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It has taken a few weeks, but the Quiratan Council has finally approved what
are colloquially being called the Superintendent Games. They’re keeping it
quiet, though, because of some very vague language in the original charter.
The role is up for grabs by literally anyone in the universe. If they
broadcast the news, some rando from a crabitat could come in and order the
uquira fields to be destroyed, or the military could use them for
strategic purposes. The Eyrenlanders are threat enough, and since
they’re paying close attention to what’s happening here, there is no keeping
them out of it.
Fortunately, it sounds like the tests will be grueling, and
bodily-exclusive, meaning anyone in an enhanced substrate will be required
to downgrade to baseline human status. This includes shutting down backup
consciousness streams. If you die in the games—and that is absolutely a
possibility—you die for good. You’re not even allowed to keep a copy of
yourself in storage prior to registration, just so at least one version of
you survives. This is a one and done deal, and the majority of hopefuls are
not willing to take that risk, especially not since the particulars are not
entirely clear. Even with the mortal peril, Jande is not doing this alone.
Nine others have opted to vie for the position, including one of those
random transtellar people they were worried about. He somehow found out
about it from all the way in the galaxy’s Extended Bubble.
While everyone waits for the games, the Doma Tertians have become integrated
into the community. Most native families have taken two or three new spouses
out of the pool, while Jande has only married Ersence. He didn’t feel he
needed any more. A fire started as a result of the black hole on one farm,
which wiped out almost all of their fields before it could be contained.
While they wait for the soil to renew itself for later in the year, the
family has opted to sublet the Ter Avest farm for winter work. It’s a
win-win situation for both families, and not nearly the first time something
like this has happened, so there was a clear protocol for it. Jande,
meanwhile, has been in training.
Despite what detractors might say, Jande doesn’t have any more information
about the Superintendent competition than anyone else. The procedures were
literally kept locked in a vault. It took a day just to find this vault in
the first place, and then a couple more days to figure out how to unlock it.
Anyone who lays eyes on any of the documents that were found inside becomes
instantly disqualified from participating. One of the Eyrenlanders broke
into council chambers a few days ago, and after some interrogation, admitted
that he was trying to steal competition secrets. Everyone assumed from that
response that he was looking for a competitive advantage, but Jande pressed
further. The intruder eventually confessed that he actually intended to show
the plans to all competitors but one, so the games would be over before they
even began. That’s not even the main concern right now, though. The most
pressing issue is coming in about ninety seconds.
Jande is lying on his back on the bench, pressing the weights up towards the
sky. His head is throbbing from the workout, but he’s not done with his set,
so he keeps going. His vision sometimes blurs, which would be fine if every
time it happened he didn’t start to panic that a black hole was opening up
just above the clouds. Whatever, that just raises his heart rate, which is
good for him right now. It’s nearly over when his one and only current
wife’s face moves in from the side, haloed by Tau Ceti’s sun dog. She knows
not to speak when he’s in this state. He finishes and sits up.
“Are you well and done?” She hands him his towel that was hanging on a
branch.
Jande breathes and wipes his brow. “I’ll never be done, but I can take a
break.”
“Good.” Ersence clears her throat. “We’ve not been married for long, so you
don’t know me very well, but one thing you should understand is that I don’t
like to waste time. If I have something to tell you, I will tell it, and I
won’t be delicate.”
“Marriage isn’t the same here as it is in other places,” Jande begins. “This
is an arrangement, we don’t have to get to know each other if you prefer to
remain detached.”
“I was hoping you would feel that way,” she says, “because this next part
would feel like a betrayal if you thought you were entitled to some level of
loyalty.”
Jande forces himself to stop panting so it doesn’t undercut the seriousness
of whatever she’s about to say. “This sounds concerning. Get on with it.”
“I have entered the competition,” Ersence reveals. “I want to be
Superintendent.”
Jande stands and begins to peel off his sweaty clothes. “I should have
known. That’s not a loyalty question, Ersence. It’s about common decency.
You had nothing. I took you in, and limited the amount of work you would be
doing. Do you have any idea how long it takes to find a spouse the usual
way? The compatibility tests can only get you so far. People
think they wanna work, right up until about a day and a half after
they wake up achy, sore, and unfulfilled. That’s why we typically wait two
months before the wedding.” He steps into the shower. “Eleven degrees, two
minutes,” he commands.
Ersence shakes her head. “I’ll never get your culture. Do you like tech or
not?”
Jande stands under the cold water. “Tech is a tool. Using my voice is a
convenience, but it does not save me meaningful effort. Our culture dictates
that automation is not to be used as a replacement for labor. No one would
categorize taking a shower as work, so it doesn’t go against our
principles.” He starts to scrub up.
Ersence watches the neighbors taking a walk along the path. She waves
reluctantly. “What were you saying about decency and compatibility?” she
questions.
“If you wanna be a contender, I won’t stop you. I understand that you’re
trying to do what’s best for your people, but that’s where you and I differ.
I’m trying to do what’s best for the land.” The water stops. He grabs his
bath towel. “Studies have shown that uquira and uquirapods live happier, and
for longer, when eyren are nearby. Does that make sense to you? What
essentially boils down to a waste product improves quality of life for a
species that didn’t evolve the instinct to do it for themselves. We think
the unfertilized eggs that people all over the galaxy consume release a
pheromone that their progenitors like. But they need us to plant for them.
It’s called a symbiotic relationship.
“I’m fighting to preserve that, whether I have the honor of living here, or
not. This is the only planet we have ever found that has as diverse a
biosphere as Earth. I’m a part of that, and now so are you. The Eyrenlanders
milk it for all it’s worth. What they don’t see is the farmwork
is the gift, not the chore that you have to complete to get to the
nuggety center. Do you appreciate what I’m saying to you, Ersence?”
“You’re saying that the Eyrenlanders have to be stopped at all costs.”
Jande chuckles. “I’m saying all uquirakind are depending on us to protect
them.”
“Well, I didn’t sign up for the animals,” Ersence admits. “I did it for the
Doma Tertians, but if I win, you and yours will always have a place here.”
“Honestly, I hope it doesn’t come to that. May the best person win.”
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