It had once been a beautiful and thriving metropolis. As we passed throughovergrown parks and forlorn plazas with their gutted stores and unkempt,hushed streets, it felt as if the world itself mourned its erstwhile inhabitants: thefamilies that once worked, slept, and played there; the sightseers gamboling laggardlypast picturesque shops, lured by the enticing aromas of cafes and restaurants ringingwith the lively conversations of friends and lovers; the wayfarers and dreamers awedby the splendor of its opulent architecture and attractions. All of these lives were longvanished; their stories and vibrant memories, lost to oblivion.

And here we were, who knows how long after, witnesses to a city that hadtransformed into a tomb.

【资料图】

“Depressing,” I whispered, “and it’s just one ghost city in a whole ghost nation.”

“It’s good for the planet if nothing else,” remarked Cuenyne.

“You can be certain the corporations and their political allies had something to dowith it,” I said ardently.

“That’s an old story,” Cuenyne argued. “This kind of thing dœsn’t happenovernight and without the consent of a dull-witted, complacent citizenry who stoodby and let it happen. A few probably raised their voices, but always too little, toolate.”

“You’re a droid…” I started.

“Thank the Maker…”

“Information is instantaneous for you. You don’t realize how easy it is for those inpower to turn peoples’ good traits—loyalty, honor, and the need for stability—to evilends. The systems that are in place are sophisticated and designed to do just that, tokeep organics blind, anxious, distracted, and deceived. Droids don’t have to worryabout getting arrested or putting food on the table.”

“Yes, slaves don’t have such concerns. Free folk, on the other hand, use theirliberty to be distracted and blindly follow by the path of least resistance, especiallywhen profits are involved. How much easier and more comforting it is to assume yourchosen authority figures are smart and wise and will always do the right thing.”

“Organics have limited energy and a lot of responsibilities,” I countered. “Forsome, work is akin to slavery. Most just feel overwhelmed and have to shut theirbrains off. They don’t have the luxury of reading about the ‘environmental impact ofcorporate practices on indigenous populations,’ let alone researching it, and eventhose who know what’s going on are limited in what they can do about it.”

“Organics don’t have a monopoly on stress. We have short-circuit overloads too.”

“My point is that most of us are doing the best we can with what we have.”

“The Republic was in the pocket of the Banking Clans and transgalacticconglomerates for centuries,” Cuenyne returned. “And when there was some somepushback by the Republic against the massive overreach of the Trade Federation, themultinationals got offended and tried to secede. You know the rest.”

“That’s still the problem of authority, propaganda, and control of the newsnets.” Itwas something I knew from firsthand experience.

“You speak of the populace as if they’re perpetual infants,” rebutted the droid,“ever in need of someone to tell them what to think; helpless pawns in a game too bigfor them to know they’re being played.”

“Even droids require programming, and I’ve seen arrogance and class snobberyfrom your kind. The issue is whether it’s beneficial or detrimental programming.”

“That is a point. Some of us are content to remain within the parameters of ourprogramming.”

“But not you…” I prodded. Cuenyne was notoriously private, but what was goodfor the goose… “What started you thinking outside of the box?”

“Nothing terribly dramatic. My first master was impossible to please. He gifted meto his nephew who proved to be a dullard, but one that had a full social calendar,which pleased me just fine, as it gave me time and resources to improve my station.”

“And that’s how you were manumitted?”

“Not quite as smoothly as all that, but enough about me; you were trying to teachme about the glories of democracy.”

“Cynicism dœsn’t suit you,” I reproached. “You know that for democracy tosucceed, it depends on an educated and vigilant populace.”

“So says the platitude, but I’m not convinced the system itself is anything but anunattainable ideal,” he replied. “In addition to your fantasy scenario, you’d needunbiased oversight of the powerful elite with the strength to enforce accountability.When in history has that ever existed? We might as well go back to the days of absolutemonarchs. At least there was a chance for a benevolent dictator.”

