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.“I think I’ll try one of the starships on Lusitania, if I can reestablishcontact with them,” said Jane.“With only a single hive queen worker on board.That way if it is lost, it will not be missed.” Jane turned to nod to the worker who was with them.“Begging your pardon, of course.”“You don’t have to apologize to the worker,” said Quara.“It’s really just the Hive Queen anyway.”Jane looked over at Miro and winked.Miro did not wink back, but the look of sadness in his eyes was answer enough.He knew that the workers were not quite what everyone thought.The hive queens sometimes had to tame them, because not all of them were utterly subjected to their mother’s will.But the was-it-or-wasn’t-it-slavery of the workers was a matter for another generation to work out.“Languages,” said Jane.“Carried by genetic molecules.What kind of grammar must they have? Are they linked to sounds, smells, sights? Let’s see how smart we all are without me inside the computers helping.” That struck her as so amazingly funny that she laughed aloud.Ah, how marvelous it was to have her own laughter sounding in her ears, bubbling upward from her lungs, spasming her diaphragm, bringing tears to her eyes!Only when her laughter ended did she realize how leaden the sound of it must have been to Miro, to the others.“I’m sorry,” she said, abashed, and felt a blush rising up her neck into her cheeks.Who could have believed it could burn so hot! It almost made her laugh again.“I’m not used to being alive like this.I know I’m rejoicing when the rest of you are grim, but don’t you see? Even if we all die when the air runs out in a few weeks, I can’t help but marvel at how it feels to me!”“We understand,” said Firequencher.“You have passed into your Second Life.It’s a joyful time for us, as well.”“I spent time among your trees, you know,” said Jane.“Your mothertrees made space for me.Took me in and nurtured me.Does that make us brother and sister now?”“I hardly know what it would mean, to have a sister,” said Firequencher.“But if you remember the life in the dark of the mothertree, then you remember more than I do.We have dreams sometimes, but no real memories of the First Life in darkness.Still, that makes this your Third Life after all.”“Then I’m an adult?” asked Jane, and she laughed again.And again felt how her laugh stilled the others, hurt them.But something odd happened as she turned, ready to apologize again.Her glancefell upon Miro, and instead of saying the words she had planned — the Jane-words that would have come out of the jewel in his ear only the day before — other words came to her lips, along with a memory.“If my memories live,Miro, then I’m alive.Isn’t that what you told me?”Miro shook his head.“Are you speaking from Val’s memory, or from Jane’s memory when she — when you — overheard us speaking in the Hive Queen’s cave? Don’t comfort me by pretending to be her.”Jane, by habit — Val’s habit? or her own? — snapped, “When I comfort you, you’ll know it.”“And how will I know?” Miro snapped back.“Because you’ll be comfortable, of course,” said Val-Jane.“In the meantime, please keep in mind that I’m not listening through the jewel in your ear now.I see only with these eyes and hear only with these ears.”This was not strictly true, of course.For many times a second, she felt the flowing sap, the unstinting welcome of the mothertrees as her aiua satisfied its hunger for largeness by touring the vast network of the pequenino philotes.And now and then, outside the mothertrees, she caught a glimmer of a thought, of a word, a phrase, spoken in the language of the fathertrees.Or was it their language? Rather it was the language behind the language, the underlying speech of the speechless.And whose was that other voice? I know you — you are of the kind that made me.I know your voice.said the Hive Queen in her mind.Jane was not prepared for the swelling of pride that glowed through her entire Val-body; she felt the physical effect of the emotion as Val, but her pride came from the praise of a hive-mother.I am a daughter of hive queens, she realized,and so it matters when she speaks to me, and tells me I have done well.And if I’m the hive queens’ daughter, I am Ender’s daughter, too, his daughter twice over, for they made my lifestuff partly from his mind, so I could be a bridge between them; and now I dwell in a body that also came from him, and whose memories are from a time when he dwelt here and lived this body’s life.I am his daughter, but once again I cannot speak to him.All this time, all these thoughts, and yet she did not show or even feel the slightest lapse of concentration on what she was doing with her computer on the starship circling the descolada planet.She was still Jane.It wasn’t the computerness of her that had allowed her, all these years, to maintain many layers of attention and focus on many tasks at once.It was her hive-queen nature that allowed this.said the Hive Queen in her mind.Which of you is speaking to me? asked Jane.Am I still myself, then? Will I have again all the powers I lost when the Starways Congress killed my old virtual body?And now she felt the sharp disappointment from a parent’s unconcern, a sinking feeling in the stomach, a kind of shame.But this was a human emotion; it arose from the Val-body, though it was in response to her relationship with her hive-queen mothers.Everything was more complicated — and yet it was simpler.Her feelings were now flagged by a body, which responded before she understoodwhat she felt herself.In the old days, she scarcely knew she had feelings.She had them, yes, even irrational responses, desires below the level of consciousness — these were attributes of all aiuas, when linked with others in any kind of life — but there had been no simple signals to tell her what her feelings were.How easy it was to be a human, with your emotions expressed on the canvas of your own body.And yet how hard, because you couldn’t hide your feelings from yourself half so easily.said the Hive Queen.Thank you, she said silently … and backed away.At dawn the sun came up over the mountain that was the spine of the island, so that the sky was light long before any sunlight touched the trees directly.The wind off the sea had cooled them in the night.Peter awoke with Wang-mu curled into the curve of his body, like shrimps lined up on a market rack.The closeness of her felt good; it felt familiar.Yet how could it be? He had never slept so close to her before.Was it some vestigial Ender memory? He wasn’t conscious of having any such memories.It had disappointed him, actually, when he realized it.He had thought that perhaps when his body had complete possession of the aiua, he would become Ender — he would have a lifetime of real memories instead of the paltry faked-up memories that had come with his body when Ender created it.No such luck.And yet he remembered sleeping with a woman curled against him.He remembered reaching across her, his arm like a sheltering bough.But he had never touched Wang-mu that way [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]