Майкл Бламлейн - Longer

“No.”

“Dead?”

He got his pants as far as his ankles, but couldn’t free his legs. “When did we develop such an antagonism to other species?”

“Did you say ‘species’? Did you use that word?”

“I might have. I don’t remember.”

It was only a species if he said so publicly. From that point on, right or wrong, they would have no peace. The world would have no peace. The Hoax had proven this. Not a restful time for planet Earth.

And the instigator? The provocateur?

He’d be a hero to all the wrong people, a laughingstock to everyone else.

At present his pants were stuck. He couldn’t get them off, and was thrashing back and forth like a fish on a hook. He was a laughingstock now.

She chided herself for the thought.

“When they tried to kill us,” she said. “Or killed us, without trying. Let’s see. When did that start? How about the beginning of time.”

“Most of them don’t. Nature preaches harmony, mostly.”

“ We preach harmony. Nature preaches tooth and claw.”

“When did you get so cynical, Gunji?”

“When did you get so soft?”

He felt the opposite. Courageous. Defiant. Scared, sure, but you couldn’t be courageous if you weren’t.

“I have something to tell you,” he said.

“So tell me.”

“I love you very much.”

“You have a strange way of showing it.”

“I’m sorry. I know. What I’ve put you through the last few weeks … I can’t imagine what it’s been like. In return, you’ve shown me nothing but patience and kindness. You’ve been incredible.”

“Thank you, Cav.”

“You are incredible.”

She kissed him, then took hold of his pants and yanked.

“Nicely done,” he said.

She turned off the light.

“Have you given any more thought to your precatastrophe alarm?” he asked.

“A little. Not much. Why?”

“It’s a good idea.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“If not that, then what? What next?”

“Not sure. I have some ideas.”

“Care to share them?”

She tossed a few out, wondering where this sudden curiosity was coming from.

“Will you teach?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should. You’re a wonderful teacher. Passionate. Inspiring. I remember the first time I heard you. The lecture you gave. I haven’t been the same since.”

“That’s nice,” she said. “I might. I might try something else. I haven’t decided.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She rolled on her side, and faced his dark bulk. “How doesn’t it matter?”

“You’ll be good at whatever you do.”

“How do you know that?”

“Not only good, but happy. You’ll be happy. I know because I know you.”

“I hope I will be. I plan to be.”

“I love you, darling.”

She felt a growing uneasiness: so much affection and encouragement, welcome at any other time, only half-welcome now because of the feeling that something was off.

She rolled onto her back, and closed her eyes. “We have a busy day tomorrow. Time to sleep. Good night, Cav.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

The next time she opened her eyes, it was morning, and he was gone. She dressed, and went looking for him, checking the bay first. The HUBIES floated like hot-air balloons. It sickened her to look at them. The Ooi was yellow-green, and save for the small missing part, unchanged.

She found him with Dash in the lab, the two of them scrolling through a series of images that looked like smears of paint.

Dash looked up when she arrived. His eyes were bloodshot. His voice, tired and contrite.

“It didn’t work. Not sure why. Maybe how I mixed the stain. Or something in the transfer.”

“You said you could do it.”

“I said I’d try.”

“The slide is worthless?”

He stood aside and motioned to the images. “See for yourself.”

She ran through them rapidly. There were slashes, drips, and splotches of stain, some of them translucent, some opaque. Nothing close to informative.

“A waste,” she said.

“Maybe not,” said Cav. “Maybe it’s telling us something. There’s a message here.”

She ignored him. “You’re going to make another one?”

“I can. No guarantee.”

“Make three,” she said. “Let’s learn from our mistake.”

“It’s unnecessary,” said Cav.

“No you don’t. It is necessary.”

“It’s not.” He cleared his throat. “I have something to say.”

It sounded serious. She wished she were elsewhere. “I have something to say first. We’re done with the HUBIES. They’ve served their purpose. We have no further use for them. We should put them to sleep.”

Cav raised his eyebrows.

Dash looked like he’d been dropped from a cliff.

“We should put them out of their misery,” she added.

“They’re not in misery,” Dash reminded her.

“They’ve done what they were asked to do.”

“Made to do,” he said.

“Precisely. Cav?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. In their place he felt a flutter in his chest, as if a moth were trapped. His vision blurred. The room receded. He couldn’t feel his legs.

Abruptly, the flutter stopped.

Gunjita was staring at him.

He gathered himself. “A mercy killing.”

“You could call it that,” she said.

“I believe in mercy.”

“We all believe in mercy,” said Dash, not to be left out.

“Then we’re agreed.”

Cav frowned. “But I don’t agree. I’m sorry, but I don’t. We don’t know what mercy is in this case. What it is to them. We’re ignorant. To them it might be the opposite of what we think. How can we put them to sleep? We can’t.”

“We made them,” Gunjita retorted.

The words seemed to reverberate with self-recrimination. Neither man spoke. Moments later, when she realized what had just come out of her mouth, she rushed to explain herself.

“What I meant … We’re responsible. Without knowing what they want, we have to guess. Put ourselves in their shoes. Ask ourselves what we would want.”

Cav felt that she was talking about him. He was filled with love for her, filled with pride to be her husband, filled with admiration. But he could only say what he would want, not what they would, and what he wanted was the freedom to choose.

“We could guess,” he said gently. “I wish I could say we should. But I don’t believe it. We have no right to dictate their fate. When and how they live and die is not our business. Our business is us.

“Which leads me to what I want to say. It might ease the sting. I’m giving up the fight. No more arguing about our Ooi. No more pushing down your throats a pill that obviously doesn’t agree with you. There’s a time for talk and a time for silence.”

“Hallelujah,” she said.

“You’re changing your opinion?”

“Give an inch, they ask for a mile.” Cav shook his head, and smiled. “I’m not objecting to yours. Say whatever you like. I won’t contest or contradict anything you report.”

“What’s the catch?” asked Gunjita.

“No catch.”

She didn’t believe it. “Hear that?” she told Dash. “That ringing in your ears? That hole in the air? That vacuum? That’s the sound of a shoe not dropping.” She locked eyes with her husband. “Stop being such a pussy.”

She was right. In addition to being his soul mate, she was his weather vane. In addition to that, his rock and his pillar. He needed her, now more than ever. He needed every bit of strength he could muster.

“I have a favor to ask.”

Here it comes, she thought.