“I should take her and show them,” Reuel said, studying the infant a little doubtfully.
Dalia gave him a look. “Don’t even think about it. The computer said she was only 90% matured. They can see her when she’s a little older.”
“Yeah,” Pierce added. “Hopefully, she’ll look better, too.... What?” he added when Reuel and Dalia both gave him an indignant glare.
Chapter Nineteen
Dalia was overwhelmed when they left the med center two days later. Hundreds of cyborgs, both male and female, lined the walks on either side of the street, trying to get a glimpse of the infant, cheering almost hysterically each time she lifted it up for them to see it.
Reuel, despite his suggestion of taking it out to show the day it was born, wasn’t terribly anxious to hold it. He seemed perfectly content to stare at her for hours, but every time she handed the infant to him, he went rigid, hardly daring even to breathe. That was usually followed by a sickly, greenish pallor to his skin and a cold sweat.
Pierce didn’t do much better. As long as he wasn’t holding the infant, he was completely nonchalant about the care of it, and eager to impart the wisdom of infant care that he ‘remembered’ from his childhood programming. The moment she suggested he hold it, however, he thought of something else he had to do and disappeared.
She couldn’t say that she blamed them. She was terrified of it herself. She hadn’t expected it to be so tiny, or look so fragile and helpless. It couldn’t even feed itself, let alone look for its own food. And it almost seemed as if, when she did feed it the liquid diet the med techs assured her were all the sustenance it needed right now, the food poured right through it and out the other end. It was constantly soiling itself, which was another reason neither Reuel nor Pierce wanted to hold it.
She hadn’t wanted to voice her fears aloud, but she couldn’t help but worry that something was very wrong.
The new residents of the cyborg world had been assigned to the homes of those who’d come before them until they decided to stay and build their own abode or leave. And Dalia discovered that she was to make her home with Reuel, which didn’t surprise her. What did was that Reuel had arranged to take Pierce, as well, until it occurred to her that Pierce was one of the minute few who had any prior knowledge of infants.
Reuel’s abode, or ‘home’ as he referred to it, was what he called a ‘plantation’ about a mile beyond the outer rim of the city of Gallen. He grew food, but also plants that were used to make other things.
She’d been surprised to learn of it, until it occurred to her that they would have to have something like it to provide a continuous supply of food. It had taken them three months to get to Mordal. Even if it hadn’t been dangerous to regularly travel between the planet and others for supplies, it wasn’t practical.
Then, too, Mordal had no monetary system like the known universe. The cyborgs traded for what they wanted. The fact that Reuel grew food and everyone needed food meant that Reuel was one of the wealthiest cyborgs on the planet, particularly since he also seemed to understand the techniques of growing better than anyone else and produced far more than any of the other planters.
His abode was startling even after all of the other buildings Dalia had seen since she’d arrived. For one thing, it was an enormous structure of many rooms. On Earth, one was fortunate even to have sole possession and use of one large room. Reuel’s house had ten rooms of staggering proportions. Even the rooms for bathing were larger than the quarters she’d had. Most of the storage compartments were larger than her quarters.
He was obviously fond of what he referred to as porches, which were, basically, rooms on the outside of the building that had a floor and ceiling, but no walls or windows beyond those that made up the outer wall of the house--and columns. A porch ran the width of the building on the front and was lined with tall columns that supported the outer edge of the roof. These columns were not smooth like those at the flight terminal, however. They had regular, concave gouges running vertically around their circumference, which Reuel referred to as fluting. The decorative tops of the columns were also more elaborately carved.
It had windows everywhere, most of them tall enough they could’ve been doors if they’d been set nearer the floor. The doors were big enough for giants.
Staring at the enormous white structure as they neared it, Dalia felt her stomach go weightless. She wasn’t certain whether it was the beauty of the building itself that inspired such awe, or if that was only part of it, but she was aware of equal parts of admiration and gut wrenching fear--of so much space and of occupying it with Reuel.
He hadn’t said anything else about contracting as a family unit, but she was fairly certain that wasn’t because he’d forgotten it or dismissed the idea. She had the distinct feeling that he thought she would grow accustomed to it by sharing his abode with him and the infant.
She wasn’t certain she would. She hadn’t experienced anything since the birth of the infant to convince her she’d been wrong about not having nurturing instincts. The infant seemed to trust her, which only proved the poor thing hadn’t developed adequate logic capabilities, because she hadn’t a clue of what she was doing, or if she was doing any of it correctly. The only reason she hadn’t handed it to Reuel and fled was because he wouldn’t take it long enough, she didn’t think the city of Gallen was large enough for her to hide, and she hated for everyone to know how incompetent she was.
Since the techs had insisted that she must refrain from sexual activities for at least a few weeks due to the condition of her body from the birth, Reuel settled her in a room by herself ... well, almost. He had set the room up with a tiny bed that had sides for the infant. She would’ve rather he’d put the infant in another room, but, she supposed since the food went through it before it had time to assimilate much of it, it had to be fed every few hours to keep it from starving to death. And, for some reason, Reuel and Pierce, who never agreed on anything else, decided she was best qualified for that job.
She decided to accept the decision without argument--for the time being. She fully intended to see to it that she wasn’t saddled with the entire responsibility of nurturing, however. Reuel had contributed, and he could damn well accept that he was going to be sharing the responsibility of parenting. For that matter, she saw no reason for Pierce not to if he was going to continue living at the plantation for a while.
Despite that resolve, she resented the fact that their idea of ‘helping’ was to leave the house altogether so that they wouldn’t accidentally wake the infant, especially when she wanted to do nothing but sleep and she was only allowed a few hours at a stretch. But she found that it was oddly satisfying to cuddle the tiny thing and hold the bottle while it drank.
It had developed the habit of clutching a fistful of her tunic while she held it. She didn’t know whether that meant it sensed she might drop it and didn’t fully trust her, or if it was just trying to stay close to her because it had been attached inside of her so long and thought it was still supposed to be attached.
“We should name it,” she announced to Reuel and Pierce once they’d settled into their rooms and gathered in the ‘small’ informal living area that adjoined the bedrooms, which were all on the second floor of the house.
Reuel smiled faintly, glancing around the room with obvious pride. “I did. I call it Tara, from one of the ancient paper books I’ve collected.”
Following his gaze, Dalia rolled her eyes. “The infant!”
“Oh.” Reuel looked at her sheepishly.
“Reuela?” Pierce suggested.
Dalia looked at him suspiciously. “Reuela?” she echoed.
He shrugged. “You said it looked like Reuel. I don’t see it myself, but she does have black hair like his.”
