"When I was a child," she says in a voice which tells him she thinks of childhood as a thousand years ago at least. "I was going to marry you."
"Everyone says that about their brothers and sisters when they're young," he answers. He's been thinking about marriage a lot, lately, especially since his parents' managed to weather Father's exposed infidelity. He knows that grandchildren are wanted, which will mean either a partner with no immediate aspirations of their own or else a string of nannies. Neither idea particularly appeals to Simon; he suspects that he'd actually quite like to do some of the caring-for himself.
Perhaps he'll wait until he's old, as old as Father, when his hands aren't quite quick enough to knot and plait the thread of other people's lives anymore. That might be nice, to grow ancient with little children all around him.
"Come back, Simon, you're not listening," River complains, jabbing him in the small of the back with the toe of her shoe. "I said, I used to wish I was a boy. So I could be a soldier."
"What changed your mind?"
"Your anatomy books. Your gender is ridiculous."
"Nothing about the human body is ridiculous."
"Incorrect. The epiglottis, the phalanges, and the perineum are all utterly ridiculous."
He can hear the laugh in her voice. The storm is passed, then.
"We should have named you Chow. Your moods are as quick as summer shifts. And anyway, you're just choosing those parts because you think the words are silly."
"I think we'd agreed on 'ridiculous' as the term being bandied, actually. When you have babies, I'm going to knit them hats. Green for girls, yellow for boys. Will your wife be as pretty as me?"
She may be the intuitive one, but he's hardly stupid. He smiles, knowing she'll guess his expression from the set of his shoulders, and says "No, River, there's nobody as pretty as you."
She giggles, and jabs him again. "Flatterer. Do you think I can have babies and still be a Companion?"
Simon sighs. "Not that again. You're only eleven. You don't have to choose anything yet."
"You've always known what you're going to be. You probably chose before you were born, Simon. The equiment monitoring your gestation probably caught your fetal eye."
"My 'fetal eye'? You are so not allowed to go on cortex meet-boards without supervision in future."
"I have to do something with my time. You're always studying. I don't know why. Can't you just remember it all in the first place?"
"Okay, now you're just gloating," he says, and smiles at the sound of her laugh.
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"Everyone says that about their brothers and sisters when they're young," he answers. He's been thinking about marriage a lot, lately, especially since his parents' managed to weather Father's exposed infidelity. He knows that grandchildren are wanted, which will mean either a partner with no immediate aspirations of their own or else a string of nannies. Neither idea particularly appeals to Simon; he suspects that he'd actually quite like to do some of the caring-for himself.
Perhaps he'll wait until he's old, as old as Father, when his hands aren't quite quick enough to knot and plait the thread of other people's lives anymore. That might be nice, to grow ancient with little children all around him.
"Come back, Simon, you're not listening," River complains, jabbing him in the small of the back with the toe of her shoe. "I said, I used to wish I was a boy. So I could be a soldier."
"What changed your mind?"
"Your anatomy books. Your gender is ridiculous."
"Nothing about the human body is ridiculous."
"Incorrect. The epiglottis, the phalanges, and the perineum are all utterly ridiculous."
He can hear the laugh in her voice. The storm is passed, then.
"We should have named you Chow. Your moods are as quick as summer shifts. And anyway, you're just choosing those parts because you think the words are silly."
"I think we'd agreed on 'ridiculous' as the term being bandied, actually. When you have babies, I'm going to knit them hats. Green for girls, yellow for boys. Will your wife be as pretty as me?"
She may be the intuitive one, but he's hardly stupid. He smiles, knowing she'll guess his expression from the set of his shoulders, and says "No, River, there's nobody as pretty as you."
She giggles, and jabs him again. "Flatterer. Do you think I can have babies and still be a Companion?"
Simon sighs. "Not that again. You're only eleven. You don't have to choose anything yet."
"You've always known what you're going to be. You probably chose before you were born, Simon. The equiment monitoring your gestation probably caught your fetal eye."
"My 'fetal eye'? You are so not allowed to go on cortex meet-boards without supervision in future."
"I have to do something with my time. You're always studying. I don't know why. Can't you just remember it all in the first place?"
"Okay, now you're just gloating," he says, and smiles at the sound of her laugh.