The microcephalon has not spoken since we removed it from the capsule. I do not believe it will speak again.
Miranda and I perform our chores in harmony. The hostility between us is gone. We are partners in crime, now edgy with guilt that we do not admit to one another. We tend our shipmate with loving care.
Someone had to make the observations, after all. There were no volunteers. The situation called for force, or the deadlock would never have been broken.
But Miranda and I hated each other, you say? Why, then, should we cooperate?
We both are humans, Miranda and I. The microcephalon is not. In the end, that made the difference. In the last analysis, Miranda and I decided that we humans must stick together. There are ties that bind.
We speed on toward civilization.
She smiles at me. I do not find her hateful now. The microcephalon is silent.