The boat glided through the misty silence; darkness fading slowly in the morning twilight.
"Here," Amy told Maru, the old boatwoman steering the canoe. "Right on the shore."
Maru shook her head a little and muttered something about "spirits" under her breath but steered her boat towards the shore nevertheless.
It had been difficult finding someone in town willing to ferry her across the Karuna river, especially at this early hour, which locals believed to be auspicious. It was the only time that the tide pushed the water upstream, giving access to that area via canoe. The Karuna people, named after the river, had certain superstitious beliefs about the otherlands, believing them to be a place of magic where spirits dwelt, good and evil, so they avoided it altogether. Anyone seen ferrying passengers to the otherlands could well lose their reputation or worse. Thankfully, Maru was a brave and pragmatic woman who understood the value of Amy's research and was appreciative of the generous recompense she offered.
In the darkness, Amy could hear the strange sounds of the forest, its mournful cries and sighs in the stillness.
It was foolishness, Amy knew, but she was desperate. After two years conducting field research on the religious myths and practices of the Saturnians, she was preparing for the long journey back to Earth. She had mountains of data to sift through, analyze, and process into cohesive narratives detailing the cosmological structure of the inhabitants. However, something didn't feel right. Everything- the stories, language, procedures, and so on- fit so nicely together in the theoretical metaphysical framework that emerged from the data. But there were missing elements. Where were the shamans and witches? The mystics? Societies usually have their outcast religious practitioners who work magic outside the bounds of orthodoxy. The Saturnians seemed to have none. In town, people were eager to talk about their spiritual beliefs and practices, but whenever the subject of shamans or mystics was broached, they just stopped talking, usually with a shake of their head. In other words, as anthropologists of old would've said, the subject was taboo. Why were they so secretive about it? Amy felt her research was incomplete, and with only a few days left in the colony, she was eager to pursue the truth.
Having heard rumors of shamanic practitioners inhabiting an area upstream, she decided to make the trip there. It was a dangerous adventure, but she just had to know.
"Thank you so much, Maru," she said to the old Saturnian woman. Amy knew that the locals believed the twilight hour was particularly dangerous, as far as spirits went, given they could more easily travel between planes. The twilight was the tear between worlds. So, Amy knew it took a lot of courage on the part of the boatwoman to agree to guide her on this journey.
"Is earth lady sure she wants this?" Maru said in her deep raspy voice. "Perhaps some secrets should remain so."
"I understand your concern, Maru. But I've come so far in my work, learned so much from your people, I couldn't leave without being as thorough as I possibly can. It is a part of me, and the world I inhabit- a world of facts, analysis, and open knowledge."
The old woman grunted as if dissatisfied with the answer but gently brought the canoe ashore.
Amy took off her bracelet and handed it to Maru.
"A gift for your daughter," Amy told her. "I'll return in thirty cycles."
The forest was still draped in shadows, so Amy wore a headlamp as she followed a path through the tall grasses and the reeds, carefully watching her steps lest some snake lay hidden in the tangled grass.
After a few minutes of hiking, she found herself in a bamboo grove. She looked up at the towering bamboo stalks that rose as far as the eye could see. Their leaves rustling contentedly in the breeze.
As she trekked further along the path, she heard the sound of flowing water again, and through the thin morning mist, she saw a figure sitting cross-legged on the river's edge.
"Hullooo!" she called out, trying to make herself heard above the murmuring stream.
The figure remained unmoved, facing the river.
Amy walked closer, calling out as she did so, but still the figure seemed to have ears only for the sound of the river.
Coming up behind him, she said, "hi, my name is Amy."
"Turn off your light, Amy," the figure said.
She quickly reached up and did as he requested, but not before managing to catch a glimpse of his body, which was covered in wires, electronics, and synthetic skin.
"I'm Dr. Amy Fuller from the Institute of Saturnian Cultural Studies, Earthside. I've been living in town for over a year conducting field studies on the sacred beliefs and practices of-"
He began to laugh.
"What's so funny?" Amy said, a bit more harshly than she intended. She was frightened as it was, and now this old cyborg was laughing at her life's work.
"Did they tell you the one about the Serpent?" the man said in rusty but perfect English, his voice metallic and hoarse with disuse.
"The Serpent of the Spheres? Of course, it's a beloved tale."
He chuckled again. "What about the one about the Plump Mango of Sin and Desires?"
"What is this about?" Amy asked him a little more boldly. "Are you not a medicine man yourself? A religious mystic seeking self knowledge and cosmic truth?"
He threw his head back and laughed even harder, the sound echoing across the flowing water.
"All stories and spiritual practices have a beginning, do they not?" The cyborg said once he had regained his composure. "If the myths and practices of the Karuna people were a stream, I would be its mouth."
It was Amy's turn to remain silent. Or rather speechless. She looked at the cross-legged figure in disbelief. Was he telling the truth? Was all the ethnographic data in her files, years worth of research, just made up stories by some old cyborg?"
"Like you," he said, "I used to study religious practices. Us settlers believed that the work was essential for building a new civilization. People don't just throw themselves in the expanse of space without a motive and reason. Sure, initially we believed in the beauty of exploration for its own sake. Science and technology reigned supreme. But as the inhabitants became more hostile to the use of technology, which they blamed for their exile to begin with, they returned to the old ways. Some of us enhanced beings realized that a new myth, a new religion was needed to center their psychic energies. So, I was tasked with creating said myth."
"I don't believe you," said Amy taking a step towards him. "That means you're over three hundred years of age."
"And I have many hundreds more to go before I sleep," he said.
"You are lying to me. A single man did not come up with all that."
He spread his arms. "As you can see, I'm not just a single man."
He folded his arms again with the palms on his lap, then facing the river, he closed his eyes.
"You will receive all the data files when you arrive home. I would have given them to you earlier, but you never came up to ask me."
Then he spoke no more.
Amy felt lightheaded. She turned and ran away from there, stumbling through weeds and brambles until she finally reached the spot where Maru waited in the canoe.
For two years, Amy had conducted her field research on this Saturnian colony. She had developed novel methods of data gathering, analysis, and processing without disturbing the cultural matrix. It was breakthrough work as far as post-terrestrial ethnography was concerned. Now her neat work had been thrown into disarray because of that mischievous creature.
"Did earth lady find what she was looking for?" Maru said when Amy climbed aboard the canoe.
"Yes," Amy said. "I just found some funny old man."
She was relieved to see Maru. Not only because she was Amy's way back to town, but because she was human. Cyborg consciousness was alien to Amy. Not that she was neuro-phobic, but humans she could understand. Their joys and sorrows. Hates and desires. Hopes. Worries.
Transhumans were another matter. Their human primate intelligence mixed with the cold logic of cybernetic circuits was virtually ungraspable.
She could still hear the cyborg's laughter echoing in her ears.
"The serpent rises with her rings," Maru said looking at Saturn's rings on the horizon.
"It's beautiful," said Amy, remembering the old legend, which in light of the new revelations, had a whole new dimension of meaning.
As the boat glided downstream with the ebbing tide, Amy looked back and saw the glow of the sky reflected on the water. The play of shadows in the light along the river flow. She wondered how much longer the cyborg would sit there pondering by the river's edge. Days, months, years... His conception of time and space were incomprehensible to her. What was his aim? His bionic art and science?
She reached over the edge of the canoe with the oar and touched the water, leaving gentle ripples in its wake.
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