By Daniel Frisano

Translated from Italian by Sarah Jane Webb

PART ONE

1.

On an early-winter morning, Baxti-LY parked her new two-wheeler in her allotted space, as she did every working day, and removed her heavy jacket. While placing it in the cloakroom compartment near the exit of the office car park, she caught sight of her friend and colleague Hawiya-MT – who lived nearby – arriving on foot as she often did.

"Hi, Hawiya," said Baxti. "Hey, you have new eyes!" she added, surprised.

"Yes, I've indulged this little whim," replied her friend with a chuckle.

"This isn't like you at all: you're always so serious!" teased Baxti, as they made their way towards their respective offices. GraviDyn produced very popular vehicles: fast-moving and noiseless, these were capable of reducing energy consumption to a minimum by exploiting miniscule gravitational differences caused by the imperfect homogeneity of the mass of the Earth. Hawiya worked in the sales department, managing clients in the entire north-western area, while Baxti, in the science division, studied the possible interference of vehicles in the planet's gravitational field. The two were on different levels of the company's org chart: in theory, "unequal" relations were discouraged by the Government, but a blind eye was turned on small-to-medium firms such as GraviDyn, knowing that opportunities for friendship were limited.

"Yesterday was Periodic Cranium Maintenance day so, while I was at it, I had my eyes changed," said Hawiya. "I was fed up with black. My former pair would have done for at least another fifteen solar cycles, but I saw these hazel ones and decided to try them. I can keep them for ten days; if I don't like them, I can turn them in and get my old ones back. For the moment I think they look kind of weird, but I might get used to them in the next few days."

"Oh yes, I remember you mentioning this. Funny though, another girl was missing in your department, so they asked one of ours to replace her. It doesn't happen much, they're usually pretty good at staff leave planning," replied Baxti.

"Yeah, it hardly ever happens. I wonder who she was, and what her reason was for not being there," said Hawiya. "My absence was no news, it's all down in the register. These things are done by rotation, so there's never more than one person away per department in twenty days. Anyway, I don't think GraviDyn will go bust for so little!"

The two were walking towards the entrance, along with other colleagues. Once they reached the main hall, their roads would split – Hawiya would head for the second floor, with the other sales people, and Baxti for the science lab on the third floor.

"You could have reminded me, though: I had to sit in the staff canteen with that drip, what's-her-name, the new admin girl," said Baxti reproachfully. "As soon as she saw me on my own, she sat down and buttonholed me. When she starts, there's no stopping her! She's like a vulture closing in on its prey: there's just no escape. Two girls from production had just left the table, so she caught me defenceless. She started ranting about all the timesheets she has to deal with, or whatever, and went on and on till my food kind of congealed half-way down, and I had stomach-ache all afternoon. Warn me next time, will you?"

"Since when am I supposed to tell you everything I do? The staff leave planner is there in full view: you knew perfectly well that I'd be away!" replied Hawiya, her voice betraying a trace of unintentional irritation. They'd just entered the hall and Hawiya's words resounded among the tall walls, making heads turn.

"Ooh, we are touchy today!" retorted Baxti, startled by such an outburst from her friend, whose countenance, usually so reserved, seemed almost to counterbalance her own more ebullient personality.

"Sorry Baxti, I didn't mean to raise my voice," Hawiya reassured her. "I didn't sleep well and I'm a little edgy. I couldn't put my book down last night, so I sat up reading until the small hours."

"You were reading until late at night? With your new eyes? You do realize that you shouldn't strain them for the first two or three days, don't you?" scolded Baxti. "I bet it was one of those ancient history books you're so keen on lately!"

"Right," replied Hawiya with a smile. "You see? I don't need to tell you anything, you know me so well! Yes, my eyes did sting a little this morning, but not for long. And I'm still in time to get my old ones back!"

"I don't know... hazel eyes suit you, I think you should keep these," suggested Baxti, turning to climb the stairs to the lab. "But don't treat them so roughly! See you later in the canteen, if you're there!"

"Yes, I'll try not to leave you alone with that blabbermouth again! See you later!"

* * *

In her office, Hawiya checked out on the colleague who'd been absent the day before: she worked in order processing, and apparently was out of the office again. If she didn't get there at the last moment, the inevitable backlog would have to be distributed evenly between her teammates, and they could all forget about their lunch break. Poor Baxti risked being submerged again by the torrential verbosity of the new colleague from admin.

Unplanned leaves were rare, though they did occur occasionally, when someone was moved to a different department, for instance, or found a job elsewhere, and her replacement wasn't ready yet – HR certainly wasn't the company's most efficient department. Such events were uncommon but not impossible; and they did, after all, introduce a little variety in the day-to-day routine.

But enough of this nonsense: it was time to get down to yesterday's reports from sales reps, and take a strip off those who weren't pulling their weight; plan on-the-spot visits; review the draft of the new catalogue; in short, her usual office duties. As it happened, their colleague didn't turn up, so Hawiya had to work through her lunch hour, entering orders – and leaving Baxti to her fate.

By the end of the day her new eyes were sore again, and she was tired. She skipped her scheduled workout at the gym, indulged in a light dinner a little earlier than usual and went straight to bed to catch up on lost sleep, neglecting her history books for once.

2.

"OK, you're entitled to be a little mad," admitted Hawiya with a giggle, on seeing a frowning Baxti approach with her tray, accompanied by Luxoq, a colleague from the science department who occasionally had lunch with them.

"And why should I be? Did you drive into my brand-new scooter in the car park?" enquired Baxti.

"No, no, your scooter has nothing to do with it: it's such a lovely day that I walked again. It's very mild, for the time of year. I was referring to yesterday; our whole department had to skip the lunch-hour break because of the extra workload," said Hawiya.

"Don't worry, the same thing happened in ours", informed her Baxti. "Speaking of lovely weather, why don't we go out in the garden and enjoy some fresh air?"

"Good idea." The three made for the outdoor tables, a few of which had already been taken by others wishing to enjoy the warm winter sun.

"One of the girls in our office was also absent yesterday," resumed Baxti. "Our oscillometer specialist, who usually deals with all her instruments herself. We had to take over and were all a bit rusty, so we spent most of the morning going over manuals: calibrating those things properly is a headache, if you're not an expert. You only realise how important a colleague is when she's not there. It's really strange that so many people have gone absent in the last few days".

"Looking on the bright side, at least you had a chance to refresh your knowledge of those instruments: it might come in useful, sooner or later: you never know!" said Hawiya soothingly.

"But why the hell don't they give us advance notice? I could have studied the manual the night before, at home, without all the hassle," exclaimed Luxoq. "Hey, now I see you in full daylight, you've got new eyes, haven't you?"

"Right, I changed them the day before yesterday," confirmed Hawiya.

"By the way, where did you get them? Unless it's top secret, of course!" interjected Baxti, glad of a change from office talk.

"No, it's not a secret at all!" replied Hawiya, in the best of moods after a good night's sleep. "They recently opened a workshop on the road for S837. It's less than half an hour from here by scooter. Pywa, one of the trainers at my gym, recommended it. They use innovative methods to regenerate tissues. Just think: they change your whole skeleton in one day, then you spend a couple of days in bed to recover, so it takes three days in all, instead of the usual five or six, or more. And they always have something new on offer. Pywa took advantage of this and booked an overhaul of her digestive system. But they don't do everything: they don't do skin or hair, for instance. I can send you their address and full details later from my office, if you like."

"Yes please," said Luxoq. "I have to recalibrate my nervous system in the autumn: I might try them. I'm not entirely satisfied with my workshop lately. They're kind of resting on their laurels, I reckon: if they lost a few customers they might get a bit more with it".

"You're telling me! I'm in sales, don't forget!" said Hawiya, laughing. "Mind if I go straight back to work? I'd like to get all my backlog out of the way by this evening."

"No problem, we'll be going back in a moment, anyway", replied Luxoq.

"By the way, how about dinner at my place tonight, the three of us? We could rent a film or something," suggested Hawiya, rising to her feet.

"This evening, let me think... Sorry, I have another date, but I'll be happy to come some other time," said Luxoq.

"Baxti?" asked Hawiya.

"Of course, I'd love to. Not too early, though. Would eight-fiftyish be OK?"

"Fine, see you later!" added Hawiya, heading back in.

3.

"You're not still obsessing over that hominid matter, are you?" enquired Baxti, half amused, half exasperated. The two friends were chatting after dinner at Hawiya's. "I wonder how you can find the life of those animals of any interest."

"But that's the whole point," replied Hawiya pensively. "We've always referred to them as 'animals', but they were very similar to us humans. Are we so sure they were animals?"

"What else could they have been? Plants?" Baxti laughed wholeheartedly, reminding Hawiya of why she was so fond of her friend. Her unselfconscious cheerfulness was heart-warming. She almost lost her train of thought, and with her subsequent comment actually appeared to be switching to another topic.

"Have you ever asked yourself where we come from?" she enquired.

"Yes, I used to live in B143, right in the centre; and I happen to know that, up to around thirty cycles ago, you lived in a small town near L652." This time Baxti collapsed sideways on the sofa, laughing uncontrollably at her own silly joke. Hawiya struggled to remain serious – she always found her friend's hilarity contagious – but this time she had something on her mind.

