Alien Child (9 page)

“But you didn’t know any better.”

“Does that make it all right?” He cleared his throat. “We might hurt Llare and Llipel. Have you thought of that? Maybe when our violent time comes, we’ll go after them.”

Nita tried to smile. “That wouldn’t be easy. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of their claws.” She studied the boy, trying not to stare at him this time. Somehow she could not imagine him being deliberately cruel, whatever their people had been like.

Sven shifted on his couch. “You know, I’ve never seen Llare use his claws for anything except grooming himself and me, or poking at something, or combing my cat when Tanj lets him, which isn’t often. I don’t think they know anything about fighting.” He shook his head. “There’s another thing. Now that we’ve met, and we’re older, they might leave. They have a ship, and this isn’t their world. It might be like their time of separateness—they might feel that the time’s come to leave.”

Nita was silent. What purpose would there be to her life then? Llipel had taken pleasure in her companionship and in guiding her. Nita’s existence might be the result of her guardian’s mistake, but Llipel had clearly taken a bit of joy in raising her. Each was separated from others of her own kind, but their companionship had eased that loss a little. She could know that her existence had given Llipel some solace.

But what would happen if Llipel and Llare left the Institute? She and Sven would have no purpose. They would learn what they could from the library, knowledge that had no goal except passing the time until death. They might leave this place, but would find no other people. They might have closeness that would end in a fight. They could go to the cold place and revive other companions, but if others like them lived, they might only bring more death to this world.

“Maybe we’re the ones who’ll have to leave the Institute,” she said. “I’d do that before I’d hurt Llipel, whatever secrets she’s kept.” Her own impatience and growing distrust might push her into acting against her guardian; perhaps suspicion and fear were the first signs of her kind’s violent time.

Sven stood up. “Come on. I should show you how the catalogue works.”

She shook her head. “I want to see some of what you found—about the wars and what our people did. You can show it to me now.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“If I see the worst about our people and get it over with, I’ll be prepared for anything else. Maybe it’s better to see it instead of imagining all kinds of things.”

“If that’s what you want.” He picked up his screen and sat down next to her.

Sven was murmuring to his screen, speaking of the records he wished to show. The first images revealed winged objects soaring over barren land and striking targets; others showed beams shooting out from globes that seemed to be orbiting Earth. A voice spoke of devices that could irradiate a city and kill its inhabitants, while leaving most of the buildings unmarked; another spoke of chemicals that poisoned land and water, and of microbes that could spread disease. Chemical symbols and images of microbes flickered on the screen. She had not imagined that there were so many ways to kill.

Images of large vehicles with treads were now moving across her screen, followed by helmeted figures carrying heavy rods. “That’s how wars seemed to start,” Sven said. “They’d use their smaller weapons first, ones that could kill only a few people or bring down a few aircraft. They’d destroy part of a city with bombs or try to get control of the other side’s important places. They fought on the water, too, in ships that floated and ones that could go under the water.” She saw winged vessels rise from what looked like a floating platform.

They had sent death into the air, over land, into Earth’s oceans. She shuddered; they had surrounded themselves with death. “Didn’t they see what they were doing?” she said faintly. “Why couldn’t they stop?”

“They would, after a while, and then they’d fight some more. When they couldn’t kill enough people with smaller weapons, they’d use more destructive ones. Sometimes they’d get scared of what they were doing, and sometimes they didn’t seem to care after a while. It must have been like a game to some of them, the ones who weren’t there to see people actually die. They’d just see diagrams on a screen, or people who might as well have been just images. Maybe that’s how their violent time made them see others.”

She closed her eyes, hating what she was.

“Have you seen enough?” Sven asked.

“Is that the worst of it?”

“No.” His voice was strained. “I think the worst for me were the last images the mind received before it lost contact with the outside.”

“Then I’ll look at those, too.”

He touched her arm lightly for a moment. “Nita—”

“Go on. Call them up.”

He muttered to his screen. She saw what might have been a room, crowded with people; many were lying on the floor. Their faces were disfigured with sores or peeling skin; a few were only children. “These people are dying of a disease caused by a biological weapon,” the mind’s toneless voice said. “There is no one to help them, and no antidote for their disease.”

The room disappeared; she was gazing at a group of people fleeing through a hallway. Walls buckled around them; she caught a glimpse of a woman trying to shield a child before a boulder crushed them. “A more primitive weapon is destroying that city,” the mind said, “one that—”

She could take no more. She jumped to her feet and hurled the screen across the room. Her body was shaking; she was too stunned to cry. Hands gripped her wrists; she struggled, then leaned against the boy.

“I wish you hadn’t seen it,” he said.

“I had to know.” She looked up at him and saw her despair reflected in his eyes. “It couldn’t have ended that way. Some of them must have seen what was happening and stopped it. If the mind didn’t see the rest, then maybe—”

“Then why haven’t any of them come here? They’re gone, Nita. Maybe we should be grateful for that.” He released her and stepped back. “If our violent time comes, it’ll be better if we’re alone.”

“I won’t let it come. I won’t let myself be like that.” She sat down once more. Llipel and Llare must have seen these images and learned what they meant from the mind, yet they had allowed her and Sven to live. Did they hope or believe that she and the boy could avoid such brutal actions? Or were they simply waiting until that time came to act? Gentle though they were, they might be able to defend themselves if necessary; perhaps they were already prepared to do so. She could not know what other secrets they might be hiding.

