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Walker, Sage - [SS] Hunting Mother [v1.0].htm

hunting mother

SAGEWALKER

That the old must give way tothe new is a truth that has been known since the dawn of the human race, but,as the evocative story that follows demonstrates, in spite of our awareness ofthat inevitability, its not always an easy or a comfortable transition .. .

SageWalker lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico. A graduate of ClarionWest, she has made sales to Asimovs Science Fiction, Not of Woman Born,Event Horizon, and elsewhere. Her first novel, Whiteout, was one ofthe most critically acclaimed debut novels of 1996, and she is at work onseveral others.

* * * *

R

unning here in the longcorridors had its joys but it was better Above. On the inner surface of thespinning world Cougar could race across wide stretches of open country.Distance could tire his legs and there were obstacles to leap over or dodgearound. He thought exercise and fatigue would make it easier to approach theold woman.

Thelights that woke at his motion were dim, timed for evening. The animals Abovewould be readying themselves for night.

Cougarloved motion. In the dim corridor, the flex of his toes and the slip of thetendons in his feet were smooth and silent against chill stone. Tensions andrelaxations of muscles in his calves and thighs, counterbalance offered bysmall ripples of the muscles in his back and shoulders, reflex arcs betweenneuron and neuron and muscle cell; the sensations blended and gave him joy. Hedelighted in the slight alarm, the constantly arrested falls, of walking.

Thecorridor where he walked circled the world. As he walked he was always at thecenter of a great curve. Before him and behind him the corridor rose until itseemed to narrow to a point and vanish. Just ahead was a lift that would takehim to the Above or down, out, into the thick rind of the ship, to the cave hismother had made of her quarters.

Cougarwanted to hunt. He wanted to run, but he was a dutiful son, he told himself.The hunt would wait. He would run as a reward after he had dealt with hismother.

Hestepped inside the lift and rode down.

* * * *

His mothers quarters were nearher labs; she lived close to her work. Cougar remembered waking in the night,small and alone. The slap of his feet had sounded so loud on the cold stonethat he knew some monster would come out of the dark corridor to eat him, buthed run to the lab anyway, run for mother. Mother, Elena, peered into thewatery depths of a womb machine. Its lights made the high ledges of hercheekbones and the dark hollows of her eyes seem strange and terrible. An embryofloated dead in the translucent cylinder, the thick pancake shape of itsplacenta loose from the womb wall and slowly spinning in bloody fluid.

Hey,boy. The alarms woke me so I came to find out what was happening, Elena said.She picked him up and held him close. Did you have a bad dream?

Cougarwasnt sure what a bad dream was, but he nodded and pushed his nose against thecomforting smell of his mothers shoulder. He heard gurgles and hisses as Elenadid something to the womb machine. He saw, above his mothers shoulder, frostcrystals forming on the wombs glassy windows. Something went wrong. Ill dothe tests on it tomorrow, Elena said.

Beneaththe frost he had seen tiny clawed fingers, wet fur swirling, the strange baldswellings of twinned labia between flexed legs. It was the first time he rememberedbeing afraid of his mother.

Fullyadult now, long past childhood terrors, Cougar pulled the scents of the labacross his nose and palate. He sensed albumin, wet down and eggshell. Hewondered which chicks had hatched.

Aheadin the corridor, he saw the old, old woman. She walked toward him, slender andnot stooped, still graceful although she moved with the deliberate caution ofthe aged. Cougar stood still and the lights around him faded.

Elena,it was Elena, stared ahead at the darkness. She looked helpless and blind.

Cougar?she asked. Is that you?

Inanswer, he stepped forward to wake the corridors lights. He knew, reading thetensions of the womans motionless body, that she thought to flee him but shehad forced herself not to run.

I wasgoing to look for you, Elena said. Come in.

Followingher, he entered home. Her home now, and fusty as human places tended to getafter so many years. These rooms had been his childhood and he hated them andloved them and had not been here for a long time.

Cougarread Elenas breath. It carried molecular traces of chicos, the roastedcorn she had stewed and eaten not two hours ago. She shed a trace of lactatefrom anoxic muscles and Cougar realized that even the walk into the corridormust have tired her. Elenas skin smelled of the cave; clean cedar boughsfreshly broken, bitter herbs, coffee, yeast. Her sweat was rich with the horseyreek of synthetic estrogens and an alarming trace of ammonia; renal failure wasbeginning. More urgent than any of these, the small sharp molecules of her fearrushed across his palate. The muscles of his face wanted to lift his lips awayfrom his teeth but he did not let them.

