Van’s eyes grew round. “But how do they eat?”
“They don’t. Can you guess how they survive so long?”
“Do they eat enough as young to survive a long time on nothing?”
“That’s half the answer. The pika palu suck in enough food when they’re young to survive for the rest of their lives. But it’s what they eat that’s really amazing—the chloroplasts of bulika algae.” He went on to explain that unlike birds and beasts, plants, seaweeds, and algae led very different lives, obtaining the nutrients they needed from sunlight. “It’s the chloroplasts that do this and that make leaves look green.”
Van gaped at him. “You mean the algae those sea slugs eat when they’re young makes it possible for them to produce their own food from sunlight as adults? I had no idea such an odd creature even existed.”
Hohsalle grinned. “Yeah. Pretty weird, huh? They’re sea slugs, but they’re also plants, in a way. But the real surprise is yet to come.” His face sobered. “As soon as they lay their eggs, pika palu get sick and die. Every single one of them, no exceptions. My grandfather, Limuelle, has spent years studying them to find out why, but he still hasn’t been able to explain it completely. However, he does have one hypothesis. He thinks that when they’re still young, pika palu must ingest some kind of disease along with the bulika.”
Hohsalle pressed a finger against his lips. “Mature pika palu don’t have mouths, so they can’t possibly consume anything that carries a disease agent. Perhaps they could inhale some through bodies, but if that were the case, they ought to die of various illnesses because they live in different environments. But they don’t. They all die of the exact same disease during the exact same stage of their lives. This suggests that the disease agents that kill them are attached to the algae chloroplasts they eat when they’re young. Understand?”
Van nodded. “But why would they eat something that would kill them? Even if the disease agents remain dormant for a while, won’t they go extinct if the slugs all get sick in the end?”
Hohsalle shook his head. “That’s just it. The disease doesn’t wipe them out.”
“Why?”
“Because it doesn’t emerge until they’ve laid their eggs. As soon as they’ve passed on their life to the next generation, they die. Every last one of them.”
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling fire.
“There are other creatures like this, too. Take the salmon that find their way back from the sea to spawn. They climb the river to the place they were born. The females lay their eggs, and the males fertilize them. Once they’ve given birth to new life, they perish almost immediately, as if their job has been completed.”
Hohsalle gazed at Van. “Then there are some creatures that seem almost immortal. They’ll go on dividing indefinitely. As long as nothing interferes, they can keep reproducing forever. But creatures that require a male and female to procreate die once they’ve given birth to the next generation. They might survive until their offspring can take care of themselves, but ultimately, they will grow old and die. They step aside to make way for new life, just as trees shed their leaves in autumn to make way for the buds in spring. The bodies of such creatures are designed from the time of birth to live and die as well.”
The pale white light of morning was beginning to penetrate the curtains.
Sae spoke up in a low voice. “So, in a way, having children makes us immortal. To leave no offspring is to cut the thread of life that has been passed down for generations.”
Milalle caught the other woman’s eyes with her own. “No, that’s not true.” A soft smile rose to her lips. “I don’t know if I’ll ever have children. Maybe that’s what makes me feel so strongly about this. But I’m sure you’ve got that wrong, Sae.
“Regardless of what our ancestors left us, there are far too many people living in this world for the chain of life to break just because some people can’t give birth.”
Sae’s face was pale, but she forced herself to speak. “Even so, they’ll break the chain their parents passed on to them.”
Milalle’s gaze was firm. “You mean facial features? Things like that?”
“That, too, but—”
“Sae, listen.” Milalle leaned forward. “Each of us is unique. Yes, we carry over some traits from our ancestors. However, no two people are exactly the same. Each life born into this world has never existed here before and never will again. Each creature has its own distinct personality.”
Sae frowned, and Milalle pressed on, speaking slowly and deliberately. “The bacteria in our intestines are an example of those creatures Hohsalle was talking about that could probably go on living forever if conditions permitted—dividing and multiplying endlessly. They’re sexless. No male and female coupling is required for them to make new life.
“But creatures that reproduce through the pairing of a male and female live just once and then die. The young born through this process aren’t replicas of their mothers or fathers; they’re totally new beings. Children don’t look exactly like their parents, do they? They don’t get one side of their face from their mothers and the other from their fathers. Even twins aren’t completely identical. Everything born into this world has its own personality and lives its unique existence.
“Although people do inherit traits from both parents, the possible combinations of these are infinite. That’s why you’ll never find two people in this world who are exactly alike. No individual has ever been, nor ever will be, born twice.”
She smiled. “As I said, we are all unique. This body, this face, this mind—they appear here just once and then are gone forever.”
Sae gazed at her silently. Ignoring her expression, Milalle said gently, “I was born into this world, I’ll live the life that is mine alone, and I’ll die. As Hohsalle said, we’re designed to die from the very beginning. Although I’m not sure what death means for the mind, I can’t help thinking that it’s not the end for the body.”
Milalle cocked an eyebrow. “Remember Hohsalle claimed that the body is like a country? It really is. The human body looks like a single entity, but, in fact, it’s filled with an astounding number of tiny little creatures. Through living, they help us live. When our bodies get sick, or grow old and die, they go on living, returning to the earth or becoming parts of other creatures. In that sense, for the body, death is really nothing more than change. The integrated whole simply disintegrates.”
Van took a long, deep breath. Milalle’s description matched what he experienced when inside out—that indescribable state without loneliness or regret, just the pale horizon extending endlessly into the distance.
Even so… The small figure named Van who stood on that horizon would surely grieve his own death when he passed.
“If a country perishes,” he muttered, “its people carry on, absorbed into another nation. Still, it’s a sad thing to see one’s homeland, or one’s own self, which exists just once, vanish forever.”
“You’re right on that one,” Hohsalle said with a crooked grin. “Why do you think I became a doctor? Even if I cure them, my patients are doomed to die. Yet if someone gets sick, I still try to heal them.”
For some time, Van had been aware of footsteps in the distance. People on the floor below were already up and about. Dawn had broken, and the light of the fire had paled.
“You said you wanted to take my blood.”
Hohsalle nodded. “That’s right.”
Van smiled. “Then please go ahead. What you’ve given me is worth far more.” To his surprise, disappointment crossed Hohsalle’s face. It reminded Van of his son. He’d looked just like that when Van had to leave. “People are moving downstairs,” Van said. “I should be leaving soon.”
Hohsalle’s eyebrows arched with surprise. “You can hear them even from here?”
“Yes.”
Hohsalle sighed, his expression forlorn. “Look,” he said hesitantly. “Maybe I’m asking too much, but I’d like to meet again. Besides, we might not succeed in making the medicine with the blood you give us this time. It would really help if you’d drop into our clinic in Kazan sometime soon. I’ll guarantee your safety.”
Milalle glanced at Sae and then looked at Van. Leaning forward, she said, “Please. We don’t know what the disease will do going forward, and we want to save as many lives as possible. Please help us.”
Sae and Van exchanged a look. There were subtle and complex differences in the social statuses of all four gathered in that room. Hohsalle and Milalle’s request came with many risks. Still, Van’s heart was moved.
“I’ll come,” he said. “I can’t promise when. But I’ll come.”