“You wouldn’t say that if you’d ever seen one.” She turned, and began to walk up the slight incline.
Ozzie started after her. “Why not?”
“Let’s just say they don’t act like herbivores.”
“You got it all figured out, don’tcha?”
“No, Ozzie, nothing like. I understand very little of this place, and all the others I walked through. Why don’t the Silfen allow us to have electricity?”
“Simple enough theory. They’re experiencing life on a purely physical level; that’s all these bodies we see are for, to give them a platform at this level of personal consciousness evolution. And it kills me to say it, but it’s a pretty low level, given their capabilities. You start introducing electricity, and machines, and all the paraphernalia which goes with it, then you start to shrink that opportunity for raw natural experience.”
“Yeah,” she said sourly. “God forbid they should invent medicine.”
“It’s irrelevant to them. We need it because we treasure our individuality and continuity. Their outlook is different. They’re on a journey that has a very definite conclusion. At the end of their levels they get to become a part of their adult community.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
He shrugged, a gesture largely wasted under his heavy fur coat. “I was told that once.”
“Who by?”
“This dude I met in a bar.”
“Dear Christ, I don’t know which is weirder, them or you.”
“Definitely them.” They came to the top of the small rim as the sun vanished, leaving only a flaming fuchsia glow in the sky.
“You also shouldn’t be out so late,” Sara said. “There’s no beacon to guide you back here, you know.”
“Don’t worry about me, I see better in the dark than most people.”
“You got fur instead of skin as well? Even the Korrok-hi don’t stay out at night on this world.”
“Sure. Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”
“You’ll have to do a lot better tomorrow when you follow the Silfen.”
“Right. You know, I’m still kind of surprised you didn’t want to come with us.”
“I will leave one day, Ozzie. Just not yet, that’s all.”
“But why, you’ve been here long enough. I can’t see you buying into George’s idea about how living here as some kind of penance makes us value our lives more. And as far as I can make out there’s no one special for you. Is there?” Which had slowly begun to nag at him as his own suggestions in that direction over the months had all gone unheeded.
“No,” she said slowly. “There’s no one right now.”
“That’s a shame, Sara. We all need someone.”
“So were you going to volunteer?”
The mild scorn in her voice made him pause. After a moment, Sara stopped and looked back at him. “What?” she asked.
“Well, goddamn, I couldn’t have been any blunter,” Ozzie said.
“Blunt about what?”
“About us. You and me. Rocking the mattress.”
“But you’ve got… Oh.”
“Got what?” he asked suspiciously.
“I thought… we all thought: you and Orion.”
“Me and Orion what… ohshit.”
“You mean he’s not your—”
“No. Absolutely. Not.”
“Ah.”
“And I’m not.”
“Okay. Sorry. Misunderstanding, there.”
“Not that there’s anything—”
“No, certainly not. There isn’t. I had lots of gay friends.”
“Did you?”
“That’s what you’re supposed to say.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Well, that cleared that up, then.”
“It did.”Oh, terrific.
They hurried back up the remainder of the escarpment to the tents in silence. Everyone was inside now, thick black oil fumes were squirting out of carefully designed vents in the top as the evening meal got under way.
“Ozzie,” Sara said in a weary tone just before they went into their tent.
“Yo.”
“Tomorrow, when the Silfen hunt the icewhales, don’t get curious, okay? No matter how exciting or repellent, or fascinating you think it is, stay back, stay right out of their way.”