“It hasn’t rained in three days,” said Daan. “Last summer, it was wet six days out of seven. Some of the crops look like they’re unhappy about it.” He stood up and dropped the soil, brushing his fingers clean on his trousers.

  “So we’ll plant this empty field later this year?”

  “Yes, toward the end of autumn, about the third week in Claudy. I’m thinking of putting in dantella and fengselldks. It’s uneven ground and pretty stony, but TECT picked a good site for the farm. It’s very fertile.”

  “You seem to be the expert here on agriculture,” said Courane. “Did you live on a farm back on Earth?”

  Daan seemed displeased. He looked into Courane’s eyes, his face impassive. “You should know better by now than to pry. We don’t ask questions like that here.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Courane. “I couldn’t help wondering. What I mean is that I know perfectly well what I’m guilty of and why TECT wanted to send me here. Fletcher and Molly are easy to figure, too. But some people here don’t strike me as typical lawbreakers. You, for instance, and Lani and Markie. Do you remember the old woman who died the day after I came here?”

  “Zofia.”

  “Yes. What could she possibly have done to be sent here?”

  “I never found out,” said Daan. They walked across the fallow field toward the acre of fishfruit plants. They were large spreading things that grew from a thick central stalk of a pale blue color. Dozens of wide fiat blades reached out and up in all directions. These long “leaves” had a disturbing fleshy pink color and a fat, soft, succulent feel to them. Some of the leaves were rolled up tight against the stalk, and inside these rolls were the spiny red fishfruit.

  Courane went up to one of the plants and unrolled a leaf to see the unripe fruit inside. “I have to admit, Daan,” he said, “that I just can’t get used to the food here.”

  “Give it time. Maybe you’ll develop a taste for it.”

  Courane grimaced. He was about to say something more when he was interrupted by a call. The two men turned. Molly was hurrying toward them. “Just got a message on the tect,” she said. “We’re going to have some visitors.”

  “What do you mean?” said Daan.

  “Visitors,” she said. “TECT said that fourteen people will be coming here for a few days. From another colony.”

  “Did TECT say why?” asked Daan. “We’ve never had visitors before.”

  “They’re having some kind of disaster or something on their world and TECT has to resettle them somewhere.”

  “Here?” said Courane. “This farm can’t support twenty-six people for very long, can it?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” said Molly. “TECT said that they’ll be here only five or six days. There’s some kind of periodic thing that happens where they’re from and it isn’t safe for people. When it’s all over, they’ll go back.”

  “I hope it isn’t a plague,” said Courane.

  “We’ll take care of them,” said Daan. “Molly, we’ll have to double up in our rooms. We can use six rooms on the second floor and our guests can double up in the others. If they’re only going to be here for a few days, we don’t have to worry about food. We’ll butcher a blerd and two or three varks and a few smudgeon. It means a lot of extra work on top of the farm chores, but there’s no other way.”

  “All right, Daan,” she said. “Lani and I can draw up new work schedules.”

  “Take care of it, Molly, and thanks. We’ll all talk about it tonight after supper.”

  She went back to the house. Courane and Daan left the fishfruit field and walked toward the river. They saw Arthur coming toward them with a basket. He had been collecting sandsquash.

  “Seeing some new people could be pleasant,” said Courane. “TECT probably decided it would be good for us.”

  “I don’t know,” said Daan, “sometimes I get the idea that TECT couldn’t care less about us. As if it sent us here to get rid of us, to forget about us. Botany Bay in the sky.”

  Courane studied the man. Daan was big, taller than anyone else in the community, and his pale blue eyes were sharp and watchful. He had blond hair and a handsome face that was more youthful than Daan’s actual age would warrant. He rarely spoke unless he had thought out each word he wanted to say and examined its possible effects. He was careful, intelligent, and absolutely honest; he seemed the least likely of the inmates to have wronged TECT in any way.

  “You don’t have to answer, Daan, but whatever you did, was it really so terrible?”

  “That’s a matter of opinion—TECT’s opinion. But of all of us here, I am probably the one most legitimately being punished.” Daan hesitated, then relented and began to tell his story. “I was condemned because I was an administrator. My bureau analyzed figures concerning fuel consumption in one district of the European zone. Somewhere in the gigantic mass of data, there was a misleading indication of how the fuel had been allocated and used a couple of years ago. Some factor, I’m still not sure what, had been overlooked. Based on this information, my statisticians predicted that the fuel requirement for the following year would be at a certain level, and that was how much fuel was distributed to that district. It was a hard winter and the fuel was insufficient. Many people suffered because of it. Quite a number of people died. There was a loud and angry uproar, and so TECT promised an investigation. You know yourself what TECT’s investigations are like. The whole thing took about eleven minutes. The blame was put on my bureau, and rightly so.” Daan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. For him, it had been an unusually long speech.

  “And so heads rolled.”

  Daan smiled. “Not heads, Sandy. Just mine. I was the supervisor, so I was responsible.”

  Courane tried to understand. “But how does excarcerating you improve anything? It seems a big waste to send someone with as much experience as you to pick weeds on an empty planet. And anyway the people who were really at fault are still working in your old bureau.”

