Marooned on Eden

by Robert L. Forward

  "But, Reiki, that's not big enough to hold more than . . .two"—she gave a sidelong glance at John—"and, just flat like that, you'll be right out in the open, sort of vulnerable . . .exposed . . ." I could have smacked her!

  "It's just perfect, Shirley!" I said sweetly. "I only need it for a diving platform, mostly, and I know you're anxious to get to work on building that outrigger from the boobaa treetrunks!"

  From her expression, I saw she had completely forgotten that earlier idea. For Shirley, the passionate engineer, to have become so dreamy as to abandon a new project was such a shock to me that I instantly forgave her—she really is helpless, just now. I left, quietly, tugging my new little raft into the shallows, while behind me John began talking in deep tones about cutting down the largest tree single-handed with an obsidian axe.

  Since then I've spent happy hours tinkering with the small craft. The slender poles bound together with strong vines make it both light and limber, and it was not too difficult to shape the front and the back into an upcurving sheaf. The low box along one edge serves as both seat and storage. I succeeded in stepping a short mast, and affixed an even shorter boom, but the skimpy sail is not very satisfactory, and without a keel my control over my direction is sporadic at best. Still, it is endlessly fascinating to play with, and has served, at any rate, to give myself the appearance of industrious activity, while absenting myself a little from the group idiocy.

  But I must begin, now, to try to sail home for the night—it's growing late, and I fled early today. I've come a fair distance—my view of the volcano shows that—but the wind has shifted and will speed me homeward. Perhaps there'll be some change—my own menstrual period is already seriously delayed, no doubt due to the recent operation—but if one of the others' is beginning, there may be a resultant improvement in behavior. I dearly hope so!

  I heard the laughter before I landed and moored the raft. It was so relaxed and delightful-sounding I hurried, hopefully, to the group about the fire.

  "Here's Reiki! Home is the sailor, home from the sea—or lake, whatever. We've a discovery for you, Reiki, come have a drink!"

  I stopped, startled. I'd been heading for the shelter to tidy myself for the evening, but this new statement called for investigation.

  "A drink?" David was extending a cup to me, and I saw everyone was holding something—the liquid within was clear and pale, and I took a cautious sip. It was pretty bad—rather worse than the homemade parsnip wine I had once had from a villager in France—but it was most definitely wine.

  "Where on earth—or Eden—did you get this?" I asked, incredulously.

  "We made it! Ourselves!" David laughed. "Nels, and John, and I—and Jinjur helped. But you deserve some credit too, Reiki!"

  "That's right!" Richard boomed. "You know those bitter little grapes we found, growing next to the sour fruits? Well, they both seemed pretty hopeless, so we decided to try the Reiki Technique!"

  I heard the capital letters, but was too puzzled to interrupt.

  "Yes, Reiki," said Jinjur, chortling. "We added some water to the little grapes, and went off and left 'em for a week. Then we took the sour things and boiled them until they were unrecognizable!"

  I was a trifle miffed at that, but couldn't think of much of a reply. Fortunately, Cinnamon took pity on me and explained.

  "The grapes fermented, Reiki, and these clever people just let the process go along naturally. The sour things cooked down into a sort of syrup, oddly enough—it's really too bland and cloying to be good on its own, but it's going to be very useful as sweetening—and it certainly helped the wine!"

  I took another, more generous sip. The stuff tasted better, now, and its warmth was very pleasant going down.

  "I like it, too," said Richard cheerfully, and I glanced at him with a twinge of alarm. He caught my glance—obviously the intensified awareness is still around—and spoke calmly. "The supply of grapes is so limited, we'll none of us be liable to have any problems with the wine—there just won't be much of it! But it's nice to have now, isn't it?"

  I agreed, and went off to complete my dressing for dinner, if one may refer to such primitive procedures by so grand a title. When I returned to the circle I found the mellow mood to have increased. The others were waiting for me before beginning the meal, and I was oddly touched by that. We sipped the wine companionably, and the easy talk became relaxed and carefree.

  "I don't want to embarrass anyone," said Jinjur quietly, "but unless somebody's managed to be a lot more discreet than I ever suspected, there's something screwy about our female cycles."

  There was silence, and quick little questioning glances flashed around the circle.

  "Now . . .no doubt there could be many reasons for that," continued Jinjur. "But in my case, the only one I can think of is that Josephine's surgery somehow interfered with the pattern I'm accustomed to."

  I spoke up, trying to make my own words as clear and still impersonal as Jinjur's, to say that I, too, had not yet begun any menstrual flow. To my surprise, the others joined in! With the exception of Carmen, the other women were puzzled, but completely sure they had not conceived—they had been enjoying the processes of flirting and courting so much, they had deliberately postponed the inevitable conclusions, while of course having every intention of selecting a mate in the next month or so. The five of us stared at John in consternation.

  "I don't understand that, at all," he said hastily. "I'd better ask Josephine some serious questions. David, can you set up the sonar scanner so I can talk to Josephine? We'll do it at next light."

