Acolytes (The Enclaves Book 1)

by Nel Franks

  ‘It’s not the male’s pleasure I’m embarrassed about, Tomma. It’s the people who do it. Don’t they feel embarrassed about handling an animal right at that moment? I can’t imagine doing such a thing.’

  ‘Well, I think you get accustomed. I mean, when you start work in Agriculture with the big animals, you find out very quickly that’s how it’s done. People go and watch from their early days, so I think they get used to it. It’s the only way we can get one or two really good bulls to impregnate a whole herd of cows. They’d get too exhausted trying to mate with all of them one after the other.’ She flopped back onto her bed with her hand against her forehead, and moo-ed in a deep voice, ‘Oh, no! Please, I can’t manage another cow. Just let that nice stablehand play with me.’

  I couldn’t help smiling. But what she had said had sparked an idea. Perhaps men could handle themselves until they produced sperm and it could be collected somehow? I didn’t know anything about whether or how men did such a thing. I couldn’t think of anyone I could ask about such a very improper matter. Besides, how would any of the women in the Enclave know what men did with themselves?

  As I was pondering these ideas, the door pushed open and Gaia came in, wearing her forester’s trousers and shirt, and a woollen hat, and looking very tired.

  ‘Gaia!’ Tomma jumped up from her bed, grinning with delight, and hugged her. ‘I didn’t know you were due back today. How lovely you’re home!’ She pushed back from Gaia and looked at her closely. ‘Goddess, you’ve got thin, and strong!’ she said, squeezing Gaia’s muscled arm.

  Gaia managed a limp smile and dropped her bag beside her bed.

  ‘It’s tough work in the forest. Trees weigh a lot. Ah, Rosie, you’re here. It’s lovely to see you.’

  I felt very awkward, reminded again of how poorly I had behaved when I had left.

  ‘Um, I’m very glad to be back, too, Gaia. I ... I... I’m really sorry for the way I behaved,’ I pushed out, blushing deeply.

  ‘Oh, Rosie,’ she said with a deep sigh, and gathered me into a hug. ‘We’re just glad you’re feeling better. Are you here to stay?’

  I was so choked up I couldn’t speak. I nodded instead and gestured towards my bed, covered with clothes. Gaia stripped off the layers of clothes she was wearing and sat down on her bed in her long undershirt. I could see every muscle in her arms as she reached up and slowly dragged off her forester’s cap. She closed her eyes and began to fall sideways onto her pillow when Tomma yelped.

  ‘Gaia! What have you done to your hair?’

  I was dumbfounded. Gaia’s long black shining curls had been replaced with a very short cut, slightly longer in front.

  ‘Oh,’ said Gaia, struggling back up to sitting. ‘I forgot you hadn’t seen that yet. I cut it while we were away in the forest. My hair kept getting in the way and getting sawdust and leaves caught in it. I had to wear a cap all the time, and it was too hot when we were working. So, I cut it.’

  ‘But it doesn’t look like you!’ I felt like crying. I hated it when things changed that I hadn’t known were going to. ‘I loved your long hair. Now you look like a boy!’

  Gaia gave a slow tired smile as she lay back on her bed, closing her eyes.

  ‘Just wake me up in a week,’ she groaned, flopping her arm over her face, and within a minute she was sound asleep.

  OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, I spent a lot of time in the Healer’s library, finding out as much as I could about conception. I always kept some other kind of document with me to cover what I was reading; in case anyone came too close. I couldn’t bear the idea that someone would see that I was looking at pictures of men’s genitalia. In my reading, it became clear that a man’s penis (the word still made me blush, even sitting alone reading it) was just a mechanism to deliver the sperm as close to the cervix as possible. Would it be possible to create an artificial penis that could be inserted high into the vagina and squirt sperm in somehow? I began to draw sketches of objects that could perform this function. I was trying to work out the squirting mechanism one day, when suddenly a pair of hands slid over my eyes. I jumped and squealed as a deep voice said, ‘Guess who!’

  I grabbed the wrists and pulled the hands away from my eyes, as Tomma laughed and moved around to sit beside me. ‘Goddess, you jumped, Rosie. What are you feeling so guilty about?’

