Read Online Lilith's Brood: Dawn, Adulthood Rites, and Imago (Xenogenesis Trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler - Free Book Online
Authors: Octavia E. Butler
Ads: Link
and from his rare waste products. It floats in a bath of nutrients and water. These and the light supply the rest of its needs.”
Lilith touched the plant, found it firm and cool. It yielded slightly under her fingers. Its surface was lightly coated with slime. She watched with amazement as her fingers sank more deeply into it and it began to engulf them. She was not frightened until she tried to pull away and discovered it would not let go—and pulling back hurt sharply.
“Wait,” Kahguyaht said. With a sensory arm, it touched the plant near her hand. At once, she felt the plant begin to let go. When she was able to raise her hand, she found it numb, but otherwise unharmed. Feeling returned to the hand slowly. The print of it was still clear on the surface of the plant when Kahguyaht first rubbed its own hands with its sensory arms, then opened the wall and pushed the plant back through it.
“Sharad is very small,” it said when the plant was gone. “The plant could have taken you in as well.”
She shuddered. “I was in one … wasn’t I?”
Kahguyaht ignored the question. But of course she had been in one of the plants—had spent most of the last two and a half centuries within what was basically a carnivorous plant. And the thing had taken good care of her, kept her young and well.
“How did you make them stop eating people?” she asked.
“We altered them genetically—changed some of their requirements, enabled them to respond to certain chemical stimuli from us.”
She looked at the ooloi. “It’s one thing to do that to a plant. It’s another to do it to intelligent, self-aware beings.”
“We do what we do, Lilith.”
“You could kill us. You could make mules of our children—sterile monsters.”
“No,” it said. “There was no life at all on your Earth when our ancestors left our original homeworld, and in all that time we’ve never done such a thing.”
“You wouldn’t tell me if you had,” she said bitterly.
It took her back through the crowded corridors to what she had come to think of as Jdahya’s apartment. There it turned her over to the child, Nikanj.
“It will answer your questions and take you through the walls when necessary,” Kahguyaht said. “It is half again your age and very knowledgeable about things other than humans. You will teach it about your people and it will teach you about the Oankali.”
Half again her age, three-quarters her size, and still growing. She wished it were not an ooloi child. She wished it were not a child at all. How could Kahguyaht first accuse her of wanting to poison children, then leave her in the care of its own child?
At least Nikanj did not look like an ooloi yet.
“You do speak English, don’t you?” she asked when Kahguyaht had opened a wall and left the room. The room was the one they had eaten in, empty now except for Lilith and the child. The leftover food and the dishes had been removed and she had not seen Jdahya or Tediin since her return.
“Yes,” the child said. “But … not much. You teach.”
Lilith sighed. Neither the child nor Tediin had said a word to her beyond greeting, though both had occasionally spoken in fast, choppy Oankali to Jdahya or Kahguyaht. She had wondered why. Now she knew.
“I’ll teach what I can,” she said.
“I teach. You teach.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Outside?”
“You want me to go outside with you?”
It seemed to think for a moment. “Yes,” it said finally.
“Why?”
The child opened its mouth, then closed it again, head tentacles writhing. Confusion? Vocabulary problem?
“It’s all right,” Lilith said. “We can go outside if you like.”
Its tentacles smoothed flat against its body briefly, then it took her hand and would have opened the wall and led her out but she stopped it.
“Can you show me how to make it open?” she asked.
The child hesitated, then took one of her hands and brushed it over the forest of its long head tentacles, leaving the hand
Lilith touched the plant, found it firm and cool. It yielded slightly under her fingers. Its surface was lightly coated with slime. She watched with amazement as her fingers sank more deeply into it and it began to engulf them. She was not frightened until she tried to pull away and discovered it would not let go—and pulling back hurt sharply.
“Wait,” Kahguyaht said. With a sensory arm, it touched the plant near her hand. At once, she felt the plant begin to let go. When she was able to raise her hand, she found it numb, but otherwise unharmed. Feeling returned to the hand slowly. The print of it was still clear on the surface of the plant when Kahguyaht first rubbed its own hands with its sensory arms, then opened the wall and pushed the plant back through it.
“Sharad is very small,” it said when the plant was gone. “The plant could have taken you in as well.”
She shuddered. “I was in one … wasn’t I?”
Kahguyaht ignored the question. But of course she had been in one of the plants—had spent most of the last two and a half centuries within what was basically a carnivorous plant. And the thing had taken good care of her, kept her young and well.
“How did you make them stop eating people?” she asked.
“We altered them genetically—changed some of their requirements, enabled them to respond to certain chemical stimuli from us.”
She looked at the ooloi. “It’s one thing to do that to a plant. It’s another to do it to intelligent, self-aware beings.”
“We do what we do, Lilith.”
“You could kill us. You could make mules of our children—sterile monsters.”
“No,” it said. “There was no life at all on your Earth when our ancestors left our original homeworld, and in all that time we’ve never done such a thing.”
“You wouldn’t tell me if you had,” she said bitterly.
It took her back through the crowded corridors to what she had come to think of as Jdahya’s apartment. There it turned her over to the child, Nikanj.
“It will answer your questions and take you through the walls when necessary,” Kahguyaht said. “It is half again your age and very knowledgeable about things other than humans. You will teach it about your people and it will teach you about the Oankali.”
Half again her age, three-quarters her size, and still growing. She wished it were not an ooloi child. She wished it were not a child at all. How could Kahguyaht first accuse her of wanting to poison children, then leave her in the care of its own child?
At least Nikanj did not look like an ooloi yet.
“You do speak English, don’t you?” she asked when Kahguyaht had opened a wall and left the room. The room was the one they had eaten in, empty now except for Lilith and the child. The leftover food and the dishes had been removed and she had not seen Jdahya or Tediin since her return.
“Yes,” the child said. “But … not much. You teach.”
Lilith sighed. Neither the child nor Tediin had said a word to her beyond greeting, though both had occasionally spoken in fast, choppy Oankali to Jdahya or Kahguyaht. She had wondered why. Now she knew.
“I’ll teach what I can,” she said.
“I teach. You teach.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Outside?”
“You want me to go outside with you?”
It seemed to think for a moment. “Yes,” it said finally.
“Why?”
The child opened its mouth, then closed it again, head tentacles writhing. Confusion? Vocabulary problem?
“It’s all right,” Lilith said. “We can go outside if you like.”
Its tentacles smoothed flat against its body briefly, then it took her hand and would have opened the wall and led her out but she stopped it.
“Can you show me how to make it open?” she asked.
The child hesitated, then took one of her hands and brushed it over the forest of its long head tentacles, leaving the hand
Similar Books
