“Aw, we’d figure something out. I’d help you.”

“And I’d help you. I can see almost as well at night as I can during the day,” the larva told him. “I was informed that you cannot.”

“You can see in the dark?” Matthew’s eyes went wide.

“Quite well. Not as well as my ancestors, but well enough.”

“Wow.” Matthew could not conceal his awe. “I sure wish I could’. Sometimes back home I wake up at night and can’t find the light panels in the floor and bump around in the dark trying to find the bathroom.”

“Bathroom?” Moul echoed, and the conversation shifted easily from the aesthetics of architecture and plans for nocturnal excursions to another tack altogether.

Weeks passed. The adults were delighted at the children’s progress, much of which originated with the experimental subjects themselves.

“Want to play Cowboys and Indians?” Matthew asked his friend. It was raining hard outside the Interaction Room. There could be no thought of venturing outside, even by oneself.

“I don’t know,” Moul said curiously. “What’s ‘Cowboys and Indians?’”

“Well, once upon a time on Earth there was a noble, intelligent, handsome, and just generally sort of neat people called Indians.” Matthew enjoyed being the one to explain for a change. He didn’t for a moment doubt that Moul was smarter than he was, but somehow the usual resentment he felt toward smarter kids didn’t apply to the larva. After all, Moul had received a lot more education and was perhaps a Terran year older than he.

“Anyway, their lands were invaded one day by a bunch of people called the Cowboys. The Cowboys were real nasty. They burned and slaughtered and stole and lied and all kinds of bad things until finally there were only a few Indians left. Eventually, though, the Indians got even because times changed and the life force that kept the Cowboys going faded away from their economy and they all died out. But the Indians kept their traditions and beliefs and lived happily ever after in the end.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very nice story,” murmured Moul doubtfully, “despite the happy ending. I’m not sure I want to play … but if you really want to …”

“Yeah, sure.” Matthew climbed to his feet

Moul rippled back from the human. “It sounds awfully violent, Matthew. I don’t like violent games.”

“It won’t be bad,” the boy assured him. “Now, I’m going to be the Indians and you can be the Cowboys.”

Moul considered. “I think I’d prefer to be the Indians.”

“No. I suggested the game,” Matthew was a mite belligerent, “and I’m going to be the Indians.”

“All right. You can be the Indians.”

Matthew frowned at him. “What do you mean, I can be the Indians? Just like that?”

“Well, of course. Why not?”

“But you said you wanted to be the Indians.”