"And yet you did it--to save yourself."
"I was afraid. And the thought came to me: They're only copies. It isn't murder to discard the copies."
"Their souls and lives were their own."
"Do you think the government would have let them live? Do you really think they would have survived? Any of them?"
"You don't deserve to have a son," said Sister Carlotta.
"But I have one, don't I?" He laughed. "While you, Miss Carlotta, perpetual bride of the invisible God, how many do you have?"
"They may have been copies, Volescu, but even dead they're worth more than the original."
He continued laughing as she walked down the corridor away from him, but it sounded forced. She knew his laughter was a mask for grief. But it wasn't the grief of compassion, or even of remorse. It was the grief of a damned soul.
Bean. God be thanked, she thought, that you do not know your father, and never will. You're nothing like him. You're far more human.
In the back of her mind, though, she had one nagging doubt. Was she sure Bean had more compassion, more humanity? Or was Bean as cold of heart as this man? As incapable of empathy? Was he all mind?
Then she thought of him growing and growing, from this too-tiny child to a giant whose body could no longer sustain life. This was the legacy your father gave you. This was Anton's key. She thought of David's cry, when he learned of the death of his son. Absalom! Oh Absalom! Would God I could die for thee, Absalom, my son!
But he was not dead yet, was he? Volescu might have been lying, might simply be wrong. There might be some way to prevent it. And even if there was not, there were still many years ahead of Bean. And how he lived those years still mattered.
God raises up the children that he needs, and makes men and women of them, and then takes them from this world at his good pleasure. To him all of life is but a moment. All that matters is what that moment was used for. And Bean would use it well. She was sure of that.
Or at least she hoped it with such fervor that it felt like certainty.
12
ROSTER
"If Wiggin's the one, then let's get him to Eros."
"He's not ready for Command School yet. It's premature."
"Then we have to go with one of the alternates."
"That's your decision."
"Our decision! What do we have to go on but what you tell us?"
"I've told you about those older boys, too. You have the same data I have."
"Do we have all of it?"
"Do you want all of it?"
"Do we have the data on all the children with scores and evaluations at such a high level?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Some of them are disqualified for various reasons."
"Disqualified by whom?"
"By me."