Writers of the Future Volume 31

  “Why can’t I just go with artificial insemination?” The thought of one of them touching me, or seeing me naked, nauseated me.

  “Honey, don’t you think we’ve already considered that? Your body needs to mature first. Father Isaac thinks you’ve spent too much time around the kids. He thinks the courtship rituals will expose you to male testosterone and put you back on track. Get to know them as real people. This is hard for them, too. You don’t want to disappoint them, do you? The whole colony is depending on you.”

  I swallowed my revulsion and nodded. Bekke knew how to get me to agree to almost anything.

  “And you need to eat more soy and animal protein. Are you getting enough sunlight?”

  3

  “It is not the strongest or the most intelligent who will survive but those who can best manage change.”

  — Charles Darwin

  Posted in the communal dining hall of the grounded SS Dominion

  This is Dawah,” Gehnny announced the next morning. Like me, she had chosen a lapid with a yellow stripe. She didn’t want to let poor Dawah out of her hands for even a moment, so already the creature only had five legs remaining. Based on Gehnny’s sole previous attempt at animal husbandry, Dawah would likely not survive his first molt.

  We were seated in the girls bunk room in the children’s dormitory; a squat, one-story structure made of local stone, cement, and salvage from the Dominion. The building housed separate boys’ and girls’ sleeping and bathing quarters, a communal living room set up with video ports connected to the SS Dominion’s instructional archives, and a number of spare storage rooms, one of which had been converted into the raising room for the baby lapids.

  From her perch on the top bunk, Rae eyed my baby lapid with barely concealed contempt. “I can’t believe you’re keeping another one of those blasted things this year.”

  Blasted was not an adult-approved word, but I didn’t say anything. Now that she was officially a woman, Rae seemed determined to rub my nose in it. I cuddled the creature protectively against my chest. “What’s wrong with them?”

  She whiffled her throat gills with no little scorn. “When are you going to grow up, Ettie? You are so immature. The only reason they’re letting you participate in a womanhood ceremony is because you’re so old, they don’t know what to do with you.”

  The truth in her words echoed the sting I’d felt the previous night; I could only hope the rest of the colony didn’t think the same.

  “You’re not a real woman, and you never will be. They feel sorry for you, but I don’t. I can barely stand to be around you anymore.” She heaved herself off her top bunk and stomped out.

  I stared after her, shaking my head. If anyone was immature, it was Rae. She’d always been snippy. I’d often had to bite back a retort of my own, knowing that if I said a cross word to her, she’d run off in tears and grab the nearest adult, usually Bekke or her birther, Mother Jean, and claim I’d been cruel to her.

  Bekke would frown and tell me how disappointed she was in me. Disappointing Bekke, or any of the adults was something I never wanted to do. I cherished my role as the responsible one. Bekke trusted me with the children; the whole colony did.

  But sometimes, being the example wasn’t easy.

  “What is his name?” Gehnny asked.

  After Rae’s comment, I briefly considered putting him back into the group bins, but decided against it. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

  “I’m still thinking.”

  The lapid’s stubby digits tickled across the palm of my hand. At this stage, the body was rubbery soft; not much more than a carapace, liquid brown eyes, and sticky feet.

  “Ask him.” Gehnny cradled Dawah between her cupped hands and danced across the bunk room to me. “He’ll tell you, if you ask.”

  “No, that’s just your imagination.”

  “It’s true! Dawah talks to me!”

  Gehnny often blurted out such fantasies. No one believed her, of course. Until she reached her name-day, nothing she said carried any weight. But I’d been taking care of her since infancy, and she sounded so certain. I could usually tell when she was making up a story.

  “He barely has a mouth. How can he talk?”

  She squeezed herself into my lap, her soft brown curls nestled against my neck.

  I cuddled her closer.

  “Like this.”

  She closed her eyes, held the tender creature to her lips, and kissed it. “I love you, baby lapid. Tell me your name. Mmmmm.” As she hummed, the lapid seemed to clutch at her chubby chin with its remaining limbs, as if to return the embrace.

  So cute.

  She held him close to my cheek, so I could feel a gentle vibration emanating from the creature’s carapace.

  She opened her eyes, a smile spreading ear to ear. “See? I told you, his name is Dawah!”

  Nona, an impressionable seven-year-old who’d just witnessed Rae’s rude behavior, snorted loudly. “He didn’t say anything, you ninny!” She tossed her head and stormed out of the bunk room in a perfect imitation of Rae. “And Dawah is a stupid name!”

  Gehnny’s mouth pursed into a frowning pout.

  I kissed and rocked her, soothing her wounded pride. “It’s okay, Gehnny. I believe you. And I think Dawah is a fine name.”

  She cradled the vibrating lapid against her neck. “You can do it too, Ettie. Try it.”

  I wanted to give my lapid a nice name. Names were important. Last year, it had been Mercutio. The year before, Juliet. Not Romeo; Rae would never have let me hear the end of it. Something more grown-up. Like Shakespeare, maybe. Or Navarre.

  Gehnny stared at me with such an expression of yearning, I just couldn’t disappoint her.

  “Oh all right. Do I have to kiss him?”

