“You were able to figure that out?”
“It was a small thing, Nita—easier than to learn your words or to see into your thoughts.”
Nita tried to feel reassured. The mind, she hoped, would not fail again, and Llipel would be here to repair it if it did. “What happened after that?”
“Our time of togetherness was passing, but much remained for us to learn in this place. We stayed, but in separate places. We do not meet, not even at our ship when we fetch food. Even talk with Llare over the screen is hard for me.”
“What about me?” Nita said. Llipel had revealed more about herself than she ever had before, but Nita was impatient for an answer to her earlier question. “Why am I here? Did the mind tell you to go to the cold place for me?”
Llipel pulled at the fur of her face once more; Nita was afraid that she might not reply.
“No,” Llipel answered. “The screens had told me that place was important, but I did not know why. I went inside; I spoke. A voice told me it was time to select, but I do not remember how I answered. I saw many receptacles along one wall, and a light under one of them went out. By a chamber bound to that receptacle by a tube, another light was shining. The voice said that a small being was now growing there, that it had to be taken from the chamber at another time. I was very frightened then. I ran from the cold room.”
Llipel was tugging at her face so forcefully that Nita feared she might tear out some of her fur. She touched her guardian’s arm gently. Llipel lowered her hands, then folded her arms.
“Somehow I calmed myself,” Llipel said. “I questioned the screens. The mind told me that a creature was growing inside that chamber, and that I had caused this to happen. If I did not return for it, that creature would die. I told Llare of what I had done, and Llare—But I cannot speak of that.” She paused. “I learned from the screens of how to care for one of your kind, and went back for you at the proper time.”
“Then you—”
“Do you see why I could not tell you this before?” Llipel swatted at the air with her claws, then retracted them. “You live because of my mistake. I did not want you to know this when you were smaller and more helpless. You needed to trust me if I was to care for you.”
“You didn’t know,” Nita said. “It wasn’t your fault.” Nonetheless, the story dismayed her. She had hoped there was some reason for her life; now it appeared that her existence was no more than an accident.
“I took you from the cold room. Your name is from words the voice in the cold place gave to me—it said many words, but ‘Nita’ was one of them, and it seemed to be a name. It was hard to care for you. You let out many cries, and some foods I gave you came out of your mouth again. I made cloths for your bottom parts from things I found in one room. I learned what foods to feed you and how to clean you in water.” Llipel shuddered. “I gave you what the mind calls affection—that means, I think, a time to hold you and soothe you with my voice. Many times, I thought you might die, but you live, and I have learned. I think sometimes that is why I am here, to learn, but I do not know why.”
An idea was forming in Nita’s mind, one so startling that at first she could hardly accept it. “You said the cold place has many receptacles,” she said slowly. “It means—” She pushed the tray of uneaten fruit away. “There may be others! You said there were more. We could bring them out, Llipel. I could have a friend.”
“No!” Llipel leaned forward; her claws were out, scratching at the tiles. “We do not know their purpose, why they are there.” Her usually even voice had risen. “If others are taken out, we cannot know what will come of it.”
“But you said you don’t remember why you came to this world. Maybe they were left here for you.”
Llipel sat up straight. “That cannot be. I do not remember what was before, but the mind of my ship knew little of this world before I came here. I do not think my kind knew yours.”
“But you don’t know. Maybe they went to another world, and they’re going to come back.” Nita glanced at the mower as it floated over the grass. “Why would they leave robots here to take care of everything? Why does the mind watch over this place? Why would they leave the cafeteria to feed me? Why didn’t they take the ones in the cold place with them? They must be coming back someday. They’ll come back, and then—”
“Why, why. You keep saying why. You must wait for the answers to come—I see how disordered you become when answers come too soon.” Llipel rose to her feet in one swift movement. “They will never return.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You must not ask me why. It is not something you can know now.”
“Knowing can’t be worse than not knowing,” Nita said.
“I try to make up for my mistake. I learn more than would have come to me without this mistake.” Llipel was clearly struggling with her words now. “You bring sorrow to yourself and problems to me by hoping that your kind will come here.”
“Why? Why can’t I have a friend? Why do I have to be shut up here? What’ll I do if the mind fails again? If my people don’t come here, I’ll go and look for them. I’ll—”
“Nita, there may come a time—” Llipel shook her body. “I cannot say more now.”
“I’m sick of hearing about times for this and times for that! You never tell me anything I want to know! I hate you!”
Llipel gazed at her calmly, as if puzzled by this outburst. Then she turned around slowly and left the garden.
Nita was afraid to follow Llipel inside right away, even though she had little to fear from her guardian, who had always been gentle with her. Llipel had explained more to her than she ever had before, but Nita had not been satisfied with that.
Why wasn’t she more like Llipel, able to accept what answers she was given and to wait until the time came for more answers? Having replies to some questions only raised others in her mind that demanded answers immediately.