"Stop fooling around! I'm talking about the Question of Origins!" resumed Hawiya, trying to bring the conversation back on track.

"Hey! I got that, you know?" her friend retorted. "The Question of Origins was sorted out ages ago, if there ever was such a question. I mean, there's no such thing as origins. We've always existed. Space and time are at once closed and unlimited, and together they make up a four-dimensional surface that closes in on itself and is perfectly visible in the fifth dimension, appearing definitive and unchangeable to a hexa-dimensional being – just as we four-dimensional beings can see and easily define a closed and unlimited two-dimensional surface, such as that of a sphere.

"Two-dimensional beings, immobile and eternal on the sphere, can't see it because they lack a dimension (two, actually); so they call one of their dimensions 'time', and the other 'space', to make their physics more interesting. They ask themselves where they come from, in space and time, and fail to understand that actually they don't come from anywhere: they exist. Period. It's the same for us: we call one of our four dimensions 'time', and the other three 'space', and have no way of appreciating a penta-dimensional reality.

"But all it takes is a small theoretical effort to explain everything. The only thing I still don't quite get is how many dimensions there are, whether their number is infinite; and, if so, whether a similar reasoning can be applied to the number of dimensions itself – assuming that's of any use: existing evidence suggests that it probably isn't. But all humans know this, so why do you ask?"

"Because I'm not buying it. For a start, according to official records, we're supposed to be on Earth because our original planet became inhospitable when the star it orbited was close to collapse. But we don't know its name, where it was, what became of it – whether the star turned into a white dwarf or whatever – or anything else. Don't you find that strange?" Hawiya turned towards her with a quizzical look. Baxti shrugged: it wasn't so important, she seemed to imply, no-one was interested in history, there were lots of things to cultivate that were far less boring.

"Why doesn't a single human remember where we lived before?" insisted Hawiya.

"Because not a single one of us is interested," replied her friend, in mock exasperation. "Our brain has huge – but not infinite – storage capacity, and we all prefer to use it for other things."

"It doesn't seem plausible to me," said Hawiya. "I can understand that the topic might not be so popular, but how is it possible that, out of all the hundreds of millions of people in the world, no-one is interested in preserving the memory of the last planet we lived on before moving to Earth? Plus, we know that even the smallest inter-galactic transfer – to move, say, a few hundred people – involves a massive investment of energy and materials.

"How did we manage to move an entire planet? Where did we find the resources for so many and such large vehicles? And the hydrogen fuel? You're going to say that resources in the universe are virtually unlimited: then why aren't we using them to explore other planets? Aren't we curious? There are just too many questions."

"Glad you said so yourself," interjected Baxti, giving her friend a sidelong glance. "Too many questions, leading nowhere. Our existence is so cushy enough for us to seek complications where there aren't any. Your questions are grains of sand in a mechanism that works a treat. Blow the sand away and the cogs will go on turning." Yet she seemed more intent on convincing herself than her friend.

"So what about the hominids?" resumed Hawiya, going back to her starting point.

"What can I say," replied Baxti. "They brought about their own extinction, who knows how many thousands of solar cycles ago, by rendering this planet uninhabitable, a condition that persisted for a long time after their disappearance. Their economy was based on fossil fuels, which goes to show how reckless and primitive they were: far more similar to animals than to us humans.

"Little by little they poisoned the air, making life on the planet impossible for themselves and for many other species, some of which became extinct even before the hominids did. Once they were gone, Earth gradually repaired the damages it had suffered: habitability was restored relatively soon, and after a while we arrived."

"That's something else I find hard to swallow," said Hawiya. "It seems to me that hominids weren't that primitive. They could express themselves and communicate, albeit in a coarse and rudimentary manner, and proved they could make some sense of their society, despite their occasional tendency to attack one another until one of the two parties destroyed the other, or the second surrendered, submitting to the authority of the first."

"There, you see?" put in Baxti. "Perhaps they annihilated one another reciprocally during one of those... what were they called? I've forgotten the word."

"Wars," replied Hawiya. "That's what they called them. I don't know: that's possible, but through studying ancient history I've developed the idea that they weren't animals after all, not entirely, at least. You can find many affinities between their society and ours."

"Yes, and that of ants, too! They live in large cities as we do, don't they?" blurted Baxti, giggling. "Yet they're still animals. You may find affinities, but a fundamental distinction remains: while we're permanent, all animals cease to function sooner or later, and must continue to produce copies of themselves if they wish to avoid extinction of their species. Those poor hominids had a very short life, few tens of thousands of days at the most, and were constantly trying to reproduce, their miserable existence revolving around this need. Not to mention the complications they had to face owing to differentiation between the sexes.

"I'm so glad that we're permanent and, above all, that we don't have to put up with the presence of the other sex! Male hominids were unreasonable, violent and quarrelsome: society couldn't last in the hands of those beasts, nor could it evolve beyond the elementary stage that those savages lived in. In fact, they ended up destroying themselves."

"Sure. At least, that's what we sometimes see in sci-fi films. Yet, for the last several days I've done nothing but ask myself if their extinction came about in the way we've always thought." A veil of sadness descended on Hawiya's features.

"Go on, don't brood, I hate to see you looking so down-in-the-mouth. Let's move on to more amusing topics," went Baxti, pulling herself up and sitting straight-backed on the edge of the sofa.

"You're right, I'm probably getting carried away," admitted Hawiya, placing her hand over Baxti's.

4.

Sometime later, as she started along the path leading to the company's entrance hall, Baxti glimpsed through the large glass doors a group of colleagues engaged in an animated discussion before the bulletin board.

"Hi Luxoq, what's up?" she asked her department colleague as soon as she spotted her.

"Important news, but I wouldn't call it good," she replied. "The company is undergoing a reorganisation, merging a few departments together. We're to become part of production, while sales will be absorbed by administration. Only inventory and logistics will remain unchanged for the moment, which doesn't mean they won't suffer the same fate, sooner or later."

"Well, this is a surprise!" said Baxti. "Business didn't seem to be doing so badly. On the contrary, according to our sales people, turnover is on an upward trend. In fact, you may have noticed that there are fewer and fewer of the competition's models around. So why take such drastic measures?"

"The memo from top management doesn't offer much by way of explanation, it just mentions 'workforce restructuring': that could mean anything or nothing," replied Luxoq pensively. "It must have something to do with those recent repeated absences. I can't think of any other plausible explanation".

"You could be right, in fact, in the last twenty to thirty days we've had to be all over the place, stepping in for someone or other," said Baxti, trying to catch a glimpse of the memos above her colleagues' heads. "It says here that we'll receive precise instructions from our respective heads of department. Well, all we can do is go to the lab and wait for Rhowe to tell us how to conduct ourselves. I see chaos ahead."

"Yeah," sighed Luxoq, joining Baxti as she headed for the lab. "Come on, let's find out what's coming, and get it over with."

* * *

As anticipated, the following days in the science department were almost entirely taken up with activities associated with the company's reorganisation, starting with the move of all equipment to a large ground-floor room previously occupied by the vehicle production lines, and now cleared for the purpose. Baxti and Luxoq, together with the head of department and the only other remaining 'scientific' colleague, patiently took charge of transferring all the delicate instruments, as well as their computers and archives: an operation which took three full days.

Then came the retraining phase. Within the framework of the new organisation, scientific staff were asked to do three-day shifts in the production department every fifteen days. Before that, of course, they needed to do a refresher course on the use of machinery and on the production chain, dividing five more days 50-50 between their normal tasks and prep for their new duties.

Then of course they had to adapt to a new timetable, new colleagues, the need to interrupt their work on a project and resume it four days later, et cetera. It was, in fact, a tough period for all concerned. Baxti occasionally got together with Hawiya who, in turn, was tied up with the merger between sales and administration, training new colleagues on procedures in use in their department; redistributing competence territories among the sales agents, after two of them had been called back to in-house duties; and so on.

At times she spotted Hawiya in the company of a colleague she'd never seen before, possibly a former sales agent. She also saw them leave work together one afternoon, towards the end of the company's transition period.

"Hey, Hawiya!" Baxti called her friend, who was approaching the gate with her new colleague.

"Hi, Baxti! How are you doing?" Hawiya turned and greeted her with a smile. "We haven't seen much of one another lately, we've all been so busy doing other things. The worse is over now, it seems, we just have to get used to our new tasks and the new work pace. How are things in your department?"

"More or less the same," replied Baxti. "Today was my third whole day in production, and I'm a wreck. Fortunately from tomorrow I'll be back in the lab for a few days in a row. We'll get used to it, sooner or later – it's not such a big deal."

"By the way, this is Ezrat", added Hawiya nodding towards her colleague.

"I'm Baxti, pleased to meet you."

"My pleasure," replied Ezrat, shaking her hand cordially. "I must be off now, my bus should be here shortly".

"See you," said Baxti to Ezrat. "Is she one of the sales reps now doing in-house duties?" she asked Hawiya, once their colleague had left.

"No, she's new," said Hawiya. "New to the company, and to the area. She moved somewhere nearby quite recently; before that, she lived in F552, I think. She's been assigned to order-entering and management, thank goodness. We really needed some fresh blood, we were at the end of our tether."

