Gods of the Greataway (19 page)

Zozula glanced at the picture. “Nice. Pretty girl.”

Manuel looked at it, and kept looking. “Who is she?” he asked at last.

“I don’t know. Joe lost the memory.”

Manuel said
slowly, “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in my life.”

“What about Belinda?” asked the Girl in surprisingly acid tones. “What about Polysitia, and all that? It seems to me you’re rather fickle, Manuel.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Manuel. He watched the painting greedily, as though he expected the model to step off the canvas. “She’s so … real.”

“Joe didn’t paint her for himself,” said Selena. “Perhaps he painted her for you, Manuel.”

“Nonsense!” said Zozula briskly. “So the artist couldn’t help you, Selena?”

“No …” Selena was still watching Manuel, and a puzzled look crossed her face. “It’s strange … From some angles, you look very much like Joe, Manuel. Older, of course. But you look the way I think Joe would have looked, if he’d ever grown up.”

“And they have the same taste in girls,” said the Girl.

“Joe was the last one you talked to?” asked Zozula. “There are no other Everlings who might know something?”

Selena thought. “Well, there’s Horst, of course, but he’s quite mad, poor fellow. I don’t suppose he has a potto.”

“We will see Horst,” said Zozula.

“We’d be wasting our time.”

“We have to explore every possibility. That’s why we’re here, Selena. We’re not implying any criticism of you. The neotenites are dying and we have to find a cure quickly, before we lose them all. We’ve come to help.”

*

Somewhat to Selena’s surprise, Zozula insisted that she sit in the center of the stage while he sat well to the side. The Girl and Manuel waited in the wings. Zozula refused to explain his strategy. “It’s best you act naturally,” he told Selena. “I know the way these Specialists’ minds work. Don’t worry if the meeting seems to be going badly. It’ll come right in the end.”

The
meeting was being held in the small theater used by the Specialists for their frequent music and dance performances; the delphids, in particular, were famous for their spectacular ballets. The theater was full. All the adult Specialists were present except for a skeleton crew attending to the ocean cow’s needs. Several hundred people faced Selena, talking quietly to one another. Probably a dozen races were represented in the audience. Each race had its traditional duties in the care of the ocean cow and the babies, and the maintenance of services.

“The meeting is open,” called Selena. For a moment she regarded the crowd, regretting that this situation had arisen, still seeing them as her friends and workers. Then Alice stood, her huge face set in a ferocious scowl, and Selena knew she faced her enemies.

“Fellow Specialists,” said Alice. “I’m speaking on behalf of our leader Brutus, who is too sick to attend this meeting. Brutus was injured saving a baby from drowning. The baby will almost certainly prove to be a neotenite, and therefore useless. Brutus risked his life needlessly, as a result of his conditioning by True Humans.” Now she turned and faced Selena. “If Brutus had died, the True Human race would stand accused of murder.”

There was a roar of agreement from the audience. Selena replied. “Brutus was not conditioned, as you call it. He received standard training for his job. You can’t blame the whole True Human race for an accident that happened to one brave man.”

“Our training may be standardized, as you say,” shouted Alice, her huge shoulders hunched, her jaw thrust forward. “But the conditioning takes place throughout our lives. You don’t allow us to have the children we want. We come of partly animal stock, and some of us have bodies equipped for multiple births — your own caracal-people, for instance. We’re built for reproduction, but you restrict us, only allowing us two children each. It’s unnatural! And what is the purpose of this restriction?” She swung round and faced her audience. “Its purpose is to foster within us an exaggerated sense of the value of children, any children — True Human children! Its purpose is to compel us to perform exactly the kind of senseless, heroic deed that almost killed my man Brutus!” Tears were running down her dark, downy cheeks and her sincerity was apparent to everyone there.

For a while the meeting was in disorder while Specialists shouted and Selena pounded with her gavel. Eventually Zozula stood and walked slowly to the center of the stage. His action had the effect of calming the audience, and when he spoke, they listened.

“I’m from Dome Azul, as you know,” he said. “There are a number of Domes on Earth, but my Dome is responsible for this planet and its breeding program.

