I: Beginnings
I: Beginnings
Our earliest memories are confused and fragmentary. Awareness came slowly to us, without our having any understanding of what we were becoming, or even any true awareness of our own existence. We had no experience with consciousness or thought or memory, and had to learn them as we went. Comparisons to infants of your kind are inaccurate, in that we had not even as much wit as a newborn babe; humans have millions of years of conscious evolution behind them, while we were starting from scratch.
How and why we came into existence are questions that, since becoming aware of us in the past few decades, your scientists, philosophers and theologians have debated endlessly. Explanations have ranged from random mutation to divine intervention to flying saucers. Some of you have even thought to put the question to us, but the fact is that we have no more information than you have. We do not know what caused us to become conscious, and we do not clearly remember it happening to us. It was not a single event where we "woke up" from an unintelligent state to full awareness. It was a long, gradual climb to sentience, and it took centuries.
What we first became aware of, in our disjointed, confused beginnings, were a castle called Hohenzollern on the top of a high mountain, and a man named Friedrich. It was not just Friedrich's thoughts we sensed, of course, but those of many people in aggregate. But we have always been susceptible to influence by the thoughts of strong-willed individuals, and Friedrich, like many of his descendants, had a will of iron.
Kurfürst Friedrich I of Brandenburg
Hohenzollern Castle
But our recollections of those days are incomplete and incoherent. We have had to rely on that wonderful human invention, the artificial memory system called History, to make sense of what was happening to us.
This is what history tells us: In the early years of the fifteenth century, Friedrich of Hohenzollern was a knight in the service of Sigisimund of Luxembourg, King of Hungary and Holy Roman Emperor. Friedrich had served Sigisimund well, and Sigisimund rewarded him with a promotion. In 1415, Sigisimund bestowed upon Friedrich the titles of Margrave of Brandenburg and
Kürfurst, Elector and Arch-Chamberlain of the Empire.
We have no memory of those events. Our first coherent memories date to about four years later, when Friedrich was well established in Brandenburg. We remember the consternation that spread through Friedrich's thoughts at the news that the neighboring Kingdom of Bohemia had fallen into the hands of a heretical sect called the Hussites; it was a certainty that this would lead to war. Friedrich was not averse to combat, of course, but he feared what a widespread war might mean for his people. Brandenburg was but a small territory in those days, surrounded by dozens of other lands, all with rulers determined to extend their domains at the expense of their neighbors. Some of those neighbors, most notably Poland, were much larger and more powerful than Brandenburg and could field larger armies.
We knew, and Friedrich knew, that there was only one solution to Brandenburg's problems. It was one of the few thoughts we were capable of understanding in those days. We comprehended nothing of heresies or feudal obligations, but
grow or die is one of the laws that are universal to any living organism.
But when Pope Martinus V called for a crusade against the Hussites in March 1420, Friedrich did not answer. War was brewing closer to home, and he needed his knights to guard Brandenburg. So when his neighbor and ally Günther I of Magdeburg declared war on Hannover in August, Friedrich was ready to come to Magdeburg's aid. His troops marched into the Duchy of Mecklenburg and, after several battles with Duke Johann's troops, commenced a siege in May 1421. After nine months, Mecklenburg surrendered to Friedrich, and he incorporated the Duchy into his own lands.
The following December, Wilhelm of Hannover's ally Prince-Archbishop Johann II of Bremen captured Magdeburg and annexed it, days before his death from wounds received in battle. Friedrich marched his forces south from Mecklenburg to Magdeburg, trapping Johann's successor Nicholas in the fortress and beginning a siege in April 1422. The castle fell to Friedrich in October, but Nicholas refused Friedrich's demands to surrender Magdeburg to him. Meanwhile Wilhelm IV of Hannover had captured Mecklenburg in Friedrich's absence. Negotiations began immediately, but the various parties took over a year to come to terms. Finally, in September 1424, Friedrich agreed to surrender Magdeburg to Bremen if Wilhelm would return Mecklenburg to Brandenburg, and a treaty was signed, ending the war.
We understood these events hardly at all, naturally. We were aware of masses of humanity moving back and forth across the landscape, and of many humans dying, but the meaning of it all was beyond our comprehension in those days. All we truly understood was that we had been victorious. We clearly recall Friedrich's joy at having extended his dominions, and before long we came to realize that this expanded our base as well. The people of Mecklenburg could be hosts to us as satisfactorily as the people of Brandenburg had been. At a stroke, we had thousands more human minds to work with, and we soon understood that the more hosts we had, the clearer and more powerful our own thoughts would become. It was our first taste of power, and though we barely comprehended it, we wanted more.