James Patrick Kelly - Think Like a Dinosaur, e-books, e-książki, ksiązki, , .-y
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Think Like A Dinosaurby James Patrick KellyKamala Shastri came back to this world as she had left it -- naked. Shetottered out of the assembler, trying to balance in Tuulen Station'sdelicate gravity. I caught her and bundled her into a robe with onemotion, then eased her onto the float. Three years on another planet hadtransformed Kamala. She was leaner, more muscular. Her fingernails werenow a couple of centimeters long and there were four parallel scars incisedon her left cheek, perhaps some Gendian's idea of beautification. Butwhat struck me most was the darting strangeness in her eyes. This place,so familiar to me, seemed almost to shock her. It was as if she doubtedthe walls and was skeptical of air. She had learned to think like analien."Welcome back." The float's whisper rose to a whoosh as I walked it downthe hallway.She swallowed hard and I thought she might cry. Three years ago, shewould have. Lots of migrators are devastated when they come out of theassembler; it's because there is no transition. A few seconds ago Kamalawas on Gend, fourth planet of the star we call epsilon Leo, and now she washere in lunar orbit. She was almost home; her life's great adventure wasover."Matthew?" she said."Michael." I couldn't help but be pleased that that she remembered me.After all, she had changed my life.#I've guided maybe three hundred migrations -- comings and goings -- sinceI first came to Tuulen to study the dinos. Kamala Shastri's is the onlyquantum scan I've ever pirated. I doubt that the dinos care; I suspectthis is a trespass they occasionally allow themselves. I know more abouther -- at least, as she was three years ago -- than I know about myself.When the dinos sent her to Gend, she massed 50,391.72 grams and her redcell count was 4.81 million per mm3. She could play the nagasvaram, a kindof bamboo flute. Her father came from Thana, near Bombay, and her favoriteflavor of chewyfrute was watermelon and she'd had five lovers and when shewas eleven she had wanted to be a gymnast but instead she had become abiomaterials engineer who at age twenty-nine had volunteered to go to thestars to learn how to grow artificial eyes. It took her two years to gothrough migrator training; she knew could have backed out at any time,right up until the moment Silloin translated her into a superluminalsignal. It was explained to her many times what it meant to balance theequation.I first met her on June 22, 2069. She shuttled over from Lunex's L1 portand came through our airlock at promptly 10:15, a small, roundish womanwith black hair parted in the middle and drawn tight against her skull.They had darkened her skin against epsilon Leo's UV; it was the deepblue-black of twilight. She was wearing a striped clingy and velcroslippers to help her get around for the short time she'd be navigating our.2 micrograv."Welcome to Tuulen Station." I smiled and offered my hand. "My name isMichael." We shook. "I'm supposed to be a sapientologist but I alsomoonlight as the local guide.""Guide?" She nodded distractedly. "Okay." She peered past me, as ifexpecting someone else."Oh, don't worry," I said, "the dinos are in their cages."Her eyes got wide as she let her hand slip from mine. "You call the Hanendinos?""Why not?" I laughed. "They call us babies. The weeps, among other things."She shook her head in amazement. People who've never met a dino tendedto romanticize them: the wise and noble reptiles who had masteredsuperluminal physics and introduced Earth to the wonders of galacticcivilization. I doubt Kamala had ever seen a dino play poker or gobbledown a screaming rabbit. And she had never argued with Linna, who stillwasn't convinced that humans were psychologically ready to go to the stars."Have you eaten?" I gestured down the corridor toward the reception rooms."Yes ... I mean, no." She didn't move. "I am not hungry.""Let me guess. You're too nervous to eat. You're too nervous to talk,even. You wish I'd just shut up, pop you into the marble, and beam youout. Let's just get this part the hell over with, eh?""I don't mind the conversation, actually.""There you go. Well, Kamala, it is my solemn duty to advise you thatthere are no peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on Gend. And no chickenvindaloo. What's my name again?""Michael?""See, you're not that nervous. Not one taco, or a single slice ofeggplant pizza. This is your last chance to eat like a human.""Okay." She did not actually smile -- she was too busy being brave --but a corner of her mouth twitched. "Actually, I would not mind a cup oftea.""Now, tea they've got." She let me guide her