Judgment

“First things first. I’ll tell you all straight out. This online convocation was not my idea. Tuussay insists.”

“It is so. Humans learn about Liuapands. Intelligent or not? Beloved Jen choose. Beloved Jen good chooser.”

“Right. Did everyone get the downloads?”

“What size are these aliens? They look kinda like squids.”

“Not squids, beloved Matt.”

“Some sort of octopus?”

“With eleven arms?”

“Not octopus, beloved Anna. Liuapands. Not from Earth.”

“Yeah, they’re aliens.”

“How can we possibly figure out if they’re intelligent?”

“Humans ask. Ask many good, good questions.”

“Hey, we should get to decide. We should vote. Since when did this become a dictatorship. Why Jen?”

“Not dictatorship. Jen choose.”

“I don’t think Tuussay has grasped the nature of—"

“So, what are we supposed to be doing here?”

“Humans ask questions. Good, good questions.”

“Why? Wouldn’t you know if these things are intelligent?”

“Humans ask questions. Jen chooses. Jen is good chooser. Jen will choose in one hour.”

“What? One hour?!?!”

“This is a farce. Not scientific at all.”

“If so, it’ll be very fast farce.”

“LOL.”

“What if we don’t? What if Jen doesn’t? What’ll you do?”

Beloved Jen chooses. One hour.”

“Ya see, guys? I’m stuck with the job. I don’t know why, but Tuussay is really insistent.”

“I’ll help.”

“So will I.”

“I won’t. I’m gone.”

“I’ll hang in there. Damned if I know how I can help.”

“It’s still a farce.”

“It seems I need a timer. Tom, will you do it?”

“Sure, Sis. What else would a baby physicist have to do in this kind of dustup?”

“Thanks.”

“Humans, study Liuapands. Ask many, many questions.”

“No reference. No scale. Matt asked the question earlier. How big is that thing?”

“Good question, beloved Matt and Stan. In human metric system, 16.4 kilograms.”

“How about in American?”

“It says here, 36 pounds. That’s about the size of an almost full-grown Irish Setter.”

“Thanks for the side-by-side images. That’s a good reference for our human eyes. Pretty dog.”

“Good, good, beloved Stan.”

“Doesn’t look a bit like that dog.”

“LOL.”

“Dog, human pet. Liuapands, not pet.”

“Can a creature that small be intelligent?”

“We’re wasting a lot of time.”

“Tom?”

“52 minutes to go.”

“What am I not seeing? Are they as different inside as they are outside?”

“Much, much different, beloved Kylie.”

“I hope you’ve got more than this. We can’t decide on the basis of these images.”

“Ask, beloved Cru. Humans ask. Many, many good, good questions.”

“Right. Do we have a bona fide biologist in the house?”

“I’m Elizabeth Goodhue, from Dartmouth. I’m also affiliated with—I used to be affiliated with Woods Hole.”

“Any squids around that neck of the woods?”

“Plenty in springtime. At least there were…. We had a small research program going…kids from the local grade school would come and help count. Damn. I miss Earth.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“All saved. Woods Hole saved. Dartmouth saved. Humans, ask many many good questions.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“As you can see, this Liuapand creature is much flatter and fatter than the squid while standing. Of course, the squid doesn’t really stand. I assume these photos are for size comparison.”

“It is so, beloved Elizabeth.”

“The Liuapand has no mantle or fin. Nor does it have a funnel aperture at the top of the mantle for locomotion.”

“English, please.”

“It does not have a bladder as such for locomotion. Clearly, it must use its limbs to move. Instead, this Liuapand has a pouch at the center of those, yes, 11 tentacles. I assume this is the feeding intake orifice?”

“It is so, beloved Elizabeth. Liuapands feed there.”

“Can we get a close-up of one? That’s better. Interesting. Smaller tentacles—fingers? Out of each larger tentacle.”

“Good, good. Pluck food. Feed pouch.”

“Inserting them into their bottoms.”

“Gross.”

“Hey, that’s their anatomy, not ours.”

“LOL.”

“This is all well and good. But we have no perspective on this creature whatsoever. For instance, where do these creatures live?”

“What’s their planetary climate like?”

“Yeah. What kind of world are we talking about?”

“Good, good questions, beloved humans. Read data.”

“Scan this 156-page document with my woefully inadequate eyes?”

“Important aspects highlighted.”

“Thanks—a lot.”

“That’s a damned large world. Wouldn’t these creatures feel heavy?”

“Yeah, it’s twice as big as Earth.”

“At least.”

