Reclamation(83)

Zur-Ishen ki Maliad, from “Upon Leaving Kethre”

EVRAN WAS BEGINNING TO GET on Arla’s nerves. Most of the other students had adopted a normal speed for talking around her and had begun to assume she understood what they were saying unless she told them otherwise. Not Evran. He talked to her like he might to a three-year-old, and when she bothered to respond long enough to let him know she thought he was a fool, he’d smile indulgently and say she just didn’t understand yet.

He’d taken to following her around the lab, lecturing as he went. Right now he was leaning his buttocks against one of the unused analysis tables, delivering his unbroken stream of philosophy, or science, or whatever it was, and trying to touch her on her arm if she was stupid enough to get close to him. It was just about enough to drive her insane. Not because the tasks were particularly difficult, but because she was still learning how to read without help and she needed all her concentration to get the notes of new instructions that Zur-Iyal and the others had left for her.

She cast a longing glance out the window toward the fields and cattle pens and then a quick one at the clock. Two hours before her shift was over. Two more hours for this fool to sit there and yammer.

“… I know Allenden and the others are trying to tell you that your genetics, your body, you understand, Arla? are the final determination of your existence, I mean, that you’ve got no choice, you understand, because you were so carefully built, but in reality you’ve got more choice than we do, you understand, because …”

Arla bent more closely over her notepad display, trying to decipher the instructions Myra Lar ki Novish had left for her.

… check the monitors on the B series protein cross sections. If any of them read over … Her lips moved while she read on her own, a habit she was trying to break. Her free hand dropped down to her pouch of stones, as if just touching the leather could help her. She pulled her hand away.

“… You aren’t carrying the excess genetic baggage that the rest of us are, you understand? The survival instinct, the macrogenetic tribal survival instinct, I mean, it’s not natural for you to want to pass on exclusively your genes, I mean, you are not naturally inclined to warlike behavior the way we are, you understand?”

… Sixteen to the twenty-third power, is that what that says? Nameless Powers preserve me from this idiot. Yes, that’s what that says … For the HT6E enzyme concentration, call me immediately. I’ll be on line at …

“… that means, Arla, that you aren’t motivated by, I mean, you understand, you don’t cling to irrational, instinctive behavior, like we do. You make your decisions exclusively, you know that word, right? On the basis of personal experience, and that means that …”

“If you’re going to try to corrupt impressionable young minds, Evran ki Kell, you really ought to do it in a lower tone of voice.”

Arla almost cried out in relief. Zur-Allenden ki Uvarimayanus strolled through the doorway. As usual, mud covered his boots and breeches. A smile glowed on his pointed face, but it didn’t reach his eyes while he looked over Evran. For reasons Arla hadn’t gone out of her way to understand, the pair regarded each other as Heretics and would avoid each other whenever possible.

Evran stuck his chin out toward Zur-Allenden. “We’re not on Quapoc ground, Zur-Allenden. There’s no law against my talking to her.”

“But I’ll bet she wishes there was.” Arla turned away to hide her smile. “And face it, Sar Evran, Manager ki Maliad catches you trying to make her into a Determinist, she’ll boot you off-planet so hard you’ll reach Station Eight without a shuttle.”

Evran sniffed. “You are the ignorant child of an ignorant people.”

“And the Balancers decided there weren’t enough self-satisfied little shits in the universe so they sent us you.” Zur-Allenden stumped over to his corner table, leaving a whole trail of squashed leaves and earth behind. Arla groaned inwardly.

Why can’t he use the clearing room like everybody else? she thought as Zur-Allenden began stripping his boots off and leaning over the tabletop to check the results of whatever experiment he had brewing under the glass, showering more dirt everywhere.

Fortunately, Evran’s stock of insults was smaller than his stock of pedantic speeches. “Arla, think about what I’ve said and come find me when you’ve got any questions.” And he stalked out.

Zur-Allenden shook his head. “What amazes me is he says that like he thinks you’ll actually do it. Like he thinks you don’t have a brain in your head.”