Yet for Dua a little of that went quite a way and the others never seemed to have enough. There was a kind of gluttonous wiggle about them that Dua could not duplicate and that, at length, she could not endure.
That was why Rationals and Parentals were so rarely on the surface. Their thickness made it possible for them to eat quickly and leave. Emotionals writhed in the Sun for hours, for though they ate more slowly, they actually needed more energy than the others—at least for melting.
The Emotional supplied the energy, Odeen had explained (pulsing so that his signals were barely understood), the Rational the seed, the Parental the incubator.
Once Dua understood that, a certain amusement began to blend with her disapproval when she watched the other Emotionals virtually slurp up the ruddy Sunlight. Since they never asked questions, she was sure they didn’t know why they did it and couldn’t understand that there was an obscene side to their quivering condensations, or to the way in which they went tittering down below eventually—on their way to a good melt, of course, with lots of energy to spare.
She could also stand Tritt’s annoyance when she would come down without that swirling opacity that meant a good gorging. Yet why should they complain? The thinness she retained meant a defter melting. Not as sloppy and glutinous as the other triads managed, perhaps, but it was the ethereality that counted, she felt sure. And the little-left and little-right came eventually, didn’t they?
Of course, it was the baby-Emotional, the little-mid, that was the crux. That took more energy than the other two and Dua never had enough.
Even Odeen was beginning to mention it. “You’re not getting enough Sunlight, Dua.”
“Yes I am,” said Dua, hastily.
“Genia’s triad,” said Odeen, “has just initiated an Emotional.”
Dua didn’t like Genia. She never had. She was emptyheaded even by Emotional standards. Dua said, loftily, “I suppose she’s boasting about it. She has no delicacy. I suppose she’s saying, ‘I shouldn’t mention it, my dear, but you’ll never guess what my left-ling and right-ling have gone and went and done—’ ” She imitated Genia’s tremulous signaling with deadly accuracy and Odeen was amused.
But then he said, “Genia may be a dunder, but she has initiated an Emotional, and Tritt is upset about it. We’ve been at it for much longer than they have—”
Dua turned away. “I get all the Sun I can stand. I do it till I’m too full to move. I don’t know what you want of me.”
Odeen said, “Don’t be angry. I promised Tritt I would talk to you. He thinks you listen to me—”
“Oh, Tritt just thinks it’s odd that you explain science to me. He doesn’t understand— Do you want a mid-ling like the others?”
“No,” said Odeen, seriously. “You’re not like the others, and I’m glad of it. And if you’re interested in Rational-talk, then let me explain something. The Sun doesn’t supply the food it used to in ancient times. The light-energy is less; and it takes longer exposures. The birth rate has been dropping for ages and the world’s population is only a fraction of what it once was.”
“I can’t help it,” said Dua, rebelliously.
“The Hard Ones may be able to. Their numbers have been decreasing, too—”
“Do they pass on?” Dua was suddenly interested. She always thought they were immortal somehow; that they weren’t born; that they didn’t die. Who had ever seen a baby Hard One, for instance? They didn’t have babies. They didn’t melt. They didn’t eat.
Odeen said, thoughtfully, “I imagine they pass on. They never talk about themselves to me. I’m not even sure how they eat, but of course they must. And be born. There’s a new one, for instance; I haven’t seen him yet— But never mind that. The point is that they’ve been developing an artificial food—”
“I know,” said Dua. “I’ve tasted it.”
“You have? I didn’t know that!”
“A bunch of the Emotionals talked about it. They said a Hard One was asking for volunteers to taste it and the sillies were all afraid. They said it would probably turn them permanently hard and they would never be able to melt again.”
“That’s foolish,” said Odeen, vehemently.
“I know. So I volunteered. That shut them up. They are so hard to endure, Odeen.”
“How was it?”
“Horrible,” said Dua, vehemently. “Harsh and bitter. Of course I didn’t tell the other Emotionals that.”
Odeen said, “I tasted it. It wasn’t that bad.”
“Rationals and Parentals don’t care what food tastes like.”
But Odeen said, “It’s still only experimental. They’re working hard on improvements, the Hard Ones are. Especially Estwald—that’s the one I mentioned before, the new one I haven’t seen—he’s working on it. Losten speaks of him now and then as though he’s something special; a very great scientist.”
“How is it you’ve never seen him?”
“I’m just a Soft One. You don’t suppose they show me and tell me everything, do you? Someday I’ll see him, I suppose. He’s developed a new energy-source which may save us all yet—”
“I don’t want artificial food,” said Dua, and she had left Odeen abruptly.
That had been not so long ago, and Odeen had not mentioned this Estwald again, but she knew he would, and she brooded about it up here in the Sunset.
She had seen that artificial food that once; a glowing sphere of light, like a tiny Sun, in a special cavern set up by the Hard Ones. She could taste its bitterness yet.
Would they improve it? Would they make it taste better? Even delicious? And would she have to eat it then and fill herself with it till the full sensation gave her an almost uncontrollable desire to melt?
She feared that self-generating desire. It was different when the desire came through the hectic combined stimulation of left-ling and right-ling. It was the self-generation that meant she would be ripe to bring about the initiation of a little-mid. And—and she didn’t want to!
It was a long time before she would admit the truth to herself. She didn’t want to initiate an Emotional! It was after the three children were all born that the time would inevitably come to pass on, and she didn’t want to. She remembered the day her Parental had left her forever, and it was never going to be like that for her. Of that she was fiercely determined.
The other Emotionals didn’t care because they were too empty to think about it, but she was different. She was queer Dua, the Left-Em; that was what they had called her; and she would be different. As long as she didn’t have that third child, she would not pass on; she would continue to live.
So she wasn’t going to have that third child. Never. Never!
But how was she going to stave it off? And how would she keep Odeen from finding out? What if Odeen found out?
2b
Odeen waited for Tritt to do something. He was reasonably sure that Tritt would not actually go up to the surface after Dua. It would mean leaving the children and that was always hard for Tritt to do. Tritt waited, without speaking for a while, and when he left, it was in the direction of the children’s alcove.
Odeen was almost glad when Tritt left. Not quite, of course, for Tritt had been angry and withdrawn so that interpersonal contact had weakened and the barrier of displeasure had arisen. Odeen could not help but be melancholy at that. It was like the slowing of the life-pulse. He sometimes wondered if Tritt felt it, too.... No, that was unfair. Tritt had the special relationship with the children.