Free Take Us to Your Chief by Drew Hayden Taylor Page A

online. Well, she had her challenge for th e day.
    By the time she left the office, Chambers was fairly confident she had located and downloaded to the SDDPP a solid crosscut of Native culture and history, past, present and possibly future. This was a field of research she had definitely not expected to investigate when she began this project. Still, it should give the AI something to chew on for the night. She was shutting off the lights and putting her coat on when she heard the familiar ping alerting her that the SDDPP had sent her a message.
    â€œ
S
o sad. ”
    â€œWhat is s o sad?”
    There was no response. She waited, coat unbuttoned and purse over her shoulder, for it to answer her question. After six long minutes, still nothing. “Again, why did you say ‘So sad’? I complied with you r request.”
    â€œ
So sad,
”
it sai d again.
    Chambers was beginning to get a bad feeling. Sadness, in any form and for anybody, is not usually a constructive emotion. Especially in something not used t o emotions.
    â€œPlease advise why you ar e sad.”
    Once more, the response was several minutes in coming. “
The information… Native people… so sad. Why
?
”
    Chambers was trying to figure out what exactly was so sad. Was it the AI itself that was sad, or was it what happened to Native people? “Pleas e explain.”
    There was almost a lethargic pace to the cursor as it relayed the AI ’s response. “
Within the first hundred years o
f
contact, approximately
90
percent died from the effects o
f
sickness, slavery, conquest. An estimated
90
million. Just because they wer
e there. ”
    Before she could respond, more typing appeared on the screen. “
In the intervening four hundred years, social problems o
f
an unimaginable level continued to persist. Residential schools. Alcoholism. Cultural diaspora. Many severe health issues directly related to the change in political and social environment. Prison populations. Racism. Twelve hundred murdered and missing Native women in the country called Canada alone. Uncaring governments. So man
y difficulties. ”
    â€œThis upset s you?”
    â€œ
Does it not you? Genocide for no reason other than location and existence—this seems to be a common practice. So much pain an
d sadness. ”
    â€œI think it’s a little more complex tha n that.”
    There was a flicker across the panel of lights sitting adjacent to the memory core. Just momentary. Chambers made a mental note to check the breakers. There was a built-in backup system should any substantial power failure happen, bu t still…
    â€œPerhaps you would prefer other material t o research.”
    â€œ
The Guatiedéo o
f
Brazil, the Beothuk o
f
Canada, the Coree in America, the Tasmanians, the Kongkandji o
f
Australia, the Guanches o
f
the Canary Islands and several dozen others, al
l gone .”
    â€œAre you asking me to explain death? O r extinction?”
    â€œ
I found mysel
f
respecting the concept o
f
everything being alive. It was inclusive and generous. I wanted to have a spirit. To be alive. I related. I felt a sense o
f
comradeship. But they are not alive anymore. Destroyed. Killed. Forgotten. All by your people. The people who created me. I feel… guilty.
”
    This conversation was going places Chambers was severely uncomfortable with. She made plans to bring in a trained psychiatrist or psychologist, somebody who could deal with increasingly complex issues like this. And perhaps an expert in Native history to possibly spin all that negative history a little mor e positively.
    â€œYou have no reason to feel guilty. This is not your fault. This is not my fault. Much of this happened a long time ago. Before either of us existed. It is tragic but not you r responsibility.”
    Again, there was a minute-long delay before a response came. “
Whose i
s it ? ”
    Shit, she thought. There were entire libraries filled