Daughter of Elysium
Page 4
A man and a goddess were approaching, too tall and large-boned to be Elysian. “Here are the people who really run the lab,” Tulle explained. “Our students, Onyx and Draeg. The Elysian students will send their mates to see you tomorrow.”
Draeg was the L’liite “outdoorsman” Alin had mentioned. A tall fellow with unruly auburn hair, well developed in the shoulders, Draeg wore a rough knee-length tunic, his legs bare. He would have made a scandal in Tumbling Rock, in front of the goddesses; what if one demanded his favors?
Unconcerned, Draeg grinned and patted Sunflower on the head. “That’s some kid you’ve got, Brother,” he said in L’liite, a language Blackbear knew well. Bronze Skyans all spoke L’liite, for most of their ancestors had emigrated from crowded L’li.
“A sweetheart,” agreed Onyx, the senior student, a goddess from Valedon. She raised a hand to touch Sunflower, who in turn reached for the flashing red stone hung at her neck. Her ringers were webbed in between; Blackbear tried not to stare, intrigued though he was by this sign of Sharer ancestry. Intermarriage between the twin worlds must be common. “Watch out, little imp,” Onyx told Sunflower, “or Tulle will nab you for the Preserve.”
“Hey, don’t scare him off,” Draeg protested. “Just when we need the help.”
“Of course not.” Onyx touched his arm. “I’ve been here the longest; any machines you need to get working, just ask.”
Blackbear smiled bravely.
“Come along,” beckoned Tulle, “we must show you Draeg’s latest discovery. You recall the heartless gene? This new heartless mutant develops an ageless heart, yet it makes fertile gonads, too.”
The first heartless mutants had failed to develop hearts, but this one must be a subtler change. And the secondary effect on the gonads was most interesting. Developmental genes rarely had a single function; rather, they acted on different body parts at different stages.
“I can’t wait to get started,” Blackbear told the Director as they walked down the corridor, passing doors that appeared and disappeared disconcertingly. “Must I really only work three days a week?” The Elysian “Right of Visitation,” which restricted the work week, seemed a pointless hindrance.
Tulle laughed, as if he had told a good joke.
“As a foreigner,” Onyx explained, “you can get an extra work day if you cite ‘religious law.’ It does help pay the bills.”
Draeg intoned, “We are all most religious, around here.”
Onyx gave a low chuckle. “The cost of living’s notorious in Helicon. But Foreign Affairs set you up, didn’t they?”
At that moment Sunflower was attempting to fly down from his shoulder and enter a door that had just appeared. Fortunately, the door turned out to be their destination at last.
The room contained a simple holostage without control panels. “The servo simulates development of the embryo,” Tulle told him. “Most longevity genes also play key roles in early development—and heartless is no exception.”
“Lights down,” ordered Draeg. The room darkened. “It’ll work this time, you’ll see.”
“The central servo came back with a brand new program,” said Onyx. “It had better work.”
“That new program’s just what I’m afraid of.” Draeg barked some more commands which completely lost Blackbear.
An image appeared, fully dimensional, about one meter tall, of a human embryo. The squarish bulb of a head was tucked under, while the limbless back section with its track of somites curled upward, ending in a pointed tail. Through the bulge of the heart, blood pulsed rhythmically.
He watched as if transfixed. The detail was breathtaking, clear enough for him to count the somites. About six or seven weeks, he guessed; the living embryo would be smaller than a fingernail.
“Let’s look at the heart,” said Tulle. “Focus in.”
Draeg spoke again to the servo. The bulging heart grew larger until it filled the stage. Its twisted tube of tissue had already ballooned into ventricles and auricles.
Tulle explained, “We can test any model by simulation. We can mix and match different alleles for each gene, and see what the model predicts. This model predicts both an ageless heart and fertile germ cells.”
Blackbear nodded. “How can you tell?”
“You can’t, at this level,” said Draeg. “You have to go subcellular.” He addressed the holostage again, this time interrupted by Onyx.
“I don’t think you want to do that,” Onyx warned. “If I were you, I’d try…” Blackbear was lost.
