“Stop that,” said Peter, pretending to be teasing but really wanting her to stop. “I remember we bantered about that, and I bragged I guess, but … well I don’t feel that way now. Is that part of having all of Ender in me? I know I don’t understand people all that well. You looked away, you shrugged when I said I was bound up with you. That hurt my feelings, you know.”
“And why is that?”
“Oh, you can ask why and I can’t, are those the rules now?”
“Those have always been the rules,” said Wang-mu. “You just never obeyed them.”
“Well it hurt my feelings because I wanted you to be glad that I’m tied up with you and you with me.”
“Are you glad?”
“Well it only saved my life, I think I’d have to be the king of the stupid people not to at least find it convenient!”
“Smell,” she said, suddenly leaping to her feet.
She is so young, he thought.
And then, rising to his own feet, he was surprised to realize that he, too, was young, his body lithe and responsive.
And then he was surprised again to realize that Peter never remembered being any other way. It was Ender who had experienced an older body, one that got stiff when sleeping on the ground, a body that did not rise so easily to its feet. I do have Ender in me. I have the memories of his body. Why not the memories of his mind?
Perhaps because this brain has only the map of Peter’s memories in it. All the rest of them are lurking just out of reach. And maybe I’ll stumble on them now and then, connect them up, map new roads to get to them.
In the meantime, he was still getting up, standing beside Wang-mu, sniffing the air with her; and he was surprised again to realize that both activities had had his full attention. He had been thinking continuously of Wang-mu, of smelling what she smelled, wondering all the while whether he could just rest his hand on that small frail shoulder that seemed to need a hand the size of his to rest upon it; and at the same time, he had been engaged completely in speculation on how and whether he would be able to recover Ender’s memories.
I could never do that before, thought Peter. And yet I must have been doing it ever since this body and the Valentine body were created. Concentrating on three things at once, in fact, not two.
But I wasn’t strong enough to think of three things. One of them always sagged. Valentine for a while. Then Ender, until that body died. But two things — I can think of two things at once. Is this remarkable? Or is it something that many humans could do, if only they had some occasion to learn?
What kind of vanity is this! thought Peter. Why should I care whether I’m unique in this ability? Except that I always did pride myself on being smarter and more capable than the people around me. Didn’t let myself say it aloud, of course, or even admit it to myself, but be honest with yourself now, Peter! It’s good to be smarter than other people. And if I can think of two things at once, while they can only think of one, why not take some pleasure in it!
Of course, thinking of two things is rather useless if both trains of thought are dumb. For while he played with questions of vanity and his competitive nature, he had also been concentrating on Wang-mu, and his hand had indeed reached out and touched her, and for a moment she leaned back against him, accepting his touch, until her head rested against his chest. And then, without warning or any provocation that he could think of, she suddenly pulled away from him and began to stride toward the Samoans who were gathered around Malu on the beach.
“What did I do?” asked Peter.
She turned around, looking puzzled. “You did just fine!” she said. “I didn’t slap you or put my knee in your kintamas, did I? But it’s breakfast — Malu is praying and they’ve got more food than they had two nights ago, when we thought we’d die from eating it!”