thought before it was rediscovered, why should not have archaeopteryx?
The fossil record of the new world was quite limited. There were no missing links and most of the animals found seem to have suddenly appeared.
It was not—and is not—known if the Noahs who had seeded the planet had also created the rift that allowed instantaneous transport between Earth's solar system and the other or if they had merely used something that was already there. As to whether man could make use of the rift, reliably, that awaited events.
In the event, man being man, extinct species on the old world tended to become extinct species, extinct out of zoos anyway, on the new.
Chapter Five
In peace, children inter their parents; war violates the order of nature and causes parents to inter their children.
—Herodotus
Cochea, 12/7/459 AC
Hennessey had first laid eyes upon his future wife at a national festival. She had been seventeen then, one of the dancers garbed in the national costume the Balboans had brought with them from Earth, the pollera. Linda's hair had been done up in an intricate array of gold and silver. There was no word adequate to describe her. Perhaps "stunning" came close.
As he had first laid eyes on her, so had she—without at the time knowing—laid hands upon his heart. In a phrase, he had fallen, abjectly and completely. And he didn't even know her name.
In his dream, Hennessey again watched the dance, again pushed his way through the crowd, again steeled himself for a very informal self- introduction.
The dream Linda, as she had so many years before, smiled warmly . . . friendly . . . confident as only beautiful young women are confident. The brash gringo had a certain something. She admitted as much to herself.
They walked as in a dream and the walk was a dream. "I am going to marry you someday," Hennessey said. "You and only you."
Linda had scoffed. "You just met me. We haven't even been properly introduced."
"No matter," he answered. "You and only you."
"You are so sure? What makes you think I would marry you? Besides, I am only seventeen."
"No matter. The girl is mother to the woman. I will wait." He seemed very certain.
She laughed, white teeth flashing in the sun. "How long will you wait, brash gringo?"
"Forever . . . if I must," he answered seriously.
"Forever is a very long time," she countered.
"For you, and only you, I would wait 'forever.'"
Young Linda inclined her head to one side. Her eyes narrowed, judging, studying. "Hmm . . . perhaps you would at that."
A face rapt with amusement turned suddenly serious. "Do you smell something?"
Hennessey's nose wrinkled. He sniffed. "Smoke. From where?"
He and Linda looked downward at the same time. "Oh," she said in surprise.
The hem of Linda's green-embroidered pollera was on fire, the fire racing up and out. Hennessey knelt to try to beat the flames out with his hands. The fire raced on, ignoring his efforts. She began to scream as the flames reached her skin. "Please help me," she cried. "Please."
For all Hennessey's thrashing hands, the personal inferno spread. His hands turned red, then began to blister. The blisters broke. His hands began to char. All the time he never stopped trying to put out the flames.
Linda screamed with agony, her cries cutting through Hennessey's heart like a knife.
Hennessey looked up. The girl was a mass of flame. Fire leapt from her hands to her head. Hair crackled. Gold and silver ran like water. The flames began to consume her face.
Ignoring the fire and the pain, Hennessey wrapped his arms around the girl, hands still beating frantically to put out the fire that was eating her alive. The fire must have eaten its way inside her as well, for her eyes—once brown and warm—turned red, hot and then burst like overripe grapes.
Still screaming, Hennessey sat bolt upright in his bed. He wept for a little while, as quietly as he was able. Then, to the sound of antaniae outside the house
The fossil record of the new world was quite limited. There were no missing links and most of the animals found seem to have suddenly appeared.
It was not—and is not—known if the Noahs who had seeded the planet had also created the rift that allowed instantaneous transport between Earth's solar system and the other or if they had merely used something that was already there. As to whether man could make use of the rift, reliably, that awaited events.
In the event, man being man, extinct species on the old world tended to become extinct species, extinct out of zoos anyway, on the new.
Chapter Five
In peace, children inter their parents; war violates the order of nature and causes parents to inter their children.
—Herodotus
Cochea, 12/7/459 AC
Hennessey had first laid eyes upon his future wife at a national festival. She had been seventeen then, one of the dancers garbed in the national costume the Balboans had brought with them from Earth, the pollera. Linda's hair had been done up in an intricate array of gold and silver. There was no word adequate to describe her. Perhaps "stunning" came close.
As he had first laid eyes on her, so had she—without at the time knowing—laid hands upon his heart. In a phrase, he had fallen, abjectly and completely. And he didn't even know her name.
In his dream, Hennessey again watched the dance, again pushed his way through the crowd, again steeled himself for a very informal self- introduction.
The dream Linda, as she had so many years before, smiled warmly . . . friendly . . . confident as only beautiful young women are confident. The brash gringo had a certain something. She admitted as much to herself.
They walked as in a dream and the walk was a dream. "I am going to marry you someday," Hennessey said. "You and only you."
Linda had scoffed. "You just met me. We haven't even been properly introduced."
"No matter," he answered. "You and only you."
"You are so sure? What makes you think I would marry you? Besides, I am only seventeen."
"No matter. The girl is mother to the woman. I will wait." He seemed very certain.
She laughed, white teeth flashing in the sun. "How long will you wait, brash gringo?"
"Forever . . . if I must," he answered seriously.
"Forever is a very long time," she countered.
"For you, and only you, I would wait 'forever.'"
Young Linda inclined her head to one side. Her eyes narrowed, judging, studying. "Hmm . . . perhaps you would at that."
A face rapt with amusement turned suddenly serious. "Do you smell something?"
Hennessey's nose wrinkled. He sniffed. "Smoke. From where?"
He and Linda looked downward at the same time. "Oh," she said in surprise.
The hem of Linda's green-embroidered pollera was on fire, the fire racing up and out. Hennessey knelt to try to beat the flames out with his hands. The fire raced on, ignoring his efforts. She began to scream as the flames reached her skin. "Please help me," she cried. "Please."
For all Hennessey's thrashing hands, the personal inferno spread. His hands turned red, then began to blister. The blisters broke. His hands began to char. All the time he never stopped trying to put out the flames.
Linda screamed with agony, her cries cutting through Hennessey's heart like a knife.
Hennessey looked up. The girl was a mass of flame. Fire leapt from her hands to her head. Hair crackled. Gold and silver ran like water. The flames began to consume her face.
Ignoring the fire and the pain, Hennessey wrapped his arms around the girl, hands still beating frantically to put out the fire that was eating her alive. The fire must have eaten its way inside her as well, for her eyes—once brown and warm—turned red, hot and then burst like overripe grapes.
Still screaming, Hennessey sat bolt upright in his bed. He wept for a little while, as quietly as he was able. Then, to the sound of antaniae outside the house
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