“Now this is an interesting bit of datum. It puts a new twist on things.”

“What’s that, Robert?”

“The surface gravity is about 2/3rds that of Earth’s. Ah, I see it now. Not just a big ocean covering the surface. It goes deep. Really deep. A lot of water, folks. I’m skimming as fast as I can. Enormous undersea mountains. Bigger than the Hawaiian mountains were. Submerged continental plates grinding away at each other. Underwater and above water vulcanism. Lots of flumes.”

“Water has a lot less weight than iron. Earth is—was—mostly iron.”

“Liuapands will have no problem at all with surface gravity.”

“Water, water everywhere.”

“Waterworld, right?”

“Somebody’s showing their age.”

“LOL.”

“Not Waterworld. Ekannia. Good word for human use.”

“Okay. Ekannia.”

“I’m a planetologist from Zurich. Are you sure of the distance of, er, Ekannia from its primary? Too far. That star is putting out less energy than our Sun did. Waterworld should be Iceworld.”

“What kind of climate are we talking about, Tuussay? How do these creatures get to live in the tropics when they’re so far away from their star?”

“Good, good questions, beloved Stan. Beloved Erica answer.”

“All of that volcanic activity serves to create a strong greenhouse atmosphere. Do you have videos? Good. Watch them spew forth those gases. They keep the planet at an average balmy 83 degrees F.”

“Miami. As it used to be.”

“Miami all saved, beloved Stan.”

“Alright, Tuussay. We got a big bodacious greenhouse effect happening here. No icecaps. No continents. Air currents flow freely around the world, which means the whole place must be like tropical. Good place for a vacation. Miami indeed.”

“Much much sulfur. Harm humans. Humans not go. Not ever. Not.”

“I guess that takes care of that. No exploring strange new worlds for us.”

“Humans not harmed. Not ever.”

“Okay, back to Ekannia. That explains the high sulfur content in the creatures’ metabolism. It showed up in what—autopsies?”

“Not. Noninvasive study. Humans not have technology.”

“Geez. A whole row of them—pulling themselves through those weeds.”

“Not just pulling. They are also feeding. And planting?”

“I don’t see much sign of intelligence.”

“Liuapands put ball in ground. Good, good.”

“More videos? Close-ups?”

“Oh, wow! They ARE planting. Maybe they’re underwater farmers.”

“What kind of environmental gradients did you find, Tuussay?”

“Good. Good question from beloved Gerhard. Little gradient temperature. Little cooler at bottom. Many, many gradients of—human word smell?”

“Ah, the scientific term is pheromones.”

“Good. Good. Many many pheromones. Liuapands emit. Liuapands follow. Very close.”

“An automatic response? A feedback loop?”

“Beloved Jen choose?”

“Hell no. Just asking.”

“Good, beloved Jen ask good question.”

“We’ve arrived at the key point in this discussion. The question of brains.”

“Tuussay, does this creature have anything resembling human brains, or any Earth creature’s brains?”

“Beloved Chris, view pods. Found in each—human words—upper tentacle.”

“Nice schematics. Very detailed.”

“Is this an example of distributed intelligence?”

“This Liuapand could be very smart, or it might take too long for signals to carry. That mare’s nest of—I think they’re neurons—well, it’s hard to tell.”

“The bauplan is off.”

“The what?”

“The bauplan. The body plan. The general arrangement of an organism and related organisms. The average body plan of the species. I can’t make head or tail out of this Liuapand, Pun intended.”

“LOL.”

“What’s the problem, Doc?”

“The anatomy makes no sense, at least not to me.”

“We need a neuro-something. Some word like that.”

“Neuroscientist.”

“Yeah.”

“Dr. James Schembechler, at your service. No, I’m not related. I was Professor of Neurology at Michigan State when there was a Michigan State.”

“Greetings, beloved James.”

“I’d like to ask a few pointed questions about the Liuapands’ neuroanatomy. To us humans, it looks damned strange.”

“I too am neuroscientist. Friedrich Hertzen, Professor at Freiberg University in Germany. Ah, no more.”

“Thanks to Tuussay and its buddies.”

“Michigan State. Freiberg. All saved.”

“Dammit, our sorry history doesn’t fit in this discussion.”

“35 minutes.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

“I’m looking at this mess. There are no central brains showing in this schematic, like there are in squids. Everything’s in those pods. This thing is too alien. No way to determine anything.”

“Caren Cane here. I used to work at Johns Hopkins until certain aliens came along and—"

“Greetings, beloved Caren.”