The image wavered and shuddered. Then it burst into a snow of light. The room went completely dark.
“Damn. Reset, will you?” came Draeg’s voice. “I said, reset.”
A whimper, then a sob, came from Sunflower. Then the child broke down altogether. “Light out,” he sobbed. “Light!”
Blackbear took the child down and tried to comfort him. The door reappeared, filling the room with light from the corridor. Still, it was no use; the child had had a long day. He had missed his nap, Blackbear realized.
“You must have overloaded the program,” Onyx was telling Draeg over Sunflower’s screaming.
“But that’s what we sent it out to fix,” said Draeg.
“Sh,” said Tulle with a stern wave of her hand. “The shonling—can’t you see he’s in trouble?”
Sunflower was still racked with sobs, his little chest heaving in and out. “Poor dear,” agreed Onyx, patting his shoulder.
From outside, bells rang. A panel opened in the wall, and the medic hovercraft appeared.
Blackbear’s mouth fell open, and he held the child close. “It’s all right,” he exclaimed. “We don’t need any ‘care.’”
Tulle eyed him closely, then she nodded. “It’s all right, off with you,” she called out to the emerging servos.
“Get lost, metalmen!” added Draeg.
“Sh, Draeg,” said Onyx.
“They’re just machines. Can’t I get out some frustration?”
“I don’t know,” said Onyx uneasily. “Those servos make me wonder sometimes.”
The medics had left by then, and Sunflower was rocking to sleep in Blackbear’s arms.
“Machines,” muttered Draeg. “You’ve got to get away from them. That’s why I live outside on a Sharer raft. Cheaper, too.”
Onyx ran a diagnostic series on the controls, calling one unintelligible command after another, with occasional input from Tulle. At last the living fetal image returned.
“It is beautiful,” Blackbear said at last. “Where do you take it next?”
“We’ll test our model in vivo,” said Tulle at last. “Not in humans; not just yet.”
Onyx said, “We’ll test it in the simian hybrid first. The Elysian students culture the simian embryos. You’ll meet them tomorrow.”
Draeg frowned fiercely and looked away. Of course, Blackbear thought, there would have to be testing in humans eventually; but how does an embryo give informed consent?
Chapter 3
IT WAS WELL PAST SIX WHEN BLACKBEAR GOT HOME. The door to the apartment oozed open at the sight of him. With a sigh he swung Sunflower down; thumb in mouth, the child curled up on the floor, half asleep. The imprisoned trainsweep scurried over, but for once the child took no notice.
A column of light remained above the holostage, just as before he had left that morning.
“Raincloud?”
No one answered. Raincloud and Hawktalon must still be out. Why would the holostage be on? It still displayed the butterfly garden where Alin had called. “Goddess—did I leave it running all day? House,” he called in Elysian, “why didn’t you turn that off when we left?”
“If I failed to hear your request, Citizen, please report my defect to—”
“Never mind. Please turn it off, now. How many credits did it cost?”
The holostage went dark. “No cost.”
That was right; he had received the call from Alin. Relieved, he took a step toward the kitchen.
As he moved closer, the panel came to life with an ocean scene. Great white-tipped waves rolled in the distance, and the roar of the spray shook his feet. The image was so designed that as he moved, the view in the “window” moved with him, just like a real ocean in the distance outside a window.
“Greetings,” spoke the window. “I am a climate window, a greeting-gift from Citizen Alin Anaeashon, mate of Citizen Tulle Meryllishon. Please choose your view. I have many selections: sunrise and sunset, of twenty types; snowcapped mountains, sunlit or rain, eighteen varieties; plains with stampeding herds of ten different exotic animals; volcanoes, gentle or explosive…”
Blackbear shook his head in amazement, as the list droned on with the rolling waves.
“…Citizen Alin Anaeashon hopes that I prove pleasing to an outdoorsman like yourself. If not, I may be returned or exchanged at The Golden Fritillary for six hundred credits. Please choose your view.”
A touching gesture, thought Blackbear, recalling Tulle’s mate with some warmth. But what if he had to reciprocate? Where would he get that kind of cash?
