by Nancy Kress
“I wonder what ‘normal’ really means,” Marianne said.
Harrison didn’t have to ask why his affectionate statement had led to musing about statistics. They followed each other’s unspoken thoughts. No one else had “got” her in that way since Evan, nearly a decade ago. It felt nice. The sex was nice, too, and if it was no more than that—well, nobody got everything.
Harrison said, “Whatever definition of normal you use, we’re not it.”
She laughed. “See you on Friday?”
“Yes.” He kissed her and stood. Weekdays he spent at Columbia, weekends here. She wondered how long it would be before they decided to get a place together, probably in New York. Or maybe here. Harrison was well over sixty—surely he would retire some day?
No, probably not. No more than she would, until they had to.
Jason burst out of the field, spiky corn leaves and silky tassel fibers festooning him like ornaments on a Christmas tree. Colin, Luke, Sara, and Sam trailed behind him. “Grandma! We found a ditch with a lot of frogs!”
“Wow!” Marianne said. “How big are they?”
“One is big!” Colin said, panting up behind his older brother. “I heard them first!”
Of course he did. Neither Colin nor Luke took Audexica. Stubbins’s drug had induced methylation to turn off the genes responsible for hyper-hearing—the same genes that R. sporii had turned on. But the drug had had unpleasant side effects. Audexica, however, didn’t block hyper-hearing. Instead it strengthened neural pathways that let children filter and, eventually, classify ultrasonic and infrasonic noises the way children like Colin and Luke had learned to do by themselves. As kids matured, more of them could do without the drug but keep the hyper-hearing.
Luke, his broad round face glistening with sweat, said, “Two kinds of frogs. Little ones in trees and big ones in water.”
Jason said, “I caught a little one and held it!”
“Be careful,” Marianne said. “Those tree frogs are really fragile. You don’t want to hurt it.”
“’Course not!” Sam said indignantly, at the same moment that Sara said, “They’re cute!”
Marianne smiled at the twins, who lived on the other side of the cornfield. They were just a few months younger than Colin. None of that generation hurt animals. Eight now, Colin was a self-elected vegetarian. He’d insisted that his father hire a “plant doctor” for a tree infected with oak wilt. He watered parched wildflowers. He put out salt licks for deer. There had always been kids like that, but now there was a whole generation of them, everywhere, and eventually they would grow to adulthood, still sensitive to Earth’s biomass.
They were, Marianne, allowed herself to think, the best hope for the planet.
A car turned off the road and pulled into the driveway. The twins’ father leaned out the window and called, “Hi, Marianne. Kids, time to go home.”
“Not yet!” Sara cried.
“Yes, yet. Come on, get in.”
Sara and Sam went to the car, feet dragging. Marianne said, “Go on inside, you two, and wash your hands. With soap.”
“Race you!” Jason said.
“No fair! You got a head start!”
Marianne ate the rest of her peach. Ryan came out onto the porch. “Mom? What are you doing out here? The mosquitoes are starting.”
“I know. I’m coming in. I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
She turned her head to look up at him, backlit by light from the house. Too thin, still, but here.
“About Jonah Stubbins. His trial starts next week. But … he did this, you know. Along with everything else, he contributed a lot to this great thing for the world’s children.”
Ryan didn’t answer.
“Did you catch the news earlier? About that girl in Indonesia who heard the tsunami coming just the way the animals did? She warned her whole village to get to high ground and saved I don’t know how many lives.”
“I heard,” Ryan said tonelessly.
“And that kid in Russia who rescued a nest of mice from a cat because he heard their ultrasonic cries? Mus is returning to Ukraine and Kazakhstan, too.”
“I heard.”
She had to stop. Ryan was still fragile; too much information connected in any way with the spore cloud brought an edge to his voice. She changed the subject.
“When does Elizabeth’s plane land tomorrow?”
“Noon. I’ll go get her.”
“No, let me go. You stay with the boys.” It would be better if Elizabeth got to rant to Marianne before they reached the house. Because there would be a rant about something; there always was.
For the first time, she realized that Elizabeth was fragile, too. Her anger was how she protected herself, just as Ryan’s deep depression had been how he punished himself. Maybe Noah, her drifter, had been the strongest one, after all.
She gazed upward at the “summer triangle” of stars emerging in the navy-blue sky. Altair, Vega, Deneb. Would she ever see Noah again? Maybe. Neither the Venture, now government property, nor the Mest’/Stremlenie had yet taken off for World. The United States and Russia were “in negotiation,” a polite word for a standoff. Meanwhile, other nations’ ships were finally nearing completion. Then what?
Nobody knew.
“Mom, the mosquitoes.”
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”
She rose from the porch, dusted off the seat of her jeans, and went into the lighted house.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nancy Kress is the bestselling author of twenty science fiction and fantasy novels, including Beggars in Spain, Probability Space, and Steal Across the Sky. Kress is a recipient of the Nebula, Hugo, Sturgeon, and Campbell Awards. Her fiction has been translated into multiple languages, including Klingon.
Visit her online at nancykress.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part Two
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Part Three
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
TOMORROW’S KIN
Copyright © 2017 by Nancy Kress
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Stephan Martiniere
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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Tor® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-9029-5 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-7653-9031-8 (ebook)
eISBN 9780765390318
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First Edition: July 2017