Chapter One
We're not against you, we're for. In fact we're built for you and you for us -- we, so our weak little legs will dangle on your chest and our tail down the back. Exactly as you so often transport your own young when they are weak and small. It's a joy. Just like a mother-walk.
You'll be free. You'll have a pillow. You'll have a water faucet and a bookcase. We'll pat you if you do things fast enough and don't play hard to catch. We'll rub your legs and soak your feet. Sams and Sues, and you Sams had better behave yourselves.
You still call us aliens in spite of the fact that we've been on your world for generations. And why call aliens exactly those who've brought health and happiness to you? And look how well we fit, you and us. As if born for each other even though we come from different worlds.
We mate the stocky with the stocky, the thin with the thin, the pygmy with the pygmy. You've done a fairly good job with that yourselves before we came. As to skin, we like a color a little on the reddish side. Freckles are third best.
Your type is called a Seattle. I hope to find other Seattles to mate with you, and soon.
Your young will stay with their mothers until weaning. We'll stroke them all over to make them love us. Four months is the crucial time for imprinting you predators. And your young do love us. You all do. We're the ones with the treats. Leather straps will help keep you in line and help us keep our seat. There will sometimes be prickers on our toes. How and if these are used, and when, depends, of course, on you.
You are the recipient of our kindness, our wealth and knowledge, our intelligence, our good growth of greens. Without us you'd not exist. Remember that. Though it's true a few of you still survive in the mountains. We care nothing for mountains. What can you grow in the mountains that's not better grown in the valleys? Or build?
There is no need for you, or any of you, to learn how to count. And why read? We like you well-muscled. Reading is not conducive to muscles. We prefer that you hook yourself to the go-round instead.
My offspring will be pleased with you. They already know good lines: Slope of shoulders, rise of chest, slim waist, more so in your females. And, and most important, sturdy legs. Legs are what we're taught to notice first. Hands last. Compared to ours, your hands are so small and weak. Then there's the look in the eye. You should have a kind eye. Many things depend on such knowledge, or else there would be more danger than there already always is.
Our young adore you. They even adore your straps and buckles. They keep your pictures above where they curl up. They hang your worn-out shoes over their doorways. They save apples for you that they feed you piece-by-piece -- and strawberries and chocolate.
As we go along on your shoulders, head to head (so sweetly!), cheek to cheek, our sun hats cover you also, and our rain hats. Some of us whisper our most secret secrets into your ear as we go.
Though I have prods and poles, I believe in explaining. Even to you, though you are as children. I believe it is safer that you understand -- at least in part. You will never fully understand, but you must trust us, that we always have our reasons.
So I speak. "Tomorrow I will attach you to a circling line. You will be strapped up for the journey after the friskiness is taken out of you." We prefer that there be no fight left and no ideas.
There are reasons for all this -- all this from the start, I mean, and how we came to be on top. First, of course, there's the fact that we're superior in every way. You should be happy to serve such as we. And we can tell if you're not. We have studied diagrams of your facial expressions. We can read your forehead and your lips, the wrinkles at the outsides of your eyes. Do not squint. It is unsightly.
You have a good life here. And, and most important, you are free -- free in your stalls for a part of every day. You may rest and recuperate. If you have a book, and know how, you can read.
This is a case of prey over predator. You must admit, it's only fair. Since we are prey, we can see, as you might put it, around corners, though that is not true. We simply see behind as well as in front. We know when a bug moves in a bush.
Now is the time for the willingness that is in you, since you are bred for it. We count on you for crossing whatever needs to be crossed without hesitation. Try to look good as you do it. Sweep ahead and don't glance to the side. It's our job to do the seeing. If danger lurks, we will let you know when to beware -- when to jump back -- when to turn around and run. Our senses are keener and we judge better than you can. A little tickle on the ear...you could decide on that as the signal. The choice is yours, of course. You are free. After our trip we'll give you a good rubdown and lots of pats. (We like strokes -- it reminds us of the lickings of our ancestors -- but you like pats, so thinking only of you, we'll pat.)
And so we will enter the forest. Those of your kind who might be hiding there are few and should not be a trouble.
Already my heart is with your heart. We are two of one single kind, companions about to take a companionable outing. Surely as much fun for you as for me.
The meaning of life, yes, yes, and of butterflies. You would say they are two separate questions. We say they're the same one.
