Time Out of Place
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There was a stunned silence in the room. The rumble and hiss of machinery, which was a permanent feature of the Endurance, was entirely absent here on the Yelcho; you probably really could have heard a pin drop. Before anyone could speak, Tony went on. "The Earth you would be returning to is not the planet you remember. The people who live there now are entirely unlike anybody you have ever known. You will, I think, find them unbearably different. I certainly did." Tony took a deep breath, his scrawny shoulders rising and falling. There might have been some movement from whatever machinery was concealed within the wheelchair, too. "Oh, the planet itself is beautiful," he went on, a wan smile flickering around his lips, "No mess, no pollution. Vast areas which were once urban sprawl or industrial development or just blighted badlands are now pristine wilderness, or gardens, beautifully restored to conditions very close to those before the first industrial revolution." With some visible effort, Tony waved an arm in an apparent attempt to encompass the entirety of the planet. "Even those areas where people live are themselves delightful. Buildings are designed and built entirely in harmony with their living surroundings, where they are considered necessary. Rather few of them, it seems since most people choose to live in space rather than the surface of the planet. And the space habitats are full of technical marvels which I can't even begin to describe." Tony paused again, twisting his neck painfully to look up at Waldo, who again smiled encouragingly. "The people," Tony glanced at the paper in his hand, then went on, "Well, everybody is always friendly and helpful. But almost nobody looks human. Even those who are basically human-shaped have some kind of augmentation." Behind him, Waldo extended his non-human arm beyond the range of whatever camera device was making the recording, as if to emphasise Tony's remark. "I always was a great one for long-distance walking and running," the invalid went on, "And there are now so many wonderful places to explore on foot. So I thought I would get myself augmented, to allow me run further and faster." He suddenly swept off the blanket which covered him from the waist down. There was a collective gasp in the room. "This was a mistake," he said simply, "I had to have the augmentations removed before they killed me." Below the waist, his body was a bloody mess, with stumps extending only a few centimetres below his crotch, with weeping sores and blackened bruises which seemed to resist medical treatment and undoubtedly contributed to the weakness of the rest of his body. The screen went blank. "Old humans, like yourselves," Waldo said, "React badly to augmentation, always. The person either goes mad or their body rejects the implants, despite everything we know about medicine. It seems to be entirely psychosomatic in nature, and even the most well-balanced individual somehow cannot get along with even the most basic devices." The velociraptor on the stage swung his head suddenly, making people at the front flinch instinctively despite their by-now deep familiarity. "We had to show you that you are not able to fit into our society," Rex said, his slow deep voice entirely at odds with his reptilian carnivore's body, "You had to be on the verge of forming that conclusion yourself." "But what alternative is there?" This question must have been on everybody's mind, and I was not sure who actually spoke it. Waldo gave every impression of sighing. Suddenly he looked undeniably human and rather saddened. His broad shoulders slumped.
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Part 4