The Rising, the Growing and the Falling

Metal walls and a metal floor. The deep, far off humming and grinding of electricity, engines, moving parts. Closer, the dripdripdrip as blood falls to the floor. His own agonized breathing. Blue eyes.

He woke for the third time, and this time, despite the lingering fragments of some nightmare, he knew instantly where he was. On the sleeping mat in the store room of the house in Thet. He remembered the family of Kheelians who had taken him in. The pain-filled desperate trudge across the moor, and his own mysterious injuries. The gaping, scarred emptiness of his head where his memories should be.

What he couldn't place was the warm feel of someone else curled against his uninjured side, and a loud insistent voice in his ear demanding "Benbenbenbenbenben..."

Trying to suppress a groan, he opened his eyes and was not at all surprised to see Tiki, the youngest child, curled up next to him. Or more accurately, he first thing he saw was the four-limbed bundle of rags disguised as a doll which seemed to be the child's favoured toy. It was being unceremoniously tapped against the side of his head. He looked past the doll, and saw Tiki starring him intently. Just his luck to be chosen as the second favourite plaything of a giant alien toddler.

"I'm awake," he muttered, and moved to sit up. Hands appeared in his field of vision on the other side, and the older child who was mostly sprawled over his shins, moved back and helped to pull him up. She – and the man was fairly confident he remembered Shaarm speaking of 'the girls' yesterday – was grinning widely, with a pointed teeth fully on display. He rubbed a hand across his drowsy face, dredged up a remnant of his manners, and tried to smile back.

"Up, Benben!" the girl said in Basic. "Up! Food is now!"

"Very well, I'm coming," he reassured her. Tiki, who had taken his sitting up as a minor inconvenience in her attempt to snuggle up next to him, had sat up too, and was now stroking his beard with one hand. The other hand was already occupied due to its thumb being sucked. He pointed to her and said "I know your name is Tiki."

She pulled out her thumb to show him her teeth, and then it went straight back in. He turned to the older girl as best he could with Tiki's long fingers still tangled in his beard.

"And your mother is Shaarm, and there is Chana and Grandmother. So what is your name?"

The girls looked delighted as he listing off their family's names, even though he knew they probably couldn't understand everything he said. The older girl smiled, and then pronounced that set of indistinguishable multi-syllable vowels that apparently formed her name. Tiki repeated it, adding the phrase Benben to the end, and then they both looked at him.

His first attempt at the name was met with gales of laughter and hand-clapping from both girls. He got them to repeat it, slower, and then tried again. Each wrong pronunciation was met with more hilarity than the last, but in the end he just shortened and simplified the word as much as he could.

"Ooouli?"

The older girl laughed. "No! Not!" Then she seemed to think about the name for a bit, and then pronounced; "To Benben, yes."

He wanted to clarify, wishing the translating device had been evident; "So it isn't your name, but I may call you Ooouli?"

"Benben, yes."

"Good. I like it."

She patted his chest gently, and then climbed up onto her four limbs. "Benben, up! Food is now!"

The sound of a distant voice came through the doorway and, after giving the man a last pat on the hair, the children scampered from the room. He could hear giggling and the words "Ooouli" and "Benben" drifting in from the room outside.

Shaarm entered, pulling the door to behind her.

"Good evening," she said. She loped across the room on three legs, carrying a bundle tucked under her elbow. He observed the Kheelian's motion; they were quadrupedal, walking on their knuckles. As he had seen with the door handle, they could certainly stand for periods of time on two legs to use their hands, and could easily manage to walk on three limbs if carrying something.

"The girls wanted to wake you. I hope they were were not rough, they can get over-excited."

"Not at all," he answered, smiling. "They were very gentle."

Shaarm smiled as if he had offered her a high compliment. "I give thanks," she said.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked.

"Only four turns. In the evenings, when we can, we eat a meal together. Do you feel well enough to join us?"

He nodded. "I would like that."

