Echea

VIP免费

2024-11-20 0 0 102.28KB 51 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

Asimov's - Echea

Asimov's Logo

Kristine Kathryn Rusch: Echea

This story first appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction, July

1998. Nominated for Best Novelette.

I can close my eyes and she appears in my mind as she did

the moment I first saw her: tiny, fragile, with unnaturally pale

skin and slanted chocolate eyes. Her hair was white as the

moon on a cloudless evening. It seemed, that day, that her

eyes were the only spot of color on her haggard little face. She

was seven, but she looked three.

And she acted like nothing we had ever encountered before.

Or since.

We had three children and a good life. We were not impulsive,

but we did feel as if we had something to give. Our home was

large, and we had money; any child would benefit from that.

It seemed to be for the best.

It all started with the brochures. We saw them first at an

outdoor café near our home. We were having lunch when we

glimpsed floating dots of color, a fleeting child’s face. Both my

husband and I touched them only to have the displays open

before us:

Read these

Nebula-

nominated

stories

From Asimov's

Echea, by

Kristine

Kathryn Rusch

Fortune and

Misfortune, by

Lisa Goldstein

Izzy and the

Father of

Terror, by

Eliot Fintushel

Lethe, by

Walter Jon

Williams

Standing

Room Only,

by Karen Joy

Fowler

Winter Fire,

by Geoffrey A.

Landis

From Analog

file:///E|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Princess%20Delilah/Desktop/Isaac%20Asimov/Echea.htm (1 of 51)11/16/2005 12:04:37 PM

Asimov's - Echea

The blank vista of the Moon, the Earth over the horizon like a

giant blue and white ball, a looming presence, pristine and

healthy and somehow guilt-ridden. The Moon itself looked

barren, as it always had, until one focused. And then one saw

the pockmarks, the shattered dome open to the stars. In the

corner of the first brochure I opened, at the very edge of the

reproduction, were blood-splotches. They were scattered on

the craters and boulders, and had left fist-sized holes in the

dust. I didn’t need to be told what had caused it. We saw the

effects of high velocity rifles in low gravity every time we

downloaded the news.

The brochures began with the Moon, and ended with the faces

of refugees: pallid, worn, defeated. The passenger shuttles to

Earth had pretty much stopped. At first, those who could pay

came here, but by the time we got our brochures, Earth

passage had changed. Only those with living relatives were

able to return. Living relatives who were willing to

acknowledge the relationship–and had official hard copy to

prove it.

The rules were waived in the case of children, of orphans and

of underage war refuges. They were allowed to come to Earth

if their bodies could tolerate it, if they were willing to be

adopted, and if they were willing to renounce any claims they

had to Moon land.

They had to renounce the stars in order to have a home.

We picked her up in Sioux Falls, the nearest star shuttle stop

and detention center to our home. The shuttle stop was a

desolate place. It was designed as an embarkation point for

political prisoners and for star soldiers. It was built on the

rolling prairie, a sprawling complex with laser fences

shimmering in the sunlight. Guards stood at every entrance,

and several hovered above. We were led, by men with laser

rifles, into the main compound, a building finished almost a

century before, made of concrete and steel, functional, cold,

and ancient. Its halls smelled musty. The concrete flaked,

covering everything with a fine gray dust.

Echea had flown in on a previous shuttle. She had been in

detox and sick bay; through psychiatric exams and physical

screenings. We did not know we would get her until they

called our name.

Aurora in Four

Voices, by

Catherine

Asaro

Subscriptions

If you enjoyed

this sample

and want to

read more,

Asimov's

Science Fiction

offers you

another way to

subscribe to

our print

magazine. We

have a secure

server which

will allow you

to order a

subscription

online. There,

you can order

a subscription

by providing us

with your

name, address

and credit card

information.

Subscribe Now

"Echea" by

Kristine

Kathryn Rusch,

file:///E|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Princess%20Delilah/Desktop/Isaac%20Asimov/Echea.htm (2 of 51)11/16/2005 12:04:37 PM

Asimov's - Echea

We met her in a concrete room with no windows, shielded

against the sun, shielded against the world. The area had no

furniture.

A door opened and a child appeared.

