Rollback

Trudeau had been twenty-four years younger than Don was now, but he’d been worn out, exhausted. Don, though, had lots of energy and more years ahead than he could really envision; those future years were also an abstraction, like the aliens around Sigma Draconis. Oh, one by one, the years would become concrete, but for now, they, too, didn’t quite seem real.

He made his way out of the field, moving from behind the vast dark form of the school, and continued his walk. Someone was coming toward him, and Don felt a little surge of adrenaline — an old man’s fear about how a late-night encounter might go. But, as the other person got closer, Don saw that it was a bald-headed middle-aged fellow, who looked quite apprehensive; to him, it was the sight of a twenty-something man that was frightening. Sarah was right; everything was relative.

She would do it in a heartbeat, he knew, if she could: she’d commit to help create, and raise, the Dracon children. And he also knew that he himself wouldn’t have all this extra time ahead if it weren’t for her. So maybe he owed this to his wife, and to McGavin, too, who, after all, had actually made it possible.

He continued along, and soon was approaching the convenience store. It was a 7-Eleven, one of countless such stores, all part of a vast chain. Don was old enough to remember when they really had been open only from 7:00 a.m. to 11:00 p.m., instead of twenty-four hours a day. Doubtless, if they had it to do over, the chain’s management would have picked a less-restrictive name. But if a giant company couldn’t have foreseen what the future held, or that the time they had to deal with would hugely expand, how could he? But, even so, they had changed; they’d adapted. And, he thought, as he went through the sliding glass doors, coming out of the darkness into the light, maybe he could, too.

Chapter 40

When Don got back home, Sarah was in the en suite bathroom, getting ready for bed. He joined her in there, coming up behind her as she stood at the sink, and oh-so-gently embracing her from behind.

"Hi," she said.

"All right," he replied. "I’ll do it."

"Do what?"

"Look after the Dracon children."

Don’s grip was loose enough that Sarah managed to gingerly rotate to face him.

"Really?"

"Why not?"

"You can’t do it just out of a sense of obligation, you know. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"How can I be sure about anything? I’m going to live to be maybe a hundred and sixty. That’s terra incognita for the whole human race. I know as much about what that’s going to be like as — as I know about what it’s like to be a bat. But I’ve got to do something, and, as your grandson said to me this evening, it should be something important."

"Percy said that?"

Don nodded, and Sarah made an impressed face.

"Still," she said, "you have to really want this. Every child has the right to be wanted."

"I know. And I do want to do it."

"Yeah?"

He smiled. "Sure. Besides, at least I won’t have to worry about these kids ending up with my nose."

Don suspected their neighbors couldn’t be surprised any further by the happenings at his house, but he wondered if any of them took note of the very-expensive-looking rental car pulling into the driveway. If they did, perhaps they zoomed in on Cody McGavin as he got out, and did a face-sca

Don opened the front door and watched through the screen as McGavin walked toward him, the mesh dividing him into pixels. "Hello, Don," McGavin said, in his Boston accent. "Great to see you."

"Hello," Don replied, swinging the screen door open. "Won’t you come in?" He took McGavin’s heavy winter coat and watched him remove his fancy shoes, then ushered him up the stairs to the living room.

Sarah was seated on the couch. Don saw a look flit over Mc-Gavin’s face, as if he were startled by how much she’d aged since he’d last seen her. "Hi, Sarah," he said.

"Hello, Mr. McGavin."

Gunter entered from the kitchen. "Ah," McGavin said, "I see you got the Mozo we sent over."

Sarah nodded. "We call him Gunter."

McGavin’s eyebrows went up. "After the robot on Lost in Space ?"

Don was startled. "That’s right."

"Gunter," said Sarah, her voice quavering as usual, "I’d like you to meet Cody McGavin. He runs the company that made you."

Don sat down next to Sarah and watched with interest: the creation meeting the creator. "Hello, Mr. McGavin," Gunter said, extending a blue mechanical hand. "It’s a true pleasure to meet you."

"And you," said McGavin, shaking the hand. "I hope you’ve been working hard at helping Dr. Halifax."

"He’s been a godsend," said Sarah. "Haven’t you, Gunter?"

"I’ve tried," the Mozo said to McGavin. "I was with her when she made the breakthrough. I’m very proud."

"That’s my boy!" said McGavin. He turned to the Halifaxes. "Wonderful machines, aren’t they?"

"Oh, yes," said Sarah. "Please, have a seat."

McGavin moved over to the La-Z-Boy. "Nice place you’ve got here," he said, as he settled in.

Don thought about that. McGavin was known for his philanthropy. Don had seen pictures of him visiting hovels in the third world, and it humbled him to think that this place was closer in cost to one of those than it was to McGavin’s famed mansion in Cambridge. The walls here had scuffs, the plaster was chipped, the carpet was worn and stained. The couch, with its hulking lines, had perhaps been stylish late in the last century, but looked hopelessly dated now, and its wine-colored upholstery was wearing thin in a lot of places.

"All right," Sarah said at last, echoing what McGavin had said to them all those months ago, "let’s talk turkey. As I said on the phone, I’ve succeeded in decrypting the Dracon message. Once I tell you what it says, I’m hoping you’ll agree with me that we should not make the reply public."

McGavin leaned forward, a hand on his receding chin. "I’m listening. What’s it say?"

"The aliens have sent us the Dracon genome—"

"Really?"

"Yes, and instructions on how to produce an artificial womb to bring a couple of Dracon children to term here on Earth, as well as plans for an incubator."

"Jesus," said McGavin softly.

"Wonderful, isn’t it?" said Sarah.

"It’s… amazing. Will they be able to live here?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Wow."

"But there’s a snag," said Sarah. "The aliens want me to be, essentially, the foster parent. But I’m too old."

"Well," McGavin began, "I’m sure an appropriate lab could be set up—"

"No," said Sarah, firmly. "No labs, no institutions. These are people, not specimens.

It’ll happen in a home. As I said, I can’t do it myself, but I do get to choose who does it in my place."

McGavin’s voice was gentle, and he looked sideways at Sarah as he spoke. "I’m not quite sure that’s your prerogative."

"Oh, yes it is. Because, you see, the message with the genome was addressed to me."

"You said that before. But I still don’t know what you mean."

"The decryption key. It’s… personal to me. And I’m not going to tell you what it is."

"It’s not your sequence of survey answers, or any subset of that sequence," said McGavin. "We already tried that. What else could the aliens possibly know about you?"

"With all due respect, I decline to answer."

McGavin drew his eyebrows together but said nothing.

"Now," continued Sarah, "as I say, I can’t personally do this. But I can pass on the genome to whomever I wish — by handing over the decryption key."

"I might be willing…" began McGavin.

"Actually," said Sarah, "I see you more in the rich-uncle role. Someone has to bankroll the building of the artificial womb, the synthesizing of the DNA, and so on."