Robert Sawyer - Humans

The hover-bus took off again. Torba and Gaddak’s house had been the last stop on the Rim; Ponter settled back for the long drive through the countryside into the Center.

As usual, the women had put up decorations: great pastel streamers stretching from tree to tree, circular bands of color around birch and cedar trunks, banners waving from the roofs of buildings, golden frames surrounding the solar collectors, silver ones adorning the composting units.

Ponter used to harbor a suspicion that the women left the decorations up all the time, but Adikor had said there’d been no sign of them when he’d come into the Center during Last Five, looking for someone to defend him against Daklar Bolbay’s spurious charge.

The hover-bus settled to the ground. It wasn’t yet the time of falling leaves, although next month’s Two becoming One would be during the start of that, and the fans would then send brown and red and yellow and orange foliage whirling about. Ponter would be glad when the cold weather returned.

The computer scientist in Ponter couldn’t help noticing that Torba, Gaddak, and Gaddak’s twin boys were the first to disembark: the hover-bus operated on a last-in/first-out system. Ponter and Adikor were the next to step out. Lurt, Adikor’s woman-mate, hurried over to him, accompanied by little Dab. Adikor swept his son up in his arms and lifted him high over his head. Dab laughed, and Adikor was smiling widely. He set Dab down and gathered Lurt into a hug. It hadn’t been a full month since he’d seen them-they’d both been on hand during Adikor’s dooslarm basadlarm, the preliminary hearing into whether Adikor had murdered Ponter, a charge raised by Daklar Bolbay over Ponter’s disappearance when he’d slipped into the other universe. Still, Adikor was clearly delighted to see his woman and his child.

Ponter’s woman-mate Klast was dead, but he’d expected his two daughters to come greet him. Granted, he’d seen them recently, too; indeed, Jasmel had been instrumental in recovering Ponter from the Gliksin world.

Adikor looked at Ponter apologetically. Ponter knew that Adikor loved him deeply-and he showed that love twenty-five days out of each month. But this was the time for him to be with Lurt and Dab, and, well, he wanted to savor every beat of it. Ponter nodded, letting Adikor go, and Adikor headed off, one arm around Lurt’s waist, the other holding little Dab’s left hand.

Other men were joining up with their women, and boys were going off with girls from the same generation. Yes, there’d certainly be much sex over the next four days, but there’d also be a lot of playing and fun and family outings and feasting.

Ponter looked around. The crowd was dissipating. It was an unpleasantly warm day, and he sighed-but not just because of that.

“I can call Jasmel, if you wish,” said Hak. Hak was Ponter’s Companion implant, embedded in the inside of his left forearm, just above the wrist. Like most Companions, it consisted of a high-contrast, matte-finish rectangular display screen about as long and wide as a finger, with six small control buds set beneath it, and a lens at one end. But unlike most Companions, which were pretty stupid, Hak was a sophisticated artificial intelligence, a product of Ponter’s colleague Kobast Gant.

Hak hadn’t spoken aloud, although she could; Ponter thought of it as a she, since Kobast had programmed the device with the voice of Ponter’s late woman-mate. On days like today, though, that seemed a terrible mistake: it reminded him of how much he missed Klast. He’d have to speak to Kobast about getting a different voice.

“No,” said Ponter, softly. “No, don’t call anyone. Jasmel has a young man, you know. He probably came in on an earlier hover-bus, and she’s off with him.”

“You’re the boss,” said Hak.

Ponter looked around. The buildings here in the Center were much like those out at the Rim. Most had main structures grown through arboriculture, tree trunks shaped around building forms that had subsequently been removed. Many had brick or wooden additions tacked on. All had solar-collecting arrays, either on their roofs or propped up on the ground adjacent to them. In some hostile climates, buildings had to be entirely manufactured, but Ponter always thought such structures were ugly. And yet the Gliksins seemed to make all their buildings that way, and to cram them together like herds of herbivorous animals.

Speaking of animals, there would be a mammoth hunt this afternoon, providing fresh meat for tomorrow’s feast. Perhaps Ponter would join the hunting party. It had been a long time since he’d taken spear in hand and brought down prey in the old-fashioned way. At least it would give him-him, and the other men who had no one to spend time with-something to do.

“Daddy!”

Ponter turned around. Jasmel was running toward him, accompanied by her boyfriend, Tryon. Ponter felt a grin splitting his features. “Healthy day, sweetheart,” he said, as they came up to him. “Healthy day, Tryon.”

Jasmel hugged her father. Tryon stood awkwardly at one side. When Jasmel released Ponter, Tryon said, “It’s good to see you, sir. I understand you’ve had quite an adventure.”

“That I have,” said Ponter. He supposed he possessed the same ambivalence toward this young man that any father of a young woman had. Yes, Jasmel had said nothing but good about Tryon-he listened to her when she spoke, he was kind during sex, he was studying to be a leather worker and so was going to make a valuable contribution to society. Still, Jasmel was his daughter, and he wanted nothing but the best for her.

“Sorry we were late,” said Jasmel.

“That’s all right,” replied Ponter. “Where is Megameg?”

“She’s decided she doesn’t really like being called that anymore,” said Jasmel. “She wants to be just Mega.”

Mega was her real name; Megameg was a diminutive form. Ponter felt a wave of sadness washing over him. His big girl was all grown up, and his little girl was growing up fast. “Ah,” he said. “Where’s Mega, then?”

“Playing with friends,” said Jasmel. “You’ll see her later.”

Ponter nodded. “And what have you two got in mind for this morning?”

“We thought we’d all play a game of ladatsa,” offered Tryon.

Ponter looked at the young man. He was handsome, Ponter supposed, with wide shoulders, a wonderfully prominent browridge, a sharply defined nose, and deep purple eyes. But he’d adopted some of the affectations of youth. Instead of letting his reddish blond hair part naturally down the center, he was forcing it all to his left side, presumably holding it in place with some sort of goop.

Ponter was about to say yes to the offer of ladatsa — it had been many ten months since he’d kicked a ball-but he thought back to himself at this age, twenty years ago, when he’d been courting Klast. The last thing he’d have wanted was Klast’s father hanging around.

“No,” he said. “You two run along. I’ll see you this evening for dinner.”

Jasmel looked at her father, and he could see that she knew it wasn’t what he really wanted. But Tryon was no fool; he immediately thanked Ponter, took Jasmel’s hand, and started her walking away.

Ponter watched them go. Jasmel would presumably give birth to her first the year after next, when generation 149 was scheduled to be born. Things would change then, Ponter thought. He’d at least have a grandchild to look after when Two became One.

The hover-bus had long since departed, going back to the Rim to fetch another load of men. Ponter turned and started heading into town. Perhaps he’d get a bite to eat, and His heart jumped. This was the last person he’d expected to see, but But there she stood, as if waiting for him.