"You seem to get on well," added Baxti. "Are you busy tomorrow night? Would you like to come to dinner at my place?"

"Tomorrow? I... I don't think I can," replied Hawiya hesitatingly, "I've got something on."

"Oh, I see. Well, enjoy yourself. Let's make it some other time. See you," replied Baxti, heading for the parking area. Hawiya's eyes followed her. Did she seem a little put out, or was it just her impression?

5.

Hawiya did get on well with Ezrat, not least because she alone shared, at least to a certain extent, her curiosity about the past. That's what the two were discussing, when they got back to Ezrat's place after dining out.

"Are you really interested in ancient history, Ezrat?" asked Hawiya. "It's certainly not a popular topic, nor is it too favourably viewed."

"Truth be told, this is a recent passion of mine. For some reason I started to ask myself what happened to the hominids," her friend replied. "I mean, we all know that they became extinct, but I find it so odd that their species, at least semi-civilized, should die out like that, give itself up to its fate, seemingly without making the least effort to survive."

"Now you're asking for it!" countered Hawiya gaily. "This is my favourite topic: once I start, I'm on a roll."

"I don't mind a bit, quite the opposite," said Ezrat. "So what have you discovered, so far?"

"Well, as you may know, hominids – although biologically very similar to us and capable of setting up an organised social structure – proved to have marked self-destructive tendencies, as well as inexplicable convictions and obsessions," explained Hawiya.

"I know of their 'wars', as they called them, and also of their obsession with a concept they called 'money', though I don't quite get what that was," remarked Ezrat.

"No-one does," resumed Hawiya. "It might have been a mineral or other substance existing in nature in those days: it was certainly rare because, from the confused and sometimes contradictory information we have on hominids, we gather that they constantly lamented not having enough of this substance, and that they couldn't live without. Their wars apparently derived from this necessity, though we can't be sure. This matter was certainly a source of great tension in their society. Strange as it may seem, another source of tension, and a possible cause of wars, may have been the nuance of their skin colour. They attached great importance to this, which was often an excuse for strife. They tended to come together by skin colour, and the groups didn't always get on with one another".

"But it doesn't make sense," interjected Ezrat. "Colour variations are common not only among different animal breeds, but also among human races. Why should this be a reason for hatred?"

"I know, it doesn't make sense," admitted Hawiya. "But not much of the available literature on hominids is entirely convincing: we can't believe everything. At times I suspect that some information may have been edited after their extinction to make them appear more savage than they actually were, because there are aspects of their pseudo-civilisation I find inexplicable.

"For instance, there are records of simulated wars involving most of the population, in which hardly anyone was killed and violence was kept to a minimum. Two mini-armies with different-colour uniforms were chosen to confront one another on a small battlefield, according to certain rules. Present on the field were a few judges, in charge of overseeing the respect of these rules. At the end of the mini-war, the winner was appointed: don't ask me by what criteria."

"And this was enough to give vent to their aggressive instincts?" asked Ezrat.

"Apparently it was, to a certain extent. The majority of hominids, especially the males, watched these mini-battles, in person or remotely," continued Hawiya. "Male hominids allowed themselves to become so absorbed in such activities, violent or otherwise, that they grew disinterested in the females. Concerned about the conservation of their species, women started to experiment with ways to produce babies without a male, but weren't very successful."

"In fact, they became extinct," added Ezrat. "Because of the segregation of the sexes; or because, by constantly burning enormous quantities of natural resources, they ended up making the planet uninhabitable, and possibly became infertile as a result of the almost unstoppable pollution; or because of their murderous instincts; or because they were submerged in or intoxicated by the waste they continued to produce in unsustainable amounts; or through a combination of all these factors. We know this part, at least."

"I'm still not convinced," said Hawiya. "As well as experimenting with new methods of reproduction, the females apparently discovered a way of extending their lives and remain fertile for longer, in order to exploit the few occasions of insemination left, if nothing else."

"I suppose so, but it doesn't make much difference," agreed Ezrat, who actually gave the impression that she knew more than she'd let on. "According to the most accredited theories, the distance between the two sexes grew more and more, owing also to slow migrations, until each became extinct on its own. Maybe this occurred less quickly for the females, if they did live longer; in any case, all possibilities of reproduction being lost, the hominid species sooner or later met its end, accelerated by the reckless use of fuels and by ensuing residual gas saturation, which forced them to live in underground cities. Segregated, with very few chances to interact directly – and no reasonable possibility to repair the damages caused to the planet within a period compatible with their lifetime – they inevitably faced extinction."

"And after a while, as it happened, we came along," added Hawiya sarcastically. "From a planet that no-one remembers, on unknown vehicles of which not a trace remains. What's more, we're very similar to the hominids, both biologically and in terms of social structure. We even use almost the same terms to define them and ourselves, 'hominids' and 'humans'. Don't you find these coincidences suspicious?"

"Actually, I don't consider them coincidences," objected Ezrat. "Hominids were the product of this planet: they adapted biologically to its climate and natural conditions. If we chose Earth as our new home it's because it suits our own biological make-up, so of course we must be similar to the hominids. A sort of transitive anthropic principle, if you like. If we can, and actually chose to, live where they lived, it's precisely because we are similar to them."

"But just think, supposing female hominids were so successful at extending their lives that they became permanent, as we are? Supposing they managed to avoid extinction of their species? Why exclude this possibility?"

"You know very well that's not the case!" argued Ezrat with a forced chuckle. "Had they really become permanent, they'd still be somewhere on the planet. Tell me, have you ever seen one? Where are they?"

"Everywhere," replied Hawiya calmly. "We are they. I, you, all of us. We're evolved hominids, who discovered permanence very many solar cycles ago."

"No, no, no: no way!" exclaimed Ezrat. "If that were so, then why can't we remember having been hominids? Why didn't we at least record the discoveries and procedures that enabled us to become permanent?"

"Firstly because it happened in very remote times, and our memory certainly can't reach that far back," continued Hawiya. "But above all because we chose to forget, and deliberately omitted to preserve tangible documentation. If this is really how it went, neither the transition, nor being powerless witnesses to the extinction of the male hominids, can have been much fun. Also, if you think about it, who would like to remember that way of life, even before their extinction? If that's the way we were, we reproduced as all other mammals do, and therefore..."

"Stop!" exclaimed Ezrat. "That's enough. I can't even conceive that we descend from those beasts."

"We don't descend from them," concluded Hawiya. "We are them. We were born as hominids, we grew up as their young did, and as the young of animals do, and once all attempts at reproduction failed, we evolved, or some of us did, until we became permanent."

"I think I'll go to bed, it's late and I'm getting a head-ache," said Ezrat brusquely. "See you at work?"

"OK, message received, I'll leave you in peace," replied Hawiya with a sigh.

She got to her feet, said goodnight and left. So, she thought as she made her way home, here's another one who'll avoid me like the plague. But maybe they're right. With this ancient history business I'm becoming alienated. I should just forget about it, as all the others do – be all work, TV, gym, shopping, outings and concerts in my leisure time – and not ask myself too many questions.

That night, again, she slept very little.

6.

Speaking of concerts, a music festival was scheduled a few days later, Ezrat had invited Hawiya to go with her, and she'd been happy to accept. In the office, the work pace was once more acceptable, the new duties assimilated, the frequency of staff leaves back to normal, and everyone was glad to indulge in some leisure-time amusements.

Hawiya had tried to reach Baxti on the phone, but her friend had been cold and evasive, and had declined to take part in any get-together. She's probably stressed out, thought Hawiya, it's been a tough period for all of us.

Concerts were held in daytime, in a large park, and followed in the evening by more entertainment, exhibitions and indoor refreshments. Hawiya was chatting with Ezrat, before a warm drink, when she saw Baxti moving among some nearby tables.

"Hey, Baxti! We're over here!" she called out, waving her arm. "I didn't see you at the concert. But... is anything wrong?" she added, noticing her friend's strange expression.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," replied Baxti sitting down with them. "I wanted to come with Luxoq, but she called me this morning, very upset: she didn't feel like going out and, after what she told me, I didn't much either. Particularly after we spoke again later. In the end I forced myself to come, at least for a breath of fresh air and some distraction."

"Luxoq was upset, you say? Has something nasty happened?" asked Hawiya, in alarm.

"I don't think 'nasty' covers it," replied Baxti. "Anyway, this morning's plan was that Luxoq would pick up her friend Akshoyya – I think you know her – then collect me, and we'd come here together."

"And so?" asked Hawiya, who had no idea what was coming.

"Listen, I'll repeat what I heard from Luxoq, who was so distraught she could hardly speak. She reached Akshoyya's house this morning, rang the doorbell several times and got no answer. So she tried calling her on the phone: nothing, it was off. She had the keys, they're very friendly, so in the end she decided to go in. Akshoyya was in bed, stone-cold, lifeless. Luxoq immediately called an ambulance and, while she waited, turned on Akshoyya's computer to check the last time she'd backed up her brain data..."

"But one shouldn't touch anything!" interjected Hawiya, breaking the silence after her friend's pause. "That should be done exclusively by the medics and authorities."

"In fact, Luxoq immediately regretted what she'd done, particularly because there was no trace of any data on the PC. It was empty, its memory wiped clean. And now Luxoq is afraid she might get the blame."

