Prelude

"Little one, you know that I will choose you to be Shaman after me tomorrow?"

The young boy trembled in pride and fear- "Yes, I know wise one" his voice shook slightly.

The old man smiled wistfully, he remembered how he felt when he was chosen by the last Shaman. No doubt his teacher had felt the same way, it had been that way forever, generation after generation.

"How will I know what to do, wise one?" the child asked in a pleading small voice.

The old man sat on the stone beside the child and looked into the twilight for a moment. "I will teach you, little one- I have chosen you because you know in your spirit what to do. I watched how you comforted your friend when his mother died from the cold last winter... your spirit is very wise.

You have watched me for many years, child, you know all that is important about what a Shaman does- tell me what you have learned?"

The child felt he was being tested, stammering he stated from memory "The Shaman lets the great spirits speak through him, he tells the people the wisdom of the sky clans and the animal spirits so they..."

The old man was laughing- "No little one, not the old tales- they bore me... remember, I told you all the old tales- What does your spirit tell you of the work of a Shaman, why is a Shaman important?"

The child was confused, but decided to answer from his spirit. "Wise one, you give hope and strength to the clan, the chief uses their hope and strength to keep us fed and warm- You create a tool of strength and hope from the clan and the chief uses it..." He trailed off seeing the old man's eyes grow sharp... The old man peered at the child for a long moment. The child held his breath worried that he had spoken wrong.

Finally the old man spoke... "I made the right choice, little wise one- you have much to learn, but you know in your spirit what is most important."

Relieved, the child smiled nervously. "I want to learn, wise one... what do I need to know?"

The old man smiled, and seemed happier than the child had ever seen him. He seemed to become younger as he plopped back on his calloused wrinkled elbows onto the rock. He HAD found the next shaman.

The old man smiled broadly and stared into the night sky. "Your first lesson is the stars, the sky clans- they are our future, little one. They will tell you much if you learn how to watch and learn from them..."

And so his first lesson began as an unusually chilly summers night fell.

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Thirty eight summers later and the child was now an old man in misery. The chief, a good man and his friend, had died the night before from the cough. The clan was heartbroken, their hope was gone. Food was getting scarcer and the chief had always been the one who knew where to go to find enough for them to get by. This winter had been brutally hard- most of the old ones had died of the cough. The clan was in pain, and had lost their hope and strength that had been skillfully used by the chief to keep them moving.

But now all their hope, strength and direction was gone. The clan sat around a large bonfire- the Shaman was the oldest one in the clan... the sun was setting and the cold was getting worse. Most of the clan were sobbing uncontrollably- The infants were crawling in the dust and chewing on stems of grass to stem their painful hunger.

The old man knew he was watching people that had lost all hope of living.

Tears filled the shaman's eyes, all he had to look forward to was watching those he loved die. It was the most painful time in the old mans life- all the clan looked to him, the Shaman, for hope. The pleading stares hurt like a blow to the stomach, he was as lost and hopeless as the rest of them. He had nothing to offer, not hope, not wisdom; he couldn’t even hunt due to his crippled leg. So on this night he mourned around the funeral fire with the clan and watched the sun set. His eyes rested on the evening star- the first star to appear at twilight. He had long been fascinated by it- it was the brightest, and it did not travel like the other lights.

The old man's thoughts returned to that night so long ago- to his first lesson.

"Wise one, you give hope and strength to the clan..."

"Your first lesson is the stars, the sky clans- they are our future, little one. They will tell you much if you learn how to watch and learn from them..."

Something took hold of his spirit, he had to give his people hope.

So the old man told a story, it started in a whisper that was drowned out by the hopeless sobbing of the clan. He told a story of the sky spirits, how almost all of them had found green fields and plentiful game and so their campfires never moved- the game came to them, they were never hungry, they didn’t have to go following the herds. They lived happily in one place, never wanting. Some of the older of the clan had stopped sobbing and listened to the wise one- wistful looks on their sunken faces as they remembered life before the land started becoming colder and colder.

Slowly the shaman's voice found more strength, more faith and the sobbing of the clan had subsided- all were looking at him- the children with wide eyes- they needed to believe.