She stood up, adjusted the towel around her hips, and went inside. As she hurried down the hall, Llipel suddenly emerged from the cafeteria.
Nita swallowed and looked down. “I guess I shouldn’t have said I hated you.”
“That is a strong word. Is the feeling as strong?”
Nita nodded. “But I don’t hate you, Llipel. I was angry, that’s all.”
“Then the time for hate is past. I did something else for you to mark this day, but you did not let me tell it before. Come into the food room. You ask for a friend. There is a friend inside for you.”
Nita trembled with anticipation as she walked toward the cafeteria and wondered what she would find. The door slid open, revealing a room filled with tables and chairs. Slots with buttons beneath them lined the walls; the recycler stood in a corner near a large screen.
She saw no one at first, then heard a soft, mewing sound. A tiny furred creature huddled under a table, next to a bowl of milk. Nita gazed into its green eyes, then crept up to it and patted its gray fur gently. It mewed again and rubbed against her leg.
“What is it?” Nita asked. “Is it a small one of your kind?” But it couldn’t be, she thought. It had a tail, and thin whiskers on either side of its nose, while Llipel had no whiskers or tail. Its mouth was too wide, its face was narrower in shape, and its ears stuck out from its head instead of lying flat against it.
“It is not one of my kind. It was in another part of the cold room. A voice called it an animal subject. It was not in a chamber like yours but lay in an enclosed cell next to others of its kind. Other strange creatures are there as well.”
Nita knelt next to the small animal. “Should you have taken it?”
“I questioned the voice carefully. It said that the purpose of these creatures was to see if they could live again after being taken from their cold cells. I thought there could be no harm in bringing one to you. It is called a cat.”
The cat lapped at the milk. Nita sat down next to it, entranced. “Does it have a name?”
“I did not hear one.”
“A cat,” Nita said. The cat sprawled next to her and poked at the air with its tiny paws.
“The voice said that some of your kind lived with these creatures, but they cannot speak and think as you do. I have asked how to care for it and learned what I could before reviving it. You wanted a friend. Will you be satisfied now?”
“I think so,” Nita said, trying to believe that she had a new friend at last. Llipel must have been planning this surprise for some time. She would show her guardian that she was grateful. Llipel, she supposed, only wanted what was best for her; she would try to remember that.
4
One of the west wing’s doors was open. Nita had been unable to sleep and had come to the cafeteria for some food; she noticed the open door as she was about to sit down near the windows. She set down her tray and stared at the narrowing band of light until the door slid shut.
That same door had opened the day before, when she was in the garden waiting for Llipel. That day had marked the beginning of Nita’s fifteenth year of life, and Llipel had gone to fetch some of Nita’s favorite foods from the cafeteria. The door had closed again before Nita could reach it.
Llare must have opened it. Nita moved closer to the windows. Why was Llipel’s companion hiding behind the door instead of speaking to her over the screen?
The door was opening again; Nita squinted, unable to see clearly through the darkness. Part of a head was silhouetted against the light for a moment, as though Llare had stooped to peer out, and then the light vanished. She thought of waking Llipel to ask her what Llare might be doing, but dismissed the thought. Llipel slept only every three or four nights but, when she did, was groggy if awakened too soon.
Llipel would not want her near the west wing. Her guardian had been quite firm about that yesterday during their celebration, when Nita had again begged her to allow more readings from the library or a chance to explore more of the Institute and its grounds. Llipel allowed her more freedom only grudgingly, then expected Nita to be grateful for what little she was granted. She had not shouted at her guardian so much in days, and this had been the worst of her recent outbursts.
She sat down, trying to decide what to do. She had caused Llipel enough trouble lately, with her harsh remarks and her sulking. She could not even feel sorry about that. Being calm and reasonable gained her little, since that only made Llipel think things were fine as they were. She wondered if her moods had something to do with the changes that had come to her.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Beate had told her nearly two years before. Nita was not reassured by the image’s customary smile. She had been speaking to Beate more often since her body, instead of simply growing taller, had begun to change in unexpected ways.
“Are you sure?” Nita asked.
“You’ve read some of the biology records,” Beate responded, “yet it seems you haven’t understood them as well as you should have. You’re starting to become a woman. That’s why your breasts have started to grow, and why you’ve begun to bleed. This happens to all girls when they begin to mature.”
“She does not have a failing in the body?” Llipel said. She was sitting on the floor of the conference room with Nita, gazing intently at the large screen.
“No. There’d be something the matter if she didn’t start showing these signs soon.” Beate stood up, walked around her desk, and perched near the corner. “You may feel strange, almost as if your body doesn’t belong to you sometimes, but you should welcome these changes.”
Nita shook back her hair. She had known changes would come, but she had not expected to feel so clumsy and disfigured when they did.
“Do you have any questions?” Beate asked.
Nita glanced at her guardian. “I see this is a new time for Nita,” Llipel said to the screen. “Tell us what you can of this time.”
