“We use cow surrogates, of course.”
“Cow surrogates.” Portafack shook his head. “I’ve heard of that. I thought it was for women who didn’t want to ruin their figures. But I guess you can mix anything in a test tube and stick it in a cow these days?”
“Well, that’s pretty simplified. We actually use gene-splicing; we can manipulate DNA, so we mix and match genes. We still have a lot to learn, but we’re getting there. We change things a little for each generation.” He gestured lightly towards the girls, with their differences in doglike facial appearances. “We hope to get to the point where we can produce hybrids for assembly lines, for care-taking positions, for general manual labour, and we’re looking into exhibition sports as well. They can run fast and catch things, so it seems a possibility. But I’m happy with girls like Tercepia. She’s really got the best of both breeds—eager and loving like a dog but looking very human. The other male in her group has turned out very well. He was one of the three hybrids we placed last week, and we’ve already gotten good reports on him. Like Tercepia, he’s exceptional, though a little more outgoing. There’s another boy now that looks promising. Smart and strong.”
“No,” Portafack mused, “I don’t want a boy. I like Tercepia.”
“Then let me suggest this. Why don’t you try talking to her and seeing how she responds? I can send her over to the eggs. She loves those. When you get there, pick up one of the eggs that’s about to hatch—look for a slight crack in the shell. It will get her interest. Then you can walk around with her and see how it goes.”
“It’s a little bit like a date,” Portafack joked.
“A trial.”
“A test run. That’s fine by me. How do I get her to come?”
She was over by the sink, running water and filling glasses. She would occasionally duck her head in the jet of water and drink.
“Tercepia,” Sandam called.
She wiped her mouth and came over to him.
“Go to the eggs,” he said. “Bring me an egg.”
“Egg,” Tercepia repeated in a happy voice. She turned and began to skip out the door.
“You’d better hurry if you’re going with her. They’re always in a rush.”
Portafack almost lunged in his haste, and he was forced to trot briefly in order to keep her in sight. She went off to the left and around the back of the barns, stopping briefly to run over to a brown dog that was circling a tree. The dog turned once to look at Portafack, and he got a look at its eyes. They surprised him. They were blue, and unlike most dogs’ eyes, they had a pronounced white rim. Startlingly human-looking, he thought, and he didn’t like it. The blue-eyed dog studied him for an instant, but Tercepia pushed it in fun and the two of them began to run together along the sides of the barn. They took turns chasing each other and otherwise wasting time, or Portafack would have lost them.
They stopped and the girl bent down and hugged the dog.
“Tercepia!” Portafack yelled sharply. She jerked up and looked at him. “Egg!” he called.
The blue-eyed dog laid its ears flat against his head and trotted off to the trees, the edge of a woodlands that began a few hundred yards from the pens. Tercepia’s gaze followed him.
“Egg!” Portafack repeated to get her attention again. She turned and walked ahead of him.
Portafack passed an opening in the barn and saw pigs inside with rows of noses along their spine. He made a face. A few more yards and Tercepia turned into a small building.
There were elevated glassed-in terrariums with heat lamps along one wall. Across from them were chickens in large cages. At the far end there was laboratory equipment and a few technicians. One got off the phone and waved at Portafack. He pointed to the glass cage where Tercepia was standing, so he went over and selected an egg with a pronounced crack.
He held it in his palm. It was warm and heavy and he covered it with his fist for a moment, just testing its weight. He felt a vibration in the egg, a kind of internal wiggle.
“Look, Tercepia,” he said. “I think it’s hatching.”
Tercepia grinned and stuck her head over the egg, blocking his view. He could smell her slightly, a little grubby, a little salty. He took a slow breath and moved his hand higher, luring her closer.
She brushed against him, intent on the egg. It was moving gently from side to side and he could feel a sort of thump now. He moved the egg from one hand to the other, and Tercepia followed it so she was no longer beside him but in front of him. Her eyes were stuck on the egg. He took his free hand and brushed it against her arm in a studied, casual way. He was watching her even as he felt the egg move. He had to control his breathing so she wouldn’t notice anything. His fingertips moved gently forward. She was wearing a thin cotton dress. It wasn’t fresh. She had been wearing it long enough so that it had softened and lay against her skin. His fingers touched the side of her breast. It would seem like an accident. He could smell her hair.
