Anna shrugged. "I don't know. IO doesn't know what they created when they made the Gen Twelves, and they know even less about the Thirteens. What I do know is that there's no recorded instance of a Gen dying of natural causes." She looked at her. "No surprise with you kids, but the Elevens and Twelves are getting old enough for age-related problems to be showing up. Half the Elevens are dead by their own hand, and another ten were killed when they got out of control. There are ten left, ages ranging from forty to sixty-five, and they're perfectly healthy, even the ones too crazy to let out of the basement.

"Of the thirty-four Twelves IO started with, twelve are dead by misadventure: killed on missions, that is, so IO knows they're dead. Four are missing and presumed still alive. Remove the ones who've disappeared from the sample, and you've got eighteen men, aged fifty to sixty, with perfectly normal medical histories prior to manifesting. Eleven of them are in restraints, having gone gradually insane over a period of years; but their health is monitored carefully. Operations monitors the men who are still active, not for research, but for performance evaluation. I don't think anyone at Research has even noticed that not one of those two dozen men, sane or insane, has been diagnosed with cancer or heart disease or diabetes; no arthritis or failing eyesight; not even male-pattern baldness or enlarged prostates. The troopers' times on their daily runs are within seconds of their thirty-year-old times. Their scores on the practice range average better."

Anna looked at her. "I don't know about immortality. But if you're careful, you're going to live a very long time. And if Roxanne smokes all her life, I bet she doesn't get cancer, or anything that quitting won't cure."

Anna let her drive in silence for a while, letting that sink in. "Right at the next intersection," she said. "Cross the expressway again and turn left."

Caitlin did, and the road climbed until they were on a low ridge. Orchards and greenery lined the road to their right; to the left, the expressway lay in the bottom of a steep cut. Both roads continued their steady climb. "I see now. This could cause a world war. If it's suppressed or restricted and its existence becomes common knowledge, the have-nots will do anything to get it away from the haves. That's short term. Long term, with lifespans extended God knows how long and the birth rate the same, we'll breed ourselves into extinction, a massive dieback, billions starving to death or killing one another. A Malthusian catastrophe."

"Caitlin. There's more."

"What could be bigger than that?"

"Gen-factor may be intelligent."

"Anna," she said slowly, "how far on the other side of the looking-glass are we going to go? Gen-factor's a drug."

"No. It's a series of treatments, including drugs. Also including engineered DNA, introduced by a viral agent. That's how your fathers' genes were altered.

"Evolutionary theory says that occasional mutations are introduced into a species, and natural selection determines whether they're conserved or disappear. Would a longevity gene be conserved through natural selection?"

"Well, sure."

"Why? It's not a species survival trait. As you pointed out, it can be harmful to a species to have its members live too long. And it slows the evolutionary process. Ideally, a species' individuals should only live long enough to reproduce, and maybe nurture their offspring to adulthood. Then they pass the torch, and die to get out of the way and conserve resources. So why are the long-life genetic changes from Gen-factor conserved in all Gen offspring?"

"I don't know. I must have slept through that class."

"Because those traits are linked to other traits that give Gens a distinct competitive and reproductive edge. So distinct, it's in the species' best interest to keep the individuals carrying them alive and breeding for as long as possible. You'd think it was part of the genetic designers' plan. Only it wasn't, any more than your weird talents."

"Like immunity from disease?"

"No, that was part of the original design; so were your speed and intelligence and athleticism. However. Did it never seem strange to you, how good-looking everyone at the Academy was?"

"Ivery looked like Ben Kingsley. And the lady who ran the kitchen looked like Ernest Borgnine."

"You know what I mean. Students, not staff. Including Matt and Nicole, because they're Gen too."

She nodded. "As if the Academy was the set for a movie about a school for gifted kids. We joked about it being part of the selection process. Asked each other what the audition was like, and what role we were cast in. You know, all the formula characters: class slut, the clown, the bully jock, the bitch cheerleader…. I was the dateless nerdy girl who turns into a beauty queen just by taking off her glasses."

"I'll bet you were."

"Not in that crowd. I faded right into the walls, until my change. Being pretty, that's the reproductive edge you're talking about?"

"One of them. Another is pure Gen. I started noticing it the first day I met you. Trawling through IO's database, I hit veiled references to an attribute, common among Gens, that they call 'I/S Effect.' 'I/S' stands for 'incubus/succubus.' You know the terms?"

"Gawd," she said, borrowing a term from her sister.