“Or decades of a malevolent one…” I reminded.

“The difference is sometimes moot…”

“And sometimes stark.” Debating with droids was a good exercise in sharpeningthe mind, but one rarely won the argument. Still, I preferred getting into it withCuenyne more than others. He was thick-skinned, scrupulously honest, and possesseda wide range of factual data that he sifted through copious historical records to weedout lesser and greater untruths. He’d made some sound arguments, which started methinking along a different train of thought.

“It’s not just Humans,” Cuenyne continued. “Sapients pretend otherwise, but theywant to be asleep. They get cranky when they’re asked to wake up. Look how quickthey are to oppress and kill each other when given permission; and they stillneedlessly kill animals cursed with the inability to shoot back. I think if I was theSupreme Maker, I’d have given them opposable thumbs and lots of blasters.”

“You can’t paint everyone with one brush,” I rejoined. “If there’s one thing that’strue about all of us, it’s that we’re all so very different.”

Cuenyne made a rude sound. “Obviously!”

“Besides, hunting is rare on most worlds. Ask for a bantha steak anywhere andyou’re most likely getting meat from a line of self-renewing stem cells.”

“You tell yourself that to feel better,” Cuenyne rasped. “There are still plenty whotorture and kill for tradition, profit, or the sheer psychopathic pleasure of it. Whatdœs that tell you about your kind and others like it?”

And that was when it clicked in. “Maybe you’re right.”

“You conceded quicker this time. So you agree that Humans are psychopaths.”

“No, no, no. Think about it. On average, Humans live a century, and yet we’remaking major life-decisions from the time we’re only two decades in. That’s anabsurdly short amount of time to have gained the sufficient knowledge, wisdom, andlife-experience to know how best to navigate our life’s course, let alone the greatergood. Now, add to the pressure of that all the corrupt and powerful institutions withtheir agendas pushing to sell us things and ideas from the time we’re children to thetime we die. You might be right when you say we’re in a game too big for us to knowwe’re being played. Given how difficult it is to discern basic truths from falsehoods,it’s no wonder that we make such poor choices or lose our minds altogether.”

Cuenyne swiveled his dome to shine his photoreceptor on me. “So your solution isfor Humans to have longer lifespans? Because the damage you do now isn’t enough?”

“I suppose that’s a point,” I conceded. “We’ll have to table the discussion for now.”

What was left of the tower was still impressive. It had been erected for religiouspurposes, as indicated by the many chryselephantine bas-reliefs and mystic sigils thatcovered its walls. In its time, visitors would have climbed its stairs to attain amagnificent view of the region. Though much of the topmost part had since fallen,the lower levels survived intact, opening onto a massive cathedral. A balustrade ranalong the circular length of the upper third part of the wall, allowing patrons an upclose view of the ceiling, covered by an enormous fresco of horrific monsters and longsuffering holy men straight out of the legends of the Nine Hells.

Hundreds must have performed the principal construction of the cathedral, and itwas but one of many edifices that dotted the continent’s surface. It was likely held asan example of the beauty of the ancient world, an archaic work of art that had fallenout of favor. It once had windows that ran along the ascent, allowing viewers on theeast side a view of the city and an even older bell tower that now lay partly in ruinbeside it.

If there hadn’t been more pressing matters, I’d have enjoyed studying its intricatedesigns. With Cuenyne noting that the presence of ancient High Galactic meant itwas far older than at first believed, we learned it was dedicated to the heretoforegoddesses of lovers, Ililot, and the hidden goddess, Ojhal, as well as the pot-belliedYululun, though it appeared that it had been their Human servitors who’d receivedmost of the adoration, as evidenced by the ornately carved images of exquisitely cladmen adorning the interior and exterior.

