The Arrows of Time

‘All the automators I know are on the other side,’ Ramiro said. ‘The messaging system is too beautiful to resist: it’s going to be full of problems that can only be solved with smart photonics.’

‘But you’ve resisted the allure?’

Ramiro jammed the spool of cable into his storage box. ‘I’m with you up to a point,’ he said bluntly. ‘But if you start turning this into a war, don’t expect any kind of loyalty from me.’

Pio frowned. ‘I’m not looking for violence either.’

‘Would you describe crashing a gnat into the Station as an act of violence?’

‘I had nothing to do with that,’ Pio protested.

Ramiro said, ‘All right, but I’m still interested. How would you classify it?’

Pio considered the question. ‘I suppose it’s a borderline case. There was no intention to harm anyone, but they still endangered your life and Tarquinia’s. And if they’d managed to blast half the Object into the void, we would all have been at risk.’

‘Well, there are plenty of things short of antimatter that could wipe us out,’ Ramiro said. ‘Enough damage to the cooling system. Enough damage to the farms.’

Pio said, ‘I understand that. I’m not about to ask anyone to ransack the farms – all I said was that if the Council went so far as to starve us, we’d have to take our entitlements by force.’

Ramiro pulled the lid closed on the box. ‘We need to make our opponents understand how strongly we feel. I agree with you on that. But if we lose sight of where the line is, we could all be dead very quickly.’

‘I’ve spent my life trying to keep the Peerless safe,’ Pio replied. ‘You don’t have to treat me as some kind of fanatic.’

‘All right.’ Ramiro didn’t know what more he could say. If he was going to work with Pio at all, he had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He unhooked the box from the rope and began dragging himself towards the exit, feeling more hopeful now than he had since the day of the debate. From what he’d seen of the resistance so far, they were committed but they weren’t reckless. They could take a stand and refuse to be cowed, without burning down the only home they had.

12

‘Do you want to take her for a while?’ Serena offered, holding out her daughter.

Agata couldn’t tear her gaze away from the stitches that criss-crossed Serena’s torso, pulling the skin tight over the wound where a quarter of her flesh had assumed a life of its own and torn itself free. But at least her campaign of pre-maternal gorging had paid off: she’d managed to keep all four limbs intact. The cautious approach was to resorb them first – to make as much flesh as possible available for the child – but then it could be days after the birth before new ones could be extruded. The risk if you declined to resorb them was different: Agata had heard of women whose hips were commandeered by the blastula, severing the remainder of the legs.

‘Go ahead!’ Medoro urged her.

Agata regarded the child warily, but she didn’t want to offend anyone. As the first visitor from outside the family to be invited into the recovery room, the least she could do was show an interest. ‘She’s beautiful,’ she admitted. ‘It’s just a shame we can’t grow them from the soil, like wheat.’

‘Soon,’ Medoro joked.

Agata reached over tentatively and Serena placed the child in her hands. Arianna had managed to sprout four limbs, but she was still having trouble forming fingers: six slender digits protruded from one hand, but the other limbs ended in round stubs. She stared up at Agata, frowning in puzzlement but showing no sign of fear.

‘How long until she talks?’ Agata wondered. She must have watched Pio as he was growing up, but she’d been living in a child’s timeless world herself then.

‘Five or six stints,’ Medoro replied.

‘So you have to talk to her for all that time, without getting a single reply?’

Medoro buzzed. ‘It’s not like being snubbed! She’s already listening to every word we say.’

Agata gazed into the child’s face. ‘Is that true?’ she asked Arianna. ‘But when do you start understanding?’

Arianna was struggling with something, but it wasn’t the meaning of these mysterious sounds. ‘Sorry,’ Medoro said, reaching out deftly to grab the cluster of dark faeces drifting down towards Agata’s feet. He left the room briefly and returned brushing sand from his palms.

‘And when will she learn to feed the worms directly?’ Agata asked.

‘That comes a little later. Eight stints, maybe.’

‘Better you than me.’ Agata held the child out to him; Medoro took Arianna and swung her around, eliciting chirps of delight.

Agata turned to Serena. ‘You’re both braver than I am, that’s all I can say.’

Serena was amused. ‘Brave? What’s a few days’ pain, compared to what our grandmothers did?’

‘True enough.’ Agata was tired of hearing this line from Cira, but it was hard to argue with a woman whose memory of the act was still fresh. ‘And you’re willing to do it all again?’

Serena replied without hesitation, ‘Of course. Arianna needs a brother.’