Robert Sawyer - Hybrids

Mary laughed. “Isn’t it, though? Too bad it’s already occupied, eh?”

“It is indeed,” said Jock. “Are you going to come back home with us, or do you want to spend some more time in the garden?”

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay a few more days.” She tried not to smile. “I’ve been making…great progress.” She presented the package. “But I do have something I want you to take back.”

“What is it?”

Mary looked left and right, then checked over her shoulder. She then looked down, just to make sure that Jock hadn’t been forced to strap on a Companion. “It’s a codon writer-a Barast DNA synthesizer.”

“Why do you need me to take it back? Why don’t you just bring it yourself when you come?”

Mary lowered her voice. “This is banned technology. I’m not really supposed to have it-no one is. But it’s the most amazing thing. I’ve written up some notes for you about it; they’re included in the package.”

Jock lifted his eyebrows up toward his pompadour, clearly impressed. “Banned technology? I knew I was doing the right thing when I hired you…”

Suddenly Mary was awake. It took her a moment to orient herself in the darkness, to figure out where she was.

A large, warm form was sleeping quietly next to her. Ponter?

No, no. Not yet, not tonight. It was Bandra; Mary had been sharing Bandra’s bed these last few nights.

Mary glanced at the ceiling. Neanderthal digits were gently glowing there, specifying the time. Mary was good at deciphering them when wide awake, but her vision was blurry right now, and it took her a few seconds-a few beats — to remember that she had to read them from right to left, and that a circle was the symbol for five, not zero. It was the middle of daytenth nine; a little after 3:00 A.M.

There was no point leaping out of bed, even though that’s what she felt like doing. And it had nothing to do with the fact that she was sleeping next to another woman; indeed, she was surprised how easy it had been to get used to that. But the thought that had forced her awake was still in her head, burning brightly.

Occasionally she’d awoken in the middle of the night with brilliant thoughts before, only to fall back asleep and have them completely gone by morning. Indeed, many years ago she’d briefly fancied herself a poet-she and Colm had met at one of his poetry readings-and she’d kept a pad at her bedside, along with a small book-light, so that she could make notes without disturbing him. But she’d given that up soon enough, since the notes had turned out, when reviewed in the morning, to be mostly gibberish.

But this thought, this notion, this wonderful, wonderful idea, would still be there in the morning, of that Mary was certain. It was too important to let slip away.

She hugged herself, nestled back into the cushions, and soon was asleep, very much at peace.

The next morning Christine gently woke Mary at the agreed upon time-two-thirds of the way through the tenth daytenth. Bandra’s Companion had been asked to wake her simultaneously, and did indeed seem to be doing so.

Mary smiled at Bandra. “Hey,” she said, reaching out to touch the Barast woman’s arm.

“Healthy day,” said Bandra. She blinked a few times, still waking up. “Let me get to work on breakfast.”

“Not yet,” said Mary. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

They were facing each other on the bed, only a short distance between them. “What?”

“When Two were last One,” said Mary, “Ponter and I had a talk about…about our future.”

Bandra evidently detected something in Mary’s tone. “Ah,” she said.

“You know we had some…some matters to work out.”

Bandra nodded.

“Ponter proposed a solution-or at least a partial solution.”

“I have been dreading this moment,” Bandra said softly.

“You knew that this situation could not last,” said Mary. “I…I can’t stay here forever.”

“Why not?” said Bandra, her voice plaintive.

“Just yesterday, Jock-my boss-was asking me when I’m coming home. And I do have to go back; I still have to complete the annulment of my marriage to Colm. Besides, I…”

“Yes?”

Mary moved the shoulder that she wasn’t leaning on. “I just can’t take it-being here, in this world, with Ponter so close and yet being unable to see him.”

Bandra closed her eyes. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to return to my world,” said Mary.

“And that’s it? You’re leaving Ponter? You’re leaving me?”

“I’m not leaving Ponter,” said Mary. “I will come back here every month, when Two become One.”

“You will travel back and forth between worlds?”

“Yes. I will finish my contract at the Synergy Group, then try to get a job in Sudbury-that’s where the portal is located in my world. There’s a university there.”

“I see,” said Bandra, and Mary could hear the effort she was making to keep her tone even. “Well, I suppose that makes sense.”

Mary nodded.

“I will miss you, Mare. I will miss you greatly.”

Mary touched Bandra’s arm again. “This doesn’t have to be goodbye,” said Mary.

But Bandra shook her head. “I know what Two becoming One is like. Oh, for a few months, perhaps, you might make a token effort to see me briefly during each trip here, but you will really want to spend all your time with your man-mate.” Bandra raised a hand. “And I understand that. You have a good man, a fine human being. If I had the same…”

“You don’t need a man-mate,” said Mary. “No woman, on either side of the portal, does.”

Bandra’s voice was soft. “But I have a man-mate, so for me there is no alternative.”

Mary smiled. “A funny word, that: alternative.” She closed her eyes briefly, remembering. “I know, in your language, it is habadik. But unlike some words that only translate approximately, that one is an exact counterpart: the choice between two, and only two, possibilities. I have some biologist friends who would argue that the concept of alternatives is ingrained in us because of our body form: on the one hand, you could do this; on the other hand, you could do that. An articulate octopus might have no word for the condition of having only two choices.”

Bandra was staring at Mary. “What are you talking about?” she said at last, clearly exasperated.

“I’m talking about the fact that there are other possibilities for you.”

“I will do nothing to jeopardize my daughters’ ability to reproduce.”

“I know that,” said Mary. “Believe me, that’s the last thing I would want.”

“Then what?”

Mary pushed herself forward on the cushions, closing the distance between her and Bandra, and she kissed Bandra full on the lips. “Come with me,” said Mary, when she was done.

“ What? ”

“Come with me, to the other side. To my world. To Sudbury.”

“How would that solve my problem?”

“You would stay in my world when Two become One. You would never have to see Harb again.”

“But my daughters…”

“Are just that: daughters. They will always live in the City Center. They will be safe from him.”

“But I would die if I could never see them again.”

“So come back when Two are separate. Come back when there is no chance of you seeing Harb. Come back and visit your daughters-and their children-as often as you wish.”

Bandra was clearly trying to take it all in. “You mean you and I would both commute between the two worlds, but we would each come back here at different times?”

“Exactly. I’d only come for visits when Two are One-and you’d only come for visits when they aren’t. Work schedules in Canada are five days on, two days off-we call the days off ‘weekends.’ You could come back for each weekend that didn’t happen to fall during Two becoming One.”