Chapter 5
The following Announcement is intended for
THE SCHOLARS OF CLASSIFICATION IN THE SCHOOL OF OBSERVATION, BOUNDLESS CAMPUS
on behalf of HON. CHANCELLOR ORELITH RAWSEL
on this EIGHTH DAY OF THE FIRST SUPERLATIVE TIDE
IN THE SECOND QUARTER OF HIGH WATERS, 1002
Colleagues,
It has come to my attention that an anonymous individual recently wrote to the Campus Mediators to protest the “pressure” allegedly placed upon Scholars in this Department of late.
Let me be perfectly clear. Anyone who cannot handle the intensity of our research responsibilities ought to consider finding another profession. And anyone cowardly enough to sneak away and converse with the Mediators in secret about some perceived offence surely does not respect the values of openness, honesty, and dignity that define the Boundless Campus.
Chancellor Rawsel
I once promised myself that I would never write down or otherwise document my darkest days (perhaps because I thought that letting them slip out of my mind with the passage of time would spare me from ever experiencing the pain they caused again). So I will not sully this page with descriptions of what transpired in the Department lately, but I know that if I do not create any evidence of the vile behaviour of those who are supposed to be our leaders, I will wake up tomorrow morning convincing myself that I must “do better” and “prove myself” and “reaffirm my commitment to the Scholars of Classification”.
A reminder to the future Henerey who makes these promises to himself:
You (by which I mean I) deserve better.
Dear Schr Clel,
Just as you did, I shall begin by apologising for the time it took me to turn to your letter – isn’t it marvellous how much we have in common?
Composing a suitable response to you has been a challenging ordeal, I admit. I say this neither in mock exaggeration to earn your sympathy nor to deter you from sending another letter, but rather because I believe that honesty and openness can go a long way in improving the quality of a conversation.
So let me begin with honesty, then. I felt so flattered that Scholar Henerey Clel, Natural Historian of Great Import, introduced himself to me so kindly. Then I realised that I never properly introduced myself to you, outside of my signature (and that was miracle enough, as I do so frequently forget to sign my own letters). Let me reveal myself formally, then, in all my questionable glory – I am E. (only E., if you please – as I mentioned previously, my full name is quite unfortunate) Cidnosin, and most definitively not a Scholar, despite your kindness to the contrary. I reside within the house of your dreams while living out an existence that is more inescapably mundane, I’m sorry to say, than you could possibly imagine. For example, while you might cite the demands of your Department as an excuse for not writing, I may only say – truthfully – that I was – what? Watching bubbles accumulate outside the airlock door? Checking for leaks everywhere, even in places I’ve checked already? Waiting for a letter from my sister to arrive, though I know she is preoccupied with exploring a place that few will ever visit in their lifetimes and therefore has but precious little time for correspondence?
Such is my existence at the Deep House. Yes, it does sometimes seem a desecration of my mother’s memory that I neglect its wonders so. But your eagerness to hear about my family home tempts me to see it with new eyes. I do feel too shy about my prose to craft an extensive Deep House history unprompted, but if you happen to have any specific questions about my experience, I hope you will ask, and I shall answer as best I can.
The fact that the circumstances of my childhood allegedly “dazzle” you boggles my mind, because as far as I am concerned, nothing in my life could ever compare with your countless adventures. How I yearn to spend as much time with marine life as you do! As you Classify the world around us, you survey rare species in the wild and mourn carcasses swept up on the shores – so I presume from reading your books multiple times and with great enthusiasm (because that assumption about me was most certainly correct) – while I, on the other hand, encounter sea creatures by sheer coincidence through stray glances out the window. I fear that I practise Classification only by virtue of birth and happy accident. As children, my siblings and I felt as comfortable in the sea as we did our own bedrooms. Father nurtured a vast garden outside the watertight confines of our house, where he attempted to cultivate by artificial selection hardier variants of food-grade kelp and seaweed for his culinary exploits. We would don our helmets and slip into the depths with an easy carelessness. One of my fondest memories involves the singular sensation of sitting cross-legged among the coral (not upon it, of course – please don’t think that I have such little regard for the reef ecosystem!) and gazing up at the swirling schools as they flashed above me – experiencing a feeling of incredible quietude that I miss enormously.
Looking over what I just wrote, I feel quite embarrassed at how maudlin I’ve waxed. I sound a bit like a pompous coursebook for Apprentice Scholars – or like Schr Vincenebras from my sister’s expedition – but you must understand that I have very little experience speaking with anyone who does not already live underwater and, by this point in the evening, my words often refuse to obey me. I hope you will forgive my boldness, irreverence, and extravagant run-on sentences. Please do not feel obligated to respond, as I’m sure your own occupations and colleagues keep you quite busy. I assure you that I will take no offence. You have been generous enough with your time!
Most sincerely,
E.
P.S. If your path happens to cross with my brother’s, would you please give him my best regards and sincerest wishes for his continued health, since he refuses to contact me?
Dear Vyerin,
I am awash with emotions – delight, sorrow, and a small degree of guilt – as I read these words from my sister. But the foremost among them is amazement! You would never believe it from this letter to Henerey, but E. was always reticent with strangers – yet she speaks to him of her feelings and our childhood as though he was already an old friend. It dazzles me!
