It had been a long six months.
Six months since Earth had died in a cataclysm of fire, when starships travelling at 0.7c smashed into the birthplace of humanity and its moon.
Six months since Doctor Phred Palmer set foot on Pandora for a second time – but this time as the permanent inhabitant of an Avatar.
As far as he knew, there were no humans left alive. Anywhere.
Oh, it was possible that a few had survived the end of the Earth. The Mars colony was supposed to be self-supporting, and the space stations at L4 and L5 might have survived the breakup of the Moon, but Phred knew that they could not survive for long. They had been too dependent on Earth supplied food and technology to keep alive.
For all intents and purposes homo sapiens had just joined the dinosaurs as an unsuccessful evolutionary experiment.
Phred knew this because yesterday the last human at Hell's Gate transferred her consciousness to her Avatar.
How had it come to this?
It had all looked so hopeful, half a lifetime ago, when he came to Pandora with the very first Avatar. The grand adventure was to learn about an entirely new world and its biosphere, and an intelligent species of aliens, the Na'vi.
But the early dreams became lost to humanity's greed for unobtanium, and the entire planet fought back, seducing the Avatars to the side of the Na'vi and launching two captured starships to totally destroy humanity.
It was almost as if Pandora saw humanity as a cancer, mobilising all its resources to fight off the infection that threatened life on this planet.
He wasn't sure why he had agreed to come back to this place. So many of the memories he had of this world were painful. The lingering death of his wife Lissa was the worst, but there were other bad memories as well.
It was strange that this was the place of his greatest success – the decoding of the language of the Na'vi. At least Phred was given the credit, although he did not do the work. Work that was done by his foster-daughter Sara, the very first Avatar – before she became the first to abandon her humanity. She was the one who took all the risks, while he received the empty accolades of a dying world. Linguistics wasn't even his field of study – Phred had been a geneticist on the Avatar program, falling by chance into the position of team leader of the first Avatar deployment.
In a way, Phred had been defined by Pandora.
Not, not defined. Defined was the wrong word.
Phred had been hollowed out by this world.
The only reason he was here was at the insistence of his friend Zhong Li, the man who had manipulated his way to become CEO of the Resources Development Administration, with the secret objective of ensuring the survival of the Na'vi. If it had been left up to Phred, he would have been content to perish in hellfire with the rest of humanity.
A few moments of terror, and his life would have thankfully been over.
Instead, Doctor Phred Palmer was here, an empty man walking carefully through the Pandoran forest.
Being in the forest as an Avatar – no, that wasn't right. The Na'vi referred to the former humans as Uniltìranyu, members of a clan that were tolerated by Eywa for their part in the elimination of the human threat. Phred suspected that in time the Uniltìranyu would become absorbed into the rich tapestry of clans that made up the Na'vi culture, losing whatever vestiges of humanity that remained.
It had been different walking through the forest as a human, protected against a savage world by fearsome technology. Humans had tried to hold themselves separate from the environment, to bend and manipulate it to their needs, but now as a Uniltìranyu Phred was a part of the environment, subject to all its dangers.
He had gone through intensive training at Hell's Gate, training that every new arrival underwent. It had been difficult, and gruelling, and Phred had not been particularly adept at it. He had been a scientist, not an adventurer, but now he was expected to be able to survive in a wilderness.
Shooting the bow had been a dead loss. Phred did just not have the physical coordination to be an archer. Still, the Uniltìranyu produced a local version of the crossbow which was just as lethal and far simpler to use, even if it was much slower to reload and fire. Firearms were not an option – there wasn't the metal available to maintain a high energy technology indefinitely, so the leaders of the Uniltìranyu were turning to other solutions that had been long abandoned by humanity.
Phred supposed he looked quite the adventurer, with his crossbow slung over his back, and knife scabbarded to his thigh. He didn't feel like one though.
Still, he had learnt enough to make this journey.
He was consulting the GPS on his forearm data tablet – it had lost the signals from three satellites again, so he could have been anywhere within a twenty kilometre bubble - when a voice unexpectedly said, "Kaltxì."
Phred spun around to see a grinning Na'vi youth, decked out as a hunter. "Hello," he replied, suddenly wincing as he realised he had answered in English rather than Na'vi.