I didntknow you were out there until you moved. Youre always so quiet, Elena said.

Yes.

Hethought, Oh, tell her now! Admit you dont have the wisdom for this. Yes.Mother

Wouldyou have some tea? Elenas words tumbled out to block his unfinished plea. Shelifted her palm and brushed the air as if to brush his lips closed. Im havingsome. Sit down.

He saton the cushioned rugs by the fireplace. Cougar wondered why Elena offered asocial ritual. Greetings were usually momentary between them and then theyplunged headlong into whatever topic came to hand; they were seldom formal witheach other. He realized Elena sought delay and perhaps she also wanted tolengthen the time he would spend here. He felt a wash of guilt, knowing he hadoften found reasons not to visit her.

Elenabusied herself with mugs and tea. The labored motion of her damaged gait, atiny tremor in her hands, made certain tendons in Cougars forearms flex. Hedid not let his claws extend but they twitched once. He hoped she didnt see.

Howare the otters? she asked.

Thewoman and her son had business, the business of her death and their acceptanceof it, and she asked about otters. Cougar was angry but then he realized thatElena was as hesitant as he was, that she had gone out into the corridor tolook for him but hoped not to find him.

So hetold her about the otters, sleek and clever in the water, the shellfish theycaught and the stones they used to break them open. The otters were new, a testpair, and they harvested mussels and fish. They had been awake long enough tobreed. Fat otter pups played now in the bright water.

* * * *

If he didnt look quite so muchlike me, Elena thought, he would be the most beautiful man Ive ever seen. Mostof his beauty is in his musculature, his superb reflexes. I found I couldntgive him fur, or tufted ears. Skin and neural tissue arise from the sameembryonic layers; humans have a sort of fur. It should not have been a problemto thicken it but the embryos I tested with that modification were not closeenough to human to ever have learned speech. There is so much we still dontknow.

But,oh, the retractable claws are superb. Cougar uses them with a speed andprecision far beyond human. The hand modifies the brain and the parts of hisbrain mapped for those hands are marvelous to see.

Hes aspuzzled as I am by this death of mine, I think.

* * * *

Cougar took the mug of tea, aslightly smoky blend appropriate for autumn. He breathed its steam and blew onthe amber liquid to roughen its surface. The old woman sat down on her cushion.She pulled her legs up and tucked her feet together neatly.

In thefireplace, a twig snapped. The coals glowed yellow-red and then dulled to redagain. The night was like any other and his mother was as familiar as hisbreath, but she was going to die and he wasnt sure how to help her, or what tosay.

Iremember Elena began.

Areyou beginning a death song? Cougar asked.

Ithought I might.

Damnit, dont! This matter is not decided. Its not as simple as I think you wouldlike, certainly not as simple as a point on a graph where all parameters arepredictable. I am not a disinterested bystander. You are my mother.

No, itsnot simple, Elena said.

I havedoubts about becoming an executioner. Every human culture has always said, Thoushalt not kill. There are good reasons for such a prohibition.

Every humanculture has said, Dont kill within the tribe. As the ages went by weextended the boundaries of the tribe and now we are all one tribe, Elena said.So we say. Are you human?

Am I?Possible angry answers clashed in Cougars throat. He coughed to stifle them. Myfather is a mountain lion. You are my mother. There were other chimeras in theship but Cougar did not know and his mother could not know what she had madewhen she made them. Otter and Bear and Owlchild and the others, all were tools,prototypes, test models on which improvements might be based.

Cougartightened his grip on the mug of tea, letting the steel blades hed fitted tohis claws snap against the porcelain. He was skilled, very skilled, withscalpels or larger knives, but his claws were more skillful at some tasks, moresensitive than any knife.

Akinetic memory surfaced, a bench in a corridor alcove and he so small it seemedhuge, his delight when he found he was big enough to climb up to where Elenawaited. But hed slipped and caught at the smooth skin of her forearm. Drops ofblood from his claws appeared one by one on her white skin, ruby darkpomegranate seeds. The salt taste of her blood as he licked the drops away oneby one, the cautious, puzzled look on Elenas face. Her face had looked old tohim then but now he knew it had been young.

Webred you, Elena said. We knew you would never know Earth. We knew you wouldhave only this tiny worldlet and the promise of unknown futures. If anyonesurvives on the world the ship will reach, they will survive because theydesign themselves to do so. You are among the first of the designed. I wonderhow much you hate us.

