The lift was a small glass enclosure with voice controls. When I spoke the code, it rose on air jets to the fifth floor and docked, just like a shuttle. It was designed to work no matter what the weather, no matter what the conditions on the ground.
Echea was not amused. Her grip on my hand grew so tight that it cut off the circulation to my fingers.
We docked at the main entrance. The building’s door was open, apparently on the theory that anyone who knew the code was invited. A secretary sat behind an antique wood desk that was dark and polished until it shone. He had a blotter in the center of the desk, a pen and inkwell beside it, and a single sheet of paper on top. I suspected that he did most of his work through his link, but the illusion worked. It made me feel as if I had slipped into a place wealthy enough to use paper, wealthy enough to waste wood on a desk.
“We’re here to see Dr. Caro,” I said as Echea and I entered.
“The end of the hall to your right,” the secretary said, even though the directions were unnecessary. I had been that way dozens of times.
Echea hadn’t, though. She moved through the building as if it were a wonder, never letting go of my hand. She seemed to remain convinced that I would leave her there, but her fear did not diminish her curiosity. Everything was strange. I suppose it had to be, compared to the Moon where space—with oxygen—was always at a premium. To waste so much area on an entrance wouldn’t merely be a luxury there. It would be criminal.
We walked across the wood floors past several closed doors until we reached Ronald’s offices. The secretary had warned someone because the doors swung open. Usually I had to use the small bell to the side, another old-fashioned affectation.
The interior of his offices was comfortable. They were done in blue, the color of calm he once told me, with thick easy chairs and pillowed couches. A children’s area was off to the side, filled with blocks and soft toys and a few dolls. The bulk of Ronald’s clients were toddlers, and the play area reflected that.
A young man in a blue worksuit appeared at one of the doors, and called my name. Echea clutched my hand tighter. He noticed her and smiled.
“Room B,” he said.
I liked Room B. It was familiar. All three of my girls had done their post-interface work in Room B. I had only been in the other rooms once, and had felt less comfortable.
It was a good omen, to bring Echea to such a safe place.
I made my way down the hall, Echea in tow, without the man’s guidance. The door to Room B was open. Ronald had not changed it. It still had the fainting couch, the work unit recessed into the wall, the reclining rockers. I had slept in one of those rockers as Kally had gone through her most rigorous testing.
I had been pregnant with Susan at the time.
I eased Echea inside and then pulled the door closed behind us. Ronald came through the back door—he must have been waiting for us—and Echea jumped. Her grip on my hand grew so tight that I thought she might break one of my fingers. I smiled at her and did not pull my hand away.
Ronald looked nice. He was too slim, as always, and his blond hair flopped against his brow. It needed a cut. He wore a silver silk shirt and matching pants, and even though they were a few years out of style, they looked sharp against his brown skin.
Ronald was good with children. He smiled at her first, and then took a stool and wheeled it toward us so that he would be at her eye level.
“Echea,” he said. “Pretty name.”
And a pretty child, he sent, just for me.
She said nothing. The sullen expression she had had when we met her had returned.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.
“I don’t want to go with you,” she said.
“Where do you think I’m taking you?”
“Away from here. Away from—” she held up my hand, clasped in her small one. At that moment it became clear to me. She had no word for what we were to her. She didn’t want to use the word “family,” perhaps because she might lose us.
“Your mother—” he said slowly and as he did he sent Right? to me.
Right, I responded.
“—brought you here for a check-up. Have you seen a doctor since you’ve come to Earth?”
“At the center,” she said.
“And was everything all right?”
“If it wasn’t, they’d have sent me back.”
He leaned his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands and placing them under his chin. His eyes, a silver that matched the suit, were soft.
“Are you afraid I’m going to find something?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“But you’re afraid I’m going to send you back.”
“Not everybody likes me,” she said. “Not everybody wants me. They said, when they brought me to Earth, that the whole family had to like me, that I had to behave or I’d be sent back.”
Is this true? he asked me.
I don’t know. I was shocked. I had known nothing of this.
Does the family dislike her?
She’s new. A disruption. That’ll change.
He glanced at me over her head, but sent nothing else. His look was enough. He didn’t believe they’d change, any more than Echea would.
“Have you behaved?” he asked softly.
She glanced at me. I nodded almost imperceptibly. She looked back at him. “I’ve tried,” she said.
He touched her then, his long delicate fingers tucking a strand of her pale hair behind her ear. She leaned into his fingers as if she’d been longing for touch.
She’s more like you, he told me, than any of your own girls.
I did not respond. Kally looked just like me, and Susan and Anne both favored me as well. There was nothing of me in Echea. Only a bond that had formed when I first saw her, all those weeks before.
Reassure her, he sent.
I have been.
Do it again.
“Echea,” I said, and she started as if she had forgotten I was there. “Dr. Caro is telling you the truth. You’re just here for an examination. No matter how it turns out, you’ll still be coming home with me. Remember my promise?”
She nodded, eyes wide.
“I always keep my promises,” I said.
Do you? Ronald asked. He was staring at me over Echea’s shoulder.
I shivered, wondering what promise I had forgotten.
Always, I told him.
The edge of his lips turned up in a smile, but there was no mirth in it.
“Echea,” he said. “It’s my normal practice to work alone with my patient, but I’ll bet you want your mother to stay.”
She nodded. I could almost feel the desperation in the move.
“All right,” he said. “You’ll have to move to the couch.”
He scooted his chair toward it.
“It’s called a fainting couch,” he said. “Do you know why?”
She let go of my hand and stood. When he asked the question, she looked at me as if I would supply her with the answer. I shrugged.
“No,” she whispered. She followed him hesitantly, not the little girl I knew around the house.
“Because almost two hundred years ago when these were fashionable, women fainted a lot.”
“They did not,” Echea said.
“Oh, but they did,” Ronald said. “And do you know why?”
She shook her small head. With this idle chatter he had managed to ease her passage toward the couch.
“Because they wore undergarments so tight that they often couldn’t breathe right. And if a person can’t breathe right, she’ll faint.”
“That’s silly.”
“That’s right,” he said, as he patted the couch. “Ease yourself up there and see what it was like on one of those things.”