Laura was swallowing a bite of sandwich and almost choked. “Veda, you are so good for me! I’m never going to take life too seriously with you around . . . like the way you helped me see the funny side of La-ren and Judy’s little brush with the authorities.”
Veda sniffed. “It was high time something reminded all these officious busybodies that the Twin-Bred are children. Of course they’ll get into mischief now and then. They aren’t going to spend every minute being test subjects and political solutions-in-training.” She paused and looked down for a moment. “It took me a while to absorb that fact. But there’s one thing motherhood will do for you.” She smiled, a little ruefully. “It teaches you that even the best manipulators have their limits. Children have this irritating way of turning out to be themselves.” She patted her prominent belly. “And now I get to learn it all over again. Please pass the salt.”
The two technicians had been friends for years. Harry had helped Mike get the job at the Project. Now they were trading updates over beers.
"You hear about how one of the mamas is pregnant again? Not with twins or any such — just normal, like. Ms. Seeling."
Mike grinned. "Bit of a spitfire, isn't she? — for all she's so tiny. Pregant again, huh? I remember, before, with her twins, she got near as round as a balloon."
Harry laughed, then stopped and pointed at Mike. "Speaking of babies — that reminds me. The folks in Biogenetics finally got those Tofa host mothers to talk about something interesting. Namely sex. Except it isn’t.”
Mike took a swig of his beer. “Meaning?”
Harry wiped foam off his chin. “It’s what a lot of people had been guessing. The Tofa don’t have predetermined or differentiated genders. They aren’t male or female, even when they do what we’d call female things. Like being pregnant.”
“Do they care that we’ve been using female pronouns about them?”
“Hey, if you can tell what they care about. . . . But it gets weirder. Boy, does it get weirder. When they’re not letting humans pop babies into them, you will never guess how they get pregnant.”
“Ummmm…” Mike took another swig. “OK, nothing comes to mind. So give.”
“Well, it isn’t the birds and the bees. At least, not the birds. It’s something like pollination.”
“Say what??”
“They all walk around sending out these microscopic seed cells. And at any given time, some part of the adult population is in a receptive state. Which feels pretty good, apparently — sort of euphoric. When they’re receptive, they can get pregnant just by breathing.”
“Holy shit. It’s like a baby plague!” Mike took a large gulp. “Ho-kay. I did not see that one coming. Would not have guessed that one. So — when our Tofa kids get older, how do we keep them from breathing in baby dust?”
“I’d say we can’t. Even if we stop our Tofa from producing the stuff, they’ll be going out into Tofa communities. It’ll be everywhere. But that’s only the first step. I’m sure we’ll be able to inhibit one or more of the later stages.”
“And what about the euphoria? Will they still have that?”
“No way to tell until we start tinkering.”
Mike drained his mug. “Poor kids.” He set it down. “Excuse me. I’ve got a date with some pictures. I feel like celebrating being human.” He hustled toward the living quarters.
“YES!”
Siri O’Donnell looked toward the closed door of Kimball’s office. Good news, obviously. She wondered if it had something to do with the latest report from one of their Project contacts. Someone in the biogenetics department.
Chapter 16
Mara thought once again of turning around. She visualized slapping herself in the face, and kept walking; told herself very sternly that she had protected herself long enough. After forwarding the reports about the singletons unread — a scientific and administrative sin — she would inflict upon herself a personal visit.
The Director of Special Programs for Unpaired Subjects, a young woman shorter than her title, came out to meet Mara, beaming. “We’re so glad you’re finally coming to see us! The children all know about you. They’re likely to pester you for attention — but say the word and we’ll shoo them away.”
“Know about me?” For a moment Mara's chest went tight and she imagined some mysterious karmic force at work, betraying her via those she had betrayed.
“Know that you got the Project started, that you care so much about bringing human and Tofa together.” As they entered the building, the woman pointed to a brightly painted mural of humans and Tofa holding hands and dancing around a circle. “Our kids are big on human-Tofa relationships. As you might expect.”
Mara made a mental note to find out if any of the Tofa Twin-Bred actually danced. “I might expect some other things as well. All these children lost twins in utero. What sort of problems, and what sort of coping mechanisms have you seen?”
“Per the protocols — I understand you designed them? — they all know about their twins. We’ve filled in some of the details. They’ve learned that their mothers tried to carry human and Tofa babies together, but that something didn’t work, and that one baby — usually the Tofa baby — was lost. We told them their mothers are happy that they survived and are doing so well. They don’t see much of their mothers, but that’s true for many of the intact twin pairs as well. Some of our children wish they had a mother ‘like Judy’s and La-ren’s mother,’ for example — but they don’t consider themselves especially mother-deprived as a group.”
“And twin-deprived?”
“We’ve told them that if they feel sad and miss their twin, that’s natural. And that they can tell us — so we can try to cheer them up — or not tell us, just as they like. Some of them give their lost twin a name. Sinbad tried asking his mother what his twin’s name would have been. She said they didn’t give names before birth, so that was that. Of course, we don’t really know whether that’s the truth, but for our purposes it doesn’t matter.”
