There would always be women who desperately yearned to bear children, but who for one reason or another could not fulfill their destiny. In
earlier ages, most of them would have been doomed to spinsterly frustration; indeed, even in this world of 2276, many of them still were. There were more would-be mothers than the controlled birth rate could satisfy, but those who were especially disadvantaged could find some compensation here. The losers in the lottery of Fate could yet win a consolation prize, and know for a few months the happiness that would otherwise be denied them.
And so the World Computer had been programmed as an instrument of compassion. This act of humanity had done more than anything else to silence those who objected to cloning.
Of course, there were still problems. All these Mothers must know, however dimly, that soon after birth they would be separated forever from the child they were to bring into the world. That was not a sorrow that any man could understand; but women were stronger than men, and they would get over it -more often than not by taking part again in the creation of another life.
Duncan remained in the shadows, not wishing to be seen and certainly not wishing to get involved. Some of those incipient Mothers could crush him to a pulp if they grabbed him and whirled him into the dance. He had now noticed that a handful of men -presumably medical orderlies or staff from the clinic-were circulating light-heartedly with the Mothers and entering into the spirit of the festivities.
He could not help wondering if there had also been some deliberate psychological selection here. Several of the men looked very effeminate, and were treating their partners with what could only be called sisterly affection. They were obviously dear friends; and that was all they would ever be.
No one could have seen, in the darkness, Duncan’s smile of amused recollection. He had just remembered-for the first time in years-a boy who had fallen in love with him in his late teens. It is hard to reject anyone who is devoted to you, but although Duncan had good-naturedly succumbed a few times to Nikki’s blandishments, he had eventually managed to discourage his admirer, despite torrents of
tears. Pity is not a good basis for any relationship, and Duncan could never feel quite happy with someone whose affections were exclusively polarized toward one sex. What a contrast to the aggressive normality of Karl, whq, did not give a damn whether he had more affairs with boys or girls, or vice versa.
At least, until the Calindy episode … These memories, so unexpectedly dredged up from the past, made Duncan aware of the complicated emotional crosscurrents that must be sweeping through this place. And he suddenly recalled that disturbing conversation-or, rather, monologue-with Sir Mortitimer Keynes…. That he would follow in the steps of Colin, and of Malcolm before, was something that Duncan had always taken for granted, without any discussion.
But now he realized, rather late in the day, that there was a price for everything, and that it should be considered very carefully before the contract was finally signed.
Cloning was neither good nor bad; only its purpose was important. And that purpose should not be one that was trivial or selfish.
GOLDEN REEF
The vivid green band of palms and the brilliant white crescent of the perfect beach were now more than a kilometer away, on the far side of the barrier reef. Even through the dark glasses which he dared not remove for a moment, the scene was almost painfully bright; when he looked in the direction of the sun, and caught its sparkle off the ocean swell, Duncan was completely blinded. Though this was a tritling matter, it enhanced his feeling of separation from all his companions.
True, most of them also wore dark glasses-but in their case it was a convenience, not a necessity.
Despite his wholly terrestrial genes, it seemed that he had adapted irrevocably to the light of a world ten times farther from the sun.
Beneath the smoothly sliding flanks of the triple hull, the water was so clear that it added to Duncan’s feeling of insecurity. The boat seemed to be hanging in midair, with no apparent means of support, over a dappled sea bed five or ten meters below. It seemed strange that this should worry him, when he had looked down on Earth from orbit, hundreds of kilometers above the atmosphere.
He was startled by a sudden, distant crash, altogether out of place on this idyllic ally peaceful morning. It came from somewhere out at sea, and Duncan spun around just in time to see a column of spray slowly falling back into the water. Surely no one would be allowed to set off submarine explosions in this area…. Now there was a jet of vapor, which rose slanting from the sea, hung for a moment in the bright sunlight, and gradually dispersed.
For a full minute, nothing else happened. And then Duncan was paralyzed with astonishment. With unbelievable slowness, but with the inevitability of some continent rising from the primordial depths, a vast gray shape was soaring out of the sea. There was a flash of white, as monstrous flukes slammed against the waves and created another cloud of spray. And still that incredible bulk continued to climb, as if defying gravity, until it was completely clear of the water, and hung poised for a moment above the blue ledge of the horizon. Then, still in slow motion, as if reluctant to leave an alien element, it fell back into the ocean and vanished beneath a final geyser of spray. The booming crash seemed to come ages later.
Duncan had never imagined such a spectacle, but he had no need of any explanation. Moby Dick was one of the thousands of Terran classics he knew only through repute, but now he understood how Herman Melville must have felt when, for the first time, he saw the sea furrowed by a
glistening back as large 210 as an overturned ship, and conceived in the image of the white whale a symbol of the forces that lie behind the universe.
He waited for many minutes, but the giant did not leap again, though from time to time there were brief spouts of vapor, becoming more and more distant until they vanished from sight.
“Why did it do that?” he asked Dr. Todd, his voice still hushed by the lingering aura of departed majesty.
“Nobody really knows. It may be pure joie de vivre. It may be to impress a lady friend. Or it may be merely to get rid of parasites-whales are badly infested with barnacles and lampreys.”
How utterly incongruous, thought Duncan. It seemed almost an outrage that a god should be afflicted with lice.
Now the trimaran was slowing down, and the sheer strangeness and beauty of the underwater scene captured his attention so completely that Duncan forgot his remoteness from land. The fantastic shapes of the corals, and the colors of the fish that sported or sauntered among them, were a revelation. He had already been astounded by the vexiety of life on land; now he saw that it was far exceeded by the reckless profusion of the sea.
Something like an antique jet plane went flapping slowly past, with graceful undulations of its spotted wings. None of the other fish took any notice. To Duncan’s surprise, there was no sign of the carnage he had expected to witness, in this realm where everything fed on everything else.
In fact, it was hard to imagine a more peaceful scene; the few fish that had been chasing others were obviously doing so merely to protect their territory. The impression he had gathered from books and films had been almost wholly misleading. Cooperation, not competition, seemed to rule the reef.
The trimaran came to a halt, the anchor was thrown out-and was followed almost instantly by three rubber dinghies, four doctors, five nurses, and a mass of diving equipment. The scene appeared to
Duncan to be one of utter confusion; actually, it was much better planned and disciplined than he realized. The swimmers promptly divided into groups of three, and each trio went off with one of the dinghies, heading in a purposeful manner toward spots that had obviously been chosen in advance.