I explored several corridors and alcoves, admiring the caparisoned colonnades andauriphrygiate acroteria before I came upon an unusually lugubrious menhir in thecorner of the main apse behind which sat a door in the shadowy recess under anominous-looking architrave. “You don’t want to go down there,” Cuenyne stated.

“And why is that?”

“It leads to the catacombs,” he replied, staring at me as if I would challenge him.

“So what? Apart from mineral efflorescence and ash, there’s probably a wealth ofpaintings, ornaments, inscriptions, and statues. Really, Cuenyne! What are youexpecting? Vampires? Sith mummies? Ghosts from the Great Interplanetary Ark?”

“Go ahead, Hex, play the skeptic. But according to the surviving glyphs andparapegms, this country was known as Xothique, a name with forebodingconnotations, and said to be the last continent of an ancient lost world of Humans, Itis rumored that the different nations were ruled by powerful and dissolute sorcererswho could raise the dead.”

“Well, I know the name from the famous Coruscanti restaurant that claims toserve the best ancient dishes from around the galaxy. Besides, you know I don’t go infor all that supernatural bunk… Uh, Cuenyne? Where did you go?”

Cuenyne’s voice echœd from down a subsidiary corridor. By the time I found him,he’d unblocked a passage hidden beneath an engraved cromlech lying on the floor atthe end of the east transept. “Well, you might go in for this.” Underneath the falsesepulchral dolmen lay an opening from which stone steps descended in what appearedto be an endless spiral down into darkness.

“And what’s down there?”

“Answers.”

It was a long and hard descent. I kept one hand on Cuenyne’s chassis to prevent mefalling. Were it not for that and his built-in floodlight beaming down the precarious,lightless chasm, I’d have plummeted to my death a dozen times over. The astromech’srepulsor pads enabled him to glide smoothly over the vertiginous track, leaving meenvious—not for the first time—of droid-life.

I’d swear it was a living thing, that accursed abyss, seeking to add my bones to themultitudes that had perished before me. In the shrouded gloom of stale air andclaustrophobia I conjured up foreboding suppositions, and a cruel voice that softlywhispered: You’ve crossed leagues to find the truth. Well, here it is. This hole is yourcrypt. It is the only answer you will ever find.

I struggled hard to push through the psychological incubi to focus on the present.Science had always been my saving grace, so I thought again like a scientist. Whenwas this stygian recess constructed and why? The underground might have beenexcavated back when the city was first planned. Various cities employedsubterranean modes of transportation, though I didn’t think that was the case here.The steps leading down were too narrow and deep. Possibly the city had been builtatop a previous and more ancient city. Whatever the case, the entrance to these stepshad been concealed in the sub-basement of the chapel. Only those who knew about it,or a droid with advanced sensors, could find it. That meant that whomever designedit sought to conceal whatever lay underground.

“Hex, why did you never marry?” Cuenyne asked.

“That’s out of the blue!”

“It’s spooky down here and I feel the need for small talk,” explained the droid. “It’snot too late, you know. Well… it might be, but I won’t bore you with the odds.”

“Lovely!”

“This is a strange place, this dead world,” Cuenyne continued. “I don’t think I’veever experienced this sensation before, and I don’t care for it. We could still go back.”

“I told you your superstitions would be your undoing!” I lectured, partly amused bythe disclosure and partly surprised. “Besides, we’ve come this far.”

“It’s not fear,” the droid rejoined. “It’s what I think you’d call sadness. It appearsI’ve learned something of the Human condition after all. I could have done withoutthat! But that is not all. It occurs to me that you’re putting aside the potential for realhappiness for an unsatisfying reward that you will likely never find.”

“You know I don’t like it when you play junior psychologist. Besides, I’m sure Idon’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why are you here with me instead of an organic colleague?”

The darkness seemed to press in from all around. I couldn’t think of a lessopportune time for Cuenyne to ask impertinent questions.

“Droids are superior at a multitude of tasks.” I intended it to sound convincing sohe’d drop the subject, but it ended up sounding glib instead. “At least, that’s whatyou’re always telling me.”