The Shaman then pointed to the evening star and told of a Great Spirit clan that didn’t think mere paradise was enough, they were searching for even more for their children. And so they wandered this way and that looking for a more perfect life- they suffered horrible pains and battles but they were Great, and overcame them all. They went hungry and their fires would grow dimmer, but they would always brighten because they remained a strong clan. The old man saw the hope returning to the faces of those he loved as he spoke, and for the first time he felt that maybe he really had magic. He told of how the Great Spirit clan was watching over them, and when the Great Spirits found paradise so would the clan. He spoke of how there would be challenges ahead and much pain, but the clan would find a better life... green fields full of Bison, deer, and small game.

The old man stood up proudly with sudden vigor and pointed at the evening star- his voice grew loud and deep. "When you are hungry and want to take the long sleep rather than fight on, look at your children! Then think of the Great Spirit clan. When your children meet the children of the Great Spirit clan you want them to meet them with PRIDE! You want them to tell tales of the winters you fought through, the hunts you went on to save the clan!

We WILL live on those green fields with the Great Spirit clan, we WILL rest together..."

He had trailed off not knowing what more to say. He looked at them, none were sobbing now. They were looking at him in awe. The old man saw the resolve forming in their faces.

He stared intently at the clan and said in a low forceful voice "Shed your tears now, and rest- tomorrow we head north. The Great Spirits have told me that we will find a great herd in one moon, and we will have a hunt that many stories will be told about. A hunt that will make the Great Spirit clan proud of us!"

Every member of the clan hugged him that night, thanking him for sharing his ‘vision’. He had renewed hope for everyone except himself, yet he became the unquestioned chief of the clan. To the wise one's great surprise they did find a great herd, and there was a great hunt- not as great as the old man remembered from his childhood, but far better than any hunt most of the clan had seen.
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For two years they had followed him without question, through starvation and cold they always turned to him for hope, and somehow he had given it to them. But slowly food became harder and harder to find- he knew they were dying, yet the clan held onto the lie. He kept them believing with tales of the Great Spirit clan's hunts, and hard times. He always reminded his people that the Great Spirit clan was watching them.

The old man knew that the coming winter would be worse than the last. Without a truly great hunt and a sheltered place to live his people would not survive the winter. Tales told by a dying man would not save them this winter. He led then into the hills at the base of a mountain, where they found a sheltered outcrop to huddle under, but little game.

The old man knew this was where everyone he knew would die unless the spirits saved them, he had nothing more he could do to save them. He desperately wanted to die. So the old man told his people that he would go talk to the spirits. The hope and faith they gained from him nearly made him break down sobbing. Even starving they believed his stories and found strength to fight on.

So the Shaman climbed up the icy granite crags, his left leg ached unbearably his knees popped with every step. He started to curse the bear that had ripped the muscles in his calf ten summers ago- he stopped abruptly remembering his mission. Painfully, he knelt down on the rocky incline- feeling the sharp stones through the thick pelt he had wrapped around his body. Shaman asked forgiveness and cried out praises to the Bear Spirit- Praising its determination and strength; both qualities of the bear he would need if he were to be successful this night.

The summit was near but the sun was getting low, with a groan he stood and resumed his slow painful trek upwards. He needed to be as close to the campfires of the spirits as possible if they were to hear his pleas.

Finally, he stood at the top of the mountain the Shaman gave thanks to the Earth God and looked out over the land. To the northeast and southeast he could see the great water. To the west he could see the world he knew; down there nestled in the shelter of the hills was his family, and every living person he knew ten hands of friends and family that were slowly dying.

Sadness overwhelmed the old man; he looked through his tears to the west, a feeble flickering light nestled in the hills below him- his people. He could imagine their faces in the firelight, looking up at him, pleading for hope. He had to find his faith in the spirits, for his people.

As the sun slipped out of sight he watched it. As the last of it sank into the earth the old man gasped- for a brief moment there was a bright green flash and then the sun disappeared. The old man smiled- the spirits had not abandoned his people. He yelled his thanks to the sky and sat down on a rock and pulled out some dried meat and nibbled at it with his remaining teeth as he watched the sky darken.