  Her whole face lit up. “No. You just have to hum your question at him through your lips. At least for the first few times. Until they learn to speak our language.”

  I held my palm up to my chin. The yellow-striped lapid stared at me with what could only be a terrified expression. “Like this?”

  Gehnny curled my fingers forward, forcing him closer to my mouth.

  “Breathe out softly,” she said. “And close your eyes.”

  I obeyed.

  The creature seemed to relax. It settled into the palm of my hand.

  “Now, say something nice to him.”

  I cracked an eye open to see if she was teasing, but she looked as serious as I’d ever seen her.

  The lapid tensed.

  I closed my eyes again. “It’s okay, little lapid. I won’t hurt you. I love your yellow stripe.”

  Velvety toes inched across my palm. So close, I could feel his warmth not-quite touching my lips.

  “Now ask him his name in your mind while you hum.”

  Mmm. What should I call you, little lapid. Who are you?

  The answer came almost immediately, ringing in my brain as clear as if Gehnny herself had spoken.

  Vox! Vox. Vox, Vox. Who?

  My jaw dropped in amazement. His eyes met mine, and I recognized the intelligence behind his sweet expression.

  Gehnny bounced excitedly. “What did he say?”

  I stared at him. “He said Vox. I think he wants to know my name, too.”

  I pulled him close and hummed against his rubbery skin. Mmm, I am Henrietta.

  Etta?

  Mmm. Yes.

  Like the kiss of a firebite, I felt an immediate bond with Vox. His questions were simple—not words so much, but I could understand his intention. And like a child, persistent.

  What place this?

  Is safe?

  Is food?

  He was so curious and had such a quick mind. The more we “spoke,” the faster he learned English. His questions quickly grew more sophisticated, and within a few hours,
his vocabulary improved enough so we could mind-speak in conversational English, as long as we stayed in contact with each other.

  He liked being held. The humming vibration he emitted represented a contented and receptive state of mind for him.

  The other children insisted that they could mind-speak to their lapids too, but Vox was adamant that he was not lapid. He was Tok. And Gehnny’s Dawah was Tok. And Layfe’s Botto was Tok. But lapid was not Tok.

  Only the three yellow-striped Tok seemed able to communicate, and even then, only with the child they’d bonded to. We checked the raising bins for more of the yellow-striped Toks, but found no others.

  Vox mind-speak to Etta. Botto mind-speak to Layfe. Dawah mind-speak to Gehnny. All Tok mind-speak to each other. ’Umans no mind-speak except to mind-bond Tok.

  This was huge. I couldn’t wait to tell Father Isaac and the rest that we’d found intelligent life on Hesperidee after all this time. It was fantastic! I could imagine standing next to Father Isaac as he made the announcement at dinner. He’d have his arm around me. This would be bigger even than Rae’s womanhood announcement.

  Rae would go nuts with jealousy.

  4

  “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”

  —Thomas Jefferson

  Posted in the communal dining hall of the grounded SS Dominion

  In all the excitement of communicating with Vox, I completely forgot about my new standing in the colony until dinnertime.

  Most evenings, us kids walked over from the nursery block as a group and were given our table assignments after we cleared the air locks. This ensured that all of us kids got equal time and attention from the adults, and vice versa. After being served at the buffet, we would take our assigned seat at one of ten tables for dinner.

  But when we arrived for dinner that night, a new table had been added to the room. A small one, covered with a white tablecloth and just two chairs, one of which was empty.

  As soon as he spotted me, Father Lyle rose from the other chair and hurried over to offer me his arm.

  “Good evening, Henrietta. You look, um, quite vigorous tonight.”

  My eyes searched the room, frantic for escape, but there was none. Behind me, I could hear the giggles of Gehnny and Layfe and the others, while the adults all smiled and nodded encouragingly. White-haired Father Isaac even gave me a thumbs-up.

  “I will be your dining companion this evening. Allow me to escort you to the buffet.”

  Ohgodohgodohgod.

  Dazedly, I took his proffered elbow, which brought squeals from the kids behind me.

  Father Lyle led me to the buffet table. He must’ve been worried about my stunned silence, because he leaned close and whispered into my ear.

  “Actually, Robert and I drew straws on who would get the first date with you, and I won. Tomorrow is his turn. Hope that’s okay. We can switch, if you want.”

  He smelled strongly of the herbal soap Mother Anne made of yucca, sage and rosemary. Everyone was watching us. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “No. It’s fine. I guess I’m going to have to get used to it.”

  The meal passed at a glacial pace. I kept my eyes on my plate, as every time my eyes met the gaze of my dinner companion—or worse, glanced around the dining room—I was met with broad smiles.

  Just as I thought dinner had finally come to an end, Gehnny announced that we’d found something new among the latest crop of lapid hatchlings. Talky-Toks, she called them.

  “Is this true, Henrietta?” Father Isaac, had instructed us kids to bring any new plant or animal discovery to him immediately. I should have told him before dinner.

  I stood. “Y-yes, Father Isaac. I meant to tell you.” Again, I felt the weight of everyone’s stare. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” I explained how Gehnny discovered their ability to communicate telepathically.

