don’t want those spiders to get you again,” she teased and laughed.

As they started along the riverside, Xenoth recalled their conversation the night before. He had asked all sorts of questions about the gate school. Jood had answered some but not others. But she had been polite about it. When he asked about something she wasn’t supposed to talk about, she just said so. She didn’t make him feel bad about it or anything. He remembered her saying that it was like metamorphosis. If he were accepted, he would enter like a caterpillar and exit like a butterfly. That hadn’t been a very attractive view for him, and he had complained that he didn’t feel like a caterpillar, but she simply smiled. Always smiled. This woman was always smiling and laughing at something. Oh well, it could be worse. She could be mean and nasty he supposed.

The morning hike was fairly easy once again. A gradual rise along the river’s edge, sometimes in thick wood, but mostly in open ground.

Toward mid-day, the river began to narrow and become more active. Xenoth could tell that they were getting close to the gorge. They stopped for lunch and Xenoth nervously played with his food, something that could hardly escape Jood’s notice. “Looksee,” she said with a smile. “The mouth of the gorge is just ahead,” said Xenoth, not wanting to play a game when such dangers were close by. “Great. I’m ready for an adventure,” Jood said enthusiastically. “Sure. . me too.” It wouldn’t do for her to think that he was scared. As they rounded the bend, the mouth came into view and the sounds of the churning water grew loud. It didn’t look quite as frightening as Xenoth remembered. He had been just a kid. But it was still dangerous. Piles of large boulders were stacked on both sides of the river and half filled the riverbed, making the water shoot over top and in between. Above the boulders they could see the start of the gorge. High cliffs on both sides, the left nearly straight vertical, the right a series of steps with trees and bushes clinging to each. They stopped for a moment. Jood gazed across the cliffs and water, her smile steady, while Xenoth fought back his fears. How much was real danger, and how much had they instilled in a little kid to keep him from wandering off, he wondered.

“Let’s do it!” Jood shouted, and before Xenoth could reply she was off at a stiff pace toward the boulders. He couldn’t see where she was going to go. It didn’t look like there was a way to get around the boulders. But when they reached them, she didn’t even hesitate. She climbed right over the first, jumped to another, climbed again, jumped, climbed, jumped. Xenoth had all he could do to keep up. If he had stopped for a moment and thought about it, he probably would have gotten stuck. The distance between the boulders, and the height of each was extraordinary for somebody his age and size. Jood stopped near the top where they got a clear view of the cliff face to their left. “Whew! Hey, Xenie, looksee the rocks over there,” Jood said as she pointed to the left wall. Didn’t she ever get tired or serious, he wondered. The north face of the gorge was striped horizontally with different layers of rocks. At one point, however, the rock layers were twisted nearly vertical and rectangular slabs of stone jutted out into the air. “Uh . . well,” Xenoth said trying to catch his breath, “maybe houses all stacked up on each other. A city on a cliff.” “Hmmph, can’t you do better than that kid?” “Don’t call me kid.” “Sorry . . but a city? Come on.” Xenoth frowned but couldn’t resist the challenge. “Sure it’s houses. Its on a planet with so many people that they have to live in houses that are stacked on top of each other. The rich people live on top of the poor people.” “Hmm . . a little better I guess.”

Now Xenoth was getting angry. It was a decent see, and he’d just climbed a bunch of huge boulders. “The richer you get the higher you can build. The really rich get to see the sunrise and sunset because their buildings are above the others. They throw shadows on the others. In fact, the really really rich have buildings that move up and down.” “Why would they want to do that?” “Lots of reasons. Like then they could pretend to be poor sometimes and fool people. And they could make it so that the poor people were underground, so somebody visiting wouldn’t see them.” “But aren’t the poor people’s houses holding up the rich people’s houses?” “Yeh, exactly. That’s what makes the buildings grind each other up like the cliff.” “Uh . . Oh, I get it,” said Jood glancing back at the cliff face and nodding, her fingers unconsciously searching for her pencil.

Grabbing on to bushes and tree roots, they were able to climb up to the first step of the south wall. On the step they found it possible to walk along farther and farther into the gorge. The looksee had distracted Xenoth enough that he hadn’t thought about the fact that he was in the gorge until now. “Maybe she did that on purpose,” he thought. “Keep sharp, Xenie.” Jood had taken up the rear and was keeping an eye on him. Good thing. He was getting too close to the edge sometimes and didn’t seem to be concentrating.

The step widened briefly and they stopped to rest. They could find only a few berries to eat, but those they found were ripe and sweet. “What are we going to eat up ahead?” Xenoth asked. “What lies ahead?” “Uh well . . it’s like this here . . sort of.” “I’m sure we’ll find something,” she said kindly. “I haven’t been much further before,” he offered, seeing that he had to get out of the fib quick. “Then it will be a new adventure for both of us.” She smiled with relief. Xenoth looked out over the river from their perch. He could see the forest they had walked through and he sighted along the direction where he thought his home was. Why couldn’t he be back there doing stuff with Knol and the others. Why should he have to be the one to go to some stupid school. Looking upriver he could see that the gorge took a northward turn. He didn’t see how they would get around since the step they were on seemed to disappear. The river was more than thirty feet below them and he could barely make out the noise of the water splashing around the boulders back at the mouth. Jood stood and stretched a bit and decided to take the lead. She warned him not to get too close to the edge. He didn’t mind. It really was a long fall, and she didn’t say it like he was a kid. After a half hour, the step was down to about 4 feet wide, and Xenoth could see looking past Jood that it continued to blend in with the rock face. They wouldn’t be able to climb up to the next step, and

it was straight down to the river to their left. He couldn’t understand why she just kept walking forward. “I haven’t been this far before. I don’t see a way up or down,” he said, thinking that she may not have been paying attention. “Always a way if you don’t think about it too hard,” she replied. What was that supposed to mean? She didn’t even slow down. It wouldn’t last long, though. He could see that they were only a little ways from where the step disappeared. “Okay, ready?” Jood asked. She had stopped and turned toward the river. “Ready for what?” “I could use a bath, couldn’t you?” Xenoth realized what she had in mind and backed away, grabbing for a branch or something to hold on to. She was crazy. They were way too high up to jump. He looked down over the edge fearfully, expecting to see the rushing river full of rocks waiting to break him apart. Sure enough, there was the rushing water, and there were the rocks, but just below them was a pool. The water had apparently cut this circular shape, then left it to the side as it rushed by. Xenoth started to think about how this might have occurred, but Jood grabbed his hand and shouted “Jumping gatebuilders!” with a huge smile. It happened so quickly. He would either be dragged over the edge holding the two of them against the cliff, most likely hitting

rocks along the way, and definitely smashing upon them at the bottom. Or he would jump with her. He jumped. They flew together out over the edge and down into the pool. It must have been deep because they never touched bottom. It was certainly cold. “Whoa, that was great,” she shouted as they came to the surface. “Yeh . . great,” Xenoth replied wondering how he had actually brought himself to trust this crazy woman. They crawled up on the flat sheet of rock surrounding the pool and lay in the sun to rest and to dry themselves and the gear they had packed. They hiked along the edge of the river for much of the afternoon. The gorge gradually opened up and the cliffs became hills. Hills with extremely steep sides, but hills nonetheless. They could see that the river would make a bend to the right up ahead, but it was too far off for them to make before nightfall. Xenoth remembered one of the tales he had heard about the gorge, and warned Jood that the river could rise very suddenly and sweep them away if they camped too close. So they climbed up the hillside to the right of the river, holding onto bushes and tree branches as best they could to keep from slipping back down. “Guess this is as good as anywhere else,” said Jood. A large tree had fallen and lay perpendicular to the hill, caught by other trees from rolling down the hillside. They could make camp above the tree, and sleep lying up against it. “Okay, you make the fire Xenie.”

“All right,” replied Xenoth, and then looking at where they were, “but, uh . . a fire against a dead tree?” Jood smiled at him and laughed, then began to eat some berries she had gathered along the riverside. Xenoth could see that he had to keep on his toes or she would always have the best of him. They talked for a while, again about the gate school. It didn’t sound quite as bad as he had imagined, but Xenoth still wasn’t keen on leaving home. “What does a gatebuilder do anyway?” he asked. “We do many things. Mostly, we help people.” “Help them do what?” “Help themselves.” “So, what do they need you for if they can do it themselves?” “What ‘it’ do you mean?” “Uh . . whatever ‘it’ it is you say you help them do.” She laughed and said, “Goodnight, Xenie.” Now he was thoroughly confused. It was a simple question, he thought, but she had to make it seem so complicated. Maybe he could try again in the morning. He was tired from the long day of hiking and climbing, and even jumping into a pool. He still couldn’t believe how high they had jumped from. The ground up against the tree was surprisingly comfortable, and sleep came quickly.

“Tap ti-ti-ti-ti tap tap TAP ti-ti-ti-ti-ti tap ti-ti-ti.” Xenoth woke to the noise. It seemed to be coming right through the tree. “Ti-ti-ti-ti-ti tap tap ti-ti-ti.”

He could feel the cool morning air on his face and the dew on his clothes. He sat up and tried to stand but was quickly reminded that he was on a hillside. He fell and had to grab a branch to keep from tumbling over the tree and rolling down the hill. He was wide awake now, but not a very nice kind of awake. The kind of awake that you get from a friend jumping you from behind, and scaring you half out of your mind. “Shhhh . . ti-ti-ti tap ti-ti-ti-ti ti-ti tap.” He looked around and after he wiped some sleep out of his eyes he could see Jood standing a few feet away hitting the tree with a stick. “Ti-ti-ti-ti tap tap ti-ti-ti.” “What are you doing?” “Shhhh . . ti-ti-ti-ti.” She held her finger to her lips and continued to hit the tree with the stick. “Ti-ti-ti-ti-ti.” As she paused, Xenoth could make out in the distance, “ti-ti-ti-ti tap tap ti-ti-ti-ti.” Jood used her stick again, “ti-ti-ti tap ti-ti tap ti-ti-ti.” She smiled at Xenoth and continued to listen to the sound in the distance and then to make what Xenoth realized were similar sounds on the tree. “I speak woodpecker,” she whispered and giggled. Right. And he was a gatebuilder, whatever that was. He turned away scowling and began to get his gear packed up. It only took a minute, of course. He had anticipated a two-day hike and

they were already gone for almost twice that. So if I go to Klasrum, I get to learn to hit a tree with a stick, he thought. Great.