Much to his surprise, the youth answered in the same language. "You are Uniltìranyu, stranger. What are you called, and to where do you travel? I am Stxeli'tstal te Pesuholpxaype Tsawlontu'itan, of the Omaticaya clan."
Phred froze in shock. By his name, this youth was the son of Tsawlontu, the mate of Phred's foster daughter Sara - the Avatar who left her humanity to become Kalinkey the healer. Stxeli'tstal was Phred's...he could not think the words.
"Come," grinned Stxeli'tstal. "I am not that ugly, only."
"You may call me Ke'yetute," said Phred slowly. He did not wish to reveal who he was, not to this youth. Phred did not wish to be honoured for something that he did not do. He switched to Na'vi as he replied, "I seek to travel to Vitraya Ramunong."
"An interesting name," replied Stxeli'tstal in the same language, cocking his head to one side. "You are a little out of your way. I will guide you to the place of the Omaticaya, which is near to Vitraya Ramunong. You may stay the night there, as our guest."
Phred could not refuse without giving offense.
The journey went quickly, Stxeli'tstal guiding Phred unerringly towards their destination. He mentioned briefly that the Omaticaya had moved away from Vitraya Ramunong after the war against the tawtute, finding a new Hometree to shape and mould into their home. It was only a morning's walk to the sacred place that the Omaticaya sometimes called the centre of the world.
Otherwise, few words were spoken.
There were many former humans who had joined with the Omaticaya, he knew. Phred wondered how many of them would recognise his face, as he had been intimately involved with the Avatar program. Indeed, he had sat on the selection panels that chose many of the candidates.
Phred hoped the winding back of the years had changed his features so that none would recognise him.
"You will stay with my family," announced Stxeli'tstal, as they crested a hill and came into view of a massive tree towering above the forest, the sun low in the western sky. "We don't live in Hometree. Mother prefers to live on the ground in a smaller dwelling, like many that remember the Fall of Kelutrel. Father has been unable to change her mind, even though there is enough space in Hometree now." He grinned. "Last time he tried to persuade her to move, she threw a crock at his head."
"I see," observed Phred, trying to suppress a feeling of trepidation. It sounded like Sara – or rather Kalinkey – had not changed that much over the years. "Was he hurt?"
"No," replied Stxeli'tstal impishly. "He is very good at catching things. Mother has given him much practice over the years."
Phred could not help but smile. He remembered that Sara had quite a temper.
The youth led him down into a valley, half-filled with a small lake. The massive bulk of a Hometree dominated the southern shore, a well trodden path leading to it parallelling a cliff-face containing many cave openings. Each one was gaily decorated with colourful banners and awnings waving gently in the warm breeze.
It was stunningly beautiful.
"Mother! Father!" called out Stxel'tstal, running up a short path to one of the middle caves. Phred followed him past a clear pool of water with steam rising off the surface, a strong flow of water flowing from it down to the lake. "We have a guest from the Uniltìranyu."
Two adult Na'vi appeared from within the cave entrance. Despite the lines of experience on both their faces, Phred recognised them immediately.
Stxeli'tstal announced, "He is called Ke'yetute. Ke'yetute, this is my mother Kalinkey, and my father Tsawlontu."
Tsawlontu said, "I See you, Ke'yetute." He made the gesture of greeting with his left hand.
Phred's mouth dropped open briefly before shutting – Tsawlontu's left arm was a robotic prosthesis, but he appeared to use it with the familiarity of years of use. He had no doubt that the Na'vi warrior had lost it in the wars against the tawtute. "I See you," replied Phred. "I am sorry to disturb you, but your son insisted that I come here to your home."
"You are welcome here, Ke'yetute," said Kalinkey. Her voice was warm and friendly, but to Phred's relief there was no sign of recognition on her face. "Our fire is yours, as is our meat. Please come inside, and tell us news of our cousins the Uniltìranyu."
He was led through an antechamber, filled with shelving containing a multitude of pottery crocks, jars and containers of a huge variety of sizes. A rug was set to one side of the smooth floor, while the ceiling was painted in a complex abstract design in many brilliant colours. Phred instantly recognised the intricate pattern as a representation of Riemannian space depicted in two dimensions. He had seen 3D computer-generated versions of the same space many times, illustrating the complexities of the Kalinkey Theorem - the equation that governed both the functioning of the planetary-wide intelligence the Na'vi named Eywa, and the collapse of life on Earth.
