Neanderthal Parallax 2 - Humans

by Robert J. Sawyer

“Only incidentally. It is really a solar collector. It converts sunlight into electricity.”

  Mary smiled. “I guess you have to shovel snow off it in winter,” she said.

  But Ponter shook his head. “No. The hover-bus that takes us to work lands there and uses its jets to blast the snow clear as it does so.”

  Her hatred of shoveling snow had been one of the reasons Mary opted for an apartment after she and Colm split up. She rather suspected that in her world, the TTC would balk at sending a bus with a plow on its front around to everyone’s home after each snowfall.

  “Come on,” said Ponter, walking toward the house. “Let us go in.”

  The door to Ponter’s house swung in. The interior walls were polished wood—the actual substance of the tree around them. Mary had seen hundreds of wood-paneled rooms before, but never one where the grain made one continuous pattern right around the room. If she hadn’t seen the house first from the outside, she would have been absolutely baffled about how it had been accomplished. Little niches had been carved into the walls at various points, and they contained small sculptures and bric-a-brac.

  At first Mary thought the floor was carpeted with green fabric, but she quickly realized it was actually moss. She seemed to be in what corresponded to a living room. There were a couple of freestanding oddly shaped chairs, and there were two couches protruding from the walls. There was no framed art, but the entire roof had been painted in a complex mural, and—

  And suddenly Mary’s blood ran cold.

  There was a wolf inside the house.

  Mary froze, her heart pounding.

  The wolf began its charge, rushing toward Ponter.

  “ Look out!” shouted Mary.

  Ponter turned and fell backward onto one of the couches.

  The wolf was upon him, its jaws opening wide, and—

  And Ponter laughed as the wolf licked his face.

  Ponter was repeating a handful of words over and over in his own language, but Hak wasn’t translating them. Still, Ponter’s tone was one of affectionate amusement.

  After a moment, he pushed the wolf off him and rose to his feet. The creature turned toward Mary.

  “Mare,” said Ponter, “this is my dog, Pabo.”

  “Dog!” exclaimed Mary. The animal was completely lupine, as far as she could tell: savage, ravenous, predatory.

  Pabo crouched down next to Ponter, and, lifting her muzzle high, let out a long, loud howl.

  “Pabo!” Ponter said, his tone remonstrative. And his next word must have been the Neanderthal for “Behave!” He smiled apologetically at Mary. “She has never seen a Gliksin before.”

  Ponter led Pabo over to Mary. Mary felt her back go stiff, and she tried not to tremble, as the toothy animal, which must have weighed at least a hundred pounds, sniffed her up and down.

  Ponter spoke to the dog for a few moments, his words untranslated, in the same lilting tone people from Mary’s world used when talking to their pets.

  At that moment, Adikor entered through an archway, coming from another room. “Hello, Mare,” he said. “Did you enjoy your tour?”

  “Very much so.”

  Ponter moved over to Adikor and drew him into a hug. Mary looked away for a moment, but, when she looked back, they were standing side by side, holding hands.

  Mary again felt pangs of jealousy, but—

  No, no. Surely that was unseemly. Surely Ponter and Adikor were just behaving as they always did, plain in their affection for each other.

  And yet—

  And yet, had it been Adikor who had initiated the hug? Or Ponter? She honestly couldn’t tell. And the clasping of hands had occurred while she wasn’t looking; she couldn’t say who had reached out for whom. Maybe Adikor was staking out his territory, making a show for Mary’s sake of his relationship with Ponter.

  Pabo, apparently now satisfied that Mary wasn’t some sort of monster, padded away and jumped up on one of the couches growing—quite literally—out of the wall.

  “Would you like to see the rest of the house?” asked Ponter.

  “Sure,” said Mary.

  She was led into an area—not really a separate room—that must have been the kitchen. A sheet of glass covered the mossy floor. Mary didn’t recognize any of the appliances, but she assumed the small cube might be something akin to a microwave oven, and the large unit, consisting of two identical blue cubes, one atop the other, might be a refrigerator of some sort. She gave voice to these guesses, and Adikor laughed.

