Tagiri knew that sometimes when a Muslim says this, it is because he has too much respect to curse the way a Christian might.
"Probability of coincidence?" she murmured. "I was just thinking that it seemed as though she could see us."
"If I go back and we watch the scene again," said Ha.s.san, "then it will be four times, not three."
"But it had been three times when we first heard her say how many. That will never change."
"The TruSite has no effect on the past," said Ha.s.san. "It can"t possibly be detected there."
"And how do we know that?" asked Tagiri.
"Because it"s impossible."
"In theory."
"And because it never has."
"Until now."
"You want to believe that she really saw us in her nicotine dream?"
Tagiri shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she didn"t feel. "If she saw us, Ha.s.san, then let"s go on and see what it means to her."
Ha.s.san slowly, almost timidly, released the TruSite to continue exploring the scene.
"This is prophecy, then," Baiku was saying. "Who knows what wonders the G.o.ds will bring in forty generations?"
"I always thought that time moved in great circles, as if all of us had been woven into the same great basket of life, each generation another ring around the rim," said Putukam. "But when in the great circles of time was there ever such horror as these white monsters from the sea? So the basket is torn, and time is broken, and all the world spills out of the basket into the dirt."
"What of the man and woman who watch us?"
"Nothing," said Putukam. "They watched us. They were interested."
"They see us now?"
"They saw all the suffering in your dream," said Putukam. "They were interested in it."
"What do you mean, interested?"
"I think they were sad," said Putukam.
"But ... were they white, then? Did they watch the people suffer and care nothing for it, like the white men?"
"They were dark. The woman is very black. I have never seen a person of such blackness of skin."
"Then why don"t they stop the white men from making us slaves?"
"Maybe they can"t," said Putukam.
"If they can"t save us," said Baiku, "then why do they look at us, unless they are monsters who enjoy the suffering of others?"
"Turn it off," said Tagiri to Ha.s.san.
He paused the display again and looked at her in surprise. He saw something in her face that made him reach out and touch her arm. "Tagiri," he said gently, "of all people who have ever watched the past, you are the one who has never, even for a moment, forgotten compa.s.sion."
"She has to understand," murmured Tagiri. "I would help her if I could."
"How can she understand such a thing?" asked Ha.s.san. "Even if she really saw us, somehow, in a true dream, she can"t possibly comprehend the limitations on what we can do. To her, the ability to see into the past like this would be the power of the G.o.ds. So of course she will think we can do anything, and simply choose not to. But you know and I know that we can"t, and therefore choose not at all."
"The vision of the G.o.ds without the power of the G.o.ds," said Tagiri. "What a terrible gift."
"A glorious gift," said Ha.s.san. "You know that the stories we"ve brought out of the slavery project have awakened great interest and compa.s.sion in the world around us. You can"t change the past, but you"ve changed the present, and these people are no longer forgotten. They loom larger in the hearts of the people of our time than the old heroes ever did. You have given these people the only help that it was in your power to give. They"re no longer forgotten. Their suffering is seen."
"It isn"t enough," said Tagiri.
"If it"s all that you can do," said Ha.s.san, "then it is enough."
"I"m ready now," said Tagiri. "You can show the rest of it."
"Perhaps we should wait."
She reached down and pressed the b.u.t.ton to resume the display.
Putukam and Baiku gathered the dirt where their vomit had formed mud. They threw it into the tobacco water. The fire under it had died, so no steam was rising, yet they put their faces over the water as if to smell the steam of the dirt and the vomit and the tobacco.
Putukam began a chant. "From my body, from the earth, from the spirit water, I ..."
The TruSite II paused automatically.
"It can"t translate the word," said Ha.s.san. "And neither can I. It"s not in the normally used vocabulary. They do use sc.r.a.ps of older languages in their magicking, and this may be related to a root in the old language that means shaping, like forming something out of mud. So she"s saying, "I shape you," or something related to that."
"Go on," said Tagiri.
Putukam"s chant began again. "From my body, from the earth, from the spirit water, I shape you, O children of forty generations who look at me from inside my dream. You see the suffering of us and all the other villages. You see the white monsters who make us slaves and murder us. You see how the G.o.ds send plagues to save the blessed ones and leave only the cursed ones to bear this terrible punishment. Speak to the G.o.ds, O children of forty generations who look at me from inside my dream! Teach them mercy! Let them send a plague to take us all, and leave the land empty for the white monsters, so they will hunt and hunt for us from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e and find none of us, no people at all, not even the human-eating Caribs! Let the land be empty except for our dead bodies, so that we will die in honor as free people. Speak to the G.o.ds for us, O man, O woman!"