  I moved quickly to cover up the drawings, pulling a textbook about factors affecting conception over the top. She leaned over and looked at it

  ‘What affects implantation?’ she asked, reading over my shoulder.

  ‘It’s part of the conception work I’ve been doing,’ I said. ‘We’re trying to work out how come so many babies are born defective and therefore need to be Sacrificed. Nobody likes that to happen, but it is necessary, of course.’ Tomma looked sad. I rushed on before she could start her usual rant about how awful it was for the mothers. ‘It’s not just a religious issue. Most people think it’s a punishment from the Goddess for some sin or other. But the researchers are wondering if disabilities are caused by the men’s sperm, or the processes of conception and implantation, or foetal development during pregnancy.’

  ‘I suppose it could be the woman’s egg that might be damaged,’ Tomma said.

  I shook my head. That was so improbable, in my view. It was much more likely to be the man’s fault.

  ‘And is there a high rate of disabled babies?’ she went on. ‘I’ve always known there are some, but I didn’t know it was high.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ I said, leaning on the textbook and turning the page to the statistics. ‘According to this, the rate of disability in the Time Before was much lower.’

  ‘Why should it be so much greater now?’ Tomma looked like she was settling in for a long talk, and I felt very anxious about her discovering my sperm-delivery drawings under the book we were discussing.

  ‘The book says something about inbreeding, but we don’t really know. And there’s no way to work that out here.’ I leaned back, trying to be as offhand as possible, hoping she would lose interest and leave.

  ‘Really?’ Tomma said, picking up the book. Her eyes fell on my diagram.

  ‘What are you drawing pictures of poultry basters for, Rosie? Sometimes I have no idea what is going on in your mind.’ She turned the picture around to study it from several angles while I tried to grab it from her.

  ‘Poultry baster?’

  ‘That’s what it looks like to me. What do you want one of these for?’

  ‘Really? Is this what a poultry baster looks like? I’ve never seen one.’

  ‘Well, it’s not quite the same. The plunger mechanism is a bit different from what you’ve drawn but it’s basically the same. Why are you drawing one?’

  I ignored her question. ‘How big are they Tomma? How do you know about them?’

  She gave a quick frown. ‘From when I was working in the Kitchens last year, have you forgotten? And they’re about this big’, she held her hands apart, ‘and about this big around’ she said, making a circle of her thumb and forefinger. That seemed enormous to me.

  ‘How big is a man’s thingy supposed to be?’ I wondered.

  ‘What did you say?’

  I suddenly realised I had spoken out loud. ‘Oh, um, well ...’ I couldn’t think of any way to explain the link between poultry basters and penises.

  Tomma looked at the books I had open, with their illustrations of how impregnation occurred. ‘Why are you drawing poultry basters, looking at pictures of sexual intercourse, and wondering about the size of penises?’ she said slowly. I could see comprehension dawning in her eyes.

  Suddenly I wanted to tell her about my ideas. They had been fermenting in my head for so long I wanted to tell someone. Tomma knew about my concerns and maybe she would hear me out.

  ‘I’ve been trying to work out a way for women to get pregnant without having to lie with a man,’ I confessed.

  Her face clouded with concern. ‘Oh, Rosie, you’re not still going on about that, are you? I thoug
ht you’d given up on that idea. When you came back to our room you seemed so much better, I thought you’d stopped worrying about it.’

  ‘Well, it’s important to me, Tomma.’ I could feel the heat flushing my face and I started to gather up my papers and books. ‘Just forget I said anything.’

  ‘No, no’, she said with reluctant encouragement. ‘If it’s important to you, Rosie, tell me about it. I promise I’ll listen.’

  I didn’t know whether to speak or not, but she took the drawing of the poultry baster out of the pile and said, ‘What are you going to do with this, then?’

  I took it back from her and said a bit sulkily, ‘I was trying to design a way to get the sperm up into the vagina so conception could occur, without having sexual intercourse.’

  She looked thoughtful. ‘They use a little tube for cows, but they push it right through the cervix, so nothing leaks out. I suppose you could use something similar to a penis for women, so it would deliver the sperm and block any from leaking out. But why would anyone tolerate something like that pushed up inside them? I wouldn’t want it.’