Tiny, pale, fragile. Eyes as big as the moon itself, and darker

than the blackest night. She stood in the center of the room,

legs spread, arms crossed, as if she were already angry at us.

Around us, through us, between us, a computer voice

resonated:

This is Echea. She is yours. Please take her, and proceed

through the doors to your left. The waiting shuttle will take you

to your preassigned destination.

She didn’t move when she heard the voice, although I started.

My husband had already gone toward her. He crouched and

she glowered at him.

"I don’t need you," she said.

"We don’t need you either," he said. "But we want you."

The hard set to her chin eased, just a bit. "Do you speak for

her?" she asked, indicating me.

"No," I said. I knew what she wanted. She wanted

reassurance early that she wouldn’t be entering a private war

zone as difficult and devastating as the one she left. "I speak

for myself. I’d like it if you came home with us, Echea."

She stared at us both then, not relinquishing power, not

changing that forceful stance. "Why do you want me?" she

asked. "You don’t even know me."

"But we will," my husband said.

"And then you’ll send me back," she said, her tone bitter. I

heard the fear in it.

"You won’t go back," I said. "I promise you that."

1998 by

Kristine

Kathryn Rusch,

used by

permission of

the author

file:///E|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Princess%20Delilah/Desktop/Isaac%20Asimov/Echea.htm (3 of 51)11/16/2005 12:04:37 PM

Asimov's - Echea

It was an easy promise to make. None of the children, even if

their adoptions did not work, returned to the Moon.

A bell sounded overhead. They had warned us about this,

warned us that we would have to move when we heard it.

"It’s time to leave," my husband said. "Get your things."

Her first look was shock and betrayal, quickly masked. I wasn’t

even sure I had seen it. And then she narrowed those lovely

chocolate eyes. "I’m from the Moon," she said with a sarcasm

that was foreign to our natural daughters. "We have no things."

What we knew of the Moon Wars on Earth was fairly slim. The

news vids were necessarily vague, and I had never had the

patience for a long lesson in Moon history.

The shorthand for the Moon situation was this: the Moon’s

economic resources were scarce. Some colonies, after

several years of existence, were self-sufficient. Others were

not. The shipments from Earth, highly valuable, were

designated to specific places and often did not get there.

Piracy, theft, and murder occurred to gain the scarce

resources. Sometimes skirmishes broke out. A few times, the

fighting escalated. Domes were damaged, and in the worst of

the fighting, two colonies were destroyed.

At the time, I did not understand the situation at all. I took at

face value a cynical comment from one of my professors:

colonies always struggle for dominance when they are away

from the mother country. I had even repeated it at parties.

I had not understood that it oversimplified one of the most

complex situations in our universe.

I also had not understood the very human cost of such events.

That is, until I had Echea.

***

We had ordered a private shuttle for our return, but it wouldn’t

have mattered if we were walking down a public street. I

attempted to engage Echea, but she wouldn’t talk. She stared

file:///E|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Princess%20Delilah/Desktop/Isaac%20Asimov/Echea.htm (4 of 51)11/16/2005 12:04:37 PM

Asimov's - Echea

out the window instead, and became visibly agitated as we

approached home.

Lake Nebagamon is a small lake, one of the hundreds that dot

northern Wisconsin. It was a popular resort for people from

nearby Superior. Many had summer homes, some dating from

the late 1800s. In the early 2000s, the summer homes were

sold off. Most lots were bought by families who already owned

land there, and hated the crowding at Nebagamon. My family

bought fifteen lots. My husband’s bought ten. Our marriage,

some joked, was one of the most important local mergers of

the day.

Sometimes I think that it was no joke. It was expected. There

is affection between us, of course, and a certain warmth. But

no real passion.

The passion I once shared with another man–a boy actually–

was so long ago that I remember it in images, like a vid seen

decades ago, or a painting made from someone else’s life.

When my husband and I married, we acted like an acquiring

conglomerate. We tore down my family’s summer home

because it had no potential or historical value, and we built

onto my husband’s. The ancient house became an estate with

a grand lawn that rolled down to the muddy water. Evenings

we sat on the verandah and listened to the cicadas until full

dark. Then we stared at the stars and their reflections in our

lake. Sometimes we were blessed with the northern lights, but

not too often.