"Good." She first carefully detached the IV tubing from the needle in his arm, and then placed the bundle she had brought down on his legs. He saw it comprised a bundle of cloth and a sturdy duralumin staff that Shaarm placed on the floor by him.

"We do not of course have any Pechnar clothes here, and those you were wearing when you arrived were essentially destroyed." She sounded apologetic. "Grandmother and Chana have adapted some old clothes of the children's to try and match your old ones. They will be a strange shape on you I am afraid, but I hope they will serve for now. Later we will find some Pechnar clothes for you in Tszaaf."

The man unfolded the bundle and found a pair of soft, loose trousers, several large tunics and a baggy green woollen overcoat with a long waist tie. He found himself thoroughly moved by his hosts' kindness, and had to blink for a few moments for force back unexpected tears. Was he usually this emotional?

"Thank you," he said, and hoped she knew how heartfelt the words were.

Shaarm smiled, and said, "I hear that you have renamed my daughter."

He winced a little though was fairly confident she was jesting. "Yes, I am sorry. I just couldn't manage to say her name correctly at all."

Shaarm laughed, and he thought it was the first time he had heard the sound from her. "It is well," she said. "Our daughter has a very old name, from the roots of our language. Ooouli is a little more modern. She likes it."

"And what is benben?"He enquired, and it was her turn to look embarrassed.

"I am afraid Benben is Tiki's doll. She and Ooouli have decided that you look like him, and as you had no name, you could share his. I hope it is all right."

He stroked his beard for a moment, pretending to think about it.

"It is well," he acquiesced, and she laughed again. "But I think just the one 'Ben' will do, so I don't start thinking too much of myself."

"It is agreed." Shaarm rose to her four legs, and lowered her head down to the ground in a formal-looking bow. He ducked his own head as much as his neck and chest injuries would allow to match it. "And I welcome you to our home, Ben. Now get dressed! It is time to eat."

After she had gone, the newly-named Ben carefully stood up, and stretched. He hurt a lot, and his body felt stiff and dull. His head ached. It occurred to him then that he had no idea how long he had been here. Just one more thing that he didn't know. Ben stripped off the old nightshirt, suspecting from the shape of it that it too had been adapted from one of the children's garments. The bruising and tenderness on his torso seemed to have gone down a little, although his ribs felt no better. For the first time, he noticed that there were older scars on his body beneath the new injuries. Long, shiny burns on his left arm and left leg, an indentation on his shin indicating a badly healed fracture in his tibia, a tracery of barely-seen white scars over his right kneecap from some past surgery. He didn't feel old, but it was clear his body had been damaged more than once. He didn't know what that meant.

With a frown, Ben shook out the new clothes Shaarm had given him. Time to see if they fitted him as well as his new name did. Considering they were made for a creature a very different shape and size to himself, it wasn't half bad. The trousers had a drawstring which was just as well, or they would never have stayed on. The sleeves of the tunic were still much too long, despite having been already hacked off once, but the green woollen robe was warm and comforting.

There had been no mirror in the wash room, but as he limped over to the door leaning on the walking staff, he caught sight of the base of a wide duralumin pan hanging from a nail in the corner. His badly-lit reflection was a little distorted on the uneven surface but it was clear enough. He was looking at a stranger. The man who stared back was pale; his bruised face had a gauntness around the eyes and cheekbones that spoke of illness, maybe starvation. The over-large size of the clothes did not help the impression of fragility. His hair, which was desperately in need of a wash, was a copper blonde, and fell passed his ears, and his beard was overgrown and unkempt. It was not a good first impression. Ben scowled at his own face.

