Omega Point Trilogy by George Zebrowski Page A

come by?”
    “About a week,” Fane said, “going east.”
    “You don’t like the train, do you?”
    “No.”
    “It takes from us our reliance on our bodies,” the older woman said.
    “But isn’t it useful?” Kurbi asked.
    “When?” Fane said.
    “Why — when someone is sick and needs a hospital.…”
    “We are never sick,” the woman said, “unless it is time to die.”
    “What about when food is scarce?”
    “To be useful is not always to be right,” Fane said.
    The storm was dying outside. Kurbi turned and saw daylight brightening in the window.
    “The rain will help,” Kurbi said.
    “It is welcome — but it is not enough,” Fane said.
    “How old are your daughters?” Kurbi asked.
    “They are spoken for,” Fane said.
    “Do you have any sons?”
    “They have gone.”
    “Where?”
    “To the port, the rail towns — we don’t know,” Fane said.
    Kurbi thought of his co-workers in the port, especially Den, who must have come from a family like this. A severe conflict would one day develop on New Mars, between those who would modernize according to Federation ways and those who would cling to the ideals of the original colonists. The conflict was even present in how Fane spoke to him. Quite clearly, he disapproved of offworlders and their influence, but his curiosity as well as good manners prevented him from showing his feelings overtly.
    “How old are you?” the woman asked.
    Her husband gave her a quick look of surprise and cut her off with another question. “How long do people live where you come from?”
    “I’m from Earth,” Kurbi said, “I’m fifty Earth years old. That’s about thirty-five of your years, which are longer. Federation citizens can live as long as they wish depending on whether there is a rejuvenation facility nearby. Medical care is part of Federation citizenship, a right. Technically, New Mars is part of the Federation, but it’s up to you what you import.”
    “Not every world has interstar transport facilities,” Fane said, eager to show that he knew something.
    “That’s true,” Kurbi said. He estimated that Fane was about fifty Earth years old, but he looked older.
    “But I have no wish to live beyond my time,” Fane added quickly. Then he looked directly at Kurbi and asked, “Don’t you wish to die?”
    “Sometimes — many of my people take their own lives when it comes to that.”
    “It was meant to be,” the woman said, “the merciful God made the world to test us for another life, not for us to be happy in. If we are happy we will not learn what will be required of us later.”
    “How long will you live?” Fane asked.
    “I don’t know — past a century at least, I suppose. My wife died in a flying accident recently.”
    “Flying?” Fane asked.
    “Gliding — for sport.”
    “I don’t understand,” Fane said.
    The woman shook her head but did not speak.
    “That is why you are traveling?” Fane asked.
    Kurbi nodded. “May I stay here for a day or two? I’ve been doing chores for my food and a place to sleep. Can you use the help?”
    “Yes, I can,” Fane said. Kurbi sensed that the mention of Grazia’s death had affected Fane, perhaps reminding him of the certainty of his wife’s death, as well as of his own.
    “You may stay until the next train, young man,” Fane’s wife said. “You may call me Slifa while you are with us.”
    “And your daughters’ names?”
    Slifa looked to her husband. Fane shrugged.
    “They are Azura and Apona,” she said.
    “Twins?”
    “Yes — they were made by God so that they might better see their faults in each other.”
    The two girls nodded solemnly at Kurbi, but he was still unable to see their full faces. He wondered if they were shy, or if they were supposed to wear their hair like a veil.
    “I’m glad to know you, Azura and Apona.”
    “You must not speak of knowing them,” Fane said.
    “I see.”
    “You must not look at them long,” Slifa added. “They must not become