"The fourth generation of cloned sterile mice showed the same degeneracy that all clones show by then," David said wearily. "But they also had a twenty-five percent fertility factor. The offspring have shorter lives, but more fertile members. This trend continues to the sixth generation, where fertility is up to ninety-four percent and life expectancy starts to climb again, and then it's on its way to normalcy steadily." He had it all on the charts that Walt now studied. A, A1, A2, A3, A4, and their offspring by sexual reproduction, a, a1, a2… There were no clone strains after A4; none had survived to maturity.

David leaned back and closed his eyes and thought about bed and a blanket up around his neck and black, black sleep. "Higher organisms must reproduce sexually or die out, and the ability to do so is there. Something remembers and heals itself," he said dreamily.

"You'll be a great man when you publish," Vlasic said, his hand on David's shoulder. He then moved to sit next to Walt, to point out some of the details that Walt might miss. "A marvelous piece of work," he said softly, his eyes glowing as he looked over the pages. "Marvelous." Then he glanced back at David. "Of course, you are aware of the other implications of your work."

David opened his eyes and met Vlasic's gaze. He nodded. Puzzled, Walt looked from one to the other of them. David got up and stretched. "I have to sleep," he said.

But it was a long time before he slept. He had a single room at the hospital, more fortunate than most, who were sleeping doubled up. The hospital had more than two hundred beds, but few single rooms. The implications, he mused. He had been aware of them from the start, although he had not admitted it even to himself then, and was not ready to discuss it now. They weren't certain yet. Three of the women were pregnant finally, after a year and a half of barrenness. Margaret was near term, the baby well and kicking at the moment. Five more weeks, he thought. Five more weeks, and perhaps he never would have to discuss the implications of his work.

But Margaret didn't wait five weeks. In two weeks she delivered a stillborn child. Zelda had a miscarriage the following week, and in the next week May lost her child. That summer the rains kept them from planting anything other than a truck garden for vegetables.

Walt began testing the men for fertility, and reported to David and Vlasic that no man in the valley was fertile.

"So," Vlasic said softly, "we now see the significance of David's work."

Chapter 4