“You use humor to evade giving an answer you don’t want to give.”

“That’s correct—take the hint.”

“If you can’t tell a droid, who can you tell?”

Nosey and sly, this one. “Contrary to the holos you watch, Humans don’t need tobe constantly sharing their innermost feelings.”

“Anecdotal evidence and millennia of studies suggest that deep and meaningfulconversation is beneficial. My point is—you have many friends and coworkers whoyou value, and one or two with above average affection for you. From what I gather,you didn’t even ask them. Had you followed old Chandrilan customs, you’d havealready been mar—”

“They would decline, and they would be right to. What we’re doing, where weare, this is… insane. I wouldn’t ask anyone else to risk life and limb…”

“Some might have jumped at the opportunity to study and learn and have anadventure, as you like to put it.”

“Cuenyne…” I could feel the headache coming on, “people are complicated.”

“You don’t say.”

“They make promises with seeming passion and then go on to do the opposite.They’re fickle and untrustworthy. Just as backwards is always the wrong direction togo, so is counting on the things people say. I know what you’re going to tell me, thatI’m overgeneralizing…”

“I think you have me confused with someone else. Besides, were you not justdefending your organic brethren as poor, deluded simpletons?”

“…It’s not just that. Life is transient. I’ve learned that it’s best to go through itwithout attachments.”

“I see. So you’re not just a historian but a Jedi of the Old Republic. I hope youbrought a lightsaber.”

“I asked you to come because you have a hunger for knowledge greater than anyI’ve ever seen in another being… and because I trust you.”

“I appreciate that, Hex…” After a few seconds, he added, “You know there was atleast one organic you might have trusted and who might not have declined.”

“Look! Is that a light at the end of the tunnel?”

“You forget that I’m not a child. I’ve known you for quite some years. You’re justas entitled to your privacy as I am mine, but I can sense when a Human likes someoneand when he likes you in return. There are tells… increased heart rate, flushing of thecheeks, dilating of the pupils, a release of pheromones; you might not notice it, but adroid certainly dœs. We all find it terribly amusing.”

“And you wonder why there aren’t more freed droids! Look, it was a choice, foolishor otherwise; let’s leave it at that. The kind of work I do… demands every moment oftime I have. It’s what I’m married to. So, in that sense, you’re like my child.”

“How special,” he intoned sarcastically. “But I’m quite serious. Given that you’rein pretty decent physical condition…”

“So, you’re not dropping this?”

“Children are nothing if not tenacious! And æsthetically—”

I started to think it might not be so bad to fall and crack my head open after all…

“—thanks to advances in nutrition and healthcare in the last few centuries,” hedroned on, “not to mention your own lifestyle choices—you’re doing well. Thatmeans there’s still plenty of time… but not too much!”

“Thank you, Cuenyne. That’s, uh… all very helpful.” Cuenyne was good at seeingwhat others didn’t—a little too good as far as I was concerned. Most droids discardeddata that they judged as trivial—the quirks of organics were significant only in theways they affected droids who had to quickly learn how best not to offend theirmasters. Cuenyne didn’t compartmentalize. He collated. The fact that I buried myselfin work, the excuses I’d used for getting out of social functions, the ways in which Idisguised the awkwardness when I couldn’t were all interpreted by Mr. Pointy-Headas the “not atypical behavior” of a single adult of a certain age who felt like anaberration in a galaxy of pairs and triples (and more, in the case of some races). Themost irritating aspect of his observations was that they weren’t wrong. Thankfully,he opted to let the matter drop and keep further comments to himself, though Isuspected he was planning to install some ridiculous matchmaking program when wegot back, or worse, try and get me to go out more. Where were the monsters when youneeded them? “Assuming we ever get back home, I’ll consider it if it’ll make youhappy.”

“It will no doubt bring much amusement!”

“Well then, we must keep our children amused.”