Donald Moffitt - Genesis 01

decapod’s crown quivered in a manner that was equivalent to a man’s shaking his head. “No. I told you that people and things can never travel so far. But information can—information in the form of radio waves, spreading outward at the speed of light. Before they vanished from the universe, human beings had achieved the power to tame whole suns and use their energy to shout across the space between galaxies. They told us many useful things. And one of the things their message contained was a—a sort of plan. A plan of how to make a human egg.”
    “They must have been very smart,” Bram said with a yawn.
    Voth squeezed Bram’s shoulder gently. The four star points that were not occupied stood straight up in the air and drooped symmetrically outward in a formal gesture of respect.
    “They were a very great people at the height of their powers,” Voth said. “We Nar were fortunate that during the years the human message was being broadcast, we were in the early stages of our own space age. We had already begun to colonize the worlds of the lesser sun, and we had sent our first primitive boron-drive ships to the nearest star outside our system, almost a whole light-year away. So we had a large enough radio ear already in place—a field of thousands of receivers covering a hemisphere of one of our smaller airless moons. We knew something of genetic engineering even then, but the human message was a revelation. As were the genetic building blocks the humans gave us—useful things like terrestrial starches and woody stems that made it possible for us to expand more quickly and cheaply into space. Within a single Nar lifetime, the whole direction of our civilization had changed. We had the beginnings of abundance. And then, half a Nar lifetime ago, we were ready to try to recreate man himself. I was fortunate to be a part of that new beginning, though I was but a small finger of the bioengineering touch group entrusted with the project. Yes, little one, we are very grateful for human beings.” Bram’s attention had wandered. He rubbed at a sleepy eye with one fist. “Voth, can I play with Tha-tha?”
    The tentacle whose tip rested on Bram’s shoulder uncreased all the way up and enfolded the boy in its comforting mantle. “First I think you had better have your nap.”
    “Tha-tha’s very nice. He’s my favorite touch brother.”
    “Yes, he is nice. He’ll grow into a fine person one day.”
    “Will he still be my friend when we grow up?”
    Again there was that sensation of sadness from the downy undersurface of Voth’s limb. “Touch brothers are always friends. For as long as they live.”
    “Will I be able to speak the Great Language to him then?”
    “Let’s not talk about that now. It’s a very complicated subject.”
    “Sometimes he forgets to talk the Small Language and he just hugs me and I can’t understand him.”
    “Don’t worry about that, little one. I’ll speak to Tha-tha. Young creatures are sometimes forgetful.”
    “Voth?”
    “What, child?”
    “Does Tha-tha have a gene mother too?”
    A startled ripple traveled down Voth’s tentacle. “Well, yes, of course. All Nar had mothers.”
    “I asked him, but he didn’t know.”
    “He wouldn’t remember. He was just a little swimming thing. After sentience, of course, he was raised by me and my touch brothers.” The edges of the fleshy mantle curled in a way that Bram had come to recognize as the usual grown-up reticence, like when he asked mama-mu Dlors where they grew babies.
    “Where do all the lady Nar go! You hardly ever see them, the way you see human ladies all the time, and then they’re all old. And you never see a little girl Nar.”
    “That’s enough for one day,” Voth said firmly. “Time for your nap.”
    Bram allowed himself to be guided past the toy box, past his own little desk with the styluses and reading screen, past the miniature star-shaped whole-body reader that his touch brothers stretched themselves out on for hours at a time, to the cot in the corner, which still had his baby touch objects and alphabet letters dangling over it.
    “Some day,” Bram said as Voth started to tuck him in, “I’m going to go back to the world that human people started out on and see what it’s like.”
    “Hush now, and go to sleep. I’ve told you it’s not possible.”
    “I’ll find a way to go anyhow,” Bram said.
    The old decapod gathered the boy compassionately in his petals. “Oh, Bram, you are