Dark Benediction

“Look, O’Reilley, the newt is what I’m after. So I found it. I don’t know what else I’ve found, but juggling serial numbers is a serious offense. If you’ve got a story, you better tell it. Otherwise, you’ll be telling it behind bars. I’m willing to listen here and now. You’d better grab the chance.”

O’Reilley sighed, looked at the sleeping newt in the corner. “What’ll ye do with her?”

“The newt? Take her in.”

O’Reilley sat in gloomy silence while he thought things over. “We were class-B, me and the missus,” he mumbled suddenly, “allowed a child of our own if we could have ‘un. Fancy that, eh? Ugly old coot like me—class-B.”

“So?”

“The government said we could have a child, but Nature said we couldn’t.”

“Tough.”

“But since we were class B, we weren’t entitled to own a newt. See?”

“Yeah. Where’s your wife?”

“With the saints, let’s hope.”

Norris wondered what sort of sob-story this was getting to be. The oldster went on quietly, all the while staring at the sleeping figure in the corner.

“Couldn’t have a kid, couldn’t own a newt either—so we opened the pet shop. It wasn’t like havin’ yer own, though. Missus always blubbered when I sold a newt she’d got to feeling like a mother to. Never swiped one, though—not till Peony came along. Last year this Bermuda shipment come in, and I sold most of ‘em pretty quick, but Peony here was puny. People ‘fraid she’d not last long. Couldn’t sell her. Kept her around so long that we both loved her. Missus died last year. ‘Don’t let anybody take Peony,’ she kept saying afore she passed on. I promised I wouldn’t. So I switched ‘em around and moved her up here.”

“That all?”

O’Reilley hesitated, then nodded.

“Ever done this before?”

O’Reilley shook his head.

There was a long silence while Norris stared at the child-thing. “Your license could be revoked,” he said absently.

“I know.”

He ground his fist thoughtfully in his palm, thought it over some more. If O’Reilley told the truth, he couldn’t live with himself if he reported the old man… unless it wasn’t the whole truth.

“I want to take your books home with me tonight.”

“Help yourself.”

“I’m going to make a complete check, investigate you from stem to stern.”

He watched O’Reilley closely. The oldster was unaffected. He seemed concerned—grief-stricken—only by the thought of losing the neutroid.

“If plucking a newt out of stock to keep you company was the only thing you did, O’Reilley, I won’t report you.”

O’Reilley was not consoled. He continued to gaze hungrily at the little being on the rug.

“And if the newt turns out not to be a deviant,” he added gently, “I’ll send it back. We’ll have to attach a correction to that invoice, of course, and you’ll just have to take your chances about somebody wanting to buy it, but… “ He paused. O’Reilley was staring at him strangely.

“And if she is a deviant, Mr. Norris?”

He started to reply, hesitated.

“Is she, O’Reilley?”

The oldster said nothing. His face tightened slowly. His shoulders shook slightly, and his squinted eyes were brimming. He choked.

“I see.”

O’Reilley shook himself, produced a red bandana, dabbed at his eyes, blew his nose loudly, regathered his composure. “How do you know she’s deviant?”

O’Reilley gave him a bitter glance, chuckled hoarsely, shuffled across the room and sat on the floor beside the sleeping newt. He patted a small bare shoulder.

“Peony?… Peony-girl… Wake up, me child, wake up.”

Its fluffy tail twitched for a moment. It sat up, rubbed its eyes, and yawned. There was a lazy casualness about its movements that caused Norris to lean closer to stare. Neutroids usually moved in bounces and jerks and scrambles. This one stretched, arched its back, and smiled—like a two year old with soft brown eyes. It glanced at Norris. The eyes went wider for a moment, then it studiously ignored him.

“Shall I play bouncey, Daddy?” it piped.

Norris sucked in a long slow breath and sat frozen.

“No need to, Peony.” O’Reilley glanced at the inspector. “Bouncey’s a game we play for visitors,” he explained. “Making believe we’re a neutroid.”

The inspector could find nothing to say.

Peony licked her lips. “Wanna glass of water, Daddy.”

O’Reilley nodded and hobbled away to the kitchen, leaving the man and the neutroid to stare at each other in silence. She was quite a deviant. Even a fully age-set K-108 could not have spoken the two sentences that he had heard, and Peony was still a long way from age-set, and a K-99 at that.

O’Reilley came back with the water. She drank it greedily, holding the glass herself while she peered up at the old man. “Daddy’s eyes all wet,” she observed.

O’Reilley began trembling again. “Never mind, child. You go get your coat.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You’re going for a ride with Mr. Norris.”

She whirled to stare hostilely at the stunned visitor. “I don’t want to!”

The old man choked out a sob and flung himself down to seize her in his arms and hug her against his chest. He tearfully uttered a spasmodic babble of reassurances that would have frightened even a human child.