'Since the great act of freedom, no one had seen a robot. But we couldn't be sure they are not still out there watching us. So as secretly as possible we have taken to the shores. Megamax has indeed shown us it was the source of everything.'

'And on the shore, we realised the real source was farther upstream and actually above water. We first learned to collect and carry salt in the shallow waters far inside the land, On the land lay a paradise of colours and sounds.'

'Then we learned to cover ourselves with algae to keep us wet in the dreaded atmosphere. That was the price to pay in order to able to walk onto that land. Furthermore, we had to dodge the fearful winged guardians, which were sometimes seen offshore but were a constant threat on the inner lands. It was best to come at night to avoid attacks and to stay wet. Pity for the colours, we confess.'

'But we watched and waited as much we could, to discover this new world. And we were rewarded. We've observed on many occasions the variety of animals above ground. Most are what we should call quadrupeds but they are known as halflings because they have only half the proper number of tentacles.'

'Still a more fearsome and at the same time fascinating species is walking on two permanently specialised members and uses two meta tentacles bearing each five diminutive tentacles at their end. That makes those halflings closer to us than the rest for at least a good reason.'

'The sad truth, that we recently realised, is that they have another common trait with us, or at least our ancestors. There are living under the tyranny of the robots!'

'That is why I ask you now to look into your heart and embrace the halflings as if they were your kin. Together, we and the halflings are but one people that is still oppressed by the robots. We have been freed by our faith in Megamax. Now it is time to free our enslaved brothers. It is time to launch the crusade that will repel the robots forever out of our world. Prepare yourself for another fight. Glory awaits the octopus people!'

***

It was the night of the full moon. At its zenith, it indeed imposed its glory upon the coastal landscape. The village of fishermen was quietly enlightened whereas the sea kept on blinking. As often, the shaman admired the scene from his hut up on the cliff. He was also thinking hard about the possibility that the robots came from the moon.

They certainly come from the skies since they fly, though unlike birds. The stars too small. And they can't live on the sun. Too bright. The only place where they could rest in the sky lies on the moon. Obvious.

And actually so obvious, that the other humans down below might have thought about it already. He was after something bigger, something like how nice it was up there or the reason why robots came down on Earth in the first place. He kept on imagining until he was alerted by the sound of a rolling stone. He turned only his head, slowly, and paid attention until he also detected someone panting on the steep path up to his hut. He decided to wait there, facing the sea.

The sounds became louder and sure enough, a silhouette appeared at the front door but seemed uncertain at knocking.

'I here' said the shaman.

The newcomer was startled. 'You know I come? Very wise...'

'Say what you need' was the only answer.

'Shaman, I need talk. I see something really scary. I in water work on the crab traps. Then weird animal come. And I eat it. But other weird animals come and I run here.'

'How weird?'

'Many legs like a crab but no carapace. And big as cat.'

'Weird.'

'Weird!'

'And you said scary?'

'Signs on the sand. The animals did signs like robots.'

'You sure no robot or human?'

'No. I sure. Other weird animals did it for before me.'

The shaman was perplex, but reached a conclusion.

'Carry me there,' he ordered.

'Yes, old and wise shaman,' sighed the poor fisherman.

'I not old, just wise.'

'Yes, wise shaman.'

And he bowed to allow the shaman to climb on his back.

It took them more than half an hour to reach the village via the long but gentle road whereas to climb down the cliff would have taken a few minutes. Going through the market square, the carrying fellow anticipated with relief to literally have this intellectual problem off his back. But he sighed again when he realised the shaman refused to step down until he would be at the very sighting site.

The last steps in the sand were difficult because his feet tend to sink deeper than usual and that put him a couple of times on the verge of falling flat on his back with the shaman caught in sandwich. Not an unpleasant thought, but the clear anticipation of the beating he would have received as a consequence helped him to concentrate on his balance. And instead, he lost his way. Or so he feared for a few long seconds, until he spotted the remainings of the weird animal.

'There,' he said pointing at a tentacle, 'I ate some of those things but it stuck inside my throat.'

Still hanging on the shoulders of his carrier, the shaman slowly extended his legs and finally reunited with the Earth. He complained, bent down to pick up the dangling tentacle, and complained again.

The young stared at him but missed the transition from the isotropic mumbling to the short question directed at him. He snapped.

'You heard me. Don't play fool! Where the signs?'

'Hum... Can't see. I guess the tide already erased them.'