This is the place we brought Echea. A girl who had never

really seen green grass or tall trees; who had definitely never

seen lakes or blue sky or Earth’s stars. She had, in her brief

time in North Dakota, seen what they considered Earth–the

brown dust, the fresh air. But her exposure had been limited,

and had not really included sunshine or nature itself.

We did not really know how this would affect her.

There were many things we did not know.

Our girls were lined up on the porch in age order: Kally, the

twelve-year-old, and the tallest, stood near the door. Susan,

the middle child, stood next to her, and Anne stood by herself

file:///E|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Princess%20Delilah/Desktop/Isaac%20Asimov/Echea.htm (5 of 51)11/16/2005 12:04:37 PM

Asimov's - Echea

near the porch. They were properly stair-stepped, three years

between them, a separation considered optimal for more than

a century now. We had followed the rules in birthing them, as

well as in raising them.

Echea was the only thing out of the norm.

Anne, the courageous one, approached us as we got off the

shuttle. She was small for six, but still bigger than Echea.

Anne also blended our heritages perfectly–my husband’s

bright blue eyes and light hair with my dark skin and exotic

features. She would be our beauty some day, something my

husband claimed was unfair, since she also had the brains.

"Hi," she said, standing in the middle of the lawn. She wasn’t

looking at us. She was looking at Echea.

Echea stopped walking. She had been slightly ahead of me.

By stopping, she forced me to stop too.

"I’m not like them," she said. She was glaring at my daughters.

"I don’t want to be."

"You don’t have to be," I said softly.

"But you can be civil," my husband said.

Echea frowned at him, and in that moment, I think, their

relationship was defined.

"I suppose you’re the pampered baby," she said to Anne.

Anne grinned.

"That’s right," she said. "I like it better than being the spoiled

brat."

I held my breath. "Pampered baby" wasn’t much different from

"spoiled brat" and we all knew it.

"Do you have a spoiled brat?" Echea asked.

"No," Anne said.

file:///E|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Princess%20Delilah/Desktop/Isaac%20Asimov/Echea.htm (6 of 51)11/16/2005 12:04:37 PM

Asimov's - Echea

Echea looked at the house, the lawn, the lake, and whispered.

"You do now."

Later, my husband told me he heard this as a declaration. I

heard it as awe. My daughters saw it as something else

entirely.

"I think you have to fight Susan for it," Anne said.

"Do not!" Susan shouted from the porch.

"See?" Anne said. Then she took Echea’s hand and led her up

the steps.

That first night we awakened to screams. I came out of a deep

sleep, already sitting up, ready to do battle. At first, I thought

my link was on; I had lulled myself to sleep with a bedtime

story. My link had an automatic shut-off, but I sometimes

forgot to set it. With all that had been happening the last few

days, I believed I might have done so again.

Then I noticed my husband sitting up as well, groggily rubbing

the sleep out of his eyes.

The screams hadn’t stopped. They were piercing, shrill. It took

me a moment to recognize them.

Susan.

I was out of bed before I realized it, running down the hall

before I had time to grab my robe. My nightgown flapped

around me as I ran. My husband was right behind me. I could

hear his heavy steps on the hardwood floor.

When we reached Susan’s room, she was sitting on the

window seat, sobbing. The light of the full moon cut across the

cushions and illuminated the rag rugs and the old-fashioned

pink spread.

I sat down beside her and put my arm around her. Her frail

shoulders were shaking, and her breath was coming in short

gasps. My husband crouched before her, taking her hands in

his.

file:///E|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Princess%20Delilah/Desktop/Isaac%20Asimov/Echea.htm (7 of 51)11/16/2005 12:04:37 PM

Asimov's - Echea

"What happened, sweetheart?" I asked.

"I–I–I saw him," she said. "His face exploded, and the blood

floated down."

"Were you watching vids again before sleep?" my husband

asked in a sympathetic tone. We both knew if she said yes, in

the morning she would get yet another lecture about being

careful about what she put in her brain before it rested.

"No!" she wailed.

She apparently remembered those early lectures too.

"Then what caused this?" I asked.

"I don’t know! " she said and burst into sobs again. I cradled

her against me, but she didn’t loosen her grip on my

husband’s hands.

"After his blood floated, what happened, baby?" my husband

asked.

"Someone grabbed me," she said against my gown. "And

pulled me away from him. I didn’t want to go."

