Asimov's SF, October-November 2006

by Dell Magazine Authors

  Her mother held herself motionless, mouth open and no sound worth the effort.

  “It was a big long bus with a ripper onboard. Sandor drove us through the mountains. Fast. I don't know why we didn't crash, but we didn't. We stopped at a fix-it shop and he made calls, and a hundred miles after that, we met a couple friends of his ... men that he met inside prison, I think...."

  “When was this?"

  “Wednesday,” she answered. “Those friends helped Sandor pull the ripper from the bus. They gave us a new truck and kept the capacitors and the other expensive gear for themselves. Then he and I drove maybe two miles, and that's when Sandor stole a second truck. Because he didn't quite trust his friends, and what if they decided to come take the ripper too?” She wiped at her eyes, her cheeks. “After that, we drove more than a thousand miles, but never in a straight line. By then, we'd finally decided what we were going to do, and he stole the van before we came here."

  Mom was alert, focused. She was sitting forward with her hand clenched to her daughter's knee. Very quietly, she asked, “Is it one of the stolen rippers? From that convoy?"

  Kala nodded. “The ID marks match."

  “Have you thought about giving it back to its rightful owners?"

  “We talked about that. Yes."

  But then Mom saw what had eventually become obvious to Kala. “Regardless of what you tell the owners, they'll think your brother had something to do with the robbery and murders. And what good would that do?"

  “Nothing."

  Then her mother gathered up Kala's hands, and without hesitation, she said, “God has given you a gift, darling."

  She didn't think about it in religious terms. But the words sounded nice.

  “A great rare and wonderful gift,” her mother continued. “And you know, if there is one person who truly deserves to inherit a new world, it has to be—"

  “My brother?"

  “No,” Mom exclaimed, genuinely surprised. Then as the front door swung open and Sandor stepped inside, she said brightly, “It's you, sweetness. You deserve the best world. Of course, of course, of course ... !"

  * * * *

  Their frantic days had only just begun. The Children of Forever would have learned their names from the old ranger, or maybe from Kala's abandoned car. And people who had murdered dozens to steal the ripper would undoubtedly do anything to recover what was theirs and avenge their losses. Obviously, it was best to vanish again, this time taking their mother with them. Old lives and treasured patterns had to be avoided, yet even on the run, they still had to find time and energy to make plans for what was to come next.

  Sandor knew the best places to find machinery and foodstuffs and the other essential supplies. But Kala knew where to find people—the right people—who would make this business worthwhile. And it was their mother who acted as peacemaker, calming the waters when her two strong-willed children began fighting over the details that always looked trivial the next day.

  Suddenly it was winter—the worst season to migrate to another world. But that gave them the gift of several months where they could make everything perfect, or nearly so.

  Years ago, the old fix-it man who once worked on their family car had retired, and the next owner had driven his shop out of business. The property was purchased from the bank for nothing and reconnected to the power grid, and with Kala's friends supplying labor and enough money, Sandor managed to refit the building according to their specific needs. Medical stocks were locked in the lady's room. The garage was jammed with canned and dried food and giant water tanks, plus the rest of their essential goods, including a fully charged class-C ripper that would carry away the little building.

  On a cold bleak day in late March—several weeks before their scheduled departure—a stranger came looking for gasoline. He parked beside one of the useless pumps and pulled on his horn several times. Then he climbed out of the small, nondescript car, and, ignoring the CLOSED signs painted on the shuttered windows, walked across the cracked pavement in order to knock hard on both garage doors and the front door.

  “Hey! Anybody there?” he shouted before finally giving up.

  As he returned to his car, Kala asked her brother, “What is he? Children of Forever, or some kind of undercover cop?"

  “Really,” Sandor replied, “does it matter?"

  Kala set her splattergun back in its cradle.

  “I think it's time,” their mother offered.

  It was too early in the season to be ideal. But what choice did they have? Kala lifted the phone and made one coded call to the nearest town. And within the hour, everybody had arrived. Those who weren't going with them offered quick tearful good-byes to those who were, showering those blessed pioneers with kisses and love. But then the pioneers had enough, and with quick embarrassed voices, they said, “Enough, Mommy. Daddy. That's enough. Good-bye!"

  * * * *

  Kala had come too far and paid too much of a price not to watch what was about to happen. She opened all of the shutters in the public room, letting the murky gray flow inside, and then she sat between two six-year-olds, one of whom asked, “How much longer now?"

  “Soon,” she promised. “A minute or two, at most."

  Sandor and several other mechanically minded souls were in the garage, watching the ripper power up. Sharing the public room with Kala were a handful of grown men and a dozen women, plus nearly forty children sitting on tiny folding chairs, the oldest child being a stubborn twelve-year-old boy—the only son of colleagues who were staying behind.

  Kala's mother was one of the women, and she wasn't even the oldest.

  “We're not making everybody else's mistakes,” Kala had explained to her, sitting in the old living room some months ago. “We're taking grandparents and little kids, but very few young adults. I don't want virility and stupidity. I want wisdom and youth."

  “What seeds are you taking?” her mother had asked.

  “None."

  “Did I hear you say—?"

