Year's Best SF 16 by Gardner Dozois

Author:Gardner Dozois
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-04-13T00:13:29+00:00

* * *

13. Why did Phillip Stevens create you?

Any ideas?

Forget my little announcement. My name is Houston Cross, and I want you to explain to me why your father did what he did? Because I know you must have lain awake nights wondering just that….

* * *

The four of them walk in single file through the big bluestem prairie, following a narrow path up a hill, both hill and path vanishing in the same step.

Houston stops for a moment, watching the horizon and the rolling windswept land, farm fields on all sides and this little patch of grass and wildflowers tucked into a spare 40 acres. The nearest intelligence is a soaring redtailed hawk. Other than the bird, no one notices them but them.

Again, he walks.

And he asks the boys, “Why did PS do it?”

“He was selfish,” says John. Blurts John.

“Who told you that?” Houston responds. Then he makes himself laugh, adding, “That’s right. Everyone says that he was horribly, wickedly selfish. Don’t they?”

From behind, Troy asks, “Were you?”

“In a sense. Of course. Who isn’t?”

At the base of the hill is a little stand of trees. Ash trees, mostly. With an enormous and stately cottonwood anchoring one end.

“But maybe there’s a different answer. A harder, truer one.”

“Like what?” asks Mike.

“All of you are Phillip’s gift to the world.” Houston slows his gait, making sure that everyone can hear.

“The man had certain talents that can prosper in any time, and he decided to share those talents with his species. To enrich your generation with his genes, and when you have your own children, then enrich every generation to come.”

Mike snorts, in disgust.

“What’s the matter?” Houston asks. “Don’t you approve?”

The boy just shakes his head, glowering at the ground.

For the last time, Troy looks over his shoulder. Then Houston places a hand on his shoulder, warning him, “Nobody knows where we are. For a little while, nobody’s going to interrupt us. So don’t worry.

Okay?”

The eyes are wide and sorrowful, but Troy says nothing.

Then they move beneath the trees, out of the wind, their voices carrying and the mood instantly more intimate. More familiar.

Houston says, “There’s a third possibility.”

“What?” squeaks John.

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