She wanted to prolong this moment but reminded herself that they might still be close to danger. She forced herself to sit up. The coverall under her suit was damp, and she had not checked her pack. She shrugged out of the pack and unzipped it; the sealed provisions seemed unaffected by the water.
“I lost my helmet,” she said.
“That doesn’t matter.” He sat up. “Are you all right now?”
“I think so.” She rubbed at her arm. “My shoulders are a little sore.” Relief washed over her again; she was alive.
Sven was gazing at her solemnly. “I’m wondering if we should go back,” he said.
“Go back?”
“When I thought I’d lost you—” He lowered his eyes. “I didn’t care about this trip then. I kept thinking I was a fool ever to risk it. If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t care if I found anyone else. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She was silent.
“We could go back now. You probably need some time to recover. We’ll be better prepared when we try again later.”
She had a reason to give up and could easily justify the decision. She could tell herself she had done her best. Sven did not expect her to go on now; she would not have to worry about what he thought.
She said, “If I go back now, I wouldn’t want to leave again, ever. I’d keep remembering this, how I might have died. I wouldn’t want to try again.”
“I don’t want you in danger.”
“Even if it means I’m always frightened of the outside and afraid to face it again?”
He did not reply.
Nita got to her feet. “I’m going to look around and see where we are.” She glanced toward the forest; there were fewer oaks and pines, while willows and scrub had taken root nearer to the water. She walked toward a grassy spot along the bank and looked out at the land.
Far below the falls, the river wound its way through the wood. She saw that they could not climb down the steep cliff bordering the waterfall but would have to move west to where the land sloped more gently before they came to the river again. She narrowed her eyes as she peered south. The land seemed flatter there, the trees more widely spaced.
“Sven.” She turned around. “Sven,” she shouted above the roar of the falls, “I think I can see where the plain begins.”
He stood up and came to her side, then cupped one hand over his eyes. “I see it,” he said. “Just beyond those trees, on the horizon. We could reach it in a day or two, I think.”
“We can’t turn back now, can we?”
“No.” He sighed. “No, we can’t.”
Near the place where they met the river again, Nita found a berry bush; its fruit resembled some she had seen on the screen. She plucked one berry, holding it in her hand as she sniffed at it.
Sven looked toward her. “What have you got?”
“It looks like a wild raspberry. It should be safe enough. Should we chance it?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “We still have enough food. We haven’t touched what the gardener’s carrying.”
“I’m willing to try it,” she said. “The records said fruit like this could be eaten, and we could save some of our food if it’s true. I’ll try one. If it doesn’t make me sick, we can eat some more later.”
“I don’t suppose one berry can make you too sick.”
She put the berry against her lips, took a small bite, then spat out the fruit, taking care not to swallow. “It tastes good,” she said. She plucked another piece of fruit, took a breath, then put it on her tongue. The berry was sweet and a bit tart, but she had to force herself to swallow.
They filled Sven’s helmet with more fruit before continuing along the bank. It was a small step, finding one food they might be able to eat, but they could build on that bit of knowledge.
She thought of future skills they might master. They could learn how to hunt with their wands, and fashion other weapons for hunting. They could fish and learn how to clean their own food. They might even experiment with raising some crops on the grounds of the Institute when they found out more about what sorts of edible plants might grow there. They would not be so dependent on the mind and what it could provide.
Had the people they sought learned how to live out here, or did they depend on a mind in the city? She supposed that they had to venture outside sometimes. They had come to the Institute in a craft rather than on foot, but they had not known what they might find there. They would have wanted a way to escape quickly if necessary.
She was daydreaming again, imagining those who might become new friends, who might show her that the good in her people had won out at last. They might instead see her as something alien—her thoughts shaped in part by Llipel, her knowledge imparted to her only by a cybernetic mind. She had come to know Sven, but he was much like her, molded by the same circumstances. It might be more difficult to know others.
Nita ate another berry before they stopped to rest; by the time their fire was started, she was sure the fruit was safe to eat. The ground bordering the river was now flat; the trees were more widely spaced as well, making it less likely that they would be surprised by any animals.
She nibbled at the raspberries while Sven opened a package of food. “Aren’t you going to try these?” she asked.
He shook his head. “If you get sick, I’d better stay well enough to look after you.”
“I’ve had two already. I wouldn’t be eating them if I thought I’d get sick. We ought to save as much of our food as we can.”
“If the city’s no more than four or five days away, we have enough to get there and back.” He finished his food and stood up. “There’s still some light.” He began to move toward a gnarled oak. “I’m going to climb up and find out if we’re near the plain.”
“You might fall,” she objected. “What if you’re hurt?”
“I’ll be careful. I used to climb the trees in the courtyard all the time. Llare always wondered why. I told him he had the claws for climbing, but he wouldn’t try.” Sven looked more pensive at the mention of his guardian.
Nita followed Sven to the tree and watched as he climbed until he disappeared above the leafy boughs. “What can you see?” she shouted.