  Daan said nothing more. Courane sensed that the blond man had talked enough about the subject.

  “Hello, Daan, Sandy,” said Arthur.

  “Squash again tonight?” said Daan.

  “Uh huh,” said Arthur. “And smudgeon eggs and broiled screamer fillets.”

  Courane’s heart sank. “We’re getting some visitors,” he said.

  Arthur’s eyes widened. “Visitors? From Earth?”

  “No,” said Courane, “from another colony. They’ll be here for a week or so. I think it will make a nice change.”

  “I’m not sure,” said Arthur. “If they’re from a colony

  like ours, they could be criminals and degenerates.”

  The three men walked together back to the farmhouse. “Right,” said Daan skeptically, “just like all of us.”

  Is this Sandy? My God, the person I was just talking to said you were out killing animals or something. Gee, I knew you were a depraved and loony barbarian, but what pleasure could you get out of killing dumb little animals? They don’t even have a chance to defend themselves. What were you doing? Shooting sparrows with an air rifle? That’s disgusting. I thought people like you were only In books and shows. All my friends think I’m lying when I tell them all the things you’ve done. The only nice part is that now I’m more popular than I ever was, so if you do any more horrible bloody things please tell me. You know I’ll understand even though my mother tried to keep me from calling you. You called me the first time and I called you the second time and I waited for you to call me again but you never did so I thought I’d call you today. You probably have been busy all this time and now I know why. You’ve been murdering helpless little birds.

  “Else, I live on a farm. I was in the shed butchering a vark. We raise them; they’re a staple of our diet. We smoke the meat or make sausage out of it. There’s nothing depraved about that at all.”

  Well, that wouldn’t be so interesting to write about in the Headhunter, you know. My grandfather makes sausages. They’re hanging right now from the rafters in the attic. We’ll have to do better than that. Here in Jadwigadorf, all of my friends are getting married (except me!) and the rice is falling like snowflakes. Do you remember what I said last time? About Gunter? Well, Gunter isn’t my boyfriend anymore and it’s all TECTs fault if you can believe that.

  “Else, maybe we ought to change the subject. I don’t think we should talk about TECT like that.”

  Why not? What harm could it do? You’re thousands and thousands of miles away. What I was starting to say was that Gunter seemed very nice and all in the beginning, but after a while I noticed that he had these annoying habits. He didn’t treat women with respect. I like to be treated with respect, every woman does, and Gunter just acted like I was just another of his dull friends and he didn’t have to go out of his way to help me with tilings. So that night I asked TECT, I said, “Should a boy open a door for you and things like that if he likes you?“ And TECT goes (I copied this down right from the screen to stow Gunter), “A girl shouldn’t open tor own doors unless she’s ready for the boy to forget about all the other natural signs of good manners and good breeding as well. Any man who is proud of his virility is embarrassed to walk through a door some girl has opened for him. He looks foolish to himself and he knows that all the people who saw it are thinking and whispering about him.” Well, I was happy that TECT was on my side for once. I guess it means that Gunter wasn’t a real man after all. I sure was fooled.

  “So you’re looking for a new boyfriend again?”

  Just someone to pass the time until you come back to me—ha ha. That was a joke. I know you’ve never met me in person, but I feel like I’ve known you for years. I’m sure you won’t mind if I find a new boyfriend because, as you say, you are thousands and thousands of miles away. Meanwhile, how are you? I’m sorry to hear that Lani passed away. Has Rachel been comforting you? I should be jealous, but I’m not. To someone like you who has no morals or standards of decent behavior, it probably doesn’t bother you at all to toy with my feelings.

  “I loved Lani very much. Rachel is a very lovely young woman and she seems to be infatuated with me. I’ve done my best to discourage her, but she isn’t being very reasonable about it. Further than that, I don’t want to discuss my personal matters.”

  Why, Sandy? I tell you all my problems. I’m sorry if I brought up something that hurts you. I didn’t know and I won’t do it again. You’re such a good friend that I wouldn’t want to do anything to make you mad. Will you forgive me?

  “Okay, Else.”

  Thanks, Sandy. I was afraid that if you didn’t forgive me, when you came back to Earth, you’d track me down and cut my throat in my sleep and I’d never get a good night’s rest again, worrying about when it would happen. But we’re friends again. Do you know what else TECT told me? I asked if TECT had any ideas about how I could improve my memory. I have a hard time remembering people’s names when I’m introduced. It’s awful sometimes. I’ll be standing around talking with friends and then some person will come by who I met but don’t remember. I know I’m supposed to introduce him, but I can’t and I just hope one of my friends knows him and uses his name in the conversation. So TECT said I ought to connect a new person’s name with some interesting fact. That way I’ll never forget the person because he’ll be more than just a name. I tried it out just the other day. I-met a few kids at the bowling alley and one guy said his name was Juan Something-or-other and he was a heelman in a shoe repair shop, an art he had learned from his father. So to follow TECT’s advice, I go, “Tell me something interesting about heels, ” and he thought I was making fun of him. It spoiled the whole evening. So I went back to my old system which is when I’ve forgotten somebody’s name, I go, “By the way, how do you spell your name again?” It usually works except this one time I got a strange look from this boy and he goes, “S-M-l-T-H,” and I never got a call from him again. But that’s life, I guess—ha ha.

