Adam mumbled something I couldn’t catch, and Sal nodded again—reluctantly it seemed.
“Perhaps. I know only what I have been told, but it feels accurate.”
“What?” Eileen was definitely interested now.
“The adam commented ‘sounds too good to be true.’”
Adam’s eyes narrowed, and I hurried to get Sal’s attention. “Why do you call him that? It . . . well, it sounds kind of rude, to be honest.”
“I apologize?” He shrugged. “It is a very old habit, but I will try to correct it.”
“How can it be an old . . . ?” The words had barely left my lips before it occurred to me just how old his habit might be. And what, pray tell, does my name mean to you?
“I will get to that part.”
I blinked.
Coincidence, Lila. Focus!
“Should I continue?” He politely included Adam and Eileen in his question and waited for their attention. “Once we created Servants, our society experienced an unintended consequence.”
“Slavery,” Eileen muttered.
“No, young Eileen. Perhaps I should explain more thoroughly. Our society had included slaves, before we created Servants, but because everyone served their designated rotation period as a slave, it was still an equitable system. Slaves were treated well and respectfully because each member of society, from child to aged adult, spent every fifth year—our years, of course—as a slave. Knowing that you might end up serving the one you had accepted services from ensured that both slaves and masters were kind and compassionate.
“The system worked very well, but once we developed a unique lifeform that truly enjoyed serving, then the practice of slavery became obsolete. Of course, as I mentioned, there was an unintended consequence.
“Within a relatively short time, enough Servants had been created to fulfill all tasks, from farming to industry . . . even to providing surrogate parenting. Apparently, my race found themselves becoming obsolete, superfluous if you will, and faced a psychological crisis as they endeavored to discover a new purpose.”
I couldn’t help it. An acidic laugh burbled out, and I immediately held up a hand in apology.
“I’m sorry. But, really? I mean . . . skipping the whole slaves-bred-to-be-slaves problem—sorry, but it’s true—what about Art? Music? Scientific discovery? Life, the Universe, and everything?” He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “And parenting? Please tell me you didn’t palm off the raising of your own children to slaves!”
Sal’s gaze fell to his plate, and he frowned at the smears of leftover syrup long enough that I glanced at Adam and Eileen. Had I been that rude? They were watching him, so I cautiously touched his forearm. It was swelteringly hot.
“Sal, that was really rude and I’m—”
“No.” He placed his other hand across mine in a gesture of peace. “I have had more than twenty thousand of your years to ask those same questions. Do not apologize.” He didn’t seem inclined to move his hand, but mine was sweating now, so I slid it back to my lap.
“Wait.” Eileen slapped her palms on the table. “Twenty thousand? Dude! How old are you?”
“On my planet I would only be—”
“So this is an invasion then. Manifest destiny.” Adam’s assessment was terrifying in its quiet rage. His face was hard, calculating, and his hands . . . I’d never thought of a napkin as a weapon before.
Sal apparently hadn’t either, because he continued to speak calmly. “No, Adam. That is a unique term for your American cultural group, and has negative connotations, that while—”
“You better get to the point.” Eileen was looking worriedly at Adam’s hands, too.
Sal followed her line of sight and a grin spread across his face. “I wish that we were equals! It would be fascinating to do hand-to-hand combat with you!” He sounded genuinely cheerful, as if suggesting they throw a football around sometime; but Adam, understandably, was not amused.
“Ah, I know you’ve explained the whole genetic-superiority-thing, but us humans still don’t like being told we’re inferior. Kind of rubs us the wrong way.”
Immediately he was apologetic. “I truly meant to compliment the . . . to compliment Adam. I have never thought of you as inferior.”
There was something indefinably personal about the way he said “you” and I took a swig of juice just as there was another thump under the table.
“Why did you kick me, young one?” Sal’s wide-eyed look was all surprise and no pain, and Eileen gritted her teeth.
“My bad,” she grumbled.
Adam absentmindedly squeezed her shoulder. “If you didn’t have wars, why are you trained in combat?”
“As I was trying to explain, our intention was not to suppress or abuse other cultures simply because we were superior. However, stewardship is a weighty responsibility that not every species might appreciate, so my Givers selected traits that could facilitate an enforceable peace should the indigenous species be at an . . . ” his eyes flickered to each of us, “ . . . awkward stage of evolution. One that was unable to comprehend the value of our technology and teachings.”
Adam was clearly unhappy with his response, but I’d kind of gotten lost in the rhetoric.
“Givers?”
“You would call them parents.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but there was something in the way he said it . . .
“Are your mother and father here with you? You’d mentioned family?”
“We do not use your familial terms of endearment, although we do recognize our common ancestors and therefore acknowledge family structures. My Givers are . . . elsewhere.”
The way he kept saying giver was just so cold. Like it was a title, not an acknowledgment of the people who gave him life. The subject of procreation was kinda touchy to have around Eileen, though, and we were way off track with getting to negotiations for Cara.
“Okay, we need to—”
“Why don’t you love them?”
Adam’s eyebrows rose, but Sal didn’t seem to mind Eileen’s audacity.
“In our culture it is different. Some Givers love their offspring, but some merely select genetic traits that they find agreeable for companionship or useful for their own endeavors.”
“But why don’t you—”
“My Female Giver is the leader of our stewardship team. She wanted progeny who would be capable of enduring physical challenges, were immune to emotional complications, were intelligent enough to adapt to new and rapidly changing environments, and who would diligently support her efforts whatever she