And so it went on like that, Baiku taking over the chant when Putukam wearied. Soon others from the village gathered around them and sporadically joined in the chant, especially when they were intoning the name they were praying to: Children - of - Forty - Generations - Who - Look - at - Us - from - Inside - the - Dream - of - Puthukam.
They were still chanting when the Spanish, led by two shamefaced Indie guides, shambled along the path, their muskets, pikes, and swords at the ready. The people made no resistance. They kept up the chant, even after they had all been seized, even as the old men, including Baiku, were being gutted with swords or spitted on pikes. Even as the young girls were being raped, all who could speak kept up the chanting, the prayer, the conjuration, until finally the Spanish commander, unnerved by it all, walked over to Putukam and drove his sword into the base of her throat, just above where the collarbones come together. With a gurgle, she died, and the chanting ended. For her, as for Baiku, the prayer was answered. She was not a slave before she died.
With all the villagers dead, Tagiri reached down again, but Ha.s.san"s hand was there before her, stopping the display.
Tagiri was trembling, but she pretended not to feel strong emotions. "I have seen such terrible things before," said Tagiri. "But this time she saw me. Saw us."
"Or so it seems."
"She saw, Ha.s.san."
"So it seems." Now the words admitted she might be right.
"Something from our time, from right now, was visible to her in her dream. Perhaps we were still visible when she awoke. It seemed to me that she was looking at us. I didn"t think of her seeing us until after she awoke from her dream, and yet she saw that I knew she could see us. It"s too much to be chance."
"If this is true," said Ha.s.san, "then why haven"t other watchers using the TruSite II been seen?"
"Perhaps we"re only visible to those who need so desperately to see us."
"It"s impossible," said Ha.s.san. "We were taught that from the beginning."
"No," said Tagiri. "Remember the course in the history of Past.w.a.tch? The theorists weren"t certain, were they? Only years of observation convinced them that their theory was right - but in the early days there was much talk of temporal backwash."
"So you paid more attention in cla.s.s than I did," said Ha.s.san.
"Temporal backwash," she said again. "Don"t you see how dangerous this is?"
"If it"s true, if they really saw us, then it can"t be dangerous because, after all, nothing changed as a result of it."
"Nothing would ever seem to change," she said, "because we would then live in the version of the present created by the new past. Who knows how many changes, small and great, we might have made, and yet never knew it because the change made our present different and we couldn"t remember it being any other way?"
"We can"t have changed anything at all," said Ha.s.san. "Or history would have changed, and even if Past.w.a.tch itself still existed, certainly the circ.u.mstances where we decided to stand here together and watch this village would never have happened in just that way, and therefore the change we made in the past would have unmade our very making of that change, and therefore it couldn"t happen. She didn"t see us."
"I know the circularity argument as well as you do, Ha.s.san," she said. "But this particular case proves it false. You can"t deny that she saw us, Ha.s.san. You can"t call it coincidence. Not when she saw I was black."
He grinned. "If the devils of her time are white, then maybe she needed to invent a G.o.d as black as you."
"She also saw that there were two of us, that we watched her three times, that I knew she could see us. She even got our era approximately right. She saw and she understood. We changed the past."
Ha.s.san shrugged. "I know, " he said. Then he sat up, alert again, having found an argument. "It doesn"t mean that circularity is proved false," he said. "The Spaniards behaved exactly as they would have anyway, so any change that came about because she saw us watching her made no difference in the future because she and all her people were so soon dead. Maybe that"s the only time the TruSite II has a backwash effect. When it can"t possibly make a difference. So the past is still safe from our meddling. Which means we"re also safe."
Tagiri did not bother pointing out that even though the Spaniards had killed or enslaved everyone, it didn"t change the fact that because of what Putukain saw in her vision, the people were chanting a prayer as they were taken. That had to have an effect on the Spaniards. It had to bend their lives, just a little bit, the sheer strangeness of it. No change in the past would fail to have some kind of reverberation. It was the b.u.t.terfly"s wing, just as they taught in school: Who knew whether or not a storm in the North Atlantic might not have been triggered, far back in the chain of cause-and-effect, by the flapping of a b.u.t.terfly"s wing in China? But there was no point in arguing this with Ha.s.san. Let him believe in safety while he could. Nothing was safe now; but neither were the watchers powerless, either.
