Jock frowned. “A big brain doesn’t necessarily mean more intelligence.”

“Not necessarily, no. Still, the average Homo sapiens has an IQ of 100, by definition. And it’s distributed on a bell curve: for every one of us with an IQ of 130, there’s another with an IQ of 70. But suppose they had an average IQ of 110 instead of 100—even before they purged their gene pool. That might make all the difference.”

“You mentioned the bell curve. I read that book, and—”

“And it was full of crap. IQ simply doesn’t vary between racial groups except when malnutrition has been a factor. You’ve met my boyfriend, Reuben Montego. Well, he’s an M.D., and he’s black. If The Bell Curve was right, he should be an incredible rarity, but of course he’s not. Previous disparities were caused by economic or social barriers to higher education for blacks, not by any inherent inferiority.”

“But you’re saying we are inherently inferior to the Neanderthals?”

Louise shrugged. “There’s no doubt that we are physically inferior. Why should it be so hard to accept that we also are mentally?”

Jock made a disgusted face. “I guess when you put it like that…” But then he shook his head. “Still, I hate it. When I was at RAND, we spent all our time trying to outfox enemies that were our match intellectually. Oh, sometimes they had a hardware advantage, and sometimes we did, but there was no notion of one side being inherently brighter than the other. But here—”

“We’re not trying to outfox the Neanderthals,” said Louise. And then, lifting her eyebrows, she added, “Are we?”

“What? No, no. Of course not. Don’t be silly, young lady.”

“A baby?” said Lurt Fradlo, hands on her broad hips. “You and Ponter want to have a baby?”

Mary nodded timidly. She’d left Ponter at his home, and had journeyed by travel cube to Lurt’s house in Saldak Center. “That’s right.”

Lurt opened her arms and gave Mary a big hug. “Wonderful!” she said. “Absolutely wonderful!”

Mary felt her whole body relaxing. “I didn’t know if you would approve.”

“Why would I not approve?” asked Lurt. “Ponter is a wonderful person, and you are a wonderful person. You will make terrific parents.” She paused. “I cannot tell with you Gliksins. How old are you, my dear?”

“Thirty-nine years,” replied Mary. “About five hundred and twenty months.”

Lurt lowered her voice. “For our kind, it is difficult to conceive by that age.”

“Mine, too, although we have all sorts of drugs and techniques that can help. But there is one little problem…” “Oh?”

“Yes. Barasts, like you and Ponter, have twenty-four pairs of chromosomes. Gliksins like me have only twenty-three.”

Lurt frowned. “That will make fertilization very difficult.”

Mary nodded. “Oh, yes. I doubt we could do it at all just by having sex.”

“Do not give up trying, though!” said Lurt, grinning.

Mary grinned back. “Not a chance. But I was hoping to find a way that we could combine Ponter’s DNA and mine. One of the chromosomes in my kind formed from the union of two of the chromosomes in the common ancestor we both share. Genetically, the actual content of the DNA sequences is very similar, but it happens to all be on one long chromosome in Homo sapiens, instead of two shorter ones in Homo neanderthalensis.”

Lurt was nodding slowly. “And you hope to overcome this problem?”

“That was my thought. I think it could be done, even just with the techniques my people have available, but it would be very tricky. But your people are further along in a lot of ways. I was wondering if you knew anyone who might be an expert in this area?”

“I very much like you, Mare, but you do have a tendency to put your foot right in it.”

“Pardon?”

“There is a solution to your problem—a perfect solution. But…”

“But what?”

“But it is banned.”

“Banned? Why?”

“Because of the danger it posed to our way of life. There was a geneticist named Vissan Lennet. Until four months ago, she lived in Kraldak.”

“Which is?”

“A town perhaps 350,000 armspans south of here. But she left.”

“She left Kraldak?” said Mary.

But Lurt shook her head. “She left everything.”

Mary felt her eyebrows shooting up. “My God—do you mean she killed herself?”

“What? No, she is still alive. At least, as far as anyone knows—not that we have any way to contact her.”

Mary gestured at Lurt’s forearm. “Can’t you just call her up?”

“No. That is what I am trying to say. Vissan left our society. She gouged out her Companion and went to live in the wilderness.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Vissan was a great geneticist, but she had developed a device the High Gray Council could not countenance. In fact, the local High Grays called me and asked my opinion of it. I did not want to see research suppressed, but the High Grays felt they had no choice, given what Vissan had done.”

“Good Christ, you make it sound as though she created some sort of genetic weapon!”

“What? No, no, of course not. She was not a lunatic. The device Vissan built was a…a ‘codon writer,’ I suppose would be the correct phrase. It could be programmed to output any sequence of deoxyribonucleic acid or ribonucleic acid imaginable, along with associated proteins. If you could think it up, Vissan’s codon writer could produce it.”

“Really? Wow! That sounds amazingly useful.”

“It was too useful, at least according to the High Gray Council. You see, among many other things, it allowed the production of…of…I am not sure of your word: the half-sets of chromosomes that exist in sex cells.”

“Haploid sets,” said Mary. “The twenty-three—excuse me, twenty- four chromosomes—that are found in sperm or eggs.”

“Exactly.”

“But why would that be a problem?” asked Mary.

“Because of our system of justice,” said Lurt. “Do you not see? When we sterilize a criminal and his or her close relatives, we are preventing them from producing haploid chromosome sets; we are preventing them from being able to reproduce. But Vissan’s codon writer would have allowed the sterilized to circumvent their punishment, and still pass their genes on to the next generation, by simply programming the device to produce chromosomes for them containing their own genetic information.”

“And that’s why the device was banned?”

“Exactly,” said Lurt. “The High Grays ordered the research halted—and Vissan was furious. She said she could not be part of a society that suppressed knowledge, and so she left.”

“So…so Vissan is living off the land?”

Lurt nodded. “It is easy enough to do. As youths, we are all trained in the required skills.”

“But…but it’s soon going to be the dead of winter.”

“Doubtless she will have built a cabin or some other shelter. In any event, Vissan’s codon writer is the device you need. There was only one prototype built, before the High Gray Council banned it. Normally, of course, nothing can go missing in this world: the Companion implants see and record all. But Vissan disposed of the prototype after she had gouged out her Companion, and while she was alone. The prototype likely still exists, and it is clearly the ideal tool for making the hybrid child you desire.”

“If I can only find it,” said Mary.

“Exactly,” said Lurt. “If you can only find it.”

Mary’s permanent Companion implant had to be installed by a Neanderthal surgeon. Prior to the operation, Mary had returned to the equipment room above the Debral mine where her temporary unit had originally been strapped on, since that was the only place at which its clasps would open. Then, accompanied by two burly Neanderthal enforcers, Mary had been taken to the hospital in Saldak Center.