“What’s the matter now?” Perry asked, his irritation returning. Donald was beginning to get on his nerves.
“I knew you two were optimists,” Donald grunted, “but this ambassador idea takes the cake.”
“I think it is a perfectly reasonable possibility,” Perry said.
“Listen, Mr. President of Benthic Marine!” Donald spat as if the appellation were derogatory. “These Interterrans don’t plan to let us go. If you weren’t such a hopeless optimist you’d understand that.”
Suzanne and Perry were silent as they mulled over Donald’s comment. The issue was something neither had wanted to think about much less discuss.
“You feel that they plan to keep us here forever?” Suzanne asked finally. She had to admit that nothing either Arak or Sufa had said had indicated a plan to return them to their ship back upon the ocean’s surface.
“I believe that’s what it means if they never let us go,” Donald said sarcastically.
“But why?” Perry pleaded. The anger had gone out of his voice.
“It stands to reason,” Donald said. “These people have been avoiding detection of Interterra for thousands of years. How could they feel good about letting us return to the surface knowing what we know?”
“Oh dear!” Suzanne whispered.
“Do you think Donald’s right?” Perry asked.
“I’m afraid he has a point,” Suzanne said. “There’s no reason they would be less worried about contamination now than in the past. And with our advancing technology there’s reason they should be more worried. They might be entertained by our primitiveness but I’d suspect they’re terrified of our culture’s violence.”
“But they keep referring to us as visitors,” Perry interjected. “This place we’re staying is called the visitors’ palace. Visitors don’t stay forever.” Then, irrationally, he added, “Besides, I can’t stay here forever. I’ve got a family. I mean, I’m already worried that I haven’t been able to let them know I’m okay.”
“That’s another point,” Donald said. “They know a lot about us. They know about our families. With all their technology they could have offered to us an opportunity to let our loved ones know we’re not dead. The fact that they haven’t, I believe, is more proof they intend to keep us here.”
“Good point,” Suzanne said. She sighed. “Just a half hour ago in my room I was wishing there was an old-fashioned phone so I could call my brother. He’s the only relative I have who’ll miss me.”
“No family?” Donald asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Suzanne said. “That part of my life just hasn’t come together, and I lost both parents years ago.”
“I’ve got a wife and three kids,” Donald said. “Of course, that doesn’t mean much to the Interterrans. To them the whole concept of parenthood seems quaintly out of date.”
“My god!” Perry said. “What are we going to do? We have to get out of here. There has to be a way.”
“Hey, everybody!” Michael called out from the dining room. “Soup’s on. Come and get it!”
“Unfortunately they’re holding all the cards,” Donald said, ignoring Michael who disappeared back into the dining room. “There’s nothing we can do at this point except keep our eyes open.”
“Which means taking advantage of their hospitality,” Suzanne said.
“To a point,” Donald said. “I’m never one to condone fraternizing with the enemy.”
“That’s the confusing part,” Suzanne said. “They don’t act like enemies. They’re so gracious and peaceful. It’s hard to imagine them doing anything unkind to anybody.”
“Keeping me away from my family is about as mean as I can imagine,” Perry said.
“Not from their perspective,” Donald said. “With reproduction carried out mechanically and four-year-old newborns imbued with the mind and personality of adults, there are no families in Interterra. It’s possible they cannot understand the bond.”
“What the hell are you people doing out there in the dark?” Michael shouted. He’d returned to the juncture between the dining room and the lawn. “The worker clones are waiting for you. Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I guess we might as well,” Suzanne said. “I am hungry.”
“I’m not sure I am, after this discussion,” Perry said.
They started walking toward the light spilling out onto the dark grass.
“There has to be something we can do,” Perry said.
“We can avoid offending them,” Donald said. “That could be critical.”
“What could we do to offend them?” Perry asked.
“It’s not us that I’m worried about,” Donald said. “It’s the numbskull divers.”
“What about being direct about all this?” Perry suggested. “Why not ask Arak when we meet him tomorrow whether we’re going to be able to leave? Then we’d know for sure.”
“That might be risky,” Donald said. “I don’t think we should emphasize our interest in leaving. If we do, they might curtail our freedoms. As it is now, theoretically we can call air taxis with our wrist communicators and can come and go as we please. I don’t want to lose that privilege. We may need it if there’s any chance of our breaking out of here.”
“That’s another good point,” Suzanne agreed. “But I don’t see any reason we couldn’t ask why we are here. Maybe the answer to that question will tell us whether they expect us to stay forever.”
“Not a bad idea,” Donald said. “I could go for that provided we don’t make a big deal asking. In fact, why don’t I ask tomorrow morning at the session Arak mentioned we’d be having.”
“Sounds good to me,” Suzanne said. “What do you think, Perry?”
“I don’t know what to think at this point,” Perry said.
“Come on, hurry up!” Michael said as the others entered the room. “This asshole worker clone won’t let us touch the serving dishes until everybody’s here, and he’s stronger than an ox.”
A worker clone was standing next to the center table with his hands resting on the covers of the chafing dishes.
“How did you know he was waiting for us?” Suzanne asked as she took one of the chairs.
“Well, we didn’t know for sure, since the bozo doesn’t talk,” Michael admitted. “But we’re hoping it’s the case. We’re starved.”
Perry and Donald sat down. Almost immediately the worker clone lifted the covers from the food.
“Bingo!” Richard said.
Within minutes the food was served. For a time, there was no conversation. Richard and Michael were too busy eating; the others were absorbed in thoughts of their recent conversation on the lawn.
“What were you people doing out there in the dark?” Richard asked, then burped loudly. “Talking about a funeral? You’re all so gloomy.”
No one responded.
“Lively group,” Richard muttered.
“At least we have table manners,” Donald snapped.
“Screw you,” Richard answered.
“You know, I suddenly find this strangely ironic,” Suzanne said.
“What, Richard’s table manners?” Michael questioned with a loud guffaw.
“No, our response to Interterra,” Suzanne said.
“What do you mean?” Perry asked.
“Think about what we have here,” Suzanne said. “It’s like heaven even though it’s not up in the sky like our traditional image. Nonetheless, it has everything that we consciously and unconsciously yearn for: youth, beauty, immortality, and plenty. It’s a true paradise.”
“We can attest to the beauty, eh, Mikey?” Richard said.
“Why do you find it ironic?” Perry asked, ignoring Richard.
“Because we’re worried about being forced to stay,” Suzanne said. “Everyone else dreams about getting to heaven, and we’re worried we’re not going to be able to leave.”
“What do you mean, forced to stay?” Richard demanded.
“I don’t find it ironic,” Donald said. “If my family were here with me, maybe I would. But not now. Besides, I don’t like to be forced to do anything. It may sound corny, but I value my freedom.”