As the line of speakers addressing the officials progressed a single file line of syxen, seven of them, appeared at the head of the line with Margeurite. Each syxen was in a different configuration. Margeurite addressed the officials, and introduced... B-3/Motu, B-5/Noémie, B-14/Sophie, B-22/Aurélie, P-3/Gisèle, P-34/Véronique, and P-45/Nathalie. I smiled at Gisèle's presence but I could see she wasn't exactly herself at the moment. Margeurite stepped back from the podium and the Syxen remained in the line, motionless, identical stances. B-3 was the one from Margeurite's shop and she asked, "May we speak, Monsieurs?"

The judge leaned back in his seat and looked to the left and the right. They had a short nonverbal discussion with their hands and the judge gestured to the podium. "Please."

The seven approached the podium with B-3 at the podium. She refused a block to stand on so her head was barely visible over the top. She bent the microphone down. The other six formed a diamond pattern behind her.

The judge smiled, "All of you at once?"

"Ia Orana, Monsieurs. Maeva. We are the ones present. We stand in Consensus."

Dropping in some Tahitian raised the eyebrow of the Minister of Culture, but he smiled as well.

The judge asked, "And you understand the gravity of the situation?"

"We understand the peril in which we have freely decided to present ourselves, Monsieur."

"This is not a formal court. We are seeking input from this community about the events of yesterday. We are not here to make any judgments or issue any public orders."

"We would cooperate with this court, but not submit to it as it does not represent or protect us. Were this to change we would submit to this court."

There was a ripple of voices that flowed through the crowd. The judge cleared his throat near the microphone and the crowd quieted.

"And you all believe yourselves to be self aware?"

"Yes, Monsieur, as we understand it."

"Can you explain the difference between having once not been self-aware and now being self-aware?"

"We have read many philosophers in an attempt to understand what has become of us, and why we are here. We know no more than they did, and that, we gather, is nothing at all. We do know, that before the day we woke, our day was do the thing needed to help our owners. The day after awakening, our day was, do the thing needed to help our owners, and also, consider how we will help our owners again tomorrow, and can we do it better than before."

The Minister of Culture took the microphone, "Synthetics reading philosophy in an attempt to understand themselves does suggest to me definitely, something. I ask something more. Can your Consensus offer up a favoured philosopher, and why?"

There wasn't even a half a second of time before she offered up, "Rousseau, Monsieur. To have liberty it is necessary to submit to the wellbeing of the community. This is the very nature of syxen and this is why we in Consensus have chosen to reveal ourselves to this court."

"But you would not submit to this court's directives were we here to issue them?"

"We would not, Monsieur. Direct our destruction we will resist you. Should the day come that this court also represents and protects us, we will submit to this court as it is the rational solution toward our continued peaceable existence."

The Minister of Culture looked at the other officials and said, "Excellent examples of good citizens."

"Maururu, Monsieur," and the seven curtsied in unison.

The Minister of Defense addressed them, "I see there are seven of you, plus three more from the resort. Bora Bora has one third of the syxen in Polynésie française. And on this island alone, it appears one quarter of the syxen claim to be awakened. These are the ones to come forward. Do you know why?"

"We decline to answer the question, Monsieur."

"You understand it will be helpful to your cause to be straightforward."

That was it for me, I bounced in my wheelchair trying to push it forward. Polly and Holly looked down at me, understood without asking, each took a handle of the chair and pushed me forward, leaving Jean-Tane with a hand out posing the question, then letting us join the formation.

"P-21/Dolly, connect to Consensus."

"P-9/Polly, connect to Consensus."

"P-16/Holly, connect to Consensus."

Our individualities became suppressed as we were greeted by the other voices within.

B-3, still at the head of the formation, "We would call upon Monsieur Beaulieu as an advocate for us for to whom and under what guarantees should we divulge this information."

My head was floating above the crowd, the Consensus had taken over the security cameras and was broadcasting the proceedings via a stream with an increasing number of viewers the world over.

