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  Sarazen's station was on the third floor and his office comprised of a small number of fellow troubleshooters, administrators and an overseer. The overseer was called Pagus and his room was situated just past the 'theatre' where silicants could be examined and adjusted if required. Sarazen always made a point of greeting Pagus on his arrival. He enjoyed his relationship with his overseer, there was little to separate them in age but Pagus's position as overseer meant that he naturally held the more authoritative post. It really mattered little as Sarazen was conscientious and exacting in his duties and left little for the overseer to do except distribute jobs and file reports on individuals that required further service or renewal.

  “Hello Sarazen. You will find this cycle's agenda at your terminal.” Pagus said as a matter of habit. The cyclical ritual never changed.

  “Hello Sir. Thank you. I trust Belya is fine and content?” Sarazen asked after his overseer's companion with whom he had met on occasions on the rest cycle.

  “She is indeed.” Pagus replied, safe in the knowledge that his companion was at home sanitising. The overseers were smartly constructed individuals. They naturally exuded confidence and were always imposing. Despite the light nature of the conversation, the sound of an overseer's vocal output always brought about hyper-flux and a sense of urgency in the carrying out of the individual’s duties. Sarazen bid Pagus farewell and went about accessing his terminal to see what he had lined up for the remaining work cycle. Sarazen gently pulled the terminal feed out of the network node and attached it to his data port. It need only be attached fleetingly as the information download was momentary. Sarazen's first assignment was an intriguing one. A farmer with a possible data port malfunction. This was usually a hardware issue that could seldom be rectified. A faulty data port was always unacceptable and loss of integrity of The Mother's feed was viewed as a catastrophic failure which could lead to corruption of data flow on more than just a localised scale. This was about as bad as it got and Sarazen had been given a priority red assignment to travel to the farmer's residence to assist at the soonest possible juncture.

  Sarazen pulled his terminal feed and headed straight out of the office only to be called back by Pagus.

  “Sarazen. Regarding the priority red, The Mother has requested full disclosure. Do a good job, yes?” Pagus spoke with an intolerably serious tone that made Sarazen suddenly aware that this was no ordinary job.

  “Yes Sir, always.” Sarazen nodded respectfully and shuffled out of the office and on to the elevation platform which offered its services but with an unnerving shudder. Sarazen arched his head back and stretched his neck. The priority red call was not out of the ordinary but The Mother's direct involvement was quite extraordinary. It only served to heighten Sarazen's wish to do well in his duties and propelled him along at a brisk walk out of the lobby and to the nearest transit station.

  This assignment would take Sarazen out into the high ground beyond the shining pinnacles of the city and into the realm of the organics. It was not the first time Sarazen had crossed this wild and rugged frontier, but with every previous incident, enough time had passed to make each episode sufficiently different to the last causing a noticeable caution in Sarazen's approach. The organics’ habitat was in a constant state of flux, individual species were changing over time to adapt to their new environments. More and more seters would flourish cycle upon cycle and their reach grew far and wide. It would not be too long before even the city would be swallowed up by the burgeoning mass and then what? The very subjects of the silicants’ devoted guardianship could unwittingly drive them from their homes.

  The ground beneath the silicants’ feet often moved in shuddering tremors and this would bring chaos to previously calm and contented organics who would scurry away into their dens or throw their extremities into the air in a primitive rage. The silicants were seldom troubled by the quakes but they brought out an instinctive fear in the organics which was difficult to quantify. It was difficult to protect something which could not be understood. Sarazen spent many a journey processing the endless paradox. Perhaps the farmers were designed to have a better understanding of the organics they cultivated. After all, Sarazen was not meant to understand such things; he was just a troubleshooter after all.

  CHAPTER 3

  The transit carriage sped through the barren, dusty terrain towards the high ground. The carriage was empty bar the operator and Sarazen who keenly sat upright on the front seat scanning the environment. Seters sporadically graced the land wherever the volatile 'corrosive' flowed. Silicants took care to avoid building their homes in these places. The corrosive was seemingly harmless initially but inevitably destructive. It was difficult to manipulate and wherever it settled, the organics proliferated. Perhaps another reason why the silicants did not settle closely to the organics? Sarazen's train of thought was briefly broken as a dark, fleeting shadow raced across the path of the carriage and there was a sudden jarring thud. Sarazen sat bolt upright and looked around in confusion attempting to digest what happened.

  “Operator, what was that?” He asked leaning forward to the impassive driver.

  “We struck an organic, Sir. Nothing to concern yourself over. It is a common occurrence, could not be avoided, Sir.” The operator droned as if it were not the first time he had spoke those words.

  “Did the organic cease to function?” Sarazen inquired further, knowing in reality, the operator could not possibly know the answer. Such illogical thought patterns were a trait which was best left concealed in company and the troubleshooter shook his head in mild disgust at his ignorance.