  The meal resumed, and we passed a normal night, but I was grateful for the relaxation of the wine—I might have otherwise found sleep difficult.

  In the morning I joined David and the others at the sonar mapper. It was now safely ensconced in a rock crevasse situated well above high tide, with its long umbilical cord leading down the shore into the depths of Crater Lagoon and to Josephine in the Dragonfly.

  "Josephine. Current activity status report, please." I addressed my old ally confidently.

  "Current activity: Proceeding with emergency repairs. Number of repairs completed, thirty-two. Estimated number of repairs still to do, eighteen." Josephine's voice was warm and reassuring; I had designed her to be so in these circumstances, with all the emergency repair work still to be done.

  "Request access to file of medical procedures, most recent, Josephine," David stated. There was a brief pause.

  "Access granted, but John should be available for interpretation, if necessary."

  "I'm right here, Josephine," said John. "What is the report on the sperm, ova, and tissue samples you kept for analysis?"

  "Positive." Again, that brief and noncommittal answer!

  "Josephine, we'd like a much more detailed summary of your findings, please," I directed. "John shall explain any terms we cannot understand, but we need to know the results of your examination and procedure. Are all of us returned to normal sexual functions? Are all of us in good health, and are the women capable of child-bearing? When can we expect ovulation?" I knew that my voice was harsher than I had used in some time to Josephine. In her programmed care for us she sometimes kept what she considered to be unnecessary or unpleasant details to herself. However, the words came readily enough at my command:

  "All health checks are normal. All functions are normal. Ovulation for women will resume at conclusion of current pregnancy."

  "WHAT?" Out voices screamed the word.

  "Repeat that report, Josephine," David sternly commanded. "And clarify statement regarding 'current' pregnancy!"

  To my horror, I heard the mechanical voice continue, repeating the report, and then came these dreadful words:

  "While conducting requested operations designed to return the crew to complete human sexual function preliminary to breeding, I analyzed all combinations available from the limited gene pool. Best selections for each female were matched with best available male. Ova were selected and fertilized
using the available sperm saved from the prior sperm-count analysis samples gathered from the males, then implanted along with hormones to initiate pregnancy cycle."

  I stared helplessly at the sonar mapper, at David, at John . . .John!

  "What did you do to me?" I shrieked at him. His face was white, and his eyes blank with astonishment.

  "Josephine!" he shouted. "Why did you initiate pregnancy? That was not part of your instructions from me!"

  Almost, I could hear the unemotional intelligence shrug: "The obvious objective to the directed procedure was to reproduce. So the best and most efficient reproduction objective was calculated and implemented. Consideration was given to possible implantation of two each foeti in each female using sperm from different males, but decision was made to simplify pregnancy and birth by limiting infants to one each female. All findings indicate pregnancies will be normal in duration, and deliveries will be uncomplicated. Expected date of births will be two hundred fifteen Zuni days from now."

  In terror, I stared at Jinjur, and Shirley, and Cinnamon, and Arielle—eyes wide and faces pale—all of us were pregnant? By computer?

  I got to my feet, somehow, and fled. By the time I reached the shore and fumbled loose the mooring rope, my tears were pouring, and blindly I released the small craft and flung myself upon it in despair.

  While it drifted aimlessly, I wept, the tears going through the deck unnoticed into the sea. I felt I had been betrayed, even raped, by an intelligent monster at least partly my own creation! With hideous efficiency, the expert skill of the unfeeling computer had succeeded in an accomplishment which might well have been beyond our human ability. To have successfully impregnated all five of us was a task I should have doubted could be done, even had such an awful eventuality entered my mind. My feelings were chaotic, hysterical, wildly frantic as I realized the enormity of what had happened to me! I stormed aloud, then raged in silence, back and forth in desperate fury. I've no idea how long I howled my woe, but inevitably, eventually, I subsided in exhaustion and lay limp and miserable.

  I had not drifted far, I saw through swollen eyes. The light had nearly faded, and the sea around me was flat and calm. I sat up, trying to catch my breath, and to return to some sort of normal state of mind. However, I couldn't think at all, and simply stared at the little waves behind me. I felt betrayed, frightened, and, now that my anger was worn out, desperately lonely. Then I heard the sound of rhythmic splashing; it came steadily nearer, but I didn't move as Richard's face, dripping, confronted my own. His eyes were worried, and gently he put both big hands around my head.

  "Reiki? Let me help." The sound of human compassion brought fresh tears, but the weeping was less painful now. I lay, held tightly against another living heart; and when this shower passed I felt able to return to the darkening shore.

  I discovered that my friends had undergone, in varying intensities, all the same passions I had experienced, and were trying to assimilate all the implications of Josephine's thoughtless interference. However, they had gone beyond me in their decision-making, and were beginning to accept what had happened as fact.

  "Josephine absorbed a lot of outraged yelling, after you left," Jinjur told me. "Apparently she's programmed to react, because she wouldn't speak a word for hours. Her persona was replaced by a mechanical voice."