Elenaswallowed, slip of trachea under wrinkled skin. Her carotid throbbed under thethinned skin at the curve of her jaw.

Youhad a choice whether to go or stay. None of us have that choice. I hate you forthat, perhaps, but also I love you. My studies tell me all children hate theirparents and love them, Cougar said.

Icertainly did. Elena pressed her hands together and then opened them as ifthey were a book.

* * * *

My own mother read a book inher hands sometimes, Elena remembered. Of course I hated my mother, and lovedher. Of course I hated what my mother asked of me. Of course I learned to lovewhat she longed for.

Wewalked sometimes on the mesa at night and we could see this ship where I livenow as a point of light in the sky, a captured asteroid brought into smoothorbit to be altered for our use. It was impossibly far away but I imagined Icould hear the explosions and the drills, the violent midwifery the artificerspracticed as they exploded a solid chunk of rock into a hollow home.

Myparents were insane. Their insanity was grandiose and desperate and I love themfor it. In this honeycombed spinning rock they cached all they could; cellsamples and embryos of creatures and plants whose codes are known and some thatare yet unmapped, inert salts of every biologically useful trace element thatmight someday be needed, libraries of wisdom and foolishness; anything theythought might ever be useful.

We knowtheres a planet where were going. It has some of the things we need to live;we know that much. But we dont know everything. When we reach our faraway newworld, we will not have time to terraform it, certainly not completely.Therefore, we will change ourselves to survive there. Well change the world wefind; humans always do.

Or welldie encysted here in this rock, backing down the scales of complexity,degrading over time until only bacteria are left of us, and then

I hopefor a different outcome, a successful one. Im as mad as my mother was.

* * * *

You saw the diagnostics,Elena said. I am going to die and there is no treatment strategy that willchange that fact. I am suffering.

You donot appear to be suffering.

Isuffer wondering if you will suffer when my physical and mental decline becomesmore apparent. We cant know I will die with my brain intact. I may becomemindless. I have seen the eyes of humans whose bodies have outlived theirminds. She had seen rows and rows of warehoused ancients waiting, waiting. Evento my last breath, my body will not want to die.

I haveseen such in my studies, Cougar said.

I haveseen such with my own eyes, Elena said. In the best of our human and socialwisdom, we didnt know what to do.

Butyou want me to know whats best and do it, Cougar said.

I wantyou to be wiser than I am. She stared into the dying fire and whatevercorridors of the past she looked down were far away and long ago.

Thereis no reason to settle this tonight, Elena said.

Cougarleft her there.

* * * *

Cougar paced, back two steps,forward two steps, in the cage of the lift. Through its walls he heard therumbles of the factories, sighs of winds as the worldlet breathed, ordinary,soothing sounds. The lift took him Above. He stripped to a pair of trunks andleft his clothes at the gate. The cool air of Aboves night chilled his skin ina pleasant way.

Hewalked to loosen the tightness in his shoulders and neck and then he found aloping stride, a tireless ground-covering pace. He ran past fenced grain fieldsand bare-limbed orchards (the scent of windfall apples sharp and fermenting).Past the waternoise of a stream made to fall over rocks (waving waterweeds,healthy fingerlings in the shallows, milk-scent of a snoozing otter cub).

He ranwithin the real physical boundaries of a damned small ecosphere and he workedas he ran. In his pleasant exertion he measured the health and the delicatebalances of the enclosed fields and wildernesses (no more wild than any zoo,but larger than most) that slumbered through an artificial night. The consequencesof ignoring imbalances in life and growth here were likely to be deadly.

Cougaropened his mouth to the night wind and scented Owlchild, waiting on a bluffabove the mouth of the stream. Stalking her, Cougar came across the whitetaildoe and her twin fawns, both male, grazing a night meadow. Cougar marked in hismind their differences, one larger and plumper, the other more agile.

He leftthe deer and went to Owlchild. They talked of the fawns and of sundry things,but not of Elena, although Owlchild knew the old woman faced death, and soon.For a murmuring time, Cougar hid his past and future in the immediacy ofOwlchilds now, in the present wonder of her silky skin and secret heats.

Later,lying on his back and staring up at the shuttered ball of the moon (no truemoon, only the sun with its energies diverted to engines and factories for thenight), Owlchilds hands on his arms felt like fetters. He pushed them away.

What?Owlchild whispered.

I willmiss Elena, Cougar said.

Sowill I.

Cougarlet the night drift around him. He did not want to talk to Owlchild, not for amoment. Here in this little pocket world, as in all places and all times, heknew the social bonds that defined his behaviors to be as critical, aspotentially deadly, as stringent as any in history.

