Nancy Kress - Nothing Human

Of course. Cord and Taneesha ran after Uncle DeWayne.

Uncle DeWayne said to the man, “Mike? Mike Franzi?”

The man said nothing, studying this well-dressed black man. One of the little girls shrank behind him.

Uncle DeWayne grinned hugely. “Sure it is. Mike Franzi, and you’ve forgotten all those basketball games at Andrews where I whipped your white ass. DeWayne Freeman!”

The stranger seized Uncle DeWayne’s hand. One of the women started to cry.

Taneesha said in a low voice to Cord, “Here’s trouble.”

“What? Who?”

Taneesha didn’t answer, but she stared back without flinching at one of the girls, who was giving her the finger.

It was another of those weird relationships. Two of the strangers, Mike Franzi and Hannah Reeder, were twenty-seven. They had been at Andrews Air Force Base with Uncle DeWayne and Dr. Wilkins, who were sixty-seven. So had the other woman, Robin Perry, but she hadn’t gone up to the pribir ship and so she was sixty-seven, too. Three of the kids were “Aunt Hannah’s,” as Cord was instructed to call her. The other three belonged to some woman named Sophie, who was dead, but now old “Aunt Robin” was taking care of her kids.

When he was a child, thought thirteen-and-a-half-year-old Cord, all this seemed normal. It was just the way things were. Now, after watching the Net, he saw how abnormal it was. Well, that was good! He and his “family” were abnormal because they were special, made that way by the pribir.

The strange thing was the way his mother reacted when they all went back to the farm in Uncle DeWayne’s truck.

Lillie — lately Cord had begun thinking of her that way, although he wasn’t sure why—took one look at Mike Franzi and stopped dead. Then a slow, long blush spread up from her neck over her face, turning it red as sunset. Lillie, who never blushed!

“Hello, Mike.”

“Hello, Lillie. Long time.”

“How many years? Twelve.”

“You look wonderful,” he said. Cord scowled. His mother looking ‘wonderful’? She was just his mother. Lillie said, “Tell me what happened.”

He smiled. “Direct as always. All right, the short version is, Hannah and I were in Philadelphia. It got impossible, food riots and burning. We found Robin and Sophie on the Net, living together with their kids in Denver. We went there because it sounded better, and for a while it was. But then it got as dangerous and hungry as Philly, no jobs. Two weeks ago Sophie was killed in a riot. By that time I recognized Rafe’s message on the Net, and here we are.”

Cord knew that message, although he didn’t understand it. It went: Do you remember Andrew? How about Pam and Pete? They’re still gone, of course, but their legacy remains. Sometimes it seems I can still smell them. So much is gone, but we’re here.

Dr. Wilkins said, “Why didn’t you Net us that you were coming?”

Mike didn’t answer. After a moment the girl who had given Taneesha the finger said defiantly, “We were afraid you wouldn’t take us in.”

Uncle Jody said, “We will. My mother would have wanted it.”

Lillie added, “If we didn’t want you, why would Rafe have posted that message? You’re welcome, all of you, as long as you’re willing to work. Times are tougher than they were—but I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”

The old woman, “Robin,” said bitterly, “Lillie, you don’t know about tough times. You missed the war. Don’t try to tell me about tough times.”

Lillie looked startled, and then her eyes met Mike’s, and something passed between them. All Cord saw was a tiny smile and an even tinier shake of his head, but once more his mother—his mother!—blushed. And then she looked at the younger woman, Hannah, and looked away.

Mike said, “These are Sophie’s children, Roy, Patty, and Ashley.” Ashley and Taneesha stared each other down. Trouble, Taneesha had said, and Cord believed it. Ashley was as skinny as the rest but taller and muscled. Her insolent look around the cluttered great room said she didn’t think much of it. As if she was used to better.

Hannah said in a high, strained voice, “These are my children. Frank and Bruce and Loni.”

“Hi,” a few of the farm kids said shyly. The rest of the introductions were made. The new people would never remember all the names, Cord thought. He couldn’t even remember all of theirs, and there were only nine. Which one was Bruce?

Aunt Sajelle said, “Let’s get you all fed and settled.” Since Grandma’s death, Aunt Sajelle had taken over running the big house, with Aunt Carolina’s help.

Clari, at Cord’s elbow said, “They look so hungry.”

“They probably are,” Cord said. Clari was always kind, so sweet. The other boys, especially his brother Keith, teased Cord about having a girl for a best friend, but he didn’t care. There was no one like Clari.

Ashley Vogel was the only kid at the farm who hated the pribir. “They wrecked my life,” she said. “Fuck them.”

“No,” Taneesha said, “they gave you your life. They wrecked our lives by sending you here. Why don’t you just go back where you came from.”

“Fuck you,” Ashley said.

A ring of kids surrounded the two at Dead Men’s Arroyo. Ashley had wanted to see where the refugees who once attacked the farm were buried, because Dolly had told her it was haunted. Nine of them had hiked out in the late afternoon, when the sun wasn’t too dangerous, on the half-day a week they were allowed off from chores and studies. The hike out was tense. Dolly, the only person who liked Ashley, walked ahead with her, whispering together and jeering over their shoulders at the others.

Cord had gone because he was both bored and strangely keyed up. The new kids had upset the balance at the farm. New friendships formed, old alliances shifted, among both children and adults. No one liked Aunt Robin. She was the same age as Uncle DeWayne and Dr. Wilkins, but she seemed older, nastier. Her hip hurt her, her gut ached, she was always complaining. Aunt Hannah was all right and her kids didn’t cause any trouble, but something wasn’t right there, either. Something about Aunt Hannah and Cord’s mother. He didn’t like to think about it. It was partly to avoid thinking about it that he’d hiked down to the arroyo with Dolly, Ashley, Taneesha, Jason, Keith, Kella, Gavin, Dakota, and Bobby. Clari had another one of her colds and her mother made her stay in bed.

Walking over the land, following his own lengthening shadow, Cord remembered how it used to be. Greener, with bushes and little low flowers everywhere and even some cottonwood saplings starting to take growth. Now, except where the farm irrigated with windpower, the ground stretched gray and bleached, dust devils rising in yellow funnels on the wind. The new saplings had all withered. Tumbleweed rolled across his path.

At the arroyo, studying the marker stone for the mass grave, Ashley said, “Let’s dig them up.”

Kella was shocked. “You can’t do that! You’re not supposed to disturb the dead. Besides, what if some of the micros from the bioweapon are still active? We could die!”

“The micros aren’t still active,” Dakota said authoritatively. He was one of the kids that studied with Dr. Wilkins. “They had a terminator gene built in for only twelve replications.”

“Too bad,” Ashley said coolly. “We could all die. That would be so bonus.”

Cord gaped at her. He knew that Ashley was showing off, but something about her disturbed him. Not just her meanness… something else he couldn’t name.

Kella said, “But you don’t want to die, Ashley!”

“Why not? End this misery.”

Cord found himself saying, “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk.”