As they walked past a window, Mara could see a courtyard with a sandbox and several sets of playground equipment. It was a smaller version of the playground in the main compound. There were swings and see-saws and climbing towers, some sized for human and some for Tofa children, and some ingeniously constructed so that they could be used by either. As she watched, children spilled out of a doorway and ran to all corners of the yard.
“I’d like to go out there and observe the children in a recreational setting.”
“Of course.” The woman led Mara to another door. They emerged near a shaded bench, close to the playground but not so close as to attract much attention. They sat, and Mara pulled out her tablet to take notes.
She surveyed the scene. There were children who ran and shouted, and children who played quietly. A few were solitary, but most were in pairs, although one of the Tofa children had two human companions. She turned to ask how this had come about, but was distracted by a human boy and girl, approaching hand in hand. The girl, cheerful and grinning, was tugging the boy, who stumbled trying to keep up.
The girl announced herself. “Hi! I’m Rita! And this is my twin, Jerry! Hi! You’re Dr. Cadell, aren’t you?”
Mara nodded, bemused. Twin? “Hello, Rita. Hello, Jerry.”
Rita pointed to Mara’s tablet. “Are you writing about us? What are you writing?”
“Wait just a moment, and I’ll show you.” Mara quickly pulled out a stylus and sketched a quick cartoon of a little girl with a big grin, hand in hand with a boy with big round eyes.
Rita shrieked with delight, making Jerry jump. “It’s me! It’s Jerry and me! Jerry, look!” Jerry blushed and smiled.
“Can I have it? Can I have the picture?”
“If you’ll go and play so we can continue our discussion, I’ll send it when I get back to my office. It was nice to meet you.”
“Okay! Thank you! Okay! Come on, Jerry!” Rita turned and pulled Jerry back toward the playground, stopping once
to turn and wave vigorously. Jerry turned just as they reached the swings and gave a small wave of his own.
Mara turned toward her guide. “Did I hear the girl properly?”
The young woman looked confused for a moment, and then enlightened. “Oh, you mean about Jerry being her ‘twin’. That’s one of the adaptations we’ve seen. The children have rather blended the concept of ‘friend’ and ‘twin.’ They’ll ask another child, ‘Will you be my twin?’ There are a couple of sets of what you could call ‘friend triplets’, but it’s usually pairs. There’s some shifting of friendships over time, but rather less than in most groups of children.”
Mara swallowed hard. “Is it — enough?”
The woman gestured toward the playground. “On the whole, I’d say it is. We don’t see children sitting and brooding very often. And none of them is clinically depressed, at least so far.”
Mara watched the triad of one Tofa and two human children, who were using the swing set. The humans were on adjoining swings, while the Tofa pushed one with each of his upper hands. “Does the experience of having lost a twin seem any different for the Tofa singletons?”
“Well, the circumstances make it different. Since most of the lost twins were Tofa, the Tofa singletons are — rather in demand, you could say. They’ve usually been the first ones approached for the friendships I spoke of. So that’s some compensation. But on the other hand, they have sometimes expressed some feelings of isolation. They know that if their twin had lived, there would be a human being that would understand them better than their human ‘best friends’ can.”
Mara stared off across the playground until she was sure she could speak steadily. “I understand that the children’s education is the same as the other Twin-Bred’s.”
“Oh, yes — with a few exceptions. They frequently have classes or do activities with the other Twin-Bred. Since we have so few Tofa here, we make a special effort to have those children spend time, both lesson time and recreation time, with the Tofa twins. Sometimes a few of the more independent Tofa come over here to play without their twins. We particularly encourage that, but we play host to individual human children, without their twins, as well.”
Mara took a deep breath. It came easier than it had in a long time. “I’d like to see the rest of the facility. But I can already say — I’m impressed.”
Chapter 17
“Henry!”
Henry Abuto jumped. His supervisor, Mr. Fellows, stood beaming in the doorway.
“Remember back when you were a young sprout, and actually did some teaching? It’s time to revisit your youth, my lad. Ms. Sinder has the galloping crud, and it’s time for her class to learn about the fall of ancient Rome. Your very own lesson plan, I believe.”
Henry saved his report and opened the lesson plan in question, more to give himself a moment to regroup than from any need to refresh his memory.
Of course, this was a stroke of luck. He had done his best to emphasize the ways in which inattention and complacency reduced any chance of preserving Roman civilization, to suggest the threat that could be posed by a numerically superior though technologically inferior enemy. But writing the lesson didn’t guarantee an effective presentation. Now, thanks to one of the few Tofarna germs that still confounded human medicine, he could control that as well. His own feelings were another matter — but less important.
He did a double-take. “The fall of Rome? I wasn’t aware that Ms. Sinder had progressed that far. And I should have been.” He searched the departmental records. Ms. Sinder had apparently neglected to file the last several required updates. “While the lady recovers, she had better catch up on her paperwork. I would be better prepared to present the fall of Rome if I knew whether the — the students had shown any appreciation or understanding of what there was to lose.”
