Earthseed

1
    Zoheret rolled slowly down the corridor, flexing her knees as she skated. The wide, brightly lit hall curved ahead of her; the lights above flickered past as she speeded up, careful not to skate too rapidly. The gleaming white wall to her right became a blur of bright colors as she passed a mural. Several of her friends had painted the picture; Zoheret’s own face, topped by thick, black hair, peered out from among the green leaves of a bush. Other faces nestled among trees and flowers. She frowned. Someone had blackened her painted white teeth, and the mural was marred by a long, red streak.
    She could go on and skate toward Ship’s center, or turn and roll toward the corridor’s end, meeting the tubeway that could whisk her through Ship or up to another level. Beyond the corridors were empty caverns and rocky passageways enclosed by a thick layer of rock; outside the rock and its shielding was the black space through which Ship rushed, distant stars distorted by its speed. Zoheret had seen what was beyond only through Ship’s screens or in its observatory.
    Her earliest memory was of Ship’s voice soothing her, though she could not recall why she had needed consolation. Ship had always been there, around her, watching and tending her.
    She slowed down when she saw a boy limping through the corridor. “Anoki,” she called out. He turned and she skated up to his side. “Where are you going?”
    “The library.”
    “I’ll go with you. Feeling better?”
    “I’m all right.”
    “You look better.” She skated ahead, then waited for him to catch up. Hearing the sound of other approaching skaters, she moved quickly toward the wall and peered down the corridor. Anoki was still in the middle of the hall; he began to limp toward her. Two skaters, now visible, sped around the curve, knees bent, heads down. Zoheret recognized Manuel and Ho. The skates were supposed to speed their progress through Ship, but some had made skating a game.
    “Slow down!” she shouted at them. The two boys lifted their heads. Manuel frowned, and swerved slightly; Ho seemed to speed up. He was heading straight for Anoki. Anoki stumbled to one side and Ho brushed him with an arm as he passed, knocking the other boy down.
    “Don’t go so fast,” Zoheret said as they passed her.
    Manuel grinned, showing even white teeth. “Sorry,” he said, whipping by. He and Ho disappeared around the curve ahead; she heard them laugh.
    She hurried to Anoki. As he climbed to his feet, he waved her hand away. “I’m all right.” His straight black hair was hanging over his eyes; he brushed it back.
    “They know they shouldn’t skate so quickly.”
    “I’m all right. It doesn’t matter.” Anoki’s brown eyes were without expression; his mouth twisted into his familiar bitter smile. They moved down the corridor, Zoheret rolling slowly so that Anoki could keep up with her. “They can’t be expected to look out for me. Almost anyone else could have gotten out of the way.”
    “You’re doing much better,” she said. “You don’t need crutches anymore, and—”
    “Yes, I’m doing better. I’m still not well.”
    “But you can do a lot more now.”
    “Don’t tell me what I can do. You wouldn’t know anything about it. You’re healthy. Ship helped me, but it could have been more careful at the beginning.”
    “Ship can make mistakes, too.”
    “I know. It’s easy for you to say, Zoheret. You’re not one of the mistakes.”
    She had no answer to that.
    “You and Lillka were the only ones who came to see me when I was healing,” Anoki went on. “And Willem.”
    “That isn’t true. Almost everybody did.”
    “Once or twice. And I’ll bet it was only because Ship told them to.”
    They approached the library. The door slid open and they entered the large room. Zoheret would not admit it to Anoki, but she understood why he had not had many visitors while he had been in the infirmary. He often seemed bored or contemptuous. His disability also frightened others, reminding them of their own vulnerability; Zoheret had felt that fear herself. It could have happened to any of them. It might have happened to her.
    Screens and chairs were clustered around the room; booths lined the walls. The library’s microcircuits held millions of books; Ship could provide a printed copy, a slide of the book to be read with a reader, or could show an illustrated book on one of the screens. A cube as high as the ceiling and almost as wide as