"I call it 'allure.' Sounds better, I think. It's real, some psychic effect. It's a little different for each of you, but you've all got it. In general, it works like this: under the right conditions, you can draw and monopolize the attention of members of the opposite sex, at ranges from five to fifty meters. It's emotionally triggered, and the intensity varies with the triggering emotion. For example, Roxanne broadcasts when she's happy, enjoying herself, feeling sensual pleasure."

The empty dance floors.

"You and Sarah, on the other hand, mostly broadcast when you're scared, uncomfortable, uneasy. It's a little different for each of you. You and Roxanne can switch it off entirely, by removing the trigger emotion. You don't switch off much, hon, because guys stare at you all the time, and male attention makes you nervous. Sarah… seems to broadcast in more than one mode. She triggers the same as you, and when she starts acting the tramp besides, what you girls call 'slut mode,' she can bring the house down. But even when she's not trying, even when she's comfortable, maybe reading a book, cozy in her own little world, she's sending out a carrier wave that will turn a man's head within ten meters."

"Gee. And I always thought it was because she was mad hot."

"Believe me, hon, the most beautiful girl in the world doesn't have this effect on men if she's not Gen. Sure, a guy will stare at a pretty girl for thirty seconds if he can get away with it, while fantasies run through his head. That's different from having his whole attention pulled to a woman at first glance, helpless to look away. A passing sexual fantasy is a nothing like the sudden certainty that he's looking at the most desirable woman he's ever seen. The pheromone counts when you girls are out together in public are probably toxic. And if it was just a matter of your looks, why do other Gens seem to have a partial immunity?"

"Oh?"

"There are lots of times you've been nervous around Bobby. If he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, if he was looking at you with lust in his heart, you'd know it, wouldn't you?"

She swallowed. "I certainly hope so." She had a thought. "Does Bobby..."

"Yes. When he's uneasy or uncertain. Eddie, too, but that little horn dog has so much self-confidence it seldom triggers."

"I'm going to say a prayer of thanks for that tonight." Another thought struck. "Nicole."

"Yes. For her, it's not just a gimmick to give her a reproductive edge; it's her main talent, her big gun. Her allure is to yours and Sarah's as a jet engine is to a hair dryer, and her control is precise as a surgeon's. The carrier wave alone is so powerful, even women are affected. Even Gen females. Not by producing sexual desire, but a feeling of intimacy that makes her everybody's friend, somebody you can trust with your secrets. And when she fires up her projector and turns it on men, they become her slaves, I kid you not. She can take over a man's pleasure center entirely; make him behave like a junkie overdue for a fix, or induce paralyzing orgasms. And she's not gentle with men. There are references to her lovers… dying in the act."

"Bobby," she breathed. "She…"

"Her allure doesn't work on him. I don't know why. But it probably saved his life."

"The way she chased him was always so strange. Any guy at the Project would have gone a week without food for a night with her. She turned down passes every day at first; perfectly poised and matter-of-fact, like she expected every guy she met to try. She never made one feel bad about it afterwards. But Bobby was always different. He seemed uneasy around her, and the harder she hit on him, the worse it got." She quirked a smile. "And she was so clumsy about it. It made a lot of the other girls snicker, watching them together. I honestly think I would have had better technique, dateless wonder that I am."

"Caitlin Fairchild, if you didn't have a date every night of the week, it was by choice. I've seen the pictures. Even with the coltish figure and the glasses, you were beautiful." Anna looked at her, making a fanning gesture. "And that was before you manifested. Woo!"

Something broke loose inside. Her mouth twisted. "This isn't beauty."

Suddenly the car's interior, which had seemed comfortably snug, now seemed claustrophobic; the air felt heavy and hot. I'm taking up all the oxygen. Got to have air. She wrenched the wheel to the right and stepped on the brakes.

"Hon, what's wrong?"

She pulled the car over to the shoulder and stopped. She fumbled with the seat belt and popped it off. Horns blared as she swung open the door and headed for the grass. She tripped on something and went down on her hands and knees.

"Caitlin!"

She got up and managed to get to the grass before she sank to her knees. Her vision blurred. Dammit. I thought I was done with this.

She felt Anna's arms slip around her. "Hon?"

"If I'm so beautiful, h-how come he wuh-wouldn't even look at me?" She looked down. "This isn't me. I should look like you, or Roxy. Not some… Amazon… fertility goddess." Gradually, she regained control of herself, and her breathing eased, but her eyes kept misting up, making her blink. She hiccupped. "You're right, I suppose I could have had a boyfriend, but I was too reserved, too scared of looking stupid or getting hurt, too something. I'd see other girls, even ones who were plain as an old ball glove, surrounded by guys and completely at ease when they were flirting. The boys keeping them company would glance my way and look through me as if I wasn't there. And I'd wish, just once in a while, that some guy would look at me." The breath that pushed out of her was almost a moan. "Oh, you should be so careful what you wish for. Now almost every man who looks my way stares until his eyeballs dry out, and he still doesn't see me."

