Longing suddenly seized Ingray. She had come from a public crèche but had gone to Netano Aughskold’s house when she was still quite young. If she had stayed, she would certainly have had very little luxury in her life, but would she have had crèchemates like this, to lean on so comfortably? Ingray had been a ward of the district, one of a number of children whose parents were unwilling or unable to care for them. Her life was so different now, because Netano had adopted her. And if she left the Aughskolds she would have no family at all, and no way to go back to what she had been, no way to find a place where she’d have naturally belonged if Netano had chosen some other child. No way to find even a shred of the comfortable companionship she saw here.
She couldn’t imagine snuggling up against Danach like that. Not even during the times they got along. And there had been times like that, every now and then, particularly when the family’s interests were at stake for some reason.
Then again, neither she nor Danach had ever had to sleep in a lobby. Every time they’d been to the station, Ingray had had a room with a bed, where she could wait until just before the shuttle boarded.
She looked at the cost of a train ride from the elevator base to the city where Netano’s house was, and compared that with how much money she had left from the sale of the suspension pod. Sighed. “Well, we’ve got enough for all our transport anyway. Or most of it. We’ll have to walk from the district transport terminal to the house, and it’s quite a distance.”
“That’ll be a nice change, anyway,” Garal said. “You did say you wanted to be able to walk more just last week.”
Ingray made a small breathy laugh. “And supposedly a person can go weeks without eating.” They’d both claimed a half-day water allowance on the way to the lobby, so at least they had that.
Garal swung eir bag onto eir lap and opened the latch. Showed Ingray what was inside: foil-wrapped, spongy blocks of nutrients. Ingray stared at them, then looked up at Garal’s sharp-featured face. “What, did you skip lunch every day?” She tried to remember if she’d ever seen em eating a nutrient block on the ship. She herself had gotten heartily sick of them.
“Every other day.” E did not visibly react at all to her surprise. “I’d have saved some of the noodles, except those aren’t very good to eat if you don’t have access to hot water.”
It had never occurred to Ingray to save some of her food. Why would she? Apart from the last day or so of her stay on Tyr Siilas, she had never once worried that she might not be able to eat in the future. “Well, that’s … good thinking.”
Garal pulled a nutrient block out of the bag and handed it to her. Pulled another one out for emself and latched the bag shut again. “I suppose the Aughskolds didn’t go on crèche trips.” Not looking directly at the children ahead of them, but clearly referring to them.
“No, we had tutors, and went on family trips. We did come to see the System Lareum, though.” Of course. Everyone came who could. It was the one place to find vestiges of the system settlement and founding, vestiges of nearly every important event in the history of Hwae. Every citizen should have an opportunity to see them in person, to be in their presence. Which was why politicians like Netano Aughskold often made a point of helping children in their districts do exactly that, and no doubt why those blue-uniformed adolescents were even now noisily waiting for the shuttle back home.
Garal chewed and swallowed a bite of nutrient bar. “What must that be like,” e said, “to see things your own family gave to the lareum?”
There were some Aughskold vestiges there. But Ingray hardly knew how to answer. She had been proud to see them, of course, but at the same time they hadn’t quite felt like they had anything specifically to do with her. “Complicated,” she said. “You already know, I’m sure, that the couple of most famous Aughskold vestiges here originally belonged to other families.”
“Ah,” said Garal, “is that still an issue? It’s been, what, a hundred years?”
“And surely, no matter who really owns them, it’s better for everyone that they’re in the System Lareum,” Ingray agreed.
Garal made a quick, skeptical hah sound. “I guess I’m not surprised. Though, knowing what I know now, I wonder how much of what’s in the lareum is fake to begin with.”
“What, you think there are forgeries in the Hwae System Lareum? But you said yourself, before, that it’s too risky to fake famous vestiges. Or do you mean maybe Pahlad stole those, too? I’m not sure e would ever have had the opportunity.” She frowned. It had never occurred to her before, the possibility that anything in the System Lareum might not be what it was supposed to be. That any of it might be copies. What would be the point of that? How a vestige looked, what it was made of—none of that really mattered. What mattered was, it had been touched by certain people, actually, physically been there when pivotal, system-shaking events had happened. Events that had led to the founding of Hwae, that had made all of them who they were today. What good would copies be, of something like that? Why bother to come to the station to see them? You might as well just look at pictures. “That would be terrible.”
“That’s not quite what I meant,” said Garal, and took another bite of eir nutrient block.
“And what would be the point of stealing such famous vestiges? You couldn’t sell them. You could never let anyone else see them. You’d have to, what, keep them locked up, forever.”
“Indeed,” said Garal.
Ingray wrinkled her nose at her own nutrient bar. “Who comes up with these flavors? Stewed chicken with pickled cabbage? It’s not like they’re fooling anyone. It’s a block of yeast.”
“I have some of the curried fish ones, if you’d rather.”
“Ugh, no.” She tore the foil open, took a bite. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’m very glad you have these, and very glad you’re sharing with me.” She thought of saying But whoever makes these must hate humanity, and then remembered Garal swallowing an entire meal at a single gulp, when e’d first come to the ship, and the fact that e felt it necessary to hoard food for the future, and ate her food in silence.
5