Robert Sawyer - Humans

Daklar Bolbay.

“Healthy day, Ponter,” she said.

He’d known Daklar for a long time, of course. She had been Klast’s woman-mate. Indeed, if anyone could understand what the loss of Klast had meant to Ponter, it was Daklar. But…

But she’d made things miserable for Adikor in Ponter’s absence. Accusing him of murder! Why, Adikor could no more have killed Ponter-or anyone, for that matter-than Ponter himself could have.

“Daklar,” said Ponter, forgoing the usual pleasantry.

Daklar nodded, understanding. “I can’t blame you for being displeased with me,” she said. “I know I hurt Adikor, and to hurt one’s mate is to hurt oneself.” She locked her eyes onto Ponter’s own. “I apologize, Ponter, fully and completely. I’d hoped to get here in time to say the same thing to Adikor, but I see he’s already gone.”

“You say you’re sorry,” said Ponter. “But what you did-”

“What I did was horrible,” interjected Daklar, looking down at her feet, encased in the fabric pouches at the ends of her black pant. “But I’m seeing a personality sculptor, and I’m taking medication. The treatment has only just begun, but I already feel less…angry.”

Ponter had some inkling of what Daklar had gone through. Not only had she lost the woman they had shared, dear Klast, but before that she’d lost her man-mate, Pelbon, who’d been whisked away one morning by enforcers. Oh, he’d been returned, but not whole. He had been castrated, and their relationship had crumbled.

Ponter had been enormously sad when Klast had died, but at least he’d had Adikor and Jasmel and Megameg to help him get through it. How much worse it must have been for Daklar, who had no man-mate and, because of what had been done to Pelbon, no children.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” said Ponter.

“I am,” confirmed Daklar, nodding again. “I know I’ve got a long way to go, but, yes, I am feeling better, and…”

Ponter waited for her to go on. Finally, he prodded her. “Yes?”

“Well,” she said, now avoiding his eyes, “it’s just that I’m by myself, and…” She paused again, but this time continued of her own volition. “And you’re by yourself, too. And, well, Two becoming One can be so very lonely when you have no one to spend the time with.” She briefly glanced at his face, but then looked away, perhaps afraid of what she might see there.

Ponter was startled. But…

But Daklar was intelligent, and that did appeal to Ponter. And her hair was showing wonderful streaks of gray mixed in with the brown. And But no. No. It was madness. After what she’d done to Adikor…

Ponter’s jaw twinged. It did that occasionally, but usually only on cold mornings. He brought up a hand to rub it through his beard.

His jaw had been broken, some 229 moons ago, by Adikor, during a stupid fight. Had Ponter not lifted his head in time, Adikor’s blow would have killed him.

But Ponter had lifted his head quickly enough, and, although almost half his mandible and seven teeth had needed to be replaced with synthetic duplicates, he had lived.

And he’d forgiven Adikor. Ponter had made no accusation; Adikor had been spared from the enforcers’ scalpel. Adikor had undergone treatment for anger management, and in all the months since, he’d never so much as threatened to hit Ponter or anyone else.

Forgiveness.

He’d talked a lot with Mare, over in the other world, about her belief in God, and about the putative human son of God, who had tried to inculcate forgiveness in Mare’s people. Mare had been an adherent of that man’s teachings.

And, after all, Ponter was alone. There was no telling what the High Gray Council would decide about reopening the portal to Mare’s world, and, even if they did choose to allow it, Ponter wasn’t absolutely sure that the gateway could be reestablished.

Forgiveness.

It was what he’d given Adikor half a lifetime ago.

It was what Mare’s belief system held as the highest virtue.

It was what Daklar seemed to need from him now.

Forgiveness.

“All right,” said Ponter. “You must make your peace with Adikor, but contingent on that, I dispel any animosity between us over recent events.”

Daklar smiled. “Thank you.” She paused, though, and the smile faded. “Do you wish my company-until your children are free, that is? I may be Mega’s tabant, and she and I and Jasmel still share a house, but I know you need time alone with them, and I will not interfere with that. But until then…”

She trailed off, and her eyes briefly met Ponter’s again, clearly inviting him to fill the void.

“Until then,” said Ponter, making his decision, “yes, I would be glad of your company.”

Mary Vaughan’s lab at York University was much as she had left it-not surprisingly, since, despite all the things that had happened to her, it had only been twenty-three days since she’d last been here.

Daria Klein-one of Mary’s grad students-had clearly been in repeatedly during Mary’s absence, though. Her work area had been rearranged, and the chart on the wall showing her sequencing of the ancient Egyptian Y chromosome she was working on had many more spaces filled in.

Arne Eggebrecht of the Pelizaeus Museum in Hildersheim, Germany, had recently suggested that an Egyptian body purchased from an old Niagara Falls tourist attraction might in fact have been Ramses I, founder of the line that contained Seti I, Ramses II (the one portrayed by Yul Brynner in The Ten Commandments), Ramses III, and Queen Nefertari. The specimen was now housed in Atlanta’s Emory University, but DNA samples had been sent to Toronto for analysis; Mary’s lab was world-renowned for its success in recovering ancient DNA, a fact that had led directly to her involvement with Ponter Boddit. Daria had made considerable progress on the putative Ramses in Mary’s absence, and Mary nodded approvingly.

“Professor Vaughan.”

Mary’s heart jumped. She turned around. Atall, thin man in his midsixties was standing in the lab’s doorway. His voice was deep and rough, and he had a Ronald Reagan pompadour.

“Yes?” said Mary. She felt her stomach knotting; the man was blocking the only way out of the room. He was wearing a dark gray business suit, with a gray silk tie, its knot loosened. After a moment, he stepped forward, pulled out a thin silver business-card case, and proffered a card to Mary.

She took it, embarrassed to see that her hand was shaking as she did so. It said:

SYNERGY GROUP

J. K. (Jock) Krieger, Ph. D.

Director

There was a logo: a picture of the Earth, divided neatly in half. On the left half, the oceans were black and the landmasses white, and on the right half the opposite color scheme was used. The street address given was in Rochester, New York, and the e-mail address ended in “. gov,” signifying a U.S.-government operation.

“What can I do for you, Dr. Krieger?” asked Mary.

“I’m the director of the Synergy Group,” he said.

“So I see. I’ve never heard of it.”

“No one has yet, and few will, ever. Synergy is a U.S. government think tank that I’ve been putting together over the last couple of weeks. We’re modeled more or less on the RAND Corporation, although on a much smaller scale-at least at this stage.”

Mary had heard of RAND, but really didn’t know anything about it. Still, she nodded.

“One of our principal sources of funding is the INS,” said Krieger. Mary lifted her eyebrows, and Krieger explained: “The U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service.”

“Ah,” said Mary.

“As you know, the Neanderthal incident caught us-caught everybody — with their pants down. The whole thing was over practically before it had even begun, and for the first few days we’d just dismissed it as another crazy tabloid story-like finding Mother Teresa’s face in a prune Danish, or a Bigfoot sighting.”