“I’ve seen the worst,” she said, trying to steady herself. “I’ll try not to think about it too much. You can show me how to use the catalogue now.”

“Nita—”

“Show me how.”

After spending many days in the library, Nita had discovered that most of the records concerned the Institute’s work. Only a few told her much about the world outside, and these were mostly of a practical nature—works about emergency medical procedures, the plants and animals in various regions of Earth, or the supplies one might need to carry when venturing into unpopulated regions. Apparently her people had sometimes sought separateness from their kind and the dwellings they had built; that knowledge brought a bitter smile. All of Earth was unpopulated now.

Some records went into more detail about the physiology of her people and the manner in which they had reproduced. Sven had no doubt looked at such records before. The subject was one they might have discussed, but she shrank from mentioning it to him, even though she had no cause to be embarrassed about the topic. Talking to him would be easy enough, but he might want to experiment, see if it was really the wonderful experience the screen images assured her it was, and she was not ready for that.

Even so, she often felt an odd lurching in her stomach when Sven’s hand brushed against hers, or when she thought of what it might be like to press her lips to his, but she did not know where such actions might lead. Sometimes she felt warm as she thought of him, as though she were succumbing to one of the illnesses of her kind. She grew more conscious of the dark lashes around his blue eyes and the way his paler skin grew a little browner when he spent more time in the courtyard or garden.

But maybe he did not want to be any closer to her than he was already. She could understand that. What her people called love was one of their strong feelings, and could stir up other feelings she might not be able to control. Their love had not kept them from striking out at others; it seemed useless for anything except bringing young into the world. Llipel and Llare clearly had no need for love, and that might be why they seemed calm.

The few records of the life her people had led outside the Institute
seemed to be stories of people rising to positions of power, ruling others, becoming honored, or
being betrayed. Some were documents covering many hundreds of years, telling her of the rise and
decline of various groups in different regions of Earth; these were listed in the catalogue under
“History.” Others, called “Literature,” were different kinds of records, many telling only a story
of a small group of people in a particular place during a short period of time, but most of them did
little to give her a happier picture of her kind.

Her people seemed driven by passions and urges often outside their control. They made pledges and broke them, afflicted even those closest to them with lies and violence, loved and saw their love turn into indifference and hate, or become poisoned by what they called jealousy. They oppressed others of their kind and either took pleasure in that or convinced themselves it was necessary. They killed others in fits of rage, acts that were usually punished unless it was a time for war, when the same acts were praised.

Even when these stories ended happily, or the people in them relented and changed their ways, other stories told a similar painful tale all over again. Throughout all the stories, she saw hints at other tales this library did not hold, though she might not have wanted to read or view them. The emptiness of the world outside told her that the last story of her people had ended badly.

She looked at the records of the Institute itself—its plans, its hopes, the meetings of the people who had worked there, and the students who had come to learn from them. She learned that fewer had come to the Institute over the years, that others had left, that finally only the cybernetic mind remained to watch over the place. The mind had once heard the voices of other minds far away, but those voices had fallen silent long ago. It had waited, but its creators had never spoken to it again.

Nita could imagine where the people here had gone— to fight their wars, to make certain that, in the end, no one was left to remember the Institute.

Sven splashed awkwardly to the side of the pool, then climbed up a ladder. Nita glanced at him, then looked away as he reached for his towel, reminding herself that she should not stare.

She poked at the towel wrapped around her wet hair, then pulled on her coverall. She had been teaching the boy how to swim, and he was now able to stay afloat, but his kicks and strokes remained clumsy. When they swam, or played games over the screens, or talked about some of the things their guardians had told them, they could be easier with each other. She could forget about what she knew for a while and could be grateful for a companion like herself.

The weather was warmer today. Sven tied his towel around his waist and sat down near their tray of food. She opened a container of soup, waited for it to warm up, then lifted it to her lips.

Sven was sipping his soup without slurping it today. Apparently he had also been getting instructions from the images about how to eat in another’s company. It was a skill their guardians had never taught them.

“Would you care for a sandwich?” he said as he held out a package to her.

“No, thank you,” she replied, wondering how their people had been able to function at all with all the rules they had carried in their heads.

“The warmer weather’ll be here soon,” Sven said. “The trees will be getting greener again.”

She had never paid much attention to the changes of season. Colder weather meant racing for the east wing after leaving the warm water of the pool, while hot weather meant she could lie on the tiles until she was dry. She would have to pay more attention to the seasons if they were ever to explore the outside.

“Do you really think we’ll ever know enough to go into the forest?” she asked.

“Why shouldn’t we? The library has records. Our people were able to live in forests and other places in their earliest times. It’s one of the few good things about them, that they were able to find ways to survive even when it must have seemed almost impossible.”

“And look what it led to,” she said.

“At least they weren’t helpless. They didn’t have to depend on a mind to take care of them. Llare and Llipel could have taken us outside. It’s as if they wanted us to be helpless.”

“I don’t think so,” she responded. “They’re probably as afraid of the outside as we are.” He was reminding her of her own suspicions.

Nita could not shake the feeling that her guardian was observing her more closely. Llipel was often staring at Nita when she awoke, as if she had been watching her all through the night. Occasionally, she had seen Llipel pacing near the entrance to the cold room, as if she was guarding it from Nita. Nita was authorized now; she could enter the place where she had been stored. But somehow she felt that Llipel might find a way to keep her from entering that room.