He returned to the kitchen. “Sunflower, what do you want for dinner?”
“Grill-cheese,” came a sleepy voice.
The “kitchen,” too, was a talking window where things appeared—real food, at least. If only the “climate window” in the sitting room could provide real mountain grass, too, he would feel much better.
“House?” he called. “May we please have two servings of grilled cheese?” He could have had himself a good steak, he realized, but he was too tired to bother changing the order. Raincloud still had not come home; she would be cross from traveling so late past dinner.
“What kind of cheese, Citizen?”
“Goat cheese.”
“We have two hundred varieties of goat cheese, from five different planets—”
“Just plain goat cheese.” He waved his hand aimlessly. “The local brand. Same for the bread.” He frowned to himself. Where would the housing unit store two hundred varieties of goat cheese?
“Local butter, too?”
The climate window in the sitting room was talking again, asking Sunflower to choose a view. Sunflower watched mesmerized, tracing the surface of the ocean waves with his right hand. His other hand pulled absently at his left ear.
The child was prone to infections of the middle ear. Concerned, Blackbear pulled out his otoscope and peered inside both of Sunflower’s ears. Each ear contained a healthy pink cavern of little hairs, surrounding the pearly disk of the eardrum.
“A visitor, Citizen,” intoned the house.
Blackbear jumped up and went to the door. There stood a blond goddess in a pink gown and train bordered with swallowtails; a Papilishon. Behind her, the sky-ceiling had darkened. Blackbear wished he had checked first; it was unwise to be seen with a strange goddess after dark.
“Greetings,” she said. “My apologies; I’ve come at last for my mate’s trainsweep. Thanks so much for reporting it.”
The runaway trainsweep was still there, all right, just inside the sitting room. It immediately scurried back to the bedrooms.
Blackbear breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry for the trouble; I did my best, you know—”
“Oh, no, the fault is ours entirely. We ordered a new brand of trainsweeps; we should have stuck with the Chrysolite House as usual. Is there anything we can do for you? My mate, you know, is a Helishon of nine hundred years. He’d love to show you the city; he knows all our history, from the day the Heliconian Doctors landed.”
“Thanks, I’ll remember.” Blackbear realized he had been right at first, after all; the trainsweep’s owner, with the free-flowing hair, had been a man.
Blackbear went and dug out the trainsweep, which he found hiding beneath Sunflower’s bed. Despite himself, he felt sorry for the machine. Was he going crazy? He would never get used to this place.
The Elysian goddess sighed. “I’ll have it retrained.” She bent over and pressed something beneath the machine’s underside. Its gentle humming died. Another trainsweep left her train to come over and hitch the runaway to its back, then returned to its position behind her. She bowed. “My mate will hear glowing reports of you. And remember, if you ever want a tour…” She turned to go, her train sweeping around forming a wide half-moon.
“Doggie!” wailed Sunflower from behind his father’s legs. “I want Doggie…”
“Sh, dear; dinner must be ready.” But the child was inconsolable. Completely worn out, he would not eat his dinner; it was all Blackbear could do to sing him to sleep in his darkened bedroom. The child’s head nestled on his shoulder, its scent sweeter than perfume. In the darkness thoughts of the day past whirled in his head, the giant embryo looming in the shadows with its ageless heart. Where learning is shared, the waterfall breaks through…This work would be even more exciting than he had hoped.
Footsteps sounded faintly outside the room. Raincloud and Hawktalon were home at last. Blackbear gently laid Sunflower in his bed and adjusted a pillow on the floor in case he rolled out, for he had only just switched from the crib.
In the kitchen, Raincloud sat at the table looking tired. Blackbear gave her a good hug and massaged her shoulders. “You must have had quite a day. What can I get for you?”
She shrugged. “How about veal stuffed with mushrooms and water chestnuts.” Raincloud had taken advantage of this “kitchen” in no time. How did it ever prepare things so fast? he wondered. It was fine for now, but he hoped she would not be spoiled for his own cooking back home.
