Striking the Balance

He’d tried to keep track of days by scratching tally marks in the wall. It hadn’t worked. He’d forgotten a day, or thought he had, and then scratched two marks instead of one the next morning, only to decide, afterwards, that maybe he hadn’t forgotten after all, which rendered his makeshift calendar inaccurate and therefore useless. All he knew now was that he’d been here… forever.

“Sensory deprivation,” he said. If no one outside could hear him, he was allowed to talk to himself. “Yes, sensory deprivation: that is the experiment the accursed female Liu Han has in mind for me. How long can I experience nothing and still keep my wits unaddled? I do not know. I hope I do not find out.”

Was a slow descent into madness, watching yourself take each step down the road, preferable to being quickly killed? He didn’t know that, either. He was even beginning to wonder whether he would have preferred to suffer the physical torment against which the Big Uglies, proving their barbarity, had no scruples. If thinking you’d sooner be tortured wasn’t a step on the road to madness, what was?

He wished he’d never gone into cold sleep aboard a starship, wished he’d never seen Tosev 3, wished he’d never turned his eye turrets toward Liu Han, wished he’d never watched the hatchling emerge all slimy and bloody and disgusting from the genital opening between her legs, and wished-oh, how he wished! — he’d never taken that hatchling to see what he could learn from it.

Those wishes weren’t going to come to fruition, either. He cherished them all the same. No one could deny they were utterly rational and sensible, the products of a mind fully in touch with reality.

He heard a sharp, metallic click and felt the building in which he was confined vibrate ever so slightly. He heard footfalls in the chamber outside his door, and heard the outer door to the building close. Someone fumbled at the lock that confined him. It opened, too, with a click different from that of the one on the outer door.

With a squeak of hinges that needed oil, the inner door swung open. Ttomalss all but quivered with joy at the prospect of seeing, speaking with, anyone, even a Big Ugly. “Superior-female,” he said when he recognized Liu Han.

She did not answer right away. She carried a submachine gun in one hand and her hatchling on her other hip. Ttomalss had trouble knowing the hatchling was the creature he had studied. When the little Tosevite had been his, he’d put no cloths on it except the necessary ones around its middle that kept its wastes from splashing indiscriminately all over his laboratory area.

Now-Now Liu Han had decked the hatching in shiny cloth of several bright colors. The hatchling also wore bits of ribbon tied in its black hair. The adornment struck Ttomalss as foolish and unnecessary; all he’d ever done was make sure the hair was clean and untangled. Why bother with anything more?

The hatchling looked at him for some time. Did it remember? He had no way to know; his research had been interrupted before he could learn such things-and, in any case, he couldn’t be sure how long he’d been imprisoned here.

“Mama?” the hatchling said-in Chinese, without an interrogative cough. A small hand went out to point toward Ttomalss. “This?” Again, it spoke in the Tosevite language, without any hint it had begun to learn that of the Race.

“This is a little scaly devil,” Liu Han answered, also in Chinese. She repeated herself: “Little scaly devil.”

“Little scaly devil,” the hatchling echoed. The words were not pronounced perfectly, but even Ttomalss, whose own Chinese was far from perfect, had no trouble understanding them.

“Good,” Liu Han said, and twisted her rubbery face into the expression Big Uglies used to convey amiability. The hatching did not give that expression back. It hadn’t done that so much in the latter part of the time when Ttomalss had had it, perhaps because it had had no models to imitate. Liu Han’s grimace left her features. “Liu Mei hardly smiles,” she said. “For this I blame you.”

Ttomalss realized the female had given the hatchling a name reminiscent of her own.Family relationships are critical among Tosevites, he reminded himself, becoming for a moment a researcher once more, not a captive. Then he saw Liu Han was waiting for his reply. Relying on the patience of a Big Ugly waiting with a submachine gun did not do. He said, “It maybe so, superior female. Perhaps the hatchling needed a pattern for this expression. I cannot smile, so I could not be that pattern. We do not learn these things until we encounter them.”

“You should not have had to learn them,” Liu Han answered. “You should not have taken Liu Mei from me in the first place.”