Vidya took a deep breath. Her back straightened and Prasad released her. “That is a long story as well.” She told what had happened after Katsu and Prasad’s disappearance, how she discovered she was pregnant with Sejal and how she changed her name. Guilt and regret at not having been at his wife’s side washed over Prasad. How hard it must have been for her, while he, her husband, had lived in luxury with the daughter she thought dead.
“I did not wish to have another Silent child,” Vidya said. “I found a genegineer-Max Garinn. He said he could use a retrovirus to make Sejal non-Silent. And it seemed he did. Sejal was tested twice for Silence, once at birth and once at age two. Both tests came back negative. But I have since learned that he is indeed Silent, as Katsu says.”
She continued with the story, and Prasad learned how Vidya had built the neighborhood. He blinked as she related in a dispassionate voice how she had spoken to the Children of Irfan and learned of Sejal’s activities in the market. An irrational bit of anger flashed within him. What kind of mother would allow such a thing?
And, whispered a conflicting voice, what kind of father would abandon his son to do it?
“I sent Sejal to the monastery,” Vidya finished. Katsu remained impassive at her feet. “I stayed behind because I had questions. I have many contacts now, and I used them to track down Max Garinn, though it took many days. When I told him who I was, he brought me here. Dr. Kri was extremely excited to see me.”
Prasad remembered how Kri and Say had talked about Katsu’s mitochondrial DNA and how they wanted to study her and her eggs. He could easily understand the sensation Vidya’s arrival would generate.
“When I asked why he excited,” Vidya continued, “he mentioned you, and I refused to answer any more questions until I saw you.”
Prasad grimaced. “Max Garinn was recruited for the lab only six years ago and he never mentioned you. A pity he didn’t. If our…relationships with him had overlapped more closely, this reunion might have taken place years ago.”
Katsu shifted somewhat but didn’t leave her position at Vidya’s feet. Vidya had once again taken to stroking her hair. “What exactly is the lab doing, my husband?”
“My wife has not changed,” Prasad observed with grave humor. “She always wishes instant information.”
“And my husband has not changed,” Vidya said pointedly. “He is ever slow to deliver it.”
“The lab is exploring the genetics of Silence,” Prasad told her. “It began with an attempt to find a way to let Silent gestate in artificial wombs so they would no longer be ripped away from their parents.”
Vidya’s look became skeptical. “They are trying to end the slavery of the Silent by creating people in laboratories?”
“Not quite.” Prasad squirmed a bit under her steady gaze. “They were attempting to end the slavery of women who can produce Silent children. After all, some places not only enslave the Silent, but also those who can produce them. If the project is successful, that would stop.”
“Have you had any success?” Vidya’s voice was hard and flat.
“Some.” Prasad felt reluctant to explain about the Nursery.
“My husband, you have failed to think. I have been in this place less than an hour, but already I can see the lie in that story.” She gestured at the room. “This place is expensive. It must cost billions to maintain it, not to mention what the research itself must cost. Do you honestly think whoever is paying that much money is doing it for such unselfish reasons?”
“I have thought of that.” Prasad scratched one raspy cheek. He had neither showered nor shaved yet this morning. “The process, if we perfect it, would almost certainly be worth mountains of money.”
“And who pays for all this?”
Prasad looked straight at her. “I don’t know. The doctors refuse to say. But when they offered a haven to me and Katsu, I took it. I could have gone back to Ijhan, but that would have meant giving up Katsu on her tenth birthday. I had already lost you. I did not wish to lose her as well. So I stayed and worked for them.” He traced a finger over the curly pattern in the fabric of his chair. “But now, my wife, I am beginning to have doubts.”
Overcoming his reluctance, he explained about the children in the Nursery and that the lab wanted to begin experimenting with Katu’s eggs. Katsu met this news with her usual composure, but Vidya went white.
“How can you stay in such a place?” she hissed.
The words came without thought or hesitation. “I can’t.”
Prasad paused, startled at himself. He had spoken the truth. Words banged inside his skull, demanding release.
“I can’t stay,” he said again. “I do not believe that those children are not sentient. I do not believe they feel no pain. They are in physical and mental distress, and I have not let myself see this. I think…I know I blinded myself to these facts because I wanted a safe place for Katsu and for me. Can you understand that?”
“A safe place,” Vidya repeated softly. Her face softened. “Yes. I can understand.”
A moment of quiet fell over the room. Prasad’s stomach growled, and he became aware of the smell of honey bread still hanging on the air. They should eat. They could eat together as a family for the first time in seventeen years.
Was Sejal, his son, eating breakfast now?
“They are in pain,” Katsu spoke up.
“Who is?” Prasad asked absently.
“The children in the Nursery.”
“How do you know this, my daughter?” Vidya said. Her voice was calm and soothing. A mother’s voice.
“I dance with them in the Dream,” Katsu replied. “Then they don’t eat so much.”
“Eat?” Prasad said, his mind still on breakfast. Did Katsu mean the children wanted to eat with them?
“They don’t eat other people.”
Prasad snapped to full attention at this. The hackles rose on his neck. “Katsu, what do you mean?”
“The children hunger for the touch of minds denied them in the womb and in the Dream,” Katsu said. “They hurt and they are angry. I dance for them sometimes, and that calms them for a while, but they still hunger. And when they eat, they make many people despondent. Sometimes these people die.”
And with that she fell silent.
“You must explain more, daughter.” Vidya put her hand on Katsu’s shoulder. “You must tell us what you mean.”
But Katsu only rose and went into her room. The door shut softly behind her. Vidya watched her go with puzzled eyes.
“She is always like this,” Prasad ventured. “Sometimes I think she says so little because she expects the rest of us to follow her reasoning, even when we lack the intelligence.”
Vidya rose as well. “I think my husband needs to show me these other children.”
“I think,” Prasad said, pushing himself up from his chair, “my wife is correct.”
Dr. David Kri was murmuring to a computer pad in his hand before the clear barrier in the Nursery. He was in his early middle years, blocky and short, with pale hair, red cheeks, and narrow green eyes. Beside him stood Max Garinn studying the spiky lines crossing a readout monitor and twirling his blond mustache. In the Nursery itself, several of the dark-haired children twitched and convulsed. Their mouths opened and shut, as did their brown eyes. Saliva dribbled down several chins. Vidya stared, her face pale.
“My husband,” she whispered. “They look like you.”
Prasad opened his mouth to deny this, then swallowed the words. The time for denial was over. Vidya was correct, and he knew it, had always known it. Just because he had never looked up the records stating which children had received his DNA did not mean the knowledge was hidden. Vidya was forcing him to look, and now he would see.
Dr. Kri looked up from his pad. His eyes widened at Vidya. “What the hell?” he sputtered. “Prasad, what is she doing here? This is a restricted area!”
“Vidya must see everything before she decides whether or not to join the project,” Prasad replied calmly.
“And I will join,” Vidya put in. “I find this fascinating.”
Prasad stared. Vidya ignored this and turned to Max Garinn. “But first,” she said, pointing at him, “you must answer my questions.”
