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[Taken from Yol Slindo Merofort’s notes and videos. A charming aside which he recorded while on the Ronoi. RBB]
‘And what’s Daro been up to?’ Slindo asked the viewer which hovered before him.
On the screen, two slim female Purrs were in view. One on a couch and the other hanging from a bright yellow framework behind, with a child swinging on her free arm.
Another small blue face popped into view, upside down on the left of the screen, ‘Nothing. Haven’t done nothing!’ he cried.
‘And I’m supposed to believe that, am I?’ asked Slindo.
‘Honest, Dad.’
‘He’s being very good, Slin. He’s too worried you won’t bring him that teddy bear from Earth, so he’s been on extra special good behaviour,’ Eloo said, fishing Daro into her arms as he tried to throw himself from one side of the frame to the other.
They all laughed.
‘How’s it going, Slin?’ asked Viro, the other wife.
‘There are problems. Difficult to say, really. Biggest problem is that they are not unified. The first thing we must achieve is a single leader we can talk to, or a small committee at the worst, but at the moment, with few exceptions, each part of this world seems to have only flimsy relationships with any other.’
‘Teddy bear,’ cried Daro.
‘Shush, we’re talking,’ said his mum, pulling him into her chest. The miniature blue ape struggled to free himself and leapt back on to the frame, where he was immediately pursued by Rindo, the other child. They vanished off screen in a rolling tangle of blue limbs encased in an explosion of laughter.
‘I’d better go. This lady I’m with is likely to be leader of this world eventually. I must go and prepare her for the next world we’re to visit. Love you all,’ said Slindo and he cut the QE connection.
««o»»
‘Garincha, you got the documents from our ambassadorial support teams, especially that of Yol Ruud?’ asked Yol Merofort, settling back into his comfortable chair with a glass of drindle.
The ambassador flicked through the notes. Ya Mistorn read them over her shoulder. The ambassador drank from her glass, ‘Yes, Slindo, these don’t look good. What are we getting wrong?’
‘As I see it, they are all suspicious of the Federation’s economic system and are concerned that they are going to be worse off if they join us. Some of them, however, have a further problem. They see our system as eroding their own personal power. Yol Spence is a good example, but many of the leaders, including the more reasonable ones like Yol Hood and Ya Meunier, have an element of the same distrust. We need to find a way to counter this.’
‘Ha ha! Maybe they actually want to remain poor and working most of their lives to survive!’ said Ya Mistorn, flying from Ya Moroforon’s shoulder to the terasco, upon which she stroked a short haunting melody with a depressing bass climax.
The Ambassador said, ‘It does seem strange that they prefer to work long hours rather than receive a sensible income for doing what interests them. Call in Bod Herodeen, Slindo.’
The powder blue ape spoke a few words into his wristwatch.
‘He’ll be here shortly.’
‘Slindo, do we need to demonstrate how actual Earth industries could be mechanised?’ asked Ya Moroforon.
‘They have all been viewing industrial areas of the planets they’ve been visiting. We’ve answered questions and discussed the systems with all of them, but it still lodges in their minds as something we do, but they can’t,’ said Slindo. ‘I have a feeling much of it might come down to individual wealth. They seem less interested in the bulk of the population having an improved lifestyle than the problems wealthy individuals who own profitable businesses might cause them when they’re told their income source is about to stop.’
‘We can always mitigate that over a few years,’ said the Ambassador.
‘They have a sense they are losing something, yet even the wealthiest Earth business owner will have an adequate income plus a graduated extra amount to cover their shock. It falls on deaf ears,’ said Yol Merofort.
There was a chime from the door and Yol Herodeen entered, a tall, slender humanoid enfolded in a blue and red robe which had a feature of a thick, oversized, velvet collar in a contrasting magenta.
‘Thanks for coming, Bod. Would you like a glass of drindle?’ asked the Ambassador.
‘Thank you, Ya Moroforon,’ he said.
