Accidental Creatures by Anne Harris Page B

sister’s house by hand. The levcar emerged from the parking garage and took a left onto Grand River, heading east towards the I-88 levway. He dialed the stereo for Vivaldi and set the retinal glass of the cabin’s windows to transparent.
    The traffic was heavy but well-behaved. Levcars wove amongst each other seamlessly, guided by the surface of the road. Despite the beauty of the day, the tranquil music and the lush stands of trees gliding by on the banks of the levway, Hector could not relax. Graham’s visit to the lab that morning had left him deeply uneasy. Graham had accepted the excuse about the isolation study, for the moment, but sooner or later he would uncover the truth about the project, and Hector couldn’t even bring himself to think about what would happen then.
    He had tried calling Lilith, but as usual she would not take his call. Lilith — she was named for the first woman, the one God made along with Adam, before Eve. Created equal to Adam, she demanded equal treatment, and became a demon in the eyes of the religion Hector was born into. A religion he turned to now, despite its faults, for the reassurance of the familiar rituals of the Sabbath. Bloomfield Hills was a forest of oaks and demi-elms, riddled with small maglev lanes that wove like twisting streams around the ample yards of the houses. Many of the homes here were in the late eco style, barely discernable from the hills and fields surrounding them. His sister’s place was one of these, three-quarters underground and surrounded by terraced gardens.
    The driveway cut into the hillside. The maglev parked itself and Hector reached into his suit pocket and took out his yarmulke. It had been given to him by his father at his bar mitzvah. The once-sumptuous blue velvet had faded and taken on a silvery sheen, much like his hair, but the feel of the worn fabric as he slipped it over his bald spot recalled to him the awkwardness of puberty and his nervousness at standing before his family’s congregation to read from the Torah.
    Setting the memory aside, Hector got out of the maglev and climbed the flagstone steps to the doorway of his sister’s house. Recessed in an alcove and overshadowed by the low hanging roof, the entrance was virtually invisible from the road. He raised his hand to the knockpad but the door opened before he could strike it.
    “Hector, gebubulah!” His sister Cerise greeted him with outstretched arms. Hector paused on the threshold to kiss the mezuzah, and entered her welcoming embrace. “Come in, come in,” she said, drawing him down the hallway. “I’m so glad you could break away from your busy schedule to visit us.”
    The roof over the living room was dotted with colored glass tiles which painted the floor and walls with a kaleidoscope of light. Cerise’s husband, Paul, was there, and their children, Rachel and Naomi. Cerise brought a tray of vegetables and walnut dip from the kitchen and set it down on the coffee table. “So, Hector,” she said, “What’s new with you?”
    “Oh nothing much,” he lied, “working hard, as usual.”
    Cerise shook her head. “Working, that’s all? There aren’t any nice middle aged ladies at GeneSys to go to the movies with, or take out to dinner?”
    Hector shrugged, “I suppose there are, but-”
    “But what? What does a woman have to do to get your attention? Split an atom?”
    “Cerise-” Paul gave her a warning glance. “And she wonders why you hardly ever visit,” he said to Hector. “Would you like a whiskey?”
    “Thanks, with soda, please,” he said.
    The girls showed him the holo pictures they’d been painting, and Cerise told him of the latest happenings at her job at Detroit Edison. “There’s a very nice woman in the finance department. She’s about your age, Hector, and she’s single too. Her name is Ilene, and she’s always reading Scientific American. I’m sure you two would hit it off. If you’d like me to set something