“Not a poison,” said Ela. “If it really does handle planetary systems regulation, couldn't the descolada be a device for terraforming other worlds? We've never tried terraforming anything– we humans and the buggers before us only settled on worlds whose native life forms had brought them to a stasis that was similar to the stasis of Earth. An oxygen-rich atmosphere that sucked out carbon dioxide fast enough to keep the planet temperate as the star burns hotter. What if there's a species somewhere that decided that in order to develop planets suitable for colonization, they should send out the descolada virus in advance– thousands of years in advance, maybe– to intelligently transform planets into exactly the conditions they need? And then when they arrive, ready to set up housekeeping, maybe they have the countervirus that switches off the descolada so that they can establish a real gaialogy.”

“Or maybe they developed the virus so that it doesn't interfere with them or the animals they need,” said Wiggin. “Maybe they destroyed all the nonessential life on every world.”

“Either way, it explains everything. The problems I've been facing, that I can't make sense of the impossibly unnatural arrangements of molecules within the descolada– they continue to exist only because the virus works constantly to maintain all those internal contradictions. But I could never conceive of how such a self-contradictory molecule evolved in the first place. All this is answered if I know that somehow it was designed and made. What Wang-mu said Qing-jao complained about, that the descolada couldn't evolve and Lusitania's gaialogy couldn't exist in nature. Well, it doesn't exist in nature. It's an artificial virus and an artificial gaialogy.”

“You mean this actually helps?” asked Wang-mu.

Their faces showed that they had virtually forgotten she was still part of the conversation, in their excitement.

“I don't know yet,” said Ela. “But it's a new way of looking at it. For one thing, if I can start with the assumption that everything in the virus has a purpose, instead of the normal jumble of switched-on and switched-off genes that occur in nature– well, that'll help. And just knowing it was designed gives me hope that I can undesign it. Or redesign it.”

“Don't get ahead of yourself,” said Wiggin. “This is still just a hypothesis.”

“It rings true,” said Ela. “It has the feel of truth. It explains so much.”

“I feel that way, too,” said Wiggin. “But we have to try it out with the people who are most affected by it.”

“Where's Planter?” asked Ela. “We can talk to Planter.”

“And Human and Rooter,” said Wiggin. “We have to try this idea with the fathertrees.”

“This is going to hit them like a hurricane,” said Ela. Then she seemed to realize the implications of her own words. “It is, really, not just a figure of speech, it's going to hurt. To find out that their whole world is a terraforming project.”

“More important than their world,” said Wiggin. “Themselves. The third life. The descolada gave them everything they are and the most fundamental facts of their life. Remember, our best guess is that they evolved as mammal-like creatures who mated directly, male to female, the little mothers sucking life from the male sexual organs, a half-dozen at a time. That's who they were. Then the descolada transformed them, and sterilized the males until after they died and turned into trees.”

“Their very nature–”

“It was a hard thing for human beings to deal with, when we first realized how much of our behavior arose from evolutionary necessity,” said Wiggin. “There are still numberless humans who refuse to believe it. Even if it turns out to be absolutely true, do you think that the pequeninos will embrace this idea as easily as they swallowed wonders like space travel? It's one thing to see creatures from another world. It's another thing to find out that neither God nor evolution created you– that some scientist of another species did.”

“But if it's true–”

“Who knows if it's true? All we'll ever know is if the idea is useful. And to the pequeninos, it may be so devastating that they refuse to believe it forever.”

“Some will hate you for telling them,” said Wang-mu. “But some will be glad for it.”

They looked at her again– or at least Jane's computer simulation showed them looking at her. “You would know, wouldn't you,” said Wiggin. “You and Han Fei-tzu just found out that your people had been artificially enhanced.”

“And shackled, all at once,” said Wang-mu. “For me and Master Han, it was freedom. For Qing-jao …”

“There'll be many like Qing-jao among the pequeninos,” said Ela. “But Planter and Human and Rooter won't be among them, will they? They're very wise.”

“So is Qing-jao!” said Wang-mu. She spoke more hotly than she meant to. But the loyalty of a secret maid dies slowly.

“We didn't mean to say she isn't,” said Wiggin. “But she certainly isn't being wise about this, is she?”

“Not about this,” said Wang-mu.

“That's all we meant. No one likes to find out that the story he always believed about his own identity is false. The pequeninos, many of them, believe that God made them something special, just as your godspoken believe.”

“And we're not special, none of us!” cried Wang-mu. “We're all as ordinary as mud! There are no godspoken. There are no gods. They care nothing about us.”

“If there aren't any gods,” said Ela, mildly correcting her, “then they can hardly do any caring one way or another.”

“Nothing made us except for their own selfish purposes!” cried Wang-mu. “Whoever made the descolada– the pequeninos are just part of their plan. And the godspoken, part of Congress's plan.”

“As one whose birth was requested by the government,” said Wiggin, “I sympathize with your point of view. But your reaction is too hasty. After all, my parents also wanted me. And from the moment of my birth, just like every other living creature, I had my own purpose in life. Just because the people of your world were wrong about their OCD behavior being messages from the gods doesn't mean that there are no gods. Just because your former understanding of the purpose of your life is contradicted doesn't mean that you have to decide there is no purpose.”

“Oh, I know there's a purpose,” said Wang-mu. “The Congress wanted slaves! That's why they created Qing-jao– to be a slave for them. And she wants to continue in her slavery!”

“That was Congress's purpose,” said Wiggin. “But Qing-jao also had a mother and father who loved her. So did I. There are many different purposes in this world, many different causes of everything. Just because one cause you believed in turned out to be false doesn't mean that there aren't other causes that can still be trusted.”

“Oh I suppose so,” said Wang-mu. She was now ashamed of her outbursts.

“Don't bow your head before me,” said Wiggin. “Or are you doing that, Jane?”

Jane must have answered him, an answer that Wang-mu didn't hear.

“I don't care what her customs are,” said Wiggin. “The only reason for such bowing is to humiliate one person before another, and I won't have her bow that way to me. She's done nothing to be ashamed of. She's opened up a way of looking at the descolada that might just lead to the salvation of a couple of species.”

Wang-mu heard the tone of his voice. He believed this. He was honoring her, right from his own mouth.

“Not me,” she protested. “Qing-jao. They were her questions.”

“Qing-jao,” said Ela. “She's got you totally boba about her, the way Congress has Qing-jao thinking about them.”

“You can't be scornful because you don't know her,” said Wang-mu. “But she is brilliant and good and I can never be like her.”

“Gods again,” said Wiggin.

“Always gods,” said Ela.

“What do you mean?” said Wang-mu. “Qing-jao doesn't say that she's a god, and neither do I.”