The Broken God by David Zindell Page B

Time on the first morning of the world? That the Devaki looked much as Old Father said, however, he could not deny.
    'My father and mother,' he said, 'were of the Unreal City. They made the journey to Kweitkel where I was born. They died, and Haidar and Chandra adopted me.'
    Old Father smiled and nodded politely. For the Fravashi, smiling is as easy as breathing, though they have learned the awkward custom of head nodding only with difficulty. 'How old are you, Danlo?'
    He started to tell Old Father that he was thirteen years old, but then remembered that he must have passed his fourteenth birthday at the end of deep winter, somewhere out on the ice. 'I have lived fourteen years.'
    'Do fourteen-year-old Devaki boys leave their parents?'
    Again, Danlo's face burned with shame. He didn't want to explain how his parents had died. He pulled back the blanket covering his groin and pointed to his membrum. 'I have been cut, yes? You can see I am a man. A man may journey where he must.'
    'Ah ha, a man!' Old Father repeated. 'What is it like to be a man at such a young age?'
    'Only a man would know,' Danlo answered playfully. And then, after a moment of reflection, he said, 'It is hard – very hard.'
    He smiled at Old Father, and in silence and understanding his smile was returned. Old Father had the kindest smile he could have imagined. Sitting with him was a comfort almost as deep as sitting in front of the flickering oilstones on a cold night. And yet, there was something else about him that he couldn't quite define, something not so comforting at all. At times, Old Father's awareness of him seemed almost too intense, like the hellish false winter sun. At other times, his attention wandered, or rather, hardened to include Danlo as merely one of the room's many objects, and then his intellect seemed as cold as glacier ice.
    'Oh ho, Danlo the Wild, I should tell you something.' Old Father laced his long fingers together and rested his chin in his hands. 'Most people will doubt your story. You might want to be careful of what you say.'
    'Why? Why should I be careful? You think I have lied to you, but no, I have not. The truth is the truth. Am I a satinka that I would lie to others just for the sport? No, I am not a liar, and now it is time for me to thank you for your hospitality and continue my journey.'
    He was attempting to stand when Old Father placed a hand on his shoulder and said, 'Sit a while longer. Ho, ho! I can hear the truth in what you say, but others do not have this ability. And, of course, even hearing the truth is not the same as knowing it.'
    'What do you mean?'
    Old Father whistled slowly, then said, 'This will be hard for you to understand. But so, it's so: It is possible for a human being to cast away true memories and implant new ones. False ones.'
    'But memory is memory – how can memory be cast away?'
    'Ah, oh, there are ways, Danlo.'
    'And how can memories be implanted? Who would want to remember something unreal?'
    'Oh ho, but there are many people who desire false memories, a new reality, you see. They seek the thrill of newness. To cark the mind in the same way they cark the body. Some people sculpt their bodies to resemble aliens or according to whatever shape is fashionable; some like to be aliens, to know a wholly different experience. Most people will conclude that you, Danlo the Wild, must have merely imprinted the Alaloi reality.'
    'But why?'
    'To be what you want to be: isn't this the essence of being human?'
    'I do not know.' Danlo said truthfully.
    Old Father smiled, then bowed his head politely, in respect for the seriousness of effort with which Danlo received his words. Painfully, with infinite care and slowness, he arose to make some tea. 'Ahhh!' he grunted, 'ohhh!' His hips clicked and popped with arthritis; he could have gone to any cutter in the Farsider's Quarter and ordered new hips, but he disdained bodily rejuvenations of any sort. He crossed the room, opened a wood cabinet, and from a