  “No seeds, and no animals. Not even one viable tortoise shell. And before we leave, I want to make sure every mouse in the building is dead, and every fly and flea, and if there's one earthworm living under us, I'll kill it myself when it pops up in the new world."

  Nobody was leaving this world but humans.

  And even then, they were traveling as close to empty-handed as they dared. They had tools and a few books about science and mechanics. But everyone had taken an oath not to bring any Bibles or odd Testaments, and, as far as possible, everything else that smacked of preconceptions and fussy religion had to be left behind on their doomed world.

  The children came from families who believed as Kala believed.

  It was amazing, and heartening, how many people held opinions not too much unlike hers. And sometimes in her most doubting moments, she found herself wondering if maybe her home world had a real chance of surviving the next ten thousand years.

  But there were many parents who saw doom coming—ecological or political or religious catastrophes—and that's why they were so eager to give up a young son or daughter.

  They were there now, standing out near the highway, surely hearing the ripper as it began to hammer hard at reality.

  From inside the cold garage, Sandor shouted, “A target's acquired!"

  Will this madness work? Kala asked herself one last time. Could one species arrive on an alien world, with children and old people in tow, and find food enough to survive? And then could they pass through the next ten thousand years without destroying everything that that world was and could have become ... ?

  And then it was too late to ask the question.

  The clouds of one day had vanished into a suddenly blue glare of empty skies, a green-blue lawn of grassy something stretching off into infinity ... and suddenly a room full of bright young voices shouted, “Neat! Sweet! Pretty!"

  Then the boy on her right tugged at her arm, adding, “That's fun, Miss Kala. Let's do it again!"

&n
bsp; Copyright © 2006 Robert Reed

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  BIODAD

  by Kit Reed

  Kit Reed's new novel, The Baby Merchant, is just out from Tor Books. Another novel, Thinner Than Thou, which won the American Library Association Alex Award, and her collection, Dogs of Truth, are both available in trade paperback. In addition, her book, Bronze: A Tale of Terror, which garnered a starred review in Publishers Weekly, is just out from Nightshade Books, and her tale of the “Family Bed” was a best short story nominee for last year's International Horror Guild award. Kit's taste for terror is apparent in her latest story for Asimov's—a near future look at the search for...

  Suzie

  Freddy and me, we are so excited!

  In spite of all Mom's talk about how science made us twins out of a lot of love plus a test tube, it turns out we have a father!

  He's out there walking around somewhere in the world, a living breathing person instead of so much junk in a syringe or something, which is what we thought.

  Mom showed us his picture on the web.

  So it wasn't just science, like she told us in fourth grade when she explained The Facts of Life. Imagine that! There was a real live guy involved. A living, breathing 3-D person, who looks a lot like us. She never met him before she had us, they certainly didn't bump surfaces. But here we are. It was Mom and whatever was in the jar. A doctor did the rest.

  They made her sign a paper swearing never to contact the person, but her last boyfriend warned us about that. “Don't count on Nina to keep her word,” Cecil said the night he moved out. “It's like putting your money on a dead horse.” He said she has impulse control problems, which is why they broke up.

  He said she was stepping out on him in some kind of chat room, when she'd promised to be faithful to the end. But Cecil, we only got a year's worth of Cecil whereas Mom is forever, so what does he know?

  She's been holed up in the bedroom for weeks, tapping and mousing like a lunatic. She quit going to the office, which is OK because she's some kind of vice president and they let her. She e-mails on her Blackberry and decides stuff for them in her jammies. Except for meals and the wash and all, she doesn't come out. She's been in there ever since Cecil left.

  Well, that's fine with us. Me and Freddy scrape our veggies into the Dispos-al the minute she picks up her tray and goes. We stay up as late as we want, eating Ring Dings in front of the TV. Well, we did until last night.

  Now we are packing. Wow.

  We were watching Invasion of the Body Snatchers when she came out of the bedroom all excited and different. Her hair was washed. She had on a new dress. “Susie, Freddy, I have something to tell you."

  “Not now, Mom, it's almost the end!"

  “Now.” She dragged us in to look at Friendster, of all things. She had this guy bookmarked, so his picture came up right away. “Look, kids. Isn't he gorgeous?"

  Freddy said, “I suppose so. For a guy."

  “Look like anyone you know?"

  I squinted at his profile. Favorite music. Likes. Dislikes. I said, “Who is he?"

  Oh, she looked proud. Like a cat that will never run out of canaries. “Stanley Q. Tash. Recently divorced."

  “Not another internet boyfriend, Mom. Cecil was nice, but I think he used to eat soap."

  “No, sweetie.” Her face was pink and she was shaking all over. Her voice was too. “This is completely different.” She moused over the photo and it changed. “Look, Suzie, see him in profile. What do you see?"

  “A guy."

  Mom loves us, but OK, she is kind of a romantic. She keeps going back to her high school yearbook to read all the love stuff her old boyfriends wrote. She says she had her day, we're all the family she needs, but we know she's looking for the right guy. “A very special guy."

  She turned Freddy's head so it matched up with the one on the screen. “OK, Suzie. Now do you see what I mean? Fred's got the exact same profile. And you have his eyes!"