“I’ve been tracing your schematics and you’re right. It’s as convoluted as hell. Just judging from this, I’d say these creatures can’t possibly be intelligent.”

“Emergent neuro-architecture—best human words.”

“I was guessing a kind of primitive group intelligence earlier. Each pod on each tentacle being just a little intelligent.”

“Interesting conjecture. Where’s the proof in any of this?”

“Humans ask many, many good questions.”

“We need to see more action. What do these creatures do? Where do they go?”

“Good, good question, beloved Matt. Watch videos.”

“What are you seeing that I wouldn’t notice?”

“Well, Robert. There are 20, no, 25 of the creatures pulling on what look like underwater cornstalks. They seem to be working in tight rows, grasping some sort of bulb, holding it in “fingers,” tiny endings to those tentacles when they’re not using the main tentacles to pull. Now that’s interesting.”

“What?”

“Each in turn pulls downward. Right there, into what looks to be extremely rich bottomland in the estuary.”

“Of course, it’s underwater. Lots of nutrients must drift in.”

“Yeah. Check out the bare spot it just cleared. Now, note how it closes its fingers and shoves the bulb into soil. Close up, please?”

“It is done.”

“This one has very, very slowly opened up its ‘fingers’ as it released what looks like long thin fibers taken from stalks. Now its packing them around the bulb.”

“Fertilizer?”

“It’s planting them.”

“Yes.”

“Others keep trimming those big plants. Do you think they planted them earlier?”

“It is so. Humans watch videos.”

“Wow! They did. How long ago?”

“20 human weeks ago.”

“There they come. They’re trimming off what look to be cuttings. What we saw when that one planted them.

“Good. Good, beloved Chris.”

“What do you make of all that, Robert?”

“They are farming. They are. Damned intelligently, too. Weeding, planting, harvesting. Right there just outside the inlet into the estuary. How do you suppose they do all three things simultaneously?”

“I am Doctor Ioshi, a physiologist from Tokyo University. May I examine close videos of grips of Liuapands, please, Tuussay?”

“Good, good question, beloved Hiachi.”

“Grips?”

“Power grip and precision grip, I’ll bet. What we humans do with hands and thumbs.”

“Humans. Good, good hands, thumbs.”

“Sure signs of intelligence?”

“Maybe. Jen gets to decide. With no science background at all, I might add.”

“I keep telling Tuussay that very thing. The warning doesn’t do any good.”

“Beloved Jen, good chooser. She chooses.”

“How much time, Tom?”

“21 minutes.”

“Damn.”

“There, Doctor. One alien is mucking about uprooting a plant that’s seen better days. Interesting technique. It entwined three arms—more like tentacles. Gave it enough power.”

“Yes. It is a true power grip.”

“Well, we’ve already seen the precision grip. The nice way the creature just nipped off those cuttings.”

“True. May I watch again?”

“Good, good, beloved Hiachi.”

“Yes. I concur. It is a true precision grip.”

“I’m leaning towards intelligence right now.”

“So am I, Robert.”

“But we need more data, a lot more data.”

“It is so, beloved Chris.”

“Lots of plants, huge mats of them in the oceans—excuse me—the world ocean. Yeah. More oxygen, more sulfur. Lots of nutrient flow from those rivulets off the mountains into estuaries.”

“They look a lot like places I’ve studied.”

“Those Liuapand creatures must never run out of food, right?”

“Much, much food. Liuapands eat. All good.”

“Seems an awfully pleasant world.”

“I suppose, unless it breeds a lot of nasty predator types.”

“Not. Not predators. Not evolved.”

“Really? Wouldn’t some line of descent, you know, sort of take advantage of rich pluckings?”

“Not predators.”

“And how come these Liuapands haven’t spread all over their world? All those islands, lots of inlets and estuaries, I’ll bet. Nothing to stop them.”

“Good. Good questions, beloved Matt. Slow reproduce Liuapands.”

“What?”

“Let’s see now. Scanning the data as fast as possible—yet again. These are rich feeding grounds. With the size of the world, there must be millions of islands.”

“9.367 million islands on Ekannia.”

“And yet, according to these document, the Liuapands are living on only 37 islands. I don’t believe it.”

“What went wrong, Tuussay?”

“Nothing wrong.”

“But…”

“Maybe they just—emerged, evolutionarily speaking.”

“Liuapands species exist 2.32 million human years.”

“No.”

“It doesn’t track.”

“Check it out. They’re in paradise. They’re feasting every day. Don’t they believe in sex?”

“Wouldn’t be paradise for me.”

“LOL.”

