Abel pondered that a moment. "You're right, of course. I shall counsel with Jon and his parents. We must all help him to adjust before—"
"Before someone convinces him he's being selfish," said Rimon. "Watch out for Jon's pride, Abel. He feels he should be able to do anything Willa can! I'm glad you made the point before the whole town that there are to be no private experiments."
"You felt how everyone gravitated toward Jon. I'll admit, it crossed my mind, too—but I've seen him break under pressure. No, next month Willa can teach someone else, and—"
"No, Abel," said Rimon, "you mustn't take her away from Jord."
"But—how are others to learn? Jord already knows the healing mode. Next month he—"
"He would lose control and kill again. Give Jord a chance to build up his health and his confidence."
"His health?"
"He hasn't had a satisfactory kill since Willa spoke her first word. No one in Fort Freedom has."
Abel stared at his steepled fingers. "It's longer than that," he said. "I don't think Jord has ever had a satisfactory kill. I've never seen Jord so—at peace with himself as he is now. You're right. We can't take that from him yet."
"What are you going to do about them?" Del gestured. "Out there? Everybody in town will think up some reason he should be the one to have Willa next month."
"I can give you a good reason to hold them off for two or three months," said Rimon. "It took me that long before I even learned healing mode."
"Jord knows that already. No one else can,perceive it, let alone imitate it."
"Have you tried every Sime at Fort Freedom?"
"No—but now everyone, men and women, must attempt it. We must do something to show progress, and healing mode is important. Rimon, did you not take transfer from Willa in healing mode, every time?"
"That's right," he said.
"But Jord couldn't hold it today—he broke at the same point he has broken each time. At that point, the Gen feels pain and then fear—and is killed."
Del said, "Terror seems to be the natural state of the Gen. From a Sime point of view, that is," he added, glancing at Kadi. "I haven't been able to keep a Gen from becoming scared, no matter how drugged they are, no matter how careful I am. Even—Billy, who knew better, panicked —and I'm sure it's the sensation of selyn movement that causes the panic and—the kill."
Carlana looked from Kadi to Rimon. "Abel, they love each other. That's important—Willa likes Jord, and she likes to make Simes feel good, as she puts it."
"Good will," Abel said, "or even love, isn't enough. Vee couldn't do it. Rimon could—he slowed his draw. And, come to think of it, I've zlinned him doing it, and I don't know how he does it."
"The Gen has to know enough not to be afraid," said Kadi. "But the Sime has to care enough to force himself to go as slowly as necessary. It takes two to make a transfer."
Abel frowned, and then asked, "Can we raise our children not to fear?" He looked from Rimon to Del and Carlana. "The Gen is the primary key—I'm convinced of it. Imagine a community in which Simes did not kill because Gens didn't expect to be killed! I wish Jon had been here today to see Willa's face. I wish all the children had seen it. Imagine growing up, seeing transfers like that all the time. Who would be frightened then? Who would resist? Rimon—surely that is the way God planned Simes and Gens to live together!"
"In the days of the Ancients," Kadi murmured.
"What?" asked Abel.
"The way so many fairy tales start, you know, the kind of stories people tell their—oh."
Rimon stepped into the breach. "I think the story Kadi means is the one that starts, 'In the last days of the Ancients, when Simes and Gens lived together—' It pretty well describes the kind of society you're talking about."
Kadi told them the story, with Del filling in some details of another version. Abel smiled tolerantly. "Obviously a Sime legend—blaming the Gens for the way the world is. Yet—isn't saying that the Gens wanted to keep all the selyn for themselves a way of saying they—resisted? There is always truth within a parable, if only we can see it. Who are the Ancients supposed to be?"
Rimon, Kadi, and Del stared at him in astonishment. "Why—the original people. Humans, before they mutated into Sime and Gen—the builders of the ruined cities—the eyeways—"
"But Gens are the original human race," said Abel "Simes are the mutation."
"I don!t think so," said Kadi. "If the Ancients had all been Gens, what would have been the point of their selyn production? With whom would a person have fulfilled his potential? No, I think both Simes and Gens are mutated, to fit with one another."
"Well, either way," said Abel, "we're clearly meant to live together. I wonder why it has taken all these centuries to figure that out?"
"Maybe some people have," said Rimon. 'There are other legends, stories. Kadi, do you remember old Brova's tall tales?"
"Yes. He claimed to have traveled all the way around the world, and he'd spend hours telling us about strange places."
"Instead of working," added Rimon. "I don't know if Dad fired him for that—or for telling us kids about the island of—what did he call it?"
"I don't remember," said Kadi. "We were only seven or eight years old, but I remember that story, about an island where Simes and Gens lived together without killing. He claimed the Gens would go right up to any Sime in need and offer themselves, and that they didn't die, and afterwards—"
Rimon squirmed, and interposed, "They were just stories!"
"But were they true?"
"I doubt it," said Rimon. "Brova was an old man—the oldest man I've ever met. He claimed to be fifty years past changeover, but nobody lives that long. He was probably thirty or so, and senile."
"Still," said Kadi, "he had to get the ideas somewhere."
"The idea is always around," said Rimon. "Brova just embroidered on it." He noticed a Gen field approaching outside. "Jon—"
The sun was setting. As Mrs. Veritt rose to light the lamps, Jon entered, bringing Zeth to Kadi. "He's hungry," he said.
She smiled up at him, saying, "I know," as she took the baby and prepared to nurse him.
"We'll have to be going home soon," said Rimon. "Jon, do you know where Willa is?"
"I think she went off with Jord somewhere. Rimon, may I stay at home tonight, and come out to you tomorrow? Both Mom and Dad are pre-turnover."
"But you are high-field, Jon. No, we won't take any chances like that."
"That's not fair!" Jon flared.
"What's not fair? Protecting your life?"
"A lot you care! It's blackmail, that's what!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Rimon saw Abel flinch from the Gen's field, and Abel wasn't in need. He moved to put himself between Abel and the boy. With the tension relieved, Veritt said, "Jon, just what is disturbing you?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Veritt," said Jon, but Rimon felt the boy's inner rebellion. "It's just that if I can't visit my parents—or anybody—just because I'm high-field, then I may as well go live out-Territory!" He turned to Rimon. "Since you've got Kadi back, you don't need me, so I'll never be low-field again unless I give transfer to someone else."
Rimon pondered that, disturbed by the truth of Jon's conclusion. But another idea occurred, a chance to test something that had been on his mind since Zeth's birth. "All right, Jon, come here."
He held out his hands, and almost by reflex Jon put his hands into transfer position. Rimon slipped into healing mode, made lip contact, and drew enough selyn from Jon to leave the boy low-field. It was over in an instant. "All right, Jon, you can go home now."