  "Yes, that was part of the program," I admitted. "If there's a real overload of anger from us, it means she needs to recalculate her entire position before she interacts again, so she was going through that."

  "I wish that electronic moron had a head so I could knock some sense into her," muttered Shirley. I gripped her hand tightly, unable to speak. It felt good to realize I really was not alone in this predicament! As we went through a semblance of our normal routines, we talked, slowly beginning to comprehend what lay ahead of us.

  We plied John with questions; we are all so ignorant, and feel so helpless!

  "What will it be like?"

  "How will I know when the baby is ready to be born?"

  "Should I be doing anything different?"

  John looked like he was trying very hard to be soothing, and knew he was not succeeding very well: "You just go on, living as usual, and when the babies come . . ." Here he looked definitely frightened. " . . .they come." Far from reassuring!

  "There is one good thing, though," continued John. "You won't have to worry about infections in either you or your baby—unlike on Earth, where going to the hospital exposes you to drug-resistant germs. I took a sample of soil down with me and had Josephine analyze it. As I suspected, although there are the Zuni equivalent of bacteria and viruses in the soil, the bacteria have no defenses against our white blood cells, and the viruses are unable to use our cells internal machinery to replicate themselves—they use a different genetic code."

  "I think I should tell you," said Carmen, later, "that I'm quite sure I'm pregnant too. I'm not so sure of my own due date, but I also think I should tell you that I'm pleased about it."

  That produced a heavy silence, and I reluctantly faced reality, squarely. The men had said nothing at all, but now David cleared his throat, and spoke huskily.

  "When Josephine is ready to talk with us again, she may reveal who is the father of each—baby," he said tentatively.

  I looked around at the serious faces, and sighed.

  "Well, I suppose that will matter to me, sometime. But all I can bring myself to do now is accept the fact that a baby is begun, and I'll do my best to do the thing right."

  There was a soft murmur of agreement. Any alternative is more unthinkable than these present unthinkable circumstances! Each of us was busy with our own thoughts after that, although David found comfort, as always, in music. The soft melody of the little flute seemed unbearably sweet tonight, and if I had had any tears left I would have wept. But the gentle sound went on, and my sore heart eased as I listened to the beautiful song.

  I was startled, yet again, at Richard's low voice in my ear. "Would you care for a stroll, ma'am?"

  I stoo, to look at the man. Oddly enough, it was then, as I realized that there was no need for me either to avoid Richard or to seek him out, no pressure to conform or to rebel, that all my barriers came down. With no hesitation, I smiled up at the dark face above me, and said, "Thank you very much, I should enjoy that."

  I think the polite response startled him, after the weeks of cool rebuffs, but he reached for my arm with a gentle force that made me melt against him as we walked away into the quiet darkness. It was not far along the trail before the whole of me was engulfed in that embrace, which made it extremely difficult to walk, but which I confess I enjoyed greatly.

  BIRTHING

  As I begin this entry, I can feel my unborn child moving within me. It's pleasant to rest here, recalling that stormy time, secure in the private and comfortable little nest that I sometimes share with Richard now. Shortly I must make my way down to Council Rock—our evening meals are much eased as we continue to share the work, particularly now that we are all so cumbersome! As Shirley said, "Now that I get tired quickly, and can't use tools on my lap because I haven't got any lap, I can see just how easy it was, to work with James and the Christmas Bush."

  Jinjur agreed. "I used to get a tad annoyed when one of my sergeants went off on maternity leave—throwing away your career, I felt! But I'm going to be just as capable, and so are you, Shirley, when this is over. I'm glad, now, in a way, that we're all vulnerable at once—sort of points out, doesn't it, that it can happen to anybody!"

  Having reconciled ourselves, finally, to the prospect of becoming parents, we have been very busy with plans and preparations. It won't be long, now, before the births are due, and we intend to be ready. John's expression, as he watches six heavily pregnant women, clad in billowing sarongs, strolling past him on the beach, is so funny it gives us all a rather wicked pleasure, although of course it's followed by private worries. We are all thankful, yet again, for the careful screening we had undergone at the sta
rt of this mission; our collective health is extremely good, and our genetic histories are sound. For years we were monitored by James, and even now we were living a healthy balance of exercise and diet. This, of course, did not excuse in any way Josephine's imprudent actions, and each of us pointed that out to her in various vigorous ways. Jinjur's "Boy, you really screwed us up, you dumb piece of junk!" was perhaps the mildest.

  Interestingly, we have slowed down the pace of our existence; not to the Jolly's level, of course, but significantly more leisurely than when we first began our settlement. I admit the easier life is very pleasant! The brisk walk has become a relaxed amble; swimming in the warm water is a restful interlude, with the water relieveing us of the weight we carry; and I can see that, becoming absorbed in what is taking place within our bodies, we are less concerned about the intensity with which we are studying this planet. The prospect of giving birth we contemplate with what may be too much optimism, and a rather easy confidence.