Pushing open the door, he limped out into a large room full of light and motion. Blinking, he took in the scene around him. The room was huge and circular, under a domed roof of light. Six doorways were evenly spaced around the walls, and between each door, the curving walls were covered with shelves, cupboards, colourful hangings or paintings. Melodic music was playing from somewhere, and someone was humming. In the centre of the room was an enormous circular block of stone, as high as his chest, and it was clear that this table was the focus of the activity in the room. There were no chairs, but cushions and rugs were scattered around on the floor. The Kheelian children were lying on the floor in front of the table, with their long legs tucked under their bodies. Tiki was scrawling vague shapes on a large sheet of plastipaper, while Ooouli had several datapads scattered around her that she seemed to be studying. Grandmother was sitting on her haunches at the table, reading out loud from an actual book, a huge tome with a red cover. She winked at him, but did not stop her recitation. On the other side of the room, Shaarm, Chana, and another adult Kheelian were moving around a small kitchen area in comfortable domesticity. As he limped into the room leaning heavily on the staff, Tiki spotted him and jumped up, loping over to stroke his hair. He realised for the first time that, when she stood up on her hind legs, she was only a little shorter than he was, the top of her long ears level with his nose. He guessed that Ooouli would be half as tall again as her sister. As the adult male he didn't know reached up to lift something from a shelf, Ben could see that the full grown Kheelians were more than twice his own height when standing. When walking quadrupedally on their back legs and knuckles, their eyeline was above the top of Ben's head.

Shaarm called something over to Tiki, presumably a warning to be careful, and the young child dropped back down onto her four limbs and pushed her shoulder in against Ben's side. He ran his hand over her shaggy head with some affection, and she shuffled her shoulder under his arm, presumably to let him lean on her back. She hindered him more than she helped, but he eventually did make it over to the table. Chana, in the meantime, had been stacking several low boxes on top of each other by the table to create a raised-up stool, and with a tooth-filled smile, he picked up Ben under the arms and easily lifted him onto the chair, where he could now at least reach the table. The translating device was positioned next to his place.

"Ben," Chana greeted him with a brush of his hand over the man's hair.

"Hello, Chana," he said back. "Hello Shaarm."

Grandmother continued to read, not at all put off by the other conversations that were happening over her. Shaarm trotted over carrying a dish in one hand, followed by the other male Kheelian, who was carrying empty plates and seemed to be the one humming, or half singing to himself. "Hello Ben," Shaarm greeted him with a smile. "This is my husband, Pakat."

To his inexperienced eye, Pakat seemed visually similar to Chana, although he was a less tall and narrower across the shoulders. His fur was a paler straw colour than Chana's rich gold, making Ben think that perhaps Pakat was the younger of the two husbands. Ben wondered if there were more partners in this marriage or if he had now met everyone.

"Pakat, I am pleased to meet you," he said, giving a slight bow. "I am Ben."

"Ben!" said Pakat, stroking the man's hair and patting the back of his neck soothingly. Ben wondered if physical contact of the head was a greeting in the Kheelian culture, but he didn't try to reciprocate, not yet. Pakat seemed not to speak any Basic at all, and used the translator to make his greeting, which sounded oddly formal:

"Pleased are we that you have come to us. Our house is richer for your presence."

"Thank you," Ben replied, not sure how else to respond.

Shaarm called to the girls, and the three adult proceeded to place numerous small dishes and plates on the table. The meal seemed to be comprised of a lot of different components. The family were not sure what Pechnar could eat or what he liked, Pakat told him through the translator, so they had made many different dishes to see what he favoured best.

Being smaller than the rest of the family, Tiki too had a raised step to sit on opposite from Ben, while everyone else sat on their haunches on the floor. Grandmother seemed to reach the end of her page, and stopped reading. The family went quiet, with just the flowing melody of the distant music filling the silence. Ben waited, wondering what was happening.

Chana came in to the room, carrying a tray in one hand, which he placed in the clear area in the centre of the table. On it were seven earthenware cups and a glass teapot. In silence, he dropped a small bundle of leaves into the pot. He stirred the pot seven times.

