“We ourselves again,” Sajelle said grimly.
Yes. But how, and why? And who had Lillie been before? All of a sudden she wanted to cry, or kick something, or find Pam and Pete and demand explanations, reasons.
The door to commons opened and Rafe came through, very pale. “I did it.”
“Did what?” Sajelle snapped. “What your sorry ass doing now?”
“I took out the scent-organism complex.”
The girls stared at him. He said impatiently, “Don’t be stupid, you two! If the lawn machine was organic, then don’t you see that the scent-producing mechanism must be, too? It’s the ‘right way.’ Genetically engineer everything you can, and regard the rest with disdain. Olfactory molecules have been coming at us day and night, incredibly complex molecules, controlling our behavior. Probably acting on the emotional areas of the brain just the way the learning molecules act on the cortex.”
Lillie struggled to take it in. “You mean… Pam and Pete have been controlling our behavior? With engineered molecules? Getting us to…” She couldn’t finish.
“You got it,” Rafe said grimly. “Getting us to like school, and be happy here on ship, and not worry about what we left down below, and fuck like minks.”
“You wrong!” Sajelle yelled. “Nobody controls me!”
“Wanna bet?”
Sajelle swung on him. She connected. Rafe was taller than he had been but still slightly built; he went down, staggering up a moment later with a bloody nose.
“I’m sorry,” Sajelle whispered.
“Yeah, I’ll bet you are.” Rafe looked on the verge of tears. “Listen, Sajelle, would you have done that if I hadn’t poisoned the scent organisms? I don’t think so. Face facts for once in your unintellectual life, why don’t you.”
Lillie cried, “How did you do it, Rafe?”
“Not hard. I found the opening in commons—apparently it does our whole area —made some strong acid in the school, and poured it in.”
“We weren’t taught to make any acid.”
He looked disgusted. “Not by Pam and Pete. But unlike you, I knew some chemistry before I arrived here. I had some other priorities than clothes and sports and sex.”
“You and Emily done your share of fucking since you got here,” Sajelle jeered. “Or did you two just talk about chemistry all them nights?”
Lillie said, “We have to go back. To Earth. My Uncle Keith… how long have we been here?”
Rafe said, blood still streaming from his nose, “Seven months and twelve days. It’s April 10.”
April 10! God, how had so much time passed? She hadn’t known, hadn’t even remembered, hadn’t been herself. Who had she been? The things she’d done with Jason and Mike…
Lillie said to Rafe, “They didn’t control us completely, or we’d all have been the same. But we weren’t! Sam was still a bully, and you were still interested in science stuff, and Elizabeth was still religious, and—”
“You’re right,” Rafe said sulkily. “Basic personality remained. Like Sajelle being an idiot. But olfactory molecules controlled our moods, made us happy here no matter what, took away missing people and wanting to go home and sexual inhibitions and any emotional pain.”
Any emotional pain. Her jealousy and betrayal over Mike, and then all at once it vanished. Just like that. And Sajelle saying “What’s that smell?” And the talk with Pam in the garden, Lillie thinking Pam was wonderful, so warm and caring.
Sajelle said, “You crazy, Rafe. Why would Pam and Pete want us fucking like that?”
“I don’t know.” He’d succeeded in stopping the blood flow from his nose. He looked a mess, bloody and dirty and angry.
A door flew open and Rebecca rushed out. “Hey! I woke up and… what is this?”
“Tell them, Rafe,” Sajelle said, and even under her roil of painful emotions Lillie could see that Sajelle was trying to make amends to Rafe, trying to let him shine.
Rafe began his explanation again. In the middle of it Sam and Jessica bolted out of Jessie’s room, and Rafe had to begin a third time. When Julie appeared, Rafe said in disgust, “I’m not going to keep doing this! Wake up everybody and get them into commons so I can tell everybody at once!”
“You better watch who you’re ordering around,” Sam said threateningly. He waved a fist in Rafe’s bloody face. Rebecca scowled at Sam. Julie, cowering against a wall, began to cry silently, tears sliding down her frightened face.
They were all themselves again, Lillie realized. They’d been themselves all along, but only partly, the rest of their selves controlled and manipulated and tamed. And now they were themselves again completely. And so was she, and she was scared and angry, and she wanted to go home.
She fought down the feelings. “Becky, start waking up people. You, too, Jessie. Try to be gentle. Julie, stop bawling! It isn’t going to help. We need to get everybody into the commons room.”
Elizabeth ran out of her room. Lillie caught sight of Elizabeth’s face and the thought flashed across her mind: None of the rest of us are that terrified! But there was no time for Elizabeth. Lillie got the others set at waking people up, and then she went with Rafe to the commons.
“Here, put this on your nose, it’s bleeding again.” She handed him the sash from her pants.
“The effect is in here, too, do you feel it? Or, rather, the lack of effect.” His voice was unsteady.
“Rafe, do you think that by poisoning those… organisms, you might have poisoned our air, too? Is it safe to breathe, long term?”
“As far as I know.”
“Okay,” Lillie said.
“Do you think we should call Pam and Pete? If that’s even possible.”
It was possible, Lillie knew. Standing in her bare feet on the thick garden grass, bleating for Pam, who had reassured her about the birth-control pill and told her she was different and special, that Lillie and she were the same because they wanted, needed, meaning in their lives. Wonderful, caring Pam, who had turned Lillie into a puppet for seven and a half months. Who had used pheromones to make her forget Uncle Keith, and stay mindlessly on the Flyer, and have sex with Mike and then Jason, and…
“No,” she told Rafe. “Don’t call Pam or Pete. Some of the others might kill them. Sam or Jessica, for instance.” And me.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Rafe said. “Fuck.”
When they were all there, Rafe explained again what he’d done. He showed them the slit, a small horizontal slash high near the ceiling, into which he’d poured the acid. Shouting and tears and horror followed, a pandemonium until Jon out-shouted everybody else and got them listening again.
Proof, Lillie thought through her own anger and fear, that there were no surveillance cameras in commons. If Pam and Pete knew what was going on, wouldn’t they be there?
“The question is,” Jon said, “what are we going to do?”
“Kill the fuckers!”
“Sam, think,” Jon said curtly. “Even if we could do that, what good would it do? We want to go home.”
“Make them send us home!” Sophie called.
“How?”
More argument, everyone jumping up and talking at once, no one listening. But what good would listening do? Nobody, as far as Lillie could tell, had any real ideas. Finally, in a lull resulting not from agreement so much as exhaustion, Lillie said, “We have to ask Pam and Pete to send us home.”
“Ask them? You think they care what we want?”
“They sure didn’t ask us before!”
“Break down the fucking door! The door they took Lillie through when she was sick! Beat the shit out of them until they scream!” Sam, yelling again. Lillie looked at him, dressed only in jeans, fists clenched, stubble on his chin. Looking demented, like something from a bad video game. She looked at all her friends, these people she’d spent seven and a half months with, now furious and terrified and helpless.