“Which way?” Jood asked as she adjusted her pack. “Back down to the river, I suppose,” said Xenoth, but he was in no particular hurry to get back near the water, now that he had had some time to think about how dangerous their jump had been. “Or else we could hike over top of the hill. We’re almost half way up now, and we could maybe walk along the top of the gorge.” He had heard stories of people getting killed or going into the gorge and never coming out again. But that all seemed to happen in the gorge. He didn’t remember hearing about anything happening to people who walked above it. “Sounds good,” and she was off up the hill. They weren’t anywhere near half-way up the hill, as Xenoth had thought, so by the time they reached the top they both needed a long rest. At least it didn’t look as steep going down the other side. In fact, it looked as if they could follow along the ridge for a ways and not have to climb up or down. After some stretching and a small lunch of leaves and nuts that Jood had gathered, that’s what they decided to do. The ridge seemed to run parallel to the river, as far as they could tell. It was fairly thick with trees. In a couple places, it got so narrow that they had to be very careful not to slide down one side or the other, but it was easy walking. Jood pointed out flowers that she had not seen before and Xenoth told her what his mother called them, at least those he could remember. They walked along the ridge so long that Xenoth wondered if they were, in fact, staying

near the gorge. Not that he wanted to get back close. But he wasn’t sure where the alternative might take them either. He didn’t need to worry. The ridge took them straight back to the gorge where the river wound southward. The trees began to thin and they could feel the daylight growing on all sides. And then there were no trees at all. And then no ridge. They were high above the gorge looking out across to cliffs along the northern side. The river came around the bend from the south as they had expected, then it turned almost back on itself below them. They were on a promontory. A great view of the gorge, but offering no possible way forward. The rock face below them was far too steep to climb. It even disappeared at some points meaning that it was cut out below. They would have to go back the way they came. Xenoth had gotten used to the heights so he wasn’t too shy about getting near the edge. “Careful, Xenie. It’s a long way . .” “Aaaiiieee,” he cried as the ground disappeared underneath him. “Xenie! Xenie!” Jood screamed as she ran to where he had been standing. “Aaiiee,” she screamed as the ground disappeared underneath her as well. Xenoth landed with a thump. Moments later, Jood landed next to him. Both had expected a long deadly fall down the face of the cliff. But their slides had gone the wrong way—away from the cliff—and to firm ground interrupting their fall. They spun their

heads back and forth trying to see in the dark, then looked above them where the dim light filtered in through the hole they had fallen into. They had not fallen down the cliff. They had fallen into some sort of cave. “Are you okay?” asked Jood. “Yeh, I guess so,” replied Xenoth feeling his arms and legs, “how about you?” “Yeh, me too. Wow. I thought we were goners.” “Me too. Where are we?” he asked. “How should I know?” she replied. Xenoth felt a bit embarrassed. It was a stupid question he had to admit, but he had said it more as a question to himself than to her. “Look away from the hole and let your eyes adjust,” she said. After a few minutes they could see several things. First, the cave was huge. They must have been walking over top of it for quite a while. Second, the hole they had fallen through was way above their heads, and not along a wall. There was no way they would be able to climb up and out. “So what do we do now, future gatebuilder?” Jood asked softly. Xenoth didn’t answer. He was busy trying to see what was around them and searching his memory for any stories of caves in the gorge. Something struck him as familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He started to walk around slowly to see if anything else in the cave might give him a clue. He touched the wall expecting it to be dirt or rock. “It must be rock,” he thought, as he ran his hand over it. But it felt so smooth and vertical, straight vertical in fact, with

no breaks or angles or ridges. No wait, here were some indentations. They were somehow regular, though, and the surface around them felt so smooth, so flat. The indentations were cut, he realized, and then stepped back in horror. “In the. . uh . .” he muttered. “What’s that?” Jood asked “In the stone along the side, the feathered men will eat your mind.” Xenoth’s voice shook, and his legs and arms froze in fear. He had recited the phrase as a child, skipping along paths with his friends. He never knew what it meant, nor did the other children who had passed it along for generations. Now Xenoth knew, and was scared beyond belief. He had even uttered the phrase, surely bringing the feathered men here to discover who had broken into their cave. “Hey, Xenie. You sound like you heard a ghost,” said Jood. Then she too found the markings on the walls. “We . . we’re in the . . the feathered men’s cave,” said Xenoth. “The who? “ “The feathered men. I didn’t understand,” he whispered. The warnings his mother had given, her horror when he had been found at the mouth of the gorge years ago. His own fears which he thought were just a reaction to his mother’s paranoia. All of them came rushing back. He was petrified, and this woman calling herself a gatebuilder was to blame. “Huh?” He spun around at the scratching sound. They were coming to get him. There was the sound again. He spun back, then

looked up as the light through the hole suddenly dimmed even further. They were coming down the hole. He ran as fast as he could across the cave, even though he didn’t have any idea of where he was going. He just had to get away before the feathered men got him. Slam! He ran straight into the wall in the darkness, nearly knocking himself unconscious. He fell to the ground, but rose again quickly and felt for the wall. He found it quickly, by chance reaching in the right direction. If he had stepped the other way he would have lost it, maybe moving right back the way he came, right back to the feathered men. He felt along the wall. It was so dark. He had no idea of what he might find. He had to find some way out of the cave. Another hole, perhaps. It didn’t matter as long as he could fit through and get away. “Xenie,” Jood called, but her voice only echoed through the room sending Xenoth into more of a panic, if that were possible. He spun at the sound and jumped backward, purely by accident finding a way out. He fell backward through an arched entrance to the room and down a long set of stairs. “Yaaahh,” he howled. Recovering quickly and realizing that he had found an escape, he ran down the stairs in the dark, feeling the wall to the side. The stairs might end in solid rock, or they might drop him over an edge to fall to his death. It didn’t matter. It was away from the feathered men behind him. The stairs went on forever, winding down and down inside the rock. Xenoth recovered his senses gradually, enough to realize that he was exhausted. He slowed to a walk and finally found

himself thinking about what lay ahead as well as what was behind. His heart pounded, and he finally began to feel the pain in his face and shoulder from having run into the wall. “Xenie,” he heard echoing from above as if it were a ghost’s whisper. “Xenie, wait for me.” It was Jood. She had apparently heard him fall and had found the stairs. He waited as her footsteps grew loud enough to indicate that she was near then growled angrily, “Rrrrrr.” “AAEEE,” she screamed. “Quiet!” “Xenie!” she shouted, then continued at a whisper “Xenie, don’t do that. Are you all right?” “I’m about to get eaten. . again,” Xenoth said, remembering the threads she had led him into . . and then wouldn’t believe his story. He had had enough of her adventure. She had gotten them into this. She should have to get them out. “I want to go home,” he spit out. “Well, kid. I wouldn’t mind getting out of here myself. What do you suggest?” “I suggest that you find us a way back home.” “Down or up?” she asked patiently. She didn’t even get angry the way other grownups did. “I’m not going back up there.” “Fine. Down we go. You lead.” “Why me?” “The feathered men are above us right?”

“Oh yeh,” he replied in agreement. If they were going to get somebody, why not her. Xenoth started down again. He hadn’t noticed before how cold it was. And there was no light whatsoever. He could have closed his eyes, and it wouldn’t have made any difference, but he fought to see anyway. They didn’t speak but they could hear each other’s foot steps. After what they could only guess were hundreds of steps, Xenoth stumbled and cried out. He had expected another step but the path had flattened. “What’s the matter?” whispered Jood. “It’s flat. Maybe we’ve reached the bottom.” It could have been a landing of some sort or a floor. It was too dark to tell. “Where are you?” asked Jood as she too reached the flat. “Right here,” he replied turning toward her voice. “Do you think this is the bottom?” “I don’t know. Feel along the wall.” Xenoth’s anger toward Jood was gone. He had too much else to think about, most importantly finding the way out. “Let’s not get separated. Can I hold your hand?” asked Jood, her voice telling Xenoth that he would have to look out for her as much as the other way around. They felt out each other’s hand, then moved ahead with their backs to the wall. “I can feel an opening here,” said Xenoth feeling around a corner. “An opening to a new passage, or does this one just turn?” “I can’t tell. Come up next to me and see if you can feel the other side.”

“Okay. Don’t let go of me.” Jood walked slowly around to Xenoth’s right feeling forward with her feet and right hand. “I feel the wall,” she said, “and it’s . . across the way we were coming. It must be that the passage takes a turn.” “Okay, you keep touching that side and I’ll stay on this side. That way we’ll feel if another passage goes off.” “That sounds good. . Hey!” she squealed feeling her left wrist hit the wall. “Hey yourself!” Xenoth shot back. They had released each other’s hand when their wrists struck the wall. They reached out for each other but felt only stone. “Xenie, where are you?” “I’m right here.” They moved toward the sound of each other’s voice, and simultaneously got back to the corner. They realized that they had taken two different tunnels, separated by a column of stone. “Great, so which one do we take,” complained Xenoth. “You smell,” answered Jood. “What?” “Go ahead. Stand in each and take a good smell.” “Great. And what do we do, take the one that smells less like dead people?” Jood giggled and said, “not a bad idea.” How could she find anything remotely amusing about this. Maybe she laughed differently than other people. Maybe she was really cruel and got pleasure from other people’s pain. But there did seem to be a difference in the smells, or was that just his imagination. What did

it matter. They had to take one or the other. And he surely didn’t want any part of splitting up. “This one smells better. Let’s go.” And they began walking down the tunnel to the left.

The tunnel went on and on, gradually downward in what seemed to be a perfectly straight line. They rested every now and then, but never sat down or stopped feeling the wall. And they only let go of each other’s hand when they were leaning against the wall and could feel themselves against each other’s side. They hadn’t heard anything behind or in front of them, but that didn’t lessen their fear of where the tunnel might be taking them. It had been so long since they had anything to eat or drink. At least they hadn’t run into the feathered men. Eventually, and to their relief, the tunnel flattened and began to go upward. “Looksee,” said Jood. “See what?” asked Xenoth. “It’s totally dark.” “In the dark you can make anything appear,” she answered, then added questioningly, “Xenie, I think that I’m starting to be able to see.” “Me too, I think,” said Xenoth also unsure. “mmmmm.” “What’s that?” Xenoth whispered. Had they done all this walking only to be caught anyway. “Shh. Don’t say anything and don’t move,” commanded Jood. “mmmmm.” The sound was coming from ahead of them.

