O’Reilley sighed, looked at the sleeping newt in the corner. “What’ll ye do with her?”
“The newt? Take her in.”
O’Reilley sat in gloomy silence while he thought things over. “We were class-B, me and the missus,” he mumbled suddenly, “allowed a child of our own if we could have ‘un. Fancy that, eh? Ugly old coot like me—class-B.”
“So?”
“The government said we could have a child, but Nature said we couldn’t.”
“Tough.”
“But since we were class B, we weren’t entitled to own a newt. See?”
“Yeah. Where’s your wife?”
“With the saints, let’s hope.”
Norris wondered what sort of sob-story this was getting to be. The oldster went on quietly, all the while staring at the sleeping figure in the corner.
“Couldn’t have a kid, couldn’t own a newt either—so we opened the pet shop. It wasn’t like havin’ yer own, though. Missus always blubbered when I sold a newt she’d got to feeling like a mother to. Never swiped one, though—not till Peony came along. Last year this Bermuda shipment come in, and I sold most of ’em pretty quick, but Peony here was puny. People ‘fraid she’d not last long. Couldn’t sell her. Kept her around so long that we both loved her. Missus died last year. ‘Don’t let anybody take Peony,’ she kept saying afore she passed on. I promised I wouldn’t. So I switched ’em around and moved her up here.”
“That all?”
O’Reilley hesitated, then nodded.
“Ever done this before?”
O’Reilley shook his head.
There was a long silence while Norris stared at the child-thing. “Your license could be revoked,” he said absently.
“I know.”
He ground his fist thoughtfully in his palm, thought it over some more. If O’Reilley told the truth, he couldn’t live with himself if he reported the old man… unless it wasn’t the whole truth.
“I want to take your books home with me tonight.”
“Help yourself.”
“I’m going to make a complete check, investigate you from stem to stern.”
He watched O’Reilley closely. The oldster was unaffected. He seemed concerned—grief-stricken—only by the thought of losing the neutroid.
“If plucking a newt out of stock to keep you company was the only thing you did, O’Reilley, I won’t report you.”
O’Reilley was not consoled. He continued to gaze hungrily at the little being on the rug.
“And if the newt turns out not to be a deviant,” he added gently, “I’ll send it back. We’ll have to attach a correction to that invoice, of course, and you’ll just have to take your chances about somebody wanting to buy it, but… “ He paused. O’Reilley was staring at him strangely.
“And if she is a deviant, Mr. Norris?”
He started to reply, hesitated.
“Is she, O’Reilley?”
The oldster said nothing. His face tightened slowly. His shoulders shook slightly, and his squinted eyes were brimming. He choked.
“I see.”
O’Reilley shook himself, produced a red bandana, dabbed at his eyes, blew his nose loudly, regathered his composure. “How do you know she’s deviant?”
O’Reilley gave him a bitter glance, chuckled hoarsely, shuffled across the room and sat on the floor beside the sleeping newt. He patted a small bare shoulder.
“Peony?… Peony-girl… Wake up, me child, wake up.”
Its fluffy tail twitched for a moment. It sat up, rubbed its eyes, and yawned. There was a lazy casualness about its movements that caused Norris to lean closer to stare. Neutroids usually moved in bounces and jerks and scrambles. This one stretched, arched its back, and smiled—like a two year old with soft brown eyes. It glanced at Norris. The eyes went wider for a moment, then it studiously ignored him.
“Shall I play bouncey, Daddy?” it piped.
Norris sucked in a long slow breath and sat frozen.
“No need to, Peony.” O’Reilley glanced at the inspector. “Bouncey’s a game we play for visitors,” he explained. “Making believe we’re a neutroid.”
The inspector could find nothing to say.
Peony licked her lips. “Wanna glass of water, Daddy.”
O’Reilley nodded and hobbled away to the kitchen, leaving the man and the neutroid to stare at each other in silence. She was quite a deviant. Even a fully age-set K-108 could not have spoken the two sentences that he had heard, and Peony was still a long way from age-set, and a K-99 at that.
O’Reilley came back with the water. She drank it greedily, holding the glass herself while she peered up at the old man. “Daddy’s eyes all wet,” she observed.
O’Reilley began trembling again. “Never mind, child. You go get your coat.”
“Whyyyy?”
“You’re going for a ride with Mr. Norris.”
She whirled to stare hostilely at the stunned visitor. “I don’t want to!”
The old man choked out a sob and flung himself down to seize her in his arms and hug her against his chest. He tearfully uttered a spasmodic babble of reassurances that would have frightened even a human child.
The deviant neutroid began to cry. Standard neutroids never cried; they whimpered and yeeped. Norris felt weak inside. Slowly, the old man lifted his head to peer at the inspector, blinking away tears. He began loosening Peony from the embrace. Suddenly he put her down and stood up.
“Take her quickly,” he hissed, and strode away to the kitchen. He slammed the door behind him. The latch clicked.
Peony scampered to the door and began beating on it with tiny fists. “Daddy… Daddy!!! Open a door!” she wailed.
Norris licked his lips and swallowed a dry place. Still he did not budge from the sofa, his gaze fastened on the child-thing. Disjointed phrases tumbled through his mind… what Man hath wrought… out of the slime of an ape… fat legs and baby fists and a brain to know… and the State spoke to Job out of a whirlwind, saying…
“Take her!” came a roaring bellow from the kitchen. “Take her before I lose me wits and kill ye!”
Norris got unsteadily to his feet and advanced toward the frightened child-thing. He carried her, kicking and squealing, out into the early evening. By the time he turned into his own driveway, she had subsided a little, but she was still crying.
He saw Anne coming down from the porch to meet him. She was staring at the neutroid who sat on the front seat beside him, while seven of its siblings chattered from their cages in the rear of the truck. She said nothing, only stared through the window at the small tear-stained face.
“Home… I want to go home!” it whined.
Norris lifted the newt and handed it to his wife. “Take it inside. Keep your mouth shut about it. I’ll be in as soon as I chuck the others in their cages.”
She seemed not to notice his curtness as she cradled the being in her arms and walked away. The truck lurched on to the kennels.
He thought the whole thing over while he worked. When he was finished, he went back in the house and stopped in the hall to call Chief Franklin. It was the only thing to do: get it over with as quickly as possible. The operator said, “His office fails to answer. No taped readback. Shall I give you the locator?”
Anne came into the hall and stood glaring at him, her arms clenched across her bosom, one foot tapping the floor angrily. Peony stood behind her, no longer crying, and peering at him curiously around Anne’s skirt.
“Are you doing what I think you’re doing, Terry?”