Cougarkneaded his cupped hands, one and then the other, against Owlchilds belly. Shelaughed and turned away. Her shoulders were handy to his claws then, so hescratched her back, oh, so gently, until she giggled.

* * * *

Cougar came to Elenas caveagain at dusk. Hunting her, he had watched her work, scanned her now and againthrough the day. This day had been as busy as any other of her days. Elenashands were still skilled and dexterous, certain and precise with the smallinstruments in her lab. The decisions she made, the trail of notes across herstudy screens, were as clear and thoughtful as they had ever been.

Welcome,Elena said. Im glad youre here.

She hadlighted a fire tonight, three small cedar logs standing in a tripod so thattheir tops burned each other. The scent of them was rich in the air.

Cougarsat on the piled rugs near the hearth. He pulled a backrest closer and settledagainst it. It was warmed by the fire and its heat felt good to his back, thecushion cooling and his skin warming until they reached blissful agreement.

Hewaited with a hunters patience. Be wiser than I am, she had said. He wouldtry.

You couldsimply hand me a medicine and I could take it and never wake up, Elena said.

I havesuch a medicine in my pocket. Do you want it? Cougar asked.

I haveit. Elena reached into the sack she carried at her waist and brought out atiny packet. I thought I would know when I was ready to take it. Perhaps Iwill. I dont know. Without looking at it, she slipped it into her sack again.

Cougarwaited.

Imight take the medicine some night. Or I could think, every day, well, nottoday. Until I cant think at all. What will you do?

Damnyou. I monitor populations on this ship and cull them, young or old, hurt orsound, when they must be culled. I have always known that someday I would becalled on when a human was dying. I did dot know it would be so soon.

Wehave spent years and many words on this, Elena said.

Wehave. I think you do not plan to suicide. I think you are truly determined tobe as infuriating as you have always been.

Elenacould kill herself, even announce that she intended to do so, and no one on theship would try to stop her now. Elena could wait until she was mindless, unableto find food for herself, incontinent. No one who knew her would refuse theirturn at caring for her.

Yearsand words and histories, Elena said.

Shallwe discuss Hitler again, Mother? Shall we find scientific reasons to put youdown, as he found scientific reasons for genocide? Shall we review the theologicalpositions on the sanctity of life? Shall we discuss the legitimate uses ofpower and authority or how to make power responsible for its actions? Shall Iconvene a committee and assign the decision to a group?

Youhave done so. Today. The timing and manner of my death is in your hands. Icould take this burden from you, and I may, but still the question remains foryou: What will you do if I will not or cannot? Must the ill, in their distress,be responsible, always, for the time and place of their deaths? Cougar, myillness was not planned to set up a test for you; I swear it.

But ithad done so.

Oneanswer, sanctioned by many human societies over many thousands of years do notinterfere. Do not raise your hand; let Elenas biology decide the when and how.Such was human wisdom, but Elena had asked, Are you human? She hadasked, Is the human way the best way? Elena offered challenge. She oftendid. It was her way.

It maybe true that in some societies, old women said good-bye and went out into thesnow when they knew they wouldnt survive the winter. We dont hear about theones who wouldnt take themselves away. Wouldnt get on the ice floe, wouldnttake their blanket and sleep in the cold. Elena seemed to look down corridorsof the past. And thats the question, isnt it?

Listen,watch, Cougar told himself. Watch her and read what she wants. The skill setshumans knew, he knew. He was expert in clinical medicine and in the haltingscience of psychiatry, unchallenged in his grasp of the cautious disciplinesrequired by the ships ecologies. His life was rich, his experiences as intricateas any humans had ever been and more so. He knew the ass-tired concentrationof lecture halls, the camaraderie of think tanks at mountain retreats in thehigh desert where his mother had lived before the ship enclosed her. The shipsmachines could and had given him kinetic memories of an owls flight, a troutsleap. His muscles and bones knew his fathers walk; his eyes remembered theblack moonlight shine of fur on a January night, the clarity of winter desertair in landscapes more vast than even an eagles eye could conquer.

Elenadropped her eyes and smiled. For an instant Cougar thought he saw a young,young woman, flirting with memories. For a little while, let me pretend to besocial. Thank you for coming to visit me, how are things, and so forth.