"She saw me," said Tagiri. "Her desperation made her believe I was a G.o.d. And her suffering makes me wish that she were right. To have the power to help these people - Ha.s.san, if she could sense us, it means that we"re sending something back. And if we"re sending anything back at all, anything, then perhaps we could do something that would help."
"How could we save that village?" said Ha.s.san. "Even if it were possible to travel back in time, what would we do? Lead an avenging army to destroy the Spanish who came to take this village? What would that accomplish? More Spanish would come later, or English or some other conquering nation from Europe. And in the meantime, our own time would have been destroyed. Undone by our own intervention. You can"t change great sweeps of history by changing one small event. The forces of history go on anyway."
"Dear Ha.s.san," she said, "you tell me now that history is such an inexorable force that we can"t alter its onward march. Yet a moment ago you told me that arty change, however small, would alter history by so much that it would undo our own time. Explain to me why this isn"t a contradiction."
"It is a contradiction, but that doesn"t mean it"s untrue. History is a chaotic system. The details can shift endlessly, but the overall shape remains constant. Make a small change in the past, and it changes enough details in the present that we would not have come together at exactly this place and time to watch exactly this scene. And yet the great movements of history would be largely unchanged."
"Neither of us is a mathematician," said Tagiri. "We"re just playing logic games. The fact is that Putukam saw us, you and me. There is some kind of sending from our time to the past. This changes everything, and soon the mathematicians will discover truer explanations for the workings of our time machines, and then we"ll see what"s possible and what isn"t. And if it turns out that we can reach into the past, deliberately and purposefully, then we will do it, you and I."
"And why is that?"
"Because we"re the ones she saw. Because she ... shaped us."
"She prayed for us to send a plague to wipe out all the Indies before the Europeans ever came. Are you really going to take that seriously?"
"If we"re going to be G.o.ds," said Tagiri, "then I think we have a duty to come up with better solutions than the people who pray to us."
"But we"re not going to be G.o.ds," said Ha.s.san.
"You seem sure of that," she said.
"Because I"m quite sure the people of our time won"t relish the idea of our world being undone in order to ameliorate the suffering of one small group of people so long dead."
"Not undone," said Tagiri. "Remade."
"You"re even crazier than a Christian, " said Ha.s.san. "They believe that one man"s death and suffering was worth it because it saved all of humankind. But you, you"re ready to sacrifice half the people who ever lived, just to save one village."
She glared at him. "You"re right," she said. "For one village, it wouldn"t be worth it."
She walked away.
It was real, she knew it. The TruSite II reached back into the past, and the watchers were somehow visible to the watched, if they knew how to look, if they were hungry to see. So what should they do? There would be those, she knew, who would want to shut down all of Past.w.a.tch to avoid the risk of contaminating the past with unpredictable and possibly devastating results in the present. And there would be others who would trust complacently in the paradoxes, believing that Past.w.a.tch could be seen by people of the past only under circ.u.mstances where it could not possibly affect the future. Fearful overreaction or smug negligence, neither was appropriate. She and Ha.s.san had changed the past, and the change they introduced had in fact changed the present. Perhaps it had not changed all the intervening generations between then and now, but certainly it had changed Ha.s.san and her. Neither of them would think or do or say anything that they would have thought or done or said without having heard the prayer of Putukam. They had changed the past, and the past had changed the future. It could be done. The paradoxes didn"t stop it. The people of this golden time could do more than observe and record and remember.
If that was so, then what of all the suffering that she had seen over all these years? Could there be some way to change it? And if it could be changed, how could she refuse? They had shaped her. It was superst.i.tion, it meant nothing, and yet she could not eat that evening, could not sleep that night for thinking of their chanted prayer.
Tagiri got up from her mat and checked the time. After midnight, and she could not sleep. Past.w.a.tch allowed its workers, wherever they dwelt, to live in the native manner, and the city of Juba had chosen to do so, as much as possible. So she was lying on woven reeds in a loose-walled hut cooled only by the wind. But there was a breeze tonight, and the hut was cool, so it wasn"t heat that kept her awake. It was the prayer of the village of Ankuash.
She pulled a robe over her head and went to the laboratory, where others also worked late - there were no set working hours for people who played so loosely with the flow of time. She told her TruSite to show her Ankuash again, but after only a few seconds she could not bear it and switched to another view. Columbus, landing on the coast of Hispaniola. The wrecking of the Santa Maria. The fort he built to hold the crew that he could not take back home with him. It was a miserable sight to see again - the way the crew attempted to make slaves of the nearby villagers, who simply ran away; the kidnapping of young girls, the gang rapes until the girls were dead.