“MMMMMM,” hummed Jood. She had begun to imitate the sound. She squeezed Xenoth’s hand to remind him not to move. “mmmmmm,” came the sound. “MMMMMM,” replied Jood. “mmmMMMM.” Xenoth felt something rub against his leg. He froze, trying not to alert whatever it was that he was there. The rubbing seemed to go on forever, and then it stopped. “MMMmmmm.” “mmmm . . It’s okay now,” Jood whispered. “What was that? . . No, tell me later. Let’s just get out of here.”. As they went on, at a quickened pace, they found that it had in fact begun to grow light. They were able to see each other’s outline, then features, and finally they could see the source of the light up ahead. They could also hear a steady noise in the distance. “Xen . .” “I know, let’s not run out there till we see where we are.” Jood smiled to herself and squeezed his hand lightly. He felt the squeeze and remembered that they were still holding hands. While they were trying to keep from being separated in the dark, it had been necessary and he had gotten used to it. With the light coming up they didn’t need to do it anymore, but it felt okay anyway. As they approached the light, they found themselves at the bottom of another set of stone stairs. They followed the stairs upward, winding around in a three-sided pattern, the center an

open shaft. The light became brighter and the noise grew louder and louder as they climbed. They approached the top of the stairs and needed to slow down to let their eyes adjust. They found themselves standing before an arched doorway to the outside, covered by vines that made a pattern like the bars of a prison. They fought their way through the vines, Jood forcing them as far apart as she could while Xenoth slipped between, then Xenoth doing the same for her. The noise became a roar. They spread apart the underbrush and discovered an enormous waterfall no more than fifty feet in front of them. They squinted in the direct sunlight and saw that they were near the bottom of a bowl at the base of the waterfall. High cliffs surrounded them on all sides except a space off to their right where the water rushed violently away over a second set of falls. There were steps down the side of the cliff and they followed these to the bottom of the bowl. As they continued to look around and began to think of how they would get out, they realized that they were on the opposite side of the river. The tunnel had crossed underneath. Not only that. The sunshine was hitting the western cliff high above them. It was morning and they had walked underground through the entire night. Or was it a day and two nights? They had no way to tell. “We can’t go down river,” shouted Xenoth above the roar. It wasn’t just fear. It was a fact. He had walked up as close as he could to the top of the second falls and could see that they crashed violently onto rocks far below. And if those weren’t enough, the water continued to fall over a third set of falls below that. They

wouldn’t survive trying to exit the bowl that way. Jood joined him and looked around, then nodded her head. She gazed back up the stairs to the doorway to the tunnel. Xenoth shook his head making his position clear. “Hey,” she shouted, “looksee the falls.” Xenoth laughed and returned her smile. Why not? “It’s a sound engine,” he screamed to her. “You can do better,” she screamed back laughing. Xenoth stared at falls for a moment, then shouted back “It’s not the engine, it’s the sound. It’s there,” he said pointing up toward the top of the falls, “and it’s there,” pointing down toward the bottom, “and it’s everywhere between at the same time.” “What do you mean?” “What?” Xenoth screamed. “What do you mean it’s everywhere?” she screamed back. “We hear it now, but we hear it before and after as well. It’s in places and in times, and they’re all in our head.” Jood’s eyes brightened as she nodded and smiled. “How are we going to get out?” shouted Xenoth, stating the obvious question. Jood just shrugged her shoulders. They stood for quite a long time considering the possibilities. In a way, it was a battle between the known and unknown. They knew that they would be hurt badly, if not killed, if they tried going down the river. But what dangers lay in the tunnel they had chosen not to take were every bit as frightening.

Jood’s smiles and laughter were gone. Finally, after nearly an hour of looking around the bowl, she sat down looking defeated with her back against the cliff, her knees folded up to cover her face. She covered her ears with her hands to block out the roar of the falling water. Xenoth couldn’t believe what he was seeing. What was a kid going to do if a grownup gave up. “Let the feathered men come take me,” he thought. Better than sitting here and doing nothing but waiting and probably starving to death before anyone came to find them. Find them? Nobody would ever find the way in here. He felt tears start to well up, but he shook them away. “Looksee!” he shouted at Jood in desperation. She looked up from between her knees, her expression blank. “The vines,” he said, pointing above her head. She glanced around, then turned back to Xenoth, saying nothing, either not realizing that he was playing the game or not caring. “Fine!” Xenoth screamed. “I’ll play without you. They’re threads sent down by the feathered men to grab you up!” he said angrily, not wanting to blame her, but doing so anyway. He realized the moment he shouted it, that the vines were, in fact, the way out. Why hadn’t they thought of it before? He had seen them only as barriers to fight through. He slapped her leg and yelled, “come on,” and ran up the steps to the door. Jood sat for a moment, then as a flash of concern came across her face she sprang to her feet and ran after him. But by the time

she caught up, Xenoth was already climbing up the vines and was nearly to the top of the door. “Xenoth, they go only a little way up the cliff!” she shouted, but he was too busy climbing to pay any attention. “What will you do when you reach the end of the vines,” she said softly and therefore to herself. She began to climb after him. Xenoth poured all his energy into the climb, succeeding in his attempt to let his body take over for his mind. He didn’t want to think, not about the tunnels, not about Jood or anything. But the vines grew thinner and he grew weaker, and when he finally glanced up, he saw that the vines were about to end and he was nowhere near the top of the cliff. He had to stop. There were no more vines to grab and hold. The bushes that the vines grew from made a short line across the cliff face. He held on to one of the bushes and for the first time looked down and realized how high he had climbed, and how precarious his hold on the cliff face was. Jood was just below him and was struggling to catch up. “Xenie, hang on. . let me . . catch,” she groaned. The roar of the falls was not quite as loud as it had been, but still too loud for him to hear her words clearly. Xenoth had a good hold on the bush so he held out his hand and helped her up the last few feet. They held on together for a long time, trying to catch their breath, not saying a word or looking at each other. “We have to go back down, kid,” Jood shouted with a stern look into Xenoth’s eyes. Xenoth felt the word ‘kid’ burn, and a

rage built within him like he had never experienced before. He had gotten them a third of the way out of the bowl anyway. What had she done? What did she expect to go back down to? The tunnel? The river? Just to sit against the wall? He felt so much rage. He was angry with the situation really, but focused it entirely on Jood. There was no way he would do what she said, especially not what she ordered him to do. Without thinking for a second of the danger, he spun toward the cliff and began to scramble upward. “Xenie, no!” she cried and tried to grab him. It was too late. He was already out of reach. If he were to slip now, he would fall too quickly to catch a bush or a vine and would plummet to the base of the cliff. She had no choice and climbed after him as best she could. “It’s not so hard after all,” Xenoth thought. Each time he needed a new hold for his hand or step for his foot, one would appear. It was just like a ladder, only you had to make the rungs as you went. Step here. . see a handhold . . grab above. . see a foothold . . step here . . It was looksee, only you didn’t look. You just saw inside and there it was. “Xen . . Xenie, help!” Xenoth paused and looked down. Astonished at what she saw Xenoth doing, Jood had lost her concentration, had slipped and lost her foothold. She held on with her right hand while trying to find something to grab with her left or something that would catch her feet. “Now what have I done,” Xenoth said to himself realizing how serious her predicament was. “I’ve gotten Jood hurt or worse.”

“Just see it!” he screamed down to her. Jood looked up and their eyes met, but only for a split second before her hand slipped and she began to slide down the cliff. She tumbled, gathering speed, sure to plummet to her death on the rocks below. “JOOD!” Xenoth screamed, his mind bursting in terror. “JOOD! EEEEIIIIIEEAAKK,” he shrieked into the air with a voice louder than he was capable. “EEEEIIIIIEEAAKK.” His thoughts spun out of control. Where did such a cry come from? And the vision with it. He had seen the feathered men. They weren’t men at all. They were giant birds, each as large as a man, souring over the gorge. They twisted and plunged through the air, seeing what no person could. The bird burst out from the aerie, twisted in the air, and shot across the face of the cliff wall. Jood smashed into its back in mid air, breaking her fall and bouncing her onto one of the bushes they had left below a few minutes before. “EEEIIAAKK EEEEIIIEEEKK” the bird shrieked as it spun downward and recovered just before it would hit the bottom of the gorge. A second bird, then a third, and a fourth rushed out into the sky, and crisscrossed the cliff face screaming their cry and watching the two shapes that had invaded their domain. “Jood . . Jood . . are you okay?” Xenoth shouted down, thinking only of her and not the enormous birds. Jood couldn’t hear him, but after a moment she did look up. She was hurt, but gave a slight wave, trying to get Xenoth to concentrate on what he was doing.

“I . . I’ll get help!” and he began to climb again. See . . step . . see . . hold . . see

“‘You speak bird well, Xenoth,’ Jood teased me. We sat around the fire in the camp we had made at the top of the cliff. She was bruised up pretty bad, but was still able to climb the vines I had found and tied together and sent down to her. She was . . .” He could not find the words. “We talked about gatebuilding for much of the evening. I suppose that it really was there where I began to understand, and when I decided that I really did want to attend the school.” “So you gatebuilders climb around and talk to animals, eh?” asked Pax. “Oh, much more than that,” Xenoth smiled and laughed lightly. “We create paths.” “Hmm . . and so how did you get home.” “We flew with the Sohl. Oh I forgot to say, that’s what the creatures called themselves. Birds, but with legs nearly like those of humans. Beautiful, intelligent beings actually.” He half-expected Pax to laugh at the idea of birds being large enough to carry people, but the old man only nodded and scratched the ground with his cane. “From them I learned that my fears were my own, and only I could overcome them. An awfully powerful lesson that took me years to appreciate.” “And Le, er, Jood?” Pax asked. “Jood . . I never saw her again. The Sohl carried me to my home, but as we descended, I saw her fly on. Our eyes met and she touched her fingertips to her forehead and then was gone.”