Beate began by speaking of ovulation and went on to talk of how Nita’s body was preparing her to bring young into the world. Nita was familiar with most of the terms Beate used but had never really thought of how they would apply to her.
Llipel seemed enthralled, as she always was when learning something new. “I have heard words about this before,” she said, “but did not see it clearly. And this time when Earth’s kind are ready for their young—is that when they came here to offer their seed?”
Beate’s hazel eyes widened as she arched her brows. “Some did so, but that wasn’t the only way, or even the usual fashion, in which people reproduced.” She spoke then of how a man and a woman would come together.
“I see,” Llipel said when Beate was finished. “I do not think this can be true of my kind, for I do not seem to have such parts in my body. Our young must enter their world in another way.”
Nita wished Llipel hadn’t said that. Her words made Nita feel even more uneasy with herself.
Llipel leaned forward. “And does this time come often for two of your kind to be together?”
“The time of a woman’s ovulation is when she can become pregnant,” Beate replied, “but that wasn’t the only time people engaged in sexual acts. People also came together in this way when no children were wanted and took pleasure in the act.”
Nita was appalled; if this was how her kind had reproduced themselves, she could understand why some had chosen to come to the Institute instead. “I can’t believe anyone would enjoy that,” she said.
“But they did,” Beate said. “They enjoyed it very much, Nita. It was a way to show love and to share that love with another.”
“Love,” Llipel murmured. “It is another of your strong words.”
“In fact,” Beate continued, “some people had contraceptive implants so that they could share love without the possibility of a child. There is a room in the tower where such implants can be found for both men and women, so that each partner can decide when he or she is ready to become a father or mother. The screen can show you how to embed such an implant under the skin of your arm—it’s really very simple.”
Nita shuddered. Llipel was studying her, as if trying to see how Nita was reacting to all of this. “You do not want such closeness now,” her guardian said.
Nita shook her head. “No. It wouldn’t matter even if I did.”
Llipel’s dark eyes widened a little. “Perhaps it was not time for you to hear about all of this.”
Repulsed as Nita had felt at hearing Beate’s talk, she was later unable to put it out of her mind. At times, she could even long to feel the arms of one of her own people around her.
It was pointless for her to have this changing body, to feel such odd and disturbing urges. She had thought that such feelings meant that a time for togetherness was approaching, but for Llipel, togetherness seemed to mean a time for communication and companionship, not a time to share what Beate called love. Llipel had worried that the changes coming to Nita might make her ill, but Beate had put those worries to rest. Nita could not bring herself to discuss her longings with Llipel, who would find them difficult to understand. These new feelings were another quality that made her think something was wrong with her.
She would have no young unless her people returned to the Institute. No man lived to provide her with seed; there would be no small one of her own kind to raise. Beate and Ismail had told her that not all of their people had chosen to have young. She might have become resigned to that if there had been a companion for her, someone to ease the loneliness that even her guardian and her cat could not dispel.
These thoughts had overwhelmed Nita during the celebration marking her fifteenth year. She found herself raging at Llipel for giving her life and then condemning her to this lonely existence. Llipel had watched her silently before going off to speak with Llare over a screen. Nita had grown even angrier at that. Llipel reacted that way too often lately, listening as Nita berated her, then going off for yet another conversation with Llare. Perhaps Llipel’s time for togetherness with her old companion was approaching.
She stood up. Llare might be w
aiting for Nita to approach her first; perhaps opening the door was meant as a sign that Nita would be welcome in that wing.
She left the cafeteria and rounded the corner. Her cat was prowling in the hall near the exit; as the door opened, the animal darted into the garden just ahead of her. Nita took a breath as the door closed, wondering if Llare had seen her and was waiting.
The cat rubbed against her legs. The furry creature was a female; the screens had told her that fact. “Dusky.” She crooned the name as she leaned over to scratch the cat behind the ears; Dusky often seemed as restless as she. Maybe Dusky was lonely, too.
She crept through the darkness. The sky was clear, the moon a thin crescent in the sky. Once she had shied away from entering the garden at night, had felt uneasy in a place where she could not summon light with a few words to a screen, but now she could welcome the darkness and imagine that the shadows cloaked other people.
The path’s flat tiles were smooth against her bare feet. She shivered in the cool night air and wished she had put on one of the white coats or blue coveralls that were the only clothing she had ever found in the east wing. She kept near the trees along the path until she was only a few paces from the door.
“Llare?” she called out tentatively. Llare might be hoping for companionship now; she might even allow Nita to use the library in her wing.
The door began to slide open. She held her breath. As the opening widened, Dusky suddenly bounded past her and scampered toward the light. Nita leaped after the cat, stubbed her toe, and cried out harshly at the pain. The opening narrowed; Dusky ran into the hallway just before the door closed behind her.
Nita stumbled toward the door. “Llare!” she shouted as she struck the door with her fist. “Open the door! Give me back my cat!” She pounded the door again, certain that Llare could hear her. “Open this door!”
Alien Child Page 3
