2312 by Kim Stanley Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

looking left at some motion, he saw another person: Swan. Surprised, he waved to her, and she lifted her chin as she continued to watch the cheetah kill. The mother was now teaching the kittens how to eat a deer, not that they needed much instruction there. Wahram surveyed the scene. The lit part of the sunline was now far toward the fore end of the terrarium, its light slanting back with a sunset tint. Masses of grass clumps waved in the wind. It felt like an ancient moment.
    Swan walked over to him and ascended the knoll. It was going to be a little embarrassing to be found out here alone, which in some parks was not legal, and in general was not considered prudent. Then again, here she was too.
    He nodded his greeting, formal but not unfriendly. “Unusual luck to see such a thing,” he remarked as she approached.
    “Yes,” she said. “Are you out here alone?”
    “I am. And you?”
    “Alone, yes.” She was looking at him curiously. “I’m surprised to find you out here, I must confess. I didn’t know you liked this kind of thing.”
    “Mercury isn’t really where you would find out.”
    She gestured at the cats. “You aren’t worried?”
    “They’re scared of people, I find.”
    “Well, but if they’re hungry…”
    “But they never are, that’s the thing. There’s so much easy prey.”
    “That’s true. But if they have never run into people before, they’ll just think of you as a kind of chimp. Very tasty, no doubt. A delicacy. You hear of it happening. They have no experience of being hunted.”
    “I’m aware we could be prey,” Wahram said. “I carry a little stunner just in case. Don’t you?”
    “I don’t,” she admitted after a pause. “I mean, sometimes I do, but mostly to avoid spending a night in jail.”
    “Indeed.”
    She tilted her head, as if listening to a voice in her ear. She had had her qube implanted, Alex had told him, back when the idea was fashionable. “Speaking of eating,” she said, “shall we get something?”
    “My pleasure.”
    They returned to the perimeter fence. When they reached it, they found a little group at the kiosk; these people saw Swan and crowded around her, greeted her cheerfully. “What do you think?” they asked her. “How do you like it now that it’s all grown up?”
    “It’s looking good,” she told them in a reassuring tone. “We saw a cheetah take down a pampas deer. I thought maybe there were too many deer, actually, what’s that about?”
    One of the group said deer were high because cats were still low, and Swan asked some questions about that. Wahram gathered that predator-prey populations went up and down in sine wave patterns tied together, and predators moved up or down a quarter of a cycle behind prey; there were further complications that Wahram couldn’t follow from what they were saying.
    When Swan was done with her conversation, she led him along the street back to the town.
    “So they knew you designed this terrarium,” Wahram said as they walked.
    “Yes, I’m surprised anyone remembers. I hardly do myself.”
    “So you were an ecologist?”
    “A designer. It was a long time ago. I don’t like a lot of what I did, to tell the truth. These Ascensions are too much. We need all the terraria to be conserving species gone on Earth. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I wouldn’t say that to the people who live here. They’re into this, it’s their place.”
    They hiked up the curve of the cylinder several degrees. A cloud they had seen overhead at sunset, hugging the land above like an orange shawl, had come round the cylinder and now immersed them in a diffuse fog. Things lost their shadows in the misty twilight, and the land above went invisible, the few lights on the other side like blurred stars. It seemed a different world now, an outie rather than an innie.
    Wahram explained that he had signed up to run dishwashers in the Saturnian restaurant, so they made their back to the Saturn House in Plum Lake