“It’s my moral responsibility,” Brainard said as he slipped a new tape into the recorder.
* * *
Copper responded quickly to rest and therapy. The space shock cleared up quickly. The gerontological treatments put her to bed again, but within a month she was completely normal, and her lifespan was now that of a normal human. She could look forward to some four hundred years with Kennon—and the prospect was not unpleasant. The Center fascinated her. Never before had she seen a hospital devoted to the care and treatment of humans. It was a far cry, in its polished steel and stone magnificence, from the tiny primitive structure over which Kennon had presided. Yet both places served the same purpose. Perhaps Kennon was right—that there was no difference between man and Lani. The idea was not nearly as unbelievable as it was at first.
“I never realized what it meant to be human,” Copper said as she held Kennon’s hand. “It is nice to feel important and to know that our child is a member of the race that rules the galaxy.”
“So you’re convinced?” Kennon chuckled.
“The serological identity—” she began.
“Hmm. You’ve been getting some education, I see.”
“Well,” Copper smiled, “I didn’t think you wanted a stupid woman. I can read—and since you are around so seldom nowadays, there is little else to do. I’ve been reading history, medicine, and novels,” she finished proudly.
“A fine catholic selection,” Kennon said, “Now if you add mathematics, sociology, and philosophy you’ll have a well-rounded basic education.”
“Dr. Brainard has been trying something he calls ‘hypno.’ He says it will help me learn faster. But I can’t see that it’s done much good.”