“No, never!” Mata said reaching out and taking Madonette’s hands in hers. “It has just been so long since we discussed these things. Decisions were taken that seemed excellent at the time. Some of us have had reservations since, but, well nothing much can really be done at this point . . .”
Her voice ran down and she emptied her wineglass. She was upset and I felt sorry for pinning her down like that. I yawned.
“You’re right,” I said. “I think rest and recuperation come first.”
Mata shook her head in a firm no. “Madonette is right. These decisions must be faced, discussed. Approximately half of the pregnancies are male, male fetuses. This is determined in the first few weeks.” She saw Madonette’s worried expression and shook her head again.
“No-please hear me out and don’t think the worst. All healthy pregnancies are brought to term. In the case of the males the bottle banks are used-”
“Bottle banks! Isn’t that an unfortunate term?”
“Perhaps in your society, Jim. But here it simply signifies highly perfected artificial wombs. Technically superior if truth be known. There are no spontaneous miscarriages, no effects of bad diet and so forth. And at the end of nine months the healthy male babies are-”
“Decanted?”
“No, born. As soon as they are viable the men take over. Specially trained nursemen who supervise the healthy growth of the boys. Their education and assimilation into their society.”
“Very interesting,” I said, for it certainly was. I hesitated about the next question, but curiosity was gnawing away and could not be suppressed. “Even more interesting is where do the men think the babies come from?”
“Why don’t you ask them?” Mata said coldly and I realized that this interview was at an end.
“Now I really am tired-to be continued,” I breathed, dropping back into the couch. “Is there a doctor in the house?”
This kicked a lot of maternal instinct into gear and extracted a great deal of attention. I didn’t feel the injection that knocked me out. Or the one that brought me to much later. The women were gone and we were alone. Madonette was holding my hand. Which she dropped with slow deliberation when she saw that my eyes were open.
“The good news, stalwart Jim, is that none of your bones are broken. Just a lot of bruising. Better news is that the treatment for the bruises is under way. Best news is that Steengo is in pretty good shape, all things considered, and wants to see you.”
“Bring him in.”
“In a moment. While you were sleeping I talked to Mata. She told me a lot more about how things work around here.”
“Did you find out about the babies?”
“She really is a nice person, Jim. Everyone here has been very nice to me and . . .”
“But you are beginning to have some reservations?”
She nodded. “More than a few. Things look so nice on the surface-and maybe they are. But it is the babies that bother me. I am sure that they are well taken care of physically, even mentally. But to believe a stupid myth!”
“Which one of the stupid myths going about is the one that bothers you?”
“Spontaneous creation would you believe! All the males gather around Iron John’s pool for a ceremony of life. The golden balls drift up through the water and are seized. And each one contains a healthy happy baby! And grown men believe that nonsense!”
“Grown men-and women-have believed worse nonsense down through the ages. This myth was a common one for the so-called lower forms of life. Flies being spontaneously created in manure heaps. Because no one bothered making the connection between grubs growing there and flies laying eggs. All of the creation myths of mankind, all the gods dropping down and molding clay and breathing life, the virgin births and the like. They are all nonsense once they are examined. But we have to start somewhere I suppose. I’m just not happy where some of these people are ending up.”
There was a rattle and a thump as the door was opened. Floyd pushed in the wheelchair and Steengo lifted a whitewrapped hand.