A drinks-bot trundled across the room and delivered a measure of drindle, in a heavy cut glass tumbler, to Yol Herodeen who settled into an armchair.
‘What impression are you getting from Ya Okafor and the leaders who are travelling on the flagship for their visits?’ asked the Ambassador.
‘As you know, we have broken the seven of them into two groups of three with Ya Okafor alternating between each. Yol Mahmood, Egypt, Ya Eze, Nigeria and Yol Ahmadi, Iran, seem enthralled with the mechanisation they’ve been seeing. Yol Yamata, Japan, Ya Sillic, Croatia, and Yol Janssen, Netherlands, less so. Ya Okafor, herself, seems very open to all aspects of the Federation,’ said Yol Herodeen.
‘So, why aren’t the last three impressed by the factories?’ asked Yol Merofort. ‘That last one yesterday had more than sixty products in production at the same time. What is there for them to not like?’
‘I think it is suspicion,’ Yol Herodeen said. ‘You must remember that if they move all their production to automated factories, the people will suddenly have no use for their expertise and knowledge. I think part of it is a fear of how that will be explained to their populations, especially Yol Yamata and Yol Janssen.’
‘Yes, I see,’ said the Ambassador.
‘But surely they must see the sense of freeing up their citizens’ time. Surely no one would prefer to make gadgets rather than being able to indulge their own hobbies?’ asked Ya Mistorn.
'It is different with the two leaders of Islamic countries, Yol Mahmood and Yol Ahmadi. I think there may be religious worries behind the scenes, and I've noticed how they've kept themselves apart from the others,' said Yol Herodeen.
‘Did you know they pray to their god several times a day?’ asked Ya Mistorn.
‘Really?’ asked Ya Moroforon.
‘Yes. I’ve watched them,’ she said as she flew back from the terasco to hover behind the Ambassador.
‘Garincha, I think we ought to spend some time alone with Ya Okafor, on a more informal basis and talk through the problems,’ said Yol Merofort.
‘Set it up, Slindo. After tomorrow’s visit. In here. Where are we tomorrow?’
‘Dabrune, it’s the transition world,’ said Ya Mistorn.
««o»»
[The following is taken from Paula Wilson's diaries again, with occasional reference to Yol Merofort's notes. RBB]
I had to pinch myself each time we disembarked. This time we were on a planet called Dabrune. They had only been members of the Federation for two years so were very much in a transition phase.
Today Perfect was with Yol Merofort, Yol Herodeen, Prime Minister Yamata, President Sillic and Prime Minister Janssen. Our shuttle detached itself and within a few seconds we were preparing to step onto the surface.
What an extraordinarily colourful world. Absolutely beautiful. The shuttle hovered behind us and we were standing on what looked, for all the world, like a seaside esplanade, but the scene gave the impression it had been painted by numbers though only after someone had shaken the palette.
In the far distance, were some islands. They sat low in the water and were a subdued, flaxen, fawn, latte, and marigold. The softness of the warm orangey colours was not untypical of distant objects in a landscape, but their outlines and shapes seemed somehow, gentle, delicate, welcoming. I thought immediately that if I were walking on them, the texture underfoot would be of velvet.
What set them off was, of course, the sea. Between the beach and the islands lay, maybe, five miles of pale, liquid amethyst, sprinkled with waves comprising plum swells and the palest crests. It was breathtaking.
The blush pink foamy waves slipped landwards up the beach, carrying the sound of tumbling gravel as if in some romantic movie. Even the multi-coloured pebbles themselves looked unreal. Had they, perhaps, been painted individually in all the shades of brown and gold which could ever be conceived?
As we stood on the contrasting dull slate tarmac of the esplanade, everyone in the party was silent, looking, mouths open, at the scene. The stillness lasted only a few seconds when the trance was broken by the sound of a dozen camera shutters, real or electronic. Everyone was taking photographs and talking in hushed tones about how amazing the tableau was.
I took a number of photographs myself and, for sure, one of them would adorn my lounge forever and a day. I never wanted the first sight of this world to fade from my memory.