"Tonight, we are thankful," announced Shaarm in Basic, as they all watched the pot. "We have food and shelter and peace. We thank our grandparents for the legacy of our past, we thank our parents for the for gift of our present-day, and we thank our children for the hope of our future." As she spoke, the bundle of leaves in the teapot slowly unfolded in the hot water, unfurling to reveal a curl of petals like a blossoming flower. Shaarm poured a steaming liquid from the pot into the cups and then handed one to each person. Tiki gripped her cup with both hands, bearing a look of fierce concentration. Everyone took a sip of the drink and Ben copied them, carefully lifting the large cup with both hands. The drink was a little bitter, but had a fresh, green taste.

"Tonight," Shaarm continued, "we would also like to thank our new friend Ben for joining our family, so that we have the opportunity to show him our compassion, share our home, and give him our strength."

Everyone drank again.

Ben looked to Shaarm, hoping he wasn't breaking etiquette. "May I speak?"

She held out a graceful hand and smiled. He took the translator from Pakat.

"I would like to thank you, all of you," Ben said," for the kindness, welcome, and understanding you have given me in your home. I thank you for the gift of my life."

His words were met with silence as everyone drank the last of their drinks, and then the table erupted into noise, with the Kheelians knocking on the table with their hands in what seemed like a demonstration of loud approval at his words.

Now that the formality of the ritual was over, the meal began. It was a surprisingly disorderly affair. It seemed to be perfectly acceptable to lean across the table to get the item you wanted, shout, laugh, sing and generally make a lot of mess and noise. Grandmother continued to read from the book in between eating, although nobody seemed to be paying her any attention, and she didn't seem to mind. Underneath the madness of noise and sound, her voice added a perfect rhythm to the swirl of the family life. Chaos, yet harmony. Ben was distracted by watching what was happening until Chana gestured to his empty plate.

"Ben, here. This is...not bad." The Kheelian offered a dish, containing small red cubes in a watery sauce. Ben took it with a smile, remembering Chana's odd turn of phrase from before. He cautiously put a little onto his plate, and tasted it, His eyes instantly watered up and the burning sensation went through his throat into his nose, making him cough. Chana gave a small laugh, and took the dish away.

"Oh, it is not good for Ben! Sorry."

Other dishes were passed down and suggestions made on all sides for foods he might try. Ben found before he had eaten much at all that his sense of taste was completely burned away. Almost every dish seemed to contain a certain vegetable known as a tarvaroot which, although mild in taste to his hosts, burned Ben's mouth and throat like fire, almost as a mild allergic reaction. With regret, Shaarm explained, tarvaroot was a stable of the Kheelian diet. She indicated to a dish which did not contain the vegetable, although Ben had only to smell the small white berries it contained before his brain was clamouring with warnings. He may not have been able to remember his own name, but he was sure that he contents of that dish were extremely toxic to him. Fortunately, the family took this as a matter of scientific interest rather than insult. Ben let Pakat squash one of the berries on to the back of his hand, and there was general horrified amazement when a red, irritated patch appeared on the skin after mere moments. They all agreed that he should stay very far away from the white berries.

Which just left the problem of what he was going to eat. The spicy white paste he had been given before had been edible, but even that had been almost hotter than he could stand. The only successful thing he had found at this meal so far were some orange-coloured dumplings Tiki had fed him which didn't really taste of anything. There was a long discussion, and Chana and Ooouli seemed to come up with an idea, dashing from the table and rummaging in cupboards. A packet was found; the contents were mixed with boiled water, and a dish was presented to him. The resultant concoction was a grey slurry with a faint lavender tint. It looked vile, and with certain reservation, Ben tasted it. It was...actually all right. Rich and incredibly sweet, like a sugary gravy, but he could swallow it. The family were delighted. The dumplings were known as phuff. Shaarm said they were something the girls had eaten as infants, and they only kept it in the house as Tiki still wanted them occasionally if she wasn't feeling well. The grey slop was called grol, and Ben was not really surprised to learn that it was leftover food from a small mammal the girls had once kept. Baby food and pet food. If he came out of this experience with any dignity left, it would be astonishing.