Then the Indies of several tribes began fighting back. This was not the ritual war to bring home victims for sacrifice. Nor was it the raiding war of the Caribs. It was a new kind of war, a punishing war. Or perhaps it was not so new, Tagiri realized. These oft-viewed scenes had been completely translated and it appeared that the natives already had a name for a war of annihilation. They called it "star-at-white-man"s-village war." The crew awoke one morning to find pieces of their sentries" bodies scattered through the fort, and five hundred Indie soldiers in feathered splendor inside the stockade. Of course they surrendered.
The Indie villagers did not, however, adopt their captives preparatory to sacrifice. They had no intention of making these miserable rapists, thieves, and murderers into G.o.ds before they died. There was no formula declaration of "He is as my beloved son" when each Spanish sailor was taken into custody.
There would be no sacrifice, but there would still be blood and pain. Death, when it came, was a sweet relief. There were those, Tagiri knew, who relished this scene, for it was one of the few victories of the Indies over the Spanish, one of the first victories of a dark people over the arrogant whites. But she hadn"t the stomach to watch it all the way through; she took no joy in torture and slaughter, even when the victims of it were monstrous criminals who had tortured and slaughtered others. Tagiri understood too well that in the minds of the Spaniards, their victims had not been human. It is our nature, she thought, that when we intend to enjoy being cruel, we must transform our victim into either a beast or a G.o.d. The Spanish sailors made the Indies into animals in their minds; all that the Indies proved, with their bitter vengeance, was that they were capable of the identical transformation.
Besides, there was nothing in this scene to tell her what she wanted to see. Instead she sent the TruSite to Columbus"s cabin on the Nina, where he wrote his letter to the King of Aragon and the Queen of Castile. He spoke of vast wealth in gold and spices, rare woods, exotic beasts, vast new realms to be converted into Christian subjects, and plenty of slaves. Tagiri had seen this before, of course, if only to marvel at the irony that Columbus saw no contradiction between promising his sovereigns both slaves and Christian subjects out of the same populations. Now, though, Tagiri found something else to marvel at. She knew well enough that Columbus had seen no serious quant.i.ties of gold, beyond what might have been found in any Spanish village where the wealthiest household in town might have a few trinkets. He had understood almost nothing of what the Indies had said to him, though he convinced himself that he understood that they were telling him of gold farther inland. Inland? They were pointing west, across the Caribbean, but Columbus had no way of knowing that. He had seen no glimmer of the vast wealth of the Incas or the Mexica - those were not to be seen by Europeans for more than twenty years, and when the gold at last began to flow, Columbus would be dead. Yet as she watched him writing, then spun back and watched him write again, she thought: He isn"t lying. He knows the gold is there. He is so sure of it, even though he has never seen it and will never see it in his life.
This is how he turned the eyes of Europe westward, Tagiri realized. By the force of his unshakable belief. If the king and queen of Spain had made their decision solely on the basis of the evidence that Columbus brought back with him, there would have been no follow-up to Columbus"s voyage. Where were the spices? Where was the gold? His first discoveries had not begun to repay even the costs of his own expedition. Who would throw good money after bad?
Without real evidence, Columbus made these extravagant claims. He had found c.i.p.angu; Cathay and the Spice Islands were close at hand. All false, or Columbus would have had a cargo to show for it. Yet anyone who looked at him, who heard him, who knew him, would recognize that this man was not lying, that he believed in his soul the things he said. On the strength of such a witness as this, new expeditions were financed, new fleets set sail; great civilizations fell, and the gold and silver of a continent flowed eastward while millions of people died of plagues and the survivors watched helplessly as strangers came to rule their land forever.
All because Columbus could not be doubted when he spoke of things he had not seen.
Tagiri played the recording of the scene in Ankuash, of the moment when Putukam told of her dream. She saw me and Ha.s.san, thought Tagiri. And Columbus saw the gold. Somehow he saw the gold, even though it lay decades in the future. We with our machines can see only into the past. But somehow this Genovese man and this Indie woman saw what none can see, and they were right even though there was no way, no sensible way, no logical way they could be right.
It was four in the morning when Tagiri came to the door of Ha.s.san"s wind-cooled hut. If she clapped her hands or called to him, it would waken others. So she slipped inside and found that he, too, was still awake.
"You knew that I would come," she said.
"If I had dared," he answered, "I would have come to you."
"It can be done," she said, blurting it out at once. "We can change it. We can stop - something. Something terrible, we can make it go away. We can reach back and make it better."
He said nothing. He waited.
"I know what you"re thinking, Ha.s.san. We might also make it worse."