“The plain,” he called back. “We’ll reach it tomorrow.” He climbed down, hung from a low branch, then dropped to the ground.
“You didn’t see the city?”
“No.”
They settled by the fire. “I’ve been trying to think of what to tell our people if they’re there,” she said.
“I suppose ‘Greetings’ would be a good start.”
“I meant after that.”
“Well, we’ll have to say we come from the Institute. We’ve got to tell them the truth and see what they make of it—what else can we do?” He poked at the fire with a stick. “I’ve been thinking. There might be some boys with them, ones close to our age.”
“Girls, too,” she said. “We’d have some friends.”
“That isn’t what I mean.” He kept his head down. “You might like one of those boys better. You might want one of them for a friend instead of me.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” She paused. “I thought you might feel the same way about one of the females. Maybe you will.” She felt the pangs of jealousy. Was he saying that he wanted her to find a new friend so that he would be free to look for one, too?
“You’re wrong, Nita.” He took her hand. “I couldn’t feel the same way about someone else—I’m sure of that. At first, it was just because I thought I’d never meet anyone else, but it’s more than that now—I knew that when I thought I’d lost you.”
“Then you feel the same thing I do.” She squeezed his hand. This had to be part of what her people called love—it wasn’t just those odd things they did with their bodies but also the feeling that another mattered as much as oneself. If their people were capable of such feelings, then there must be some good in them.
He released her. “You’d better ge
t some sleep.”
16
Nita and Sven stood on a hill. A plain stretched before them, broad and flat; only a few trees dotted the land. In the distance, the ground seemed to meet the wide sky.
Nita shivered and moved closer to Sven. They walked out from under the tree shading them and descended the hill.
In the forest, Nita had sometimes felt that the trees were about to close in around her, that anything might leap at her from the shadows; she had longed for a more open space. This flat, grassy land and open sky made her feel small and unprotected. They would be able to see danger at a distance on this plain, yet she felt exposed to unseen threats.
The river’s muddy bank was covered by grass that reached nearly to her waist; the wide waterway meandered and appeared endless as it flowed toward the horizon. Mud sucked at her boots as she walked; the banks were becoming more marshy. They began to move away from the river toward drier grassland.
To the south, a small herd had gathered near the river. Sven cupped a hand over his eyes. “Wild cattle, I think,” he said. “We’d better not get too close to them.”
Nita looked back. On the high forested ground they had left behind, she saw no sign of the Institute; even the tower was hidden.
Another herd was moving over the plain to her right; the beasts were galloping west, away from them. She squinted, then realized that those animals were horses. The library held many images of such creatures, one of the species most loved by her people. She had seen pictures of men and women riding them and caring for them; she wondered what it would be like to ride a horse across the plain. These horses seemed wild, but perhaps the people she hoped to find had tamed a few.
Her people had loved horses, but the records had also said that people once rode them into battle. She pushed that thought away.
When they were still at a distance from the cattle, Sven motioned to her; she signaled to the robot to stop. Ahead of them, much of the grass had been trampled, and they had a clear view of the herd. The cattle were drinking; one lifted its head.
In an instant, the herd began to run toward the southwest. A furred creature was chasing them; one of the smaller cattle fell.
She and the boy crept forward slowly, careful to stay away from the spot where the animal had fallen. A large cat was crouched over the carcass; Nita thought she saw blood. The cat looked up and snarled, then lowered its head to feed.
Nita drew out her wand slowly. Before Sven could stop her, she aimed and fired five times, until the cat was still.
Sven clutched her shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that. We’re far enough away—it seemed more interested in its food than in us. If you’d missed—”
“I didn’t miss, did I?” She picked up her pace, anxious to be away from that place; Sven strode at her side as the gardener trailed them.
She could not explain her action to him. She had not aimed at the cat to protect them; she had felt a sudden revulsion at the sight of a predator and its dead prey. The cat was an enemy, living by inflicting death on others. It was her enemy as well.
She slipped her wand into its sheath. Her people had preyed on everything, even their own kind. Perhaps she had seen a little of herself in the cat.
She turned her head. Black birds were flying toward the downed calf from the north; she watched as they circled above the body and the cat. The forest’s shadows had cloaked death; here, it was all too visible.
The moon was nearly full. A cool wind blew over the plain; the grass swayed as the wind rose to a howl and then died to a whisper. Once, roadways had crossed this plain, according to the records. Not a trace of any road was left.
Another howl rose on the wind, the sound of an animal. She had heard such howls before, out here and in the woods, but this one seemed closer. Ahead of them, a little to the west, a few slender trees stood on a low hill, the first hill she had seen on this land.
“We should stop there,” she said as she gestured at the trees. Sven had not wanted to stop before; he seemed impatient to get to the city as soon as possible. “We’d have some shelter from the wind under those trees.”
