from the common room. Ketheria quickly returned and linked to one of the O-dat displays.
I think the worst part for me was not knowing. I thought I knew everything about my parents: where they were born, what they worked on in the labs, even what they wrote in their notes to each other. To think that there were over three hundred files I would never see made me crazy. Secretly, I hoped to find some
reason
on those files. Some clue as to what this was all about. Why did my parents want to come here? Did they think Ketheria and I would have a better life here than on Earth? If so, why?
The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. My parents should have prepared better for this. Did they know about my softwire ability? Was it possible they knew Ketheria might not talk? My parents performed tests on the embryos for years. Surely, they must have thought of something. I was mad at them for not telling us. I was mad at them for not preparing us. Worse, I was mad at them for not being here.
When I went to my room that night, I was not keen on using the dream-enhancement capabilities of the sleeper. Theodore was feeling much better by then, but he didn’t remember a thing. We said good night, and I placed the equipment far away from me and waited for sleep to come.
The next morning Switzer skipped breakfast. I figured he would skip the pink tablets for quite some time. We found the Wisdom, Culture, and Comprehension building by ourselves and loaded into the social studies class.
“You don’t look so good,” Max said when she saw me.
“They junked the
Renaissance.
”
“I know. Grace told me. But I thought you were glad to get off that . . . tin farm. Isn’t that what you called it?” Max said.
“But now there’s no way to use the disc you made me to get to my parents’ files.”
“You’re right. I forgot about that, JT. I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sure it was only boring protocol sent back to Earth, anyway.”
“Yeah, but it kills me that I’ll never know for sure.”
“Do you remember when Mother hatched the last of the embryos? When your sister was born and all the other little ones?” she asked me.
“Yeah, why?”
“Remember how crazy it was on the ship? Do you remember how the little ones got into everything and all that crying?”
“I know. I loved it when they would crawl back to the nurture pods,” I said.
“And then everything seemed to settle down. Everything sort of found a rhythm. Before we knew it, it was like they had always been there.”
“I remember.”
“Well, that’s what’s going to happen here. Everything seems crazy right now, but it’s all gonna settle down. We’re all gonna find our place, and it’s going to be like we always lived here.”
I looked at Max. She was smart. “Thanks, Max,” I told her. “That helps.”
Max smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said, and linked to her O-dat. “I think we’re learning about Keeper decrees today.”
Max was so right. Orbis was my home now. Problems or not, this was my life. It was up to me to make it work. I uplinked the files Keetle set aside for us while I tried to forget about my parents’ files once and for all.
On the
Renaissance,
Mother taught us about Earth and its customs through the games and having us watch entertainment files. Now we just plugged in, uplinked, and digested the hundreds of rules the Keepers created, all to keep the populace on Orbis under control. Greeplings were not allowed to genetically alter their broods past two hundred offspring (apparently once Greeplings started populating an area, they quickly overtook it, despite their short life cycle). Zzxyx arrivals, as well as anyone arriving through the wormhole from the Theta system, must be quarantined for three phases. All telepaths must report for registration at their first port of arrival or risk being incarcerated, and all Trefaldoorian clones must each be identified by a different name. My new home had a lot of rules,
I think the worst part for me was not knowing. I thought I knew everything about my parents: where they were born, what they worked on in the labs, even what they wrote in their notes to each other. To think that there were over three hundred files I would never see made me crazy. Secretly, I hoped to find some
reason
on those files. Some clue as to what this was all about. Why did my parents want to come here? Did they think Ketheria and I would have a better life here than on Earth? If so, why?
The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. My parents should have prepared better for this. Did they know about my softwire ability? Was it possible they knew Ketheria might not talk? My parents performed tests on the embryos for years. Surely, they must have thought of something. I was mad at them for not telling us. I was mad at them for not preparing us. Worse, I was mad at them for not being here.
When I went to my room that night, I was not keen on using the dream-enhancement capabilities of the sleeper. Theodore was feeling much better by then, but he didn’t remember a thing. We said good night, and I placed the equipment far away from me and waited for sleep to come.
The next morning Switzer skipped breakfast. I figured he would skip the pink tablets for quite some time. We found the Wisdom, Culture, and Comprehension building by ourselves and loaded into the social studies class.
“You don’t look so good,” Max said when she saw me.
“They junked the
Renaissance.
”
“I know. Grace told me. But I thought you were glad to get off that . . . tin farm. Isn’t that what you called it?” Max said.
“But now there’s no way to use the disc you made me to get to my parents’ files.”
“You’re right. I forgot about that, JT. I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sure it was only boring protocol sent back to Earth, anyway.”
“Yeah, but it kills me that I’ll never know for sure.”
“Do you remember when Mother hatched the last of the embryos? When your sister was born and all the other little ones?” she asked me.
“Yeah, why?”
“Remember how crazy it was on the ship? Do you remember how the little ones got into everything and all that crying?”
“I know. I loved it when they would crawl back to the nurture pods,” I said.
“And then everything seemed to settle down. Everything sort of found a rhythm. Before we knew it, it was like they had always been there.”
“I remember.”
“Well, that’s what’s going to happen here. Everything seems crazy right now, but it’s all gonna settle down. We’re all gonna find our place, and it’s going to be like we always lived here.”
I looked at Max. She was smart. “Thanks, Max,” I told her. “That helps.”
Max smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said, and linked to her O-dat. “I think we’re learning about Keeper decrees today.”
Max was so right. Orbis was my home now. Problems or not, this was my life. It was up to me to make it work. I uplinked the files Keetle set aside for us while I tried to forget about my parents’ files once and for all.
On the
Renaissance,
Mother taught us about Earth and its customs through the games and having us watch entertainment files. Now we just plugged in, uplinked, and digested the hundreds of rules the Keepers created, all to keep the populace on Orbis under control. Greeplings were not allowed to genetically alter their broods past two hundred offspring (apparently once Greeplings started populating an area, they quickly overtook it, despite their short life cycle). Zzxyx arrivals, as well as anyone arriving through the wormhole from the Theta system, must be quarantined for three phases. All telepaths must report for registration at their first port of arrival or risk being incarcerated, and all Trefaldoorian clones must each be identified by a different name. My new home had a lot of rules,
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