CHAPTER THREE: THE TRIBUNAL
The tribunal room wasn't what Mark expected. He thought it'd be like a regular courtroom, with judge seats, a witness area, the common design of human courts. Instead, he was in a sphere—a complete sphere, fifty meters wide, where the walls seemed dark, absorbing all light and sound. The floor felt real but you couldn't see it, like you were standing on nothing, floating.
In the middle were three figures. The Archivists. Mark had seen pictures, sure. There were leaked photos, and official UN releases. But nothing could prepare someone to see them. They weren't like humans—that was the first thing. They didn't have a solid form, their bodies changing like liquid metal. Sometimes they were balanced on two sides, sometimes like a star, sometimes in ways that were painful to look at. They talked through light, patterns moving on their bodies in waves of color that Mark struggled to read as speech.
Dr. Okonkwo stood next to him, with a UN team and scientists. Across the sphere, opposite the Archivists, was another group. The prosecution.
Keeper Vess looked similar to humans, but like a statue – mostly right, but off. Her skin was clear, showing pulsing, light-filled organs. Her eyes were huge, sections like an insect's, showing the room in bits. She didn't wear clothes; her body was a mix of clothing and defense. It shifted between clear like glass to rough like a tree to moving like water.
Okonkwo said she'd worked on this case for 300 years. Looking at her, Mark thought it was true. She seemed patient, in a way that comes from living longer than humans can understand.
The trial will start, one of the Archivists said. The words appeared in Mark's head, not through his ears. It was scary, like someone else's thoughts were being put into his brain. I am Witness Prime. I have watched Earth for 60,000 years. I have noted the rise and fall of kinds, new and dead languages, and how intelligence grows.
The second Archivist sent out blue light. I am Witness Second. I keep the family records. I save the DNA of gone animals, the memory of what's been lost.
The third Archivist glowed red. I decide. I decide if a species has the right to live in a universe that has only so much stuff and endless chance.
Mark's throat felt dry. These weren't judges like humans know. They were something else—watchers, recorders, killers. They'd seen all of human history like a scientist looks at a petri dish.
Keeper Vess, Witness Prime said. Tell us why.
Vess moved forward, her body flowing instead of walking. When she spoke, her voice was nice—smooth, good to hear, made to please human ears. Which made it almost worse.
Honored Witnesses, I am here to say that humans should be stopped. In the last 60,000 years, humans have met three other smart species on Earth. Each time, humans have made these species almost or fully disappear because of what they did. I will show that these weren't slip-ups or not knowing enough, but real choices made knowing what would happen.
She moved her hand, and the sphere showed images. The cave painting Mark had seen before, human and Neanderthal hands on top of each other. Then more images, one after another—old sites, DNA, clips of meeting and fighting.
First, the Neanderthals. Homo neanderthalensis. A species that lived for 300,000 years before Homo sapiens left Africa. They had language, art, things they made. They buried their dead. They cared for others. They made music. The images showed a bone flute, with holes spaced for music. They were people.
Vess brought up a model of a Neanderthal skull, turning it slowly. Their brains were bigger than human brains. Their mouth parts could make speech. DNA tests show they had the FOXP2 thing—the same that lets humans talk. They could talk. And when they met humans, they tried to talk.
The sphere showed old video. Neanderthals and humans meeting, the Neanderthals making peace signs, offering gifts. Then fighting, fast and tough. Bodies in snow. Kids crying. Death spreading.
For 10,000 years, humans got rid of Neanderthals from everywhere they both lived. The DNA shows a little crossing— 2% of modern human DNA comes from Neanderthals. But this wasn't peaceful living together. Research on Neanderthal bodies shows damage from violence, from murder. We find many graves. We find proof of eating others. We find skulls of Neanderthal kids smashed by human weapons.
Mark watched, feeling sick. Okonkwo stood still, her face calm.
The prosecution believes, Vess said, that humans knew Neanderthals were smart, as people, and killed them anyway. The proof is clear. Humans and Neanderthals made art together. They traded tools. They shared hunting spots. They talked. And then humans decided it wasn't easy to live together, and they killed almost everyone.
She waited, letting the images fill the space. The sphere showed a last clip: a Neanderthal family in a cave, scared as humans came with fire and spears. The Neanderthal father came forward, spoke words that were translated as: We are friendly. We can both live here.
The humans killed them all.
Years ago, Vess said, the last Neanderthal died. A species that had gotten through ice ages and harsh winters, that had spread all over Europe and Asia, that had made its own world—gone. Erased. Killed by humans.
The images went away. The sphere went dark.
That is the first thing, Vess said. Killing a people. The planned end of a smart species. And it's not the only one.
She moved her hand again, and the sphere showed water. Ocean deeps, light shining through blue. Shapes moving—dolphins, their bodies smooth, their swims suggesting intelligence.
Second thing: hurting sea animal intelligence. Dolphins, whales— species with brains as big or bigger than human brains, with many social groups. Species that humans have studied and hurt.
The images showed research places; dolphins in tanks doing puzzles, using items, knowing who they are. Then the images darkened—drowned dolphins, beaches with stuck whales, lots of trash in the oceans.
Humans have known for 50 years that dolphins have language, Vess said. They each have names, talking habits, and ways of saying things. You've taped their songs, proven their intelligence in tests. And as you took notes on their intelligence, you filled their oceans with noises that hurts their speech. Military sonar, shipping boats— all of it at frequencies that cause brain damage in dolphins, that forces them to beach themselves, that hurts the language you were studying.
She brought up graphs showing dolphin life getting smaller, and noise making it hard to hear getting worse.
You knew, Vess said. You had the numbers. You had scientists wanting you to stop. And you kept going, because doing other things was more useful than letting dolphins live.
Mark felt all the things she said like a weight. Next to him, one of the UN scientists was crying quietly.
Third thing, Vess said, and the sphere showed other life. Octopuses, their bodies moving through reefs, their skin making colors that were hard to read. Doing bad things to thinking patterns. Octopuses have nine brains—one big one and one in each arm. Each arm can solve things, make choices, learn. They are only one mind but nine minds working together.
The images showed octopuses solving puzzles, using items, escaping tanks, showing problem-solving skills. Then the images went to restaurants, markets.
You took notes on their intelligence, Vess said. You wrote papers and then you ate them. You knew they were smart, and you killed them anyway. Because they were too alien.
She showed population graphs showing octopus numbers going down by forty percent. You are making them almost disappear by hurting where they live. And you are doing it knowing what you're hurting. Because you have decided that only thoughts that look like human thoughts deserve to live.
The sphere went dark. Vess stood in the middle, her skin glowing, her eyes showing Mark's face in pieces.
Three species, she said. Three different ways of thinking. Three different ways of living. And in each case, humans have picked dying out over living together.
She turned to the Archivists. The prosecution rests. Humans have that they can't understand other life but have harmed it. They are a species that destroys, that repeats that action over time. They should not live. They do not deserve the chance.
Silence filled the sphere. The Archivists talked in patterns Mark didn't understand.
The defense speaks, Witness Prime said.
All eyes turned to Mark.
He stood still, confused. Everything Vess had said was true.
Okonkwo touched his arm. Mark. It's time.
He stepped forward, shaking. The sphere felt big, the dark pressing in.
Mark started talking.