The Golden Space by Pamela Sargent Read Free Book Online Page A

could read her thoughts. Teno’s eyes were Krol’s gray ones, impossible to read, always distant. She saw the quiet, mildly curious expression on her child’s face and was suddenly frightened.
    She realized that Chane was staring at her. Her worries must be showing on her face. She smiled reassuringly. His sad eyes met hers; he did not smile back. Then he turned his head toward the window.
    She felt like reaching out to him, holding him, and the force of her desire surprised her. But she restrained herself, and the moment passed.
     
     
    When the children were two and a half years old, it became customary to take them to the recreation hall and let them play together under the supervision of a few parents and psychologists. Kelii Morgan, who had once been a teacher and was now a parent, was often with them.
    The children responded to him in their restrained fashion. They were patient when the affectionate Kelii laughed or hugged them impulsively, but they enjoyed the folk stories and myths he had learned from his Welsh and Hawaiian forebears. They responded most to tales of a quest for some great piece of knowledge. They heard the humorous stories, too, but never laughed.
    Josepha came often to see them at play. The children were already used to one another, having visited each other’s homes frequently. They liked new places and had never clung to a parent in fear. But their play seemed to her a solemn affair. She had expected rivalries, fussing over toys, laughter, teasing, a few tears.
    Instead, she saw red-headed Nenum taking apart a toy space city, peering at the different levels and at the tiny painted lake and trees at its center while Ramli looked on. When Ramli grabbed one level, Josepha expected Nenum to become possessive. But the two began to reassemble it together, whispering all the while.
    She saw Teno play with a set of Russian dolls, removing each wooden doll from a larger one until the smallest doll was discovered. When Dawli, the frail-looking child of Teofilo Schmidt, came to Teno’s side, Teno willingly yielded the dolls and crawled off in search of another toy.
    It was all strange to her. If one played alone, it was because the child wanted to be alone, not because the others left the child out. Josepha searched for tears or the formation of childish cliques, and saw only inquisitiveness and cooperation. Even the muscular, big-boned Kelii, who seemed to be their favorite adult, got no special affection. If he held a picture book on his spacious lap, a child might climb up and sit there, but only to see the illustrations more clearly.
    They never misbehaved, at least not in the normal way. If a child wandered off, pursued shortly by a worried parent or psychologist, the young one was usually found investigating a plant or a toy or how a toilet worked. If they were told not to play with the computers until they were shown how to push the buttons, they listened, asked questions, and tried to understand the machines.
    On one occasion, Ramli had punched Teno in the stomach. Teno had retaliated with a blow to the arm. Each cried out in pain as Josepha, worried and at the same time almost relieved by the show of normality, rose to her feet to stop it. But the battle was over. The two had learned that violence caused pain.
    Although she tried to ignore it, she often felt frustrated. Chane had become more withdrawn, making frequent calls to old friends late at night behind the closed doors of his study. The children could not reward her love with spontaneous displays of affection. She wondered how long it would be before a parent, bewildered by the lack of any real emotional contact with a child, might lash out at one of them.
     
     
    Josepha and Chane sat in the park with their children. The spring day was unseasonably warm, the blue sky cloudless. A week ago, a third birthday celebration had been held for all the children. The adults had been sociable and gregarious, the young ones solemn and