A vehicle approached. An open fifteen-seat carriage, being driven by, presumably, a couple of Dabrunians. One stayed behind the driving wheel while the other stepped down and came over to meet us. Yol Merofort took his appendage, turned to us and said, ‘This is Ya Errofin and her driver is...’
‘He is Yol Drayk. Welcome to Dabrune and also to Stat, the town,’ said the creature in a wistful-sounding musical voice, which rose and fell melodically with each syllable.
We all acknowledged the welcome and were invited to climb aboard. The people of Dabrune, were pale skinned, but there was a distinct hint of pistachio, making them look a little as if they had a classic case of white-man’s seasickness, if you’ll forgive the analogy. They had a number of upper limbs, some resembling tentacles with tiny suckers and others just pointed feelers. I noticed the driver was using his longest feelers to control the vehicle; they wrapped themselves around the handlebars. I guessed the Dabrunians were marine creatures in their not too distant past.
‘Our first trip today is to a golardro farm just outside the town,’ said Ya Errofin. ‘Golardros are vegetables which are an important staple food. In other locations, Federation technicians have been perfecting some of the cultivation needs and the equipment is being used on the farm we are visiting for the very first time. Yol Merofort asked us to wait until your arrival.’
‘Please explain the original cultivation system, Ya Errofin,’ said Yol Herodeen.
‘Yes. This is a golardro seed,’ she said, raising an object the size of an acorn attached to a sucker on her limb. ‘They are ground down to make flour which, in turn, becomes part of many other foods. Originally the soil was cleared of the old growth and then ploughed ready for later seeding.’ She passed half a dozen seeds back to us to examine.
‘They are safe for humans to touch but not eat,’ said Yol Herodeen.
The Dabrunian continued. ‘Seeds were then planted and watered during dry periods. At harvest time they were shaken from the plants and taken away for grinding and processing. With us having no seasons, fewer planters and harvesters are needed as they can move from farm to farm all year round.’
‘Did you use any mechanisation?’ asked Prime Minister Yamata.
‘Oh, yes. We cleared the land with tractors dragging rakes, ploughed the fields using attached ploughs and so on. Today you will see the new Federation cultivators in use. We’ll be there shortly.’
We’d moved into countryside. Fields were divided by hedges and there was also woodland and even a forest on a slope up to our left. Once again, colours were unexpected, and the shades of trees, plants and hedges explained the ochre colour palette of the islands.
Our transport turned into a farm entrance where there were a number of Dabrunians and some other alien species standing around. To their right stood a machine, about ten times the size of a combine harvester. It was huge. I’d seen large machines in the vast fields of the prairies, but this was way beyond any Earth machine. It stood at the entrance to a number of fields.
Yol Merofort was first out of the transport and, with Ya Errofin, was soon deep in conversation with two Racutaans. I was quite pleased that I was able to recognise Ya Moroforon’s species as they were dressed in coveralls, completely unlike the Ambassador’s robes.
‘These are Federation engineers and will explain what you are about to see,’ said Ya Errofin.
The taller of the two came forward. ‘This is an automated cultivator which has been designed specifically for this crop. Once we set it going, no one will ever have to visit this farm again. If it develops a fault, engineer bots will arrive and repair, rebuild or replace.’
‘How do the people who live here feel about that?’ asked Prime Minister Janssen.
A small Dabrunian stepped up. ‘My family have worked this farm all our lives and for many generations. To make money, I, my wife and two daughters had to rise at dawn and work all daylight hours to manage our crops and animals. From today, I can do all of the things I’ve always been interested in. The machines will do everything. We’ve already had automaton livestock managers for more than a year, and this is the final step. I am absolutely delighted.’
‘But aren’t you going to be much poorer? You won’t get any of the profits now,’ said Prime Minister Janssen.
‘No profits and none of the work, either. We already have more than enough Afeds to live on and I am able to continue my interest in rare breed pluffoos, those feathered things over there,’ he said pointing a tentacle towards a cackling flock of four-legged chickens. ‘I couldn’t be happier. We were a little apprehensive at first, losing our income, but it's worked out fine and this is the last stage. Switch the damn thing on, then my chores are finally over!’