'Lost. Your fault.'

'No, no. Not lost. Not my fault.'

'How?'

'I can write.'

'No you can't. I did not teach you.'

'But I can remember signs. And I could draw the signs again.'

The contempt was visible on the shaman's face, but his lips said, 'do it'.

Soon, the shaman read 'PLEACE' in the sand.

'You meant "please". It contains a S, not a C.'

'I sure a C on the sand.'

'And the E? It could work without the E.'

'Absolutely sure of the two Es.'

'And the L,' checked the shaman.

'I guess I sure also, but not absolutely.'

'Ok, then they probably wrote PEACE,' he sub-vocalised. 'That would make sense for a traveller.'

Then he resumed solemnly, 'Those creatures have come here in peace, under the protection of the robot lords, to leave their doomed world and to reach a better one.'

The carrier was visibly amazed by the extent of the shaman's knowledge, which encouraged the latter to build up on it.

'In fact, they are messengers showing us the way forward. If our people want to reach pure wisdom, we must understand their message.'

At which point, the kid turned on his heels and started running towards the village to reveal this story. He would later be known as the Messiah spotter and would eventually replace the dying shaman, but for the moment his mind was filled with horror and awe.

As for the shaman, he was pleased with himself, and that triggered the psychological need for a treat. He looked down at a tentacle with hesitation.

***

The next low tide was during day light, and by that time everyone in the village was fully briefed on the visit and instructed on how to write the word "PEACE". That welcoming message was placed every few paces along the entire length of the beach. But no one came.

Unabated, the shaman ordered a wall to be built before the night tide, close to the very place where they had encountered the squids. A wood panel was erected on the sand and he painted on it by twilight. First, white, then black. The few torches behind him cast on the panel the moving shadow of a giant monster.

Once his work achieved, he took few steps back and then walked down to the inoffensive waves. The villagers stared and waited. The shaman went knee deep into the water, turned around back to the shore and bent as if willing to sit onto the surface. A mother quickly grabbed her child and firmly pressed her hand on its eyes. A hopeless fight ensued; meanwhile the shaman shouted, 'I need light.' And the next sentence was received with relief by the mother who thus let her child escaped.

'Otherwise, the messenger people will not see my answer. They may like darkness, but they need a minimum of light to move around. Let's install five more torches before the wall.'

He then stepped back out of the water.

***

A few days later, after successful and constructive exchanges between the worlds, the degenerated humans were assessing the implications of the latest and critical piece of news delivered by the squids.

The robots manipulated squids like pets. They gave us knowledge but they took our liberty. That deal was refused by the octopus people, and we urge your people to refuse too.

'That not right,' said the oldest fishermen.

The carpenter answered, 'but that good advice for our children.'

Another added, 'I don't trust someone who cannot talk.'

'But they can hear. In fact, they wrote they can hear at long distance under water.'

'I don't care. I would rather trust a bird which can fly like the robots.'

'But the guardian robot has not done any of two for weeks. He doesn't move. He doesn't talk. He just plays the statue on the cliff overlooking the village.'

'So he must have observed the octopuses. And us of course.'

'Do you think he minds? Would they punish us for that?

The shaman had been silent so far, because he was indeed tormented by the implications of his act. It was a case of serious threat of losing dignity versus unreasonable step into the unknown.

He finally rose and calmed everyone before summarising.

'My people, my friends, my family, we stand today faced with a difficult choice that we haven't asked for. We now asked to choose between the quiet life of subservient lifeforms to a given superior entity and the life of free and wild animals surviving against all odds in the jungle. I see a tangible worthiness into proving our people can choose its own path, even an unguided one. But we also take the risk that this very choice reveals itself in fact as a test of our faith in the robots and our reliability towards them. I have thought carefully about this dilemma... and I have decided not to decide. As a matter of fact, the urgency into choosing a path we know nothing about not credible. I will not decide against the robots, but the next generation probably will. I guess the answer lies in our beliefs. In the meantime, I will lead the research and the communication with the sea people.'

The audience stayed silent for a long moment.

So the shaman resumed quietly, 'I have finished saying what needed to be said.'

Most men were surprised not to have been shouted at, as it was customary from the shaman during a village council.

The shrewd ones were already realising they were given a free choice but also the responsibility that came on the flip side.

Then the older fishermen said, 'first, we learn. Then we decide.'

They all agreed but without emphasis.