“I see,” said Pax quietly. “Never heard from her at all?” “I did get a quick glance at her report to the Guild some years later when I was attending the school, but when I asked, the crats wouldn’t tell me where she was. They’re pretty secretive about their scouts. I have to admit, though, I didn’t try very hard. Might have been able to bribe one of them. I wish I had. There always seemed to be so many other things to do,” Xenoth sadly replied. “Now here I am reliving my life. In fact, reliving it backward it seems.” Xenoth glanced over to Pax and to Kith, and then around the prison box which now held an image of his home, the way it had been when he was young. There on the floor before him and scattered all about were the toys he played with centuries ago. “Am I now to become a child again, Pax?” he asked seeing the toys. If the pattern were to hold, reliving his childhood would be next. He half thought that even making the suggestion out loud would send him back to that timeplace. He would find himself reliving his youth, then telling about it, the two confused. But he remained in the box, looking around his old room. It was just as he remembered it, except for the old man sitting on the rocat with his chin on his hands resting on a cane.

Scouting Report

from Judges Division (JUD) to the Gatebuilding Guild

Case 84-275: GN 393; Xenoth, of Root Village Scout: Leme, JUD The subject is recommended for admittance to Gate School with an 1A rating and M1 priority. Over a standard period of observation the subject displayed especially rich character and fine ability to learn. In the three-leaf knowskills he demonstrated: VIEW: excellent power; sees patterns well, including multiple streams of timespace; good imagination DO: fine concentration; motivated; bias to act USE: appreciates and makes creative and appropriate use of tools Also observed was an incident of unusual talent in making. Mark as Potential Master. (See attached incident records).

Chapter 9. Breaking Through

Create your self

“I’ve done it, Demiou! This gate is a clear stepping stone. I’m destined to become a master gatebuilder.”

“It is an excellent gate, Xenoth. I can see that you learned much about building and, as a result, much about your self from the assignment. But be very careful. While your daily accomplishments do take you down a path of your creation, do not ascribe this to destiny. Destiny does not exist. It is a dangerous veil that will blind you to your responsibilities.”

“Don’t bother. They’ve forgotten us,” Pax said to Xenoth who was looking about to find the food stores. Xenoth kept searching for a moment, thinking that Pax might have missed something. Finally giving up, he returned to the center of the prison box where Pax sat with Kith. The image of his room in Root Village still surrounded them, but it seemed less real than before. It was pale, not necessarily out of focus, but fading from view. A pile of his toys sat on the floor, and Pax moved them about with his cane. The old man looked frail as he hunched over the toys. He inspected each one, first looking at it as if it were something he might be able to find a way to eat, but then moving it into what had become a sort of pattern, as if he were making something. Xenoth glanced down

at the toys for a moment, then looked again with more curiosity. The shape Pax was making was somehow familiar.

“Xenoth? Time for supper.” “Okay, mom. I’ll be there in a minute.” “That’s what you said before. Come here before it gets cold.” Xenoth frowned, but got up and walked toward the door of his room. Half way out, he turned and looked back at the toys on the floor. There was something special about the way he had arranged them, or had almost arranged them. Something was still not quite right. If he could only figure out what it was. “Xenoth!” barked his mother storming down the hallway to his room. “Your toys will still be there after supper. Now come out here and eat.” He had no choice but to leave his Rt behind, just when he was at the defining moment. He sat and picked at his food, but his thoughts remained with the toys. He moved each of them in his mind, trying to find the pattern that awaited discovery. “What are you doing in there that’s so important?” his mother asked. “I’m making a bridge. . Huh? That’s it!” His head jerked up from his food and his face lit up. He ran from the table back to his room. “XENOTH!” his mother shouted after him. She started to get up to chase him, but sat back shaking her head in defeat. Xenoth ran into his room and dropped to his knees staring down at the toys. “It’s a bridge! If I just move this here . . and this one over here like that . . then people can walk through on their

way to all sorts of magical worlds.” He sat back in triumph. Now he could eat supper. Of course, by the time he got back to the dining room, the table had been cleared. “Oh well,” he thought, “it was worth it.”

“What do you see?” asked Pax. “It’s a bridge I built as a child. How did you . . ” “A bridge? Hmmph.” Xenoth realized that Pax had started to play looksee. Had the story of Jood and the gorge gone to his head? “Why a bridge?” asked the old man. “Well, it bridges across here, these pieces make this side, and these others match from the other side, and it opens a space below for people and things to pass through,” replied Xenoth pointing to features in the pattern. “Oh, you mean a gate then?” “Well, sure I suppose, uh . .” Xenoth stopped in mid-sentence and stood frozen in astonishment. He didn’t know what to say. Pax was absolutely right. It was a gate, not a bridge. He had built a gate as a child. “How could I have . . it . . it . . a gate there in the toys,” he stammered. “In the toys or in your head?” asked Pax. “In the toy . . well, in my head, of course. Well, in the . .” Xenoth was too dumfounded to think clearly. “The shape came to me at supper, but it was there waiting in the toys. Well, not waiting really. I just had to see it. But not see what the toys were already. See what they could be. Like . . like the steps in the cliff.”

Suddenly he was back on the cliff face. “I’ll get help!” Xenoth shouted down to Jood. She waved back weakly from her perch against the bush, in obvious pain from the fall. Xenoth turned back to the cliff face and started to climb. He would have to pace himself this far down from the top. See the step . . step . . see the hold . . reach for it . . see . . step . . see . . hold . . see . . He gradually made his way up the cliff, seeing the next step or handhold in his mind then moving to it. Were these notches in the rock really there? Was he simply finding them in the rock? Or was his mind so focused that he was creating them? There was no time to think about it. Jood was hurt and he had to keep moving. “Concentrate,” he commanded himself. See . . hold . . see . . step . . The screeches of the birds crisscrossing behind his back would have scared him half to death had he given them the slightest thought. See . . hold . . see . . “Won’t get out that way,” said Pax, stating the obvious. Xenoth was up against a wall of the box. He looked to be trying to climb the wall, but he only moved his feet and hands up and down. His concentration broken by Pax’s voice, he slowly realized where he was and what he was doing. He stopped and stared at the wall, a fading image of the wall of his childhood room. He turned and faced Pax and said, “Is this how it goes now? Jumps back and forth between my memories and the box? Are we going to continue to relive bits and pieces of my life?” “I can’t say.” Xenoth stood looking at the old man, wishing that the goons would come and take him. This was surely a prison. He couldn’t

stand the thought of growing old here like Pax. He hated the old man for a moment, then was only sad. He saw that Pax looked older and more frail than ever. The old man’s eyes drooped. His hands shook as he pushed his cane out and scattered the toys. Xenoth walked over to sit beside him. As he crossed the box, Xenoth looked down at the toys and saw that they were no longer toys. They were requirs and strats, and his thoughts went to Klasrum. And then he was there. Looking around the work area of the factory, Xenoth mumbled, “ugh, why must I be here on Klasrum again . . wait, I’m here but I remember the box!” This was like the Natursys Forest. He was in his former body, but remembered the future. He saw the overseer Teech at the front of the room, and to his left was Dent working on a requir. Poor Dent. “How about cleaning the stables this afternoon, 83?” Teech said. It took Xenoth a moment to remember that he was 83, then he realized that Teech was warning him to get to work. He picked up the requir in front of him and began to work on it, but continued to look around trying to figure out why he was in the Gate School on Klasrum yet retained his future memories. This wasn’t like anything before. Had he escaped the box somehow? If so, would he now have to relive his entire life from this point forward? “Psst. Xen, the clock.” Xenoth looked to his left. Dent pointed to the clock, and Xenoth realized that he was saying that it was coming up to the time for the next Clang. They would have to finish their requirs just in time to be next to the line when the bell rang. But could this be the day they were caught? If so, Xenoth had

to stop Dent from timing it. Otherwise Dent would be intimidated into jousting without protective gear that afternoon. “No, not today,” he whispered to Dent. “What do you mean not today? You want to sit next to the overseer next Clang?” “No, just don’t time it today.” “You do what you want,” Dent replied as he started toward the door with his finished requir. “CLANG CLANG.” Dent had timed it well. He was sixth in line for moving to the next work area. Xenoth finished his work then joined the line. He was well back, somewhere around forty-fifth he estimated. Dent glanced back as Teech passed by Xenoth. Teech paused by Xenoth and shot him a glance. Xenoth knew what it meant, but only because he could remember the future. Teech was indicating that he was aware of their timing. He was smirking about the fact that Xenoth had missed it today. “If only we had known,” Xenoth thought, recalling Dent’s fate. But it hadn’t happened yet. He could prevent it. He could convince Dent not to time it anymore, and Dent wouldn’t be selected for the joust. He wouldn’t get hurt. But what would that do to his own future? Would he change things in some way that endangered his own future life? The lives of others? They marched into the next work area, recited the procedures, and began work on strats. “So what are you making?” asked Pax “A strat,” replied Xenoth out loud as he looked up to see the old man. But he wasn’t in the box. He was still in the work area,

and the other workers and overseer were staring at him. Pax was nowhere in sight. “What’s a strat?” continued Pax. “It’s . . oh, of course,” Xenoth started to whisper, then remembered that he only had to think the words. The workers around him continued to glance his way, wondering if talking to yourself was the first sign of going crazy. “Keep working, the overseer is watching you,” said Pax. Xenoth glanced up and saw the overseer glaring at him. He picked up the strat and returned to work. “You can see through me?” he asked Pax. “Through you? Yes, I see what you see, and hear what you hear. We share.” “Then tell me why I’m back here on Klasrum but I can still remember the box.” “The box shows only the truth.” “I know, that’s what scares me. What if I change something?” “So what’s a strat?” Pax asked ignoring Xenoth’s question. “It’s part of an arched gate. Strats form one column and requirs the other. The gatebuilder matches sets of the two, then caps them off with the arch.” “Hmm, quite a process,” commented Pax. “Yes, I suppose. Of course, that’s not how we really do it.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that we learned how to make pieces here, then later how to put the pieces together. They made us memorize some

archaic phrases, then taught us a set of strict procedures to follow. But that’s not how we really make gates.” “How do you make gates then?” asked Pax. “We see them in the . .” “WHAP!” Xenoth shook from the pain shooting through his hands and up his arms. A violent strike from a chawk stick across his knuckles. “If you don’t wish to work then you’ll clean stables for the month. Or, perhaps we have a hero in today’s joust. Workers, your hero, 83!” roared the overseer. “Yoo, 83! Bash ‘em, 83!” shouted the workers. “Pax, help me. I never jousted. I’ll be killed,” whispered Xenoth as he was escorted to the jousting field. “Pax . . Pax!” he said more loudly. There was no answer. He saw the crowds of workers and overseers, and toward the center of the field, the past workers and sponsors. “Xenoth, I’m proud of you,” shouted his mother as he found her face in the crowd. He couldn’t believe that this was happening, but his body and voice wouldn’t obey his commands. “83.” He recognized Dent’s voice. “Jump out,” Dent shouted between his hands. Xenoth understood and tried to nod but couldn’t. Then he was aboard the rocat and the sound engine went silent. The signal was given and the rocat sprang away. Faster and faster toward the contestant from the other factory.

