“Thank you,” she said. “But it is a thing that only I can do.”
“Is it about the bad men?” asked little Blackbeard.
“No,” Toby said. “We have not seen the bad men for many days. Maybe they have gone far away. But we must still be careful, and tell others if we see them.”
One of the Mo’Hairs has gone missing, Crozier has told her privately — the red-headed one with the braids — but it may simply have strayed off while grazing. Or else a liobam got it.
Or something worse, thinks Toby: something human.
The day has been stifling. Even the afternoon thunderstorm hasn’t cleared away the humidity. Under normal conditions — but what is normal? — lust should have been drained of its supercharge by this weather; muffled, as if under a damp mattress. She and Zeb should have been limp, enervated, exhausted. But instead they’d snuck away from the others even earlier than usual, slippery with longing, every pore avid, every capillary suffused, and thrashed around like newts in a puddle.
Now it’s deep twilight. Purple darkness wells up from the earth, bats flit past like leathery butterflies, night flowers open, musking the air. They’re sitting outside in the kitchen garden for the evening breeze, what there is of it. Their fingers are loosely entwined; Toby can feel, still, a small current of electricity moving between them. Tiny iridescent moths are shimmering around their heads. What do we smell like to them? she wonders. Like mushrooms? Like crushed petals? Like dew?
“Help me out here,” says Toby. “I need more to go on, for the Crakers. They’re insatiable on the subject of you.”
“Like what?”
“You’re their hero. They want your life story. Your miraculous origins, your supernatural deeds, your favourite recipes. You’re like royalty to them.”
“Why me?” says Zeb. “I thought Crake did away with all that. They aren’t supposed to be interested.”
“Well, they are. They’re obsessed with you. You’re their rock star.”
“Lord fuck a dog. Can’t you just make up some piece of crap?”
“They cross-examine like lawyers,” says Toby. “At the very least I need the basics. The raw material.” Does she want to know about Zeb for the sake of the Crakers, or for herself? Both. But mostly for herself.
“I’m an open book,” says Zeb.
“Don’t be evasive.”
Zeb sighs. “I hate going back to all that. I had to live it, I don’t like reliving it. Who cares?”
“I do,” says Toby. And so do you, she thinks. You still do care. “I’m listening.”
“Persistent, aren’t you?”
“I’ve got all night. So, you were born …”
“Yeah, admitted.” Another sigh. “Okay. First you need to understand: we got the wrong mothers.”
“Wrong, how?” she says to the face she can barely see. A plane of cheekbone, a shadow, a glint of eye.
The Story of the Birth of Zeb
I have put on the red hat of Snowman. I have eaten the fish. I have listened to the shiny thing. Now I will tell the story of the birth of Zeb.
You don’t have to sing.
Zeb did not come from Crake, not like Snowman. And he wasn’t made by Oryx, not like rabbits. He was born, the same way you are born. He grew in a bone cave, just like you, and came out through a bone tunnel, just like you.
Because underneath our clothing skins, we are the same as you. Almost the same.
No, we do not turn blue. Though we might smell blue sometimes. But our bone cave is the same.
I don’t think we need to discuss blue penises right now.
I know they are bigger. Thank you for pointing that out.
Yes, we do have breasts. The women do.
Yes, two.
Yes, on the front.
No, I will not show them to you right now.
Because this story is not about breasts. This story is about Zeb.
A very long time ago, in the days of the chaos — before Crake cleared it all away — Zeb lived in the bone cave of his mother. And Oryx took care of him there, as she takes care of all those who live in the bone caves. And then he travelled into this world through the bone tunnel. And then he was a baby, and then he grew.
And he had an older brother whose name was Adam. But Adam’s mother was not the same mother as the mother of Zeb.
Because when Adam was very young, Adam’s mother ran away from Adam’s father.
Running away means she went very quickly to a different place. Though she may not have done any running as such. Perhaps she walked, or drove in a … So Adam never saw her any more.
Yes, I’m sure it was sad for him.
Because she wanted to mate with more than one male, not only with Zeb’s father. Or that is what Zeb’s father told him.
Yes, it was a good thing to want, and she would have been happy if she could be living with you. She could mate with four males at once, like you. She would be very happy then!
But Zeb’s father did not see it that way.
Because he had done a thing with her called marriage, and with marriage there was supposed to be one male for each female and one female for each male. Although sometimes there were more. But there were not supposed to be.
Because it was the chaos. It was a thing of the chaos. That is why you can’t understand it.
Marriage is gone now. Crake cleared it away because he thought it was stupid.
Stupid means things Crake didn’t like. There were a lot of things Crake thought were stupid.
Yes, good, kind Crake. I will stop telling this story if you sing.
Because it makes me forget what I am telling.
Thank you.
So then Adam’s father found a new woman to have marriage with, and Zeb was born. Now little Adam was not lonely, because he had a brother. And Adam and Zeb helped each other. But Zeb’s father was sometimes hurtful to them.
I don’t know why. He thought pain was good for children.
No, he was not as bad as the two bad men who were hurtful to Amanda. But he was not a kind person.
I don’t know why some people then were not kind. It was a thing of the chaos.
And Zeb’s mother was often taking a nap, or doing other things that interested her. She was not very interested in small children. And she said, “You will be the death of me.”
Death of me is hard to explain. It meant she was displeased with the things they were doing.
No, Zeb did not kill his mother. Death of me is just a thing she said. She said it a lot.
Why did she say it if it wasn’t true? It was … those people talked that way. It wasn’t true or not true. It was in between. It was a way of telling about a feeling you might have. It was a manner of speaking. A manner of speaking means …
You are right. Zeb’s mother was not a kind person either. Sometimes she helped Zeb’s father lock Zeb up in a closet.
Lock up means … closet means … It was a very small room and it was dark in there, and Zeb couldn’t get out. Or they thought he couldn’t get out. But soon Zeb learned a lot about opening closed doors.
No. His mother couldn’t sing. Not like your mothers. And your fathers. And you.
But Zeb could sing. That is one of the things he did when he was locked inside the closet. He sang.
The PetrOleum Brats
Zeb’s mother, Trudy, was the goody-goody, and Adam’s mother, Fenella, was the shag-anything trashbunny. Or that was the story told by Trudy and the Rev. Since the two of them claimed that Zeb was so freaking useless and they were so righteous, naturally he thought he’d been adopted, since he couldn’t possibly have come from two such pristine sources of DNA as them.