Shadow Puppets by Orson Scott Card Page A

arms wide. “Take a good look. I’m it.”
    And then he was gone.
    Petra reached out and took Bean’s hand again.
    “Satisfied?” asked Bean.
    “More or less,” said Petra. “At least you did something .”
    “I’ve been doing something all along.”
    “I know,” said Petra.
    “In fact,” said Bean, “you’re the one who just goes online to shop.”
    She chuckled. “Here we are in this beautiful park. Where they keep alive the memory of a great man. A man who gave unforgettable music to the world. What will your memorial be?”
    “Maybe two statues. Before and after. Little Bean who fought in Ender’s jeesh. Big Julian who brought down Achilles.”
    “I like that,” said Petra. “But I have a better idea.”
    “Name a colony planet after me?”
    “How about this—they have a whole planet populated by your descendants.”
    Bean’s expression soured and he shook his head. “Why? To make war against them? A race of brilliant people who breed as fast as they can because they’re going to die before they’re twenty. And every oneof them curses the name of their ancestor because he didn’t end this travesty with his own death.”
    “It’s not a travesty,” said Petra. “And what makes you think your…difference will breed true?”
    “You’re right,” said Bean, “if I marry a long-lived stupid short girl like you, my progeny should average out to a bunch of average minds who live to be seventy and grow to be six feet tall.”
    “Do you want to know what I’ve been doing?” said Petra.
    “Not shopping.”
    “I’ve been talking to Sister Carlotta.”
    He stiffened, looked away from her.
    “I’ve been walking down the paths of her life,” said Petra. “Talking to people she knew. Seeing what she saw. Learning what she learned.”
    “I don’t want to know,” said Bean.
    “Why not? She loved you. Once she found you, she lived for you.”
    “I know that,” said Bean. “And she died for me. Because I was stupid and careless. I didn’t even need her to come, I just thought I did for a little while and by the time I found out I didn’t, she was already in the air, already heading for the missile that killed her.”
    “There’s somewhere I want us to go,” said Petra. “While we’re waiting for Ambul to pull off his miracle.”
    “Listen,” said Bean, “Sister Carlotta already told me how to get in touch with the scientists who were studying me. Every now and then I write to them and they tell me how soon they estimate my death will come and how exciting it is, all the progress they’re making in understanding human development and all kinds of other kuso because of my body and all the little cultures they’ve got, keeping my tissues alive. Petra, when you think about it, I’m immortal. Those tissues will be alive in labs all over the world for a thousand years after I’m dead. That’s one of the benefits of being completely weird.”
    “I’m not talking about them,” said Petra.
    “What, then? Where do you want to go?”
    “Anton,” she said. “The one who found the key, Anton’s Key. The genetic change that resulted in you.”
    “He’s still alive?”
    “He’s not only alive, he’s free. War’s over. Not that he’s able to do serious research now. The psychological blocks aren’t really removable. He has a hard time talking about…well, at least writing about what happened to you.”
    “So why bother him?”
    “Got anything better to do?”
    “I’ve always got something better to do than go to Romania.”
    “But he doesn’t live there,” said Petra. “He’s in Catalunya.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “Sister Carlotta’s homeland. The town of Mataró.”
    “Why did he go there?” asked Bean.
    “Excellent weather,” said Petra. “Nights on the rambla. Tapas with friends. The gentle sea lapping the shore. The hot African wind. The breakers of the winter sea. The memory of Columbus coming to visit the king of Aragon.”
    “That was