She folded her legs under her and sat, hands in lap, not caring about grass stains on her slacks. Anna's arms released her and refastened around her neck. "I don't even have anyone to talk to about it. No one understands. Guys think I'm fishing for compliments. Girls think I'm just BS'ing them for drama. Some of them say, 'I'd love to have your problems.' Well, give it a try, sister. Walk a mile in my size elevens. See what happens the first time you don't run the car seat all the way back before you get in, or walk through a doorway with more than an inch of heel on your shoes. You'll never have another meaningful conversation with a guy; you'll be lucky to get eye contact. Like to play dress up? Shopping gets boring when only three stores in town can sell you something besides sweats… and two of them carry the same merchandise. You can order online, but you can't hold something in your hands or try it on or ask a friend how it looks."

She brushed absently at the dirt on her thighs. "Last time I bothered to go through the racks, I found exactly seven pairs of pants in the whole store with a thirty-eight-inch inseam, none of which fit my waist. Dresses – forget it. Anything I can get past these hangs off me like a burnoose. As the salesgirl delicately put it, I'm 'disproportionate.'"

Anna made no comment, but she felt the cyber's child-sized fingers comb through her hair.

"When it started, it was awful. It wasn't like puberty; it was like changing into a werewolf. I didn't know what was coming next, whether my clothes would even fit me the next morning. And every day, the kids would stare at me like a circus freak, looking for any change from the day before. I got leery of mirrors." She closed her eyes, feeling wrung out.

Anna's voice was lullaby-gentle. "Sweetheart… he looked, plenty. And it wasn't the pinup-girl carcass that took his fancy, either. He made you his team leader over his own son; that's a sign of respect for what you had before the change, and still have: courage and smarts. And he likes you as a person. When he looks at you, he sees you.

"But he couldn't take his feelings for you any farther. He lives by a moral code that's convoluted to most people but very clear to him. You're a female under his protection, a dependent, and that makes you off limits; it would feel like taking advantage, trying to make you a whore. And there's something special about his relationship with your father, dear: I don't understand it, but it seems clear he feels he would dishonor one of his oldest friends if he was to… dally with his daughter. He knew about your feelings for him, and it touched him, deeply. But he convinced himself you were having a passing fancy; you were bound to realize someday you'd been obsessing over a horribly scarred man older than your father. That's why he kept his distance."

"Well, what about you? Aren't you a dependent? Aren't you too young for him?"

"As far as we can tell, IO's not looking for me, and I'm free to strike out on my own. That's why he started paying me; it was an acknowledgement that I could support myself and live independently if I wanted to. And age doesn't mean anything in reference to me. I was born looking the same age as you, and I'll look like this when you're a grandmother, if we're both alive by then. My life started two years ago, but I learn a lot faster than bios; I live faster." The little cyber rested a chin on top of her head as she held her. "And I still had to throw myself at him to get him. You'd blush hearing the story, believe me."

"Is this the part where you tell me I'll find somebody else?"

"No." She could feel Anna's head shaking as it rested on hers. "You have high standards. And you're going to find yourself surrounded by men who want to… either put you on a pedestal for worship, or mount you on the wall for a trophy; your sex-goddess looks will make it tough to find the man you want. You'll have to learn how to separate the wheat from the chaff. Frankly, I don't know how you're going to do it; you need advice from a girlfriend with serious dating experience." She felt the expelled breath of a sigh. "I could wish Bobby were twins. That would be a perfect solution, wouldn't it? You could both have him then."

She was shocked. "I-"

She felt fingers on her lips. "Don't. I know better. I feel it too. They're stamped from the same mold. If you really love Jack, you can't help loving Bobby too. But he's spoken for, isn't he?"

She nodded. "Ever since I've known him, he's been hopeless over her. I'd never try to come between them, even though she treats him like dirt half the time. Maybe, if they broke up for good…" She shook her head. "But it'll never happen."

Anna gave her a hug. "I've got nothing to base it on, but I do think you'll find someone. Someone as wonderful as you was never meant to go through life alone. In the meantime, you've got us, hon. All of us." Her manner changed abruptly. "Uh oh. Don't move. Highway Patrol."