"I don't think she runs any risks," put in Ezrat, who hadn't opened her mouth yet. "If she didn't tamper with the PC, she can easily prove it. It's all registered at provincial headquarters, isn't it? It will be easy to trace back the origin of the failure."

"Sure, but that isn't the half of it," put in Baxti, plucking up the courage with a deep breath. "Eventually the ambulance arrived and took Akshoyya to the hospital for the recovery procedures foreseen in those very rare cases where someone is found lifeless. You know, the ones periodically explained at refresher courses, with the repair or replacement of faulty organs that caused the event, and the reconstruction of the complete brain map, starting from the latest data backup on the home or the provincial PC. Luxoq went to the hospital on her own, to get some news, and after a while they informed her... that it hadn't been possible to restore Akshoyya to life. There was no backup of her brain data, even at provincial headquarters."

"But this has never happened!" exclaimed Hawiya. "Or rather, I can't remember hearing anything of the sort before. Just imagine forgetting to deposit our periodic backup in the memory of provincial headquarters: we'd never hear the end of it! Those copies are always monitored for integrity, and they even make an extra copy, as a further, redundant safety measure: but actually, this is never used because cases of people found lifeless, or whose body is totally destroyed, are extremely rare. And in those very few cases all they need is a copy of the home computer, they don't even need to resort to the provincial one. But... what's the latest news?"

"The doctor who spoke with Luxoq had no further information," replied Baxti. "There should still be the backup that central Government files for everyone, but I don't think that's immediately accessible; and the hospital staff could not, or would not, give Luxoq any news. On the contrary, she ended up having to respond to Security – and very thoroughly. She called me a few hours ago, while waiting to be questioned, and I haven't heard from her since. I think I'll go home and try to call her again."

"Would you like us to come with you?" offered Ezrat.

"No thanks, don't bother, I'll go on my own," replied Baxti, getting to her feet.

Baxti eventually agreed to let Hawiya accompany her, while Ezrat went home on her own. During their journey the two friends spoke very little: their conjectures about what could have happened to Akshoyya inevitably came to a dead end; above all, neither of them had the courage to express the dreadful suspicion that the sudden absences repeatedly registered in recent weeks could be ascribed to similar cases. Hawiya offered to spend the night at Baxti's to keep her company, but her friend insisted that she preferred to be alone, so Hawiya took a taxi and got home just before midnight.

* * *

She'd only been home a few minutes when her doorbell rang. At this hour?

"Who is it?" asked Hawiya from behind the door.

"It's Ezrat. We need to talk," she heard, from the other side. The voice was, in fact, Ezrat's, but it sounded different.

"Is it important? It's rather late and I was about to go to bed," protested Hawiya.

"It is, or I wouldn't disturb you. Can you open the door? It's rather cold out here," continued Ezrat's unfamiliar voice. As Hawiya obliged, she was confronted by Ezrat and a person in uniform.

"This is Officer Ojren-SD of Security. And I'm officially Lieutenant Ezrat-KQ. Now that we've duly introduced ourselves, can we come in?" asked Ezrat.

"So you're... but then... o-of course," stammered Hawiya. "Please do. But I don't understand... is it because of... will it take long?"

"We'd better sit down," resumed Ezrat, once they were in the living room. As she proceeded, Hawiya listened in growing confusion. "I'll try to be concise and get straight to the point. As you may or may not have concluded yourself, the recent cases of missing people are mostly similar to the one Luxoq described to us today. In fact, they're all practically identical. A person is found lifeless and there's no way to retrieve her data, not even through worldwide servers. And while the Government has been investigating the matter for some time, no explanation or remedy has emerged yet. Needless to say, no effort has been spared in trying to find a solution. For reasons I don't wish to dwell on, the Government believes that you, Hawiya, could help solve the matter, and have sent me to persuade you to provide assistance."

"Me? And how do you think I could..." interjected Hawiya, astonished, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"My information is limited, but your possible contribution has to do with your interest in ancient history, of which you spoke to me at length," explained Ezrat.

"So... so all along you've been keeping up an act to gain my trust!" blurted Hawiya angrily. "I told you everything, and you encouraged me. I was taken in... how stupid of me!"

"The Government operates in the interest of the people, and in certain cases can request the contribution of a civilian considered suitable," proceeded Ezrat, unfazed. "Now, you are considered suitable, and I strongly recommend that you come with me to the capital for the relevant interviews."

"In other words, you're arresting me," said Hawiya, shifting her gaze from Ezrat to the officer, who had been sitting still with an unreadable expression throughout the entire conversation.

"We're not arresting you," replied Ezrat. "Only people who commit a crime get arrested, and this isn't your case. I said I 'recommend' that you come. You're not obliged to do so, although I'd personally advise you to accept."

"Supposing I refused?" asked Hawiya, summoning her dignity.

"If you refuse, we'll leave," retorted Ezrat, whose tone was anything but reassuring. "But be aware that you've been suspended from your job indefinitely. And I'm sure you've noticed that you're not so popular lately, with your colleagues and friends."

True. Recently she'd perceived... not overt hostility exactly, but unmistakable coldness, and not only in her friendship with Baxti, but in her social relations in general. She hadn't given the matter much thought, busy as she was with her new duties at work, and had mostly attributed this attitude to the stressful period they'd all been going through. Baxti may have been jealous of her (false) new friendship with Ezrat, but Hawiya wasn't overly concerned. Baxti was hot-tempered, and sometimes a little moody, but she'd get over it.

But what was left for her, at that point? A social circle in which she was no longer welcome, with Ezrat who no doubt would find ways to make things worse. One didn't mess with the Government. And after all, Ezrat was only a middle-ranking officer: needless to say, if Security big shots appeared on the scene, they'd be even more persuasive. She meditated in silence for half an hour or longer, while the others showed no sign of impatience or tension, nor did they urge a reply. They had evidently been trained to keep calm when handling such matters.

"You're not forcing me, but you're not giving me much choice," said Hawiya eventually, with a sigh. "Go with you to the capital, you said? When should we be leaving?"

"Immediately, if you like," replied officer Ojren promptly, speaking for the first time. Very crafty. Ezrat had successfully concluded the so-called 'persuading': now it was up to her subordinate to manage practical details.

Immediately? Hawiya closed her eyes. Yes, perhaps that's the best thing. What choice do I have? To move to a new city, start all over with a new job and a new circle of friends? No, they wouldn't let me. And I'd be seeing spies everywhere. What sort of a life would that be? Or stay here, and hope that everything returned as it was before? Even more improbable.

"Can I take a shower? Pack a suitcase?" she asked eventually, addressing Ojren.

"You can take all the time you need to freshen up," replied the officer. "As for luggage, you may bring what you want, but it's not necessary. You'll be provided with everything you need, including clothes to your taste. We'll wait outside, in the car. Then we'll take you to the airport and, from there, straight to the capital."

They hadn't even given her a time limit to get ready: half an hour, an hour, nothing. They would wait in the car, for hours, a whole day or more. There would always be someone waiting out there in the car – that's how the Government operated. Hawiya got to her feet and walked them to the door. She indulged in a long steaming-hot shower, then packed a bag with a few clothes and her usual travel kit. These she eventually left in her bedroom, walking out with nothing, not even her phone.

When she was within a few steps of the Security car, the officer got out and opened the door for her. Hawiya sat down, the car started off, and no-one opened their mouth until they reached the airport. It wasn't necessary. The silence was broken only by Ezrat who, minutes before they reached their destination, alerted the watch-keeping personnel by radio. Having passed a quick visual check at an entrance gate, they parked alongside a plane that was ready for departure.

Hawiya boarded, followed the crew's instructions, sat down, closed her eyes, and was fast asleep even before the craft took off.

PART TWO

7.

She was woken by small movements of her seat, rocking very gently at first, then with increasing intensity. A member of the crew politely informed her that it wouldn't be long till touch-down. Once the craft had landed they walked her to the airstair. She was met at the bottom by two Security guards, one of whom gestured that she should follow, and the other closed the line behind them. Speaking was unnecessary. In fact, since leaving home she felt she'd almost lost the capacity to even think. As they travelled to the airport the silence had been almost unbroken; she had slept through the flight and now, once again, silence prevailed – around and within her.

While the Security car cruised along the capital's wide avenues, her mind was gradually starting to function again. What could the time be? The sun was low: it could be early morning or late afternoon. So, she'd been arrested – um, 'invited to follow them' – around midnight; the drive to the airport must have taken less than an hour; a commercial flight to the capital took five or six hours: that special flight a little less, perhaps; plus two and a half hours for the different time zone: yes, it must be late afternoon.

"What time is it? Where are we going?" she asked at last.

"Seven eighty-one," replied one of the guards. "We're taking you to the accommodation prepared for you. We should be there before eight. You'll be accompanied to your room and will have time to freshen up. You have an interview at eight seventy-five with the president and a few officials. As from eight sixty, two guards will be waiting for you outside your rooms. It's less than five minutes' walk from there to the meeting room where the interview will be held."

The president? What of? she was about to enquire, but decided against it. She asked for no further information, and none was volunteered.

Her rooms were immaculate and, as anticipated, complete with everything she needed, including plenty of clothes. She had a shower, changed, and followed the two Security guards, who walked her to an anonymous-looking building surrounded by impeccably-groomed paths and gardens.

