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"They made a stupid mistake when they created a new science to study the piggies. They were a bunch of tired old anthropologists who put on new hats and called themselves xenologers. But you can't understand the piggies just by watching the way they behave! They came out of a different evolution! You have to understand their genes, what's going on inside their cells. And the other animals' cells, too, because they can't be studied by themselves, nothing lives in isolation--"
Don't lecture me, thought Pipo. Tell me what you feel. And to provoke her to be more emotional, he whispered, "Except you."
It worked. From cold and contemptuous she became hot and defensive. "You'll never understand them! But I will!"
"Why do you care about them? What are the piggies to you?"
"You'd never understand. You're a good Catholic." She said the word with contempt. "It's a book that's on the Index."
Pipo's face glowed with sudden understanding. "The Hive Queen and the Hegemon."
"He lived three thousand years ago, whoever he was, the one who called himself the Speaker for the Dead. But he understood the buggers! We wiped them all out, the only other alien race we ever knew, we killed them all, but he understood."
"And you want to write the story of the pequeninos the way the original Speaker wrote of the buggers."
"The way you say it, you make it sound as easy as doing a scholarly paper. You don't know what it was like to write the Hive Queen and the Hegemon. How much agony it was for him to--to imagine himself inside an alien mind--and come out of it filled with love for the great creature we destroyed. He lived at the same time as the worst human being who ever lived, Ender the Xenocide, who destroyed the buggers--and he did his best to undo what Ender did, the Speaker for the Dead tried to raise the dead--"
"But he couldn't."
"But he did! He made them live again--you'd know it if you had read the book! I don't know about Jesus, I listen to Bishop Peregrino and I don't think there's any power in their priesthood to turn wafers into flesh or forgive a milligram of guilt. But the Speaker for the Dead brought the hive queen back to life."
"Then where is she?"
"In here! In me!"
He nodded. "And someone else is in you. The Speaker for the Dead. That's who you want to be."
"It's the only true story I ever heard," she said. "The only one I care about. Is that what you wanted to hear? That I'm a heretic? And my whole life's work is going to be adding another book to the Index of truths that good Catholics are forbidden to read."
"What I wanted to hear," said Pipo softly, "was the name of what you are instead of the name of all the things that you are not. What you are is the hive queen. What you are is the Speaker for the Dead. It's a very small community, small in numbers, but a great-hearted one. So you chose not to be part of the bands of children who group together for the sole purpose of excluding others, and people look at you and say, poor girl, she's so isolated, but you know a secret, you know who you really are. You are the one human being who is capable of understanding the alien mind, because you are the alien mind; you know what it is to be unhuman because there's never been any human group that gave you credentials as a bona fide homo sapiens."
"Now you say I'm not even human? You made me cry like a little girl because you wouldn't let me take the test, you made me humiliate myself, and now you say I'm unhuman?"
"You can take the test."
The words hung in the air.
"When?" she whispered.
"Tonight. Tomorrow. Begin when you like. I'll stop my work to take you through the tests as quickly as you like."
"Thank you! Thank you, I--"
"Become the Speaker for the Dead. I'll help you all I can. The law forbids me to take anyone but my apprentice, my son Libo, out to meet the pequeninos. But we'll open our notes to you. Everything we learn, we'll show you. All our guesses and speculation. In return, you also show us all your work, what you find out about the genetic patterns of this world that might help us understand the pequeninos. And when we've learned enough, together, you can write your book, you can become the Speaker. But this time not the Speaker for the Dead. The pequeninos aren't dead."
In spite of herself, she smiled. "The Speaker for the Living."
"I've read the Hive Queen and the Hegemon, too," he said. "I can't think of a better place for you to find your name."
But she did not trust him yet, did not believe what he seemed to be promising. "I'll want to come here often. All the time."
"We lock it up when we go home to bed."
"But all the rest of the time. You'll get tired of me. You'll tell me to go away. You'll keep secrets from me. You'll tell me to be quiet and not mention my ideas."
"We've only just become friends, and already you think I'm such a liar and cheat, such an impatient oaf."
"But you will, everyone does; they all wish I'd go away--"