He was a little surprised to see hundreds of small wooden blocks neatly stacked next to the rug, each block lacquered with a clear tint, the colour carefully chosen to best show the natural grain of the timber.
The cavern behind was much larger, lit by an opening to the clifftop above. Tucked away in alcoves were sleeping mats, while a firepit occupied the lowest level of the space. Phred was not surprised to see the smoothest wall filled with human mathematical notation, a part of which showed the proof for the Kalinkey Theorem. It seemed that his foster-daughter had not lost her love of numbers, despite the passage of time.
"We share this dwelling with my sister Zha'nelle and brother Mìnkxetse, and their children," said Kalinkey. "They will be here soon for the evening meal. Before then I will prepare your sleeping place."
"You do not eat with the rest of the clan?" asked Phred curiously. His early anthropological studies showed that the clan always ate the evening meal togther.
"Two days out of three we eat the evening meal with the clan," answered Tsawlontu. "Today we eat with our family. The custom changed after the Fall of Kelutrel. No one quite knows why. It just did." His eyes shifted slightly, looking past Phred's face. "Is that a crossbow? I have not seen one before, although I have heard of them."
Kalinkey laughed. "My love, take our guest to the archery butts, so he may demonstrate his weapon sufficiently to satisfy your curiosity. Stxeli'tstal, you may help me preparing the meal." It seemed she knew her mate well.
Her son looked a little disappointed, but did not object to her 'suggestion'. It seemed the lines of authority were well-established in this family.
"I have no skill with the bow," admitted Phred.
The practice butts were empty of all other archers.
Tsawlontu said, "The art of the bow takes a lifetime to learn. Few uniltìranyu not born to this skill have mastered it. Zhake'soolly, olo'eyktan of the clan, is one such." He lifted his prosthetic left hand and said ruefully, "I too had to learn from the beginning as an adult."
"I would like to see you shoot first," requested Phred, noting that Tsawlontu modestly did not claim mastery.
Grinning with pleasure, Tsawlontu took his bow in his right hand – every other Na'vi shot left-handed – nocked an arrow. In a deceptively simple action, he drew and loosed, without appearing to aim.
The arrow flew across the intervening distance and slammed into the centre of one of the targets, burying half its length in the target.
"Very impressive," acknowledged Phred, feeling a twinge of jealousy for the expertise this man showed.
"I have to shoot with the wrong hand now, else the bow will pull my arm off the stump," said Tsawlontu unselfconsciously. "I can use a heavier draw-weight now, but I am not quite as accurate as before."
"I am still impressed," said Phred.
"Now show me yours," said Tsawlontu, a gleam in his eyes.
It seemed this simple demonstration had somehow turned into a dick-swinging contest, thought Phred. He unslung the crossbow, placing his foot in the stirrup and hauling the string back to the nut. Extracting a bolt from the quiver hanging from his belt, he fitted it into the slot and raised the weapon. Phred aimed carefully, and gently squeezed the trigger.
The crossbow thudded hard back into his shoulder, snapping the bolt in a characteristically flat trajectory to the target.
Tsawlontu whistled in admiration. The bolt did not quite hit the target dead centre, but it was not that far off. "Not bad for a Uniltìranyu with no skill at archery, not bad at all," he said. "May I try?"
Phred nodded and passed him the weapon. Tsawlontu had little trouble drawing the string and loading the bolt – evidently he had been watching Phred closely. When he fired at the target, he swore, "Wiya! It kicks like a pa'li!"
The bolt flew past the target, thudding into the earth mound behind the targets. Tsawlontu grinned, "It seems there is more than a little skill in using a crossbow."
Tsawlontu shot several more bolts, until he was consistently hitting around the centre of the target. "We had best find your shafts and return for the evening meal," he said, glancing at the setting sun, "Otherwise Kalinkey will not be pleased with me."
While they walked to the target, Phred asked, "How did you find it?"
Twisting his face into a crooked smile, Tsawlontu answered, "It was enjoyable, Ke'yetute, but I think I prefer using my bow. It seems more natural to me, and does not take so long to loose a second shot." He tilted his head to one side considering his next words. "The increased range may sometimes be useful, but I would not care to try reloading on the back of an ikran."