“I see. One child buds off, what, no this can’t be right, every 83 years? No. After the death of an elder?”

“Beloved Russell. Sometimes not only after old Liaupands die.”

“They don’t get it on very often.”

“More children not needed.”

“Boy, I bet that slowed down evolution to a crawl, that and the nice living conditions.”

“Unchanging conditions. Think of the shark.”

“Why? They don’t look anything like sharks.”

“But like the shark, they are optimized for unchanging conditions. They may evolve, but extremely slowly.”

“Is Ekannia normal or off the charts as far as evolution goes in the galaxy?”

“Ekannia ecology only little slower. Galactic norm slow, beloved Anna.”

“A little? You mean Ekannia is—almost normal?”

“Beloved Jen right.”

“The implications of that for us humans and Earth is—"

“Off topic, dammit. What’s the time?”

“16 minutes. Crap, but the implications are huge.”

“Not ask questions of humanity, beloved Tom. Ask questions of Liuapands.”

“Later, Tuussay.”

“Not.”

“There’s no way I can choose, Tuussay.”

“Beloved Jen good chooser. Choose. Good.”

“I’m not the genius you think I am.”

“Beloved Jen genius.”

“Aaack!”

“Let’s watch some more videos, 5X speed. I want to see a group of Liuapands. And I want to do so with time to spare.”

“Good idea.”

“I like the way they flow.”

“Flow. Good human word, beloved Anna.”

“I suggest we watch that group flow. Perhaps the intelligence doesn’t reside in the individual Liuapand.”

“Where would it be?”

“Distributed among a group.”

“Wonderful group motions. They remind me of birds.”

“They don’t look a thing like birds.”

“No. The way they flock.”

“A school of fish? Ants? Bees? Swarms?”

“Large mammals herding?”

“New Yorkers?”

“LOL.”

“No, definitely more like birds flocking.”

“They’re approaching a, whadyacallit, a grove of plants. The first one nibbles, others flow in, nibble, pull, plant, nibble, pull, plant, over and over again.”

“There’s something terribly wrong here.”

“Yes indeed. Without change—"

“Robert?”

“I think you know the answer, Jen. I’m not saying another word.”

“Can you show us videos of other groups of Liuapands?”

“Yes, beloved Jen.”

“How do they handle their day?”

“Good. Good human questions.”

“Those videos look awfully similar?”

“Try identical.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“What the hell is going on. Human days don’t look all that similar, not even on the farm. I should know.”

“Are you sure those videos are of different groups?”

“It is so.”

“Can you show us videos of groups of the Liuapands over the ages? I assume you have been tracking them for some time.”

“It is so. Good. Good question, beloved Jen.”

“5X again. We’re short on time.”

“Again, these videos look almost identical. They can’t be from different eras.”

“It is so. Video 1, 2.5 million human years ago.”

“Video 2, 1.25 million human years ago.”

“Video 3, 0.75 million human years ago.”

“Video 4, 3 human weeks ago. “

“Tuussay, you’ve been tracking them for how long? But they all look like they were shot yesterday.”

“Not.”

“Are you sure?”

“It is so.”

“I’d like to see a series of these videos from random times and random groups. Something is really, really wrong here.”

“Good. Good, beloved Jen.”

“Identical. Again. Damn. You know what this means.”

“Right, Kyla. I’m sorry. I know you wanted—"

“Just 4 minutes left, Jen.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

“I’m watching it again. I wanted the Liuapands to be intelligent, too.”

“Beloved Jen choose. Good, good.”

“Tuussay, you win.”

“Not win, not lose. Learn. Good humans.”

“Um, Sis. Is this your final answer?”

“Yes. They are not intelligent. The slow evolution, lovely climate, no predators, little change. It all adds up. Their superb adaptation reveals no intelligent manipulation, no intent at all. It’s manipulation by rote. No. Not by rote, by instinct, guided by pheromone flows. This explains why what they do is identical to what they used to do. They simply do what their ancestors did. It’s optimal for their survival—for millions of years to come. Right, Tuussay?”

“Good. Good. Jen choose.”

“But did she get it right?”

“Beloved Jen choose.”

“Tuussay, you’re not gonna tell us, are you?”

“This is so unscientific.”

“The aliens knew the right answer all along, I’ll bet.”

“But we humans don’t. We can’t be sure.”

“This was a test, only a test. If this were a real--”

“Humans good. Jen good chooser.”

“But are the Liuapands really unintelligent? It’s important we get it right.”

“Good. Good. Good choosing.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“Humans ready.”