Howare things? The ship remains viable as far as we know. His words were simple;a terse report distilled from measurements of bacteria in lake waters, CO2concentrations from many monitoring stations in the ship, the number ofseeds in the stomach of the dead titmouse the pair of hawks had missed, thedebate that had surfaced once again about loosing field mice in the Above.Although the barriers that kept critters from the lifts and stairways weregood, mice were by all accounts skilled at invasions. We dont need twowhitetail bucks and we have them. The kitchens will have some venison soon.

Hewould save some cells from the kill, of course, but the venison would be atreat. Cougar licked his lips in anticipation.

Thefire glowed red and clicked and murmured, as hypnotic as fires had been tomothers and sons since fire was first tamed. Mothers and sons, old women andcats, what the hell? The fire comforted both.

He washere to listen, to observe and measure his mothers needs and his own, butElena sat quiet.

Cougarlet his eyelids close by half. The better to listen, my dear. Nature ornurture? Genetic inevitability or learned behaviors? Both operated in Cougar.He knew it and Elena knew it. Cougar had no apparatus for purring but he likedthe sound when he first heard it and soon he learned to make it in his humanthroat. Did he do it because he wanted to be more like his never-known fatheror because purring felt particularly good to someone designed with felinegenes?

Herelaxed all his balanced tensions into an appearance of sudden sleep. He could,usually, almost always, calm Elena with so simple a communication and he did sonow, oddly pleased at how quickly she entrained to his apparent comfort. Inseconds, he scented a few endorphins on her breath.

Wehave been cruel, Elena said. All of us who made you have been cruel andcareless, binding you to a destination that is so uncertain. But no mother hasever known if she brought her child into a safe world. Its something we cant know.

I dontfeel like crying. I dont fear death, or I have told myself I dont. I think ofdeath as a molecular dissolution so complete that any possibility of ongoingconsciousness seems ridiculous. The idea of immortality appalls me. If othersfind it comforting, if you do, well, good. But its not something I want toconsider for myself.

Cougarheard her. Truly, he did sleep, and truly he did hear her. He had tried toexplain it to Elena but his mother didnt seem to have such sleep.

Elenakept her voice steady and continued to speak, for if she stopped he wouldrouse. I am not a wise woman, Elena said. Surely you dont think it waswisdom or even pure knowledge that sent us out into the dark. We were driven bymyth as much as by reason. We wanted to tell stories to the universe, or atleast make sure our stories would be heard on another world.

Cougardid not open his eyes but he heard the soft sounds Elena made as she folded herarms and lifted her head in a storytellers posture.

I havesaid we picked otter genes to explore mammalian aquatic skills, ursine to seeif we could uncover hibernation patterns and adapt them; all of the mothershave stories about why they chose different totem animals for their children. Ihave said I made you mountain lion because of the solitary nature of mountainlions. An African lion needs a pride and you would, because of the scant needfor large predators in our pocket world, be the only large predator. Ofnecessity, alone.

What acrock. Cougar let his voice rumble, basso, disdainful.

Yes.Your modification is a simple one, one I thought I could do; that was part ofit.

Youare what you are. Your mountain lion DNA led you to become the predator thatour pocket ecology requires, or you simply became lionesque to please me andyour own sense of whimsy. I dont know. In any case, youre successful. Themethods used to modify you are tested now. The knowledge is available; whenyour children reach destination they will know how to fine-tune an embryo andgive her wings, if need be, or design true sea-dwellers if they find that theseas offer the best chance to thrive.

Youknow I find such possibilities wonderful. Youve seen and walked through mylife or you might someday if you want to; we kept recordings of so much.

* * * *

In the days of selecting andsorting, strong cases were made for carrying even mosquito eggs and malarialparasites. The codes for building them came aboard but not the organismsthemselves.

Elenawatched the fire and her son. If he followed his usual pattern, he would sleepfor a brief time. He rested profoundly when he rested and he woke renewed, asthe young do. As I once did.

Wefilled the ship with seeds beyond counting, with the patterns of moths wingsand mosses. Someone remembered that if there is a God, he is extraordinarily fondof beetles, and we have many beetles. The life span of a seed even in frozennitrogen is limited and though we hope to reach harbor before decay sets in, wegrow some seeds, birth some animals, to keep the stocks renewed and fresh.

Elenasthoughts skimmed over lists and over years. Lovers and quarrels, embryos testedand lost or grown to beauty. Her life had been a series of questions and alwaysthere were more questions than answers.

She hadworked in the lab today. The hatched chicks were chickadees, and soon theywould be sent Above to pick their way through winter. In the spring, therewould be space for a few meadowlarks. In memory she heard their liquid songagain, as fresh and pure as a high meadow morning.

