JoÃo chose Aaor. He accepted help from it and talked to it and caressed its small breasts once he realized that neither it nor anyone else minded this. The breasts did not represent true mammary glands. Aaor would probably lose them when it metamorphosed. Most constructs did, even when they became female. But JoÃo liked them. Aaor simply enjoyed the contact.
At night, JoÃo endured me. I think his greatest shame was that his body did not find me as repellent as he wanted to believe I was. This frightened him as much as it shamed him. Perhaps it told him what I had already realized—that given time he could learn to accept me, to enjoy me very much. I think he hated me more for that than for anything.
In twenty-one days JoÃo’s leg had grown. I had made him eat huge amounts of food—had stimulated his appetite so that he could not stubbornly refuse meals. Also, I chemically encouraged him to be sedentary. He needed all his energy to grow his leg.
I had grown breasts myself, and developed an even more distinctly Human female appearance. I neither directed my body nor attempted to control it. It developed no diseases, no abnormal growths or changes. It seemed totally focused on JoÃo, who ignored it during the day, but caressed it at night and investigated it before I put him to sleep.
I kept him with me for three extra days to help him regain his strength and to be absolutely certain the leg had stopped growing and worked as well as his old one. It was smooth and soft-skinned and very pale. The foot was so tender that I folded lengths of Lo cloth and pressed them together to make sandals for him.
“I haven’t worn anything on my feet since long before you were born,” he told me.
“Wear these back to your home or you’ll damage the new foot badly,” I said.
“You’re really going to let me go?”
“Tomorrow.” It was our twenty-fifth night together. He still pretended to ignore me during the day, but it had apparently become so much trouble for him to manufacture hatred against me at night. He accepted what I did for him and he did not insult me. He didn’t insult anyone. Once I found him telling Aaor, Lilith, and Tino about SÃo Paulo, where he had been born. He had been only nineteen when the war came. He had been a student. He would have become a doctor like his father. “People shook their heads over the war at first,” he told them. “They said it would kill off the north—Europe, Asia, North America. They said the northerners had lost their minds. No one realized we would suffer from sickness, hunger, blindness….”
He had known I was listening. He hadn’t cared, but he would not have volunteered to tell me anything of his past. He answered my questions, but he volunteered nothing.
The name of his resister village was SÃo Paulo, in memory of his home city, which had once existed far to the east. He had just traveled back to the site of the city—through thick forests and hostile people, across many rivers. Before the war and the coming of the Oankali, SÃo Paulo was a city of millions of Humans and the forests of buildings, large and small. But what the war and its aftermath had not destroyed, the Oankali fed to their shuttles. Shuttles ate whatever they landed on. There were a few ruins left, but the forest now covered most of what had been SÃo Paulo.
JoÃo had talked about his past to Ahajas and Dichaan as well. He avoided Nikanj, at least. I could accept everything he did as long as he avoided Nikanj.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated now, lying beside me. He moved warningly, then sat up. I had told him always to move a little to warn me that he intended to change position or get up—in case I had sensory tentacles linked into him. He had ignored me once. The pain of that had made him scream aloud and roll himself into a tight fetal knot for some time, sweating and gasping. He hurt me as badly as he hurt himself, but I managed not to react as much. I never said anything, but he always made me a small, warning move after that.
He looked down at me. “I didn’t believe you.”
“Your leg is complete and strong. It’s tender. You need to protect it. But you’re whole. Why shouldn’t you leave?”
His mouth said nothing. His face said he wasn’t sure he wanted to go. He wasn’t even sure he appreciated my telling him he could go. But his pride kept him silent.
“All right!” he said finally. “Tomorrow I go. Tomorrow morning.”
I drew him down to our pallet and kissed his face, then his mouth. “I won’t be glad to see you go,” I said. “If you were younger …” I rubbed the back of his neck. My underarms didn’t itch. They hurt.
“I didn’t know my age was important,” he said. He sighed. “I shouldn’t care. I should be grateful. I haven’t changed my opinion … of ooloi.”
“You have, I think.”
“No. I’ve only changed my feelings toward you. I wouldn’t have believed I could do even that.”
“Before you leave, go to Nikanj. Have it check you to be certain that I haven’t missed anything.”
“No!”
“It will only touch you for a moment. Only for a moment. Come to me afterward … to say goodbye.”
“No. I can’t let that thing touch me. I would rather trust you.”
“It’s one of my parents.”
“I know. I mean no offense. But I cannot do that.”
“I won’t send you away to die from some mistake of mine that could have been corrected. You will let it touch you.”
Silence.
“Do it for my sake, JoÃo. Don’t leave me wondering whether I’ve killed you.”
He sighed. After a moment, he nodded.
I put him to sleep. He did not realize it, but I was responsible for strengthening his aversion to Nikanj. No male or female who spent as much time with an ooloi as he had with me would feel comfortable touching another ooloi. JoÃo was not bound to me, but he was chemically oriented toward me and away from others. And adult ooloi could seduce him from me if he truly disliked me and was interested in finding another ooloi. But otherwise, he would stay with me. Lilith had begun this way with Nikanj.
The next morning, I took JoÃo to Nikanj. As I had promised, Nikanj touched him briefly, then let him go.
“You’ve done nothing wrong with him,” he told me. “I wish he could stay and keep you from becoming a frog again.” I was grateful that it spoke in English and JoÃo did not understand.
I gave JoÃo food and a hammock and my machete. He had lost whatever gear he had had with him when he fell.
“There are older Oankali who would mate with you,” I told him. “They could give you pleasure. You could have children.”
“Which of them would look like someone I used to dream about when I was young?” he asked.
“I don’t really look like this, JoÃo. You know I don’t. I didn’t look this way when we met.”
“You look like this for me,” he said. “Tell me who else could do that?”
I shook my head. “No one.”
“You see?”
“Then go to Mars. Find someone who does really look this way. Have Human children.”
“I’ve thought about Mars. It seemed a fantasy, though. To live on another world. …”
“Oankali have lived on many other worlds. Why shouldn’t Humans live on at least one other?”
“Why should the Oankali have the one world that’s ours?”
“They do have it. And you can’t take it back from them. You can stay here and die uselessly, resisting. You can go to Mars and help found a new Human society. Or you can join us in the trade. We will go to the stars eventually. If you join us, your children will go with us.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been among Oankali before. We all have, we resisters. Oankali never made me doubt what I should do.” He smiled. “Before I met you, Jodahs, I knew myself much better.”
He went away undecided. “I don’t even know what I want from you,” he said as he was leaving. “It isn’t the usual thing, certainly, but I don’t want to leave you.”
But, of course, he did leave.