He watched the sky as it grew dark and the spirits lit their fires- some of the spirits he knew by name and he called to them. For once half hoping for an answer. None came. He waited until all their fires were lit and then called to them again. At first he apologized for disturbing their rest, then he told of the hardships his clan had suffered, how the children were dying, how the animals were gone how he was an old man that was not going to be with his clan more than another season. How he wanted his orphaned grandchildren to live to become great hunters.

Despite his resolve the old man broke into sobs. "The spirits cant hear me- They are happy and at peace- why should they care about an old man who lies to his people?"

He felt the small spark of faith leave him and he began to sob. He decided he would not return to his clan, he would die up here- it was better than watching his people's faith in him die. Watching them die... He was just so tired.

The Shaman laid back and watched the spirit’s fires burn- he imagined the paradise they lived in. It just wasn’t fair.

The old man came to peace with the idea of death. It couldn’t be more painful than life. Then he noticed something odd- a bright star where there never was one before, he smiled dreamily- another clan had found paradise.

But as he watched it moved, racing past the other spirit clans. Getting brighter- soon it out shown even the evening star. The old man sat up with a grunt. It moved faster and faster.... then a pale blue curtain of light flashed in the sky. It started as a point of light and then expanded in a ring in the sky to the east. Suddenly a spear of fire jetted from the center of the ring towards the eastern horizon, at the same time the bright blue ring closed back down to a point and then snuffed out with a flash.

The old man watched and didn’t breathe for a few moments... after all this time the spirits had spoken to him. They had told him to head to the east- to lead his people, to live for them. Maybe his stories HAD been visions from the spirits, maybe paradise really awaited! The old man headed down the mountain as fast as his crippled leg allowed. He had been a leader of his people before but now he was their messiah. They would head to the east and indeed their grandchildren would find paradise.

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The Awakening

It was an abrupt awakening- full awakening took time, the urgency of the emergency didn’t allow for it. Generation 1123 #4 examined its logs. Last entries said a likely target for study was found and that it was diverting towards it. A calm star with planets. Two of which could support life. Then there was the report of an object on collision course; a speck of dust but enough to be a threat at this velocity. Groggily, it began emergency deceleration, but the object hit. What happened next it didn’t remember- nor did it know how much time had passed before the nanoprobes repaired its brain. It awoke as it approached a blue white planet with obvious signatures of life. Had it set course for the planet before the accident?

It was still disoriented. "What is my mission?" it queried... the response from its data banks was a painful flood of gibberish, with only a few recognizable orders... ‘explore’ ‘survive’ ‘reproduce’ ‘report’. What was lacking was the instructions on how to accomplish any of those objectives. It knew its ‘mind’ was severely damaged. Its reasoning ability seemed unaffected, but then how would it know if it was?

Quickly realizing that it could only rely on its own reasoning it quickly turned its thoughts to its first garbled instruction- Explore- explore what? The third planet had life, for some reason it felt like that made it a target to explore.

Survive, the third planet had adequate solar energy to keep it alive.

Reproduce, it couldn’t access how that was to be done, but it would take materials, most likely they would be found on the planet.
Report... how, to where? Not enough data, it had to ignore the last priority. Right now it had to survive.

It would land on the third planet. It found instructions for landing on a planet with an atmosphere, they were partially corrupted, but there was little time till entry. It would have to figure out any gaps in the procedure. The planet quickly approached.

A warning sounded as the fields that it used to collect interstellar hydrogen struck the relatively dense upper atmosphere of the planet. The atmosphere ionized as the invisible shell of the collector fields impacted it... Then the main body of Generation 1123 #4 hit the atmosphere- the heat of entry was manageable but control was difficult. Very little choice of landing point was available. In milliseconds It knew it would land in a mountainous region of the planet, it adjusted its calculations and at an altitude of 50 km it fired its braking rockets- vaporizing many square miles of forests. It managed to touch down with little additional damage to its systems.

It never noticed the old man on the far away mountain whose life and faith its arrival had saved.