Page 110 of Ruins (Pathfinder 2)

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The ship’s voice interrupted. “They intercept all channels of communication.”

“Do they?” asked Loaf. “Or are they merely capable of intercepting those channels?”

The ship didn’t answer.

“Answer him,” said Rigg. “Whatever Loaf asks, answer aloud.”

“They are capable of intercepting all,” said the ship. “Whether they actually listen, I cannot say.”

“I can,” said Loaf. “The Odinfolders haven’t stationed a human to listen to communications in many years. Nor do they use machines to do it anymore, because such machines would easily be found by the Visitors when they come.”

“So they don’t listen at all?” asked Umbo.

“They listen through the mice,” said Rigg, realizing.

“But Loaf brought mice with him,” said Olivenko.

“Loaf communicates with the mice,” said Rigg. “Don’t you?”

“More to the point,” said Loaf, “they communicate with me.”

“How?” asked Umbo, no longer crying. No longer surly, either. It was nice to hear Umbo being curious.

“By talking,” said Loaf.

Both mice were on Loaf’s shoulders, but one was facing Loaf’s ear, moving its mouth.

“High-frequency voices,” said Rigg, as soon as he got it. “Outside the normal human range of hearing. But because of the enhancements of the facemask, Loaf can hear them.”

“I’ve heard them since we arrived here,” said Loaf. “At first I didn’t know where they were coming from, but I heard a constant commentary on everything we were doing, a repetition of everything we said, but in another language. I thought I was going insane. And then we saw the mice at work in the library, and I knew. I heard them issuing commands to each other, and to the machinery embedded behind the walls. The Odinfolders thought the mice only knew one language, but they understood us from the start.”

“That’s why you went out into the prairie,” said Umbo. “Alone.”

“The facemask created an auxiliary pair of vocal folds for me,” said Loaf. “At my request,” he added. “I can produce sounds that only the mice can hear. I can speak their clear and beautiful and very quick language.”

“And the Odinfolders don’t know?” asked Olivenko.

“The Odinfolders aren’t in charge anymore,” said Loaf. “Mouse-Breeder may have put the altered Odinfolder human genes into them centuries ago, but they’ve been in charge of their own breeding, their own genome ever since. They are, collectively, the human race in Odinfold, and the yahoos really are yahoos, compared to them.”

“I did not know this,” said Odinex.

“You don’t know it now, either,” said Rigg. “Expunge this information from your memory and the ship’s memory, and the memories of all ships and all expendables. This must not be available to the Visitors when they come and strip the memories of the starships.”

“No need,” said Loaf. “The mice have already put programs into the ships’ computers that erase all references to their abilities within thirty minutes. It allows the expendables to talk to them for a while and carry on an intelligent conversation, but then the memory clears and it’s as if it never happened. The mice don’t need the computers to help them remember.”

“But the mice are so tiny,” said Rigg.

“Their cooperation is perfect,” said Loaf. “Each mouse is about as smart as an ordinary human child—not an Odinfolder child, not like you two—but it’s still quite a bit of intellect. Mouse-Breeder did a superb job of putting an overcapacity brain into a very tiny space. But what the mice have done for themselves is specialize and cooperate perfectly.”

“They each store portions of the library,” said Rigg.

“That’s why there are dozens of mice in every room we visit,” said Loaf. “They’re in constant communication with the vast hordes outside. Each one processing whatever his particular job is, trusting the others to do what they’re supposed to do. Together, any four of them are a match for any Odinfolder. But dozens of them? The human race has never matched such intelligence.”

“Except with computers,” said Olivenko.

“Computers are imitation intelligence,” said Loaf. “Memory and speed, but no brains. Just programs.”

“Aren’t human brains a kind of computer running programs?” asked Rigg. Certainly the literature from Earth said so.


Tags: Orson Scott Card Pathfinder Fantasy