"Wake up. It's time. Kneel. This sack isn't heavy. You'll hardly notice it. Turn to your near side so I may mount. Near, I say. Near, near, near!"
Enter the forest. Appreciate the trees. Sure-footed friend. The ground is rough. My balance will help to hold you steady. When have I ever fallen, even when mounted on the very young? And here you are at the peak of your strength.
Oh, a day like this! One mountain would be enough, yet here are many. A dozen flowers, a dozen butterflies are all I would ask for, yet here are many dozens. And you, swinging along so lively, as if as new as the day.
Trust me, that I will lead us to a happy meadow where there will be a stream. Then I will give you a treat. "Have you your comb? My kind sees all sides and could be anywhere. I want you to look good."
The social consequences of the journey must be taken into consideration. There is the mess that may inadvertently be made, if, that is, we encounter any of them -- your sort. Should we see any, we will be obligated to round them up and bring them in, out of kindness and for their own safety. (That's the reason for this pole.) The forest is cruel and dangerous, and there are no medical services available. It's a wonder you survive there, those few of you that do. I've heard you eat acorns and the roots of Solomon Seal.
So, "Go, go, go!"
We go.
Trot and again trot, and I, by the motion of the stepping...I, as if having jumped back into the womb as I used to love to do. In those days any womb would do. Lulled, therefore, into a half-sleep -- a half-dream -- of mothers. We follow a paved way towards a mountain, though we'll turn before we get there.
Pat your shoulder. "Good boy." Praise is better than punishment.
"Don't be afraid of the river. I know this river. One such as you can cross it easily. You're a heavy and a tall. That's why I chose you. Your head will be above it. See if it isn't. Even my toes will stay dry. See if they aren't.
"Cross the river, shake out. Comb your hair. Isn't that refreshing?"
"Go, go, go along and go along. Knees high. Head up. Points off for slouching. I have a thought to feature you." I would be much admired if you were high-stepping and had your hair slicked up and out. "Up and out, chest also. Chin in."
The morning is so sweet I will sing of it and of love. "La, la, la, love. Lee, la, love." And of you, my sturdy. We haven't been together long, but you will know how I love you already.
Keep on. The work of the world is always done by creatures too tired to do it.
"Jump that log." I will lean forward to help. "Lovely, lovely." (Pat, pat, pat.) All so far, and the world, and the ways of it. "Be happy."
Hear. Our ears are better. See, smell. Ours are better. How could we not have come to be your masters? Let us show you the way. From sun to shade to sun again, to shade. They say you cannot even smell the sun.
"Go," I say out loud. "And go," I say.
Here the remains of a primitive fire. I pull you to the side around it. I cover your eyes. "Go, my steady. Go, go. Well done." (Pat, pat, pat.) "We'll not rest until another length or so."
That way you'll be too tired to notice if another primitive fire spot turns up.
And it does. And another. I cover your eyes each time. Perhaps we've lost our way. I drop my hands from your eyes as if scales after moltings. I let my hands hover around your throat. It's as a warning. "Peace," I say. "We have always been peaceful creatures, as you well know. And you also, peaceful creatures, too."
Down a steep bank, you, slipping and sliding. I don't want any mud on me or my whites. I pull, this side and that. You throw your head as if to escape my pulling. You grunt. Thank goodness you have been well-trained in not making inappropriate noises.
"Good job. Did you hurt yourself?"
You know better than to answer.
I have two spots of mud. Best be uncomplaining. That's always peaceable.
A stream. And another. A place where it's hard to push through the brush. I wish I'd thought of your leggings. I don't want unsightly scratches on your legs.
Perhaps we really are lost. I have my fix-upon and here is a good place to separate myself from you.
"Kneel. Near side. Near! Near! Are you listening, or don't you yet know your near from your far? Hush. You know better than to answer. Some of you never seem to be able to learn near from far. Why is that? Hush. You know better than to speak."
This is a good time for a treat. One bite. You don't smell well enough to know I have lots more.
"You may squat."
"Here is a sip and a bite."
I love to watch your muscles. I love to see you move with the spots of sun shining down.
But I'm tired, I will mount again and rest on your warmth. Let me look at you first...again and yet again. The shine of you with sweat! What a magnificent creature!
"Near. Near!" And, "Go, go, go. My steady. Hurry."
But what can you know of time, poor, dear creature? Though many's the time I wish I had your notion of it.