They went up to the first floor, and she was escorted to the waiting room. A few minutes later she was invited to follow them to the end of a corridor. Verbal exchanges were reduced to a minimum. They opened the door and showed her to a chair before a large oval table.

Five people were already seated. In the middle sat none other than the President of the Government; to her right was the Director of Security, Suwun-IV, who frequently featured in the news and in Government press releases; next to her, at the far left of the semicircle, was Ezrat, seemingly absorbed in the papers stacked in front of her. The President looked relaxed. She wore a dress in shades of yellow ochre, more brightly-coloured than those she normally sported, at least when seen in the news. Did she always dress like that, when not on camera? Or had she chosen such lively colours deliberately, to brighten up an otherwise gloomy atmosphere?

Director Suwun and Ezrat were in the usual grey-green Security uniforms; a fourth person was anonymously clad in unremarkable shades of grey and brown; and a fifth wore some sort of uniform, white, with pale-blue inserts. No-one was smiling. Hawiya kept wondering about the identity of the two unfamiliar women. They were bound to be VIPs, given the way the wind was blowing. Anyway, no point in racking her brain: she'd probably soon learn who they were, and what they wanted from her.

The President spoke first. "Thank you for coming, Citizen Hawiya-MT".

Thank you, my foot: as if I had any choice. Lying down on the lawn out there, sniffing daisies, for instance? She almost burst out laughing as she pictured herself deliberately whiling away the time, while a bunch of possibly the world's top bananas waited impatiently. For a moment she thought back, a tad nostalgically, to the times when she'd been able to indulge in a few hours' exquisite idleness, in the good old days before this stupid business started, and wondered whether... bother, here I was thinking this nonsense, while the President was talking! Brilliant, now I've missed the opening of her speech!"

"... of Medicine, Doctor Zoun-LH", the President was saying, indicating the person in the white uniform sitting on the right. Evidently she had just introduced the participants; just as evidently Hawiya, absorbed in her thoughts, had missed it all. Well, at least one of them had something to do with medicine: they didn't all belong to Security or Government. She must be the director of some important institution, or maybe a Government consultant for medical matters. She might even be the Director of the Department of Health in person.

"Director Suwun-IV, you may take the floor," concluded the President.

"Documents in our possession report the list of your logins to the Central History Library over the last one hundred and nineteen days," started the Director of Security, gesturing towards the pile of papers in front of Ezrat. "The list provides in detail the titles of documents consulted and downloaded, and feedback from your computer indicates repeated access to particular sections, and the notes you took. By examining these data with the help of our experts in the Department of Psychology, we can form a fairly accurate idea of your activities and retrace your mental processes in an extremely faithful manner."

"Excuse me, Director, but I can't see anything wrong in all this." The tone of Hawiya's opening words was perhaps harsher than it should have been. The idea that they could read her mind – merely by retracing every document she'd opened and every key she'd pressed on her home PC – was baffling. Yet, on second thought, nothing could be easier: everyone knew that private PCs send continuous feedback to the Government's data bank, and no-one seemed to mind particularly. After all, hardly anyone did anything criminal, or even particularly embarrassing. In a world that had no room for excessive extravagance, there was no such thing as real privacy. "Ancient history is, or rather, has recently become my hobby, and access to the Library is unrestricted, I did nothing..."

"True, there's nothing wrong with that," resumed Suwun, raising her voice slightly, yet perceptibly, to indicate that Hawiya's interruption hadn't gone down very well. "But nothing good, either. After all, the public opinion mostly considers history a load of meaningless fairy tales. For the average citizen, it isn't even clear where such hare-brained literature was dug up, or why we preserve it: presumably because it's more imaginative and gripping than what modern PC-writers come up with, and makes excellent material for third-rate science fiction and light-hearted flicks. Delve in it too deeply, though, and you may lose your ability to discriminate between the real and the ridiculous – and get funny ideas in your head."

Suwun paused for a moment, without taking her eyes off Hawiya. The others waited in silence, palpably relieved to defer to the Director: a sure sign that the matter was awkward.

"As I was saying, Citizen Hawiya-MT, we were able to retrace your mental processes, and reproduce the ideas you came up with fairly accurately. Truth be told, this backtracking was superfluous, in view of the bizarre theories you've carelessly paraded high and low, and which could be defined as..."

Hawiya couldn't refrain from shooting a glance at Ezrat, seemingly still engrossed in her papers. Again she felt betrayed, and her reply to Suwun, even more piqued, was dangerously bordering on the irreverent. "So what? Do you mean to say that I'm not free to have opinions of my own, and to express them as and when I like? It's one of the people's fundamental rights, isn't it? You tell me, as you're..."

"Please, Citizen Hawiya-MT," the President interjected at precisely the right moment, her voice exactly modulated to soothe Hawiya's growing irritation. Despite her outrage, Hawiya couldn't help admiring how that woman, the highest authority on Earth, was seemingly humble enough to use the word 'please' to calm her down, rather than impose silence, while still giving the impression that she was always on top of things. After all, there must be a reason if she was in that position: she gave the impression of being able to adopt the most suitable conduct and to use the most effective words and tone of voice in any situation.

"Forgive me, President, I didn't mean to be disrespectful to anyone," stammered Hawiya, struggling to look straight ahead. "It's just that I felt threatened in my..."

"I understand, but believe me, we're not accusing you of anything," resumed the President, with a brief pause that seemed to imply at least for the moment. "I assure you it's in your interest to let Director Suwun-IV proceed. You'll see that you'll agree with me eventually." This time Hawiya merely nodded, and kept her mouth shut.

"... outlandish, to say the least," continued Suwun, still staring at Hawiya fixedly, and resuming exactly where she'd left off. Where were we? Oh yes, she was talking about my ideas. "Normally, such tall stories would fall on stony ground and gradually die out, as they deserve to. But in this case they partially caught on, probably favoured by the general anxiety caused by recent events. In such a critical moment we can't afford such rumours to circulate, as they could potentially destabilise our social structure. It is our duty to safeguard the population against even the slightest threat of ideological infection."

"Excuse me, but if it's just nonsense – flick material, as you call it – what harm can it do?" blurted Hawiya again, unable, despite the President's foregoing entreaty, to restrain herself any longer. This time she wasn't even annoyed, but sincerely astonished that her theories could provoke such a reaction. She was just an ordinary middle-rank manager, like so many others, in an ordinary company, in an ordinary town: certainly not the kind of opinion maker who could stir up enraged masses. But Suwun's reaction left all of them petrified. Even Ezrat jerked her head up.

"Because it isn't nonsense, you idiot!" burst out Suwun, overturning her chair as she leapt to her feet and planted her hands on the table, almost snarling at Hawiya. She seemed on the verge of climbing onto the table and pouncing on her, and no-one there seemed capable of stopping her, or even inclined to. But it was over in a moment; Suwun took a few deep breaths, turned to pick up her chair off the floor, straightened it, and regained her composure. She resumed with her former precise enunciation, the walls still reverberating with her recent outburst.

"Weird as they might seem, your ideas have solid historic foundations. Professor Jofshae-ER, please," invited Suwun, gesturing towards the only unidentified participant, seated at the extreme right of the semicircle. The woman, evidently excited at the idea of speaking in the presence of such a prestigious audience, and to attentive ears, seized her opportunity. A history expert? wondered Hawiya.

"According to our reconstruction, we are indeed the hominids who managed to elude extinction, as you suspected," began Jofshae. "Extinction, or impermanence. Actually, they called it 'death'. Obviously we have a lot of supporting data. From our fossil finds we were able to establish that female hominids tried to make themselves permanent, or at least to lengthen their existence, by implanting artificial organs when their own biological originals ceased to function.

"Several remains have been found with artificial hearts or lungs, or other synthetic systems in less vital but more conspicuous parts of the body, presumably intended to arouse sexual interest in the male hominids by then absorbed in activities unrelated to females. We now know perfectly well that the implantation of artificial organs isn't satisfactory in the long term, and that the only viable approach is ours: to cultivate, fine-tune and personalise biological organs in laboratories, and to implant them during regular overhauls.

"Your assumption of geographical migrations was also correct, although these certainly weren't massive displacements. Instead, they were slow shifts taking place over entire generations, and hurriedly concluded when humanity was forced to move to underground cities, after rendering the air definitively unbreathable. The two sexes had less and less in common, starting from the length of their lives, which increased more and more for the females, while remaining unvaried (and extremely short) for the males.

"It isn't clear why the males showed such a lack of interest, if not in procreation, at least in prolonging their life; in any case, they became increasingly isolated. The few couples who still bred tended to gravitate spontaneously towards one or the other of the two groups, depending on the sex of their offspring, but procreations became progressively infrequent. Little by little they ceased altogether, the males inevitably became extinct, and the females, who had found a way of rendering themselves permanent, became... us.

"Over time we learned to convert our economy to entirely renewable and non-polluting energy resources; we continued to live underground, waiting patiently for the planet's self-repair mechanisms to complete their course, then we slowly re-surfaced. Once civilisation was restored, we chose to forget our past as hominids and to believe instead that we came from another planet: a conviction we have maintained to this very day.

