Analog Science Fiction and Fact - June 2013

Children fell silent, some staring, others
sidling away. A few of the littlest took shelter
behind Eve and the twins. Despite assurances
that she wasn’t contagious, Rikki was just as
happy this one time that the kids were shy
around her.
“Hi!” she called. “Who can tell me where I
can find Ms. Li?”
It fell to Marvin to answer. “At her office in
the childcare center.”
Inside the center, Rikki paused at the glass
wall that opened into the toddlers’ room. All
those little ones, unhugged. Untouched.
Alone for most of the day, every day, apart
from the insubstantial company of an AI. It
broke her heart. She reached for the door, and
hesitated.
“You’re not contagious,” Li said. “Go
ahead.”
Rikki jumped. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
“I heard you. I’m glad you’re up and strong
enough for an outing. As it happens, there
was something I wanted to talk about with
you. We can talk inside.”
“Is it Endeavour?”
“Nothing like that.” Li gestured at the door.
“Inside.”
At Rikki’s entrance, several of the children
froze. More shied away. Chubby-cheeked Carla
(with the mass of black curls that so reminded
Rikki of her sister Janna at that age)
began to whimper.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Rikki said, reaching to
brush a tear from Carla’s cheek.
Carla lurched, screaming, to cower behind
a crib.
“Why do they hate me?” Rikki whispered.
And why do they adore you?
“Let’s go next door,” Li said.
Next door meant the newborn unit. Li gestured
Rikki ahead through this door, too. Empty
cribs waited, row upon row, facing the
one-way glass wall. In a few weeks, all the
cribs would be occupied.
Li said, “You’re a beautiful woman.”
Well, I did wash my face and change into
clothes without puke spatters. “Is that your
big problem with me? That Blake finds me attractive?”
“Just an observation. You are more than
welcome to Blake.” Li changed tone. “Marvin,
play kid-vid zero.”
On the display integral with the low-end
DARK SECRET
JUNE 2013
panel of every crib, pastels morphed into the
image of an old oak tree. From crib speakers
came a soothing rustle of leaves. Let the vid
play long enough, and it would cycle through
clear skies, both sunny and starry, toddlers
gleefully splashing in a wading pool, a timelapse
view of roses flowering, and other delights.
“I hadn’t realized the vid had a name,” Rikki
said. “It’s just what we play.”
“It’s what you and your friends play. There
are others, vids that Marvin hasn’t been at liberty
to divulge.”
“I don’t understand,” Rikki said.
“Perhaps a demonstration. Marvin, kid-vid
one, please.” The oak tree vanished, replaced
by a close-up of Li’s smiling face. The aural accompaniment
was a deep rhythmic throb: the
same heartbeat recording that pulsed in the artificial
wombs. “Marvin is only permitted to
play that at my direction, or when no adult is
present.”
Unctuous, smiling Li faces everywhere, and
Rikki wanted to smash them—the flesh-andblood
face most of all. “You programmed the
children to love you?”
Li smirked. “The proper term is imprinting.
And yes, I did.”
“No, the proper term is child abuse.”
“You’re such a drama queen. Marvin, show
our guest kid-vid-two.”
The crib-panel displays went dark. The low,
steady heartbeat became . . . something else.
Primitive. Dissonant. On the crib-panel displays,
lightning flashed. Beneath the music,
thunder rumbled.
Rikki shivered. “What the hell is—”
“Watch,” Li commanded. “Listen. Learn.”
From the lightning-torn night sky slowly
emerged . . . a face. Rikki’s face. The music
swelled, grew more urgent and . . . scarier.
“The Rite of Spring,” Li said. “The children
will never appreciate Stravinsky, I’m sad to
say, but that’s a sacrifice worth making.”
And Rikki’s face morphed into—
A hooded . . . thing. Coiled. Scaly. Black
with, as it reared its head, a fish-white underbelly.
Hissing, swaying. It studied her dispassionately
through little beady eyes. A forked
tongue flickered in and out, in and out between
its jaws.
Rikki’s skin crawled. She felt her eyes go
round. On the back of her neck, hairs prick-
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