Melia was a She, with the swelling breasts that were, so tradition states, quite prevalent among members of the race long ago, and are seldom seen today. Indeed, Melia was on this account made the butt of many jokes and, I fear, would have had a lonely life of it had it not been for the friendship of Xeon.
"Sias," they were saying, "the Maternite's gone."
I stared in amazement.
"Gone? It cannot be gone. It has always been—"
"Oh my gods!" Xeon shouted. "I tell you it's gone! Will you—"
Melia interrupted him quietly. "Xeon, will you lose all respect for the Elder?" Then turned to me, and said calmly, "The watcher at the Maternite Machine, it appears, has been drunk. The heat rose above the warning, continued to rise, and then—poof. Everything has evaporated in Maternite. All the Prelife is gone."
"All of it?" I asked.
"There is nothing left," Melia insisted. "Can more be made? And if not, what will happen with no more children?"
"That is for the priests to say, not I," I replied. In moments of emergency, it is wise to speak with caution. That is, I suppose so. I have never before been in a real emergency.