“She hasn’t forgiven you,” I agreed. “It took her a long time to get used to being human, and you took it away from her.”
“Then tell her this,” Szilard said. “She was a prototype. A version of Special Forces soldier designed entirely from the human genome. She is one hundred percent human, right down to the number of chromosomes. She’s better than human, of course, but human all the same. She never stopped being human through any of this.”
“She has a BrainPal in her head,” I said.
“We’re particularly proud of that,” Szilard said. “The most recent generation of BrainPals were largely organic as it was. It took a substantial amount of tweaking to get one to generate out of the human genome. She was the first to have a wholly integrated, human BrainPal.”
“Why did you test it on her?” I asked.
“Because I knew she would need it, and I knew she valued her humanity,” Szilard said. “I wanted to honor both, and the technology was ready to be tested. Tell her I am sorry I wasn’t able to tell her this before now. I had my reasons for not wanting the technology to be common knowledge.”
I looked at Szilard closely. “You’re using the same technology now, aren’t you,” I said.
“I am,” Szilard said. “For the first time I am entirely human. As human as anyone. And in time every member of Special Forces will be the same. It matters. It matters to who we are, and for what we can become to the Colonial Union and to humanity. Let Jane know, Perry. She is the first of us. The most human of us. Let her know.”
Not long after, I took Jane to meet Kathy.
My Ohio hometown was as I had left it, almost two decades before, only slightly worse for wear. We drove up the long driveway of my old house to find my son Charlie, his family and every person I was even tangentially related to waiting for us. I had seen Charlie twice since my return, when he had visited Washington, D.C., to see me. We had been able to get over the shock of me appearing decades younger than he, and he had been able to get over the shock of Jane looking so much like his own mother. For everyone else, however, it was an awkward first.
It would have kept being so if Zo? hadn’t dived in and broke the ice, starting with Charlie’s son Adam, who Zo? demanded call her “Aunt Zo?,” even though she was younger than he was. Slowly our clan began to warm to us, and to me. I was filled in on all the gossip of the last double decade. Jane was told stories of Kathy she had never known before. Zo? was fussed on by old relatives and moony teenage boys alike. Savitri told Charlie jokes about my days as ombudsman. Hickory and Dickory tolerated being curiosities.
As the sun sank in the sky, Jane and I gave Zo? a quick kiss and slipped away, walking east on my county road to Harris Creek Cemetery, and to the simple marker that held my wife’s name.
“Katharine Rebecca Perry,” Jane read, kneeling.
“That’s right,” I said.
“You’re crying,” Jane said, not looking back. “I can hear it in your voice.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just never thought I would be back here.”
Jane looked back. “I didn’t mean for this to hurt you,” she said.
“It’s all right,” I said. “It’s supposed to hurt. And I wanted you to meet her. I wanted to be here when you did.”
“You still love her,” Jane said, looking back down at the marker.
“I do,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’m part of her,” Jane said. “She’s part of me. When you love her, you love me. I don’t mind that you keep loving her. I hope you do. I hope you always do.”
I reached out a hand to her; she took it. We stayed that way, silent at my wife’s grave, for a very long time.
“Look at the stars,” Jane said, finally.
“There’s the Big Dipper,” I said, pointing.
Jane nodded. “I see it.”
I wrapped my arms around Jane. “I remember you said on Huckleberry that it was when you finally saw the constellations that you knew you were home.”
“I remember saying that,” Jane said.
“Is it still true?” I asked.
“It is,” Jane said, and turned to face me. “I’m home. We’re home.”
I kissed my wife.
“The Milky Way,” she said, looking up, after we broke our kiss.
“Yes,” I said, looking up myself. “You can see it really well from here. That’s one of the reasons I liked living in a little country town. In the cities the light drowns it out. But here, you can see it. Although I imagine with your eyes, you’re getting quite a show.”
“It’s beautiful,” Jane said.
“That reminds me,” I said, and told her what General Szilard said about her being the first entirely human Special Forces soldier.
“Interesting,” she said.
“So you’re completely human after all,” I said.
“I know,” Jane said. “I figured it out already.”
“Really,” I said. “I’d like to know how.”
“I’m pregnant,” Jane said, and smiled.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS