Human Sister

our artificial sky. Each time I examine it for cracks that might be caused by the tremendous pressure of water at this depth, I wonder: How will Michael’s children respond when they finally experience the real sky, that blue-within-blue immensity they won’t be able to touch merely by standing atop a desk? Will they think it a hollow fraud, its clouds merely ephemeral floss unimaginably far away? And once they’re ashore, free at last of these domes, which until then will have held them inside like a jealous lover, how will they experience the ocean—the salt, the seaweed, the labial scent of the sea—from which they came but never so much as dipped their little toes into?

    Early in the morning of Monday, 11 November, two months after Mom, Dad, Aunt Lynh, and all of their human companions on Mars had died, Elio and I walked under the dripping arborway toward the garage. The old joints of the garage door creaked as it rose in the cool air. Elio set his briefcase down beside his car, walked over to Lily’s house, and peeked in. “Good morning, Lily!”
    Her face appeared, nose lowered, eyes downcast. She looked blue, perhaps ashamed that she’d again failed to greet us. “Good girl!” he said, stroking her head. “I don’t blame you for wanting to stay in where it’s nice and dry. On days like this, I’d rather do that myself, rather than drive to school.”
    Two months—it had been a difficult time for Lily. She’d had several organs replaced because of cancer, and she’d never fully recovered her spunk. Now, we were managing arthritis until Dr. Lopez, her veterinarian, felt she could endure an operation to replace her hip and shoulder joints. “Nearly fourteen,” I was told. “That’s old for a German shepherd. You’ve got to expect these things.”
    Two months—it had been a difficult time for me, too. I’d missed Mom and Dad more in death, it seemed, than in life. Each cold night and each thought of the approaching winter saddened me, reminding me that their bodies probably lay frozen out on some Martian plain.
    I’d also felt First Brother’s absence more now that he was at an unreachable distance. He had become the androids’ leader and had broadcast to Earth heartrending, precise details of the attacks, the deaths of their human companions, the deaths of many of their human attackers, the misery and the putting down of several of their own kind that had been mutilated beyond repair. And he had threatened that additional attacks against the androids would bring unspecified dire consequences to humanity.
    I failed to help you love, I’d thought, watching him deliver this threat. He had appeared as cold as Mom had during her final transmissions.
    I walked with Elio back to his car. He kissed me and said he would pick me up the next morning at the Palo Alto Airport.
    Two days after the crisis climaxed on Mars, Grandpa had insisted I begin my university education. He’d explained that it was important for me to meet other bright young people and that he could no longer keep up with the pace of my learning. I’d countered that his tutorials were going well, that I planned to continue following all of Elio’s classes, and that I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Michael, who, I’d claimed, was challenging me more than any university class ever could.
    “True,” he’d said. “But you also must begin interacting with other people your age. I’ll try to get you enrolled as a part-time student. You and Michael look at the fall schedule of classes and pick out two or three that meet on the same two days of the week. You can drive in with Elio if you have Monday or Thursday classes. Other mornings, I’ll take you with me in the tiltrotor, and you can return with me at night. Two days away from here each week will do you good, and you’ll bring back many stimulating ideas and experiences for Michael.”
    Michael had enthusiastically agreed with Grandpa, and I’d enrolled in three graduate courses—Discrete Analysis, Neurogenesis, and Quantum Theory of Entropic Ordering—all of which met on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. However, because Grandpa insisted on having security personnel close by me whenever I was away from home, interacting with other students had been a bit strained at first; but as time went by, it seemed as though the guards began to blend into the background.
    I stood beside Lily as Elio drove away; then I groomed her and massaged her hips and shoulders