For copyright warnings, see Chapter 1
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Four years had past since the arrival in Oaxaca. They had enlarged the quarry by, removing much of the loose stones that they used to fortify the sides. The village was now lower with the path to the floor of the manmade quarry more secure. The inhabitants had tried to plant several flowering shrubs towards the top, but somehow the roots did not take. The soil was devoid of nutrients and only patches of grass could grow because the former inhabitants of the area had removed much of the vegetation in their effort to get appropriately building quality stones. However, the parents of the New Species did not have to worry. They carted buckets of dirt and made compost so now plots of gardens ran besides the houses, fed by underground springs. The generator produced enough electricity, and each house had enough tools to work with. The adults were not responsible for much of this work. It was children. They were amazing.
The only thing the adults could not understand was their reluctance to climb in their soft feather mattresses. They preferred to sleep on the hard ground or on a stone slab they found from the quarry which they first painted black and carved with a section of the night sky.
Their small fingers had improved a saw so that it cut faster, their keen eyes had spotted an herb that when mixed with another, produced a poison in which to kill flies. When their parents read a book, the children could not only pick it up and read it, but also understand.
At four, they were already making small gardens and improving the machinery. Little Roderick was a great help, pretending to be a police officer. It was too bad that they seldom smiled nor cried. Well it was not a smile, more like a sneer and they always wanting to fight or to attack someone or something.
"Father," said Lewis, "give me the gun and I will protect you."
"We don't need protection. And I told you guns are dangerous." Alfred could not understand the look of contempt his four-year old son gave him. The boy did not realize the enormity, the cost of a major World War. Carmichael had determined, that is all the adults determined, to raise these children in a place free of conflict. For that, they had banned all weapons except for a few for hunting for food and that was not necessary since now they had a few animals, mostly strays from the locals. When the time came, MI-5 would come and bring along officers who would give the children, now adults the proper military training. However, now was not the time. Let the children remain children for now.
So the children devoid of what they desired most, concentrated on governmental procedures. To this the adults considered a diversion, an amusement. Alfred looked out his door, seeing his oldest son with his friends over at the makeshift hall. Only it did not look makeshift.
.
.
Paul and Roderick were the instigators, bringing rocks over and making a foundation, while the others used their small fingers, knives and axes to remove the bark from fallen trees, and to use ropes, every child working to pull them down the ladder and finally to erect a hall.
It was not like anything anyone had seen. They laid each log, now flat on all sides, one on top of another on the stone foundation. It must have taken quite a few to make a hall for when Carmichael went up later to notify MI-5 of their progress, all the loose logs were no longer in the area. The hall was long and narrow with only one door. Only they called it a council. They even called their friends over, Lewis, Gregory, and Stewart over and in severe tones said, "We call this the Council."
"The children are very serious this morning," said Susan as she observed the children going towards the hall with buckets of some paint or plaster, "I wonder what they have in mind."
"It's better than running off and getting killed," said Alfred, "anyway I've got to make my report."
"Why aren't we the only ones here?"
"Yes. And with the population growth, I have to notify headquarters that they might need more than one military school to train them. Quadruplets every time."
"Like the last one. With them coming at seven months instead of nine, I have eighteen kids to attend to—not that I mind, they're very easy to care for." She put two of youngest to breast. They gobbled greedily, and dozed. She then picked up their sisters. "It's easy. They stop nursing at three months. By six months, they're walking. It's as if I gave birth to grownups instead of babies."
"Fight father?"
Carmichael turned around to see his son, little Lewis with a sword in hand. Now how could he find one? "Where did you get that?"
"I made it. Fight father?"
"No. You go fight your friends. But be sure to use a wooden sword."
The look that Lewis gave him frightened his father, but he dismissed it as nonsense.
Alfred went back to his work, fixing up the roof to the house, looking down and seeing his son and Roderick engaged in a battle of sorts. They appeared to be Knights in Shining Armor, strapping soft metal around them, and then they changed. Now they were acting like savages, jumping from place to place, hiding in the brush, and then pouncing on the other children who scattered with that peculiar laughter of theirs.
The moon started to go down, and Alfred called for everyone to get to bed, but got no acknowledgement. Wondering why his wife did not admonish the children, he saw a light coming from the Hall, and decided to see what was keeping the children. Perhaps he should have been more firm.
What he saw made him smile. Here were the children hammering a large log, shaving it clean as if they were making a board. Their little fingers worked laboriously making it flat, removing the bark with a speed that seemed incredible. One of the children held up something that seemed to be a torch but no flame flickered from it, just a steady golden light. He left, spoke to Morgan who was on guard and went back to his house.
"What are the kinder up to?" asked Susan.
"Making a table. They even used one of the flashlights, making it look like a torch. They'll be in bed soon."
"Good thing we've got Morgan outside." Susan decided to leave the door open, just in case.
"He's good with the children." Still Alfred began to have misgivings. Each year, no each month, no each day, the children grew in height as well as in intelligence. When Lewis was two, he looked older, but now that they were four, they went through a growth spurt. It was frightening, his own son could no longer wear the pants his mother made him just last week. . It was as if the normal spurt starting at twelve or thirteen, started earlier in their children. Normally a boy started spurting at thirteen or fourteen and was a man biologically at sixteen or eighteen. With girls, the spurt did not occur. Carmichael compared it to the New Species.
At four years old, the boys would be biologically adult at eight to ten years and the girls, well if they were normal, fathers would start to worry on the girls sixteenth birthday, and some cases as young as thirteen.
"Susan," Alfred said, "Our girls will start to have babies when their eight at the rate they're growing."
His wife shivered. "What have we done? What have we done?"