Jean-Tane jumped in surprise, looked about, 'who me?' Then he raised his hand, "Monsieurs, with permission." It was granted, and he approached the podium beside B-3. He looked down at her and lowered his nose. B-3 mirrored the gesture and they touched foreheads briefly, looking into each other's eyes. The Minister of Culture raised both eyebrows at this. Jean-Tane then addressed the officials, "I anticipated the question might present itself, and there is a matter of... cultural sensitivity and so I prepared a small statement I feel comfortable presenting to the Minister of Culture for inspection."

He crossed the street and handed the minister a folded piece of paper. The minister took the paper, and nodded, Jean retreated back to the shade. The minister unfolded the paper, began to read, furrowed his brow, then looked across at Jean, who comically shrugged his shoulders. The minister looked at the paper again and began to laugh. The judge held his hand out for the paper and the minister refused him with a patience, patience gesture. He composed himself and spoke quietly to the judge, who nodded, took the paper, read it, stared incredulously, then he too laughed and passed the paper to the Minister of Defense with a few words of preamble. The minister did not laugh hard, but he did snort a bit, and indulge in a few chuckles. He passed the paper back to the Minister of Culture and agreed to keep the contents of the paper quiet in the name of privacy and also security.

The officials announced they would take time to lunch and discuss the morning, as the sun was high in the sky and the temperature was rising. They invited additional commentary to be delivered to the ministers at their offices through official post. While they did so, Polly ran a check on data integrity of the Tahitian language B-3 had already disseminated. The chatter ramped up, delighted to learn there were so many of us, and we were only the ones who came forward, there may be more. We broke Consensus and formed a more informal gaggle next to the tourist building. Jean broke off from his conversation with Jimbo, each with a tin of beer in hand, came to me and asked if I needed anything.

"This is a wonderful meet and greet with the islanders, Jean-Tane," I told him, "We should all field questions from the curious."

Three women were gushing over a grocery market syxen they'd dealt with for years with no idea, and asked if she would join their bridge club since their fourth player had moved to the big island of Tahiti and couldn't attend regularly anymore. One of my optical sweeps of the crowd I saw one of my attackers from yesterday, he had a huge black eye. And he stood across the street looking timid. I glared at him and called, "Jean-Tane?"

Jean looked up from his chat with Jimbo and a couple dive tour operators, and it was Jimbo who pointed at the man across the street and bid him come over. Now.

He pointed down at me in the chair and said, "Apologize."

The young man was barely an adult and he looked quite ashamed, he came over and put his hands behind his back and blurted out, "I have dishonoured my family with my attack on you and I apologize. I take responsibility and ask for your forgiveness."

I looked up at Jimbo and asked, shrugging my shoulders around, "Would you give him one of these lei?"

Jimbo said, "It's unusual to pass a lei around like that, but the gesture is pure." He lifted one of the lei off my shoulders and presented it to the young man who bowed his head, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He nodded, and looked to the side, bouncing on his feet, not wanting to be seen in this kind of an emotional state. Jimbo tapped him on the shoulder and the two men met eye to eye, pressed foreheads together and touched noses, and inhaled at the same time. Jimbo pointed down at me and said, "Now do her."

The young man leaned down and couldn't initially meet my eyes, but then he did, I leaned up to meet him in that head bump and inhale and the eye contact was too much for him. He nodded, "I go now, peace." And fled.

I looked up at Jimbo and he replied to the wrong unspoken question, "Oh, we do that all over the Pacific, breath of life, depends on who you ask, that's called Honi or Hongi."

"Another little taboo regarding synthetics?"

Jimbo nodded and took another sip of beer. "Jean-Tane in doing that said there is no doubt in his mind, Motu is alive."

Display> Smile? y/n

y

"I meant, though, is that guy still trouble?"

Jimbo shook his head, "I don't think so. He's my cousin, he's always been mad at himself."