uplift4.brightnessreef-第105部分

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　　I　may　join　the　tribe　or　clan　that　adopts　me　off　the　plain。
　　I　may　obey　a　leader…for　life　has　hierarchies　that　one　must　endure。
　　Yet　inside　I　serve　one　mistress。　Me！
　　Can　humans　ever　know　how　their　gross　smell　scrapes　my　nostril　membranes？　They　make　good　warriors　and　smiths；　it's　true。　They　brought　fine　music　to　Jijo。　These　are　valid　things。
　　Yet　one　conceives　how　much　better　the　world　would　be　without　them。
　　We　had　fought　our　way　up　high　before　they　came。　From　the　plains　to　fiery　mountaintops；　we　stretched　our　necks　over　all　others　on　Jijo…till　these　bipeds　dragged　us　down；　to　be　just　another　race　among　Six。
　　Worse；　their　lore　reminds　us…（me！）…how　much　we　have　lost。　How　much　is　forgotten。
　　Each　day　they　make　me　recall　how　low　and　brief　my　life　is　doomed　to　be；　here　on　this　spinning　ball　of　mud；　with　bitter　oceans　all　around。。。
　　The　indignant　narration　gallops　past　our　ability　to　follow。　Its　resentful　thread　is　lost；　but　another　takes　its　place；　imposed　from　the　outside　by　a　force　that　throbs　through　the　little　mountain　vale。
　　This　beat　is　much　easier　to　follow。　A　cadence　that　is　heavy；　slow　to　anger…and　yet；　once　roused；　its　ire　seems　hopeless　to　arrest　short　of　death。
　　It　is　not　a　rhythm　to　be　rushed。　Still；　it　beckons　us。。。　Beckons　us　to　ponder　how　often　the　quicker　races　tease　we　poor；　patient　hoon；
　　how　they　swirl　around　us；
　　how　often　they　seem　to　talk　fast　on　purpose；
　　how　they　set　us　to　the　most　dangerous　tasks；
　　to　face　the　sea　alone；　although　each　lost　ship　wrenches　a　hundred　loved　ones；　tearing　our　small　families　apart　with　wrenching　pain。
　　Humans　and　their　stinking　steamboats；　they　have　kept　the　skills；　pretending　to　share；　but　not　really。　Someday　they　will　leave　us　rotting　here；　while　they　go　off　on　ships　made　of　pure　white　light。
　　Should　this　be　allowed？　Are　there　ways　they　can　be　made　to　pay？
　　Confusion　reigns。
　　If　these　pernicious　messages　were　meant　for　each　separate　race…to　sway　it　toward　aggression…then　why　are　we/i　receiving　all　of　them？　Should　the　Rothen　not　have　targeted　each　sept　to　hear　one　theme；　alone？
　　Perhaps　their　machine　is　damaged；　or　weak。
　　Perhaps　we　are　stronger　than　they　thought。
　　Breaking　free　of　the　hoonish　rhythm；　we　sense　that　two　layers　of　bitter　song　remain。　One　is　clearly　meant　for　Earthlings。　Reverence　is　its　theme。　Reverence　and　pride。
　　We　are　superior。　Others　specialize　but　we　can　do　anything！　Chosen　and　raised　by　mighty　Rothen；　it　is　proper　that　we　be　greatest；　even　as　castaways　on　this　slope　of　savages。
　　If　taught　their　place；　the　others　might　learn　roles　of　worthy　service。。。
　　we/i　recall　a　phrase。　Direct　empathic　transmission…a　technique　used　by　Galactic　science　for　the　better　part　of　half　a　billion　years。
　　Knowing　makes　the　manipart　stream　of　voice　seem　more　artificial；　tinny；　even　self…satirical。　Of　course　this　message　was　to　have　been　amplified　somehow　through　our　Holy　Egg；　at　a　time　when　we　would　be　most　receptive。　Even　so；　it　is　hard　to　imagine　such　prattle　winning　many　believers。
　　Did　they　actually　think　we　would　fall　for　this？
　　Another　fact　penetrates　our　attention：　There　is　no　layer　for　the　wheeled　ones！　Why　is　that？　Why　are　the　g'Kek　left　out？　Is　it　because　of　their　apparent　uselessness　in　a　program　of　genocidal　war？
　　Or　because　they　were　already　extinct；　out　there　among　the　stars？
　　One　resonance　remains。　A　drumbeat；　like　hammers　pounding　on　stacks　of　stiff　round　tubes。　A　reverberation　that　howls　in　a　manner　this　posite　self　finds　eerily　familiar。
　　Yet；　in　some　ways　it　is　the　most　alien　of　all。