Kathy was lying in her bed when she received the memento from Julie.  She had
been saddened to learn of the woman's death.  Since that time so many years ago,
she had seen the woman only once, and that was only a few months earlier. At the
time the woman who had kept the house had not looked well.  Kathy had visited her
with Susan shortly after learning Susan had been accepted at Yale. Julie had
commented again on how beautiful the two girls looked, but now she was dead. 
Kathy had learned that she was the beneficiary of Julie's estate and was amazed
to find it was worth over $2 million, all in negotiable securities and
certificates of deposit.  In addition, there was a memento. She opened the
package and found a lovely little music box.  She opened the lid and heard it
play a strange but lovely tune -- a tune she had never heard before.

Then something truly remarkable happened.  She watched in astonishment as her
fingers appeared to take on a life of their own.  With no apparent guidance from
her brain, her fingers moved across and around the little box as if it were a
child's puzzle.  She was pushing, pulling, and turning at different points on the
box.  Suddenly, it was in two pieces.  Inside it she found a small metal
container shaped like a cigarette case, but smaller in all its dimensions. 
Without stopping to look at the case closely, her fingers began to move again. 
Although it was absolutely plain, her fingers pushed and pulled and probed at
apparently known locations.  Suddenly, the container popped open like a clam. 
Inside was a carefully folded sheaf of papers. Kathy unfolded them, realizing
they had a different feel from anything she had ever touched before.

She smoothed them out.  It was a letter to her!  She began to read:

My darling Kathy,

Your mother and I are delighted you have received this.  If any person ever reads
this letter, dear Kathy, it must be you.  Our scientists have programmed your
brain to react to the music the little box plays.  I have watched them rehearsing
our little girl and watched your fingers fly through the puzzle. They tell me the
knowledge you have is permanently embedded in your brain.

We are both happy and sad.  We look at you now in a strange state.  The scien
tists call it "suspended animation" but to your mother and me it appears our
golden-haired child is in a coma.  Your mother is in tears.  You are leaving us
forever here and going to a planet its inhabitants call Earth.  Since you are
reading this, it must have succeeded.  Your trip combines things we know, things
we suspect, and frankly, things we hope.

Arrangements have been made for you to be placed in a strange place.  It's
called, we understand, a "whorehouse," a place where men come to take advantage
of the women sexually.  Your mother cried when she learned her darling daughter
would be subjected to such treatment.  I'm sorry, darling. We did it for two
reasons.  First, we have been told people -- and the women in them -- come and go
quickly.  A strange girl is unlikely to be noticed. Second, we believe their
sexual customs are similar to ours, but we can't be sure.  You will learn those
customs quickly.  You may wonder about this strange location we have selected.



There is one more thing: The woman in charge will have her memory somewhat
altered.  If you were to ask her, she would say you were always in the house. It
is with her we are leaving this little music box.  We are told the tune it plays
is unique, and considered to be very melodic.  We want her to keep this safe for
you without knowing what it is.  When you hear the music, you will act.

In this connection, there is a difference between here and Earth.  Women here are
prepared for sex almost instantly.  They secrete a great deal of vaginal fluid
which releases quickly.  The doctors tell us you are unlikely to suffer great
pain from your sexual experiences.  Now you may wonder, "Why Earth?" The reason
is -- and in this we combine hope with some knowledge -- the people of Earth are
near-duplicates of us, genetically.  We believe you will be able to mate and bear
the children of Earth people.  At least we devoutly hope so. But this is a hope,
not a scientifically established fact.  There are only two other things they know
to be different between us and the people of earth. The first is our ability to
combine bio-mechanical analysis with bio-kinetics. Basically, we have the ability
to analyze physical motion, break it down into its bio-mechani cal pieces, and
then replicate exactly what has just been observed.  You may find -- or may have
found -- this ability useful.  The second is an ability that seems to be
concentrated among our women.  It is a phenomenon for which we have no name. 
Basically, it's the ability to make yourself light.  If a man picks you up to
carry you, you can be almost weightless in his arms.  We have found no practical
application for this talent, honestly, but there may be one on Earth.  Your
mother insists I tell you, "Because," she says, "It's fun!"