She moved slightly when he touched her, shifting her weight differently, but her head blocked his view of the egg. He was more interested in accidentally touching her again, to see what her reaction would be. But then the egg began to thump in the palm of his hand and a very natural curiosity caused him to push her slightly aside so he could see.
The thumping, or whatever it was, was rocking the egg noticeably. He listened for little pecks or some kind of chirping; he was sure that would happen as soon as the shell was broken, but it didn’t exactly break. Instead, the egg seemed to bulge a little at one point, and the rocking took on a strong rhythm. The bulge was noticeable.
Suddenly the shell broke, and a dark pink thing poked out. It was soft and thick and curled a little like a tube.
Portafack was fascinated and repulsed. He felt Tercepia trembling with excitement.
The pink thing poked out some more and the shell broke in half.
“It’s a tongue,” he said, finally recognizing it, and Tercepia lunged forward, pushing her head in again over the egg. He thought she might eat it, so he grabbed her by the upper arm, holding her tightly. She twisted away, but her eyes were still trained on the egg. He held it out slightly, liking the way she struggled against him.
The tongue wiggled against his palm. He dropped it in surprise and the girl tried to fall down on top of it. She crouched low and he bent down. “No,” he said. “Don’t eat it. No.”
The second “no” caused her to move back on her haunches, her eyes still trained on the egg, which was wriggling on the ground. He didn’t want to touch it, so he looked around, back over the lab area, and called out, “This one’s hatched and I think she might eat it.”
A man in a lab coat hurried over and picked up the tongue.
“Stay,” Portafack said when she started to follow the technician. She stopped and looked at him. “Good. That’s very good. Come here now.” She went to him, reluctantly.
He lifted her chin with his hand, studying her. The girl’s face had a slight ridge from her forehead to her nose. It was hard for him to figure out whether she looked dull-witted or smart, because it all depended on perspective, didn’t it? From whose point of view, human or dog? “Are you a good girl?” he breathed into her face. “Or do you fight back? Which will it be?” His voice was coaxing; Tercepia tensed and he released her.
“Let’s go to Dr. Sandam, shall we?” he said. She looked alert, and he repeated, “Sandam.” She took off at a trot.
He didn’t take much notice of the brown dog that was in sight again, moving through the trees a hundred yards from the barn. Tercepia saw the dog and started running to him, but Portafack called her back and she moved in an arc on line again to go find Sandam.
He watched her run. She was barefoot, with strong calf muscles. Her arms pumped rhythmically. He would let her hair grow longer; right now it was short and uncared for. He didn’t mind its roughness, but he wanted it to get in her face more; he wanted to be able to twist it around in his hand.
Sandam was standing outside, waiting for them.
“Well?” he asked.
“I’ll take her,” Portafack said. “If she’s as good as you say, I’ll probably come back and take some more. I have friends who will be interested.”
Sandam nodded. “I have to admit I’m sorry to see her go. She’s very sweet and very loyal. She may seem depressed for a few days, they do sometimes, until she adjusts. We spent a lot of time on her.” There was regret in his voice as he led Portafack to his office and began writing out the receipts. “It was a pleasure to see how much she could learn. I do want you to send me reports every month or so. We want to track them as much as possible. Her brother’s reports have been good, and we sold two of the younger girls last week as nannies. They’ve adjusted very quickly, though the first few days, I have to warn you, can be very sad for them.”
When he had finished all the paperwork, he handed the bill to Portafack, who studied it and then gave him a credit card.
“How will she know she belongs to me now?”
“She’s trained to accept orders, so use voice commands, just as you would with any dog. But be kind. They respond to kindness more than anything else. Persuasion. Affection. That sort of thing.”
When they’d finished all the paper work, they went outside again. Tercepia was playing with the dog a little distance away.
“That dog,” Portafack murmured. He could see the dog opening and shutting its mouth, but there was no sound. “Did you de-bark it or something?”
Sandam cleared his throat. “It made too much noise. It kept distracting the hybrids.”
“Oh? Then barking bothers them?”
Sandam hesitated. “No. It wasn’t really the barking that did it, but don’t worry. It doesn’t affect you.”
“If you say so. Do I just call her to me?” He was eager; his eyes were locked on her.
