“It was to us too,” Ellis said. “So I’m guessing you don’t have wars?”
Pax looked shocked and turned away as if Ellis had said an offensive word.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Part of the new pattern the ISP created was the removal of the Y chromosome and the aggression that came with it. It was the source of the vast majority of violence. Conflict of that sort hasn’t existed in centuries.” Pax grimaced and shivered for effect.
“The Y chromosome…you’re talking about men—males. That’s what people with the Y chromosome are.”
“I’ve read about the sexes,” Pax explained. “Seen some restored grams on the subject. It all seems so…complicated—and dangerous. And such an inadequate means of reproduction. Darwinism—the haphazard selection of genes—produced such unpredictable results when everything was left to random chance. It would be like shuffling coords and jumping blindfolded through portals. It amazes me that it took so long to take control of our own existence. I can’t imagine what people were thinking back then.”
“You’re aware that I’m male?”
Pax made an embarrassed face. “I suspected.”
“Everyone is female then?”
“No. There aren’t any sexes anymore. All that unnecessary equipment was removed just like the appendix. You used to have those, too, didn’t you?”
Ellis nodded.
“The ISP pruned away all the leftover genetic branches because they were invitations to disease and malfunctions, not to mention just plain silly to carry around.”
“Hair included?” Ellis ruffed his own.
Pax nodded, looking embarrassed again, and Ellis wondered if he was performing the equivalent of picking his nose.
“So, you don’t have sex anymore? Sexual pleasure, I mean? Orgasms, we called them.”
Pax looked at him, grinning.
“What?”
“I just realized you’ve never experienced delectation.”
“What’s that?”
His comment made Pax laugh. “Are you aware that pain and pleasure are generated in the brain? When you touch something, tactile information is sent to the brain, which interprets it and then provides you with a sensation. Delectation just skips the physical part. There’s a whole art form where people devise new and incredible delectations. There’s even a classics linethat is supposed to re-create orgasms, inebriation, drug highs, and other sensations from the past. I’ve tried a few. I didn’t like the inebriation one. It just made me dizzy, which really wasn’t pleasant at all. The orgasm one was nice, but very short. Were they really only a few seconds long? If the reproductions are accurate, you’re in for a treat.”
Ellis had flashes from the Woody Allen movie Sleeperand decided to change the subject before Pax suggested trying out the orgasm machine or whatever it was. “So why were you at the crime scene? How did you find out about it?”
“I was called by the professor handling the tour. Twelve people saw the body. Some of them were bound to have emotional stress. Cha came with me, which is pretty routine. Then when you opened your eyes—well, who better than an arbitrator to handle first-contact?”
“Do you have any idea who the killer is?”
“We don’t even know who the victim was.” Pax offered a smile and touched his hand again—a gentle touch, soft hands. “Your assistance was amazing, by the way, and thank you again for that. The Grand Council feels the murders are the result of anger over the Hive Project. And I know there is a lot of emotion circulating—a lot of fear. I have my own concerns, as you can probably tell.” Pax gestured at the material of the frock coat with a smirk, indicating something obvious that Ellis didn’t understand. “I find it hard to believe that anyone upset over the Hive Project would resort to such extremes.”
“What is the Hive Project?”
“Nothing, really. I mean, it’s just research the ISP is working on. They’ve been at it for centuries and haven’t gotten anywhere, which is why it doesn’t make sense that someone would kill over it. We just aren’t built that way anymore. Anger doesn’t boil over into action—not like it did in your day. We fret, we yell, we scream, we cry, and we hug, mostly in that order, but we don’t strike, and we never kill.”
“Someone does.”
Pax nodded thoughtfully.
Ellis had a dozen more questions. What was this Grand Council? How were people made? What did ISP stand for? Why were they underground? What was Hollow World? He thought of himself at that moment like some three year old about to drive an adult crazy with endless questions. Pax probably had questions too. Ellis realized that in his deluge of inquiries he’d been an ungrateful lout.
“Say, I’d like to thank you for taking care of me,” Ellis said as he wound up a forkful—two thousand years and still no better way to eat pasta. “I would have probably died if you hadn’t.”
Pax smiled, showing perfect white teeth that would have put any twenty-first-century model to shame. “It’s the least I could do for the first-ever time traveler.”
“Why do you suppose that is?” Ellis asked. “I mean, if I could do it, I would have thought there would be others. I kind of figured it would be commonplace these days.”
Pax shrugged. “Alva?”
“Let me run a check, dear. One moment.”A few minutes later she was back, although Ellis guessed she really hadn’t goneanywhere. “No, I’m sorry. There’s nothing about time travel except fictional references in books and movies.”
“Weird,” Ellis said. “It really wasn’t that hard, all things considered.”
“Perhaps you are just underestimating your abilities.”
“Maybe.”
“In any case, here we are, and since we don’t have any experience with such things, it brings up a question,” Pax said. “What do you want to do? Should I announce you to the world or would you rather I not?”
Ellis hadn’t thought about it. He had just assumed sunglass-wearing men in black SUVs would be showing up to whisk him away to some debriefing or research lab. “I assumed you already had—that you were required to report me to your boss. You work for the government, right?”
Pax appeared to have trouble understanding, and while his host pondered this, Ellis took his first mouthful. It was marvelous. The complex flavors were hard to place. Tomatoes were in there somewhere, as were onions, but the rest was a mystery, and a wonderful one at that. “This is reallygood,” he blurted out.
“ Ha! See! I told you it was good,” the vox said, her voice booming across the meadowland like God.
“You’ve made a friend of Alva,” Pax noted.
“I can really taste the tomato, it’s…” Ellis struggled to explain. “It actually tastes like a tomato—I mean the way they used to taste when I was a kid.”
“They changed?” Pax asked.
“Oh—yeah. They mucked genetically with all sorts of foods. Made them larger, more rugged, resistant to disease, and uniform so they’d sell and transport better, but in the process they ruined the taste and texture. In my time, tomatoes had all the flavor of cardboard.”
“With Makers, we don’t have those problems. Food designers focus on taste. They are as much an artist as any other.”
“Speaking of artists, I’m sorry I upset Vin.” Ellis wasn’t disturbed in the slightest and overjoyed to be eating alone with Pax, but Vin was Pax’s…friend? Lover? “Are you two…um…?” He had no idea how to say it and settled for “Roommates?”
Pax was lifting a fork of food and halted, looking uncomfortable. “We both—live here together—yes.” Pax lowered the fork and proceeded to rearrange the pasta on the plate.
“When you say together, what does that mean? Are you a couple?”