Now, you wonder, why did we send you on this great voyage when you're so young
and vulnerable?  We face the total destruction of our home.  There is no doubt it
will happen; the only question is when.  I would like to tell you some thing of
your people, but I cannot.  I have been told by our scientists that they have
cleansed your brain -- you will have no memory of your life here.  How ever, they
are afraid of the chance of even a small mention triggering a chain reaction and
causing you to remember your home.  It is a chance they have ordered me not to
take.

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There is one other thing I should tell you.  Although I know you are reading
this, I don't know when it will be.  I should have mentioned this fact before.
The reason I can be so sure you are reading this, dear Kathy, is there is only
one correct way of opening the box and this container.  Any other way of attempt
ing it will result in the paper's destruction.  But I interrupt my narrative. 
The thing I wanted to tell you concerns your ability to have children.  Our physi
cians have implanted in you a long-release birth control device.  It has an
active duration of about ten years.  It is our devout hope that within that time
you will have found your way out of the house where you are being placed and into
a better life.  Clearly, with so many uncertainties, we can have no great
confidence in the full period of its activity.  If you are within the period and
feel you are barren, please don't give up hope. Although you are still very
young, our doctors assure your mother and me you will bear children very easily.

My darling, there are only three final notes.  The first is, in spite of what the
scientists want, I must tell you if you wish to know what your mother looks like,
just look in a mirror.  She is the loveliest woman I have ever seen, and you will
look exactly like her.  The second -- and your mother insists I tell you this --
is the likelihood you will find a mate to whom you will give your whole heart and
soul.

Kathy stopped reading for a moment to dry her eyes.  The tears were running so
much she could no longer read the writing.  'Mom, you sure got that one right,'
she thought, reflecting on her adoration of Ken.  'Darling,' she thought,
'Mother's right!  It *is* my whole heart and soul.'  She dried her eyes on the
bed sheet and went back to the letter, a letter with answers she thought she
would never learn.

...The third is you have a baby sister, Susan.  We hope we will be granted enough
time to send her after you, but we don't know.  Kathy, you are sixteen years old
in Earth time as we send you.  You will remember nothing of your past life.  You
will feel you were always in the house.  We pray that we're granted the time to
send Susan.  We cannot send her before she's about fourteen, and she's only six
now.  If you ever meet her, you will know her.

Finally, darling, the reason for all of this: Our people face extinction.  We
hope you -- and your sister, if we last long enough -- will be able to have
children on Earth.  You carry the very best of our gene pool.  In your children,
you will carry on, at least in a small way, our people.  We have reason to
believe our genes may be dominant.  From what we understand, you will be
considered to be as beautiful where you are going as your mother is considered to
be here.

Darling, we pray for you.  You have all the love your parents can bestow.  We
hope that it may be enough.

This paper will destroy itself in less than thirty minutes.  It could be
analyzed, and we do not wish it to be.

We love you, darling Kathy --

Mom and Dad

Of course Susan was her sister.  Who else could she be?  And she had made it away
from the place in time.  Tears flowed from her eyes, thinking of her parents who
loved her.  Minutes later the paper disappeared before her eyes.

Just then a nurse appeared with a tiny bundle.  "It's feeding time, Mrs. Stark,"
the nurse said, carefully handling her the small bundle.  Kathy held the bundle
in one arm while she opened her pajama top to expose a milk-laden breast.  She
looked at the tiny baby and watched his hands wave.  His eyes had not yet
focused.  When she gently put her nipple in his mouth and watched him feed
hungrily, Kathy found the sensation marvelous as the newborn nursed at her
breast.

"Hello, Darling.  You're a lovely addition to Earth's gene pool," she said
softly.