He called and the girl came to him, but stood a few feet away. She looked uneasy. The blue-eyed dog went off to the other side of the yard, and sat down watching them.
“Car, Tercepia,” Sandam said. He patted Portafack on the shoulder. “She likes cars. They all do.”
“I could have guessed. Let’s go to the car, Tercepia.”
Tercepia looked alert when she heard the word and happily ran over to Sandam’s car.
“No,” he said.
“Here, Tercepia,” Portafack said, motioning her to the right vehicle. “Car.” He opened the door for her.
She went over slowly and climbed in. When Portafack closed the door, she looked alarmed and stared at Sandam. She began to whimper.
“Don’t worry about that,” Sandam said as he walked Portafack to the driver’s side. “She’ll be upset for a day or two then she’ll settle down.”
“Still, I hope she doesn’t make a lot of noise,” Portafack said. “It’s annoying.”
“Give her some treats if she doesn’t eat. But no chocolate, they can’t tolerate it, a legacy of the dog genes.”
Portafack laughed. “Flowers? Should I get flowers?”
“She likes cheese. Goodbye, Tercepia. Be good.” Sandam waved as Portafack started the motor.
The long driveway curved at one point, and they lost sight of the farm. It was at that moment that Tercepia began to howl. She shoved herself against the seat belt, rocking as close to the windshield, seat, or window as she could as the car moved. She tried desperately to get back to Sandam.
“Stop it,” Portafack said. “Sit. Sit!” He jerked his foot on the accelerator, then stepped on the brakes so he could pull her back, then accelerated again, only to stop as her arms windmilled wildly. She began to howl, “Home, home home!” in a drawn out high voice. She clutched at the seat belt, holding it tight or pulling it away from her chest. “Home, home, home!” she wailed.
Portafack had to slow down; it was hard to drive with Tercepia’s constant movements. The brown dog suddenly appeared in the road in front of him, barking soundlessly, and then the dog ran to the passenger side of the car. It leapt in the air and threw itself against Tercepia’s door.
“Cerbo!” Tercepia cried out, and her hands pumped at the side window. “Cerbo, help! Cerbo, home, home! Please Cerbo. Tercepia sorry! Home now, home now!” She wept openly, then twisted around in the seat to smack Portafack. She howled at him, hitting wildly, snapping at his arm, pulling at his face, his nose, his ears, anything she could lay hands on. Portafack couldn’t see. He stopped the car and jerked it in park, snapping Tercepia forward. This caught her by surprise, so he took the opportunity to grab her by the arm and smack her head. His face twisted at her, his mouth ugly, his voice harsh as he shouted, “I’ll beat the crap out of you if you don’t stop!” He unlocked his seat belt to have better aim.
A huge rock crashed into his windshield.
He was startled and let Tercepia’s arm go. What had fallen on them?
It wasn’t a rock; it was that dog again and it was hurling itself again at the windshield, fangs bared, tongue curled, ears pricked high and those eerie blue eyes staring at him with a ferocious concentration that made his hands sweat.
He blasted the horn. If it didn’t frighten the dog, maybe it would bring Sandam. He felt trapped.
Tercepia’s hands flailed at his face, scratching, poking, ramming a fist into his right eye. She was mindless, a maniac, frantic; her weird shrieking combining with the sounds of the dog’s claws on the side of the car incapacitated him.
Tercepia unlocked the door and bolted.
Cerbo broke free and began to run up to the trees that ringed the farm. She ran after him. In the distance, up the drive, she could see Sandam’s hurrying figure and she heard his voice floating towards her. “Tercepia! Here! Now! Here! Come here!” but she ignored it.
She stopped on the ridge, catching her breath. She sat down so she could hug the dog even more. Cerbo licked her face, her hands, his muzzle moving constantly.
Cerbo lifted his head and his ears twitched. Tercepia turned to see where he was looking, and there was Portafack, with a heavy stick in his hand and a length of rope. “Get over here, girl,” he said. “Get over here or I’ll kill the two of you. You’re going to have to learn to listen to me now.”
Tercepia leaped up, spun around, and began to run through the woods, Cerbo running beside her. Portafack stayed halfway up the hill, running after her, panting loudly. They came out of the trees, and Portafack could see some buildings in the distance—he thought they were the schools. To the left was a fenced-in field with cows in it, and Tercepia seemed to be going straight for it.