  ‘Because for some of us, the idea of lying with a man, and having him put his penis inside me, and beating me with it, is just too terrif ... disgusting!’

  ‘Oh, Rosie, does it still bother you so much?’

  ‘Yes, it does. It’s not as bad as it used to be, now I’m working in the Birthers, I see that for most women it’s not an issue. Maybe it’s not as revolting for them as it seems to me, but I want to be able to have babies, and I don’t want to have to lie with a man. I was trying to work out how to make it happen.’

  She shook her head, looking slightly amazed. ‘Well, I’m impressed by your determination. How is your research coming along?’

  ‘Well, if the poultry baster thing would work, then the other main problem I’ve got is how to get the sperm out of the man and collected in such a way that you can get it into the baster and into the woman.’

  ‘It is a bit of a difficult question, isn’t it?’ she mused. ‘There aren’t any men around here you can just ask about how they produce sperm.’ Her voice trailed off, and she stared unfocussed at the drawing.

  ‘What? What did you just think of, Tomma?’ Her expressions were always so transparent.

  ‘Well, I do know one man, or a boy our age really, who would know. But I can’t imagine asking him. I mean, how would you begin? ‘Excuse me, but how do you produce sperm?’’ She grimaced in disbelief.

  ‘Well, I would ask, if I knew a boy. Is this the boy you met at the Fair last year? Is he the one you’ve been infatuated with?’

  She turned her face away a little. She’s been a filthy ... I squeezed my ears shut and concentrated on watching Tomma.

  ‘It’s not an infatuation. I love him. We’ve been talking all year, just as friends at first. But now ... it’s more,’ she ended defiantly.

  ‘Have you been meeting him?’

  She was silent so long I thought she wouldn’t tell me. Then she sighed and said, ‘You knew I was meeting him, Rosie. I told you that day when Gaia told us about the bird Ellina made her.’

  ‘Well, yes, I remember that. But I thought you were only going to meet him once. I didn’t realise you’ve been going on meeting him regularly behind my back!’

  Ooooh, she’s a sneaky evil cow!

  Mentally I screamed at my inner self, Shut up! Shut up!

  She looked at me as though I was being unreasonable. ‘Rosie, I’m not going behind your back! Don’t let this turn into a fight again; we’ve only just got back to speaking to each other. I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing, but I don’t need your approval.’

  Feeling very begrudging, I nodded for her to go on.

  ‘I meet him at the Gate—we can’t even see each other! And all we do is talk. I’ve only ever seen him at Festival that first time because he didn’t get a ticket to come last year, or I’ve seen him at a distance over the Wall. But I know how strongly I feel about him, and he feels the same way about me.’

  I stared at her, amazed. How much more than me must she know about men from her relationship with this boy? I had a moment of inspiration – I could talk to him too and find out everything I needed to know.

  ‘What’s his name, Tomma? Who else knows about him? Does Gaia know?’

  ‘Remember I told you? When we were fighting. He’s called Rove.’ She smiled as she said his name. ‘And yes, Gaia knows. She used to come down to the Gate sometimes and talk with him too. She likes him. She said she thinks he’s a really kind boy, or man, or young man, or whatever stage he’s at.’ She finished looking flushed with both pride and stumbling awkwardness.

  ‘Can I come down and meet him too? Would he talk to me as well?’ I couldn’t wait to progress my research further by having a male subject.

  ‘Um, I suppose you could, Rosie.’ She frowned and drew back a little. ‘But you thought it was terrible that I was seeing a boy, and I’m not even sure it’s allowed. And now you want to meet him. Are you sure you want to get involved?’

  ‘Yes, I want to question him. I want to find out more about men, and I can’t think of any other way of meeting one I can talk to. At least I don’t have to look him in the eye when I ask him, and he can’t see me or touch me.’

  Tomma still looked uncomfortable. ‘You talk about him as though he’s a dangerous criminal or something, Rosie. Why do you want to talk to him? Is it about this idea of yours?’ She was starting to sound rather accusing.

  ‘It’s just that I’m working out all these ideas about men and I don’t know anything about them, so it would be a good opportunity to study one and see what they think about women. Eventually, when we know each other better, I could ask him what he thinks about sexual intercourse and impregnation.’