They turned suddenly on hearing a sound. Lewis had suddenly come up behind them and by the looks on his face, had understood everything.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Four years had past since the arrival in Oaxaca. They had enlarged the quarry by, removing much of the loose stones that they used to fortify the sides. The village was now lower with the path to the floor of the manmade quarry more secure. The inhabitants had tried to plant several flowering shrubs towards the top, but somehow the roots did not take. The soil was devoid of nutrients and only patches of grass could grow because the former inhabitants of the area had removed much of the vegetation in their effort to get appropriately building quality stones. However, the parents of the New Species did not have to worry. They carted buckets of dirt and made compost so now plots of gardens ran besides the houses, fed by underground springs. The generator produced enough electricity, and each house had enough tools to work with. The adults were not responsible for much of this work. It was children. They were amazing.
The only thing the adults could not understand was their reluctance to climb in their soft feather mattresses. They preferred to sleep on the hard ground or on a stone slab they found from the quarry which they first painted black and carved with a section of the night sky.
Their small fingers had improved a saw so that it cut faster, their keen eyes had spotted an herb that when mixed with another, produced a poison in which to kill flies. When their parents read a book, the children could not only pick it up and read it, but also understand.
At four, they were already making small gardens and improving the machinery. Little Roderick was a great help, pretending to be a police officer. It was too bad that they seldom smiled nor cried. Well it was not a smile, more like a sneer and they always wanting to fight or to attack someone or something.
"Father," said Lewis, "give me the gun and I will protect you."
"We don't need protection. And I told you guns are dangerous." Alfred could not understand the look of contempt his four-year old son gave him. The boy did not realize the enormity, the cost of a major World War. Carmichael had determined, that is all the adults determined, to raise these children in a place free of conflict. For that, they had banned all weapons except for a few for hunting for food and that was not necessary since now they had a few animals, mostly strays from the locals. When the time came, MI-5 would come and bring along officers who would give the children, now adults the proper military training. However, now was not the time. Let the children remain children for now.
So the children devoid of what they desired most, concentrated on governmental procedures. To this the adults considered a diversion, an amusement. Alfred looked out his door, seeing his oldest son with his friends over at the makeshift hall. Only it did not look makeshift.
.
.
Paul and Roderick were the instigators, bringing rocks over and making a foundation, while the others used their small fingers, knives and axes to remove the bark from fallen trees, and to use ropes, every child working to pull them down the ladder and finally to erect a hall.
It was not like anything anyone had seen. They laid each log, now flat on all sides, one on top of another on the stone foundation. It must have taken quite a few to make a hall for when Carmichael went up later to notify MI-5 of their progress, all the loose logs were no longer in the area. The hall was long and narrow with only one door. Only they called it a council. They even called their friends over, Lewis, Gregory, and Stewart over and in severe tones said, "We call this the Council."
"The children are very serious this morning," said Susan as she observed the children going towards the hall with buckets of some paint or plaster, "I wonder what they have in mind."
"It's better than running off and getting killed," said Alfred, "anyway I've got to make my report."
"Why aren't we the only ones here?"
"Yes. And with the population growth, I have to notify headquarters that they might need more than one military school to train them. Quadruplets every time."
"Like the last one. With them coming at seven months instead of nine, I have eighteen kids to attend to—not that I mind, they're very easy to care for." She put two of youngest to breast. They gobbled greedily, and dozed. She then picked up their sisters. "It's easy. They stop nursing at three months. By six months, they're walking. It's as if I gave birth to grownups instead of babies."
"Fight father?"
Carmichael turned around to see his son, little Lewis with a sword in hand. Now how could he find one? "Where did you get that?"
"I made it. Fight father?"
"No. You go fight your friends. But be sure to use a wooden sword."
The look that Lewis gave him frightened his father, but he dismissed it as nonsense.
Alfred went back to his work, fixing up the roof to the house, looking down and seeing his son and Roderick engaged in a battle of sorts. They appeared to be Knights in Shining Armor, strapping soft metal around them, and then they changed. Now they were acting like savages, jumping from place to place, hiding in the brush, and then pouncing on the other children who scattered with that peculiar laughter of theirs.
The moon started to go down, and Alfred called for everyone to get to bed, but got no acknowledgement. Wondering why his wife did not admonish the children, he saw a light coming from the Hall, and decided to see what was keeping the children. Perhaps he should have been more firm.
What he saw made him smile. Here were the children hammering a large log, shaving it clean as if they were making a board. Their little fingers worked laboriously making it flat, removing the bark with a speed that seemed incredible. One of the children held up something that seemed to be a torch but no flame flickered from it, just a steady golden light. He left, spoke to Morgan who was on guard and went back to his house.
"What are the kinder up to?" asked Susan.
"Making a table. They even used one of the flashlights, making it look like a torch. They'll be in bed soon."
"Good thing we've got Morgan outside." Susan decided to leave the door open, just in case.
"He's good with the children." Still Alfred began to have misgivings. Each year, no each month, no each day, the children grew in height as well as in intelligence. When Lewis was two, he looked older, but now that they were four, they went through a growth spurt. It was frightening, his own son could no longer wear the pants his mother made him just last week. . It was as if the normal spurt starting at twelve or thirteen, started earlier in their children. Normally a boy started spurting at thirteen or fourteen and was a man biologically at sixteen or eighteen. With girls, the spurt did not occur. Carmichael compared it to the New Species.
At four years old, the boys would be biologically adult at eight to ten years and the girls, well if they were normal, fathers would start to worry on the girls sixteenth birthday, and some cases as young as thirteen.
"Susan," Alfred said, "Our girls will start to have babies when their eight at the rate they're growing."
His wife shivered. "What have we done? What have we done?"
They turned suddenly on hearing a sound. Lewis had suddenly come up behind them and by the looks on his face, had understood everything.