Theresa had a sudden visceral memory. This was how her stomach had felt when she and Lillie had gone to the picnic grove at Andrews Air Force Base to be bawled out by Lillie’s Uncle Keith, the day after the girls had crashed a party in the boys’ dorm. A lifetime ago. Yet for a moment, she’d felt again the Maryland sunlight, smelled the honeysuckle, heard the roar of jets taking off and landing.
“I don’t know where to begin,” Scott said. “The children’s genome is… is what? Is ours, and isn’t. As far as I can tell from the preliminary scan, they possess the same forty-six chromosomes we do, and all the genes we have on those chromosomes. But every chromosome except the X and Y have extra genes spliced in, because… I still can’t believe this. It can’t be true.”
“Tell me, damn it!”
“There’s no junk DNA. You remember, Tess, from what we learned at Andrews, that the—”
“I don’t remember anything of what I learned at Andrews. I don’t have that sort of mind. Start at the beginning.”
“Okay. The human genome is about seventy-five percent nonfunctioning base pairs. Some is fossilized virus genomes that spliced themselves in hundreds of millions of years ago. Some are stray scattered fragments of DNA that don’t do anything, just get themselves replicated over and over whenever a cell divides. Some are —”
“I get the picture. Get on with it, Scott.” His eyes still had that dazed bemusement.
He licked his lips. “The babies’ genome, it doesn’t have any of those introns at all. None. They’ve all been cut out.”
“Three-quarters of their genome is gone?”
“Yes. It’s an amazing job. And more… there are new genes added in place of the excised base pairs. Tens of thousands of them.”
“What do the new genes do?”
“How the hell should I know? They make proteins, or regulate protein making, because that’s what genes do. But until I see them in action, I don’t know what proteins or what regulation or… or anything.”
Theresa fell silent. Night insects sang around them in the dark. From somewhere blew the sweet sharp smell of mint. “Scott… are they human?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know… how are you defining human? They share twenty-five percent of our time-damaged genome. Hell, chimps share ninety-eight percent!”
“They look human. They look like human babies.”
“I know.”
Theresa jumped up. “They are human babies. Lillie’s babies. Listen, this is very important. Don’t say to anyone what you’ve said to me. Don’t lie. Just say… say that the babies have all our genes. That’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“If you say more, if you tell—”
He said irritably, “I know what the consequences would be, Tess. I can’t even publish in what’s left of the Net scientific journals. If anyone knew even that you and I and Lillie are pribir kids, there would be people from Wenton unhappy about our presence. Some folk there don’t even like Carolina being here. And if I published this genome, either I’d be dismissed as a crackpot or… or I wouldn’t.”
Theresa said, “They’re just little babies. Let them have a chance at a normal life. God, I can’t believe I just called how we live now ‘normal.’”
“Kids think whatever they grow up with is normal. But, Tess, I want to go on gathering data from the kids. How do I explain that if I say their genome is identical to ours?”
She considered, chewing on her lip. “Say they have six extra genes.”
“Six? Why six?”
“Twenty-six, then. Do you think anybody here knows enough about genetics to interpret that?”
“Yes. All the kids who went to the ship. Especially Rafe and Emily.”
“Well, they’re not going to broadcast it. Just say there’s a small difference from us, enough so it’s plausible you’d study it but not enough to make the babies seem too different.”
“All right,” Scott said. “You know, when the wind dies down, it’s pleasant here.”
Theresa said, “When the wind dies down, and we’re not having a hugely destructive storm, and the sun has set, and no toxins happen to be carried on the breeze, and the tropical diseases that have come north aren’t infecting, and the UV damage hasn’t caused too much cancer… then, yes, it’s pleasant here.”
He said, “Do you ever wish you’d gone, that night at Quantico? Gone up to the pribir ship instead of staying behind?”
“And have missed out on all the excitement of the last forty years? No.”
“Ha,” he laughed mirthlessly.
Theresa stood. “We should get back to the house.”
“Wait a minute more. Now that I’ve got the analyzer, I’d like to scan your genome, too. And Jody and Carlo and Spring and Senni. Plus Senni’s children. I’d like to see if the modifications we carry are dominant.”
“You mean…” God, she’d never considered this before! “You mean, my kids and grandkids might be able to smell pribir messages? Like we did?”
“If there were any pribir to send. Which there aren’t. Can I scan them, Tess?”
“If they let you.”
“Okay. You go on in, I want to sit here and think for a while.”
She was glad to leave him. She didn’t want any more information to confuse her actions. Besides, her arms ached to hold a newborn baby: that helpless warmth against her chest, those rosy sucking little lips screwing themselves into yawns and cries and, eventually, smiles. Why should Carolina get all the cuddle time?
Theresa ran back to the farm house in the fragrant dusk, feeling light as a young girl, light as air.
Emily also had an easy birth, bearing three bald, round, blue-eyed girls. Bonnie had two boys and a girl. Sajelle bore two girls and a boy, chocolate-brown infants with huge brown eyes. Only Julie had a difficult time. One of her triplets, a girl, died soon after birth. The other two, a boy and girl, were healthy and strong.
“We’re awash in babies,” Bonnie said. She gazed lovingly at her three infants, miraculously all asleep at the same time in baskets lined up in her room. Yet another addition had been hastily put on the farm house, which now looked like a crazily growing organism of some kind. Each mother shared a tiny bedroom with her children. Jody and Carolina had a room but the other men had moved, with relief, to the barn. All the babies were remarkably good: no colic, no projectile vomiting, no prolonged crying. Theresa, sleeping on a pallet in the great room, silently thanked the pribir.
Carolina was invaluable. From dawn till bedtime she tirelessly tended children, cooing endearments at them in Spanish. “Mi corazon, mi carino, primito . . .” Then she disappeared one day in the cart, returning with two other Mexican girls and a boy of about twelve.
Jody translated. “These are Carolina’s cousins, Lupe and Rosalita and Juan. They can help with the babies.” Jody looked defiant and embarrassed; clearly he had not authorized this.
Theresa looked at the newcomers. Skinny, malnourished, hopeful, clinging desperately to each other’s hands. Carolina said pleadingly, “Rosalita, Lupe, Juan work much. Very much.”
Theresa said to Jody, “Can we feed all these people? The babies won’t be on breast milk forever, you know.”
“I think so. We’re doing pretty well, Mom. Cattle prices are a little up now that things are returning to normal, and we’re going to unload twenty more head at Wenton.”