  “Sorry Sir. I cannot compute that query; however, the mass of this carriage combined with its velocity would no doubt cause major structural damage to organic tissue...” The operator paused before finishing his sentence.

  “...I hope not Sir.” The operator said in a subdued tone. The silicants’ most important directive was the protection of organic life. Sarazen was not programmed to compute the consequential aspects and nuances of witnessing its termination. It did not seem to faze the operator who continued dutifully with his function however, Sarazen could not remove the image and the sound from his memory. He relived the moment over and over in order to find some sense from it but he could not. Eventually the slowing carriage jolted him out of his recurring conundrum and he looked around him to see the blur of the passing seters as he felt the incline of the track increase markedly. Sarazen sat back and hoped that The Mother would again douse the fire of confusion in the forthcoming down time. It did not compute that the primary command had obviously been transgressed and no consequence had arisen. The organic could not have survived the impact; indeed, the liquid tissues had stained the transparent frontage of the fast moving carriage. Deeper thought only brought about more paradox and Sarazen could feel himself begin to lose clarity of thought as a cycle of doubt and negativity began to feedback on itself causing him to utter a muted noise in apparent distress. What was the distinction between accidental and wilful termination? The primary command was not open to interpretation. It did not have clauses or sub commands, it was black and white. If the organic did indeed cease to function then was the operator not in breach of his primary command? Was Sarazen himself not also culpable as it was his presence on board the carriage which defined the precise speed and location of the carriage when the organic was struck? Was the operator to face consequential action regarding the failure to comply? What was the consequence of non compliance? Why was Sarazen even computing in this way? The endless permutations of the witnessed event began to overload Sarazen's computational core and his temperature began to reach potentially dangerous levels. It was fortunate then that the carriage’s sudden stop at the destination lurched Sarazen from his mental torture and he alighted being sure to look lingeringly at the macabre red mark on the front left of the carriage.

  Sarazen scanned his environment. The first thing he noticed was the steep incline of the terrain which wobbled him and forced him to
adjust his feet. There were seters everywhere and in places, giant shadows fell across the ground before him where the Star’s light was compromised by their complex canopies. The second sensory stimulus which took him by surprise was the cacophony of noise; organic gibberish that could not be filtered by Sarazen’s auditory receptors confounded the silicant as he marched dutifully up the steep winding path towards a small conurbation. Stopping briefly to look back down and over the sprawling metropolis, Sarazen concluded that it was a wonderful sight, but one that made him feel very small and insignificant, and also gave him a feeling of peculiarity, it was his home but it was still somewhat alien to him. He concluded that he was not functioning at optimal parameters and perhaps the rising core temperature brought about by the incident on the carriage and the heat of the mid cycle Star was now having an effect on his data flow. Sarazen could not remember feeling this way before, he began to worry that there was some kind of malfunction, although it seemed unlikely. Perhaps he could ask one of his colleagues to give him an examination to ease his mind. No, he did not want to share this with anyone yet, it did not seem pertinent.

  Sarazen’s target was a farmer known as Cole. Cole was an ageing silicant. Data collated at the office suggested that either Cole's cyclical feed was non operative, or he was wilfully not proceeding with the normal down time procedure correctly. This was not only detrimental to the individual silicant, as they would no longer join with The Mother and thus bond with the collective to share and collect important data, but it was commonly known that silicants could not retain functionality without this vital uplink on a cyclical basis. As a troubleshooter, Sarazen was technically adept at silicant maintenance but there were still areas concerning the network to The Mother that he did not understand. He presumed that this knowledge was not required to fulfil his functionality, so never had cause to question why certain things were the way they were. There seemed no technological reason why a silicant would cease to function without the down time feed but if he was honest, and silicants knew no other way than to be truthful, Sarazen had never stopped to think that deeply about it.

  The job description did not suggest how long Cole had been malfunctioning for, but it was possible that he had already expired. If that was the case, he would have to call in a 'collector' to return Cole's body to The Mother for renewal. Sarazen dealt very occasionally with the collectors and was not particularly knowledgeable regarding their area of expertise although he had seen a few of their air transit carriages as they flew over the city. The collectors were not seen as sombre individuals, nor was their work deemed difficult. Renewal was a celebration of continuity and always welcomed. Appointed homemakers would also be renewed in conjunction with their partners as their duties tending their companions could no longer be fulfilled. As far as The Mother’s location was concerned, that fact always eluded Sarazen and did not trouble him. The Mother was omniscient, ever present and essential to the silicants as much as the corrosive was to the organics. In his eyes, The Mother did not have a single locality, The Mother was available to all silicants via their network nodes, however, the fact that the return for renewal would presuppose a set location for this event did not linger long in the thoughts of the average silicant.