"I thought that might be the case," commented Phred.
On the way back to the cave, Phred felt an unaccustomed lightness of heart, a lightness he had not experienced for...years.
The evening meal was pleasant. Zha'nelle and Mìnkxetse were friendly, exchanging warm greetings with the stranger to this household. Curiously enough, Zha'nelle carried the five fingered hands of a Uniltìranyu, although she acted and sounded exactly like a born Na'vi. Perhaps this was to be the fate of all the former humans. The only awkward moment came when Kalinkey introduced her ten year old daughter Lissa.
Hearing the name of his dead wife was like a knife to Phred's heart. He froze for a moment, and then smiled, hoping that no-one noticed. "Your daughter is as beautiful as her name," he said.
Tsawlontu said proudly, "Lissa is named after the mother of Kalinkey."
The young girl piped up, "I will be a healer, just like Mother."
Her father replied, "I am sure of it, my daughter."
Being male, neither Phred nor Tsawlontu noticed the sharp look Kalinkey gave her mate. However Zha'nelle noticed, and leapt in with a question about the training of the new Uniltìranyu at Hell's Gate.
The awkward moment passed.
Much to Phred's surprise, the rest of the evening went quickly, and before his knew it Lissa showed him to his sleeping mat. He realised then he was exhausted, and fell asleep, almost before he rested his head on the mat.
"Wake up," whispered a voice.
Phred jerked awake from a dreamless sleep, opening his eyes to find Kalinkey leaning over him and shaking his shoulder. "What is it?" he asked grumpily. It had been a very pleasant sleep, and Phred was never at his best on waking.
"You must come with me," answered the female voice curtly. "Bring your things and follow."
The cavern was still lit by the lamps of the Na'vi, and the patch of sky visible showed the dark of night, not the brightness of the day. Blearily, Phred recognised Kalinkey leaning over him. Quickly, he gathered his gear and followed her outside. No-one else stirred at their passage.
No other words were spoken. Kalinkey set a punishing pace, flitting through the night-time forest, glowing with bioluminescence and the soft blue light shed by Polyphemus. Phred could not tell what time it was, other than sometime between twilight and dawn.
It seemed like he had been running for hours when Kalinkey finally relented and stopped.
Phred leant over, hands resting on his knees and panting, desperately trying to recover his breath. He thought he had been fit after the Uniltìranyu training, but he was mistaken. "Where are we?" he asked between gasps of air.
"Vitraya Ramunong, my father," replied Kalinkey. "This is where you wished to come."
Phred slowly straightened, gazing at his smiling foster-daughter in shock. "How did you know?" he asked quietly.
Kalinkey simply stated, "Your voice was familiar, but it was the way you looked at my plox that gave you away." She took one step towards him and drew him into a warm embrace. "It has been a long journey from the forest under the dome," she said. "A more difficult path for you than for me, I think. I have not walked my journey in solitude."
Phred had no answer for her words, except for one thing. His arms returned her embrace, while his eyes closed, trying to deny the tears of loneliness he had suppressed all this time.
"I did not say anything to my family, to save you pain," she said. "Like me, you have chosen a new name to change your fate, and I wished to respect your choice." Kalinkey broke the embrace and stepped away. "Only sometimes am I Sara the Smurf, when I play with my numbers. I have little time to be her now," she finished wistfully.
"Thank you," whispered Phred, brushing the moisture away from his face. "I am Phred Palmer no longer. Instead, I am empty like a gourd, but if you shook me, I do not think that there are any seeds inside to rattle."
Kalinkey raised an eyebrow and replied, "I am not so sure." She knelt by a low mount covered with flowers glowing in the dark, clearing out forest litter from between the blooms. "I come here to tend Lissa's resting place, from time to time," she mentioned calmly. "It brings me a little peace, even though she is not here."
"Is that..." started Phred, not being able to finish the question.
"Yes," she confirmed. "This is her grave." She stood up and turned towards him. "But this is not why I brought you here."
Kalinkey took Phred's hand and led him down into the hollow that held the Tree of Souls. "Rest here," she told him, indicating a low platform at the base of the tree."
Phred did as he was told.
It wasn't like falling asleep at all.
For one thing, it wasn't dark. His eyes were filled with a brilliant white light. "Where am I?" he asked, blinking his eyes rapidly, trying to clear them.