  ‘Goddess, Rosie! Even I don’t discuss that! I can’t imagine how he might react to questions like that from someone he doesn’t know. It would be so awkward!’ She squirmed in her seat.

  ‘Well, I don’t mind. I want to find out. I’d be tactful, Tomma, you know how careful I can be. I wouldn’t ask until we knew each other much better. I really want the opportunity to get to know one and see what they think. Can I come with you? Please?’

  She looked away and frowned. ‘I don’t know Rosie. I don’t feel good about it.’

  I couldn’t see why she was being so reluctant; couldn’t she see how important this was? Then I thought of the masterstroke that would convince her.

  ‘Well, why don’t you ask him, next time you see him, if he would like to meet another of your friends? Let him make the choice.’

  She got up, nodding a little reluctantly.

  ‘Alright, I’ll ask him. But I’m not promising anything. He might not want to talk to you about ...’ she waved her hands at my stack of books and papers, ‘... any of this.’

  She left, still frowning, and I went back to my books, wondering how I could get hold of a poultry baster.

  ABOUT A WEEK LATER, Tomma said I could come with her to meet the boy Rove. She seemed a little bit uncomfortable about it, but apparently he was willing, so she was prepared to go along with it. ‘And Rosie, don’t ask him about sperm, alright?’ she said as we were walking over the hills.

  ‘I won’t, not until I know him better and think it’s the right time,’ I promised.

  It was a bit unusual being introduced to someone I couldn’t see. We settled down into the Gate embrasure and made somewhat stilted conversation for a while. I decided to ask about animal breeding, that being a good way of approaching my topic. We talked about breeding up good lines and keeping records of which rams had tupped which ewes, and about artificial insemination. Rove talked about how his father and some other sheep graziers had clubbed together to buy some ram semen from another highly regarded breeder. He was excitedly detailing how the new influx of this breeding line would improve their herd and their wool and carcass yields. It was so boring I had to interrupt him.

  ‘How do you collect the ... stuff?’ I as
ked.

  ‘The carcasses, do you mean?

  I was glad we had the Gate between us, as I blushed so hotly, I must have been bright red.

  ‘No, I mean for the artificial insemination. How do you collect the ... the stuff?’

  He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Oh, that stuff! Why on earth would you want to know about that, Rosie?’

  Tomma was shaking her head at me, drawing her finger across her throat menacingly. I made soothing gestures at her as I replied. ‘Oh, as part of my studies with the Birthers, I’m learning about conception, so this just sounds really interesting.’

  ‘Well,’ Rove sounded a little uncomfortable. ‘We try to make it as much like normal as possible. An ewe that’s ready to conceive is brought into the shed with the ram, and we have a warm collection tube, and just as he jumps on the ewe, the worker slips the collection tube over his member, and he doesn’t notice the difference because the handler is squeezing it gently, so he pumps away as usual, and when he ejaculates, it goes into the collection tube instead of the ewe. And then very quickly, we divide up the fluid into each farmer’s lot, and then we put it into our ewes straight away. We don’t always get a lot of lambs, but the one’s we do get are very good.’

  ‘Someone has to be there while they are doing it, and actually handle the ram’s ...?’ I couldn’t say the word to him.

  ‘Yes, there are breeders who are very good at it now; they do it all the time with their prize rams.’

  ‘Is it the same for men?’ I blurted out without thinking.

  Tomma squawked, grabbing me as she jumped up.

  ‘Rosie! You promised!’ she hissed, dragging me away from the Gate. ‘We’ve got to go now!’ she called to Rove, hauling me away up the road.

  ‘You promised!’ she screeched at me in a whisper. ‘How could you do that? You’ve ruined everything, Rosie! What if he doesn’t talk to me again? I hate you!’

  Bursting into tears, she pushed me away and ran back to the Gate, calling Rove’s name. It didn’t seem like such a big thing to me, although I was a little worried that perhaps I had scared off my only male subject. Tomma was over-reacting; it was not like she could actually love a disgusting man. I could see Tomma was very delicate about the subject, and I would have to wait for a more opportune time to ask the questions I really wanted to know.