“Just so you get it all out.” Guibedo sat down heavily.
“Four months ago, my lord, you recall there was an unpleasant incident on Lady Patricia’s first night here.”
“I try to forget it.”
“Then you recall that you desired my Lady Patricia for purposes of friendship and mating…”
“That’s maybe a crude way to say it.”
“Sorry, my lord. The choice of words is difficult.”
“Just get on with it.”
“Yes, my lord. But she at first rejected you.”
“Well, I was pretty drunk and smelly. Anyway, a girl needs time to make up her mind.”
“There was more to it than that, my lord. It seems that with some human females, certain physical characteristics are required of a male to elicit a proper sexual response. Common among these characteristics are height, slenderness, and youth.”
“So you’re saying that I’m too old and fat and ugly to get a girl?”
“And short, my lord.” Dirk was trying to be precise.
“And short, damn it! Look. A lot of people don’t care what somebody looks like on the outside. And the fact that I’ve got one hell of a pretty girl proves it!”
“You’re right, of course, in many instances, my lord. But in this particular case, well, what my Lady Patricia thinks you look like is at considerable variance with your actual physical appearance.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The morning after that night, my lord, Liebchen saw that Lady Patricia’s programming was causing both herself and you considerable pain. Therefore, in order to ensure the happiness of all concerned, Liebchen modified Lady Patricia’s perceptions and programming, to make her eager to stay here with you.”
‘“What? So how could Liebchen do such a thing? Liebchen controls trees, not people.”
“Liebchen can control a synthesizer, my lord. She doesn’t do it rationally, but intuitively. She has no real concept of the chemical compounds produced, but she can sense whether they are the right thing or not. In any event, Liebchen caused a substance to be produced that reduced Lady Patricia’s need-achievement index by thirty points, increased her need-affiliation by a similar amount, and modified her perceptions relative to your physical appearance.”
“Ach.” Guibedo was beginning to believe what Dirk was telling him. Little pieces were starting to fall together: the ridiculously small sweater she had knitted him for his birthday, the time she had tried to sit down beside him in a canoe. “So what does my Patty think I look like?”
“Six one, my lord, one hundred eighty-four pounds. Black hair graying at the temples. The physical build of an Olympic swimmer.”
“Son of a gun, shit! Does Patty know what happened?”
“No, my lord. We were hesitant to take any action without consulting you.”
“We?”
“Lady Mona deduced the truth on the trip, my lord.”
“And how long have you known about this, Dirk?”
“Since the modification occurred, my lord. Four months.”
“And you didn’t tell me about it?”
“My reasoning was the same as Liebchen’s, my lord. It seemed to increase the happiness of all concerned. It was only when I observed Lady Mona’s extreme emotional reaction to this form of chemical programming that I felt that it might be an error. After all, Lord Copernick has reprogrammed, by different means, most of the intruders that we have apprehended.”
“That was self-defense! When somebody is trying to kill you, you’ve either got to kill him back or do something that makes him not want to kill you any more. But to brainwash a pretty young girl just because a fat old man is horny! That’s terrible, Dirk.”
“I see my error, my lord. What course of action do you recommend?”
“That’s obvious, isn’t it? We try to put Patty back the way she was when she first got here. Tell me when Liebchen gets here.”
“Liebchen arrived with me, my lord. She has been waiting in the living room for your decision.”
“And worrying herself sick, huh?”
“Literally, my lord.”
Chikuto was the closest thing the LDUs had to an explosives expert. He had carefully read all of the manuals available on the subject, but he had absolutely no practical experience with them. Aside from fireworks, no one in Life Valley had any need or use for explosives, let alone a desire to actually make any.
Nonetheless, when General Hastings entered the valley with a half pound of plastic explosives taped to his right ankle, Chikuto was judged to be the one most competent to disarm the bomb.
It was two o’clock in the morning.
Screened by two dozen of his brothers, who had cleared the area of bystanders, Chikuto crept up to the park bench that served as Hastings’ bed. Flat on his back, Hastings snored loudly.
Hastings’ left ankle was resting on top of his right, and, working in almost complete darkness, Chikuto gently lifted it off the bomb. Hastings snorted but remained asleep.
Working carefully by touch, Chikuto removed the blasting cap and scooped the old, hot, and sticky C-4 out of its package. Since the manuals had said that plastique resembled gray modeling clay, he had brought a half pound of clay with him. His fingers were thick with C-4 as he gently pushed the kneaded clay into the package.
All told, between the C-4 reintroduced into the package from Chikuto’s fingers and that which had remained stuck to the package, the “disarmed” bomb contained more than an ounce of plastique.
Chikuto’s last mistake was to replace the blasting cap. He hadn’t the slightest concept of what the cap alone could do.
Liebchen sat tiny in the huge living room, biting her lip, tears dropping from her chin, shivering as with fever. They’d throw her out, of course. They wouldn’t let anyone as wicked and evil as she was raise human children or even her own babies. They’d make her work in a restaurant and there’d be a lot of people, but none of them would love her. Even her sisters and Lady Mona wouldn’t want to see her again. Maybe they’d make her work with Mole in the tunnels, and Mole would hate her and it would be terrible. Maybe she should just die. Maybe that would be best.
Guibedo came in, his face expressionless, and Liebchen’s heart almost stopped. But when he saw her quivering, he softened and sat down beside her.
“It’s okay, little one.” Guibedo put a thick arm around her and held her to him like a father consoling his daughter. “Everything is going to be all right.”
Dirk came in and sat quietly at their feet, eager to be a part of their being together.
Guibedo said, “I guess maybe this is my fault, because I don’t explain what is happening, because I make easy things look hard and hard things look easy. You two, you see me or Heiny work with gene sequences and computer simulations for two or three months, and then spend ten or twenty hours at a microscalpel and presto! Life!
“What you don’t see is the four billion years that had to go by before I could sit at that chair. Four billion years of tiny random modifications, with only one in ten billion worth preserving. Ten billion organisms doomed to an early death so that one could be a little bit faster or stronger or smarter or more efficient. And when that one finally came along, it spread and multiplied at the expense of its own parents, forcing them out, taking their food, and, in the course of many painful years, completely eradicating all of its own species that don’t have that tiny modification.
“It was four billion years of killing and being killed, eating and being eaten. Until at last a single species, man, was evolved that was so smart and versatile and tough that after only a million years it attained a complete domination over its environment. Only when it became that strong could it have the time and the ability and the inclination to be gentle, to hope for a world where there would be room enough for all, a world bro-. ken away from the endless cycle of suffering.