Robert Sawyer - Hybrids

“And if Mary’s leave turns out to be permanent,” he said, his tone still even, “as it probably will, you’ll have to replace her with a woman, too, right?”

Qaiser nodded, but she still wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“So the next four tenure-track appointments have to go to women.” He stopped himself-rather more easily than he’d expected to be able to do so-before adding, “Preferably crippled black ones.”

Qaiser nodded again.

“How often does a tenure-track position open up?” he asked, as if he himself didn’t already know the answer.

“It depends on when people retire, or move on to other things.”

Cornelius waited, saying nothing.

“Every couple of years or so,” Qaiser finally replied.

“More like three years, on average,” said Cornelius. “Trust me; I’ve done the math. Meaning it’ll be twelve years before you’re looking for a male, and even then it’ll be a disabled or minority male, isn’t that right?”

“Well…”

“Isn’t that right?”

But there was no need for Qaiser to reply; Cornelius had read the relevant part of the collective agreement between the Faculty Association and the Board of Governors so often he could recite it from memory, despite the awkward bureaucratic phrasing:

(i) In units where fewer than 40 % of the tenure stream faculty/librarian positions are filled by women, when candidates’ qualifications are substantially equal the candidate who is a member of a visible/racial minority, an aboriginal person or a person with a disability and female shall be recommended for appointment.

(ii) If there is no candidate recommended from (i) above then when candidates’ qualifications are substantially equal a candidate who is female or who is a male and a member of a visible/racial minority, an aboriginal person, or a person with a disability shall be recommended for appointment.

If there is no candidate recommended from (i) or (ii) above then the candidate who is male shall be recommended for appointment.

“Cornelius, I’m sorry,” said Qaiser, at last.

“ Everybody is in line in front of an able-bodied white male.”

“It’s only because…”

Qaiser trailed off, and Cornelius fixed her with a steady gaze. “Yes?” he said.

She actually squirmed a bit. “It’s only because able-bodied white males cut to the front of the line so often in the past.”

Cornelius remembered the last time someone had said that to him-a bleeding-heart liberal white guy at a party, last spring. He’d jumped down the guy’s throat, and practically tore out his lungs, saying he shouldn’t be punished for the actions of his ancestors, and just…

He realized it now.

Just basically making an ass of himself. He’d left the party in a huff.

“Perhaps you’re right,” said Cornelius. “In any event, what’s that old prayer? ‘God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.’ ” He paused. “In this case, I do know the difference.”

“I’m sorry, Cornelius,” said Qaiser.

“And so, I should leave.” Take my balls and go home, he thought-but, of course, he couldn’t do that anymore.

“Most universities have similar affirmative-action programs, you know. Where would you go?”

“Private industry, maybe. I love to teach, but…”

Qaiser nodded. “Biotech is superhot, right now. Lots of job openings, and…”

“And since biotech is mostly an industry of start-ups, no historical imbalances to correct,” said Cornelius, his tone even.

“Say,” said Qaiser, “you know what you should do? Go to the Synergy Group!”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the U.S.-government think tank devoted to Neanderthal studies. They’re the group that hired Mary Vaughan away.”

Cornelius was about to dismiss the notion-working with Mary now would be as difficult as working with Qaiser-but Qaiser continued: “I heard they offered Mary a hundred and fifty grand U.S.”

Cornelius felt his jaw dropping. That was-Christ, that was close to a quarter of a million dollars a year Canadian. It was indeed the kind of money a guy like him, with a Ph. D. from Oxford, should be pulling down!

Still…“I don’t want to muscle in on Mary’s turf,” he said.

“Oh, you wouldn’t be doing that,” said Qaiser. “In fact, I hear she’s left Synergy. Daria Klein had an e-mail from her a while ago. She’s apparently gone native-moved permanently over to the Neanderthal world.”

“Permanently?”

Qaiser nodded. “That’s what I heard.”

Cornelius frowned. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to apply there, then…”

“Absolutely!” said Qaiser, apparently eager to do something for Cornelius. “Look, let me write you a letter of reference. I bet they’ll need another DNA expert there to replace Mary. Your graduate work was at Oxford’s Ancient Biomolecules Centre, right? You’d be a perfect fit.”

Cornelius considered. He’d done what he’d done in the first place because of frustration over his stalled career. It would be a nice bit of closure to have that ultimately lead to him getting the kind of job he deserved. “Thank you, Qaiser,” he said, smiling at her. “Thank you very much.”

“ But whether the Neanderthals come with us or not to the red planet, we should adopt their view of that world’s color. Mars is not a symbol of war; it is the color of health, of life-and if it is, perhaps, barren of life now, we should not let it remain so any longer…”

It was time for Mary to get the codon writer to Jock, so that he could take it back to…

Well, to where?

Mary had laughed when she’d seen Councilor Bedros on the Voyeur referring to the Barast world as “Jantar.” There was no single name for the version of Earth that Mary called home. “Earth” was just the English term; it was called different things in other languages. Terra was the word in Latin and many of its descendants. The French-and the French-Canadians-called it Terre. In Esperanto, it was Tero. The Greek term- Gaea — was popular among environmentalists. Russians called it Zemlja; the Swedes Jorden. In Hebrew it was Eretz; in Arabic, Ard; in Farsi, Zamin; in Mandarin, Diqiu; and in Japanese, Chikyuu. The most beautiful of the lot, thought Mary, was the Tahitian, Vuravura. Ponter simply called it “Mare’s world,” but Mary doubted that was going to catch on in general use.

In any event, Mary now had to get the codon writer to Jock so that he could take it safely back to…to Gliksinia.

Gliksinia? No, too harsh. How about Sapientia? Or The travel cube Mary had called for arrived, and she clambered into one of the two rear seats. “The Debral nickel mine,” said Mary.

The driver gave her a cool look. “Going home?”

“Not me,” said Mary. “But somebody else is.”

Mary’s heart leaped when she caught sight of Ponter, part of the group returning from Donakat Island. But she had promised herself she would behave like a proper native of this world, and not run into his arms. After all, Two were not One!

Still, when no one else was looking, she blew him a kiss, and he smiled broadly back at her.

But it wasn’t him she’d really come to see. It was Jock Krieger. Mary sidled up to him, carrying her long wrapped package under her arm. “Beware of Gliksins bearing gifts!” she said.

“Mary!” exclaimed Jock.

Mary motioned for Jock to move out of earshot of the others. A silver-clad Exhibitionist tried to follow them, but Mary turned around and glared at him until he scuttled away.

“So,” said Mary, “what do you think of this world?”

“It’s astonishing,” said Jock. “I knew in an intellectual sort of way that we’d screwed up our environment, but until I saw all this…” He gestured at the countryside. “It’s like finding Eden.”