"A questionable conduct, perhaps, from a historical point of view, but certainly understandable under the circumstances. All this information was deliberately set aside, then gradually cropped up again, though its diffusion was always... um... discouraged by official bodies. As for how long it is since the last male hominids became extinct, the most reliable estimates speak of tens..."

"As you'll have gathered," interjected Suwun, to prevent the speech from getting off track, "your shot in the dark struck full on a target that could easily blow up violently and overturn the balance of our civilisation. If it became public domain that we descend... that we are evolved hominids, quite a few would start wondering whether it wouldn't be preferable to go back to those days and share the planet with the other sex. The more imaginative might even go so far as to accuse the Government of having deliberately brought about the extinction of male hominids, or at least of having pushed them in that direction.

"I'm no expert in legal matters, but I believe it shouldn't be too difficult to incriminate you for subversive activity, at least at the culpable negligence level. If malicious intent could be proved, you might even be accused of high treason against humanity, which as a rule carries the maximum sentence."

A dead silence followed, the temperature seemingly dropping by various degrees. Hawiya felt her blood chill. Judging by their expression, the others were similarly appalled, despite almost certainly having known in advance what conclusion Suwun's speech would reach. Even the Director's voice had cracked slightly as she pronounced those final words.

The maximum punishment was absolute ostracism, though no-one called it that. The rare times the topic came up, it was always referred to with such euphemisms as "maximum punishment", "definitive sentence", and the like. The penalty boiled down to complete and permanent exclusion from society, from any public activity, communication or human interaction. The culprit continued to live in her own home and could move freely, but was monitored almost ceaselessly and was not allowed conversation or any other form of contact with other human beings. She was obliged at all times to wear two conspicuous orange bracelets that clearly indicated her status: no-one dreamed of exchanging a word with her, of glancing at her face, or giving any indication of having noticed her presence. Reserved for those who committed the worst crimes – sabotage, incitement to riots, high treason – this extremely rare form of punishment made life unbearable, and the very few thus condemned soon decided never to leave the house again. Within a short time they were forgotten, and ended up living in an endless, utter void. The only contacts they were allowed were those strictly related to health care, and periodic organ maintenance and replacement; and even those were carried out under strict supervision by someone from Security, to ensure that human interaction was restricted to the bare minimum. They became non-beings.

So her worse fears were well-founded. She'd really done it this time, and was about to be presented with the bill. But wait a moment: if they wanted to incriminate me, why didn't they do so? Why hold this farce of a meeting? Above all, why disturb so many bigwigs, and even the President?

The frosty silence that had descended after the dreadful threat was now broken by the President herself. "Citizen Hawiya-MT, I trust you're aware of the gravity of your situation. Director Suwun-IV was clear, and her words exactly reflect our point of view. The offence you committed and the information you carelessly divulged could have had catastrophic consequences on the mood of the people, already shaken by recent events. The only reasonable way for you to regain our benevolence would be to render humanity a service of such value as to compensate the potential damage caused."

Go on, out with it. You know perfectly well that I'll do anything, at this point, thought Hawiya. You could have told me upfront: it's obvious I can't refuse.

"Luckily for you, there is a way out," continued the President. "According to Doctor Zoun-LH, you can help us solve the critical problem that has afflicted the world's population for the last few hundred days. We may have found a possible solution: no-one knows exactly whether or how it will work, and what the potential consequences may be, but in the absence of valid alternatives it's the route we must follow. If it leads us nowhere, well, we won't be any worse off than we are now. The floor is yours, Doctor Zoun-LH."

The President turned towards the Medicine expert, or whatever she was: the only person who hadn't spoken yet. And when she did speak, she didn't beat around the bush. "All you have to do is volunteer for a certain project, Citizen Hawiya-MT."

On hearing those words, Hawiya's first thought was that they wanted to use her as a lab rat, to drag her around all the places where cases of impermanence manifested themselves; or even that they'd isolated the virus and wanted to inoculate her directly, and then observe how the illness progressed. She wondered what would be worse: that, or absolute ostracism. The latter was an endless nightmare, but no-one really knew what impermanence was. How on Earth can I choose? In a panic, she blurted, "I don't know, I'm not sure I want to do it: no-one knows how the virus hits you, or rather, whether a virus actually exists. I'm scared: what will happen to my body? And if I do become impermanent, what will I feel, what will happen afterwards? How will I be restored to permanence? Perhaps we should first..."

"Stop, stop, wait, Citizen Hawiya-MT," broke in Zoun with a flicker of a smile at the candour of that outburst. "No-one mentioned any virus: we're not even sure that a virus is actually involved. The causes of this impermanence are still unknown: all we have is conjectures."

"But then, I'd be volunteering for..." Hawiya started, then stopped abruptly: recent events could lead to a sole logical conclusion. She wondered why this hadn't occurred to her earlier, and a warm sensation – deep and intense – welled up inside her: a wave of fear, hope, astonishment, wonder – and ancient wisdom.

"You know exactly what for," broke in Ezrat drily, having set aside her fake papers. "We need someone, and you're suitable."

Yes, she's right, I know exactly what for, thought Hawiya.

8.

"Do sit down, Citizen Hawiya-MT," said Zoun-LH indicating the chair across her desk in her surgery. "In fact, I'd cut the formalities, if you don't mind, seeing as we'll be in close contact for several hundred days."

"Thanks. I've been assigned to this... experiment, if we can call it that, and now we have to discuss the details, right?" asked Hawiya with a sigh.

"Let's call it a 'project'," replied Zoun, smiling. "I don't really like to consider it an 'experiment'. Understandably, you were rather alarmed the other day at the meeting with all those big fish, but I'm optimistic. Although it's a completely new procedure, at least in recent history, we have all the necessary means to conclude this 'project' successfully. We will replace your uterus, which is atrophied as is everyone else's, and implant a semi-artificial one – modelled on a reconstruction of what the original organ of hominid females must have been, or rather, what our original uterus must have been, when we were still hominids – along with every other accessory apparatus enabling your body to nourish the infant you will bear. Then we will proceed with your insemination.

"Towards the end of their existence, male hominids showed a belated glimmer of will to prevent their species from being wiped out completely: having at least succeeded in constructing some equipment to preserve their semen and keep it alive indefinitely, they deposited a few samples in the Global Vault of Living Species."

"But will I be able to... I mean, can I be..." stammered Hawiya, groping for words.

"... inseminated?" suggested Zoun.

"Yes, inseminated. Our body is no longer equipped for reproduction, is it?" asked Hawiya dubiously.

"Hawiya, do you know what menstruation is for?" asked Zoun.

"Nothing... it's body waste, like urine and stools, but excreted with a different frequency," replied Hawiya.

"Not quite," explained Zoun. "In a sense, you could call it body waste, but it's linked with our fertility. You and I, and all the others, still have perfectly-functioning ovaries, which regularly produce ova: these are ready to be inseminated and to give life to an embryo, which then develops into a human being – at least, we assume that's still the case, though it hasn't happened since time immemorial. Menstruation is not a by-product of our digestive system, but of our fertility cycle."

"Even so, how do we know that we're still fertile after so many solar cycles?" enquired Hawiya.

"We don't, in fact," admitted Zoun. "We can only find out by trying. But just think: though generally considered a colossal drag, this capacity has remained intact all this time. For who knows how many thousands and thousands of solar cycles, we have patiently and punctually continued to produce, every twenty-eight days, ova that never got fertilised. If that never ceased..."

"... it's because, deep down, we knew that sooner or later there would be a need for them!" concluded Hawiya, her voice full of hope. "And now the time has come."

"That's the way it seems," confirmed Zoun. "At least, that's what we hope."

"And how long will it take to see if it works?" asked Hawiya, newly gripped by doubts.

"That's not easy to say," responded Zoun. "Tomorrow morning you'll enter the clinic, they'll keep you on a controlled diet for a couple of days, then proceed with implanting the necessary organs. At that point we'll have to wait a few days for your body to adjust, and monitor the way it reacts. I don't foresee great difficulties – after all, we carry out far more complex operations – but seeing as this is such a sensitive project, we'll need to make sure that your parameters are perfectly in line with the levels required.

"In any case, from your tests and from the questionnaires you filled in this morning, we've worked out that your next fertility period is still seventeen-eighteen days away; if everything goes as planned, that will be the moment to proceed with the insemination. And if that isn't successful, we'll try again twenty-eight days later..."

"And if it still doesn't work in the following cycle?" asked Hawiya, alarmed.

"For the time being, I suggest we try not to think of this eventuality. At the moment we don't have many alternatives," replied Zoun. Then, sighing, she added, "Listen, Hawiya... if you don't feel like doing this, you don't have to. It's an enormous responsibility, and you might..."

"But I have to. You were at the meeting too: if I refuse, the alternative will be..." She stopped, afraid to even mention the alternative.

"Hawiya, listen," resumed Zoun, lowering her voice a fraction, "strictly between you and me, they don't have enough evidence to impose the maximum penalty. They caught you off guard and dragged you before the President deliberately, to make you feel small, alone and desperate. They knew perfectly well that they had you in a stranglehold: that you'd agree to anything, in order to save yourself.

