Watchstar by Pamela Sargent Read Free Book Online Page A

villages, the young ones go high into mountains taller than those here, mountains that touch the sky, while in other places they are sent out in boats on the salty lake which surrounds the world.” She spoke slowly, so that he could grasp all her words. “I have even heard that in the north, young people travel across a cold white moisture which covers the ground like a blanket to places so cold that water stands still and solid. But the custom is the same everywhere. You must have your own ordeal, or how would you know when you are grown?”
    He said, “That is barbaric and cruel.”
    “Who are you to pass judgement?”
    “I must say what I think. I would refuse to go.”
    “You would have to go, or you would be cast out.”
    He stretched out a hand toward her. She kept her arms at her sides. He withdrew his hand.
    “What is your ordeal like?” she asked.
    “We do not have that kind of thing, not something that might kill us,” he said. “We have other things. We must study and learn, we must master many fields of study and then decide which one we wish to specialize in, and what will be our work.”
    “What are fields of study?”
    He shrugged. “Cybernetics, anthropology, astrophysics, different types of engineering, genetics, history, those sorts of things.”
    It sounded like gibberish to her, a chant, words running together in a stream; she could not tell whether he had said one thing or many. She thought of a field of study and saw the boy on a plain, roaming over it as he learned about its plants, animals, and weather.
    “I think I see,” she said. “You learn some things, then you learn one thing more than others. Is that it?”
    “It is something like that. When we decide on what we want to do most, we are adults. There are some things so difficult or demanding only a few can do them.”
    Daiya puzzled over his statements, wondering why one would want to know only a few things. Those in the village who lived long enough could know everything there was to know. “What thing is the hardest?” she asked.
    “I do not know. Perhaps raising our children.”
    Daiya began to laugh. She tried to restrain herself, then noticed that Reiho was smiling a little. “That is very strange,” she said between giggles. “You have men and women, don't you? Surely their feelings tell them how to make love.”
    “I said raising children. We all have them, we all contribute our genetic material to the wombs, but only a few are skilled enough to raise them properly, though the rest of us can spend time with them when we wish to do so.”
    She shook her head; he used strange words to describe lovemaking. “I am sorry for laughing. We all raise our own children, those who pass the ordeal are considered fit to have them. We must have many, because many die.”
    The boy wrinkled his brows. “It sounds like a very hard life.”
    She shrugged. She had never thought of it as hard, knowing, at least until now, that it was the same everywhere. “It's no harder than living in the sky,” she said, waving her hand.
    “Why must you go through this ordeal?” he asked.
    “I have already said why. We must become adults.”
    “Why must you go through it to become adults?”
    She folded her legs and sat on her heels. “Here it is,” she said. “As children, our thoughts are weak and confused. Whatever trouble they may cause can be controlled. I have a sister, Silla, she is very young, and I must often speak to her with my voice, as I am doing now with you, and listen to hers, for she has not yet mastered the ability to project her thoughts clearly.” She gazed into Reiho's eyes and saw that he understood her so far. “As we grow, our minds grow stronger, and we must learn something even harder, how to control our minds. It's difficult sometimes. I threw you into your craft here, I should not have done it, I might have hurt you. You see that a village could not survive if it had many who would do these things.”
    The boy