He nodded. As they moved toward the hill, she looked to her side, certain that she had seen something moving in the grass.
“I think we’re being followed,” she whispered. They strode to the hill more rapidly, the robot trailing them. This slope was not much higher than the surrounding land, but she could now see that a small band of furry animals was moving toward them. One lifted its head and howled.
“Wolves,” she murmured, recalling images she had seen. The wolf pack watched the gardener as it floated up the hill; the animals seemed curious and unafraid.
She aimed at the pack and fired; one wolf yelped as the beam struck the ground near him. The wolves fled; she and Sven continued to fire after them until she was convinced they were gone.
“They might not come back,” Sven said as he settled down under a tree, “but we’ll have to be careful on watch.”
“A fire might keep them away.”
“I don’t see much wood here. I don’t know if we should build a fire, anyway. The wind could blow sparks onto the grass.”
She shivered, hoping they would be safe, then sat down by another tree that would shield her from the wind. Sven tore open a package and handed her half a sandwich.
“I didn’t think it would be so empty,” he said. “I thought we might see a roadway, or part of an old craft or a building, or even a small tool somewhere, but there’s nothing. It’s as if our people never existed, as if the mind just dreamed them up.”
The moonlight silvered the dark river water. The river had widened considerably; Nita could hardly see the eastern shore. To the south, it was wider still. Below her, an animal’s skull sat in the mud along the bank. She thought then of all the bones that were resting under the earth.
Sven was shaking her shoulder gently. Nita opened her eyes and blinked at the light. “You’d better wake up,” he said. “I want to get some more water before we go, and it might be marshier along the bank up ahead. I’ll take the gardener with me—one of its bottles needs to be refilled.”
She sat up. “Mine’s still almost full.”
“I’ll just take mine, then.” He removed his bottle from his pack and led the robot down the hill.
The river was several paces away; Sven walked to the south, toward a spot where the reeds along the shore were not as thick. Nita got to her feet and studied the river. The waterway was growing wider the farther south they traveled, and the map had not shown such an increase in size.
She gazed after Sven until he was a small, distant shape kneeling by the bank. The sun was just above the horizon; the sky was clear, promising a pleasant day. She turned to the west and saw a herd of large, shaggy beasts grazing in the grass; she was far enough away not to have to worry about them.
She knelt and opened her pack. Her food might last her another three days at most; perhaps she should conserve it. After that, they would have to eat what the robot was carrying, and they would need almost all of that food to get back to the Institute. She closed her pack and stared at the southern horizon, hoping for some sign of the city to appear.
Thunder sounded in the distance; the herd was on the move. Nita narrowed her eyes and tried to recall what animals of that kind were called; they were much larger and shaggier than the cattle. Bison, she thought; Earth’s people had once hunted them. The herd changed direction; they were running much faster now, as if something was pursuing them. They swerved again; she suddenly realized that they were heading toward the river.
“Sven!” she shouted. He stood up; she saw him glance to the west. He began to run toward her, still holding his bottle.
She looked around wildly, then aimed her wand at the bison, hoping she could frighten them off. The weapon did not fire; she had used up her charge. The herd was coming closer. They could never outrun the bison; they would have to take to the trees.
The gardener sat by the river. Sven
must have ordered it to stay there before. Nita clenched her teeth, suddenly angry with the mind for its dogged obedience. Sven stopped for a moment and called out to the robot; it rose and floated after him.
The thunder of approaching hooves was much louder now. She remembered the packs, picked them up, and managed to wedge them between the tree trunk and a branch above her. Sven was closer to the hill; she was about to climb up when she saw him fall.
“Sven!” she cried out. He staggered to his feet; his right leg gave way. He dropped the bottle and fell again.
She raced down the hill. He was standing when she reached him; he hobbled toward her, as if injured. She threw one arm around him. “Lean on me.”
“I—”
“Come on!” She dragged him with her, propelling him toward the tree as fast as she could. He was moaning as they climbed the hill. She let go of him as he pulled himself up into the tree; she grabbed his hand and climbed up after him as the bison came toward the slope.
The herd thundered to the hill. The ground shook; clouds of dirt billowed around the beasts. Their hooves beat against the ground as they ran on toward the river. The robot was in their way; Nita watched helplessly as it was trampled underfoot. The bison continued to run along the bank until they were a small dark cloud in the south.
She was shaking. Sven seemed stunned; his blue eyes were empty. The robot was lying on the ground below the hill, its body dented, its packs torn and crushed.
Nita climbed out of the tree. Sven threw their packs down, then hung from the limb and dropped the short distance to the ground. He let out a cry as he landed, and sat down abruptly. “My leg,” he muttered. “I twisted it before—that’s why I fell. I—”
She knelt next to him. “Where?”
“My ankle.”
“Is it broken?”
“I don’t think so.” He touched his right boot. “But I can’t tell. It might be only a sprain. I felt the muscles pull and snap. All I know is that it hurts.”
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