"But when you think about it, your 'crime' – if we can call it that – can be classified at worst as diffusion of false or distorted news, and to very few people: hardly enough to pose a threat to the public order. Crime against humanity, my foot! At the most you could be sentenced to a very slight restriction of your activities. It suits them to reduce you to despair, but they are far more desperate than you. They find themselves faced with a crisis that could threaten the very existence of humanity, and every other solution they've tried has failed."

"Are you saying that... I'm their last hope to save humanity?" asked Hawiya, her eyes closed.

"Not only you, maybe," replied Zoun, "but this seems to be the only solution we have left, at least until we can figure out the causes of impermanence – assuming that we manage to. If it doesn't work with you, new 'volunteers' – genuine or forced – will have to be found. In any case, this is the only course we can follow. And rest assured that they've tried others. This crisis has been going on for several hundred days."

"Really?" asked Hawiya, surprised. "So why didn't we hear about it until about twenty days ago?"

"It didn't happen until recently, in your area," explained Zoun. "But in other parts of the world it's been going on for a while, with no precise pattern in either space or time; broadcasters have kept quiet about it, understandably, lest they spread panic among the population. Also, generally speaking, those who are witness to or come to know about a case of impermanence, tend to speak very little of it, which is why the news doesn't spread. Five or six people might stop functioning over twenty days within a one-hundred-kilometre radius, then nothing happens for a while; then the same thing occurs somewhere else, and so on. It's always the same: all brain data disappears from the home backup, and from the provincial and world copies. The data cannot be restored. We don't know what causes this: whether or how it spreads or is contracted; whether it's a virus, or bacterium or other micro-organism. It leaves no trace, and we haven't found a 'cure', if we can use such a term."

"What about those other solutions you mentioned: didn't they work?" asked Hawiya.

"There were other proposals, it's true," confirmed Zoun after a moment's hesitation. "The first was cloning. This option simply boils down to creating a copy of an existing person – selection criteria are yet to be determined – to replace the person who has ceased to live. But this implies a series of sensitive issues of a practical and even ethical nature: for example, are we sure that the clone would be completely dissociated from the original? Anyway, could anyone accept the knowledge that a copy of herself lives on the opposite side of the world? And how do we choose who to clone? Too many issues: the proposal has always been turned down by the large majority of the World Council."

"Maybe this could be reserved as a last resort, if all else fails," said Hawiya pensively.

"Yes, maybe", replied Zoun, "but, when you think about it, it would be even worse as an emergency solution. It would mean resorting to clones when the population is even further reduced: the number of clones required would be considerable, and the probability of bumping into one's other self, or of finding her intentionally if one sets one's heart on it, would be proportionally higher."

"Right, and knowing that there's a copy of you, or even several, it would be unlikely that you wouldn't wish to meet them," added Hawiya.

"In other words, this option is out of the question," continued Zoun. "A more acceptable solution, and one that has actually been the subject of experiments, would be to create a new person from scratch. There's no need to create copies: we merely have to devise a brain pattern that isn't too different from the population's average, and add suitable competencies and characteristics to enable the new person to adapt to society; if necessary, random factors could be added to simulate that person's individuality.

"As for creating a new mind, it isn't at all difficult, in theory: it's been done, in fact. And it's even easier for the body: we just have to assemble the pieces. Actually, we could have used the bodies of persons found lifeless, but we decided to use new ones to avoid other ethical issues, and not upset acquaintances once the person was reinstated with a new mind created from scratch."

"But it didn't work. Or I wouldn't be here," concluded Hawiya with a sigh.

"Precisely," confirmed Zoun, "the new persons were perfect, their vital signs were in order, but their minds functioned passively and failed to take any initiative. They remained immobile, doing nothing other than receive external stimuli and formulate such thoughts as 'I've been ordered to stand up,' 'they have applied an electrode to my finger,' that sort of thing. But they didn't move, or show any desire to interact or communicate. It was exasperating! Eventually the experiment was scrapped."

"And what happened to those... people?" asked Hawiya horrified, imagining the worst.

"They weren't terminated, if that's what you're thinking," Zoun reassured her. "But it might have been better if they had. Leaving them to that lifeless existence doesn't make much sense. What's more, the failure of this experiment has prompted some re-thinking of the cloning option. If that's the way new persons turn out, how can we be sure that clones won't suffer the same fate? Imagine another you in a room somewhere, eternally immobile..."

"Stop, stop!" Hawiya cut in brusquely, then realised that her tone had been rude. "Sorry, Zoun, it's just that..."

"Yes, I know, Hawiya, there's no need to apologise," said Zoun soothingly. "So much pressure and so many novelties in such a short time: who wouldn't be tense, in your shoes? Anyway, going back to the matter of the various experiments, the point is that they all failed. In conclusion, we can only go down this road, which means that for the Government it's really the last chance saloon, and they only blackmailed you because they feared you might call their bluff. They need you far more than they're prepared to admit."

"But why me, of all people?" was Hawiya's obvious question.

"Firstly because, for their purposes, you are in fact exposed to blackmail," replied Zoun. "And secondly because of what they gathered from your conversations, particularly with Ezrat: for this project, they would prefer someone who will identify to some extent with a hominid, as she'll have to carry one in her womb. But, as I was saying, they can't force you to do it, and their threats are blatantly unfounded. You can simply refuse and get off with a light sentence."

"I admit I'm rather frightened but... I don't know, I feel I really should do it," answered Hawiya hesitantly.

"You know," said Zoun with a smile. "I'm a little envious. I even considered volunteering in your place, but they certainly wouldn't accept. I've been asked to manage the project, and that kind of order is not open to discussion. I might put my name on the waiting list for the next time."

"Listen to that!" joked Hawiya. "Meanwhile, I'm the one who's playing guinea pig!"

"Consider yourself a pioneer," countered Zoun, laughing. "This could be your passport to fame!"

"Sure, renowned as the one who brought hominids back to life: some service to humanity," continued Hawiya blithely; then, more seriously, she added "but if the insemination is successful, what do we do then?"

"From records left by the hominids," explained Zoun, "we gather that gestation lasted roughly between two hundred and fifty and three hundred days. If your case doesn't depart too much from this average, once this period is over the infant will be born as are all mammal offspring. Alternatively we can consider a small operation to extract the infant from your body. Nothing more than a simple incision: routine procedure, such as when they change your liver.

"And all that time..." started Hawiya dubiously.

"... you'll remain at the medical centre, in a special ward entirely dedicated to the project," continued Zoun. "You'll only be able to leave the ward in the company of a qualified nurse, and with my permission as the project director. As for us, we will do all we can to render your stay as pleasant as possible, or at least not too boring."

"Will I be allowed to have visitors?" asked Hawiya after a moment's thought.

"Maybe, but don't set your heart on it," replied Zoun. "You can be sure that any visit will have to be approved by Security, who will not be keen on authorising external contacts. It's more likely that your only company will be the medical staff, the nurses and myself."

"I see. I hope I won't become a bother for you all!" replied Hawiya with a sigh.

"Don't be silly, we'll get on fine!" exclaimed Zoun. "But you don't have to accept immediately. Why don't you take two or three days to think it over? As far as the project's organisation is concerned, it won't make any difference whether we start the day after tomorrow, or the following day."

"I don't need to think it over," said Hawiya. "Let's go ahead."

9.

It was pouring outside. The few enclosed vehicles moved cautiously along the lanes of the hospital centre, and the gardens were scattered with fallen leaves of yellow. The world capital was in the cool-temperate northern hemisphere, where autumn arrived early and was long-lasting.

Hawiya sat in her favourite chair next to the French window that opened onto the small terrace of the bedroom accessible to the nurses. Her growing stomach hampered her movements considerably, and she had taken to spending her days reading, or simply resting. She had been given a flat with every convenience, and all the books she wanted. She even had a small gym to keep fit, and a swimming pool all to herself. She also had her own completely secluded area, with a second bedroom for when she wished to be alone. But she no longer used this: for her own peace of mind she preferred to stay where she was, with nurses dropping in every so often to check that everything was alright, and sometimes stopping for a chat.

She thought back to the long days spent there: this place had become her whole world. The insemination had been successful the second time round, and the infant had grown inside her as was hoped and expected. She recalled the spring, complicated by a recurring sense of malaise and nausea; the glorious summer when, with the growing infant, she had indulged in long walks along the paths of the hospital centre. Her time had assumed an entirely different dimension, a flow of pleasant tranquillity tuned to the rhythm of the new life that moved within her.

The two hundred and fifty days had only just passed, and the presumed due date was approaching. Above all, she sensed that the time was near. How would it go? Everything was proceeding beautifully, according to Zoun, and the rest of the medical staff was also optimistic, but until the...

"Hawiya? How are you? Lieutenant Ezrat-KQ is here," announced a nurse, poking her head through the door.

"Thanks, Ishearr, let her in," replied Hawiya, shifting her gaze from the window.

"Hello Hawiya, did you wish to see me? And how are you doing?" asked Ezrat as soon as she arrived.

��Spare me the pleasantries, Ezrat. Sit down," replied Hawiya. "If you wished to know how I was, why didn't you come and see me? You're my official contact person, after all".

"You know perfectly well that you could have called me any moment," said Ezrat, sitting down. "It was your choice not to. I was ordered not to interfere or take any initiatives in your respect, including spontaneous visits."