Thishad been a good day. She had slept well, worked hard, eaten chicos andjoined her son by a fireside, as if today were any other day. As it was, Elenathought, another day gone while the ship traverses the big dark, going fromsomewhere to somewhere.

* * * *

Cougar dreamed of making love,of Ottersdaughter smooth and sleek beneath him. A chorus sang a single word, thanatos,thanatos, pure voices in counterpoint echoing in the magnificent acousticsof a long-vanished cathedral. The colors of stained glass streamed from thelight of the fire; chapel walls tumbled into piles of old stone; the fire died.

Cougarwoke and rolled over and stared into his mothers eyes, favoring her with apure predators gaze. He liked watching her shiver.

Was ita good sleep? Elena asked.

Oh, itwas. Cougar stretched and stretched again, and purred a growling purr for hismother to hear. Elena laughed at him. He told her good night and left.

* * * *

Later, he saw her on a bluff inthe Above, Elena wrapped in her old woolen poncho with the red and blackstripes. She came to review the world, perhaps. Cougar worked his way close toher. The old woman sat there for a long time, watching the meadows and theforests. He sensed no distress in her, not that night or the next or the next.But she always came Above.

* * * *

When, how, if. The diagnosticsheld steady. Elena was not sicker; she had not begun to fail. On a few nights shetook a drug to soothe her old and aching joints and on those nights she walkedfar, quiet and seemingly content. Did she bring herself to the hunting groundsso that he would kill her? Did she mean for him to strike suddenly, as hepreferred to do, kill so swiftly that not even a single molecule of cellularterror tainted the breath of his intended victim? Or did Elena simply want towalk easily in the Above? Cougar knew he should ask her but he did not ask, andthen he chided himself for a lack of courage.

Elenacontinued her work. Cougar found reason to come to the labs now and again, andthey talked of many things. Elena did not mention her illness. Cougar waitedfor her to signal what she wanted but she did not do so.

* * * *

It was time to harvest thedeer. Cougar went Above on a night when the temperatures hovered near frost,into air seasoned with the aroma of ripe nuts and the particular scent offallen grain on damp soil. Elena had not come Above. He could find no trace ofher in the night and he was happy enough that she was not here.

TheAbove was a temperate zone now. In another decade it would be arctic, and afterthat the plan was to make it tropical for a generation or two. His mothershigh desert was best for the testing of marginal, though hardy, species but adesert was not scheduled during his or his mothers lifetime. The desert wasimportant, though, an environment for testing extremes.

On thewind Cougar found Ottersdaughters signature, two hours old but maybe she wasout here somewhere. A badger grumbled along in the brush beside the trail.Owlchild was out tonight, but she was far away. Where, where were the deer? Hefound them grazing on crested wheat near a stand of Scotch pines.

Insummer, columbines bloomed near this path. Chanterelles grew deep in nearbypine needle mulch, boletes for the taste of them. Cougar remembered the quiet tockof a flickers beak on the trunk of a lodgepole pirys, a day spent huntingmushrooms here with Elena and Owlchild.

Owlchildwas a year older than he was. They had quarreled incessantly until the nightshe led him through the thickets and down onto the grass by the stream, into asham battle that began with wrestling, changed to caresses, ended in theremarkable delight and terrifying pleasure of his first sex with a woman. Orended for a short time, rather, and then began again. Owlchild was lusty thenand she still was. Later, later tonight he would find her.

Howwill she react if I come to her some night with my mothers blood on my hands?Will she turn away from me, and whisper to the others that I cannot be trusted,that I kill at the wrong times, for the wrong reasons?

Wemust, we will, find our singular rituals for times of guilt and sorrow. Suchrituals are necessary, vital. Our skills with each other are criticallyimportant for our ongoing survival, as necessary as water.

* * * *

As she did every time she cameAbove, Elena wished she had enough discipline to find spaces in her busy daysand come here more often. True, summer here was warmer than she cared for buttonight the sphere was cold enough. Her poncho held warm air close to her bellyand shoulders. She tucked a fold up over one arm to feel the cold pricklesagainst her shoulder.

Thelands inside the sphere were wonderful. Elena loved them for the richness oftheir lush growth but this was woodland, cropland, not her desert. The deserthad been rich, too, rich in vastness and light.

Theotter pups would be sleeping but the stream was pleasant to hear. Elena walkedthere and saw Cougar. Perhaps the noise and moisture masked her presence; hedidnt seem to notice she was there.