“This can’t be real,” Xenoth thought. He had lost control of his muscles. He felt himself rise into position for the thrust. At the last minute he saw the face of his opponent. “No it can’t be,” he screamed inside. It was his own face. He snapped the ram into position and shrieked “EEEAA . . . . AHH!” Xenoth came down on his feet, but nearly fell on his face from the suspended movement. He stood in the center of the box, still poised to crash into his opponent in the joust. But there was no opponent and there was no joust. Only the dim image of his room, and Pax sitting on the floor up against one wall. “That won’t help either. I tried screaming for quite a while when they put me in here,” explained Pax. “I was in the joust, and . .” How could he have jousted with himself? It had felt real, but he had no control of it. And he had retained his memories. “Pax, did this happen to you?” he asked. Since the old man had been in the box so long, Xenoth thought that he might have had similar experiences. How long had Pax been here anyway. Xenoth had never asked. He walked over to where Pax sat and was startled to see that the old man had aged considerably. His hair had thinned, and his skin had shriveled. How could this be? They had been here in the box only . . Xenoth couldn’t remember how long. He sat down near the old man, confused, and watched the walls of his room fade from view. “Pax,” he said softly, “it was only just . . I was thrown in here with you and Kith.” He shot a glance to his side, then around the room. “Pax, where’s Kith?”

Pax turned his head slowly, and Xenoth saw in his eyes that Pax didn’t know who Kith was. “Oh no, I jousted instead of Dent,” he said to himself, realizing that he wouldn’t have been given Kith if Dent had not jousted. “What else has been changed?” he wondered aloud. “How could I have jousted myself?” “What’s that?” a female voice asked. Xenoth looked back to the source of the words. It was Demiou. He was leading her across the clover field. He smiled at seeing her and said “nothing, just talking to myself.” How could he explain to her that he had gone on to become a gatebuilder, and was now in a prison box reliving the past. Or would it matter? Was this really happening? Kith was there and then not there. The rocat shouldn’t have been there at all. It was all an illusion, he thought. Perhaps just confusing images that the box manufactured as power drained away. But was his exhaustion and hunger an illusion? He continued to walk out into the field. It was good to be back with Demiou, but something was out of place. It was the walking, he realized. If they were going out to search a square he should have been leaping the number of days. There was only one time that they had walked this way. “The 4-leaf dream is a powerful one, Xenoth,” Demiou said. This must be the day we found the 4-leaf, he thought. He looked out further into the field and he could see the bare spot. He knew that the 4-leaf would be there waiting for him. Such a joyful memory.

“It tells us of our responsibilities in the world,” she said as they continued to walk. “A gatebuilder is a person, no more no less. But the 4-leaf symbolizes for that person a responsibility to act on her dreams. It is her role.” Xenoth could not remember these words, but they certainly rang true. They arrived at the square and could see where he had ripped up the clover. He looked for the lone clover standing out against the dirt, then gasped, “It’s not here! The . . the 4-leaf was right there.” The dirt was bare except for the scattered 3-leafs he had torn up. Without the 4-leaf he would be dismissed by the Guild. He would not become a gatebuilder. “Of course not,” said Demiou, puzzled. “The 4-leaf is just a dream, Xenoth.” She looked at him with concern, questioning whether he had had the dream after all. Xenoth looked pleadingly into her eyes then back at the dirt. But what lay below him was the solid floor of the box. He didn’t bother looking up. It was no surprise to be back in the box. After a minute, he stomped his foot, then walked to the wall and pounded on it. It was real enough. At least as real as his senses could tell him. The image of his room was gone. All that remained were the bare walls, and the ceiling and floor, and Pax resting against the wall . . and the goon trying to hide. “Hey!” Xenoth shouted spotting the goon. The goon ran toward the wall on Xenoth’s left. Xenoth realized immediately that that must be where the slit to enter and exit the box was located. He ran to cut the goon off.

“Stay back, Xen . . uh . . prisoner!” the goon commanded. By the voice, Xenoth could tell that she was a female, but her features were masked by the loose robe and hood. She had stopped short seeing Xenoth run in front of her. Apparently, he was between her and the slit. “I just want to ask you a question,” Xenoth said. The goon hesitated and then said cautiously, “ask.” “I . . I’m confused. I was brought here to be tried. Yet you have left me in a box, here with another prisoner, for . . for how long I can’t even tell. What is happening?” “When you’re together you’ll be tried,” repeated the goon moving to the side to try to get past. Xenoth stepped in front of her and said “but what does that mean?” “I cannot say, Xeni . . gatebuil . . I cannot say, prisoner,” replied the goon. “Your voice. I . . do I know you? You’re not a goon.” As Xenoth walked toward her, she jumped to the side and ran past him, slipping through the slit before he could react. He ran to where the slit had opened but couldn’t find any evidence that it even existed. “Pax, I knew her. She was a gatebuilder not a goo . . Pax!” The old man had slipped off his cane and lay on his side. Xenoth ran to him. Pax breathed heavily and with a rasp. Xenoth could see it in his eyes. The old man was dying. “Pax . . Pax stay with me. Don’t leave me here.” He ran back to where the woman impersonating a goon had exited. He pounded

on the wall. “Hey! Help! He needs help!” But there was no response. He walked quickly back to Pax and knelt by his side. “Pax, you’ll be okay. Here, let me help you up.” “No,” whispered Pax pushing Xenoth’s hands aside with what little strength remained. “Build a gate . . for yourself,” he gasped. “I . . I don’t know what you mean.” “Build . . a gate . . now . .” Xenoth looked deep into Pax’s face trying to understand what the old man was saying to him. In Pax’s eyes, Xenoth began to see shapes. Toys and requirs, and vines and bubble vehicles, and transducers in a sound engine, and then a 4-leaf and the sohl flying above the gorge. And then Pax’s eyes widened, and he saw a reflection of himself. More than a reflection. It was himself. First his own eyes, then his shape, and as his focus moved back, he saw that Pax was himself. Only old and dying. And then he realized that the entire body before him was an image that had begun to fade, but a true image nonetheless. “It’s me,” he cried, backing away in horror. How could it be? As he watched, the image of the old man—of himself—faded away, almost to nothing. “I’m dying,” he said to no one. His mind fought with the idea that he had been in the box with his future self all along. Beyond that he could think of nothing but the terror of watching himself die. He heard Pax’s voice in his mind saying, “Build . . now . . .” Pax’s eyes froze in death. He breathed out but could not breathe in again.

“Build. . build . . build a gate . . how, and with what?” Xenoth stammered. He looked frantically about the box for materials and ideas. “Think, gatebuilder!” he shouted at himself. “There must be a way. . Ask of the situation. Generate alternatives,” he recited the gatebuilding processes that he had used so often. “I’m alive. I’m in prison. My future self has been shown to me. How could this happen, and what does it mean? I have to concentrate and do what he, uh, I said. If I don’t act quickly I’ll die here like this. No more rejuv. Just left in the box until I grow old and perish. But . . . but how could the box know the truth of the future? Do my memories destine me to this? Is my life going to be a haunting, watching myself relive memories over and over?” Xenoth paced nervously back and forth across the box trying to think of some sort of action he could take. He stopped in front of Pax and said, “My same clothes even. How could I have not seen who he was before. It was the only way we could have shared so much and so clearly.” He looked up and down his future body, trying not to believe. Something caught his eye by Pax’s feet. A small piece of paper had worked it’s way out just a fraction of an inch from the sole of his left shoe. “The manifesto,” he exclaimed. What did it matter if the goons heard him now. He reached down and pulled the paper from Pax’s shoe, held it up in his hand and shouted, “I’ll renounce all criticisms of the Guild!” Xenoth thought that such a proclamation surely would satisfy the crats. Isn’t that what they were after all along? He waited for a response that didn’t come. The box must be monitored, he thought.