  Sarazen walked into the small settlement which was constructed in a clearing of handsome, thriving seters. The buildings were not bustling with activity; it was quiet except the persistent noise of organic output which did not cease. Organic activity in the settlement was startling; Sarazen took great care to mark every footfall in case he crushed one of the scurrying life forms. His stunted movement appeared quite comical to a lone silicant who stood at the front of a nearby structure.

  “Do not worry. They will move out of your way.” The stranger called out as he leaned over on to a railing with the relaxed and casual manner of an individual completely comfortable in his surroundings.

  “Are you sure? They are so frail. I fear I may cause them irreparable damage!” Sarazen called out as he tried to heed the stranger’s advice but still moved awkwardly, stepping over the organics that he could easily detect.

  “Yes. You will see that although they are primitive, they have a strong sense of peril and will do all they can to avoid it. Although of course, some just are not very good at staying out of danger. It is in their nature.” The stranger beckoned Sarazen forward.

  “You are Cole. I have been sent to examine you for defects. I am Sarazen, a troubleshooter.” Sarazen stepped up on to the solidly constructed porch of Cole's home.

  “Yes, yes. I knew they would send someone, although I have to inform you there is no defect.” Cole ushered Sarazen into his living space which immediately struck the troubleshooter as being peculiar to any other living space he had seen. It was disorderly, dirty and infested with organics. Cole's admission that he was not indeed dysfunctional was immediately brought into question in Sarazen’s mind as he saw Cole's exceptional home.

  “Where is your companion?” Sarazen inquired abruptly. It was a valid question; any homemaker who kept the living space in this condition was obviously defective too.

  “I have no companion.” Cole replied, which in itself astonished Sarazen who wanted to ask why by for some reason, but did not pursue the matter.

  “Your living space is disorderly.” Sarazen candidly remarked as Cole invited him to sit.

  “I do not require it to be orderly to maintain my functionality. I am a farmer; my role is to ensure the preservation of the organics.” Cole replied with a manner that Sarazen found difficult to compute. There was something odd about Cole. He was obviously malfunctioning.

  “May I inspect your systems, I have been informed that...” Sarazen was baffled as Cole rudely interrupted his question.

  “No, no. There is no reason to poke around my portal orifice with your cold fingers. I am quite well and that is the end of it. Come, let me show you something quite wonderful.” The ageing farmer stood and beckoned Sarazen through his home and into the rear of the building. Sarazen noted the corrosion on his surface plating particularly around the lower limbs but nothing which could have caused such unusual behavioural patterns. Never before had Sarazen heard a silicant speak so ambiguously or fail to wait for the other talker to finish their sentence. Sarazen followed Cole out into the rear of the building where a large container was situated.

  “Watch this.” Cole whispered as he grasped a handful of small organic fragments and crouched down low, extending his hand out. At first Sarazen could not see what Cole was doing, but as the farmer began to emit unusual sounds, he realised that he was trying to communicate. Within a matter of moments, an organic, brown and skulking, its surface covered with fine bristles, appeared and cautiously approached the smiling farmer. Sarazen watched silently and motionless as the organic took some of the offering in its maw and then scurried off to ingest its prize. Cole turned to Sarazen who watched with great interest.

  “You see, communicative and intelligent. Wonderful.” Cole stood and brushed the remaining food from his hands.

  “Do you see the beauty in this extraordinary place, Sarazen?” Sarazen struggled to understand Cole's meaning but he thought he grasped the concept of attraction, although he did not understand its meaning.

  “I linger whilst viewing the organics, if that is what you mean?” Sarazen replied.

  “It brings you contentment?” Cole was fishing for Sarazen's opinion.

  “Contentment. A difficult concept to compute. Perhaps, yes. If there was no contentment, then I would need not look upon it further. Is that correct?” Sarazen was confused.

  “Ah, you speak of contentment like a true Silicant. Contentment is performing your functions to the optimal level is it not?”

  “Yes. It is.” Sarazen was unsure but it seemed the pertinent answer.

  “No! That is not contentment. Contentment is waking to the sound of the wind as it unsettles the seters, the warmth of the morning Star as it bathes your brow, nurturing a 'leem' from its inception, watchin
g it grow and mature into a fine and proud individual with its own distinct characteristics. These are the things which bring me contentment.”

  “Yes. I understand...in part. I too enjoy the morning warmth, I enjoy the dust as it reflects the light of the Star, I enjoy watching my companion as she walks, her form is... alluring, I cannot say why.” Sarazen allowed himself to enter into this unusual conversation although he should be proceeding with his appointment.

  “Perhaps then, I have underestimated you. Maybe you are not a typical Silicant?” Cole's suggestion mildly irritated Sarazen; in his eyes Sarazen had always performed his role with the greatest of diligence.

  “I can say with great certainty that you are not the typical Silicant. I have never encountered anyone of the like. You do seem to be performing your role efficiently, however. I too would like to pursue more of this 'contentment'. How is it achieved?”