I gave him a planet where the dominant sentient species could merge into a compound creature with all the powers of its separate parts.
His slew of questions stopped the story. Are you for real? How could that even be?
“It’s another planet. That’s how.”
But, I mean, are they still separate when they’re together, or all one single brain?
“One single brain that can have their separate thoughts.”
You mean, like telepathy?
“More than telepathy. A superorganism.”
Can the big one, like, get inside the heads of the little ones? Does he need them all, to make it work? What if some of the little ones don’t want to join? Or are they really just parts to begin with?
He worried the edge between friendly merger and hostile takeover. I tried to tilt his fascinated horror toward horrified fascination. “They do it voluntarily, when times are hard and they need something extra to survive. And later, when things get better, they split up again.”
He leaned forward, suspicious. Wait a minute! Like slime molds?
I’d shown him, in the labs at the university: those independent single cells that merged into a community with its own aggregate behavior and rudimentary intelligence.
You stole that from Earth! He slugged my upper arm several times in slow motion. Then he lay back on the pillow. I risked smoothing his bangs out of his eyes, the way he liked me to do when he was little.
“Robbie? You’re still upset. I can tell.”
He jerked up. How do you know?
I pointed at his fists, holding his thumbs crimson captives again. He stared, amazed that his own parts had betrayed him. He shook his hands and liberated his thumbs. Then his head dropped back onto the pillow.
Dad? What happened to her? This time, he meant it. That night, in the car.
I looked down at my own hands, which were busy tagging me. “Robin? Did Jayden say something about Mom?”
Luckily, no heavy objects were within reach. But the force of his voice alone knocked me backward. Just tell me. Tell me! He slashed back and forth. I’m nine years old. Just . . . TELL ME!
I grabbed his wrist, and the pain startled him. “You will stop right now.” I spoke with all the calm authority I could fake. “And get control of yourself. Then you will tell me what Jayden said.”
He yanked his wrist free and nursed it. Why did you do that?
I waited out my pounding pulse. He rubbed his wrist, hating me. Then he burst into tears. When I could, I held him. He tried to work his red and worthless mouth. I signaled that he had all the time on Earth.
He bared his palm and caught his breath. I was telling him about Mom’s video. He said his parents said there was more to her crash than people knew. Jayden said they think that Mom was—
I pressed his lips, as if I could push the thought back in. “It was an accident, Robbie. Nobody thinks anything else.”
That’s what I told him! But he kept on saying it. Like he knew the truth. That’s why I went nuts.
“You know? I might have slugged him myself.”
Half a syllable came up out of his throat, lost between sob and laugh. Great. He patted blindly at my upper arm. Then we’d both be toast.
“You’re not toast, Robbie. Get a tissue and wipe.”
His half-formed features smeared under his pressing hands. The squall had blown over, leaving him clear, small, but still winded.
So what did they mean, Jayden’s parents?
What kind of people knew their son was torturing mine with something they themselves had said, and didn’t alert me when I called them? Scared and scrambling, like everyone.
I’m nine, Dad. I can handle it.
I was forty-five, and couldn’t. “Robbie? There were witnesses. Everyone agrees. Something ran in front of her car.”
What do you mean? Like a person?
“An animal.” He frowned, baffled, like some cartoon boy. “You remember it was dark and icy?”
He nodded at a tiny model he was making of that evening, a foot in front of his eyes. January twelfth. Nine p.m.
“It ran in front of her car. She must have jerked the wheel. The car skidded, and that’s how she crossed the center line.”
He kept his eyes on his tiny simulation. Then he asked a question I should have been ready for. Such an obvious thing. What kind of animal?
I panicked. “Nobody knows for sure.”
Maybe a marten, or something really rare? Maybe it was a wolverine.
“I don’t know, buddy. Nobody does.”
Calculations ran through his head. The oncoming car. The nearby pedestrians. The two of us, waiting for her to come home. I lasted ten seconds. The shame of owning up couldn’t be worse than the nausea I felt.