Or was it? Sadly, he knelt by Pax’s side—his own side, he reluctantly accepted. “Build . . now,” he heard faintly echoed in his mind, but he saw no movement in his dying body. “But what can I build?” he asked of himself. In a flood of memories, what he thought must be a sharing of the moment of death, Xenoth saw the gates and peoples of his life. Elem and the other members of her cell by a fountain of Systemi City. A child singing a song that would trigger the idea for the City’s new gate. Standing in a village beside a natursys tree. The sapriders’ renewed respect for the complexity of the tree. Emen and a Traveler aboard the Physdesys. Breaking free of assumptions to see things in a different way. The clover field and vision of the 4-leaf in the night sky. The ability to build. But as the events continued to flood his mind, he saw truths that he had tried to deny. He saw Systemi City in the months and years after he had directed the building of their new gate. It attracted so many visitors that the fountains could not supply enough water. Additional water needed to be pumped in through long pipelines across the desert, and visitors unaccustomed to sharing a limited supply stole and hoarded far more than their share. Others were left thirsty. The riots of the following years could not be avoided. Then he saw the sapriders gathered in a memorial service for their leader, Pith. She had given herself to the tree, unable to handle the pressure of so much change in so little time, unable to

rid herself of the blame for decisions that had nearly killed the forest. And then he imagined himself aboard Physdesys on its last voyage, the gateprentice so caught up in the challenge of finding new species that he ignored the signals of a rift about to open in the sea floor. He felt the shock wave hit the ship and the hull collapse about him. “No . . .” he screamed, writhing in pain on the floor of the box as he imagined his body crushed. He had never wished for death before, but the physical pain, combined with the visions that his gatebuilding had caused so much harm, was unbearable. “Is there nowhere I did good for others?” he cried in agony. Xenoth went numb. On the brink of breaking down completely, a vision of a Klasrum factory appeared. But the factory was different. It wasn’t a factory at all, but a school. The overseers were teachers, kind and caring, fathers and mothers to the young gatestudents. Instead of pain and sadness he saw happiness in everyone’s face. He walked into what he had known as a dingy workroom and found warm bright colors and an air of curiosity. On a desk before him lay a strat that some student had apparently not put away. But as he tried to pick it up, his hand went straight through. It was an illusion, floating in the air. Was everything an illusion? He raised his hands and saw that they were not his own. Searching the room with his eyes he found the old portrait of Socrat, the gatebuilder who had planned Klasrum. Then it was not a portrait but a mirror and he realized that he was Socrat, and that he had planned Klasrum himself. And then the truth of what Klasrum had become—not the school he had

envisioned but an awful factory—returned to him, and the part of him that was Socrat cried out in horror and shame. The images came faster and faster. The forest, the sea, the desert. In each one, Xenoth was himself and then another person who had lived there his or her entire life. He was Elem, and then Emen, then Ment. Pushing through his confusion and the exhaustion, a pattern began to emerge. He saw Socrat’s shame as his own and knew Klasrum as Systemi City and as Natursys Forest and as all the gates built in the past. The eyes of his self and all others began to merge and the images of past and future slowly disappeared. He realized how the efforts of his life had been misguided by pride. He was in the box, in a single moment outside time. No pain, no joy, moving neither toward nor away, standing in an endless instant of here and now. Slowly time began to creep forward. He looked to the floor and into Pax’s face, and he felt a calm release of all that had been his past. He saw death and birth, and in that moment realized that he could build a gate for himself. Then his mind turned inexplicably to Jood in the aerie screeching to a Sohl. “Eeaakk,” he heard and felt the power of the screech burn through his body. “EEEAAKK,” came the screech, louder, as if a Sohl were standing beside him. “EEAAKK!” Xenoth stood tall and slowly turned about, feeling that the sound was real. “EEEAAKKK. EEEAAKK” And then he realized that the sound was coming from his own mouth. “EEEEEAAAAKKKK!” he screeched more loudly and with greater power than even the time on the cliff. “YOU ARE

ME!” he screamed at the body he had known as Pax. “EEEEEAAAAKKKK!! EEAAKK!!!” He felt the joy and freedom rush through him, and as he gave an almost hysterical laugh, he looked down to his future body and watched it first grow young and vital, then disappear. Xenoth stood absolutely still as the events of the previous moments snaked their way into his consciousness. He barely breathed, unable to speak or to hear, unable to feel anything at all. Then finally tears began to flow. He closed his eyes and shook, then sank to the floor, held himself and cried. For a long time he sat this way, rocking back and forth, sobbing. When the tears had dried on his cheeks, he continued to sit and stare, looking into his forearms and knees but seeing nothing at all. Then with a deep breath and a long sigh he emptied himself, seeming to release his entire mind, body and spirit. In the void as the stuffing of his years disappeared, he saw a fine web of silken threads remain. The threads were extraordinarily thin and flexible and suspended across open space by invisible energy. Yet the web was strong and powerful. Then with a more penetrating gaze, he saw that it was alive and continually growing. And somehow the more it grew, the greater the space became. It expanded outside of his self to include the people he had known, then all people, then all living and unliving things. And in this moment he became a child, and a prentice and a builder and an old man, all at once, connected in a timeless web. Finally, as his gaze slowly re-accepted the physical world that his eyes could reveal, he saw the walls of the prison box disappear.

“Hello, Paxenoth,” the figure beside him said, gently laying a hand on his arm. “Hello . . . Demiou? It is you, Mistress Gatebuilder Demiou,” he said, knowing that she was real. “It’s . . it’s been so very long.” Decades had passed since his prenticeship at the Clover Field. He had seen Demiou only in the images of the box since then. “Yes, it has been many years, Paxenoth.” “Paxenoth?” he asked, but then realized that he and Pax now were one. “Of course,” he said, giving a slight nod. “I am sure that you have many questions, and I shall try to answer them. First come. Let us eat and then rest.” It was as if her words were a command to his body. He had been lost in a place where food and sleep were not possible. Now he had returned, and he was famished and exhausted.

“Good morning, Paxen,” Demiou said as she saw him stir. “Have I slept long?” “Only three days. Less than I would have expected after so long in the box.” For a moment Paxenoth wondered if he were still in the box and if Demiou were just another image haunting him with his own memory. “Don’t worry, Paxen. Your trial is over.” “You could always read my mind, Demiou,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Uh . . . why do you call me Paxen?”

“Oh, we mistresses and masters have the habit of calling each other by the shortened forms of our names. I was Iourgos before Demi and I became one, actually.” “Ah, I see. You went through . . ? Wait. ‘Masters’ did you say?” “Yes. You are now Master Gatebuilder Paxenoth. The trial was a test, you see.” “A test? You mean you are the one who put me in prison?” “Yes,” said Demiou, not concerned that Paxenoth still saw it as a prison. It would take a little time for him to turn his new perspective toward recent events. “How . . why . . What if I had failed the test?” “I’m sorry, Paxen. If you had failed, you would have died as Pax. That would have brought me great pain.” “You would have let me die?” “No, Paxen. I would not have done so. If you had been let free, you would have distributed that manifesto of yours, and you would have been imprisoned by the crats and died as you saw.” “But the manifesto is true. I still feel as I did. Our schools and our gates should be destroyed. They do more harm than good.” “Paxen, I think you will find we are sympathetic to your views. We would not have secretly helped you become a master otherwise. But your methods, like some gates, would have done more harm than good. They would have merely stated words to be misinterpreted, politicized, or just cast aside. Your concerns are too important for us to let that happen.” Paxenoth stared into the distance lost in thought.

“Look at me now,” said Demiou. He brought his eyes to meet hers. “Who is ‘we’?” he asked. “Shhh . . Paxen. Just look at me,” she replied. “How do you feel right now?” she asked, but Paxenoth realized as he heard her words, or as he felt her words enter his mind, that her lips had not moved. “How do you feel?” she repeated, again speaking to him without opening her lips. “I . . . I feel . .” “Shhh . .” Demiou whispered, bringing her finger to his lips. “Tell me this way,” she continued without voice. “I feel confused,” Paxenoth said in his mind. “What questions may I answer?” Demiou asked. “How are we doing this? I shared so with Pax because he was me.” “You are a master now, Paxen. You will find that spoken words are a primitive way to share. Far more important will be your actions.” And with that Paxenoth realized that he was experiencing much more than words. He was far more deeply aware of what those words meant to Demiou, of what she intended to express with them. The words were now just reflections off the surface of a deep river of meaning, a flow he had previously left almost entirely untapped. “How do you feel?” Demiou asked for the third time, this time getting an answer. “I feel afraid and still confused . . and yet strong and peaceful . . and joyful at the same time. My memories fill me, yet there is great space for the future. The past and the present and the future

are all here in me in this moment. And I feel . . connected. I feel whole. My mind and my body and my spirit are all somehow together. I had no idea they were separate before.” “You are one, Paxenoth. That is what a master must be before he may build true gates.” “I have built many gates before, Demiou.” “Yes, Gatebuilder Xenoth built many, and those gates did more good than the harm you may have imagined. But they were mere hints of what you may now do.” A brief flush of pride crossed Paxenoth as his life’s work was categorized as ‘mere hints,’ but he knew that his pride was foolish and that some of the harm he had imagined had been real. In his heart, he knew that she was right. “Paxen, you would not be here today, you would not be a master if we did not respect your work as Xenoth. They were good gates because you are a good person. You built gates out of respect for others and out of good will. Those are vital qualities, but they are not enough. More powerful gates require that you truly appreciate the power of gatebuilding. And there is only one way to gain such appreciation. It is through understanding the risks, and the transformation, and the consequences of creating gates for yourself. This is the process of gaining understanding of your self. By creating for yourself, you create your self. Only with this knowledge can you be a master. Your choice to become Paxenoth rather than accept the fate of Pax, which, by the way, your self led the box to create, has made you a master.”

Paxenoth could feel a strength building within himself, and between himself and Demiou. They were sharing something ancient yet entirely new, a connection with themselves and each other and with other peoples and with the world. In a grand tapestry of possibilities an important gate had come to be.

Manifesto on

The Conditions of Gatebuilding ______________________________________________________ ~People of L-Urn, Travelers through gates, ~Builders of all true gates, mistresses and masters of the gatebuilding art, ~Officers of the Guild, owners of wisdom and makers of paths, With pain and sadness, I Gatebuilder Xenoth must state that the most exciting and wondrous creations of the past—our gates—are neither exciting nor wondrous for today. I fear they may never have been. Recall the Gatebuilders’ Creed. I use it fairly to partition and explain what has come to be:

hearts open free through pillars and key stone by stone we build our gates

We have lost the meaning of these the four statements of our creed. With each in turn we have gone astray.