And I also ache for this honest, caring, and vulnerable Henerey of the past, as seen through his daybook. I wish I could have been an ally to him.
I do not know specifically what transpired in his case, but I am familiar with the unchecked power of the Chancellors at Boundless Campus. Far too many of them thrive on control, consider themselves the sole authorities in their fields, and believe that they must denigrate, ridicule, and dismiss those they mentor – if only because the same happened to them when they were but young Scholars. Friends of mine still employed as Scholars at present claim that the situation has improved of late, but I am not hopeful that any policy change or Restructuring of Academy Values can completely eradicate the problem, so long as Boundless culture remains so hierarchical – which is its defining characteristic, of course!
Also, it bears noting that Chancellor Orelith Rawsel in particular is an absolute nightmare, and every day I rage to think that he retains his position. But that is a tale for another time.
I do not know if you felt compelled to investigate me when our correspondence began, but I shall share with you a little bit about my life now. When my wife and I resigned from our respective Campuses, it became Niea’s dream to found an independent Institution of Knowledge. (Shocking, I know!) Alas, because I spent much of the last year lost in grief, I could not help her much with this project, but she did it all – she never fails to astonish me – and the Institution will accept its first pupils next year, once we have time to assemble a faculty. She even calls it “The Sunken School”, in tribute to the Deep House. The model is designed to be the opposite of Boundless Campus, with all instructors respected as experts in their own subjects, regardless of their tenure. No scholastic system can be perfect, but one equipped with the self-awareness and humility necessary to keep on improving may stand a chance of getting awfully close.
I wish we could count Henerey among our colleagues at the Sunken School. He would thrive with us, and us with him.
Sophy
Most-missed E.—
You have my sincerest apology for the abbreviated nature of this note. (But you included a similar disclaimer at the beginning of your letter, so I suppose it is no issue!)
I digress out of restless excitement (and the smallest amount of anxiety). The day has come – we shall make our first dives into the deepest ocean! A mail-boat crammed with a wardrobe’s worth of long-distance diving suits arrived this afternoon. We had basic suits already, of course, but these new ones have so much life-sustaining equipment attached to them that they are almost like form-fitting depth-crafts. And they were therefore too heavy to carry with us in our initial descent! Initially, I felt rather disappointed when the shipment docked, as I had been in the midst of an enjoyable off-hours painting lesson with Eliniea (her skills are truly remarkable, and you know I need the help!) that I did not wish to conclude, but I could not be more delighted to finally begin what I came here to accomplish.
Certainly you will fret about my safety, but I assure you that the entire operation will be carried out with superlative efficiency and care. We shall venture forth for no more than two hours each day to start, leaving at least one crew member inside the station to communicate with the Chancellors in the event of an emergency (the lot fell to Schr Tamseln this time). Strong backup tethers will attach us to the Spheres if we need them, and we have each been assigned one of the cetacean automata as a companion. I have not had the opportunity to interact with our automated guardians since we arrived – other than spotting, on occasion, the metallic glint of their dorsal fins as they patrol outside of the station – and I am most curious!
My duties call, and my time to write leisurely runs short. In the meantime, please take care of yourself – and I hope you will soon receive a most delightful letter from your new pen-friend Schr Clel! Incidentally, I thought more carefully about my encounters with him on campus, and here is what I can recall:
1. Two years ago: I met Scholar Clel during a mandatory “socialisation” (that is the word you might use for it – they would have called it a “party”) for Young Scholars. We were required to dance with and introduce ourselves to a new partner every five minutes (with time kept scrupulously by a self-important Chancellor), and Scholar Clel was my fifth. His hands shook but his smile was kind.
2. A year and a half ago: we happened to present at a symposium during the same scheduling period! (Thus no one who attended my lecture could attend his, and vice versa – apologies if this is patronising or over-explaining, E., I just never remember how much you know about the foibles of the School of Observation!) Under usual circumstances, two rival presenters might compete mercilessly for the largest audience, but Scholar Clel simply wished me the best.
3. A season ago, in the library, after staying awake all night finishing a draft: I believe I overheard several Apprentice Scholars in the carrel behind me (which was not intended for group study, I assure you) discussing quite improperly which up-and-coming Scholars from across the Campuses were most attractive (in terms of personality, erudition, and academic potential, of course, and not physical appearance or sensuality, since I know those matter little to you!). Scholar Clel’s name was mentioned with great enthusiasm.
I must away, unfortunately—
Sophy
P.S. And please do not patronise me about my tendency towards love at first sight, sister! I simply cannot help myself!
Dear Sophy,
By the time you read this, you will be well acquainted with the infinite ocean outside the Spheres. I accept that, functionally, you remain equally underwater (and, therefore, at risk of hypothetical danger) whether you are safely ensconced in your bunk with my letters or making topographical observations while protected only by a diving suit and a tether that keeps you from drifting endlessly through the abyss… perhaps I should discontinue the progression of this thought before it escalates any further.