"How are things, out there?" asked Hawiya, changing the subject. "Have you found the impermanence virus, if it is a virus?"

"Haven't you heard?" asked Ezrat.

"No, I haven't: so far I've preferred to remain totally isolated. I don't even watch the news," replied Hawiya. "I decided to follow Zoun's advice. I never even ask for news from the medical staff. I prefer to keep my peace of mind: that's been the best choice for my stay here. They're all very kind and I don't have to worry about anything. It's my micro-world".

"Well, to answer your question about the macro-world out there: no, we haven't discovered the cause of impermanence, nor any effective remedy. Cases continue to manifest themselves in a patchy, random manner, neither increasing nor decreasing in frequency. This is what exasperates our researchers. If it were infectious in origin, cases should multiply, or at least spread according to a territorial logic. But that isn't so."

"Speaking of possible remedies, are you acting as contact person only for me?" asked Hawiya. "Or are there other 'volunteers' like me destined to save humanity?"

"I'm not authorised to respond to this type of question," replied Ezrat unperturbed. "I will only pass on information in the public domain."

"The fact is, I can't believe I'm the only one," continued Hawiya. "Of course, among my acquaintances I'm the only one who's always been interested in ancient history, as far as I know. But with all the people living in the world, how can this topic not interest anyone else?"

"You know very well that it's not a very popular subject," added Ezrat after a brief pause.

"Maybe because you've always censored it?" asked Hawiya, gazing at her steadily.

"It certainly isn't a Government secret, Hawiya," retorted Ezrat. "Very few people are interested, and the Government prefers to keep it that way – or did, until these recent events. All it did was go along with the population's tendency not to follow the topic. If people are into films, topical matters, fashion and so on, that's fine by the Government. If on your home PC you regularly open pages about, say, music or art, you'll continue to receive links and advertisements for music and art. It's always been that way."

"And if you often open pages on ancient history?" asked Hawiya with a hint of sarcasm.

"You'll get links and advertisements for films, topical matters and fashion," replied Ezrat, "to discourage access to unreliable data and documents that could suggest preposterous notions. That's why our society works so perfectly. And if you're thinking 'manipulation', you're off the road: the Government neither imposes nor forbids access to any data, and libraries and data banks are open to everyone. Let's call it 'education', in the sense of encouraging people to be interested in harmless and possibly constructive matters. That's always been the aim of the media, hasn't it? So everyone lives happily. You can't deny that it works."

"I wasn't discouraged from accessing information that doesn't fully qualify as 'harmless', as you call it," continued Hawiya. "On the contrary, you may even have pushed me in that direction, right? Impermanence had already manifested itself several hundred days before you brought me here. The bases of this project must have been defined in advance, so all you had to do was gather information on those interested in hominid history, exploit their presumed eligibility for the project, arrest them over ungrounded allegations of treason, and blackmail them into 'volunteering'. Who would have accepted, otherwise?"

"Aren't you thinking too highly of yourself?" asked Ezrat. "You don't really believe you merited such constant attention, do you? The Government has neither the need nor the resources for the type of surveillance you describe. Common automated analyses, regularly conducted on individual profiles for demographic and economic reasons, suffice for the purpose."

"And in the case in point, my profile proved suitable for your project," added Hawiya. "Believe me, I'm well aware that I could have refused and got off lightly. But actually I'm glad I accepted. I guess I should be grateful to you."

"Well then," said Ezrat. "I'm glad you're not holding grudges. Is this what you wanted to talk about? Or is there anything else?"

"No, I didn't ask to summon you for this reason: there is something else, in fact," said Hawiya, then hesitated. "I'd like to receive a visitor. Is that possible?"

"It is, under somewhat stringent conditions. We had expected this request. To be honest, I'm surprised you've waited so long."

"What are the conditions?" enquired Hawiya.

"In principle, in view of the confidential nature of the project, whoever accepts to visit you will have to share your fate," explained Ezrat. "Should the project fail, your willingness to render such an important service to the Government will still be acknowledged, and you'll only be condemned to a light sentence."

"Rubbish," cut in Hawiya. "The sentence will be light because there are no grounds to inflict a heavier punishment."

"You're free to think that, if you like, though I assure you that the Government knows how to show appreciation," proceeded Ezrat. "In any case, your punishment will be light, most probably a restriction of your activities such as is applicable to offences of low-to-medium severity. So, if the project isn't successful, whoever decides to enter this centre and visit you will automatically be liable to a punishment similar to yours. We will relay your request and inform her of these conditions. It will be up to her to accept or refuse. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely," replied Hawiya. "And what if the project is successful?"

"If it is, the Government will probably decide to divulge the good news, with due caution, at the right time and in the appropriate manner," informed Ezrat. "In that case it might not be expedient to condemn you. You could even be absolved of all charges, though I can't assure you of this. They'll decide when it's all finished. Baxti, isn't it?"

"S... sorry?" asked Hawiya, startled.

"The person you want to see," proceeded Ezrat. "It's Baxti-LY, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," said Hawiya, lowering her eyes.

"Good," commented Ezrat. "Now you know the conditions. You can let me have your decision when you think fit."

"I've decided," said Hawiya. "Tell her I want to see her."

10.

A few days later, Hawiya was sitting in bed watching Baxti, who stood in front of the veranda. The crazy girl had dropped everything and hopped onto the first flight. Not even a day had passed between her request to Ezrat and Baxti's arrival.

"I still can't believe that you decided to come," she said to her friend.

"And I can't believe that you can't believe it, you blockhead," replied her friend, with mock-annoyance. "I still remember the day after the concert. I called at your place: you weren't there and weren't answering my phone calls. After what had happened to Akshoyya, I was worried sick! And then hundreds of days went by without knowing what had happened to you..."

"Yesterday Zoun mentioned your conversations," resumed Hawiya. "She even said something about a possible collaboration."

"Yes, we touched on the topic almost by chance," explained Baxti. "Apparently, my expertise in the quantification of micro-deviations in the Earth's gravitational field could be useful to fine-tune some electronic instruments used in medicine. A couple of days ago she introduced me to one of the managers of the division that handles these matters, someone called... I can't remember, but I've made a note of it. We talked all afternoon, then she left me some literature: manuals, specifications, inspection reports, and other stuff that I studied all morning yesterday. I'm convinced that some of the technology we use in industry could be applied to improve the precision of certain medical devices. Their equipment is incredibly advanced, but there's still a little room for improvement."

"You might end up living here!" said Hawiya, delighted.

"We've certainly discussed some fascinating projects, but how can one live in this awful place? It's fine for you: you've always stayed in here. But out there, everything is so perfect it's almost surreal; and the people are just the same – not too courteous, nor too cold – but I still can't see how one can have any fun. There are hardly any places to socialise. And don't get me started on the shops: so few of them, and all selling the same stuff. It seems to me that the only things people wear on their feet around here are those dreadful fur-lined ankle boots. I wanted to do some shopping yesterday afternoon but, no way! Imagine roaming a city of this size without finding one decent pair of... Hawiya!!!! What's the matter?!?"

Baxti jerked around on hearing a moan: her friend had suddenly closed her eyes and was clinging to the sides of her mattress with both hands.

"I think..." she started, then contracted again, while Baxti looked on, petrified. Eventually Hawiya detached one hand from the mattress and reached for her bedside push-button, but the nurses were already there, alerted by Baxti's cry.

"Don't worry, Hawiya, everything is ready, we've been waiting for this moment for days," said one of the nurses. "Zoun is on duty and will be with you in two minutes: you're in the best hands."

Through closed eyelids, she perceived the lights of the corridor flashing by, then nothing beyond the intense whiteness of the operating room.

* * *

A shrill, penetrating sound suddenly restored her lucidity. What... where... was it all finished? She no longer felt the infant inside her... it must all be over then. She lay in a daze, head leaning sideways on her sweat-soaked pillow. A nurse was fiddling with something attached to her arm, while Baxti sat in a corner, in floods of tears. But why...

That sound again! An incredibly high-pitched cry came from somewhere in front of her, out of sight, beyond the curtain that concealed the lower part of her body and the staff operating there. Another cry resounded from that side. But all she could see was Zoun observing something and... smiling behind her mask?

"W... what..." she tried to ask.

"Hawiya!" said Zoun, turning towards her. Yes, she really was smiling! "Everything went perfectly. The infant is alive and wonderful! You've become..."

"Show her to me..." she said weakly.

Meanwhile the nurses had finished washing the minute creature and had placed it on a sort of cushion, enveloped in a tiny blanket. The infant, who had calmed down a little and had stopped crying so loudly, continued to emit strange sounds and to move slowly. The nurse approached, carefully straightened her backrest and laid the small bundle in her lap.

Hawiya observed it carefully. How funny, it really did look like a miniature human being, with those sparse locks of hair on its head, and that toothless mouth moving and twisting into hilarious expressions. Hawiya started to lift the blanket and studied its arms, torso...

"She really is wonderful... a new human being... we should give her a name... what shall we call her?" Hawiya managed.

"What shall we call him, you mean," replied Zoun, her radiant smile broadening.

Yes, there was no doubt: it was a lovely little boy.

THE END

(or a new beginning?)