  “Actually, that is a laser cooker,” he said, pointing at the small unit. “It uses the same rotating of frequencies we employ in the sterilizer you went through, but this time so it can cook the meat evenly inside and out. And we do not use refrigeration to store food much anymore, although we used to. That is a vacuum box.”

  “Ah,” said Mary. She turned, and was taken aback. One wall was filled with four perfectly square, flat monitor screens, each showing a completely different view of the Neanderthal world. She’d been concerned from the beginning about the Orwellian aspects of Neanderthal society, but hadn’t expected Ponter to be involved in monitoring his neighbors.

  “That’s the Voyeur,” said Adikor, coming over to join them. “It’s how we monitor the Exhibitionists. He stepped over to the quartet of monitors and made an adjustment. Suddenly the four separate squares merged into one large one, with a magnified view of the Exhibitionist who had been in the lower-right. “That one is my favorite,” said Adikor. “Hawst is always up to something interesting.” He took in the view for a second. “Ah, he is at a daybatol game.”

  “Come on, ” said Ponter, motioning for them both to follow. His tone suggested that once Adikor started watching a daybatol match, it was hard to get him away from the Voyeur.

  Mary followed him, as did Adikor. The next room was clearly their bedroom/bathroom. It had a large window looking out over a brook, and a recessed square pit filled with square cushions, forming a large sleeping surface. On top were a few disk-shaped pillows. At the side of the room was a circular pit, again recessed into the ground. “Is that the bath?” asked Mary.

  Ponter nodded. “You are welcome to use it, if you wish.”

  Mary shook her head. “Maybe later.” Her gaze fell back on the bed, pictures of a naked Ponter and Adikor entwined in sexual acts forming in her mind.

  “And that is it,” said Ponter. “That is our home.”

  “Come,” said Adikor. “Let us go back into the living room.”

  They did so, Ponter leading the way. Adikor shooed Pabo off one of the couches and lay down on his back upon it. Ponter indicated that Mary could take the other couch. Perhaps being recumbent was the normal leisure posture for Neanderthals; certainly it would be the best way to look at ceiling murals.

  Mary did indeed take the other couch, thinking that Ponter would sit next to her. But instead he moved over to where Adikor was lying down and gave him an affectionate rap on the top of his head. Adikor sat up for a moment. Mary expected him to swing his feet around, sitting properly on the couch, but as soon as Ponter had sat down at the end of the couch, Adikor lowered himself, placing his head in Ponter’s lap.

  Mary felt a knotting in her stomach. Still, Ponter had probably never entertained a female he was romantically involved with in his house before.

  “So,” said Ponter, “what do you think of our world so far?”

  Mary took the opportunity to look away from Ponter and Adikor, as if she needed to visualize all that she’d seen already in her mind’s eye. “It’s…” She shrugged. “Different.” And then, realizing that might sound offensive, she quickly added, “But nice. Very nice.” She paused. “Clean.”

  Her own comment made Mary laugh a bit on the inside. Clean. That’s what Americans always said when they visited Toronto. What a clean city you have!

  But Toronto was a pigsty compared to what Mary had seen of Saldak. She’d always thought it economically impossible for a large population of humans to not have a deva
stating effect on the environment, but…

  But it wasn’t a large population that did such things. Rather, it was a constantly growing population. With their discrete generations, it seemed that the Neanderthals had enjoyed zero population growth for centuries.

  “We like it,” said the recumbent Adikor, apparently trying to move the conversation along. “Which, of course, is why it is the way it is.”

  Ponter stroked Adikor’s hair. “Their world has its charms, too.”

  “I understand your cities are much bigger,” said Adikor.

  “Oh, yes,” said Mary. “Many have millions of people; Toronto, where I’m from, has almost three million.”

  Adikor shook his head, rotating it back and forth in Ponter’s lap. “Astonishing,” he said.

  “We will take you into the Center after dinner,” said Ponter. “Things are more compacted there; buildings are only a few tens of paces apart.”

  “Is that where the bonding ceremony will be held?” asked Mary.

