Adulthood Rites

Macy came back several times. He carved things of wood while he sat with Akin, and the smells of his woods were an announcement of his coming. He began to talk to Akin—to speculate about what had happened to Amma and Shkaht, to speculate about children he might someday father, to speculate about Mars.

This told Akin for the first time that Gabe and Tate had spread the story, the hope that he had brought.

Mars.

“Not everyone wants to go,” Macy said. “I think they’re crazy if they stay here. I’d give anything to see homo sap have another chance. Lina and I will go. And don’t you worry about those others!”

At once, Akin began to worry. There was no way to hurry metamorphosis. Bringing it on so traumatically had nearly killed him. Now there was nothing to do but wait. Wait and know that when Humans disagreed, they sometimes fought, and when they fought, all too often they killed one another.

5

Akin’s metamorphosis dragged on. He was silent and motionless for months as his body reshaped itself inside and out. He heard and automatically remembered argument after argument over his mission, his right to be in Phoenix, the Human right to Earth. There was no resolution. There was cursing, shouting, threats, fighting, but no resolution. Then, on the day his silence ended, there was a raid. There was shooting. One man was killed. One woman was carried off.

Akin heard the noise but did not know what was happening. Pilar Leal was with him. She stayed with him until the shooting was over. Then she left him for a few moments to see that her husband was all right. When she returned, he was trying desperately to speak.

Pilar gave a short, startled scream, and he knew he must be doing something that she could see. He could see her, hear her, smell her, but he was somehow distant from himself. He had no image of himself and was not sure whether he was causing any part of his body to move. Pilar’s reaction said he was.

He managed to make a sound and knew that he had made it. It was nothing more than a hoarse croak, but he had done it deliberately.

Pilar crept toward him, stared at him, “ Est´ despierto? ” she demanded. Was he awake?

“SÍ,” he said, and gasped and coughed. He had no strength. He could hear himself, but he still felt distanced from his body. He tried to straighten it and could not.

“Do you have pain?” she asked.

“No. Weak. Weak.”

“What can I do? What can I get for you?”

He could not answer for several seconds. “Shooting,” he said finally. “Why?”

“Raiders. Dirty bastards! They took Rudra. They killed her husband. We killed two of them.”

Akin wanted to slip back into the refuge of unconsciousness. They were not killing each other over the Mars decision, but they were killing each other. There always seemed to be reason for Humans to kill each other. He would give them a new world—a hard world that would demand cooperation and intelligence. Without either, it would surely kill them. Could even Mars distract them long enough for them to breed their way out of their Contradiction?

He felt stronger and tried to speak to Pilar again. He discovered she was gone. Yori was with him now. He had slept. Yes, he had a stored memory of Yori coming in, Pilar reporting that he had spoken, Pilar going out. Yori speaking to him, then understanding that he was asleep.

“Yori?”

She jumped, and he realized she had fallen asleep herself. “So you are awake,” she said.

He took a deep breath. “It isn’t over. I can’t move much yet.”

“Should you try?”

He attempted a smile. “I am trying.” And a moment later, “Did they get Rudra back?” He had not known the woman, though he remembered seeing her during his stay in Phoenix. She was a tiny brown woman with straight black hair that would have swept the ground if she had not bound it up. She and her husband were Asians from a place called South Africa.

“Men went after her. I don’t think they’re back yet.”

“Are there many raids?”

“Too many. More all the time.”

“Why?”

“Why? Well, because we’re flawed. Your people said so.” He had not heard her speak so bitterly before.

“There were not so many raids before.”

“People had hope here when you were a baby. We were more formidable. And

our men had not begun raiding then.”

“Phoenix men raiding?”

“Humanity extinguishing itself in boredom, hopelessness, bitterness

I’m surprised we’ve lasted this long.”

“Will you go to Mars, Yori?”

She looked at him for several seconds. “It’s true?”

“Yes. I have to prepare the way. After that, Humanity will have a place of its own.”

“What will we do with it, I wonder?”

“Work hard to keep it from killing you. You’ll be able to live there when I’ve prepared it, but your lives will be hard. If you’re careless or can’t work together, you’ll die.”

“We can have children?”

“I can’t arrange that. You’ll have to let an ooloi do it.”

“But it will be done!”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “Then I’m going.” She watched him for a moment. “When?”

“Years from now. Some of you will go early, though. Some of you must see and understand what I do so that you’ll understand from the beginning how your new world works.”

She sat watching him silently.

“And I need help with other resisters,” he said. He strained for a moment, trying to lift a hand, trying to unknot his body. It was as though he had forgotten how to move. Yet this did not concern him. He knew he was simply trying to rush things that could not be rushed. He could talk. That had to be enough.

“I probably look a lot less Human than I did,” he continued. “I won’t be able to approach people who used to know me. I don’t like being shot or having to threaten people. I need Humans to talk to other Humans and gather them in.”

“You’re wrong.”

“What?”

“You need mostly Oankali for that. Or adult constructs.”

“But—”

“You need people who won’t be shot on sight. Sane people only shoot Oankali by accident. You need people who won’t be taken prisoner and everything they say ignored. That’s the way Human beings are now. Shoot the men. Steal the women. If you have nothing better to do, go raid your neighbors.”

“That bad?”

“Worse.”

He sighed. “Will you help me, Yori?”

“What shall I do?”

“Advise me. I’ll need Human advisors.”

“From what I’ve heard, your mother should be one of them.”

He tried to read her still face. “I didn’t realize you knew who she was.”

“People tell me things.”

“I’ve chosen a good advisor, then.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can leave Phoenix except with the group that goes to Mars. I’ve trained others, but I’m the only formally trained doctor. That’s a joke, really. I was a psychiatrist. But at least I have formal training.”

“What’s a psychiatrist?”

“A doctor who specializes in the treatment of mental illness.” She gave a bitter laugh. “The Oankali say people like me dealt with far more physical disorders than we were capable of recognizing.”

Akin said nothing. He needed someone like Yori who knew the resisters and who seemed not to be afraid of the Oankali. But she must convince herself. She must see that helping Humanity move to its new world was more important than setting broken bones and treating bullet wounds. She probably already knew this, but it would take time for her to accept it. He changed the subject.

“How do I look, Yori? How much have I changed?”

“Completely.”

“What?”

“You look like an Oankali. You don’t sound like one, but if I didn’t know who you were, I would assume you were a small Oankali. Perhaps a child.”

“Shit!”

“Will you change any more?”

“No.” He closed his eyes. “My senses aren’t as sharp as they will be. But the shape I have is the shape I will have.”