Hearts open free We have become gatekeepers rather than gatebuilders. We fashion and keep guard over gates that close in, restrict access, and limit Travelers’ paths. We fail to build gates that open outward and free us all to new futures. We sign our gates ‘beware’ rather than ‘welcome,’ and they become exits to feared unknowns rather than entrances to exciting new possibilities. We place our gates at the boundaries of worlds, unconnected to either the world or what lies beyond, offering narrowest views of both. Common, therefore, is the Traveler who sees no gate, or through a gate sees nothing, or an abyss, or a wall rather than many paths. We create gates to create gates, not to open up new worlds for those that would pass through, and we seek change for the sake of change rather than for Travelers’ benefit. Our gates are places where Travelers claim baggage, packages they must carry with them as a burden, rather than places where passports are offered, tickets to where their hearts wish to journey. We see gates as physical entities, switches and valves to open and close, doors and windows to see or pass through. We have lost the power and beauty of gates in the mind and heart—gates to understanding, to knowledge and wisdom, gates to new worlds of our own making. We value gates for what they are rather than for what they help Travelers be and become.

through pillars and key Our gates are no stronger than the pillars on either side. We fashion ends to the right and means to the left in patterns of balance and stability. For stones of requirement on the right, there are stones of strategy on the left. For banners of purpose on the right wave banners of plan on the left. Matched are the base stones, the crowns, and the peaks. We have come to find humor in the apparent unbalance of ancient or more recent ‘experimental’ gates. We see their large and small stones, asymmetric to our perceptions, as the consequence of primitive cutting and carrying. We must awaken to the fact that beneath the surface there is magic in the unbalanced appearance, a structure more elegantly filled with possibilities. Our focus on appearance, on evens and squares, blinds us to underlying strength. For there is elegance and great strength in many strats or stones of means balancing a single requir or stone of ends, and many requirs balancing a single strat. Our Perfect Approach gives us Perfect Gates that float in the air not through magic but through lack of anchor or root in the ground. We take reference to ‘key’ to mean one must own a gate key to be able to pass through. In keeping our gates, we assess who holds keys and who does not. Our own records reveal this to be a misinterpretation and, perhaps, an injustice done many Travelers. Rather than refer to a key to a lock, the phrase means the key stone in the arch of the gate. ‘Through pillars and key’—through the

pillars and through the key—not through the gate after obtaining and using a gate key. The keystone unites the pillars, links the SppIrs, and carries the arch. Without it there would be no gate. Recall the ancient practice of mapping the features of the world on the face of the keystone. In this way, one saw the gate as representation of what lay beyond. The keystone served as basis for the Traveler’s understanding of the new world he or she entered thereafter. Our current policies of efficiency and standardization in the fabrication of keystones leaves every world entrance the same. Travelers no longer even gaze at the keystone, no longer stand and appreciate the gate. And they no longer see the gate itself as a key. As a consequence, they cannot see the Gift of the Gate, what the gate offers to others and themselves. stone by stone With each generation we create new patterns for gates. We fashion the Grand Gate in recent times, the gate through which multitudes may pass. For this gate we seek grandness in the number of stones, the number of steps the Traveler must climb, and the number of Travelers passing through each day. We create gods who demand that standard stones be laid and certain steps be climbed. We forget that these gods are of our making, and grandness of our choosing. Frightening it is but true that neither may serve the Traveler well.

Instead of single Grand Gates built stone upon stone, we must build many small gates, each a stepping stone to the next. The Traveler’s path is stone by stone, from gate to gate, each stone representing a leap to new ideas and possibilities. Our gates must be milestones, not endpoints. They must be markers of evolution, not revolving doors. Travelers of our Grand Gates see massive structure in the future and in the past and view themselves and others as being after or before. Judgment is passed on them for what they carry rather than who they are or what they understand and can do. In contrast, receiving Travelers as ones who move stone by stone, we offer them capacity to locate their own gates and to judge for themselves. The value of the path and the beauty and power of the gates are theirs to determine. Ours is to help them fashion nets to drag behind and to extend before, all directions to locate new visions, and with those visions, new paths. With these nets they would not capture but appreciate, not ignore the unusual but explore its potential. They would come to see that the Gift of the Gate lies not in the gate itself. we build our gates We interpret ‘we’ as us, the members of the Gatebuilding Guild, the privileged holders of the art, an elite class with knowledge and skills the common Traveler can never attain. This leads us to build our gates for ourselves and our Noble Sponsors rather than for

those who pass through, and to argue the majesty of the gate rather than understanding the Travelers’ lives. Gone are the days of magic. We have replaced them with the great machines and calculus of gating. But the essence of the gate flows from neither magic nor machine. Worshipping these false images we squander opportunities to take risk and to purposely wander in search of truth. As a result, truth wanders away from us. We fail to recognize that truth is ever changing, and the making of all peoples. It is not the property of our Guild. We continue the practice of signing our gates giving credit to ourselves as creators of masterworks. Instead, we must de-sign them, and take away names so that things may be seen for what they are or what they might be. To de-sign would be our great act of generosity, to share creation with those who pass through. The Travelers would see us and we would see ourselves differently, of course, but with this act there would be greater not lesser responsibility. This is the essence of the Gift of the Gate, central to our being builders not keepers. Alas, most damning, we assume that Travelers follow paths and walk through gates of our construction. We assume that Travelers of sufficient talent and learning who have invested much time and effort in the gate factories, have prenticed and traveled along the proper paths in proper sequence for proper lengths of time, may be able to fashion gates themselves. In this we fail to recognize that

all people including ourselves are Travelers and that all Travelers build their own gates and follow their own paths. Our task as members of the Guild must be to help others build gates for themselves: to help bring focus to a vision, to help find good requirs and strats to use, to help separate mortar from dust, to challenge with a possible path, to help find the strength to rise another step, to help prepare for the leap. All else for us is illusion. And so, I Xenoth recommit myself to gatebuilding, not to preserving the Grand Gates of the Guild, but to helping the common Travelers build their own gates. In truth, this is all that can be done. By this act, I carry out my oaths to L-Urn. With each journey I will come to know my fellow Traveler. Together we will learn reverence for our worlds and earn respect from one another. We will evolve to something at present unknown, we will keep our nets open to possibilities, and humbly, we will consider all gates unfinished.

______________________________ Xenoth, Gatebuilders Guild, GN 702

Chapter 10. The Next Leap Create with others, not for them

“It is time for me to return to my work and to leave you to

your own path.” “I understand, Demiou. But don’t you have any last words of

wisdom for me?” Paxenoth shared with a grin to his former teacher.

Demiou returned his grin but wouldn’t let him get away with the tease. “Seeds are planted well in you, Paxen, and they will grow if you allow your future friends to nourish them. We will all find joy in their fruit if you find joy in their growing.”

Paxen nodded and replied, “I don’t understand a single word of that, but I’ll think about it.” He surprised even himself sharing with the honesty of a child. “Ah, to be wonderfully ignorant again,” and they joined in deep, heartfelt laughter.

“We need to remove the roof of each spire first, then everything above the arch. We’ll have to support the columns as the key is lifted out,” Gatebuilder Embar instructed Dreme and the other grNts. They were here to take down Paxenoth 2, the largest traditional 2-column gateform ever built. “But why are we taking down PX2?” asked Dreme. “Just do your job. Plenty of time for questions later.” “But wouldn’t it be safer doing this during the day?”

“Do your job, grNt, or I can find someone else,” barked Embar. It didn’t make any sense to Dreme. PX2 had stood for only a month. But a job was a job. If she didn’t do it someone else would. So she walked off to get her gear, her eyes adjusting to the dim lights around the site. Still not pleased with the task ahead, she muttered to herself, “Why PX2? It’s so grand.”

hearts open freebuild OUR gates

ImageKeystone

Situation

Strats(stones of means)

Requirs(stones of ends)

GG

flag of plans flag of purposes

Gate Paxenoth 2

“Yes it is, but that’s really why it has to fall,” said a man’s voice from off the path. Dreme stopped and turned toward the voice, but she could barely make out the man’s outline. “Why do you say that?” she asked. “Everything has its time and its purpose. PX2 has served quite well. That’s why it has to come down.” “But everyone said PX2 was a masterpiece. At its opening they said that PX2 would stand for centuries.” “Yes, that’s what people believed at first. But that wasn’t what Paxenoth intended at all.” Dreme walked closer and could see that the man wore a robe and leaned on a cane, even though he did not seem to need the latter. But she couldn’t see who he was because he had the hood raised from his robe, hiding his face in shadow. “Rrrrgg.” Dreme froze, instantly realizing that the man had a rocat. “It’s all right, Kith. No threat here,” the man said. Dreme knew that she had nothing to fear from rocats, but their growls always frightened her anyway. “You seem to know an awful lot,” Dreme said, not really believing the man, but not dismissing his words either. “Tell me, what did Paxenoth intend?” she asked. “He intended this night.” “This night? You mean the Guild hiring a bunch of us to come out here and tear down PX2 while people slept so that they wouldn’t know about it until it was too late?”

“Well, the time of day doesn’t really matter. I suppose doing it now just saves some of their pride. As you imply, there probably would have been protests if they did it in the middle of the day. But perhaps not so loud as you might think. I believe that many people, many Guild members in particular, have come to see PX2 for what it really is.” “And what’s that?” asked Dreme, growing increasingly curious. “It’s a bunch of stones. No more, no less. People see other things in it, of course,” the man explained. “At first the Guild saw it as a grand keeper of tradition. Hmm .. keeper .. quite right. Ahem . . They thought it was Paxenoth’s apology to them for writing a silly manifesto. And with that big Guild emblem on the keystone they even thought it was a tribute to them.” Dreme detected something between sadness and embarassment in the man’s reference to the emblem, but didn’t quite understand the link. He continued, “Some see PX2 as a symbol of what our people have come to be. And there is the issue. They see it as important, as expressing their heritage and their way of life. But I’m afraid it’s just stones.” “I . . I like it,” Dreme said, trying to understand why this man would think it was a good idea to destroy a marvelous gate. “Oh, I do too, I suppose. Quite an accomplishment to get something so painfully conventional to stand, really. But you see, the grander the gate, the greater the danger of it being kept. That’s why Paxenoth built it so large and put on those enormous doors

and locks. He made it so big that the Guild had no choice but to see.” “To see what?” “Well, to see that they—the Guild members themselves—were behaving as these stones,” said the man, his arm pointing toward the gate. “Guild members . . stones? I don’t follow you.” “They hold up each other, nothing more.” “But . . it’s Paxenoth’s masterpiece,” she said, getting a glimmer of what he meant but not enough to see why the gate needed to be torn apart. The old man dropped his chin to his chest and kicked at the ground. “Masterpiece? I certainly hope not,” he spoke softly. Then looking up, he said “I’m sorry Dreme. Let me explain.” “How do you know my name?” “Oh, I’ve learned that I cannot help people who I don’t know. But you needn’t worry about that just yet,” he said sidestepping her question. “You see, PX2 is an abomination. Although I admit it is an important gate, in the sense that it showed us our foolishness. The Guild has been making these gates for centuries. It has become a ritual whose meaning is lost. Gates aren’t stones stacked up like this. They are openings in our minds and in our hearts. They’re not monuments. They’re ideas—ideas that take us to new futures. We build one gate only to get us to the next one. It’s what we do.” “Who? The gatebuilders?” Dreme asked. “Yes, all of us,” the man replied. “You’re a gatebuilder?”