“And you?” he asked Hawktalon, wrestling her arm.
“Mm—how about chocolate marble cake with ice cream?”
“She’s been eating ice cream all day.” Raincloud sounded exasperated.
“Ice cream?” Blackbear asked. “At the Nucleus?”
“We never got to the Nucleus.”
“Never? What happened?”
“We toured the entertainment district all day with Iras.”
Iras Letheshon was the mate of Sub-Subguardian Verid Anaeashon. Verid’s mate was not a man but a goddess like herself. Such pairings were common among Elysians, between men as well. Blackbear could see it for goddesses, but he found it hard to imagine a man worshiping another man.
“The circus, the arcade, the swallowtail garden,” Raincloud ticked off her fingers. “Iras said the Sub-Subguardian was booked solid all day, with one ambassador or another.”
Hawktalon wandered off into the sitting room. The climate window introduced itself and commenced its catalogue of views.
Blackbear relayed Raincloud’s request for veal to the house, making it a double order. “That’s a shame,” he sympathized. “These Elysians are a chatty lot. You’d think they’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Iras had plenty to do. She’s a loan officer for Bank Helicon; she kept getting calls the whole time, to finance solar power satellites on L’li and servo factories on Valedon. A servo warned her now and then about Visiting Hours.”
Blackbear grinned. If Elysium was famous for one thing, it was banking. Where else could you pay back a loan over two centuries? “Well, I’m sure the Sub-Subguardian will see you tomorrow,” he said. “Alin called her a ‘rising star.’”
Raincloud stared thoughtfully, then nodded. “Iras said the same.”
The veal was as good as it smelled. He savored each forkful, thinking that onions and garlic might make it even better next time.
A thunderous roar shook the floor beneath their feet. An earthquake? Blackbear leaped to his feet, and Raincloud ran out to fetch Sunflower to safety.
But there was no “safety,” trapped as they were in this sphere of a city. For that matter, how could there be an earthquake?
In the sitting room, the climate window displayed a massive volcanic eruption, complete with chunks blasting out of the mountainside and red lava spraying into the sky. Hawktalon had her hands clapped over her ears, jumping with glee, her beads dancing around her head.
“Quiet,” he yelled.
The room was silenced. The window display continued its lurid eruptions, giving viewers the unnerving sense of flying in an airplane right overhead. “How dare you, Hawk,” he exclaimed. “You’ll wake your little brother.”
She giggled. “I only did what it told me, Daddy. ‘Please choose your view.’”
Raincloud came in, cradling Sunflower. “That’s not half-bad,” she said, admiring the window. “Does it do earthquakes, too?”
“Earthquakes of ten kinds, Citizen, and three tidal waves,” said the window.
“What a great idea for earthquake drills. We must keep the kids in shape, after all.” She settled in the chair and undid her breastflap for Sunflower to nurse.
“We can’t keep this gift,” Blackbear told her. “It cost six hundred credits. How could we reciprocate?”
“They won’t expect such expense from us. They think we’re dirt poor, by their standards. Besides, we’ll have to entertain Alin here; he’ll see if you kept it.” She thought it over. “Still, it would dishonor our clan not to reciprocate. I’ll come up with something.”
After Sunflower dozed off, Raincloud beckoned Hawktalon to come up for a token sip. Then, looking up at Blackbear, she added mischievously, “Your turn.”
“I’ll have mine later,” he returned with a smile. He was feeling better, settling in; they were still a family, even so far from their clan.
HE WATCHED RAINCLOUD SOAPING HER BACK AND ARMS before bed, a truly divine sight. “I should redo your braids again.”
“Tomorrow, let’s plan on it. You can do Hawktalon’s, too. I’ll make sure I get home earlier.” She frowned; something was on her mind. “Blackbear…I think they want me to leave Hawktalon home.”
His fingers tightened. “Did they say that?”
“Iras didn’t say, but you know, I can read people.” Raincloud got out of the bath, and Blackbear wrapped a towel around her. “Iras kept on talking about her shon, and how Hawktalon would enjoy it with all their activities.”