Heinlein, Robert A – Friday

(That plastic spoon in the crèche was not discrimination but to protect me. The first time I used a fork I stabbed my lip because I had not yet learned to slow my moves to match unenhanced persons.)

There may not be a word for the expression on Brian’s face.

“Is that enough?” I asked him. “No, probably not. My dear, clasp hands with me.” I shoved out my right hand.

He hesitated, then took it. I let him control the grasp, then I started slowly to tighten down. “Don’t hurt yourself, dear,” I warned him. “Let me know when to stop.”

Brian is no sissy and can take quite a bit of pain. I was about to slack off, not wishing to break any bones in his hand, when he suddenly said, “Enough!”

I immediately slacked off and started to massage his hand gently with both of mine. “I did not enjoy hurting you, darling, but I had to show you that I am telling the truth. Ordinarily I am careful not to display unusual reflexes or unusual strength. But I do need them in the work I am in. On several occasions enhanced strength and

speed have kept me alive. I am most careful not to use either one unless forced to. Now-is there anything more needed to prove to you that I am what I say I am? I am enhanced in Other ways but speed and strength are easiest to demonstrate.”

He answered, “It’s time we started home.”

On the way home we didn’t exchange a dozen words. I am very fond of the luxury of horse-and-buggy rides. But that day I would happily have used something noisy and mechanical-but fast!

For the next few days Brian avoided me; I saw him only at the dinner table. Came a morning when Anita said to me, “Marjorie dear, I’m going into town on a few errands. Will you come along and help me?” Of course I said yes.

She made several stops in the general neighborhood of Gloucester Street and Durham. There was nothing in which she needed my help. I concluded that she simply wanted company and I was pleased by it. Anita is awfully nice to be with as long as one doesn’t cross her will.

Finished, we strolled down Cambridge Terrace along the bank of the Avon and on into Hagley Park and the botanic gardens. She picked a sunny spot where we could watch the birds, and got out her knitting. We talked of nothing in particular for a while, or simply sat.

We had been there about half an hour when her phone buzzed. She took it out of her knitting bag, put the button to her ear. “Yes?” Then she added, “Thank you. Off,” and put the phone away without offering to tell me who had called her. Her privilege.

Although she did speak of it indirectly: “Tell me, Marjorie, do you ever feel regret? Or a sense of guilt?”

“Why, I do sometimes. Should I? Over what?” I searched my brain as I thought that I had been unusually careful not to upset Anita.

“Over the way you have deceived us and cheated us.”

“What?”

“Don’t play innocent. I’ve never had to deal with a creature not of God’s Law before. I was not sure that the concept of sin and guilt was one you could understand. Not that it matters, I suppose, now

that you are unmasked. The family is asking for annulment at once; Brian is seeing Mr. Justice Ridgley today.”

I sat up very straight. “On what grounds? I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“Indeed. You forget that, under our laws, a nonhuman cannot enter into a marriage contract with human beings.”

VIII

An hour later I boarded the shuttle for Auckland and then had time to consider my folly.

For almost three months, ever since the night I had discussed it with Boss, I had for the first time been feeling easy about my “human” status. He had told me that I was “as human as Mother Eve” and that I could safely tell anyone that I was an AP because I would not be believed.

Boss was almost right. But he had not counted on my making a really determined effort to prove that I was not “human” under Ennzedd law.