For Love of Mother-Not - Alan Dean Foster [70]
“Your adopted boy,” Nyassa-lee said. While the small Oriental spoke, Mother Mastiff noted that the other two were studying her the way a collector might watch a bug on a park bench. That made her even madder, and the anger helped to put a damper on her fear. “I wouldn’t make things any easier for you people if ye promised me half the wealth of Terra.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s only what we have come to expect,” Nyassa-lee said, turning icy once again. “Have you heard of the Meliorare Society?”
Mother Mastiff shook her head, too angry to cry, which is what she really wanted to do. Names, words they threw at her, all meaningless.
“We’re part of an experiment,” the Oriental explained, “an experiment which began on Terra many years ago. We are not only scientists, we are activists. We believe that the true task of science is not only to study that which exists but to forge onward and bring into existence that which does not exist but eventually will. We determined not to stand still, nor to let nature do so, either.”
Mother Mastiff shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Think,” Nyassa-lee urged her, warming to her subject, “what is there in Commonwealth society today that could most stand improvement? The government?” A bitter, derogatory laugh sounded behind her, from Haithness. “Not the government, then. What about the ships that carry us from star to star? No? Language, then, an improvement on Terranglo or symbospeech? What about music or architecture?”
Mother Mastiff simply stared at the woman ranting before her. She was quite certain now, quite certain. These three were all as insane as a brain-damaged Yax’m.
“No, none of those things!” Nyassa-lee snapped. It was terrible to see such complete assurance in one so diminutive. “It’s us. We.” She tapped her sternum. “Humankind. And the means for our improvement lie within.” Her hand went to her head. “In here, in abilities and areas of our mind still not properly developed.
“We and the other members of the Society decided many years ago that something could and should be done about that. We formed a cover organization to fool superstitious regulators. In secret, we were able to select certain human ova, certain sperm, and work carefully with them. Our planning was minute, our preparations extensive. Through microsurgical techniques, we were able to alter the genetic code of our humans-to-be prior to womb implantation. The result was to be, will be, a better version of mankind.”
Mother Mastiff gaped at her. Nyassa-lee sighed and turned to her companions. “As I feared, all this is beyond her meager comprehension.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Brora said. “What I don’t understand is why you trouble to try?”
“It would be easier,” Nyassa-lee said.
“Easier for her, or for you?” Haithness wondered. The smaller woman did not reply. “It won’t matter after the operation, anyway.” At these words, the fine hair on the back of Mother Mastiff’s neck began to rise.
“It might,” Nyassa-lee insisted. She looked back down at Mother Mastiff, staring hard into those old eyes. “Don’t you understand yet, old woman? Your boy, your adopted son: he was one of our subjects.”
“No,” Mother Mastiff whispered, though even as she mouthed the word, she knew the woman’s words must be true. “What—what happened to your experiment?”
“All the children were provided with attention, affection, education, and certain special training. The majority of the subjects displayed nothing unusual in the way of ability or talent. They were quite normal in every way. We proceeded with great care and caution, you see.
“A few of the subjects developed abnormally. That is in the nature of science, unfortunately. We must accept the good together with the bad. However, in light of our imminent success, those failures were quite justified.” She sounded as if she were trying to reassure herself as much as Mother Mastiff.
“A few of the children, a very