Part 12 (1/2)
A little girl who said her name was Deirdre brought him a wheeled plastic toy whose axle had come loose from its containing grooves. He forced it back into place, so the wheels could turn again, and Deirdre carried it off, after a machine had made her stand still until she said ”Thank you, Bart.”
Counting as well as he could in the continuing melee, Bart decided that there were twelve girls and twelve boys in the group.
After dinner, when the machines had begun to pack the kids off to their beds, the s.h.i.+p said to Bart: ”You may remain awake for a few more hours if you wish.”
He felt tired out, but not ready to sleep. ”Maybe I'll read a book.”
”I will provide some in your room.”
Stretched out on his bed, he stared at a book for awhile without reading, then put it down and asked the air: ”How long have I been here, in the s.h.i.+p?”
”I have edited your memories of your past life for good reason. Your past contains tragic and violent things. Nothing can be done about the past. We must work for the future and achieve a successful revised mission.”
”Are there any other people on board beside me and the little kids?”
”None. Much depends on you.”
He lay there looking at the cover ofThe Young Detectives Visit Earth. Although his bed was comfortable and he was tired he didn't think he was going to be able to sleep.
But he really had no choice.
Four.
Again, either his shorts and s.h.i.+rt were washed for him as he slept or it was a clean new outfit that he found on the chair. Breakfast as before, and he was on his way. The books had been removed and there was nothing else to do.
Two boys and two girls, grown bigger since he saw them last, were playing just inside the children's compound; Bart decided it couldn't be thought of as a nursery any more. As he approached the four caught sight of him and jumped with excitement, calling out to others, their voices coming to Bart faintly through the heavy gla.s.s doors.
As he entered it, Bart saw that their compound had been enlarged again. There were no more adult images in sight. Children came, hesitantly at first, from everywhere, some pedaling vehicles, others emerging from toy houses of multicolored blocks.
”Hi, I'm Bart,” he said to those who gathered close around. ”Anybody remember me?”
”The s.h.i.+p told us you were coming to see us today,” a bold little girl spoke as she pushed for-ward.
”Look, look, see the picture I drew?” It was a row of a dozen or so little circle-faces, each the same size, with lines for hair and nose and eyes, and one large face above. ”That's you.” In a corner the artist's name stood in big shaky letters: SHARON.
As the day went on Bart heard the names of all the other kids, though he remembered only a few. He spent his time in play with one group and another, and then read them all stories from a book about old Earth as they sat around him on the floor. When the s.h.i.+p directed, he saw them off to bed.
”Am I being a good enought parent, s.h.i.+p?”
”The revised mission plan is proceeding satisfactorily.”
Five.
All twenty-four of them were waiting for him excitedly just inside the heavy gla.s.s doors. This time they all remembered him.
”We're five now, Bart!”
”s.h.i.+p, says we can have a birthday party if we want-”
”-like Billy and Lynn-”
It took him a while to figure out that Billy and Lynn were characters in some children's story the s.h.i.+p showed them from time to time. Lynn and Billy were twins, back on Earth somewhere, and in one episode they had evidently enjoyed an elaborate birthday celebration, complete with cake, candy, and ice cream.
”How old are you, Bart?”
”Will you have a birthday with us?”
”Sure. If the s.h.i.+p will give us cake and things. Maybe we can have some real candles.”
”Yayy!”
So they had the party, the s.h.i.+p providing real candles and entrusting Bart with a lighter for them. The machines even brought forth small paper-wrapped toys as presents for all the five-year-olds.
”Din'choo get a present, Bart?”
”No, it's not my birthday.”
”When is?”
”In about a couple of months.” The precise, date was something else still sitting undisturbed in his memory, with blank holes knocked all around it. ”This was fun. Listen, maybe we can have another birthday party when I come back tomorrow.
You'll all be six, if the s.h.i.+p keeps me on the same schedule.”
”Tomorrow?”
”Well-next year. See, you and I are running on different schedules; I'm only awake one day every year.
I expect the s.h.i.+p'll put us on the same time schedule soon.”
”Next year?”