  This creeped me out. I said, “Are we supposed to be doing this?"

  Freddy's five minutes younger than me. That and me beating him up all the time have made him cautious. “That's weird."

  “Oh,” she said, “I can't wait to see what he says when he sees you!"

  “What?"

  “Children, this is your dad.” She blushed even pinker. Her voice shook to pieces. “I googled the agency and one thing led to another. Don't you get it? I've found your donor!"

  Freddy barked, “Our what?"

  “Mom, I thought he was a..."

  She stared me down. “That's just a story I had to tell. For every single mom, there is a donor."

  Donor. I said, “You mean like when we give money in church?"

  “Not really,” Mom said. “Well, sort of. It's more like. Oh. Gagh. Um. OK. The man decides he wants to give the world—well, like, a wonderful present of some cute little people that look a lot like him.” She let it come rippling out, like a kindergarten teacher. “Like Santa Claus."

  Freddy cleared his throat. Ah-hem. “Yeah, right."

  She sighed. “Unless he did it for a price. But I promise, we've talked, and it isn't like that!"

  I thought about poor Cecil. “You've talked?"

  “Every night since I found him.” A thousand light bulbs went on behind her face. “We're in love."

  Freddy and I both went, “Mo-om."

  “And we're going to visit him!"

  That's when she told us about the land yacht. Freddy scowled but I am excited. We're leaving Thursday, first thing.

  It's not like we're driving out to meet some internet weirdo. She says they've been talking since before Cecil moved out, which was quite a while ago, and they're in love. Amazing what you don't know about your mother when you think she's told you everything.

  So it isn't just a gang of sperms like Mom told us, like it was nothing. There was a guy involved. A living, breathing person who looks like us. Cool picture, right there on his Friendster page. He's tall with a hawk nose, like my twin brother Freddy, and he's got green eyes, like me. It says here we like the same music and he loves swimming and tennis, just exactly like me so I guess I take after him, which is cool. Lord knows I'm nothing like Mom, she is way too intense and she has a really, really short fuse.

  After they get married I can take him to the Father-Daughter Breakfast at our school.

  So Freddy and me are packing and Mom is down at the mall, no cheapo internet outfits for this trip.

  “Put in your best clothes, kids, you want to make a good first impression.” She went out the door beaming, “I can't wait to see what he says!"

  * * * *

  Nina

  Stanley. Really, it's too perfect. I am in love with a Stan.

  I fell in love the minute the twins were born. The nurses cleaned them off and put them in my arms. They nested and snuggled in. A girl. A boy. So handsome and so pretty. So perfect. His gift. And I know he loves me. How could he not love me, when he gave me this?

  How could you not want to find a man like that, how could you not want to be with him forever and give him all the babies he wants?

  At the beginning, of course, I had to tell them some story. Keep it impersonal. You came from a test tube. That's all you need to know.

  How could I not look at those babies and know there was a man out there who loved me, but his twins were teething and I had to wait.

  It took forever to get his name out of the agency and the first eight times I couldn't, and I tried everything. OK, it's in my contract that you don't. I back burnered the project until I realized if I waited much longer the twins would be old enough to vote. Freddy swaggers like the big boys and Suzie has beginning hooters, and they're only in fourth grade!

  I hired a guy. He hacked into the agency database, looking for the owner of the, well, genetic material. It wasn't hard getting in. It was only a little hard, figuring out which one. Then we found him and I had to wait.

&nb
sp; The man I love turned out to be married. How could I walk in on a happy couple with his twins? Childless, I noted. Poor, sweet man.

  Well, I have wonderful news for you.

  Naturally I kept my distance, but I followed his footprints all over the web. The new company in Encino. The vice presidency, the house in the Palisades, and then ... my breakthrough.

  We met in a support group for the newly divorced. OK, I joined under false pretenses. I made up some story and he liked my posts. After that, Friendster was a piece of cake. And the best part? I posted my prettiest photo and a whole bunch of his interests that somehow turned out to be my interests too, and it was a hop, skip, and a jump to me mailing him. He seemed surprised. Then he was pleased. I mailed him pictures, of course. We e-mailed until we found an online place where we could talk privately. In love, it's wisest to proceed with caution but when you meet the perfect person, it turns out you have a lot to say. Oh, those wonderful long nights typing to each other in the dark. I'm sorry, Cecil. You were a sweet boy but nobody comes between me and my fate.

  He phoned. It's easier to unburden in the dark. His wife left him for an unwed father, something about wanting kids, she said on the way out the door, so, fine! I can't wait to see his face when his very own children come knocking at the door.

  * * * *

  My friend Nelda thinks this is a really bad idea. We are drinking Coolatas in the food court at the mall. “You have no idea who this guy is."

  I tell her this is the father of my children. The man I've been waiting for all my life.

  “How do you know, when you don't know anything about him?"

  “Don't worry,” I say, “We've told each other everything."

  She gives me a look.

  “Well, almost everything. Oh, Nelda, I'm in love."

  “That doesn't mean he wants to see you."

  “Of course he does. I'll call and let you know how it works out."

  “You quit your job and you don't know how it's going to work out?"