"Where do you think?" asked a voice he had not heard in, well, a lifetime.
Phred's vision cleared to show him the brilliant white of the genetics lab he had not seen since he left Earth - the first time. He scowled. He had never liked the colour scheme, preferring to do most of his thinking in the staff lounge.
But Lissa had loved the lab, all wonderfully retro early twenty-first century. "Is that you?" he asked a small blond female human, wearing an immaculate lab coat.
"Yes, and no," replied Lissa, confusing Phred. How could it be Lissa, and not-Lissa? "Well, you don't look like the Phred I married either," she observed. "You're taller and younger than him."
Phred looked down at himself, and to his surprise saw his Avatar body, rather than his creaky old human torso.
"I can see I have to explain," she said. "I am Lissa, but I am Eywa as well. I have all of Lissa's memories and personality – indeed, I really am Lissa – but I am connected to the centre of Eywa's consciousness as well." She grinned. "It's a little disconcerting."
"But..." he complained.
Lissa did not allow him to get any further, stopping his question with a kiss.
"I've missed you so much," she said. "I'd like to tell you so much about being here, but I don't have time. It takes a great expenditure of resources to manifest with the living, so much as I would like to dally with you, we have business to attend to first."
"Business?" he asked. "What kind of business?"
"Why you came back to Pandora, of course," she answered. "Really, I should be angry with you for wallowing in gloom and despair. The empty man...hmph! There is so much to do, and so little time."
Phred stood straight and crossed his arms angrily. "So why did I come back?" he glared. Sometimes Lissa could be so irritating.
"Oh, sit down," she snapped. Phred suddenly found he was pushed back and down, balanced precariously on a wobbly stool.
"That's hardly fair," he retorted.
Lissa took a deep breath – or at least she appeared to – and said calmly, "Eywa wants you to build an interface to the human computers at Hell's Gate."
"What?" asked Phred.
"Look," said Lissa. "Humanity was a big shock to me – I mean Eywa – the world came so close to dying it wasn't funny. She has realised that the Na'vi cannot continue to be Neolithic innocents, so she wants them to develop a technological civilisation. Quickly."
She continued, "While the threat from humanity has gone, there may be other star-faring races that are even more dangerous. Eywa does not want to risk her children again, so she wants to use the totality of human knowledge to jump-start the Na'vi into the twenty-second century. To do that, she needs to download all the information at Hell's Gate, but there is no time to waste. The computers will fail from lack of spare parts in one or two decades, and then it will all be gone."
"Fuck!" swore Phred softly. The scale of such a project, the problems..."I wouldn't know where to start," he said, shaking his head. "No, I can't do it."
Lissa stepped forward and prodded him in the chest – sharply. She almost drew blood."It has to be you," she stated firmly, suing the same tone she always used when she would not be moved. "You were the one who made the critical breakthrough with the Avatar linking technology. There is no-one else."
"But the math..." he complained. It had taken the work of a team of brilliant mathematicians to take his theoretical insight and make it workable. His math was just not up to the challenge.
"Kalinkey will help you with that," answered Lissa."What else are you going to do with the next eighty years? Vegetate?"
Phred bit his lip. It was an interesting problem, definitely – one that could keep him busy for years. And then a thought occurred to him. A very intriguing thought. "Ok, I'll do it," he agreed. "On one condition."
"Name it," she said.
"If I am successful, you will owe me a favour," he said.
Lissa spat on her right hand and offered it to him. They shook on it, and Lissa said, "Done."
As the dream of the lab faded away, Phred thought he knew exactly where he should start. The Avatar linking technology, and the plant species the Na'vi called utraya mokri – the Tree of Voices.
Phred snapped awake and almost leapt to his feet. He turned to Kalinkey and said, "We have much work to do. I have to get back to Hell's Gate right now, and you're coming with me."
"Srane," agreed Kalinkey, surprised. Whatever Phred had seen within Eywa had filled the empty one with purpose.
It took six years before the first breakthrough - six years of working night and day, travelling constantly between the Place of the Omaticaya and Hell's Gate to consult with Kalinkey.
Phred was sure the Uniltìranyu scientists at Hell's Gate hated him for driving them so hard, but he was wrong. They were in awe of his vision and passion, and would have followed him to the ends of the earth – or rather, Pandora.