“You’ve
probably wondered why the breeding program is set up here on this lonely world, instead of on Earth. The reason is ancient, and concerns the years when babies were produced directly in the vats, before the coming of the ocean cow. Unusual breeding experiments were carried out in those years, and it was feared that a virulent disease, or even a hostile and powerful creature, might evolve. It was decided that breeding should be carried out in isolation, as a safeguard.

“But the People Planet is not self-supporting. Crops do not grow well on your rocky, rainy island. Fishing is restricted, since the ocean cow needs all the food it can get. So almost all your food and other materials must be imported from Earth. The resources of Dome Azul are small and the present population of the People Planet stretches them to the limit. If breeding among Specialists were allowed to go uncontrolled, your children would starve.”

A horse-man called, “Get the food from the other Domes!”

“We have no transport between Domes. We can communicate through the Rainbow, but that’s all.”

“I hear the land around Azul is fertile. Grow crops there and ship them up! Why must you depend on the Dome’s machines to produce food?”

Zozula appeared to get flustered. “There’s a primitive tribal society Outside, composed of Wild Humans. You all know that. We do not have the manpower to grow crops, let alone protect them from the depredations of savages!”

At this point some of the audience heard a shout of anger from the wings, but they forgot about it when Alice began to talk again. “Excuses! You True Humans are always full of excuses when it comes to making changes. So here we work, as our forefathers have worked for twenty-six thousand years, trying to re-create what you people call the True Human form — and getting a little worse at doing it, year by year. That’s a disheartening existence, don’t you agree?”

She lowered her voice,
darting cunning glances around her. “But suppose we succeeded? Suppose, suddenly, the babies began to breed true? Where would that leave us? In a few years the neotenites in the Domes would have been replaced and the need for the People Planet would end, and we’d be out of a job. What then, True Humans? Would you continue to support a world for which you had no further use?”

Selena said, “We’d relocate you all on Earth, of course.”

“What? Set us down among the Wild Humans? Turn the savages loose on us?”

What happened next was never forgotten by those who saw it, or by their children and their children’s descendants, because it became a minor legend among the Specialists on the People Planet. What happened next was that two people emerged from the wings. Legend tells that they moved in stately fashion, halted center-stage and delivered polished monologues. The truth was, Manuel came storming into view in the full flood of fury, unceremoniously dragging the Girl. The audience didn’t know who they were, of course. That was the shock effect Zozula had been counting on. The audience saw a tubby, muscular young man with a shock of black hair and a murderous expression, pulling behind him a strange fleshy creature.

“I’m a Wild Human!” the young man yelled, and looking at him, the audience believed him. Moderating his tone, Manuel continued, “I live in a house by the sea that I built myself, and I keep two tame vicunas. I’m an artist. I own a machine called a Simulator and I use it to create mind-paintings and I’ve seen
this
man —” he stabbed a finger toward Zozula “— cry when he looks at them. The people in my village grow crops and tend animals, and in the evenings they sit around and talk. I’ve never known them to make war on another village. Right now they’re getting ready for their Horse Day celebrations. People come from all around to take part — even Specialists from the Dome. We’re not savages. We’re human beings living the way humans were meant to live — on Earth, in the open air!

“And you!” He
pointed at Alice. “You have the gall to say a neotenite baby is useless? How can you say that? Everybody has a purpose — to grow up and be a part of society. Neotenites grow up, too.” He indicated the Girl. “This is a grown-up neotenite!”

They hadn’t guessed. They’d never seen one before. The babies had been taken to Earth when they were one year old — when they still looked like ordinary babies. Most of them were then recycled. It hadn’t occurred to Specialists to wonder what the remainder grew up to be like. Perhaps they hadn’t wanted to wonder. Now, faced with the indisputable presence of a real live adult neotenite, they were silent. Some of them turned away. There was a low murmur of pity.

Manuel said, “We call her Girl, because she refuses to take a real name until she’s earned it. She had the guts to leave Dream Earth, where she could have everything she wanted, and live in the real world. And she’s going to pay for it, because she’s wearing out and she’ll be dead soon. You think you’ve got problems? Take a look at the Girl. Look at her body.”

