banished."
"No!"
"My duty —"
"Your duty is to yourself, not to me. Let me go free!"
"You are myself. The only way in which I could give you freedom is to let you come to adult status…"
"Then do so. Give me my life-right."
"I cannot. It serves the Armatuce. The race. We have to go back. At least we must try."
"You go. Leave me."
"That is impossible. If I were to perish, you would have no means of sustenance. Without me, you would die!"
"You are selfish, mama! We can never go back to Armatuce."
"Oh, Snuffles! Do you feel nothing for that part of you which is your mother?"
He shrugged. "Why don't you let me play with Miss Ming?"
"Because she will turn you into a copy of her fatuous, silly self."
"And you would rather I was a copy of a prude like you. Miss Ming is right. You should find yourself a friend and forget me. If I am doomed to remain a child, then at least let me spend my days with whom I choose!"
"You will sleep now, Snuffles. If you wish to continue this debate, we shall do so in the morning."
He sulked, but the argument, the effort of thinking in this way, had tired him. He allowed the robots to lead him off.
Dafnish Armatuce also was tired. Already she was debating the wisdom of allowing herself to react as she had done. No good was served by insulting the self-justifying Miss Ming; the boy lacked real understanding of the principles involved. She had been guilty of uncontrolled behaviour. She had failed, after all, to maintain her determination, her ideals. In Armatuce there would be no question of her next decision, she would have applied for adult status for her son and, if it had been granted, so settled the matter. But here…"
And was she justified in judging Miss Ming a worse influence than herself? Perhaps Miss Ming, in this world, prepared Snuffles for survival? But she could not support such an essentially cynical view. Miss Ming was disliked by all, renowned for her stupidity. Lord Jagged would make a better mentor; Sweet Orb Mace, indeed, would make a better mentor than Miss Ming.
All the old confusion swam back into her mind, and she regretted bitterly her misguided tolerance in allowing Miss Ming to influence the boy. But still she felt no conviction; still she wondered whether self-interest, loneliness — even jealousy — had dictated her actions. Never before had she known such turmoil of conscience.
That night the sleep of Dafnish Armatuce was again disturbed, and there were dreams, vague, prophetic and terrible, from which she woke into a reality scarcely less frightening. Before dawn she fell asleep again, dreaming of her husband and her co-workers in Armatuce. Did they condemn her? It seemed so.
She became aware, as she slept, that there was pressure on her legs. She tried to move them, but something blocked them. She opened her eyes, sought the obstruction, and saw that Miss Ming sat there. She was prim today. She wore black and blue; muted, apologetic colours. Her eyes were downcast. She twisted at a cuff.
"I came to apologize," said Miss Ming.
"There is no need." Her head ached; the muscles in her back were knotted. She rubbed her face. "It was my fault, not yours."
"I was carried away. It was so delightful, you see, for me. As a girl I had no chums."
"I understand. But," more gently, "you still intrude, Miss Ming."
"I know you, too, must be very lonely. Perhaps you resent the fact that your son has a friend in me. I don't mean to be rude, but I've thought it over lots. I feel I should speak out. You shouldn't be unkind to Snuffles."
"I have been. I shall not be in future."
Miss Ming frowned. "I thought of a way to help. It would give you more freedom to live your own life. And I'm sure Snuffles would be pleased…"
"I know what to do, Miss Ming."
"You wouldn't punish him! Surely!"
"There is no such thing as punishment in Armatuce. But I must strengthen his character."
A tear gleamed. Miss Ming let it fall. "It's all my fault. But we were good friends,