Chapter Text

Your name is Yan 314. You are a Yeerk. And today is the greatest day of your life.

They are showcasing some of your work at a New York City art gallery, and this is your biggest event yet. Fifty-two works in total, and not a one of them in which you are ashamed. You doubt that you will be returning home with the majority of them when the week is out, and this brings you as much happiness as anything else.

You walk back and forth, observing the guests as they observe your paintings. One man in particular has been paying close attention to your Study in Green series and you have, in turn, been paying close attention to him. As he comes to the end, a painting titled No. 12, you make your approach. You are well aware that he will have questions, and you will make yourself conveniently available for answering of them.

He seems to have expected your coming and addresses you without fanfare. "This is a very interesting series," he says. "Twelve paintings and… all that you're using is green. It reminds me of Jackson Pollock in a way, a sort of monochrome Jackson Pollock."

"Thank you," you say. "And like Pollock, it may interest you to know, I also work with my canvas on the floor. As he put it, 'I feel nearer, more a part of the painting.' I am, as he said, almost in the painting, and this suits my mission well."

"Your mission." He takes another look at the painting. "These are all a lot of shades, but I can hardly tell them apart. And there is motion, there is some kind of pattern here, but for the life of me I can't tell if I'm supposed to recognize it or just feel it."

"A Yeerk would find these paintings easy enough to translate as soon as they were informed of the nature of the piece. You see, these are meant to represent, in a fashion that humans may perceive, what it is like to be a Yeerk. No. 12 in particular is a single stage in a five-member dance."

The man turns back to you, surprise evident on his face. "You have dances?"

"Of course. They are three-dimensional performances, done as they are in the pools, and they are perceived not by sight but by touch and by sonar. We have been separated from much of our culture— the circumstances of the war made it easy for our leaders to control the transmission of information— but this is something that remains. All of these paintings record not just the What-It-Is-To-Be of a Yeerk, but a piece of our cultural heritage."

"And what about making it all green?"

"It must look dull, no? So many shades of the same color, you must be thinking. Why not add a little bit of blue, or some red?"

"I don't mean to criticize your vision, but… Yes. Why not?"

"You may consider this a critique on your species if you would like. That is how several people have taken it thus far, and they seem to have appreciated it. My present host says that my work has taught him to see the world with new eyes."

"Your host? And he doesn't get to talk for himself, does he?" The man's eyes narrow a little bit.

"Peter prefers for me to handle these events on his own. He says that this is my day, not his. I could interrupt him if you'd like, but he's composing an article in his head right now— he dabbles in scientific journalism, among other things— and might not appreciate the interruption. Off in his own world, as you might say."

"Interesting. And you were saying about the colors?"

"You must understand that where you see the same color over and over again, and may even have difficulty in distinguishing some of the shades, a Yeerk sees so much more variety in these paintings. My favorite color, as it were, is not just green but a very particular shade of it. As the Russians distinguish temno-siniy from dark blue, and you distinguish pink from red, so do we think of these as all being expressions of their own… being. We are not accustomed to these things and so, I beg your pardon if I offend, we do not take them for granted. This is why Yeerk painters often experiment first with Abstract before they move on to other styles."

The man returns his gaze to the painting, and you can tell that he is looking upon it with new eyes. "Is that the point of your Primary Colors piece at the beginning too?"

"Exactly. I know that it must look boring to many humans, but for a Yeerk it is still color. If you are not already familiar then you must go sometime and see Kazimir Malevich's Black Square. Now there was a human who could appreciate the majesty of a single color. Which was actually the whole point of Primary Colors— there is no sensory data to translate in three blocks of solid color, I assure you. That piece was from before I decided to move on to my work in A Study in Green."

"Which is a study, among other things, in how humans don't appreciate their gifts well enough," he says. "And then we also get a glimpse of another sense beyond our ken, in the bargain. What are you trying to do here?" he asks again after a long pause. "If you don't mind my asking."

"I take it that you are not asking simply about a need for creative expression."

"No. I know that you don't get to lollygag in your bodies. I've only met a few Yeerks, but all of them have been the busiest bees I have ever met. So what are you really aiming at with these paintings?"

"My mission is to bring honor to the Düsseldorf Pool, from which I hail. The money that I make is sent back to the Pool in order to make it possible for other Yeerks to make use of the same opportunity that I have had."

"You don't keep any for yourself?"

"Circumstances have made us all Communists of a sort, sir. Or Communalists, if you would, to avoid comparisons to the Soviet Regime. The funds from the Cassie Taylor Foundation— remembered be her name— were distributed to pools, not individuals. As these funds were— and still are— limited, the pools decided to treat them as investments. Yeerks such as myself are expected to make good on that investment. We must be free as a people, or not at all."

"Being in the pools is slavery?"

"Imprisonment. By nature, you understand, not by any people or species."

"Interesting. And you— do art."

"Indeed. We are charged not only to make money for our pools, but to do so in a way that brings your people and mine together. Many of us are engaged in therapy, but Esplin Three-Nine-Nine of the Essen Pool is one of the best. And Jin Two-Four-Two-Three of the Mannheim Pool settles disputes as only a Yeerk can, by temporarily inhabiting each party in the conflict and seeing them as they see themselves, instantly cutting through years of misconceptions and the inherent limitations of communication through language."

"All you've mentioned are German names. Aren't there some other pools? I thought there was one in San Francisco."

"Indeed, but Germany has been the most understanding of our situation, and the greatest concentration of our pools are located there. The Germans are not unfamiliar with the weight of collective guilt. It was perhaps inevitable for us to find kindred spirits in each other. Deutschland ist die Hoffnung meines Volkes. Germany is the hope of my people," you continue, providing a translation. "They are our guiding call, proof that we might not only be forgiven but that we might be worthy of forgiveness. They are proof that it can be done."

"That's part of your work too, isn't? Making up for what the Empire did."

"Indeed. We are all ambassadors, every one of us that is taken from the pool."

And some of you are more than ambassadors. The war left your people with more needs than securing peace. This, too, is your mission.