“Well, the second generation of Nar is still a thousand years off. Maybe we’ll think of something by then. In the meantime, we’ll do our best for Theth-theth and the others.”
“We’ve got to make sure that they grow up to be equal partners in whatever kind of society we develop, at the very least.”
“Yes,” Bram said.
Jao brightened. “We’ll work something out. At least we have this little corner of the universe to ourselves, for this hour of cosmic time, to do with what we want. Still no intelligent signals from the Milky Way, and when we hear any, it’ll probably be the Cuddlies. But there’s one thing I can’t help thinking of…”
The summer heat and the digesting lunch made Bram too relaxed and comfortable to get really alarmed, but he knew that tone in Jao’s voice. He sat up straighter against the bole of the resurrected oak tree and said, “What?”
“It’s been almost seventy-five million years since Original Man began broadcasting his genes to the universe. That shell of signals is still expanding. It’s reached its target, the Virgo Cluster, by now and enveloped hundreds—thousands—of galaxies…”
“Go on.”
“Does the human race exist elsewhere in the universe?”
“We couldn’t possibly know,” Bram said. “Not for another seventy-five million years, at best.”
“There’s one other thing.”
Bram sighed. “I think I know what it is.”
“We’ve been edited. Oh, just for health, intelligence—things like that. And for all we know, the Nar did a little editing of their own. We did with them, so they could eat what we eat.” He paused. “If these other human races out there were edited by their makers—what are they going to be like?”
They grinned at each other. “We’ll just have to wait and see,” Bram said.