toward reception room D;her slippers snicked at the velcro carpet. "Of course, they brew it fromlawn clippings.""The Gendians don't keep lawns. They live underground.""Refresh my memory." I kept my hand on her shoulder; beneath the clingy,her muscles were rigid. "Are they the ferrets or the things with theorange bumps?""They look nothing like ferrets."We popped through the door bubble into reception D, a compact rectangularspace with a scatter of low, unthreatening furniture. There was a kitchenstation at one end, a closet with a vacuum toilet at the other. Theceiling was blue sky; the long wall showed a live view of the Charles Riverand the Boston skyline, baking in the late June sun. Kamala had justfinished her doctorate at MIT.I opaqued the door. She perched on the edge of a couch like a wren, readyto flit away.While I was making her tea, my fingernail screen flashed. I answered itand a tiny Silloin came up in discreet mode. She didn't look at me; shewas too busy watching arrays in the control room. =A problem,= her voicebuzzed in my earstone, =most negligible, really. But we will have to voidthe last two from today's schedule. Save them at Lunex until first shifttomorrow. Can this one be kept for an hour?="Sure," I said. "Kamala, would you like to meet a Hanen?" I transferredSilloin to a dino-sized window on the wall. "Silloin, this is KamalaShastri. Silloin is the one who actually runs things. I'm just thedoorman."Silloin looked through the window with her near eye, then swung around andpeered at Kamala with her other. She was short for a dino, just over ameter tall, but she had an enormous head that teetered on her neck like awatermelon balancing on a grapefruit. She must have just oiled herselfbecause her silver scales shone. =Kamala, you will accept my happiestintentions for you?= She raised her left hand, spreading the skinny digitsto expose dark crescents of vestigial webbing."Of course, I ..."=And you will permit us to render you this translation?=She straightened. "Yes."=Have you questions?=I'm sure she had several hundred, but at this point was probably tooscared to ask. While she hesitated, I broke in. "Which came first, thelizard or the egg?"Silloin ignored me. =It will be excellent for you to begin when?="She's just having a little tea." I said, handing her the cup. "I'llbring her along when she's done. Say an hour?"Kamala squirmed on couch. "No, really, it will not take me ..."Silloin showed us her teeth, several of which were as long as piano keys.=That would be most appropriate, Michael.= She closed; a gull flewthrough the space where her window had been."Why did you do that?" Kamala's voice was sharp."Because it says here that you have to wait your turn. You're not theonly migrator we're sending this morning." This was a lie, of course; wehad had to cut the schedule because Jodi Latchaw, the other sapientologistassigned to Tuulen, was at the University of Hipparchus presenting ourpaper on the Hanen concept of identity. "Don't worry, I'll make the timefly."For a moment, we looked at each other. I could have laid down an hour'sworth of patter; I'd done that often enough. Or I could have drawn herout on why she was going: no doubt she had a blind grandma or second cousinjust waiting for her to bring home those artificial eyes, not to mentionpotential spin-offs which could well end tuberculosis, famine and prematureejaculation, blah, blah, blah. Or I could have just left her alone in theroom to read the wall. The trick was guessing how spooked she really was."Tell me a secret," I said."What?""A secret, you know, something no one else knows."She stared as if I'd just fallen off Mars."Look, in a little while you're going some place that's what ... threehundred and ten light years away? You're scheduled to stay for threeyears. By the time you come back, I could easily be rich, famous andelsewhere; we'll probably never see each other again. So what have yougot to lose? I promise not to tell."She leaned back on the couch, and settled the cup in her lap. "This isanother test, right? After everything they have put me through, they stillhave not decided whether to send me.""Oh no, in a couple of hours you'll be cracking nuts with ferrets in somedark Gendian burrow. This is just me, talking.""You are crazy.""Actually, I believe the technical term is logomaniac. It's from theGreek: logos meaning word, mania meaning two bits short of a byte. I justlove to chat is all. Tell you what, I'll go first. If my secret isn'tjuicy enough, you don't have tell me anything."Her eyes were slits as she sipped her tea. I was fairly sure thatwhatever she was worrying about at the moment, it wasn't being swallowed bythe...
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