My daughters, he said. I have two daughters, Jasmel Ket and Megameg Bek.
Marys jaw dropped slightly. It hadnt even occurred to her to think about Ponters family. How old are they?
The older one, said Ponter, isI know in months, but you reckon time mostly in years, do you not? The older one isHak?
Haks female voice chimed in. Jasmel is nineteen years old; Megameg is nine.
My goodness, said Mary. Will they be okay? What about their mother?
Klast died two tenmonths ago, said Ponter.
Twenty months, added Hak, helpfully. One-point-eight years.
Im sorry, said Mary softly.
Ponter nodded slightly. Her cells, in her blood, they changed
Leukemia, Mary said, providing the word.
I miss her every month, said Ponter.
Mary wondered for a moment if Hak had translated that just right; surely Ponter meant he missed her every day. To have lost both parents
Yes, said Ponter. Of course, Jasmel is an adult now, so
So she can vote, and so forth? asked Mary.
No, no, no. Did Hak do the math incorrectly?
I most certainly did not, said Haks female voice.
Jasmel is far too young to vote, said Ponter. I am far too young to vote.
How old do you have to be in your world to vote?
You must have seen at least 667 moonstwo-thirds of the traditional thousand-month lifetime.
Hak, evidently wanting to dispel the notion that it was mathematically challenged, quickly supplied the conversions: One can vote at the age of fifty-one years; a traditional lifespan averaged seventy-seven years, although many live much longer than that these days.
Here, in Ontario, people get to vote when they turn eighteen, said Mary. Years, that is.
Eighteen! exclaimed Ponter. That is madness.
I dont know of any place where the voting age is higher than twenty-one years.
This explains much about your world, says Ponter. We do not let people shape policy until they have accumulated wisdom and experience.
But then if Jasmel cant vote, what is it that makes her an adult?
Ponter lifted his shoulders slightly. I suppose such distinctions are not as significant on my world as they are here. Still, at 250 months, an individual does take legal responsibility for himself or herself, and usually is on the verge of establishing his or her own home. He shook his head. I wish I could let Jasmel and Megameg know that I am still alive, and am thinking about them. Even if there is no way I can go home, I would give anything just to get a message to them.
And is there really no way for you to go home? asked Mary.
I cannot see how I could. Oh, perhaps if a quantum computer could be built here, and the conditions that led to my transfer could be precisely duplicated. But I am a theoretical physicist; I have only the vaguest of senses of how one builds a quantum computer. My partner, Adikor, knows how, of course, but I have no way of contacting him.
It must be very frustrating, said Mary.
I am sorry, said Ponter. I did not mean to shift my problems to you.
Thats all right, said Mary. Is thereis there anything we, any of us, can do to help?
Ponter said a single, sad-sounding Neanderthal syllable; Hak rendered it as No.
Mary wanted to cheer him up. Well, we shouldnt be in quarantine too much longer. Maybe after were out, you can travel around, see some sights. Sudbury is a small town, but
Small? said Ponter, deep-set eyes wide. But there areI do not know how many. Tens of thousands at least.
The Sudbury metropolitan area has 160,000 people in it, said Mary, having read that in a guidebook in her hotel room.
One hundred and sixty thousand! repeated Ponter. And this is a small town? You, Mare, come from somewhere else, do you not? A different town. How many people live there?
The actual city of Toronto is 2.4 million people; greater Torontoa continuous urban area with Toronto at its heartis maybe 3.5 million.
Three and a half million? said Ponter, incredulously.
Give or take.
How many people are there?
In the whole world? asked Mary.
Yes.
A little over six billion.
A billion is a thousand times a million?
Thats right, said Mary. At least here in North America. In Britainno, forget it. Yes, a billion is a thousand million.
Ponter sagged in his chair. That is a a staggering number of people.
Mary raised her eyebrows. How many people are there on your world?
One hundred and eighty-five million, said Ponter.
Why so few? asked Mary.
Why so many? asked Ponter.
I dont know, replied Mary. I never thought about it.
Do you notin my world, we know how to prevent pregnancy. I could perhaps teach you
Mary smiled. We have methods, too.
Ponter lifted his eyebrow. Perhaps ours work better.
Mary laughed. Perhaps.
Is there enough food for six billion people?
We mostly eat plants. We cultivatea bleep; Haks convention upon hearing a word that wasnt yet in its database and that it couldnt figure out from contextwe grow them deliberately. Ive noticed you dont seem to like breadanother bleepum, food from grain, but bread, or rice, is what most of us eat.
You manage to comfortably feed six billion people with plants?
Well, ah, no, said Mary. About half a billion people dont have enough to eat.
That is very bad, said Ponter, simply.
Mary could not disagree. Still, she realized with a start that Ponter had, to this point, been exposed only to a sanitized view of Earth. Hed seen a little TV, but not enough to really open his eyes. Nonetheless, it did indeed seem that Ponter was going to spend the rest of his life on this Earth. He needed to be told about war, and the crime rate, and pollution, and slaverythe whole bloody smear across time that was human history.
Our world is a complex place, said Mary, as if that excused the fact that people were starving.
So I have seen, said Ponter. We have only one species of humanity, although there were more in the past. But you seem to have three or four.
Mary shook her head slightly. What? she said.
The different types of human. You are obviously of one species, and Reuben is of another. And the male who helped rescue me, he seemed perhaps to be of a third species.
Mary smiled. Those arent different species. Theres only one species of humanity here, too: Homo sapiens.
You can all breed with each other? asked Ponter.
Yes, said Mary.
And the offspring are fertile?
Yes.
Ponter frowned. You are the geneticist, he said, not I, but but if they can all breed with each other, then why the diversity? Would not over time all humans end up looking similar, a mixture of all the possible traits?
Mary exhaled noisily. She hadnt quite expected to get into that particular mess so soon. Well, umm, in the pastnot today, you understand, but She swallowed. Well, not as much today, but in the past, people of one racea different bleep; a recognized word that couldnt be translated in this contextpeople of one skin color didnt have much to do with people of another color.
Why? said Ponter. A simple question, so simple, really
Mary lifted her shoulders slightly. Well, the coloration differences arose originally because populations were geographically isolated. But after that after that, limited interaction occurred due to ignorance, stupidity, hatred.
Hatred, repeated Ponter.
Yes, sad to say. She shrugged a little. There is much in my species past that Im not proud of.
Ponter was quiet for a long moment. I have, he said at last, wondered about this world of yours. I was surprised when I saw the images of skulls at the hospital. I have seen such skulls, but on my world they are known only from our fossil record. It startled me to see flesh on what to this point I had only known as bone.