  “They call themselves Tok. They were left behind as dormant eggs long ago, timed to hatch when planetary conditions improved.”

  Rae tossed her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Mother Jean said.

  “No, it’s true!” Layfe shouted. “We can prove it!”

  The last pink fingers of sunset were fading from the evening sky by the time the adults finished donning their environmental gear and assembled in the main courtyard outside the kid’s dormitory. Not everyone came, but more than half the colony showed up.

  Layfe, Gehnny, and I were excited to show off our new pets. I showed Dawah a pebble I had hidden in my hand and Gehnny correctly guessed the color. Then Father Isaac tried it with other hidden objects between Layfe and Botto, and Vox and me.

  When we explained how each Tok mind-spoke to only one of us, nobody spoke. I don’t think they believed us.

  Father Isaac didn’t seem convinced, either, although he probed and petted the creatures for quite some time.

  “Hesperidee’s stone scorpions have been studied for decades. They’ve never demonstrated any signs of telepathic ability. Most likely, those abilities are coming from you kids. I’m not convinced there’s anything special about these lapids.” He took a few scraping samples of their skin and handed them back to us. “I’ll check the DNA, just to be sure.”

  “I knew it had to be a trick,” Rae said.

  “No, it’s true,” I protested. “They do speak to us. They’re from an advanced culture. They’re more intelligent than we are, even.”

  “It’s getting late.” Father Isaac said.

  Gehnny grabbed at his suit. “Ask us to ask them something else. We’ll show you.”

  Mother Jean and most of the others began to drift back to the ship, shaking their heads.

  “Please, at least let us prove their intelligence,” I begged. “Ask them something you know we don’t know.”

  He sighed. “Very well. What is the specific gravity of water on Hesperidee?”

  Vox had no answer to that, and Layfe and Gehnny both shook their heads. My heart sank.

  “I see.” Father Isaac rubbed the top of Gehnny’s head. “Perhaps we’re asking the wrong questions. Let me think on it a bit. In the meantime, I’ll analyze these samples to see if I can find anything new.”

  The rest of the kids followed the quiet adults back to the ship for the usual after-dinner stories, but Layfe, Gehnny and I headed back to the dormitory.

  Layfe cupped his hands protectively around Botto. “Why don’t they believe us, Ettie?”

  The idea gnawed at me. Admittedly, we’d brought them a pretty fantastic story, and maybe hadn’t thought out the best way to demonstrate the Tok’s abilities. But I hadn’t expected the hostile reaction in the dining hall or the tension among the adults in the courtyard when we gave our demonstration.

  And what if they had believed us? What would they have done?

  They’d have taken them away from us.

  Vox trembled in my hand. All three Tok seemed agitated by their encounter with the adults. They already thought we were huge. I could only imagine what they thought of the giants in their bulky environmental suits and helmets; or Father Isaac as he poked and scraped at them.

  “They do. Sort of. Or, at least, Father Isaac does. They just don’t understand what it’s like.”

  Having only known Vox for a few hours, I’d already accepted his mind-speak as the most natural thing in the world. Maybe not believing wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. We settled into the common room. Me, on one end of the sofalounge, with Layfe on the other end, and Gehnny on the floor between us.

  Vox, are you real? Are the Tok real? Or am I imagining you?

  What is imagine? Vox was so curious about everything.

  Imagine is wanting the stones beneat
h my feet to be soft, and thinking it is so.

  Stones are ’ard.

  Yes. Real stones are hard. Are you real, Vox. Or am I wanting you?

  Vox is real. Tok are real. Etta is real.

  That night, we spoke, mind-to-mind until dawn. I asked him about the Tok, and he explained that ’Esperidee, which in his language was referred to as a word I couldn’t pronounce, had been just one of many planets settled long ago by his people, who then evacuated after a meteor shower devastated the planet. They left behind several clutches of eggs timed to hatch at intervals after climate conditions improved.

  He asked me about the adults, and especially, Father Isaac. I explained that, no, he wasn’t my father. My father had died on Earth, long before I was conceived. I then had to explain the whole human reproductive cycle, including artificial insemination and in vitro fertilization, which, to my own embarrassment, seemed to fascinate him.

  When will you molt?

  Humans do not molt.

  You do not look like adults. When will you molt?

  I blushed. No. They birthed us, but our bodies are different. We are born helpless, but as we grow, we change and evolve by growing, not molting. We have two pairs of lungs for respiration. We have gills to breathe the atmosphere on Hesperidee and a nose to breathe oxygen of our home planet, Earth. The adults have smooth, thin skin of many colors, while our skin is thick and brown, which protects us from the suns. The hands of the adults have a thumb and four fingers, while our hands consist of only a thumb and two fused fingers. We are small and fast; and in this gravity, our bones have remained soft. The adults have birthed many other children, but only those like us survived. We are human, but we are new humans. We have evolved beyond our birthers.

  Tok also evolve, Vox told me. The first molt is the first evolution. After first molt, you will see Tok are not lapid. In the nymph stage, I will gain much in stature and be able to access more of the ancestral memories of my people. After the second molt, I will become my final form. I will be adult. I will communicate with Tok people and they will come for me.