The Builders' Day

The first signs of illness from the foreigners were already gone, and this happened long before the rest of my tribe felt it. My people were easy prey since most of us trusted, were enamored with finery and were easily sidetracked by new items or any pretense of elegance. In my hamlet, being the only one who could speak the Builders' language, I had a role in catalyzing what the learned termed modernity. On that day, I met the Builders at the gates of the city. In spite of the oppressive heat, one of the Builders snapped a photo of the tall natural rock formation that served as a marker and general viewing point. Except for the fact that, according to one of the Builders, the typical karst formation revealed how the area used to be an ocean floor I said, "That's fascinating." As if you didn't know what I was talking about? It was amazing to me how that might be deduced from a rock formation. Their commander began by introducing himself by stating his name. He referred to himself as a doctor, but not the sort who heals. His teeth were unusually straight and white. When he smiled, he appeared sincere. He also extended his hand to me, which I found strange. I had not washed my hands and there was embedded dirt under my fingernails, but his hands were clean and perfectly trimmed. When I clasped his offering hand, he did not recoil. Perhaps he had the fortitude to avoid cringing. I took the Builders on a tour of the village. Near the lake, they oohed and ahhed over the fossilized tree trunks. They aahed in awe as they gazed at the years of weathering's obvious stratified strata of rock and dirt. The Builders, on the other hand, appeared to me and the elders to be unexpectedly relaxed, as though they knew their way about the community. When I led them to the Pit of Hell, a natural opening in the rocky village's gateway to the underworld, they weren't surprised, or even feigned to be surprised. With no emotion, the doctor who claimed to be the sort who could not heal replied, "That's natural gas." It must have ignited at some time, he explained stolidly, in the face of such a flaming show and overpowering scent of decay. The fires never went out since the area is so rich in natural gas. Sulfur is responsible for the terrible stench you're smelling. Over here, a middle-aged man with glasses screamed, "Devonian shale." I didn't realize the significance of his discovery until much later. Another murmured, "You won't believe what I found alone at the gates." I could hear him clearly because he was so close. This is an entire and well-preserved Dickinsonia costata. Because they believe the markings had either supernatural or magical origins, they must have thought to protect it from the elements. I believe it should be superglued in place and the rest should be foam-wrapped to prevent harm. What do you think of this, Greg?, another Builder asked his colleague. Is it possible that it is a fern that has been fossilized? I don't believe so. To me, that seems like a good old dendritic. Do you notice the rock's fissures? However, just to be sure, take some samples. I was awestruck by their beautifully maintained nails, their short hair, and their clean-cut clothes. I was used to looking unkempt, and it didn't matter if I was wearing ill-fitting clothes or hadn't brushed my hair. I felt ashamed when I saw the woman carrying technological equipment. I was disgusted. In retrospect, I can say with my life that they arrived in peace, with their correct manners and acquaintance with our ways. In the absence of our knowledge, they must have scouted us. That would be misinterpreted as a sign of aggression if they looked us straight in the eyes. We wouldn't have taken it as a sort of ridicule if they had walked ahead of us. Even though they wanted something from us, I could tell that they were looking at the environment with a critical eye while deciding where to begin their construction, and that they might be able to give us something in return, perhaps a better understanding of our natural world through their educated eyes. I figured it would be beneficial to my people. As a result, I persuaded everyone that they should be allowed to remain. Even if I could smell the disease emanating from their sweat, they should be allowed to stay. The stink of disease from outsiders was apparent, to say the least. They showed me their strange-looking tripods and explained that they were going to use them to survey the area. They also carried metal detectors that whirred in the wind. Two of them began the process of laying down what I recognized as movable tent struts made of titanium. They then went on to describe what they could do to help the community. According to the Doctor, we will construct a hospital and a school. Highways to get you to civilisation. You might also establish a tourism base. You could do whatever you want with tourists, whether it's selling stuff or performing magic acts for them. We'd develop factories to make it easier for you to produce more items in less time. Then, instead of relying on dangerous and exposed well water, you can use pumps to siphon subsurface water. Then there's the plumbing. Next came the tributaries of the dams A chemical facility might also be built in the plains east of the canyons. The lavender fields will be in front of the chemical factory. That component of the project will be overseen by our well-trained plant operators. The doctor, who does not claim to be a healer, went on and on. I was persuaded. I imagined how the fields and valleys we tilled for crops would teem in the Builders' hands as I stared out at them. Summer's harsh creatures sat in the shade of the trees, their horns glistening in the fading afternoon light. The woodland loomed in the distance. I figured that all of this will soon change. I saw rain against the macadam in my mind's eye. My people's feet were no longer barefoot and unclean on the earth. There would be no such thing as "out there" in the near future. I told the village elders that if we allowed the Builders to touch us, all we believed in, everything we were, would be destroyed. In black and white, I explained the repercussions to them. Without me having to explain it to them, I knew they understood. They scented the outsiders' lingering illness, smelled the strangers' breath, and glimpsed their shapely hands — the kind of hands that might destroy as well as create. The elders had debated ferociously, which surprised me. In some cases, they argued that the Builders should stay in our village and perform what they came here to do. Perhaps the elders believed it was entirely up to them to determine whether or not to welcome the strangers into their homes. Perhaps it was their need to retain some control that prompted them to discuss things as if they still had a say in the matter. Even if we wanted to, I didn't believe we could force the Builders to go. If we tried to violently push them away, the Builders had ways and possessions they might use to defend themselves. As a result, the Builders decided to stay. The majority of the terms were reasonable and made clear to us. The fact that we couldn't get them to go, politely or otherwise, was something that went unspoken that night.