“As a matter of fact I do. See these three fingers?” He raised his hand. “Crushed playing rocket polo. They’re replacements from my donor double.”
“Pardon my boldness,” Hali said, “but the donor double— doesn’t he mind?“
“He can’t mind—he’s kept asleep all his life.”
“Are you certain?”
“Of course I’m certain,’’ Nick said irritably. “They keep him drugged.’’
“Have you ever seen him?”
“No, you’re not supposed to. It can be psychologically damaging.”
“But in truth he is a man like yourself.”
“No.” Nick tried to be patient. “He was artificially created. If my parents hadn’t had the zygote twinned, he wouldn’t exist.”
“Or else”—she smiled slightly—“you wouldn’t. Am I mistaken in believing that identical twins are brothers and neither is the original?”
Nick had never thought of it that way; now he had a vision, a man like himself locked in a long black box, feeding and excreting through tubes and exercised by machines, half existing in a twilight dream while organs were plucked from his body like ripe fruit.
V
“One more thing to show you before we go back to the hotel.”
They had left the laboratory compound, passed the security gate out into the surrounding gardens where the general public were permitted to visit. Crowds of tourists, human and alien, swarmed about the visitors’ kiosks buying plastic icons of their favorite Lifestylers, little chains of DNA in transparent domes, holoslides of the Mutagen Labs. Nick pushed his way through, making a path for Hali, and they took a place on the slidewalk.
“Where are we going?”
“To the zoo. It’s a brand-new exhibit—they just built it this year.”
“Ah! There was a zoo on Terra I visited often, the San Diego zoo. The sight of bears and lions and elephants gave me great pleasure.”
“This is a different kind of zoo.”
“What kind?”
“You’ll see.”
The slidewalk carried them past a row of cages: an elephant only two feet tall and shocking pink in color; a mahogany cockroach the size of a car which skittered along the walls with quivering antenna; a dog with gills to breathe underwater; and a fish which walked, not very comfortably it seemed, on land.
Nick explained how these “hybrids” had been developed from existing animals by altering the DNA. They were fanciful creations, like the Lifestylers, devised with no purpose in mind but to charm and intrigue the observer.
Next the slidewalk brought them to a place where they could ride a “Pegasus”—a flying horse tethered on several hundred yards of line—for five credits. Nick goaded her, but Hali didn’t have the nerve. It looked too precarious, way up in the air, supported by those two stubby wings.
The slidewalk dipped into a shallow valley. Deep ravines had been dug, leaving islands a quarter mile in diameter, landscaped with ferns like great lacy fans, and seething, bubbling swamps. Weather generators laid a blanket of mist across the floor of the valley and drove the temperature up to 90°.
“At the San Diego zoo,” Hali said, “they had llamas. Have you ever seen a llama?”
Nick shook his head.
“They are horselike beasts, noble and distinguished yet terribly stupid, always reminding me of certain pompous humans. My people believe that the Maker made animals to help us laugh at ourselves. I could not help but laugh when I—oh my goodness?'
Hali grabbed onto Nick’s cape and hid her head against his chest.
He laughed. “It’s okay, it can’t hurt you.”
“But what in the name of heaven is it?”
She peeked from the shelter of his cape; seeing that the hideous creature was confined by a ravine, she loosened her hold on him. Now she let go altogether, pulled herself erect and tried to recover some of her dignity.
The beast which had appeared from behind one of the rock walls was easily twenty feet tall and nearly forty-five feet in length, counting the tail it leaned on for support. Its legs were massive pistons, its arms grotesquely delicate and its gaping mouth jammed with ivory daggers. Scaly skin hanging loose across its body shimmied as it scurried to the edge of the ravine.
“Yes, and what did you say this creature is?” Hali asked, struggling to maintain her composure.
“It’s a Terran reptile called tyrannosaurus rex, which became extinct seventy million years ago!” Nick was bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Remember what I told you about clones?”
Hali nodded but couldn’t seem to find her voice.
“Well, Terran archaeologists found a scrap of tyrannosaurus skin sealed in resin. They sent it to us and we took the nuclei from the cells and embedded them in alligator egg cells. One of them took and grew up to be Lambie Pie here—that’s what we call her.”
Perhaps the mention of the name triggered a response in that pea-size brain, for now Lambie Pie leaned across the ravine and took a swipe with one three-fingered claw. The talons were like sickles.
“How nice,” Hali said. “Perhaps we should be going.”
“The brontosaurus is about twice that size.”
“We will see him next time,” she said firmly and, seizing Nick by the cape sleeve, pulled him back to the slidewalk.
VI
That night Senator Harry Harmon was holding a reception in Hali’s honor. She invited Nick to escort her and reluctantly he agreed. As they rode in a MagLev cab to the senator’s mansion at the outskirts of Averyville, she asked if Nick were any relation to the important statesman.
“He’s my father,” Nick replied.
“I am glad to know it!”
“Why?”
“Because if he is your father, then he must be a man of qualities. I was worried that the reception would be only politicians, men who, as my people say, trade love for power.”
She had changed into layers of long gauzy sheaths, each a different pastel shade, like the skirts of a rainbow jellyfish. Her eyes were outlined in black and a golden sunstone gleamed from her forehead. The scintillation of her skin was such that she appeared to be illuminated from within.
“Love for power,’’ Nick murmured. “That’s a pretty good description of the senator.”
Nick was wearing his best jeweled codpiece, knee-high dress boots and a flashy turquoise cape embroidered with symbols of the Lifestylers. The odor of his new musk apres-depilatory cream was a little overwhelming.
“What about politicians on Alta-Ty?” Nick asked.
“There are no politicians on Alta-Ty.”
“No? Who runs the government?”
“There is no government.”
“Then how,” Nick asked, upset, “do you get anything done?”
“I might better ask the question of you.” Hali smiled.
“But what about group decisions? I mean, who decided that you would be an emissary?”
“Everyone.”
“Yes, but how? Everyone on the planet didn’t suddenly agree to send you. Did they?”
“Not precisely. The decision took several weeks. You must understand, Mr. Harmon, Alta-Tyberians are very different from humans. I may not seem so, but I was raised with humans.
“Humans argue, this I have observed. Whenever anyone has an idea someone else appears to propose the opposite. Everywhere there are dualities. You are divided into two empires, the Federation and the Alliance, and two parties within the Federation. Within the parties, I am given to understand, there is a liberal faction and a conservative one, and within the liberal a right and left wing. And so forth and so on. Endless dualities. It is because for you arguing is a way to fortify the ego. Discord makes you feel stronger; dissent gives you the illusion of being more alive.
“For us it is different. That which is for the good of the people is obvious. Most of the time we are all in agreement. When we are in doubt about some new venture, we think about it until the doubts are cleared away.”