"Maybe he's training to be a lawyer," I said.
"What's a lawyer?" Loolie asked.
"Never mind. They're big and ugly and mean and they don't have any friends." Hmm, maybe this was paradise.
Loolie wasn't paying attention. "Lennie, you stop that!" She stamped her foot. "Lennie! You remember what happened to Casanova, don't you?"
Lennie was beyond hearing. He was having too good a time. The libbit didn't look all that unhappy either.
Loolie sighed loudly, "Now, I'm gonna have to tell Jason, so he can decide."
"What to do about Lennie?" I wondered if Lennie was going to be elected president soon.
"No. What to do about Hoolihan." Loolie pointed at the libbit. "We gotta decide whether to mate her again so she'll have baby bunnies, or whether to keep her corralled so she'll have baby libbits."
"Excuse me?"
Loolie looked impatient. "Don't you know anything? Bunnydogs like to fuck each other, but some of 'em grow up to be bunnymen and then they like to fuck libbits. If a bunnyman fucks a Iibbit, it makes baby libbits."
I was still trying to pick up my jaw when Loolie added, "Well, that's not actually correct. Jason says I gotta speak correctly. If one bunnyman fucks a libbit, it makes a baby libbit; but if two bunnymen fuck a libbit, it make baby bunnies."
"Oh," I managed to say.
I wished I were in Denver. I wished I were in Oakland. I wished I could talk to Dr. Fletcher right now and tell her what Loolie had just told me.
How stupid we'd been!
We'd been keeping all the creatures separated from each other. No wonder they'd never reproduced-bunnydogs and bunnymen and libbits were all the same species!
Libbits were females and bunnymen were males-they were such disparate animals, they couldn't possibly be related, but they were!
How did Jason discover all this?
How much more did these people know? And how could I get them to teach me?
And-how could I get out of here to get the information to those who most needed to know it?
13
Definition of a Monster
"I've known for years that I have no humility. It's a virtue, to be sure, but I can live with it."
-SOLOMON SHORT
Ray told me I had the freedom of the camp. I could go wherever I wanted, look at whatever I wanted.
The only constraint was a simple one, but effective. Falstaff, the Chtorran who sat by the door was my constant companion. He was a fat flabby creature, even for a Chtorran, with an annoying tendency for ruminative noises and questioning chirps. He followed me everywhere, grunting and wheezing, blinking and farting; he was a symphony unto himself, a movable feast of dark intestinal noises and incredible purple smells. I hoped to God that wasn't his language. Some of those smells could uncurl your hair.
To his. credit, though, Falstaff was a remarkably patient monster. ;,He stayed with me all afternoon while I prowled the range of the camp.
My explorations were not entirely random. I was trying to estimate how many people there were in this camp, how many vehicles, how many weapons and what kind. I didn't like the numbers I kept coming up with. This was too well organized a band. And there were too many references to other bases of operation and hidden caches of supplies and weapons.
I guessed that there might be thirty or forty adults here and maybe half that many children. Bunnydogs? I wasn't sure. I'd seen at least thirty. And at least a dozen bunnymen: Vehicles? Two more jeeps, at least, and another couple of trucks and a bus.
Wherever I went, people waved and smiled to me and asked me how I was getting along. I felt guilty for hating them and gave them cautious waves and token smiles.
The weird thing was that none of these people seemed to have any intention at all of reprogramming me, or awakening me. Or whatever it was they called it. They just wanted to befriends with me.
I just didn't know what their definition of friend was.
I was sitting under a tree, watching two millipedes chewing at what looked like a hambone-something left over from the last president?-when Jessie waved to me from across the yard and called, "How're you doing, Jim?"
I didn't know whether to answer or not. It was probably rude not to, so I shrugged and waved halfheartedly back. She came over to me then and put her hand on my shoulder. "Relax, Jim. I promise you, nobody wants to hurt you."
"Mm-hm. Sure. You're not going to hurt me. You're just going to reprogram me."
Jessie sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward. "Jim, we're not going to do anything. You're going to do it. We can't make you do anything you don't want to do."
"I don't want to be reprogrammed."
"That's the army talking, that's not you. When you know what's available to you, you'll feel like a jerk for having waited so long to take the plunge. And we don't reprogram people here, Jim. We unprogram them. But you're going to have to be willing to let go of all that old programming before anything can happen." She patted my arm and let go. "Don't worry about it-and don't be impatient. It'll happen when you're ready for it to happen. You'll let us know when you're ready. You'll ask to join the Tribe."
"Not bloody likely," I said.
Jessie laughed. "Obviously, you're still not ready yet. Why don't you go and help Valerie and Loolie pull the weeds out of the garden. At least you can make yourself useful that way."
"What if I don't?"
She shrugged. "If there's no food, we all go hungry."
"I've seen what you eat. That's not a threat."
"Try being hungry-really hungry-for a while, Jim. Then we'll see how you feel about it."
She was right.
I went and pulled weeds. Falstaff followed me. At one point, Orson joined him and the two of them spread out across the grass like big fat hairy water balloons. They crooned and farted and waited for me to do something stupid.
I was just starting on the second row of weeds when Jason came looking for me. "What are you doing that for, Jim? You're a guest. "
I straightened up, brushing the dirt from my hands. "Jessie said if I don't work, I don't eat."
Jason shook his head, frowning. "I doubt she said it that way, Jim. But I'm sure that's the way you heard it. Forget that for now. Come take a walk with me."
He took me by the elbow and we walked along a shaded lane that circled the main part of the camp. Falstaff followed grumpily behind at a distance.
"I know this is rough for you, Jim. It's always roughest on the military mind-set. Ask Ray about it. He used to be in the service. Let him tell you how he came to the light."
I shrugged. I probably would talk to Ray. How could he violate his sworn oath to uphold, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States?
"You have a question, Jim?"
"No," I said.
"Don't be a liar, Jim. You have a lot of questions. Listen to me. All we have-the only thing we have-is our language. If you use the language with precision, you'll be astonished at the results you can produce. If you use the language for imprecision-to hide behind, to befuddle, to confuse, to justify, rationalize, or excuse-then what will happen will be frustration and upset and hurt, for yourself as well as everybody around you. Of all the ways to misuse the language, lying is the most obscene misuse of all." He looked at me with intense blue eyes. His expression was very hard and very cold. There was no place to hide from that look. "Please, don't ever lie to me again."