Kalinkey was there and saw the first trickle of data between a modified Avatar link bed and a tiny genetically modified utraya mokri.
"Ke'yetute," she said – no-one called him Phred now. "Do you know what your name really means?"
"Empty one," he said distractedly. He was too busy monitoring the data transfer error rate to take real notice.
"No," she corrected him. "It does not mean that at all."
He turned to his foster daughter in surprise and asked, "What does it mean, then?"
"Not full man," she replied. "Being empty is quite different to being not full."
Phred laughed.
Kalinkey laughed with him, and added, "You were never empty. You just didn't know it."
Two years later, the link between Eywa and Hell's Gate's systems carried petabytes a second.
A huge gnarled growth pulsing with light was tightly interlaced with optical fibre connectors leading to a battery of modified link units. It was a kludge, but it worked. And how it worked.
Phred tapped on the communicator icon on his monitor next to the interface, and the image of a pleasant Na'vi female swam into view. "Kaltxì," she said.
"Eywa," acknowledged Phred, speaking in English. "I was going to ask if you considered my work a success."
The image of Eywa laughed. "It is everything and more," she replied. "There is so much here that I did not know." Then she frowned slightly, adding, "Although there is one part of the system I cannot access."
"There is a reason for that," explained Phred.
"Oh?"
"Eight years ago, you said you would owe me a favour, if we succeeded," he said.
There was silence.
"The firewalled systems run the Avatar gestation chambers, and the personality transfer links," he said. "I have grown an Avatar, using some stem cell cultures that were stored decades ago, when Lissa was treated for her cancer. I repaired the genetic damage, and combined them with Kalinkey's DNA to grow the Avatar."
Phred took a deep breath, and said quietly, "My life is empty, even now, without Lissa. I want her back, if she will come willingly. You owe me this."
Eywa frowned, "What if she will not come?"
He shut his eyes, as though he was in pain. "If you tell me she will not come, I will accept it."
"I could lie," said Eywa pointedly.
"I trust you," answered Phred, opening his eyes, his soul bared to the unwinking eye of the camera above the monitor.
The image on the screen nodded once. "There may never be another," said Eywa firmly.
Hope rising in his heart, Phred shook his head and admitted, "I do not think the chambers will support the growth of another Avatar – they are old and worn out, and were never designed to produce so many. I almost lost her three times."
"Very well," said the goddess that governed the world of Pandora. "A favour is a favour. Lower the firewalls, and I will do the rest."
Phred typed in a single keyword - 'Eurydice'.
The interface room lit up briefly, as though a flood of data was pouring down into the human computers. Which, Phred supposed, it was.
Eywa smiled, "Most apt, even if your name isn't Orpheus. Now go to her. She will wake in a few moments."
The female Avatar stirred slightly, and opened her eyes.
Phred greeted her. "Hi."
A smile spread across Lissa's face, and she replied, "Hi." She reached up to touch his cheek, an expression of wonder spreading across her face.
Without a word, Phred helped Lissa to her feet, dressing her in the garb of a maiden of the Omaticaya. She giggled a little as he adjusted it critically, and then looked her up and down. He nodded with satisfaction, as though he was verifying everything was shipshape.
They walked hand-in-hand out of the complex that housed the Avatar gestation chambers, Phred ignoring the greetings of the few Uniltìranyu scientists about. He did not wish to tempt fate.
On the edge of the tarmac, beyond the flightline they paused and briefly kissed, before they stepped into the shade of the forest.
Neither of them looked back.
Ever.
THE END.
Author's Note
Ok, ok. So I said 'Shaping The Spirit' was going to be the very last story in the 'En Pointe' narrative arc.
So I was wrong.
Sue me.
Personally, I blame anders1972 for putting the idea into my head, and the damn thing wouldn't go away. I spent the last two nights writing this one-shot.
Curse you, Anders!
Anyway, Doctor Phred Palmer deserved his own story, which turned into a retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, but with a happier ending. I hope you enjoy it.
For those of you who haven't come across my other stories, 'The Empty Man' comes chronologically after 'Shaping The Spirit', although the story originates from the events told in 'By The Numbers'.
Complete details of the 'En Pointe' cycle can be found in my profile.
Again, enjoy!