  “Else, may I ask you a personal question?”

  Sure, Sandy, people ask me them all the time.

  “How did you know Lani’s name? And where did you hear about Rachel?”

  **

  **UR a d :

  **OU , Sa o :

  **OUR N , S do :

  **COURANP, Saedo6:

  **COURAN„ Sandor:

  **COURANE, Sandor:

  There has been a temporary suspension of communications between Earth and Ejsilon Eridani, Planet %, due to the interference of unsual amounts of dust, space debrix, pulsars, gamma rlys, dids*Mors, neutrinos, tachyons, dark stars, beta partipples, formaldehyde, sunspots, gravitons, antimatter, quasarb, radio galaxies, and what the astrophysicists jokingly refer to es “angels.” Commmmcations will be restored as soon as pog-gible. Please stand brtksirmsie 8E&m!4T*******

  “How about that,” murmured Courane. He felt flushed with a wild and rare elation. He had learned another thing about how devious TECT could be. There probably was a real person named Else Wisswede, but he had never spoken with her. He had been corresponding with a crazy construct of the great machine. But the stunning fact remained that here, in this moment, he had won his first important victory over TECT—he, Sandor Courane, had won! And he was determined not to let TECT escape to recover its loss. The others would be as jubilant as he was.

  After Courane and Rachel visited with Daan, they went to Molly’s bed. “How are you feeling?” asked Rachel.

  Molly looked up at her. She stared for several seconds, her face blank of all expression. “Rachel,” she said at last.

  “Yes, Molly. How are you feeling today?”

  “Rachel, where am I? Am I home?”

  “You’re in the infirmary, Molly.”

  “It’s cold.”

  Courane took a blanket from an empty bed and covered Molly with it. “It’s winter,” he said. “Spring will be here soon enough.”

  Molly moved her gaze slowly from Rachel to Courane. “Thank you, Johnny,” she said.

  “Do you need anything? Can we bring you anything?” asked Rachel.

  “There was something,” said Molly. Courane and Rachel waited, but Molly didn’t say anything more specific.

  “Would you like me to read to you?” asked Courane.

  Molly stared at him for a moment. “Yes,” she said.

  “I brought those passages you said you’d like to hear,” he said.

  “What a beautiful place this is,” said Molly. Tears trickled slowly from her eyes. “A garden place. Undisturbed. Except for us. But we’re careful not to hurt anything. There are trees and animals and birds and fish in the river, and everything is so clean and pure. And we’re careful not to hurt anything. And there is so much for us to do, so much to build, and the animals to take care of and the crops in the fields, the good soil and the river and the forests and the valley. Everything is so good here.” Her eyes opened wide and she let her breath out in a long sigh. Then she settled back farther on her pillow. She stared with unfocused eyes across the room. Courane and Rachel exchanged glances; they couldn’t tell whether Molly was lost in a deep reverie or simply having a typical D syndrome lapse.

  “It will be time for dinner soon,” said Goldie. “Would you watch them while I go downstairs to get their trays?”

  “Sure, Goldie,” said Rachel.

  Courane stood up to go to Sheldon’s bed, but Molly’s voice stopped him. “Then I am Eve,” she said.

  “Eve?” asked Courane.

  “In the Garden of Eden,” whispered Rachel.

  “Eve came from the wounded side of Adam, just as the Church came from the holy wounded side of Jesus.”

  “Molly?” said Courane softly. She did not hear him.

  “And this is my reward,” she murmured. “I am given all this as reward for obeying my Lord. I was offered the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, but I did not eat. This beautiful garden and these wonderful friends are my reward. I know that my eyes might be opened more by taking the fruit, but I do not need that evil gift. Losing this garden would be too high a price to pay.”

  Courane sat down again beside her bed. He waited but it did not seem that she would speak again. She had fallen deeply asleep.

  Rachel and Courane moved to Sheldon’s bedside. He did not notice them. He was conscious, but not alert. His open eyes gazed unblinkingly at the ceiling above his bed. He did not respond to his name. He made low gurgling noises in his throat as he breathed through his mouth. His fingers clutched spasmodically at his covers and occasionally he winced as though struck by a sharp pain. Courane was glad when Goldie returned. He wanted to go back downstairs.

  In his room, Courane thought about his plan. He would find Rachel alone because this was to be the ultimate, predestined episode in his life, the great gift he could bestow that would redeem all the blunders and crimes of his career on Earth. He hoped that he was thinking clearly because he couldn’t afford to make more mistakes now. One error and all would be for nothing, his grand gesture wasted, and TECT would be right in its estimation—he would be a clown, an interstellar buffoon, and no one could ever have the slightest sympathy for him.

  He looked around the room. There was little here to help him on his way, and there was nothing to draw him back. He tore a blank page out of the notebook of observations he and Daan had made. He drew a rough map showing the house, the river, the opposite bank, the road, the hills. He would add to the map as he went because he knew that he would experience memory lapses on his journey. He would need the map to remind him of his mission.