After the mission of finding Ben food had been accomplished, the family turned to conversation. Ben, finding himself surprisingly full after eating the first real meal that he could remember, listened intently. The Kheelian language did not seem as alien as it had first sounded, and he began to pick up a few words here and there. Ooouli saw him watching the speakers.

"Learning?" she said, in Basic.

"I'll try," he answered, and pointed to her datapads still scattered on the floor. "What are you studying?" he asked her. Ooouli, it turned out, went to a school in the town Tszaaf, and she loved to learn. The translating device was actually a small computing tool she used for her school work; translation was just one of its many functions. She was currently reading all the lessons she had about Galactic Basic, so she could talk to Ben better. Her favourite subjects were History, and something the translator gave as Oneness. Ben wasn't certain what this last subject involved, but it seemed to include, from what Ooouli said, a study of holistics, the nature of fate in comparison to causality, and discussion of personal choice and individual rights versus societal duty. It sounded rather advanced for a small child, and Ben told her she must be extremely clever. Ooouli said she wanted to go into Anti-Conflict Law when she grew up. Ben was again not sure what that involved, but he liked the sound of it.

The conversation prompted him to ask more about the family. Shaarm, he knew, was a surgeon. She and Pakat explained that they had met at the university in the City, where he had been studying ecology. When he had been assigned to the Kender moors, they had moved to Thet together. There they had met Chana, who was a poet and artist, and, from what Ben could gather, somewhat celebrated at both. Chana also managed their smallholding and kitchen garden where they grew their food and livestock.

Ben listened with rapt attention to this amazing world unfolding before him. The arts seemed to be highly valued in Kheelian culture, and they prized learning, and balance, and peace. Even the structure of the marriage was formed on the principles of balance, in that a triangle was the strongest shape. Each of the adults worked through two of the planet's three seasons, known as the Rising, the Growing, and the Falling. It was currently just becoming the coldest season, the Falling, which meant that Pakat would stay at home to care for the children, while the other two worked in the surgery or sowed crops on the farmlands. In the Growing, Chana travelled to sell his art, and there was a lot for Pakat to do on the moor, so Shaarm remained at home during that time. In the Rising, Chana remained at home, while the others worked. Grandmother seemed to be the key link in tying the family into the local community. She was responsible for preserving the memories and traditions between the families in Thet and in other villages.

Ben marvelled at the system, and couldn't help but wonder, for the first time, just what he had lost when he forgot everything. What were his own relationships like? Did he have a spouse, or children to care for? What values did his culture place above all others? He thought of the scars on his skin. It seemed like peace was not among them, at any rate.

Tiki had remained mostly silent throughout the meal, staring at Ben with her wide blue eyes, as if he was a puzzle she couldn't figure out. In a lull in the conversation, she addressed him quizzically; he knew the question was directed at him as it was preceded by Benben but he was at a loss as to what was asked. Shaarm came to his rescue.

"She wants to know why you only have fur on your head and chin and not the rest of your face or your arms. She is wondering if you burned your fur off in an accident."

The question made Ben laugh, but the others seemed genuinely interested in the response.

"You can tell her I was not in an accident. It is just the nature of the way my hair grows," he said.

"Does that mean all Pechnar have bald faces? They only grow fur on their chins?" Ooouli asked, via translator, her curiosity peaked too.

"No, only the males have fur on their chins, but most have it on their heads. And some shave it off their faces because they think it improves their looks."

Ooouli looked horrified and fascinated at the same time.

"What does the red of your fur indicate?" asked Shaarm, now that the floor seemed to be open to questions. "I have always wondered about the colours when I encountered Pechnar but did not feel I could ask. Your colour is one I have never seen before."

