"Come on." He picked her up. What had damaged all those trees?
"Gonna make a burrito out of you," he said, ferrying her over to the blanket. She examined her left hand. It had no skin left. Black spines poked out instead, like twigs. "No biting."
No biting, Granny concurred.
He laid her on the blanket with her other pieces. He rolled the blanket up and her appendages slid together; she felt her foot near her eyes. He carried the bundle away and put it somewhere – her memory showed her images of C-A-R-S – and they drove off. As the trees rolled by, she saw other bodies: skin and skeletons stretched across the branches and boughs, heads hanging by their hair.
Those are your clademates, Granny said. Those are your aunts.
He found a place called a "campsite" and opened the "trunk" so light could come in. Then he opened the blanket and knelt over her again. He pinched her wounded skin together and laughed about a long-ago woman who taught him to how fold dumplings. A Zen thing, he said, after a while. Fill. Wet. Pinch. Over and over and over. Plate after plate of food he would never eat. Then he hummed a song about bones. Her memory had it tagged with the word "kindergarten". The memory version was missing a verse: Now hear the Word of the Lord! He ripped open a packet of foil. "Feeding time."
Her mouth opened automatically. He squirted something in there, held her down when her whole body lunged upward just to get more. He gave her more packets. Then his body moved and the sun peeked from around him; the space filled with light and her senses caught fire: her repair mods shrieked delight and got to work immediately. Warmth flooded her limbs. Colour bled into her vision. Words fell into place.
"Javier."
His shoulders slumped like he'd put down something heavy. "You're OK."
"It was the sun," Amy said. "The sun sped everything up."
Javier sat back on his knees. He gave her a measuring glance, top to bottom and back up. "What's it feel like?"
She considered. "…Fizzy. Like my skin is made of bubbles. It burns, but it feels good at the same time."
Javier beamed. "Like a flood of energy, right?"
Amy nodded. "That's right." She winced. "Is this just another thing my mom never told me about?"
Javier curled his lip under his top teeth. He shook his head. "No, Amy." He stretched his hand out into the sun. "Photosynthesis is something only my clade can do."
She and the baby lay in the grass while Javier planned her first pregnancy.
"First you should find a nice human," he said, pacing back and forth before a little fire of twigs he'd built. "Someone who'll take care of you. Lots of vN chicks do that. Your mom, for one. Anyway, you settle down, and then iterate like there's no tomorrow."
Amy looked down at Junior. Already he seemed capable of focusing on her. His huge, dark eyes regarded her calmly. Amy wondered if maybe he saw Granny waiting, like a spider at the centre of her web, behind her eyes.
All your children will be stained with me. And your children's children. I will live forever in their bones.
"I'm not sure I want to iterate."
"Why not?" Javier asked. He flopped down beside her, picked up a foil pouch of vN juice, and sucked it back. "You're tough. You can take it."
Amy curled further into herself. The sun still felt good, and the grass, and the presence of life all around them, organic and synthetic both. They were in a place meant for families. She smelled smoke and heard laughter. High up in the trees sat a lost Frisbee the colour of cheap nail polish. Somewhere, someone was missing it. Maybe they were even thinking about it right now, like she was. If she concentrated on this possibility, she could almost forget the presence dwelling at the edges of her mind.
"What if something's wrong with me?" Amy asked slowly. "What if I'm… messed up?"
Javier sucked bubbles from the pouch. "Messed up how? You're perfect." He frowned. "Well, aside from being a whiner, and a bad driver, and–"
"You're not helping." She rolled over onto her stomach. "I mean, shouldn't my repair mods have rejected your stemware? I just adopted photosynthesis like… like a virus, or something."
"It is a virus. My pigment cells are programmed to simulate the activity of cyanophages in ocean algae. Maybe that includes turning hostiles to friendlies." Javier crumpled up the foil in his fist. "Who cares how it happened? The important thing is, you should iterate ASAP. Spread my seed around."
See? He agrees with me.
Amy scowled. "You don't even know I'll pass on your trait. This might just be a phase, or something."
It's not. He's inside you, now. Just like me. Forever.
"Does this mean I'm part of your clade, now?"