Tuf Voyaging

by George R.R. Martin

Moreover, you are undoubtedly a clone produced from the genetic record contained within a fossil. Therefore, it might be argued that I have a superior claim to life, on the grounds that you are extinct and ought properly to remain so. Begone!’ The tyrannosaur’s reply was a furious squirming lunge and a wet bellow that sprayed Tuf with fine droplets of dinosaur saliva. The tail came down once more.

Haviland Tuf looked down at the kitten in his lap. ‘Let this be your first lesson in the hard ways of the universe,’ he said loudly. ‘What matters fairness, when one party has a gun and one does not? Brute violence rules everywhere, and intelligence and good intent are trampled upon.’

‘I feel obliged to point out,’ Tuf repeated, ‘that a rather large carnivorous dinosaur has appeared in the corridor behind you, and is presently attempting to sneak up on us. He is not doing a very good job of it.’ The tyrannosaur roared.

The three Guardians conferred hurriedly with each other and with a person or persons offscreen, while Haviland Tuf sat back and toyed with the kitten. ‘I shall name you Suspicion,’ he said to it, ‘to commemorate my reception here. Your siblings shall be Doubt, Hostility, Ingratitude and Foolishness.’

‘It’s only a little cat, right? What’s that called, a catling?’

And you and I have become the stuff of legends, Tuf, the most celebrated lovers since, oh, puling hell, since all those famous romantic couples from ancient times – you know, Romeo and Juliet, Samson and Delilah, Sodom and Gomorrah, Marx and Lenin.’