  “No, that will occur halfway between Center and Rim.”

  A thought suddenly occurred to Mary. “I—I didn’t bring anything fancy to wear.”

  Ponter laughed. “Do not worry. No one will be able to tell which Gliksin clothes are normal and which are for special occasions. They all look strange to us.” Ponter then tipped his head down, looking at Adikor’s face. “Speaking of which, you have a meeting tomorrow with Fluxatan Consortium, do you not? What are you going to wear for that?” Rather than cut Mary off from the conversation, Hak continued to translate.

  “I do not know,” Adikor said.

  “What about the green jerkin?” said Ponter. “I like the way it shows off your biceps, and—”

  Suddenly, Mary could take no more. She shot to her feet and made a beeline for the front door. “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to catch her breath, trying to calm down. “I am so sorry.”

  And she stepped outside into the dark.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Ponter followed Mary out, closing the door behind him. Mary was shivering. Ponter didn’t seem the least disturbed by the evening air, but he was clearly aware of Mary’s reaction to it. He moved closer to her, as if to encircle her in his massive arms, but Mary shrugged her shoulders violently, rejecting his touch, and turned away from him, looking out at the countryside.

  “What is wrong?” asked Ponter.

  Mary took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Nothing,” she said. She knew she sounded petulant, and she hated herself for it. What was wrong? She’d known Ponter had a male lover, but—

  But it was one thing to be aware of it as an abstract fact; it was another to see it in the flesh.

  Mary was astonished at herself. She’d felt more jealous just now than she had been when she’d first seen Colm with his new girlfriend after he and Mary had split up.

  “Nothing,” said Mary again.

  Ponter spoke in his own tongue in a voice that sounded both confused and sad. Hak’s translation had a more neutral tone. “I am sorry if I offended you…somehow.”

  Mary looked up at the dark sky. “It’s not that I’m offended,” she said. “It’s just that…” She paused. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

  “I know our world is different from yours. Was my home too dim for you? Too cool?”

  “It’s not that,” said Mary, and she slowly turned around “It’s…Adikor.”

  Ponter’s eyebrow rolled up his browridge. “Do you not like him?”

  Mary shook her head. “No, no. It isn’t that. He seems nice enough.” She sighed again. “The problem isn’t with Adikor. It’s you and Adikor. It’s seeing the two of you together.”

  “He is my man-mate,” said Ponter, simply.

  “In my world, people have only one mate. I don’t care whether it’s someone of the opposite sex, or someone of the same sex.” She was about to add, “Really, I don’t”—but was afraid she would be protesting too much. “But for us to be—well, whatever it is that you and I are—while you are involved with someone else is…” She trailed off, then lifted her shoulders. “…is difficult. And to have to watch the two of you being affectionate…”

  “Ah,” said Ponter, and then, as if the first utterance hadn’t been sufficient, “Ah,” he said again. He was quiet for a time. “I do not know what to tell you. I love Adikor, and he loves me.”

  Mary wanted to ask him what his feelings were for her—but this wasn’t the time: she’d probably repelled him with her narrow-mindedness.

  “Besides,” said Ponter, “within a family, there is no ill feeling. Surely you would not feel hurt if I were showing affection to my brother or my daughters or my parents.”

  Mary considered that in silence, and, after a few moments, Ponter went on. “Perhaps it is trite, but we have a saying: love is like intestines—there is always plenty to go around.”

  Mary had to laugh, despite herself. But it was an uncomfortable honking laugh that caused tears to escape from her eyes. “But you haven’t touched me since we came here.”

  Ponter’s eyes went wide. “Two are not One.”

  Mary was quiet for a long time. “I—Gliksin women…and Gliksin men, too—we need affection all the time, not just four days a month.”

  Ponter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Normally…”

  He trailed off, and the word hung between them. Mary felt her pulse increasing. Normally, a person here would have two mates, one male and one female. A Neanderthal woman didn’t lack for affection—but for most of the month it came from her woman-mate. “I know,” said Mary, closing her eyes. “I know.”

