Part 39 (1/2)
They were hard workers, these Fognosers (as Veg called them), and their children helped. They used hands for brute work, and prehensile snouts for fine work. They harvested certain types of mist for foods; most varieties tasted rather like scented soap but were nutritious.
”Now I remember,” Tamme said. ”We met these people once, and you showed them the hexaflexagon.”
”Yeah. They have seen many Vegs and many Tammes, but I was only the second one who happened to show the hex. Lucky I did because they remembered us. I mean, distinguished us from all the others just like us and helped. I've been making hexaflexagons like crazy; that's how I repay them.”
”And how shall I repay you?” she asked.
He shook his head. ”I wasn't doing this for pay.”
She gripped his hand. ”Please -- I need you. I want to please you. What can I do?” Oh, G.o.d -- she was pleading, and that would drive him off.
He looked at her. ”You need me?”
”Maybe that's the wrong word,” she said desperately.
His mouth was grim. ”When you use a word you don't understand, just manipulate -- yes, it's the wrong word!”
”I'm sorry!” she cried. ”I won't use it again. Only don't be angry, don't turn away...”
He held her by the shoulders at arm's length. ”Are you crying?”
”No!” But it was useless. ”Yes.” If only she hadn't been so weak physically and emotionally! Strong men didn't appreciate that.
”Why?”
What was left but the truth? ”When you are near me, I feel safe, secure. Without you, it is -- nightmare. My past -- ”
He smiled. ”I think you have already repaid me.”
What did he mean? ”I don't understand -- ”
”You had a brain injury on top of everything else. I guess it gave you back all those erased memories, right back to -- Bunny. And it broke up your conditioning. So now you can have nightmares from your subconscious, you can feel insecure -- that's why you need someone.”
”Yes. I am sorry. I am not strong.” Like a child, weak; like a child, to be taken care of.
He paused, chewing meditatively on his lower lip. Then: ”Do you remember our conversation once about what 'Quilon had that you didn't?”
She concentrated. ”Yes.”
”Now you have it, too.”
”But I'm weak. I can't stand alone, and even if I could -- ”
He looked at her intently, not answering. Her ability to read emotions had suffered, perhaps because her own were in such disarray. She could not plumb him for reaction, could not be guided by it. She was on her own.
”Even if I could,” she finished with difficulty, ”I would not want to.”
Then with an incredible brilliance it burst upon her.