"And then what?" My husband’s voice was still soft.

"I woke up," she said, and her breath hitched.

I put my hand on her head and pulled her closer. "It’s all right,

sweetheart," I said. "It was just a dream."

"But it was so real," she said.

"You’re here now," my husband said. "Right here. In your

room. And we’re right here with you."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep," she said. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," I said, knowing it was better for her to sleep than be

afraid of it. "Tell you what, though. I’ll program House to tell

you a soothing story, with a bit of music and maybe a few

file:///E|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Princess%20Delilah/Desktop/Isaac%20Asimov/Echea.htm (8 of 51)11/16/2005 12:04:37 PM

Asimov's - Echea

moving images. What do you say?"

"Dr. Seuss," she said.

"That’s not always soothing," my husband said, obviously

remembering how the House’s Cat in the Hat program gave

Kally a terror of anything feline.

"It is to Susan," I said gently, reminding him. In her third year,

she played Green Eggs and Ham all night, the House’s voice

droning on and on, making me thankful that our room was at

the opposite end of the hall.

But she was three no longer, and she hadn’t wanted Dr. Seuss

for years. The dream had really frightened her.

"If you have any more trouble, baby," my husband said to her,

"you come and get us, all right?"

She nodded. He squeezed her hands, then I picked her up

and carried her to bed. My husband pulled back the covers.

Susan clung to me as I eased her down. "Will I go back there

if I close my eyes?" she asked.

"No," I said. "You’ll listen to House and sleep deeply. And if

you dream at all, it’ll be about nice things, like sunshine on

flowers, and the lake in summertime."

"Promise?" she asked, her voice quavering.

"Promise," I said. Then I removed her hands from my neck

and kissed each of them before putting them on the coverlet. I

kissed her forehead. My husband did the same, and as we

were leaving, she was ordering up the House reading program.

As I pulled the door closed, I saw the opening images of

Green Eggs and Ham flicker across the wall.

The next morning, everything seemed fine. When I came

down to breakfast, the chef had already placed the food on the

table, each dish on its own warming plate. The scrambled

eggs had the slightly runny look that indicated they had sat

more than an hour–not even the latest design in warming

plates could stop that. In addition, there was French toast, and

file:///E|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Princess%20Delilah/Desktop/Isaac%20Asimov/Echea.htm (9 of 51)11/16/2005 12:04:37 PM

Asimov's - Echea

Susan’s favorites, waffles. The scent of fresh blueberry

muffins floated over it all, and made me smile. The household

staff had gone to great lengths to make Echea feel welcome.

My husband was already in his usual spot, e-conferencing

while he sipped his coffee and broke a muffin apart with his

fingers. His plate, showing the remains of eggs and ham, was

pushed off to the side.

"Morning," I said as I slipped into my usual place on the other

side of the table. It was made of oak and had been in my

family since 1851, when my mother’s people brought it over

from Europe as a wedding present for my many-great

grandparents. The housekeeper kept it polished to a shine,

and she only used linen placemats to protect it from the effects

of food.

My husband acknowledged me with a blueberry-stained hand

as laughter made me look up. Kally came in, her arm around

Susan. Susan still didn’t look herself. She had deep circles

under her eyes, which meant that Green Eggs and Ham hadn’t

quite done the trick. She was too old to come get us–I had

known that when we left her last night–but I hoped she hadn’t

spent the rest of the night listening to House, trying to find

comfort in artificial voices and imagery.

The girls were still smiling when they saw me.

"Something funny?" I asked

"Echea," Kally said. "Did you know someone owned her dress

before she did?"

No, I hadn’t known that, but it didn’t surprise me. My

daughters, on the other hand, had owned only the best.

Sometimes their knowledge of life–or lack thereof–shocked

me.

"It’s not an unusual way for people to save money," I said. "But

it’ll be the last pre-owned dress she’ll have."

Mom? It was Anne, e-mailing me directly. The instant prompt

appeared before my left eye. Can you come up here?

file:///E|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Princess%20Delilah/Desktop/Isaac%20Asimov/Echea.htm (10 of 51)11/16/2005 12:04:37 PM

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

展开>> 收起<<

Echea.pdf

共51页,预览10页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

Echea

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: