“All Gaia’s children are blessed,” murmured the others, as though this were a ritual response. The men and women went back to feeding.
“The job of immatures is to play and to learn to love Gaia,” said a man, taking pity on Matt’s ignorance. “They don’t work. But when they reach the age of fourteen, they are put into a dormant phase for a year or so, and knowledge of the tasks they must perform as adults is fed into their brains. It’s very intense, and Dormants take a while to recover from it. You probably went through it recently, and that’s why you can’t think straight. Don’t worry. You’ll get better soon. Everyone does before the first mating season.”
“I remember those days,” said an older man. He wiped thick, bug-infested gravy off his chin with a finger and licked off the results. “I was allowed to produce three offspring because Gaia took the first one to Herself. I always wondered which ones were mine when I tended the Brat Herd—not that it mattered. All were children of Gaia.”
“All Gaia’s children are blessed,” murmured the group. They started a discussion of past mating seasons. Matt was aware of Cienfuegos watching him with a wicked smile.
“I only wanted to find out about the children,” he protested.
“Me too,” cried Listen, and before anyone could stop her, she ran over and threw open the door. A din of high-pitched voices, shouts, and laughter poured out. Beyond was a vast space filled with gentle hills and reed-shadowed pools. Flowering bushes surrounded perfect lawns, where children of all sizes, from toddlers to the early teens, engaged in every sort of activity. Babies were being rocked in cradles by adult caretakers. Children of Listen’s age were making mud pies. Older ones observed animals and plants under the watchful gaze of teachers. Still others played games or splashed in pools or climbed trees. They shrieked for the pure joy of shrieking.
Adults in white tunics gravely comforted those who had fallen down or who’d been upset. Some of the smaller children were asleep in beds lined up under trees. Matt felt a lump in his throat. So many! All perfect, with no deadness in their eyes. They were loved. They were wanted. They were happy.
“Where did you come from?” said a caretaker from the Enclosure, sweeping Listen up in his arms. “You’re too little to be running around by yourself.”
She screamed, and Cienfuegos reacted instantly, snatching the little girl from the man’s grasp. “She’s a visitor. She’s from Outside. We’re leaving now.” He slammed the door in the face of the startled caretaker and said, “Come along, you little prehumans. We have a hovercraft to catch.”
* * *
Leaving was far easier than coming in. A shuttle cart from Exit took them to the room where their clothes were. After changing, a door opened and they found themselves outside, next to the holoport. “¡Vete!” shouted Cienfuegos, scaring off a coyote that was sniffing around the door of the hovercraft. “You’d like some owl tacos, wouldn’t you?” He hurled a stone after the fleeing animal.
The jefe produced bottles of water and sandwiches for all of them. Listen was so tired, she started crying. Cienfuegos unrolled a foam mattress in front of the owl cages and told her to lie down. “I forgot how short your legs are, chiquita. I’m not used to little kids.”
“Y-you rescued me.” She sniffled. “That man was going to lock me up in the Brat Enclosure, and I’d never see Mbongeni again.” She broke into loud sobs exactly like her night terrors that had awakened Matt.
“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” he said, his hand trembling over the distraught girl as though she were a flame he dared not touch. “Oh, damn all microchips! Damn everything!” Cienfuegos hurled himself from the hovercraft and disappeared among the mesquite trees. It was so sudden and unexpected that Listen was stopped in mid-howl. She stared at the empty door, still shaking.
Matt scooted over and held her as he’d seen the adults hold unhappy children in the Brat Enclosure. “It’s all right,” he said, rocking her back and forth. “People like Cienfuegos are warriors, muy feroz. They don’t know how to be gentle. He’s like the coyote, always running, and sometimes he bites. But trust me, he’s not angry at you.” He’s angry at the microchip in his brain, Matt thought. Something about Listen upset him. I wonder what it was.
The little girl sucked her thumb and watched the door. Eventually she stretched out on the mattress and fell asleep.
Cienfuegos didn’t return, and Matt worried about what to do. He couldn’t fly such a complicated hovercraft. He checked the water in the owl cages, and they fluffed their feathers at him. He pulled the door closed. Who knew what was lurking outside? When Listen woke up, he told her one of Celia’s stories about how Noah put all the animals in a boat and saved them from a flood.