‘Is this machine truly able to make all of its own decisions?’ asked Prime Minister Yamata.
The Federation engineer said, ‘Yes. If it encounters anything unusual it will usually be able to adjust for it. In the worst situation it will contact central control.’
‘Is there a person there to assist?’ asked President Sillic.
‘No, Ya Sillic, just powerful processing machines. There is no point in designing a system that needs a person to be involved,’ said the engineer.
‘But what if someone stands in the way of the machine and refuses to move?’ asked President Sillic.
‘Police bots would come and convince them to move and, if necessary, arrest them,’ said the engineer.
‘What if the person was violent?’
‘Police bots can deal with any eventuality,’ chipped in Yol Merofort. ‘The Federation has been refining automatons for millennia. This world may be new to our machines, but the Federation is hundreds of thousands of years old and has been mechanised for most of it.’
‘What about allowing the land to recover by planting a different crop or by letting it lie fallow?’ asked Prime Minister Jannson.
‘The machines report to central control who ensure the land is kept in peak condition by growing and ploughing in fertilising crops. Can I activate it?’ asked the engineer.
‘Please, please,’ said the farmer.
There was no actual switch, of course. The machine came to life on a verbal command which included a ten-digit number. A powerful sounding engine broke the quiet. It swung slightly to the right, entered the field and turned left alongside the hedge. The noise levels rose somewhat. It slowly moved forward alongside the hedge. A second machine pulled up to the side of the cultivator and scrubby vegetation was soon being tossed into it.
Gradually, bare soil was visible at the back and a light cascade of water was being sprayed over it.
‘The cultivator has a store of golardro seeds and water,’ said the engineer. ‘The other machine collects the débris. Another two are waiting over there.’ We all looked towards the parked trucks. He continued, ‘The raking ploughing system is all hidden from view, the seeds are planted, and the rear reveals the planted surface.’
The second machine entered the field and continued to collect the scrub, the first one left the farm and turned onto the main road. ‘There’s a collector vehicle a few fields up the road. It will shed its load and return,’ said the engineer.
'Why did we come in a manually driven machine? Why wasn't it autonomous?' asked the Secretary General.
'Ha ha, well, the driver, Yol Drayk, has an interest in old cars and buses and he drives them as a hobby. He loves doing it. A benefit of his old job disappearing,' said Ya Errofin. ‘He gets to drive them whenever the opportunity arises. When he knew visitors were coming, he pestered me to distraction until I agreed he could drive.’
We watched the cultivator for about an hour, during which time it filled a dozen trailers with scrub, received more water from a tanker and more golardro seeds from a supply vehicle.
Back at the shuttle, as dusk fell, a sunset added another full colour palette to the scene and there were more photographs, including plenty of selfies. The evening was balmy and pleasant; the gentle pink surf and its swishing gravel attempted to mesmerise us.
‘We’re close to the centre of the galaxy here, so we’re staying until it’s dark to let you see the sky,’ said Yol Herodeen. ‘Have your cameras ready. It’s amazing.’
As the light faded, the sky began to glow. An increasing number of spectacular clouds of space dust appeared, all incandescent from the star-fields within them. The galactic core was a fiery mass of gold covering half the sky. Throughout the vista were splashes of fire, tangerine, fuchsia, sapphire and pear – visual remnants of supernovae and pockets of star creation. I’d noticed vague spots of brightness even in the daylight, but it was only now that I could really see what it was and enjoy its magnificence. How fortunate I felt, to be among this special group of people, transported halfway across the Milky Way to witness this world.
We’d all had the most exciting and informative visit.
The shuttle took us to an auditorium where we were given a presentation on how Dabrune was adapting to Federation membership including health, social care, and infrastructure.
I remember returning to my cabin on the flagship, absolutely exhausted. I was asleep the instant my head hit the pillow.