Look to Windward (Culture, #7)

by Iain M. Banks

impression that he had been mistaken for a sculpture or an article of monumental furniture. This happened fairly often. A function of scale and stillness, basically. It was one hazard of being a glisteningly black three-and-a-bit-meter-tall pyramidal triped in a society of slim, matte-skinned two-meter-tall bipeds.

Kabe the Homamdan has an interesting morphology

They approached a group of humans centered on the Mahrai Ziller. The Chelgrian was nearly as long as Kabe was tall, and covered in fur that varied from white around his face to dark brown on his back. He had a predator’s build, with large forward-facing eyes set in a big, broad-jawed head. His rear legs were long and powerful; a striped tail, woven about with silver chain, curved between them. Where his distant ancestors would have had two middle-legs, Ziller had a single broad midlimb, partially covered by a dark waistcoat. His arms were much like a human’s, though covered in golden fur and ending in broad, six-digit hands more like paws.

Ziller the Chelgrian also has an interesting morphology

your war.”

Resentment. This ship, and Quilan’s girlfriend ,was destroyed during the Idiran war

“Shall we return to Aquime? I have work to do.”

Such a great conversation. Two fascinating characters, foils to and different perspectives on the Culture.

What the Chelgrian-Puen, the gone-before, did with their still applicable super powers was to build heaven. They made matter of fact what had until then required an act of faith to believe in. When a Chelgrian died, their Soulkeeper device was the bridge that carried them across to the afterlife.

This meddling in, or simple contact with, the unsublimed Chelgrians is what makes them unique among galactic civilizations.

She wished that she had chosen a name. If she had she would have spoken it now; voiced it to the clear air like some declaration of intent. But she did not have a name, because she was not what she appeared to be; not a Chelgrian female; not a Chelgrian, not even a biological creature at all. I am a Culture terror weapon, she thought; designed to horrify, warn and instruct at the highest level. A name would have been a lie.

Not a Chelgrian, but a Culture agent!

“One death?”. The Estodien fixed him with his gaze again. “One important death. Much might result from that.” He looked away, humming a tune. Quilan recognized the melody; it was by Mahrai Ziller.

Quilan is supposed to kill Ziller! ... no, the one important death is ... the Massaq Hub Mind!

“In any case, even if heaven did not exist originally, people have created it. It does exist. In fact, lots of different heavens exist.” “Pa! Technology. These so-called heavens will not last. There will be war in them, or between them.”

Indeed! As detailed in Surface Detail!

“All it is is looking inside an animal brain.” “That’s just it. It is so easy, and it would mean so little, really. That is why the not-doing of it is probably the most profound manner in which we honor our biological progenitors. This prohibition is a mark of our respect. And so I cannot do it.” “You mean you won’t do it.” “They are almost the same thing.” “You have the ability.” “Of course.” “Then do it.” “Why?”. “Because I won’t attend the concert otherwise.” “I know that. I mean what would I be looking for?”. “The real reason he’s here.” “You really imagine he might be here to harm you?”. “It’s a possibility.”

Excellent argument about privacy, in the face of eminent death/murder.

Quilan and the two Estodiens sat with bowed heads in the innermost recessional space of the Soulhaven, a nearly spherical cavity only a few meters in diameter and surrounded by two-meter-thick walls made from substrates holding millions of departed Chelgrian souls.

Chelgrian heaven, inside the behemothaur Sansemin

“Ziller, are you concerned that Minds—AIs, if you like—can create, or even just appear to create, original works of art?”. “Frankly, when they’re the sort of original works of art that I create, yes.” “Ziller, it doesn’t matter. You have to think like a mountain climber.” “Oh, do I?”. “Yes. Some people take days, sweat buckets, endure pain and cold and risk injury and—in some cases—permanent death to achieve the summit of a mountain only to discover there a party of their peers freshly arrived by aircraft and enjoying a light picnic.”

Nice way to look at creating art.

The avatar started to tell Ziller its story.

The beginning of Massaq’s story

Both Minds became the one Mind, became me.”

Incredible story!

“I have watched people die in exhaustive and penetrative detail,” the avatar continued. “I have felt for them. Did you know that true subjective time is measured in the minimum duration of demonstrably separate thoughts? Per second, a human—or a Chelgrian—might have twenty or thirty, even in the heightened state of extreme distress associated with the process of dying in pain.” The avatar’s eyes seemed to shine. It came forward, closer to his face by the breadth of a hand. “Whereas I,” it whispered, “have billions.” It smiled, and something in its expression made Ziller clench his teeth. “I watched those poor wretches die in the slowest of slow motion and I knew even as I watched that it was I who’d killed them, who was at that moment engaged in the process of killing them. For a thing like me to kill one of them or one of you is a very, very easy thing to do, and, as I discovered, absolutely disgusting. Just as I need never wonder what it is like to die, so I need never wonder what it is like to kill, Ziller, because I have done it, and it is a wasteful, graceless, worthless and hateful thing to have to do. “And, as you might imagine, I consider that I have an obligation to discharge. I fully intend to spend the rest of my existence here as Masaq’ Hub for as long as I’m needed or until I’m no longer welcome, forever keeping an eye to windward for approaching storms and just generally protecting this quaint circle of fragile little bodies and the vulnerable little brains t...

Wow... just... wow...

“Be my guest.” Above their heads, in a matter of seconds, the Orbital slowed to a stop, while beneath their feet the stars started to revolve once again.

What a chapter! Really got into the mind of the Mind. Also note how the setting matches the speed and intensity of Massaq’s story: the relativity between the Orbital and the stars.

Are you ready, Quilan? Will you be my twin in this? He took its other hand. ~ If you will be my mate.

💜 :*}