I almost dare not write the sentence that follows, as I fear that by the time you read this, the situation will have altered substantially, proving my current optimism foolish. Yet that is a risk I have no choice but to take. For once, I have remarkable news of my own to share.
After so many failures, I finally penned a reply to Scholar Clel’s letter!
All right, I shall speak of it no more!
Except to say that I will also ignore your feeble attempt at injecting your letter with praise for him. Though I do agree that he is a truly remarkable man – with whom I would only ever hope to develop a professional friendship!
Your scattered sister,
E.
V.,
I hate to be a bother, but I wanted to check that you were all right – I am so used to your near-instantaneous replies! (Perhaps my prior missive did not go through?) Let me know if there is anything with which I can assist you, even from afar.
S.
Dear S.,
My apologies for taking so long to respond to your latest communications; it has been quite a tide for me. Since you have shown me that it is acceptable to discuss our personal lives in these letters, I will furnish a brief explanation. Avanne had grown quite fond of one of her fellow classmates. (All very innocently and sweetly, of course – she is only twelve!) Said “courtship” has now reached an untimely end without mutual accord. This being our daughter’s first experience with such romantic despair, Reiv and I have busied ourselves with providing her ceaseless access to those essential cures for heartbreak. Emotional support. Helpful advice. Heaps of seabed clay with which she may attempt to sculpt her feelings (Art being her preferred mechanism for “processing” – she is her Intertidal father’s daughter through and through).
Word of your burgeoning school reached us out here in the Atoll. In fact, I remember reading about it in a journal even before you wrote to me. Seeing your name brought up all sorts of unfortunate memories, though, so I did not keep up with the press. Pity, really. It sounds like you and your wife will accomplish much together. Henerey would have loved it. I am sure most people ill used by their Schools would. But especially my brother.
V.
P.S. I can assure you that what E. wrote about her childhood memory in the garden captured Henerey’s heart in an instant. He likely read that passage out loud to himself. That was his way of “preserving” words that moved him. Do you share this memory with your sister?
Dear Vyerin,
Please send my kindest and most uplifting sympathies to Avanne! (And to her fathers, who have been so diligent in her care!) At fifteen, I fell deeply in love with a friend, who promptly rejected me, and I was equally miserable. At the time, adults told me that it would pass, but it felt like death. Then it did pass, and I wish I had believed them. Such is youth!
S.
P.S. Achieving “quietude” was never among my priorities as a child! While E. spent her youthful days observing the sea’s majesty, I imagine that I was out pushing my luck by the drop-off: defying my parents’ concern for my safety in the hopes of surveying the local topography!
S.,
O, yes, I know the sting of young love myself. For me, it was a girl I met in my first Apprenticeship year. We lost touch when I left the Academy and she stayed on. For the better, I think. We would have made a terrible pair – both with hearts full of sleeping fury that awoke at the slightest provocation. We fought constantly. (Every night now, as I fall asleep in Reiv’s arms, I thank whatever strange stroke of luck brought a firebrand like me to the most level-headed, peaceful, and empathetic man in the known world.)
Vyerin
Dear Vyerin,
What have I done to deserve this emotional honesty? I feel quite flattered that you trust me enough to share a personal anecdote.
In the spirit of shared intimacy (since I am sure you might be surprised to find that we have much more in common than the loss of our siblings):
What you said about your relationship with Reiv (and its comparison to the relationship that preceded it) could not better reflect my own experiences. I won’t bore you with further insipid details about “my first love”, but let it be known that were it not for the fact that her interests lay elsewhere, we would have also made a poor match in temperament.
My wife, on the other hand, is collected where I am anxious, fluid where I am obstinate, and sceptical where I am gullible. She has taught me – without even realising it! – how I might think more carefully, act more thoughtfully, and love more deeply. Perhaps I should thank her for giving me the mental tools necessary to survive the past year.
I hope you will continue to feel comfortable telling me whatever you like in the future. I truly welcome, enjoy, and learn from every letter you send me. And since you have been so generous, it is my turn to send you a parcel once again! (Keep an eye out for that.)
(Also, please do assure Avanne that she will find happiness one day too! But she might have to make a museum’s worth of sculptures first.)
Sophy
P.S. Pardon my boldness, but I would not describe you at present as having a heart full of sleeping fury that wakes at the slightest provocation! (Or will this postscript be just the provocation you need to prove me wrong?)
Dear Sophy,
Eloquent as always. I agree with all your closing points.
Perhaps my fury’s all spent now – I must have burned through a lifetime’s worth during the time after Henerey disappeared. Or perhaps it’s what fuels me to keep living.
Just between you and me, I have not had much in the way of friendship (outside of Reiv, who is both Eternal Friend and Lover all at once) in many years. Being open with you is unexpectedly pleasant.
Though from one friend to another, I do feel that it’s only fair that YOU share FURTHER “insipid details” of your ill-formed affections. Merely a suggestion. Solely for the purpose of providing additional context to your narrative, of course. For the sake of posterity.
Fondly,
Vyerin
For the sake of posterity, I shall consider it.
Also: I hope you will henceforth consider it our narrative.
S.