"Exactly."
"Something that wiped out all but a handful of species that were able to adapt."
"Yes," said Ela. "You see? And I have proof. The cabras have a huddling behavior pattern. When you come up on them, when they smell you, they circle with the adults facing inward, so they can kick out at the intruder and protect the young."
"Lots of herd animals do that."
"Protect them from what? The piggies are completely sylvan--they never hunt on the prairie. Whatever the predator was that forced the cabra to develop that behavior pattern, it's gone. And only recently--in the last hundred thousand years, the last million years maybe."
"There's no evidence of any meteor
falls more recent than twenty million years," said the Speaker.
"No. That kind of disaster would kill off all the big animals and plants and leave hundreds of small ones, or maybe kill all land life and leave only the sea. But land, sea, all the environments were stripped, and yet some big creatures survived. No, I think it was a disease. A disease that struck across all species boundaries, that could adapt itself to any living thing. Of course, we wouldn't notice that disease now because all the species left alive have adapted to it. It would be part of their regular life pattern. The only way we'd notice the disease--"
"Is if we caught it," said the Speaker. "The Descolada."
"You see? Everything comes back to the Descolada. My grandparents found a way to stop it from killing humans, but it took the best genetic manipulation. The cabra, the watersnakes, they also found ways to adapt, and I doubt it was with dietary supplements. I think it all ties in together. The weird reproductive anomalies, the emptiness of the ecosystem, it all comes back to the Descolada bodies, and Mother won't let me examine them. She won't let me study what they are, how they work, how they might be involved with--"
"With the piggies."
"Well, of course, but not just them, all the animals--"
The Speaker looked like he was suppressing excitement. As if she had explained something difficult. "The night that Pipo died, she locked the files showing all her current work, and she locked the files containing all the Descolada research. Whatever she showed Pipo had to do with the Descolada bodies, and it had to do with the piggies--"
"That's when she locked the files?" asked Ela.
"Yes. Yes."
"Then I'm right, aren't I."
"Yes," he said. "Thank you. You've helped me more than you know."
"Does this mean that you'll speak Father's death soon?"
The Speaker looked at her carefully. "You don't want me to speak your father, really. You want me to speak your mother."
"She isn't dead."
"But you know I can't possibly speak Marcao without explaining why he married Novinha, and why they stayed married all those years."
"That's right. I want all the secrets opened up. I want all the files unlocked. I don't want anything hidden."
"You don't know what you're asking," said the Speaker. "You don't know how much pain it will cause if all the secrets come out."
"Take a look at my family, Speaker," she answered. "How can the truth cause any more pain than the secrets have already caused?"
He smiled at her, but it was not a mirthful smile. It was--affectionate, even pitying. "You're right," he said, "completely right, but you may have trouble realizing that, when you hear the whole story."
"I know the whole story, as far as it can be known."
"That's what everybody thinks, and nobody's right."
"When will you have the speaking?"
"As soon as I can."
"Then why not now? Today? What are you waiting for?"