Prelude II | Starbuilders

Side-by-side, Nothaar and Baubu began walking back towards the village. En route, they idly chatted about the various locales that Nothaar had visited and the groups that were inhabiting them. Their conversation never settled on any topic in particular and instead bounced around, driven solely by the whims of the participants. As their voyage took them upon a well-worn path, Nothaar remarked on how he could practically feel the history of the trail itself. "It's quite clear that your people have been coming this way for generations," he noted.

Baubu gave him another one of his playful expressions and - with a sparkle in his eyes - confirmed, "Yes… especially the young lovers. Privacy is difficult to come by, and many people like to escape to a romantic hideaway where they can take in the breathtaking view of the end of the world. I'd be lying if I didn't admit to a few rendezvous and liaisons out there myself during my formative seasons."

Laughing, Nothaar admitted he found the idea appealing, although, he divulged, he was not as young as when he set out on his journey of discovery.

"How long has it been?" Baubu inquired. "When was the last time you saw your home?"

Suddenly pausing in his tracks and almost causing Baubu to careen into him, Nothaar began counting on his fingers. "I set out early in the season, fifteen springs past. My spring, I mean, so your autumn. Therefore, it's been fifteen autumns and a part of this winter, now."

"And how many springs/autumns had you lived before you left?" Baubu delved further as he started walking again, forcing Nothaar to catch up.

Nothaar did not need to count as he knew that number by heart. "Twenty of my own."

"Ah, not so young, but not so old," Baubu observed. "This is my eighty-third winter."

Giving him a look of surprise, Nothaar tried to process the idea of having seen so many seasons. Based on this fact, Baubu was the oldest person Nothaar had ever met, but he never would have guessed it by how spritely the octogenarian was. Although he could easily have outpaced the far older fellow as they continued strolling, Nothaar chose to match his relatively impressive pace, becoming even more spellbound with how well Baubu continued to function.

When they reached a point where several paths intersected, Nothaar quickly chose what he instinctively felt was the correct route. "You remember the way back after only coming through here once before?" an apparently amazed and impressed Baubu asked.

"Not exactly," Nothaar admitted. "While my memory is better than average, it's just that I've developed a good sense of direction and the ability to 'read' the roads as if they were a book. It's like the footpaths have their own vernacular, and I've learned to speak it fairly fluently."

"Just as you've quickly picked up our tongue, as well," Baubu remarked. Nothaar gave Baubu a sign of appreciation at his observation, but otherwise offered no additional comment. They were quiet for a while until Baubu tried a different tact by soliciting, "So, you promised me some of the Knowledge you've accumulated during your long journey from one end of the world to the other over these past fifteen autumns. While we've talked about some generalities, I'd like you to give me some deeper Keeper-level analysis. For instance, although you've only spent a short amount of time with us, how do we compare with the other settlements? Are we very different from them?"

Nothaar gave a small chuckle before declaring, "While there are many things I would call 'unique' to your culture - just as I would say about any of the places I've been - taken altogether, I would surmise that all people are far more similar to each other than they would expect. Even things that on the surface appear to be different actually seem to have sprung from the same root."

"Please expound upon this," Baubu encouraged.

"Well," Nothaar began, "you mentioned my ability to pick up your tongue rather easily. I'll tell you, if the members of my village heard us conversing in this way, they would find the entire thing incomprehensible - and not just the esoteric topics. However, in the words you use, there are commonalities with my native language… and all the other ones I've encountered. There is no trick to being able to learn and understand these diverse ways of speaking; I have found that they all must share some type of common foundation. Long ago in the past, we most likely all expressed ourselves with the exact same terminology. Yet, over the many long seasons, as our villages have remained isolated from each other, our descriptors and pronunciations have drifted apart, thus creating numerous dialects with distinctive elements. But because the evidence points towards the existence of some progenitor language, I've been able to decipher what that might have been and use it as a basis for finding the communal facets across the majority of words spoken by all varieties of people."

"Even the Language of Children?" Baubu pressed.

Nothaar again halted their progress as he thought about how he wanted to explain this subject. Deciding that Baubu would understand what others seemed incapable of comprehending, Nothaar started moving again before he commenced enlightening, "No, not the Language of Children. It's completely different and has nothing in common with all the assorted iterations of the tongues of people. Believe me, I've been everywhere in the world - save for this possible new land of ice you've brought to my attention - and, going by how all other people speak, I do not see where it could have originated from."

"And yet, despite this lack of a 'base' from which to begin, you've been able learn it," Baubu stated as an absolute fact, not a question.

Displaying a gesticulation of disagreement, Nothaar clarified, "As best as I can, given the limited time I've spent working on it during my short stays at each of the settlements. There are things about the Language of Children that are so foreign and odd that it makes it almost impossible to understand. Even the rules for grammar - which are relatively the same throughout every other local dialect I've heard - are not shared by the Language of Children! The order for subjects, actions, and descriptors are completely different. If that were not enough, they have a myriad of words that I've been unable to translate or make any sense of. Somehow, though, they all understand each other perfectly as if these seemingly meaningless sounds are full of the most profound significance."

"Hmmm…" Baubu offered in response. "Then, this gets to the core of my inquiry. Is the Language of Children spoken here the same as the one used by the next generation everywhere upon the earth we tread?"