  “Perhaps this was a mistake,” said Ponter, as much, it seemed, to himself as to Mary, although Hak dutifully translated his words. “Perhaps I should not have brought you here.”

  “No,” said Mary. “No, I wanted to come, and I’m glad to be here.” She looked at him, staring into his golden eyes. “How long is it until Two next become One?” she asked.

  “Three days,” said Ponter. “But…” he paused, and Mary blinked. “But,” he continued, “I suppose it cannot hurt anything for me to show affection to you before then.”

  He opened his massive arms, and, after a moment, Mary stepped into them.

  Mary, of course, could not stay with Ponter, for Ponter lived out in the Rim, which was the exclusive province of males. Adikor suggested the perfect solution: having Mary stay with his woman-mate, Lurt Fradlo. After all, she was a chemist, as Neanderthals defined the term—one who worked with molecules. And Mary, by that definition, was a specialized sort of chemist, focusing on deoxyribonucleic acid.

  Lurt had agreed at once—and what scientist of either world wouldn’t leap at the chance to host one from the other? And so, Ponter had Hak summon a travel cube, and Mary headed into the Center.

  The driver happened to be a female—or maybe Hak had requested that; after all, the artificial intelligence knew everything about Mary’s rape that Ponter did. Mary’s removable Companion had had Hak’s database transferred into it, and Mary made use of that fact now, conversing with the driver during the trip out.

  “Why are your cars shaped like cubes?” Mary asked. “It doesn’t seem very aerodynamic.”

  “What shape should they be?” asked the driver, who had a voice almost as low as Ponter’s and as resonant as Michel Bell’s when singing “Ol’ Man River.”

  “Well, on my world they are rounded, and—” she thought briefly of Monty Python —“they’re thin at one end, thick in the middle, and thin again at the other end.”

  The driver had short hair that was the darkest Mary had yet seen on a Neanderthal, meaning it was the color of milk chocolate. She shook her head. “Then how do you stack them?”

  “ Stack them?” repeated Mary.

  “Yes. You know, when they are not being used. We stack them one on top of the other, and fit the stacks together side by side. It cuts down on the amount of space that has to be set aside to accommodate them.” />
  Mary thought of all the land her world wasted on parking lots. “But—but how do you get at your own car when you need it, if it’s at the bottom of the stack?”

  “My own car?” echoed the driver.

  “Yes. You know, the one that belongs to you.”

  “The cars all belong to the city,” said the driver. “Why would I want to own one?”

  “Well, I don’t know…”

  “I mean, they are costly to manufacture, at least here.”

  Mary thought about her monthly car payments. “They are in my world, too.”

  She looked out at the countryside. Off in the distance, another travel cube was flying along, going in the opposite direction. Mary wondered what Henry Ford would have thought if someone had told him that, within a century of releasing the Model T, half the surface area in cities would be devoted to accommodating the movement or storage of cars, that accidents with them would be the leading cause of death of men under the age of twenty-five, that they would put more pollution into the air than all the factories and furnaces in the world combined.

  “Then why own a car?” asked the female Neanderthal.

  Mary shrugged a little. “We like to own things.”

  “So do we,” she said. “But you cannot use a car ten tenths a day.”

  “Don’t you worry about the guy who used the car before you having, well, left it a mess?”

  The driver operated the control sticks she was holding, turning the cube so that it would avoid a group of trees ahead. And then she simply silently held up her left arm, as if that explained it all.

  And, thought Mary, she guessed it did. No one would leave behind garbage, or damage a public vehicle, if they knew that a complete visual record of what they’d done was being automatically transmitted to the alibi archives. No one could steal a car, or use a car to commit a crime. And the Companion implants probably kept track of everything you’d brought with you into the car; there would be little possibility of accidentally leaving your hat behind and having to track down the same car you’d used before.

  It had grown very dark. Mary was astonished to realize that the car was no longer passing through barren countryside, but was now in the thick of Saldak Center. There were almost no artificial lights; Mary saw that the driver wasn’t looking out the transparent front of the travel cube, but rather was driving by consulting a square infrared monitor set into the panel in front of her.