He wasgoing to find the deer; perhaps he had scented them. Elena wondered how theirscent felt to him. She wondered how his different perceptions impactedhis sense of self. She wondered how different his world was from her own.

Elenastopped, guarding the sound of her breath, for Cougar had stopped in the blackshade of the trees. He would test the air, he always did, before he would beready to walk out in the clearing that bordered the stream. Elena marveled athis caution. He was the most lethal thing in the ecosphere. Most of the animalsdidnt run from humans; the creatures here were often hand-raised and wouldcome out to play, expecting, and often getting, treats.

Elenastayed in the dark, on the path behind her son.

Ishould tell Cougar to see if some raspberries can be transplanted here, Elenathought. Like weeds, they like the edges of paths and roads.

* * * *

Cougar stretched out on a rockbeside the stream. He sniffed out the otter pups, burrowed against their mothersteats and sleeping.

Cougarreached into his sampling pouch and set a container on the rock beside him. Helay flat on his belly and let his hand drift into the icy water. His eyes wereclose to the waters edge and he watched until a cluster of trout fingerlingscame near, silver glimmers in the false moonlight but there was light enough.He was cautious; he was always careful to make clean kills. This one. His palmdrifted beneath it. Just above the gills the tiny spinal cord ran caudal andclose to the skin. Flick. His claw sliced through the resistant flesh and thecord but he stopped the cut before he reached the dorsal skin. He lifted thefish into his palm and shook it into the container.

* * * *

The drug she had taken madewalking a joy. Elena followed her son but at a distance, so that she could losehim in shadow and then catch sight of him again. She saw Ottersdaughter slipthrough the trees and ahead, circling back to meet Cougar at the edge of themeadow that opened out below a bluff. Ottersdaughter was a tease at times, butshe teased with gentle humor. And if Elena could not hear, was not meant tohear, the words they shared, still she knew them. The beauty of entwined arms,of warm flat bellies pressed together and as quickly parted; the language ofanticipation and promise never changed.

Ottersdaughterleft Cougar. In one instant she was beside him and in the next she was gone.

Cougarlifted his head in that grin of his. Elena sensed his growing excitement.Perhaps Ottersdaughter would hunt with him, the two of them working the deeruntil the one Cougar chose was isolated and ready for him.

Elenawould do her best not to interfere. She had loved to hunt herself, still did,remembered teaching Cougar what she could.

Cougardisappeared into the trees. The meadow lay silent. Elena heard her pulse singin her ears. She felt the strength of her muscles, rejoiced in the clarity ofher night vision that could still pick out a great horned owl sweeping acrossthe meadow. The owl dived and rose again with a squirming vole in her claws. Inthe wonder of the living night, she was well pleased with her world.

Cathedralchoirs and string quartets, fictions and poetries, we have them. Politicaltheories and histories of poverty and bloodshed, weve brought those with us,too. The fear, the prediction, has always been that generation ships must deteriorateinto savagery. The fear is that the journey itself will be forgotten and thereality of the ship will be the only reality.

It mayhappen. It may not.

Imdying and I know it but I cant feel the reality of it. I may turn away, leavethe night and the hunt and go back to my comforting little cave, leave thefuture to the future and take my lethal medicine. Even tonight. Even right now.

But Imso alive. I have so many more questions than answers and this meadow isbeautiful. How can I encompass all futures and all pasts? How can I stop tryingto do so?

Iwonder what I will do. I wonder what my son will do.

Look athim. Look, he stalks young deer and the hunt will be slow.

Amemory came to sit beside her. Elena welcomed it.

* * * *

I went out in the high desertand I camped in a high mountain meadow. When I woke, I woke in moonlight. Thewestern mesa seemed a sheet of beaten silver, and near me the shadows weresolid black under the pines. I knew I had heard a doe cropping grass in themeadow but she was gone now. I knew I had heard her run, and her fawn besideher.

Wehumans think we dont smell much, but I smelled that cougar, fur and breath. Wethink we dont hear well, but I heard him huff in frustration when the doe ran.We think we dont have much position sense, but I knew where he was, just aboveon the ledge and me beneath. Hed crept down from a high resting place in apine, so slow, and made one soft jump to land above my shelter. Thats whenthe doe spooked. I could sense the cougar deciding whether to track her and thefawn; I could feel him deciding how. I felt how his muscles tensed. His fur waslighter and softer on his belly than on his back; I got a damned good look atevery hair on it as he leaped down an arms length from my face. Cougar, puma,mountain lion, he had many names but all of them meant beauty.