"I mean, I really can't say for sure…" Nothaar attempted to dismiss.

"There's no one more qualified than you to answer the question," Baubu interrupted. "I want your professional opinion based upon your experience as a talented linguist and traveler."

Pondering for a moment longer, Nothaar put to words what he'd been secretly harboring within him, the impetus that made him leave his long-forsaken homeland. "Yes. Despite how strange it sounds to our ears, it's an identical abnormality. Unlike the physical deformities they all have in one form or another - and despite the fact that those bodily changes vary wildly in their manifestations - the Language of Children is a precisely replicated affliction. It's as if they have all been… possessed… by the same verbal tic, the same words, the same grammar, the same hidden meanings and mysteries."

"I find it interesting," Baubu declared, "that you use the word 'possessed' to describe their condition. Are you a believer of the power of demons and spirits and gods, all directly impacting the world of the living?"

If it were any other Keeper, Nothaar would have probably maintained the secrecy of his sentiments, but Baubu had proven himself to be very open and nonjudgmental. "Whether demons and spirits and gods are real or not, this is not their handiwork. What is happening is some type of natural process. Although I cannot fathom what it might be, they are still children, flesh-and-blood like any other birthed preceding the Sky Shift."

"True, true," Baubu quickly agreed, "but there is something I have noted as a key difference. You may have quickly become fluent in our tongue, but our youngsters have the most difficult time learning the language of their own people. Where you are eloquent, they will stutter. Tell me, what do your private contemplations sound like? Do you ruminate in the words of your native tongue, the ones I use, or something else entirely?"

Describing his inner monologue, Nothaar elucidated, "My thoughts shift to the language I am using. There's usually a period of adjustment of several cycles of the sun and moon for it to take effect, but basically, one morning, I wake up thinking in the language of the village I'm presently inhabiting."

"I've asked the young ones the same question," Baubu explicated, "and every single one has said they only hear their own Language of Children in their souls. In order to speak to anyone born prior to the Sky Shift twenty summers past, they must literally translate everything in their mind before speaking, each-and-every time."

"I hadn't thought to ask that!" Nothaar exclaimed. "What an interesting development. But what does it mean? How's it possible?"

Giving Nothaar a look of disappointment, Baubu said, "I was hoping you'd be able to tell me that. It appears that you're just as much in the dark as the rest of us. All I know for certain is that prior to the Sky Shift, only the deaf, dumb, or deficient could not learn our tongue. Yet, since that point, everyone born in this generation struggles, including some extreme outliers. We have, unfortunately, some kids who lack the ability to speak the language of their contemporaries; yet that does not make it any easier for them to learn the words of our village. It's almost as if the Language of Children is still within them, but inaccessible in some indescribable way. Sadly, due to not having a way to tap into that strange vernacular, they are outcasts even among their own peers."

Thinking back on his experiences, Nothaar took note of how the youth were not changing in a homogenous way. Some had barely any noticeable phenotype modifications while others looked completely different but could not - as Baubu had just highlighted - speak the Language of Children as naturally or at all. Nevertheless, he anecdotally perceived that the rate of deviation was accelerating, and a higher proportion were being born that seemed to have many more of the wide array of transfigurations happening in concert.

"I could teach them," Nothaar suddenly offered, "and you as well, and anyone else who wants to learn, how to speak the Language of Children… at least, as well as I am able put the words together."

Visibly lightening up at his suggestion, Baubu avowed, "This would be a good distraction over the long winter and the nearly endless nights. Speaking of which, we should probably pick up our pace if we want to get back to the village before nightfall. That is, unless you'd like to meet the beasts that your cloak is made from. And you can trust that they will be out for bloodthirsty revenge if they catch you wearing the skin of their relatives!"

Baubu broke out in a hardy laugh at his own joke, but began to walk with a brisker step, just the same.

The above piece is an excerpt from the speculative hard science fiction novel Starbuilders by J.P. Prag, available at booksellers worldwide. Learn more about the author at www.jpprag.com.

Twenty years ago, the stars above Nothaar Akii's head suddenly changed.

Christening it the Sky Shift, Nothaar found that this event was merely the harbinger of a devastating metamorphosis that was about to befall his world. More than anything, though, it impacted the children. Newborns came out of the womb with strange physical features, far different than anything seen before. As they grew up, the youths intuitively spoke a tongue that no one else understood. After learning these conditions were not isolated to his far northern village, Nothaar set out on a long journey of discovery, taking him all the way to the southernmost tip of the land.

With his expedition seemingly completed, Nothaar decided to retrace his steps and share his discoveries with everyone he had encountered along the way. However, those plans were quickly waylaid when he chanced upon a gift that had come crashing down from the heavens. Expecting just to find a rock filled with rare and valuable resources, he instead met Syraaq Sec and Ifuwukoogeeq. The mysterious duo not only spoke the Language of Children fluently, but also possessed knowledge far beyond Nothaar's comprehension.

And then they declared Nothaar was the key to unraveling a great injustice, one that had been perpetrated upon his people and many others by the Starbuilders.

Starbuilders is a work of mixed fiction and nonfiction elements. With the fiction elements, any names, characters, places, events, and incidents that bear any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. For the nonfiction elements, no names have been changed, no characters invented, no events fabricated except for hypothetical situations.