Aboriginal Science Fiction, Issues 57–58 — page 49: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

cages was a wild and filthy voung Pelan. Some paced like tigers, others clawed at the nearly invisible force frames. One appeared to be howling, but the sound was trapped inside the frames. Gene was so taken aback by what he saw that he blurted out, “How barbaric!” Ursula placed both palms against her shield and said a silent prayer. Then she looked at Gene and said, “They are in epos. It is necessary to keep them apart until they can wed.” “Wed!” Gene sputtered in English. “Good God! Surely not to one of those beasts! Why can’t you give them something to calm them down until they get over their ‘epos’?” That would be a — sin,” Ursula said, searching for the right word. “A sin? Just what would be so evil about making your kids a little less crazy? You Pelen can manipulate genes so well that your bugs practically deliver the mail. So, why haven’t you —” Ursula had fled at his outburst. She had stopped as suddenly, however, in front of one of the cages. Gene hurried after her. Ursula’s face was becoming discol- ored and covered with sweat. Inside the cage, a young Pelan lay in a twisted heap. His hands were wrapped around some unpleasant fruit or small animal. It was a pod, his own, for the roots trailed back and into a raw hole at his solar plexus. The pod’s jaws were convuls- ing. A mass of writhing maggots was pulsing out of it in a dark, purple fluid. Gene tried to pull Ursula away from the cage, but she wouldn’t budge, all the while pressing her hands desperately against her shield. Gene asked gently, “Should I get help?” Ursula muttered something. Gene asked, “Is he dead?” She whispered, “No, she isn’t.” For a while, Ursula stood in front of the cage, trem- bling; finally she took Gene’s hand and let him lead her away from the cage. Gene wanted to get both of them back onto the shuttle as quickly as he could. Why had he ever agreed to come? She had said she wouldn’t be able to do it without his help. He hoped she would let him help now, but he could feel her drifting, far away and lost. That made him feel very alone. They walked together through the dark, mint-scent- ed shadows of Dimitsarmyh park in silence. At one point, she started to speak, “So sad — too late —” After a while she sat down on a bench beneath a mint tree. Gene didn’t want to argue with her. Perhaps she could explain it; maybe that would make her feel better. So he asked, “Why don’t they tranquilize them?” Ursula whispered hoarsely, “If we drugged our Epos, there would be no children. You saw, but still don’t understand. Right now you are condemning us for our nature. But it is the way God made us.” Gene thought of the pathetic creature lying in its cage. “Will he be lost?” “No. She will not be lost. In a while, she will awak- en into her adulthood. Before she could ever learn what happened to her varr, she will wed. Our clan is merci- ful.” “Ursula, what, exactly, are her ‘varr’?” Gene thought he saw something of the nightless dark in her golden eyes. Nisi Granum Frumenti Aboriginal Science Fiction — Summer 1998 “Father Gene, the life of our species is regenerated in the varr. When an Epos pulls out his pod, his varr cannot survive. If they aren't nourished from the moth- er’s body, their genes are not completed. If they could, somehow, be kept alive, there would be no learning in them.” “Then, Ursula, the varr are what was in his pod?” Gene tried to hide his disgust. Ursula smiled, but it was forced. “You find your own biology disgusting, don’t you, Father Gene? You think perhaps you'd prefer to be a machine.” Gene plucked a mint tree pad and began to nibble on it, soothing his mind. “I suppose you had to go through epos yourself. Do you remember much about it?” “I — I remember nothing before my awakening. I must have transmitted my pod. I hope it was wel- comed.” She pressed both hands against her shield and looked away. Gene had wondered why she never talked about her childhood. Now he thought he understood — but then, perhaps he did not. Was the closeness he had felt with her only an illusion? “Those who have memory of things happening before their awakening cannot be civilized. Some escape into the wild and join the primitives. Some kill themselves or are discovered in time, and are destroyed.” Gene spat out the mint pod. “They would carry their gene for that memory back into the clan if they were wed.” Repchal was coming down the path toward them. As she drew near, she said, “Pardon my intrusion, Yeracl, but the Torg feels that it would be for the best if you were wed tonight.” “So soon,” said Ursula sadly. It wasn’t a question. Repchal bowed and placed her palms across her shield. “The Torg says we should assemble at the align- ment.” Gene took Ursula’s hand. “Ursula, let’s get out of here. Come back to Earth before —” She pulled her hand away. “Gene, it is too late.” “Like Hell, like bloody Hell it is!” Gene said in English. “They're sending you off to be raped by one of those filthy maniacs. Let them find some other victim for their pod full of maggots!” Ursula slapped his face. Gene felt the sting deep within his soul. He felt ashamed. She said, “Father Gene, I am going to die tonight.” That hit him harder. Something like the pit of Hell yawned ahead. “Try to understand me, Gene.” Ursula took both of his hands into hers, pressing them together. “Pray for me. I am coming apart inside. I’ve never been able to tell you about this wedding I face. I didn’t know how to make sense of it in just words. As with your people, our minds are sometimes at war with the nature of our flesh. Perhaps that is why I was attracted by your celi- bate clergy. But now I am ready to accept my own phys- ical reality and what must be for me.” Gene felt his cold reasoning soul stir. He said, “Are you talking about suicide?” Ursula shook her head from side to side as she said, “No — no — no. Remember your sermon on Nisi Gomichbooksecona