“As you could be, if you wish. Or you could be something more powerful perhaps.” “Ha! I’m gonna be a crat too.” The thought of a grNt becoming a gatebuilder. Impossible. She had better stop wasting her time. If Embar found her off talking to someone rather than working, she’d be looking for another job. But her curiosity wouldn’t let her walk away just yet. “Me a gatebuilder,” she repeated softly. “Yes, you. You have vision, and you have faith.” He could hear Dreme’s disbelief in her voice and added, “You are a grNt only if you see yourself as one. When you are ready to be more, I and others are here to help.” His words frightened her in a way. Ambition was a dangerous thing for a grNt. But somewhere deep inside Dreme knew he was right. “How can this man know so much about me,” she thought, then asked aloud, “So who are you anyway?” “I know only a little about you. And I used to be an angry and troubled man, before bringing together my selves.” “Your selves?” There were too many confusing pieces for Dreme to connect. “Well . . what were you angry about?” “I saw terrible things in the world. Fear and injustice and great harm being done to people and to the land and forests and the seas. I thought I could do something about that by criticizing and creating plans for other people. Well, criticizing was not a bad thing to do, but making plans for other people’s lives? That was downright arrogant. Until I found it possible to create for myself and learned just how exciting and rewarding, and at the same time

frightening and dangerous that was, and until I learned to live with the consequences, I had no business creating things on other people’s behalf.” “But I always thought that gatebuilders were like missionaries going out and building gates for other people.” “Yes, we do some of that. But so often we have built for others when we should have built with them. It’s simply not ethical to do otherwise.” The old man paused, giving Dreme a chance to think, and wondering how much more he should say. “Those of us who have found it necessary to build gates for ourselves understand this sort of thing. Meeting that enormous and important challenge gives us a much deeper understanding and appreciation and compassion for others. “I . . I really must get back to work.” Dreme remained confused, but she sensed that this man somehow deserved her trust. She wondered if after the work here tonight she might be able to talk with him again. “It was . . interesting talking to you Gatebuilder . . uh” “Oh, forgive me. You still want to know who I am. It’s hard to say. I’m becoming so much more than I used to be. You can hear my name, and in the future you might come to know it if you wish.” “Uh . . is this a puzzle or something?” She really needed to get to work. “I am peace-filled change,” he said to her without moving his lips.

Dreme felt rather than heard his words. She stood, captured by the strange intensity, puzzled for the source, wondering if she had merely imagined his voice. It had been so strong yet calm. So filled with caring and respect. So clearly a voice of both humility and self-confidence. A voice so open to possibilities. So filled with joy. All of these things at once. Then as the man strolled away, she realized that her question had indeed been answered. He had shared with her the meaning of his name.

Appendix

Places & Things adventure - the name used by some gatebuilders to refer to

gatebuilding assignments/missions algo - the set of instructions to run the sound engine Balans 37 - a gate in the Natursys forest bubble vehicle - a transparent bubble in which sapriders travel

inside a natursys tree build - to construct a gate bus - a vehicle for carrying people and materials in a channel

within a probe ship carrier - one role of a member of a cell cell - a group of individuals working and living together in Systemi

City channel - a passageway in a sound engine chawk - a stick-like instrument used by overseers to punish

workers in a Klasrum factory chem plan - the plan for chemical support and enhancement of

Natursys tree growth City - the whole created through combined clans clan - many cells joined together for common purposes Clang - slang term used by factory workers to mean CLG; sound of

the bell marking the beginning of a CLG CLG - changing labor group; a pattern of specific time periods

devoted to work on different parts in a factory on Klasrum cover - a shelter inside a shell in Systemi City

crats - those who control social institutions, e.g., government, education, judicial systems, prisons

counselor - one role of a member of a cell cult - the political affinity of individuals in Systemi City damper - a device used to decrease the intensity of a received

sound wave Dinamk Ridge - an undersea mountain range subject to frequent

change due to intense volcanic activity dream - the image of a future gate escape tap - a tube inserted into a Natursys tree to provide an exit

for a bubble vehicle finder - one role of a member of a cell focus - degree of understanding of shared memory 4-leaf - a four-leaf clover; a star pattern in the shape of a four-leaf

clover freemind - an exercise performed by gatebuilders; involves freeing

the mind of current concerns in order to allow new ideas to emerge

Gage River - river running through gorge near Xenoth’s childhood home

gatebuilder - one who creates new gates gateprentice - a person working as an apprentice under a mistress

or master gatebuilder gatestudent - a student at the gating school Gating Guild or Guild - the controlling organization of

gatebuilders Gensys - desert in which Systemi City is located

Ghest - a cell type in Systemi City good fit - property of a message accepted by Systemi City goons - hired thugs; those who do others’ bidding without question GN - great or grand number; standard year designation grNt - lower class factory worker; manual laborer in general grower - one role of a member of a cell image - to create a mental picture of a timeplace intermission - a pause between soundings joust - a sport conducted on Klasrum keep - to control access through a gate; to maintain the status quo Klasrum - home of the Gating school; also, used colloquially to

indicate a world where young people are sent but do not appreciate

Kwit Brook - brook running through a forest near Xenoth’s childhood home

landing pool - a small pool of sap to catch bubble vehicles as they fall from an escape tap

launch tube - a vertical tube running from ground level down into the root of a Natursys tree; allows bubble vehicles to enter the tree inside water

line - standard procedure in Klasrum factories for worker progress/advancement; also the way workers move from one place to another in such factories

living space - areas of a probe ship outside of the sound engine looksee - a game of imagination; a player looks at an object and

tries to see it in different ways, to see it as something else maker - one who creates; also, one role of a member of a cell

mishN - a clan of Systemi City MonitR - a cell type in Systemi City Morz - a mythical jungle where evil resides movement - a section within a sound transmission natursys - a type of tree Ntropy Bay - a bay within the Nviro Sea; the destination of the

probe ship Physdesys Nquiry Ocean - the body of water east of the main continent of L-

urn Nviro Sea - the body of water surrounding Klasrum Physdesys - a probe ship sent out by the Gating Guild pick - to choose an object for an opponent to see in the game of

looksee port - a passageway inside a sound engine potent fit - property of a message that could be accepted by

Systemi City prentice - short for gateprentice prison box - a device/space in which wrongdoers are imprisoned;

creates realistic, “truthful” images of the past, so prisoners cannot go forward, they can only relive their experiences

prosS - a clan of Systemi City protect unit - a device worn over the ears to protect one from

transmissions by a sound engine; masks the frequencies of such transmissions but allows other frequencies such as human voices to pass

PursNL - a clan of Systemi City RelAshuns - a clan of Systemi City

ReCv - a cell type in Systemi City re-collection - the gathering of reflections (reflected sound waves)

and responses; a function of the SEND/RECEIVE area of a sound engine

recorder - one role of a member of a cell recovery crane - device used to retrieve bubble vehicles from a

landing pool rejuv - process of rejuvenation, of obtaining a continued youthful

body; also applies to rejuvenation of physical objects rocat - a sedentary animal whose external appearance is that of a

rock; can be ridden when mature; moves quickly and powerfully when aroused

rokitten - a young rocat Root Village - Xenoth’s childhood home Rt - short for Rtime; time devoted to leisure/artistic activities Rtist - one who is especially talented in some leisure/artistic

activity saprider - one who’s work involves riding in a bubble vehicle in

sap or water inside a natursys tree search - to look for a 4-leaf; to look for an image of a future gate season - the useful lifetime of an idea or message SEND/RECEIVE area - the area of a sound engine where sounds

are transmitted to the environment and echoes are re-collected share memory - rich communication making joint imaging

possible; or to be in the same timeplace shell - an area of land encapsulated by mist from a fountain in

Systemi City

sign - the identifying marks inscribed on the keystone of a gate that specify the builder by name and the chronological number of the gate in the builder’s career

simultalk - the communication practice of cells; involves members speaking and listening to other members simultaneously

sleep tube - a type of bed smRt - upper class factory worker sohl - giant birds living in the gorge near Xenoth’s childhood home sound exposure - a condition brought on by being exposed to

sound transmissions unprotected sound engine - a device used to probe underwater space; can be

adapted to serve other purposes above the surface sounding - a complete cycle of sound transmission and re-

collection square - an area of ground in the clover field normally searched in

one day stone - stepping stone, a leaping point; a starting point for sharing

meaning or memory structR - a clan of Systemi City Systemi City - a city in the Gensys Desert tech - an operator of an area of a sound engine timeplace - a time and place thoughtspace - a shared field of experience created and used in

imaging Thru - a cell type in Systemi City turn - a reversal or change in direction in timespace travel

ValU - ancient city on shore of Nquiry Ocean; sometimes used (to honor early mariners) as a reference point for land-based imaging methods

Wanderers - a people encountered by the crew of Physdesys wheren - where and when; a timeplace designation People Balans - builder of the old gate for the Natursys Forest CeeU - chief tech aboard probe ship Physdesys Demiou - a mistress gatebuilder; shortened form of Demiourgos Dent - given name of worker 37 on Klasrum Dreme - grNt assigned to help tear down Gate PX2 Elem - finder of a Ghest cell in Systemi City Embar - gatebuilder assigned by the Guild to tear down Gate PX2 Emen - tech aboard the probe ship Physdesys Infu - carrier of a ReCv cell in Systemi City Joc - worker 196 on Klasrum; a champion jouster Jood - pronunciation of acronym (JUD) for Judges Division; name

by which Xenoth knows Gatebuilder Leme Kith - Pax’s rocat Knol - boyhood friend of Xenoth Lancas - builder of the old gate to Systemi City Leme - a scout for the Gatebuilders Guild; known by Xenoth as

Jood Ment - a saprider Pax - old man found by Xenoth in a prison box

Pith - head saprider in the Natursys Forest Skolr - name of worker 1 on Klasrum Socrat - a gatebuilder who planned Klasrum factories Teech - an overseer in a gate factory on Klasrum Traveler - a person who visits, uses or appreciates a gate Xenoth - a Gatebuilder