Michael Cunningham - Specimen Days

These, then, were the pilgrims. These were the emissaries to a new world.

Midway through the meal, Luke leaned over and whispered to Simon, “Geekville, U.S.A.”

“Shh,” Simon said. He returned his attention to the person seated on his left, a young dark-skinned human scientist named Lily, who had dyed her hair orange and had runes of some kind tattooed onto her cheeks and forehead and did not seem to understand that listening to an unbroken monologue about lift hydraulics in deep space might not be Simon’s idea of an interesting way to spend his entire dinner.

When the meal was over, the adults resumed their work, and the children scattered across the farmyard. Simon and Luke lingered at the table with Emory, Othea, and the baby.

Emory said, “They’re a little strange, I know. They have good hearts, though.”

“I’m sure they do,” Simon answered.

“I had twice this many when I started. But people come to their senses. They find other things to do. They fall in love with someone who doesn’t want to leave Earth forever.”

Luke said, “You really want us to come along?”

“There’s room. And Simon, I hope you won’t be offended if I say that someone as young as Luke would be particularly welcome. The adults who survive the trip at all will be quite old by the time we land on Paumanok.”

The infant gurgled on Othea’s lap. She rocked the child with a certain insistence Simon recognized as distinctly Nadian. She said, “We need the most diverse possible gene pool among our younger members.”

Luke said, “So basically you’re interested in my youth andDNA.”

“You’re Exedrol, right?” Othea asked. “Yep.”

“The deformities are not passed along genetically. Did you know that?”

“Uh-huh.”

Simon said, “I too haughty Shade also sing war, and a longer and greater one than any.” He had not meant to speak quite so loudly.

“She doesn’t mean to offend,” Emory said. “Do you, Oth? Nadians are a little more direct than we are is all.”

“I just can’t seem to get the knack of circumspection,” Othea replied, continuing to rock her child with an urgency Simon could only hope would not be damaging in some long-range, unforeseeable way. “At a certain point I simply decided to give it up altogether.”

“I find it extremely interesting,” Emory said to Simon, “that you take offense so easily. It’s not in your programming.”

“My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach,” Simon said.

“As a matter of fact,” Luke said, “being wanted for my youth and my DNA doesn’t bother me at all. In case anybody cares what I think.”

“Everybody cares what you think,” Simon said.

Luke said to Emory, “He doesn’t have any particular allegiance to the truth. Do you find that peculiar?”

“Very,” Emory answered.

“Please don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,” Simon said.

“You’re really making great progress,” Emory told him.

“Fuck you.”

“See? See what I mean?”

Later, Simon sat with Catareen in her upstairs room. Emory and Othea had returned to their work. Luke had joined the children in their farmyard games. Simon could tell from their voices that Luke had introduced certain improvements and refinements and was patiently explaining why such changes were necessary.

Catareen was asleep. Or doing that sleeplike thing.

Simon said to her, “They’re nuts, you know. The whole crew.”

She opened her eyes. She said, “You go with them.”

“I don’t know. I mean, can you picture being on a spaceship for thirty-eight years with these people?”

“You go. Happier there.”

“Why are you saying this?”

“I dream.”

“What?”

“That world. I dream.”

“What have you dreamed?”

“You go to mountains. Changed. As you want.”

“You’ve dreamed of me changed, walking in some kind of mountains?”

“Yes.”

“Have you had a dream like that before?”

“No.”

“And so you think I should go with them. You think I should spend the next thirty-eight years on a spaceship with these idiots because you dreamed I’d be happier on another planet.”

“Yes.”

“You’re crazy, too.”

She made some sort of breathy sound he had never heard from her before, a modest three-note trill.

“Did you laugh?” he asked.

“No.”

“Yes. You did. That was actual laughter. I’ll be goddamned.”

She made the sound again.

He leaned over her. He said, “Are you in pain?”

“No pain.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Dying.”

“More specific, please.”

“Less. Am less.”

“You feel like you’re less.”

“Room is big. Bright.”

“You feel like the room has gotten bigger and brighter.”

“Yes.”

“Do I seem bigger and brighter?”

“Loud, too.”

He lowered his voice. “Sorry,” he said.

“No. I like.”

“You like me being big and bright and loud?”

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes then, and slipped away.

Simon went downstairs again and walked onto the front porch of the farmhouse. The evening sky was dull red, striped with cloud tatters of livid orange. He could hear the children’s voices but could not see them. Soon, however, Luke ran into view. He was being chased by Twyla, who brandished the pool-cue spear. Her cardboard wings rattled behind her. Luke shrieked. Simon could not determine whether he was delighted or terrified.

When Luke saw Simon he immediately stopped running. He collected himself. He seemed to wish to appear as if he had never run or shrieked in his life. Twyla stopped as well. She stood examining the point of the spear, as if that had been her true objective, while Luke approached Simon on the porch.

Luke said, “Geekville, U.S.A.”

“You seem to be having a reasonably good time,” Simon answered.

“I’m mingling with the locals. I can pass for just about anything.”

He ambled up onto the porch and stood beside Simon, looking out at the deepening sky. Twyla remained where she stood, adjusting the knife on the end of the pool cue.

Luke said, “I’ve been thinking. I might want to go with them.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To tell you the truth, I like the idea of being a valued member. As opposed to being, say, stuck in Denver again, with no money.”

“I understand that.”

“And you?”

“They’re an odd bunch.”

“No question.”

“Emory thinks he could make some modifications on me during the trip.”

“That’dbegood.”

“It would.”

“And you know,” Luke said, “I’d rather go if you go, too. You’ve come to feel familiar to me.”

“Ditto.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

Luke left the porch and went back out to the place where the little Nadian stood waiting for him. She did not raise the spear as he approached. They spoke to each other softly. Simon could not make out what they said. They went off together, away from the house and the barn, in the direction of the open country.

The next morning, Catareen was more receded. She appeared smaller in the small white bed. She lay compactly atop the sheet with her eyes closed, breathing rapidly and shallowly. She had folded her hands over her abdomen. Her legs were pressed together. It appeared as if she were trying to make herself as small as possible, as if death were a narrow aperture and she had to be ready to slip through.

Apart from her rapid breathing, there was no sign of illness. And yet she was diminishing. Simon could see it. No. He could apprehend it. Her flesh was unaffected, but she was drawing in, as if some animating force were retreating inward from the skin’s surface. Her skin was darker now, more deeply emerald. It put out a slick, mineral shine. She was becoming not alive.