Free The Druid Gene by Jennifer Foehner Wells Page B

dilate. Selpis leaned forward and her nostrils flared. “Oh? I do believe you are one of the ones all the rumors are about.”
    Darcy straightened a little. “Rumors?”
    The reptile tilted her head to the side and swept Darcy with an evaluating look. “Rumors of a planet without the common language. Full of individuals so unable to communicate that Hain felt it was necessary to implant a specialized language chip in their brains normally used to help those speak who suffer cognitive limitations.”
    Darcy frowned. “The hymenoptera called it a dummy chip.”
    Selpis exuded warm understanding. “But you are not a simpleton, are you, love? Your world was simply untouched by the Cunabula. How remarkable.”
    Darcy frowned. The words Selpis had just spoken echoed in her head. “Wait. There is…a common language?”
    Nembrotha harrumphed, came closer to the edge of the yellow square that separated them, and hunched up their body like an accordion. Their wavering stalks extended as far across the divide as they could reach them. They remained outstretched like that until the tips of the stalks began to quiver. Then Nembrotha slipped back in a whoosh and slumped, the stalks gone droopy. “She speaks the truth, as far as I can detect. What strange doings.”
    Selpis pulled her lips back in an approximation of a smile, and her large eyes gazed at the black ceiling. “I don’t believe I’ve ever explained this to anyone. I’ve never had a child of my own to share the wonder of the Cunabula with. Everyone just knows .”
    Darcy began to feel impatient. “Knows what?”
    The reptile’s neck elongated and her head tilted thoughtfully to the side, as though she were preparing to tell a child a story. She blinked slowly. “The Cunabula was a very powerful civilization that existed long ago, so long that very little of them remains extant, except for all of us, of course. Some have called them gods, others geniuses, others intrepid scientists. Whatever we may think they were, all we know of them exists as fragments of digital language, a few literary works, and the histories of the peoples who claimed to know them or at least know of them.”
    Nembrotha put in, “There are many, many objects attributed to them, but none of them have any provenance. Most of it’s just fripperdoodle.”
    “Fripperdoodle” didn’t fully translate for some reason, but based on context, Darcy took it to mean something along the lines of hogwash or crap or nonsense. Nembrotha was either using some kind of colloquialism or had made up a word.
    “I’ve heard this word before—Cunabula,” Darcy said slowly. “What did they do that was so important? I don’t understand.”
    Selpis nodded solemnly. “We owe them life.” She gestured grandly around the room. “They left the seeds of life on worlds throughout the galaxy, giving rise to all of us. And into each seed they programmed a genetic key that links all of us together, for better or for worse.”
    Nembrotha made a gurgling sound and drew themself up into a narrower, thinner pose. “That ‘key’ is Mensententia, the common language.”
    Selpis leaned forward, curiosity plain on her features. “It normally manifests during puberty or at some other time of great change in a youth’s life journey. But not on your world?”
    Darcy drew her brows together. “You’re saying this language isn’t learned? It’s innate?”
    “Yes.”
    “No. We have many languages. There is no common language.” Her eyes drifted around the room again, taking in the incredible diversity. “All of these people speak the same language?”
    “Yes. We are raised with a native tongue, but when we reach an age where we might travel among the stars, the common language emerges to prepare us for the journey. The Cunabula were very wise. They knew it would keep us on a more even footing, minimize catastrophic misunderstandings and wars.”
    “Too bad they didn’t eliminate greed while they were at it,”