Mr. Fellows patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll find out soon enough, my boy. But our ailing comrade is a better teacher than she is a paper-pusher. The youngsters might just surprise you.”
Mr. Fellows got a faraway look in his eye. Henry, suffering from stage fright and an uneasy stomach, was unhappy to recognize the signs of imminent metaphysical ramblings.
“Ah, Rome. So much to study, so many of the examples of the best and worst of humanity at work — and yet, just one thread in the vast tapestry of human history. We have so much to teach these children! But Henry, just think of all the history we’re failing to teach them. No Tofa history, Henry! What a gap, what a lack! It’s such a pity Dr. Cadell hasn’t found a way. . . .”
It was indeed ironic for Henry to be put in the position of defending Dr. Cadell. “I gather the problem was circular. The basic situation that led to this Project prevented the staff from adequately communicating our need for the teachers you describe.” And a good thing too, Henry added to himself. God only knows what sort of doctrines the children would have been fed along with whatever passed for Tofa history. History was a particularly fertile field for planting political ideas. A possibility to which Henry devoutly hoped Fellows remained oblivious.
“We could ask some of the Tofa host mothers to step in. They may not be experts, but they have to know far more than the rest of us. I’ll write a memo.” Henry had heard this declaration of intent several times before. Fellows had never followed through, but Henry reminded himself to keep monitoring Fellows' output and intercept any memo he might actually produce.
Fellows glanced at his tablet. “Great Scott, look at the time! Off with you, lad. Gather your materials and your wits, and get on over to Classroom D.”
Henry looked around the room. Although he had known to expect it, it was still jarring to see human and Tofa, human and Tofa, one pair after another, sitting close together.
Henry cleared his throat. “I’m Mr. Abuto. I don’t know if anyone has told you that your teacher is sick. I work in the Educational Planning and Analysis Department, usually, which is why you may not have seen me before — but I’m also a teacher, and I’m familiar with the subject you’re studying. So I’m going to fill in until she feels better.”
Up went a long thin arm. Henry pointed and the young Tofa stood up. At age six, he was already taller than a human child of eight or nine.
“Ms. Sinder would be sorry to miss our discussion. Could she join it from wherever she is?”
Henry folded his arms. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. But she can view it later, when she’s able.” Which meant he would need to be subtle.
Henry looked around the room. “Has everyone viewed the assigned lesson?” Human heads nodded up and down, Tofa heads to one side.
He looked the nearest human child in the eye. “We know what happened. So of course, we know that it could happen. But the Romans, or most of them — they didn’t really believe it. They knew the barbarians were there; they knew there were more of them, many more than Romans; they knew there had been hostilities for generations. But they thought Rome would go on forever, that Rome could never be overcome.”
He looked around the room again. “The fall of the Roman Empire had many causes, and many stages. But put in the simplest terms, Rome was overrun by Germanic tribes. By the barbarians, as they called these tribes.”
Were they listening? He thought so. Henry continued.
“Now the Romans had been dealing with the barbarians for a very long time. Sometimes they fought them. Sometimes they made peace with them. Sometimes they more or less ignored them. Sometimes, in some cases, they assimilated them — let the most promising become part of their civilization.” Was his language too advanced? He thought not; all the observations to date indicated that these children were precocious, well ahead of their peers outside the Project.
“All, in the end, temporary solutions.” The word “incomplete” could have followed so easily; he held it back, thinking of the video record.
“Rome had considerable technological superiority. But naturally, over time, its enemies had the opportunity to observe Rome’s technology in action, and
to learn from it. And the emperors and elite of Rome did not concentrate on maintaining or increasing their technological edge. Eventually they lost that advantage.
“Now in the last centuries of its existence, what changed in the way that Rome dealt with these tribes? Anyone?”
The same Tofa raised his? its? hand. Henry nodded.
“In the 4th Century C.E., the Roman Army was having trouble recruiting Romans. So they started letting the Germanic tribesmen in. They would make a German warlord into a Roman citizen and put him in charge of a legion full of Germans.”
Henry reminded himself to smile. “That’s right. In fact, one whole tribe of Visigoths was let into the Roman army. They were supposed to fight off the Huns. Does anyone remember what happened?”
A human girl, looking tiny next to her Tofa twin, raised her hand. “They won. But the Romans didn’t treat them well, and the Visigoths and the Romans ended up fighting. And the Visigoths won.”
“Yes. And about ten years later, the Visigoths sacked Rome.” Henry decided he’d gone as far as he could in that direction, and needed to muddy the waters somewhat. “What were some of the other problems with the Roman Empire in its latter days? They had some pretty wild characters for emperors, didn’t they?” That won him a few faint chuckles and one quiet whistle. “Let’s hear about a few. Anyone — who was your favorite bad Roman emperor?”
Henry remembered to call on both human and Tofa, and tried to look as if he were listening. But he was composing his next dispatch to Councilman Kimball.
Chapter 18
If the Project had been conceived purely as a means of learning more about Tofa physiology, psychology and behavior, it would have been an avowed success well before the Twin-Bred left childhood.