"It does not signify anything, I am afraid," said Ben, feeling like he going to disappoint them. "It is to do with pigmentation of a substance called melanin in the hair follicles, which may be affected by race or genetics. It does not indicate gender, although the colour does change with age. The elderly can have grey or white hair, or no hair at all."

"So Pechnar would have the same colour hair as their parents?" Shaarm asked.

"Usually," Ben answered, "but not always, and siblings can have different colour hair from each other."

Grandmother said something that he didn't catch, and the adults around the table looked thoughtful.

"She said," translated Shaarm, "that it is interesting that you can remember such detail about Pechnar biology, but nothing of yourself. She says it seems significant that you have lost only your own history."

Ben was startled; she was right of course, and he had not noticed. He could not consciously have said he remembered anything about his physiology, but when they had asked he did retain taught knowledge. What else might he remember, if prompted with the right query?

The meal ended with the pouring of a rich blue liquid into small glasses, which the children were not given. Shaarm offered one to Ben, with a warning that it was strong. It was clearly alcoholic, and had a tangy, citrusy taste, but he quite liked it and finished his glass. The Kheelians watched this in amazement, before cautiously sipped theirs as if the drink was incredibly strong; Pakat even coughed a little. Ben smiled. At least there was something on this planet that was not toxic or thoroughly unpleasant.

The family talked for a little longer, but eventually the children started to fidget. The light had faded swiftly from the dome of the roof above their heads. The room was darkening, with scattered low-energy lights mounted on the walls twinkling into light as dusk fell, casting beams of warm low light over the curved space of the house. Shaarm sent the children to clear the table. Chana and Grandmother disappeared through one of the other doors. Ben would have offered to help carry the dishes, but forced to rely on his staff, and with broken fingers too, he was more likely to get in their way or drop something. If he was being honest, sitting upright on the raised backless stool for that length of time had starting to take its toll on his ribs and damaged abdomen in the form of a deep, unrelenting ache.

Pakat, as he passed, seemed to recognise the tightness of pain and tiredness in Ben's posture, and with an anxious clicking sound, he peered into the man's face. Ben tried to smile, not wanting to show his fading strength, but Pakat was not taken in. He called something softly to Shaarm.

"It is time you went to lie down," she said firmly, coming over. He considering protesting, but there really was not much point. If Shaarm thought he should be somewhere, she would just pick him up and take him, whatever he said.

"Say goodnight to Ben," she instructed the girls. They both came over together, tangling their hands in his hair and beard, and stroking his back.

"Goodnight," he told them, and rubbed their furry heads and ears. Ooouli giggled, and patted him on the back of the neck. "Learning," she said again, followed by "Goodnight Ben,"

As if to emphasize his earlier thought about being carried places, Pakat handed Ben his staff to hold, and then carefully lifted the man up and rested him against his elbow, in the same way Shaarm had carried him to the bathroom the previous day.

"I can walk," Ben couldn't help but protest.

"But you do not have to," pointed out Shaarm, who had turned back towards the kitchen. "Goodnight Ben!"

Pakat carried him first to the washroom, where Ben was pleased to note that the IV fluids seemed to be doing something to improve his bruised kidney at any rate. After he had finished, Pakat returned him to the side room where he had been sleeping, setting him down with marked gentleness, still humming the whole time. Ben lowered himself down onto his sleeping mat with relief. It was not the wound on his thigh that was hurting so much now as his hip. Hopefully some rest was all he needed. Pakat ruffled his hair in a way that was becoming more familiar to him and slipped out of the room, raising up on his hind legs to pull the door to behind him.

Ben laid back, resting his eyes, and listened for a long time to the sound of humming that was making its way from the living room. His head was spinning. Why did he remember some things, but not others? How could he recall how to walk and dress himself and speak, but not where he was born, or who his family were, or how he had been injured? What had caused him to lose his memory? Was anyone out there looking for him?

Ignorance, yet knowledge, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. He barely heard it. He fell asleep with his questions unanswered, and music flowing into his dreams.