'Mates like them to come in afterward. Males and females mature more quickly than ooloi. They like to feel that they have... how do you say? Helped their ooloi out of childhood.'
'Helped raise them,' Lilith said, 'or helped rear them.'
'... rear?''
'The word has multiple meanings.'
'Oh. There's no logic to such things.'
'There probably is, but you'd need an etymologist to explain it. Is there going to be trouble between you and your mates?'
'I don't know. I hope not. I'll go to them when I can. I've told them that.' It paused. 'Now I must tell you something.'
'What?'
'Ooan wanted me to act and say nothing... to... surprise you. I won't do that.'
'What!'
'I must make small changes-a few small changes. I must help you reach your memories as you need them.'
'What do you mean? What is it you want to change?'
'Very small things. In the end, there will be a tiny alteration in your brain chemistry.'
She touched her forehead in an unconsciously protective gesture. 'Brain chemistry?' she whispered.
'I would like to wait, do it when I'm mature. I could make it pleasurable for you then. It should be pleasurable. But ooan . . . I understand what it feels. It says I have to change you now.'
'I don't want to be changed!'
'You would sleep through it the way you did when Ooan Jdahya corrected your tumor.'
'Ooan Jdahya? Jdahya's ooloi parent did that? Not Kahguyaht?'
'Yes. It was done before my parents were mated.'
'Good.' No reason at all to be grateful to Kahguyaht.
'Lilith?' Nikanj laid a many-fingered hand-a sixteen-fingered hand-on her arm. 'It will be like this. A touch. Then a . . . a small puncture. That's all you'll feel. When you wake up the change will be made.'
'I don't want to be changed!'
There was a long silence. Finally it asked, 'Are you afraid?'
'I don't have a disease! Forgetting things is normal for most humans! I don't need anything done to my brain!'
'Would it be so bad to remember better? To remember the way Sharad did-the way I do?'
'What's frightening is the idea of being tampered with.' She drew a deep breath. 'Listen, no part of me is more definitive of who I am than my brain. I don't want-'
'Who you are won't be changed. I'm not old enough to make the experience pleasant for you, but I'm old enough to function as an ooloi in this way. If I were unfit, others would have noticed by now.'
'If everyone's so sure you're fit, why do you have to test yourself with me?'
It refused to answer, remained silent for several minutes. When it tried to pull her down beside it, she broke away and got up, paced around the room. Its head tentacles followed her with more than their usual lazy sweep. They kept sharply pointed at her and eventually she fled to the bathroom to end the staring.
There, she sat on the floor, arms folded, hands clutching her forearms.
What would happen now? Would Nikanj follow orders and surprise her sometime when she was asleep? Would it turn her over to Kahguyaht? Or would they both-please heaven-let her alone!
6
She had no idea how much time passed. She found herself thinking of Sam and Ayre, her husband and son, both taken from her before the Oankali, before the war, before she realized how easily her life-any human life-could be destroyed.
There had been a carnival-a cheap little vacant-lot carnival with rides and games and noise and scabby ponies. Sam had decided to take Ayre to see it while Lilith spent time with her pregnant sister. It had been an ordinary Saturday on a broad, dry street in bright sunshine. A young girl, just learning to drive, had rammed head-on into Sam's car. She had swerved to the wrong side of the road, had perhaps somehow lost control of the car she was driving. She'd had only a learner's permit and was not supposed to drive alone. She died for her mistake. Ayre died-was dead when the ambulance arrived, though paramedics tried to revive him.
Sam only half died.
He had head injuries-brain damage. It took him three months to finish what the accident had begun. Three months to die.
He was conscious some of the time-more or less-but he did not know anyone. His parents came from New York to be with him. They were Nigerians who had lived in the United States long enough for their son to be born and grow up there. Still, they had not been pleased at his marriage to Lilith. They had let Sam grow up as an American, but had sent him to visit their families in Lagos when they could. They had hoped he would marry a Yoruban girl. They had never seen their grandchild. Now they never would.
And Sam did not know them.
He was their only son, but he stared through them as he stared through Lilith, his eyes empty of recognition,
