was a test – but she hadn’t studied; she wasn’t ready to take it. Suppose she squished a worm too hard and killed it by mistake? Astra shook her head dumbly.
‘Okay.’ Her Shelter mother opened a drawer and took out a medical syringe and needle and a bottle of yellowish liquid. Holding the bottle up to the light, she filled the syringe from it. ‘This is a special solution I make up here,’ she said. ‘It paralyses the worm and stops its hearts beating. It also contains a special Code sequence that will customise the chicks for particular IMBOD applications.’
Astra only had one heart, not five, and right now it was shrinking in her chest into a tight, squirming little knot. ‘Are the worms Code-vectors, then?’ she asked, trying to sound professional. ‘Like the Security Serum?’
‘Exactly.’ Hokma reached into the bucket and plucked out a worm. She placed it on the cutting board. Pinned between her fingers, it contracted and expanded in a long, slithery S shape. Just at the point Astra thought of as the neck – though Torrent always said worms were like Mr Banzan and didn’t have necks – Hokma inserted the needle between two of the worm’s muscles.
‘It’s just a tiny prick,’ she said as she depressed the plunger. ‘Far better than being stabbed to death by a blackbird.’
The liquid drained into the worm and its crimson body rippled for a moment more, then it stopped moving and lay there on the board, limp and still.
‘Can’t you grow alt-worms in the alt-mouse incubator?’ Astra asked. Her eyes felt wet and prickly and there was a lump in her throat. Squeezing past it, her voice had turned all thin and squeaky. She felt her face turn red, but she couldn’t cry. She couldn’t let Hokma know she was upset. If she acted like Yoki, Hokma would decide not to tell her important things either.
‘No, it’s not big enough, and it’s too expensive to run two.’ Hokma set the needle down and rested her wrist on Astra’s shoulder. Her gloved hand, the hand that had just murdered the worm, hung in the air in front of Astra’s face. ‘There’s no need to cry, Astra,’ she said. ‘These worms have lived a very full life, much longer than they might have done in the wild. And the Owleons protect us in all sorts of ways. They need to be fed.’
Astra rubbed her eyes dry. ‘I know,’ she said, defiantly. ‘I just felt sad for a minute, that’s all.’
‘That’s okay,’ Hokma straightened up. ‘In life we often feel different emotions at the same time. Being able to do that is a sign of great strength.’
Meem would be crying if she were here, and Yoki screaming. Torrent, though, would want to have a go with the needle. And Peat would ask questions. Astra swallowed. ‘My teacher said that complexity is difficult. Is that what she meant?’
‘Partly, yes. Complexity is difficult in all sorts of ways. Now, are you sure you want to watch me kill the rest?’
Kill
. The word ricocheted around the room like an acorn hitting glass, steel, skull. The sound of it hurt. But killing was what Hokma was doing, and Astra wanted Hokma to know she understood: killing was sometimes necessary.
She nodded and one by one, Hokma injected the rest of the worms. When she’d done, she carefully lowered their dead bodies back into the bucket.
‘They have returned to Gaia now.’ She stripped off her gloves and handed the bucket to Astra. The worms were arranged in motionless heaps, small pink spirals dotted across the bottom. Was she going to have to pick them up now? Was that the next test to fail?
Carrying the bucket with both hands, trying not to look at the worms, she trailed after Hokma through the sliding glass doors and onto the verandah. The wooden deck was supported by three massive stripped tree trunks and opened onto a wide, wild lawn behind Wise House; the long grass was studded with stumps and what looked like roughly made stools.
‘Those are the perches,’ Hokma said. ‘I put
‘Okay.’ Her Shelter mother opened a drawer and took out a medical syringe and needle and a bottle of yellowish liquid. Holding the bottle up to the light, she filled the syringe from it. ‘This is a special solution I make up here,’ she said. ‘It paralyses the worm and stops its hearts beating. It also contains a special Code sequence that will customise the chicks for particular IMBOD applications.’
Astra only had one heart, not five, and right now it was shrinking in her chest into a tight, squirming little knot. ‘Are the worms Code-vectors, then?’ she asked, trying to sound professional. ‘Like the Security Serum?’
‘Exactly.’ Hokma reached into the bucket and plucked out a worm. She placed it on the cutting board. Pinned between her fingers, it contracted and expanded in a long, slithery S shape. Just at the point Astra thought of as the neck – though Torrent always said worms were like Mr Banzan and didn’t have necks – Hokma inserted the needle between two of the worm’s muscles.
‘It’s just a tiny prick,’ she said as she depressed the plunger. ‘Far better than being stabbed to death by a blackbird.’
The liquid drained into the worm and its crimson body rippled for a moment more, then it stopped moving and lay there on the board, limp and still.
‘Can’t you grow alt-worms in the alt-mouse incubator?’ Astra asked. Her eyes felt wet and prickly and there was a lump in her throat. Squeezing past it, her voice had turned all thin and squeaky. She felt her face turn red, but she couldn’t cry. She couldn’t let Hokma know she was upset. If she acted like Yoki, Hokma would decide not to tell her important things either.
‘No, it’s not big enough, and it’s too expensive to run two.’ Hokma set the needle down and rested her wrist on Astra’s shoulder. Her gloved hand, the hand that had just murdered the worm, hung in the air in front of Astra’s face. ‘There’s no need to cry, Astra,’ she said. ‘These worms have lived a very full life, much longer than they might have done in the wild. And the Owleons protect us in all sorts of ways. They need to be fed.’
Astra rubbed her eyes dry. ‘I know,’ she said, defiantly. ‘I just felt sad for a minute, that’s all.’
‘That’s okay,’ Hokma straightened up. ‘In life we often feel different emotions at the same time. Being able to do that is a sign of great strength.’
Meem would be crying if she were here, and Yoki screaming. Torrent, though, would want to have a go with the needle. And Peat would ask questions. Astra swallowed. ‘My teacher said that complexity is difficult. Is that what she meant?’
‘Partly, yes. Complexity is difficult in all sorts of ways. Now, are you sure you want to watch me kill the rest?’
Kill
. The word ricocheted around the room like an acorn hitting glass, steel, skull. The sound of it hurt. But killing was what Hokma was doing, and Astra wanted Hokma to know she understood: killing was sometimes necessary.
She nodded and one by one, Hokma injected the rest of the worms. When she’d done, she carefully lowered their dead bodies back into the bucket.
‘They have returned to Gaia now.’ She stripped off her gloves and handed the bucket to Astra. The worms were arranged in motionless heaps, small pink spirals dotted across the bottom. Was she going to have to pick them up now? Was that the next test to fail?
Carrying the bucket with both hands, trying not to look at the worms, she trailed after Hokma through the sliding glass doors and onto the verandah. The wooden deck was supported by three massive stripped tree trunks and opened onto a wide, wild lawn behind Wise House; the long grass was studded with stumps and what looked like roughly made stools.
‘Those are the perches,’ Hokma said. ‘I put
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