Then she heard it too: the faint crunch of tires on gravel behind them, growing louder. "Do you think it's anything?"

"It's just because we're on the side of the road, but we're close enough to the mall and Miramar that an APB might be out. For us, not the car." Anna let go and straightened as they heard the car's idle change when it shifted into park. She saw the flashing lights now, reflecting off bits of mica in the grass. "Don't turn around, don't look this way. Don't get up for any reason. Don't wipe your face. I'll handle this." She heard her take ten or twelve steps towards the car. "It's okay," she heard her say. "She's just a little under the weather. We'll be back on the road in a few minutes."

The man's voice was young and stern. "Hung over, or still drinking? Are you the driver?" Don't lie, Anna; one glance at the front seats and he'll know.

Anna pitched her voice so low she could barely hear. "She's the driver. It's not booze. It's chemo."

The tone of the patrolman's voice changed. "Cancer?"

"Uterine. They want to try drugs first. If she goes under the knife, she'll lose everything." She paused. "She's been dating this guy for a year. She thinks he's about to ask. But he wants kids. She's afraid he might leave her."

A pause. "Is she right? Would he?"

"She's kidding herself. I know them both. I know he'll leave her." Another pause. "God's sake, she's twenty years old."

She felt tears start fresh. I know I'm feeling a little weepy right now, but this is ridiculous. She's got me crying over someone I know doesn't exist.

"Will she be okay?" Now he didn't sound like a cop at all.

"Yeah. She just needs a little time. She'll put herself back together again, and get on with it. I just hope, when her hair falls out, it comes out all at once, so we can get a wig made with it. That wouldn't be too much to pray for, would you think?"

She heard heavy shoes moving through the grass towards her. She rocked slightly. Don't overdo it. She hugged herself, concealing her breasts. Would an APB include a description of these?

He stopped to one side and just behind. "Are you okay, miss?"

She turned her head up towards him; it would have been suspicious not to. He glanced down at her face and averted his eyes. My face is a wreck; he's embarrassed for me. I'm sitting on the ground, he can't gauge my height. My landmarks are covered and he'd feel like a total pervert for giving them a glance anyway. If I tied my hair back, he'd never pick me out of a lineup. She gave him a weak smile. "Just a little carsick. It's passing."

He seemed about to say something, but he turned instead. Before he left, he said softly, "A man who wouldn't stand by you through this doesn't deserve you." He walked quickly away. To Anna he said, "If she needs anything, call me. Here's my card. That's my dispatcher, and the number on the back is my cell. Do you have a license?" She must have nodded. "Good. I can wait until you're back on the road."

"If you do, it'll make her feel worse. She's trying to keep everything, you know, normal, for as long as she can."

"Okay then," he said reluctantly. "Take care. Don't lose that card. I'll be back this way in fifteen minutes, just in case." She heard the door open and close, and the cruiser accelerated away.

"Jeezo petes, girlfriend. Were you that scared?" Anna offered her a hand up.

"What?"

"Your allure. The grass was bending towards you, I swear. He came to you like you were reeling him in on a line. Even with a boyfriend in the story, he was this close to asking you out."

"I guess I was. How did you come up with that story?"

The little cyber grinned. "Daytime TV." She looked down the road. "We'd better go. Are you okay?"

"I will be, as soon as I get this fright mask off my face. Any tissues in the car?"

"Every car I equip has tissues. Good thing, too. The women in this family spend way too much time wiping one another's tears."

By late afternoon, they were rolling towards their final errand, a small car rental agency in San Diego. Anna was well satisfied; the trunk was filled with packages from half a dozen stores, and on the back seat was a second overnight bag, brand new and carefully packed.

"Are you sure you don't want some backup?"

"Positive, hon. There's a good chance Jack was spotted while he was moving, and he's being followed in hopes he'll lead them to the rest of us. To get Jack loose from his surveillance, we may need to surprise them from cover. You're the first of us that they'd spot. You're too easy to recognize from a description, and too hard to disguise. Just drop me off a block from the rental lot."

Caitlin's emerald eyes looked her up and down, as the car wound around a hillside on the two-lane road. "Speaking of blending in, I have to say that 'inconspicuous' isn't the word that comes to mind, looking at you in that outfit."

She tipped her sunglasses down on her nose and looked at the redhead over the rims. "Think I'm trying too hard?"

"I don't know what to think. Where are you meeting him?"

"A mall in Phoenix. We may overnight somewhere in between; I'll call."

"Uh huh." She looked back out the windshield and said carefully, "You going to wear that home?"

"I was planning to. I have a promise to keep."

"Good."