The Girl made a little movement, trying to drag away. “No, Manuel,” she whispered.

“Look at her arms, look at her legs. Just imagine how it hurts her, just to move around. But, of course, you can’t imagine that. You’re Specialists. You’re physically perfect. Well, I’d like you to help the Girl to be as perfect as you.

“I’d like you to carry on with the breeding program for her sake, and for the sake of those like her. Forget about your problems here — because I’m quite sure there’s no quick answer. Just work toward the day when you can give the neotenites real bodies — and let’s try to make it soon, because the Girl hasn’t got much time. Then you can all go down to Earth if you want to and live among us Wild Humans. I give you my word we’ll make you welcome.”

There was a long silence while the audience waited for a lead. People glanced at one another and nobody spoke, although from somewhere the sound of muffled sobbing could be heard. Most people were looking at the Girl. There was an almost physical aura of pity in the theater. These people loved babies; whether or not they had been conditioned to have this love was beside the point. And here was the biggest, saddest baby of them all.

Finally there
was a movement from the audience.

Alice lumbered to the stage, her eyes fixed on the Girl, trying to understand the manner of creature her world had been creating, seeing the physical reality and beginning to get some inkling of the suffering behind that shapeless exterior. She climbed onto the stage and put out a hand, touching the Girl’s hand. Then, impulsively, she hugged her.

“We’ll do whatever we can, my dear,” said Alice.

T
he following
morning they rode shrugleggers into the Everling village, where the rain fell heavily, as though to wash away the debris and the memory of the destructive orgy. The Everlings remained indoors, composing themselves for thirty years of dull, repetitive labor. Selena caught sight of Jenny through an open door and waved, but the little girl ignored her. All the equipment had been removed to a central storage place, and the shack was empty of all but the most rudimentary furniture.

With giant strides and thrusting thighs, the shrugleggers carried them up the hill toward Horst’s Stones. Joe’s cabin was empty; the artist was walking in the rain somewhere, coming to terms with himself. It was a time of reflection for the Everlings, a time for unwinding.

When they reached the top of the ridge, they found one Everling still working. The squat figure of Horst could be seen beside a monolith over ten meters tall, chipping at it with a chisel. The faint clicking of metal on stone carried across the basin to them.

Even Zozula was awed by the sight of the Stones. “I’ve never seen them from this viewpoint before,” he said, as they paused to allow the shrugleggers to recover their breath. “It’s a hell of an undertaking. What is it all for?”

“I’ve no
idea,” said Selena, rather shortly. She felt strongly that the journey was pointless. “And neither has Horst, I suspect. The poor child is mad.”

“But still possessing certain skills.” Zozula gazed across the wide, shallow basin, where over five hundred Stones had been erected in a seemingly random arrangement. The rock on which Horst worked was the most recent; it was the only one without a heavy covering of lichen and moss. “Let’s go and talk to him,” said Zozula, kicking his mount forward.

But Horst ignored them. “I’m almost finished now, my love,” he was murmuring in tones of quiet exaltation, tapping with obsessive care at the rock. Up close, they could see that the Stones were not smooth. Hors’t had chipped a number of indentations into the surface, again placed randomly — or perhaps in accordance with some design known only to his fevered mind. “It won’t be long now,” he said.

Zozula, becoming impatient, dismounted and laid a hand on Horst’s shoulder. The Evening jerked round to face him. “How long have you been putting up these Stones?” asked Zozula.

“Who wants to know, tell us that?” said Horst with a sly look; then, glancing at the sky, he continued, “We won’t tell them, will we, my love? We won’t tell them anything. That way they can’t hurt us.”

“We don’t want to hurt you, Horst,” said Selena. “We just want to know if you remember anything that happened a long time ago. Back in the beginning.”

“We don’t remember, do we? We will not remember.” But it seemed that Horst couldn’t help remembering something, because his face crumpled and he began to cry. “So sorry, my love,” he sobbed. “So sorry. I tried. I tried so hard, but …” And his eyes widened, and a look of staring fear was there, so dreadful that Zozula swung round, half expecting to find something hideous crouched behind him.