Horizons

EIGHTEEN

DANE SAT ON THE BENCH IN THE SMALL CELL IN THE desert of time that stretched between the arrival of his meals, weighed down by despair. The walls had been painted a dull dun color and other than the video eyes near the ceiling, contained nothing but the narrow, padded bench that served as a bed and a sink/toilet combination in one corner. The one piece coverall he wore was made of tough paper. And there was the collar. Dane leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, the air heavy, thick as soup in his lungs.

He had counted meals for awhile, then stopped, had no idea how long he had been here. Or where here was, for that matter. They had used some kind of drug on him. All that remained of the time between the murder of Aliya, Koi’s cousin, and his presence here were a few hazy images of hands and movement.

He wasn’t on Earth. The gravity here was about that of an upper residential level on NYUp, where the cheapest apartments were located. So he was still in orbit, but the sense of spin was greater than that of NYUp. Smaller platform he thought. One of the Council’s military bases? Probably.

The reasons for not taking him straight down to the World Council were probably not good ones, he thought. Which probably meant that the media on Earth didn’t know he existed. Or the dead child.

The media could rend you, but in public attention lay some measure of safety.

“Vhen he was sleepy Dane slept. The man who delivered his meals didn’t speak to him, felt nothing for him, neither hatred nor curiosity. The first guard had hated him, he wasn’t sure why. Some rumor, he supposed. That hatred had the old, familiar feel of religion. He had used the collar until Dane passed out.

Apparently someone had monitored the security videos because a different man brought the meals after that.

By now, they would have had plenty of time to analyze Aliya’s DNA and to know.

The molecules of air in the room seemed to have sensible mass, pressing against him like a thick blanket.

Aliya had been the joyous one, the one who played tag with Koi for hours, who zoomed silently up behind him to see if she could make him start and laugh. Her name for herself had had the feel of joy. I am sorry, he thought. I should have done better. And what now? He wondered if the CSF had rounded up the others. Or had they received orders to simply kill them, euthanize them like animals? Her death had been an accident, he had overheard enough from the CSF who had arrested him to know that much.

They were easy to kill, highly sensitive to a stun charge.

He must have drowsed because when he opened his eyes again, a new meal tray lay on the floor. Not hungry, he picked it up, set it on the bench beside him. Lifted the plastic cover to stare at the cold food.

Forced himself to eat the cooked and too sweet chunks of fruit and some rice, then set the tray back by the door, and lay down on the bench, hoping to sleep again. Heard the door open as the guard retrieved the tray, didn’t open his eyes.

“Visitor.” The guard’s accented voice sounded like a shout after the long silence.

Dane jerked upright, blinking, found a tall, slender Asian man standing inside the door, his expression intent.

Li Zhen. Chairman of Dragon Home. Dane swung his feet to the floor and bowed slightly. “Hello,” he said. Inane, but what the hell else was there to say? He glanced up at the video eye in the wall above him.

“What brings you here?”

“They are not monitoring this. Or recording it.”

“Then you have a lot more power than I guessed, “Dane said.

“I wish to hear from your own mouth what is the nature of these… children.” Li Zhen’s expression was severe, but his emootions quivered between fear, rage, and a point of bright, sharp hope. Dane regarded him thoughtfully. Dangerous mix, that. And he had no idea what this man wanted to hear.

”What did the CSF tell you?” he asked finally.

Li Zhen shook his head. “I wish to hear what you say. I need to hear it now.”

Dane regarded him thoughtfully. Looked once more at the video eye. “They’re not children,” he said slowly. “Most of them are adult. They just look like children.”

Li Zhen’s eyes barely narrowed at that. “Tell me more,” he snapped. “Quickly.”

Dane drew a deep breath “Sit down.” He gestured at the end of the bench. “I’ll tell you.”

Li Zhen sat, stiffiy, angled toward him, his emotions simmering. “I think they are… our evolutionary next step.” He met the Chairman’s unreadable dark eyes. “I am guessing that some squatters moved into the Hub during the dislocation during the early years of the Platforms. They managed to survive there, and even… had children. These children were conceived and born in micro gravity and lived in micro gravity.” He felt Li Zhen’s doubt like a sharp fingernail, but pressed on. “I’m guessing the phenotype must have changed within a generation or two, to judge from the few mentions of them I’ve been able to find in the axle log. They have adapted. Their bone marrow is fully functional, their bone density is quite good, although infiltrated connective tissue allows for plassticity. Cilia sweep body cavities and mucosa clear–no need for gravity. Perhaps our DNA is designed to adapt.” Dane paused as the Chairman looked briefly away, his face taut.

“But it happens only in your center… your hub?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

“Oh no.” Dane sighed. “It’s happening all over the platform to the generation being born now. Here and there. Not to all and most of them are not as extreme as Koi’s family. But a few are.” Did Koi still live? “I

… suspect another generation will see more and more children like the hub family. If… they are allowed to be born.”

“Why would they be stopped?” Li Zhen’s eyes bored into him, the crimson leap of his anger reflected in his eye. “They are human! Their DNA is human. How can anyone intervene?”

“They are not us,” Dane said harshly. “You looked at Koi. What did Ahni Huang’s brother think of him?”

That question scored.

And what of Ahni? Where was she?”Their DNA analysis won’t really matter. We have a history of destroying those who are not like us even when their humanity is unquestionable. The records will be buried, the public will look at videos and see monsters, and they will all die. Look at the records, at the history of genocides that go back as far as we have records. Go walk on the Palestine desert or Jerusalem,” he said softly. “I think you still need anti-radiation gear there.”

“That was the past,” Li Zhen rasped.

Dane thought of the first guard and the cold, depthless feel of his hatred. “I think you are naive,” he said and watched the Chairrman of Dragon Home flush. “We wanted the stars, but they are going to be better at living there than we are. We, Homo sapiens sapiens have never faced real competition. Do you really think we will handle competition well? Were you able to look at a DNA analysis of that girl?” That was another score, although the man’s face gave nothing away. “Why not?” he went on. “Why isn’t it public?

And she was one of the children, by the way. She was twelve.” He looked down at his clenched fists. “If they have analyzed her DNA, they know that she is a normal human… genetically. So why am I here?

Why the silence, Chairman? We can prevent them–restrict residency on the platforms to a year. Or require birth conntrol implants.”

“What was her name?”

Dane wondered where the pain in those four words came from.

Shook his head. “I named her Aliya. Her own name for herself wasn’t a word. They don’t use verbal language much, and their names are… images. Feelings. Hers translates to Joy. They’re telepathic, Chairman. Built in, instant communication. They can learn language if they need to, Koi’s family speaks English, but they don’t use it unless they have to.”

Li Zhen stood, lifted his wrist, and touched something there.

“Let me out,” he said.

The door opened, the guard’s shape visible just beyond it. Without a word, Li Zhen strode from the cell and the door whispered closed behind him.

He should have asked where he was. Not that it really mattered.

For a long time, Dane stared at the door, wondering what had just transpired here. The hours passed, meal trays arrived, the light never changed. Slowly, the tiny bright seedling of hope that had sprouted in his chest withered and finally it died.

His guess about the reasons for the Chairman’s visit had been wrong.