fellow council members. ‘Am I to believe that this is seriously to be debated?’
My mother said nothing, exchanging a look with Caige which I could not decode. Greye maintained his cool smile, though I knew he took no pleasure in engaging with Caige. They were not friends.
‘We made them a promise,’ he said. ‘The erta do not break promises.’
Another laugh from Caige, just as short but this time higher, approaching the tone of a gull’s caw.
‘Neither do we willingly destroy what we have just spent centuries repairing.’ A glance at my mother again. ‘If humanity is allowed to return to this planet, they will behave exactly as they did before. There is no question of it.’
‘We do not know that for sure,’ said my mother. There was trouble in her voice. Hesitation. Everything in her diction, from the unusual frequency upon which she hovered to the lack of moisture in her throat, suggested discomfort.
‘And they may learn from their mistakes if we show them the consequences,’ said Greye. ‘They deserve a second chance, Caige, and besides, you cannot deny that they were unique as a species.’
‘The only thing that made them unique,’ spat Caige, ‘was their propensity to fail and destroy everything in their path. They deserve nothing but their oblivion.’
‘They created us,’ said Greye, turning to face him. ‘Perhaps they are capable of more than you gave them credit for.’
‘One of them created us.’ Caige’s voice shook as he closed the gap between them. ‘And I was there, Greye. I know exactly what they are capable of. Benedikt, you too.’
Benedikt looked up at his father, eyes darting, uneasy. The room fell frigid. This discord, this opposition—it was not natural.
‘Council members, please,’ said my mother. Caige and Greye withdrew back to their places. She paced the stone floor in front of them, hands clasped, casting shadows with each sweep of her robe.
‘Each of you knew from birth the unbendable nature of Homo sapiens, and how the success of our work relied on their removal. The question we now face is: do we allow them back into existence, and risk the ruin of everything we have achieved, or do we leave the planet safe, but with our promise broken?’
‘Promise,’ muttered Caige. ‘A promise to a dead ape! Who is there to mourn us breaking it? Who would know?’
‘We would know,’ said Greye. ‘We would know and we would carry it with us. It would be a heavy burden.’
‘It would be no burden at all,’ said Caige, stepping from the line. Greye followed and faced him.
‘I disagree.’
The air shivered with gasps and mumbles. These were troubling words indeed.
Never once had I witnessed two erta disagree, not even in the most complex and intense periods of our work. The outcome of every decision we had faced had been dictated by the application of logic. To disagree was ludicrous: if a decision could not be reached then it meant only one thing: not enough data. Surely this was obvious.
Caige met Greye face-to-face. His words were slow and dark.
‘Really. And what do you suggest we do about this…disagreement?’ He swung to the line. ‘Council?’ And to the room. ‘Anyone?’
I watched this laughable display and the looks of concern it brought to the faces around me with utter bewilderment. I might have even smiled, had I not been so dismayed by the preposterousness of it all. Why could they not see? Was it because our purpose had been fulfilled? Is this what happens when the work is done? This inability to grasp basic facts? This weakening of the mind?
Whatever was happening, it had to be stopped.
So I raised my hand.
My mother squinted through the murmuring crowd.
‘Ima? Do you have something to say?’
Caige’s eyes narrowed. Benedikt’s followed. The room hushed.
‘I have an idea,’ I said.
Now, in hindsight, I suspect that it may not have been an altogether good one.
— FOUR —
THE FOLLOWING DAY I met my mother at the lake. It was summer and the ducks were numerous. We sat on a stone seat by the water’s edge, as bees darted among the wildflowers and spring’s young starlings swooped between the branches of the cherry trees.
‘Have the council reached a decision?’ I said.
‘We have, and I am afraid your idea is too dangerous.’
‘I see.’
‘Introducing a small population of Homo sapiens into a controlled environment could lead to results which are, shall we say, skewed. Most of the population have limited experience of humans, and those who do—’ she paused, smoothed her robes, and turned to me. ‘Those