He wastarnished silver in the moonlight and lean and glossy, so beautiful and sostill, and he waited, and waited. I had to breathe sooner or later. The cougarheard me and turned his head to look me over where I hid in my shadow. I havenever felt so completely evaluated in my life before or since. He dismissed me,placed me on hold, to wait for his interest if he couldnt bring down thatfawn.

Thedeer werent making any noise at all but the cougar knew and I knew they hadntrun far.

* * * *

In the chill of the real andpresent meadow, Cougar stalked the twin fawns.

Allquiet. The doe ripped the high grasses with her teeth and Cougar heard thetexture of the grass in the way it tore free, knew the texture of the doesstrong tongue moving back and forth in her wet mouth. At the edge of themeadow, a lump was an unexpected boulder, no, was Elena, hidden under the foldsof her old red and black poncho. Surely she would stay still.

Cougarstalked his deer. His supple foot found a quiet place to rest between the talland brittle blades of grass. He saw, so clear in his hunt-sharpened vision,growth-faded spots on the yearlings hides. Above him a spotted owl roused andcircled the clearing, fleeing on her silent wings, and Ottersdaughter, cautiousas a deer herself, hid in the tall meadow grass, ready to spook the deer backtoward Cougar if .they turned in her direction.

Thefawns were identical twins. Cougar wanted the fatter one. Cougar eased his waybetween the selected twin and its brother and turning the little buck aside.Still the doe remained unaware of him.

Cougarangled toward the trees, herding the fawn. Damn. It looked like the fawn wouldget into the brush. Cougar didnt want to run it down. He hated botched huntsand meat made bitter by terror and exhaustion. He moved closer.

So big,the deers brown eye. Cautious, wary, little deer. Lets move that way, overthere, its where you want to go. You dont know Im here. Do not become awareof me.

Thedeer took two steps, three, in the direction Cougar wanted.

* * * *

I watch the silent meadow, thedappled fawn, my son who is invisible to the deer and almost invisible to me.

The doeand the other fawn are in the trees now. I hear the doe, her hoofbeats muffledon fallen pine needles. The fawns steps behind her are noisier than hers andhe takes four steps to her three. I wonder when the doe will notice she hasonly one of her children beside her.

I wasso young when I first saw Cougars father hunt and my blanket was syntheticsilver, not this wool I hold now. But the cougar turned the deer toward me,that wild young cougar. And when he had killed, he called out into the wildnight, horny young fool that he was. The big female who came to answer him kepthim from the meat until she was filled, but then she let him mount her.

Andwhile he was mounted, I found the courage to get my sampling dart out of mypocket and harpoon up a few cells of him. I doubt he even felt the sting.

Therewas no deliberation or wisdom in choosing a cougar to sample. No, Cougarstotem came from accident, opportunity, chance. And youth. I was very young. Notall choices need to be deliberate. I made mine.

* * * *

Cougar got ahead of the deer.He circled through the trees and came up behind Elena. Quiet, quiet.Ottersdaughter made a stand of grass ripple once and the deer moved away fromit, stepped closer and closer to Cougar and his mother. Still calm. Cougarwaited.

* * * *

So close. Elena could havetouched the buds of antlers, brushed her fingers against individual hairs onthe bucks shoulder, black or tawny or white. She felt wrapped in stillness, asalive as it is possible to be, forever in the moment, the overwhelming joy ofnow.

* * * *

Cougar stood behind his mother,so close that her warmth rose from her poncho and caressed his cheek. This isthe best of my mothers nights, Cougar knew. There cannot be another night morewonderful than this, a future where she is more complete. I dont know all herpast but I know its rich in her and I know she holds it all tonight and willnever know it so well again.

Sweatscent, pine sap, crushed meadow grass, Elena is warm with happiness and herblood is singing. But there will be other nights, many of them, that will bealmost as complete. What will I do?

Out inthe meadow, Ottersdaughter stood suddenly, not a human form in this light butsimply unexpected, tall, something to run away from. The fawn startled andleaped forward, still unaware of Cougar and his mother. Elena raised her arm;perhaps she meant to guard her face.

Thedeer reached the limit of its leaping arc and began to descend. Cougar caughthis mothers arm and held it. The fawns chest crashed into the barrier oflinked arms. As the striped woolen folds of the blanket settled, the old womansthroat and the fawns bulging neck were only centimeters apart, both of theirlives vulnerable and within certain reach.

Withthe photographic clarity of his hunters vision, Cougar watched moonlightsilver the razored edges of his claws as they slashed down.

* * * *