by Robin Roseau
“No. Why don’t you tell me?”
“I won’t hurt anymore,” she explained. “Unless I have an accident or get sick, I will see not only my grandchildren grow up, but maybe even my great grandchildren. I’ll be able to run again, and dance, and eat spicy food. I used to love spicy food, but now it doesn’t sit with me. Will I be able to do these things, Doctor Serenity?”
“Yes, Yessamartain, you will.”
“And fifty years from now, I’ll sit down at this table, and a nice, pretty doctor will ask me what I want. And a nice pretty nurse will hold my hand. Maybe that will be my granddaughter. She is very smart.” She turned to Cecilia. “Could my granddaughter learn how to help people here?”
“I’m sure she could,” Cecilia replied.
“I am 77 years old, Doctor Serenity,” Yessamartain said. “You wonder if I want to look 20 or 25 or 30. I want to hold my great granddaughter.”
Serenity nodded then, without turning away, she said, “Tranquility, would you review the plan, please.”
“I’m fairly sure Ginger is better at this than I am,” Tranquility replied.
“I want to be able to talk to you about it.”
“Oh. Of course, Doctor.” Ginger gestured and relinquished her seat. Tranquility sat down then reviewed the plan for Yessamartain. It took her several minutes, and she spoke quietly with Ginger a few times. Finally she nodded and climbed from the chair, giving it back to Ginger.
“Doctor,” Serenity said, “would you allow me to observe?”
“Perhaps you would like to assist,” Doctor Horton offered.
“Haven’t I interfered enough?”
“I’d welcome you, Doctor.”
Serenity nodded and looked at me. “I want to get here early.”
“We’ll make that happen,” I agreed.
Serenity nodded then turned to Yessamartain. She clasped the woman’s hands for a moment and said, “I’ll be here for the start of the procedure, and I’ll check in on you.”
“You’re a sweet girl,” Yessamartain replied.
“Unless you have more questions,” Mordain said, “perhaps Saramalain and Toromaro will take you for a nice walk outside.”
“I think I’d like that, and then a nap,” Yessamartain.
We watched as Yessamartain’s children wheeled her from the room. Once the door was closed, Tranquility said, her voice subdued, “If it works with the rest of our schedule, I’d like to help with her recovery.”
“No,” Cecilia said immediately.
Tranquility’s eyes flashed, and she turned to the governor. “You think you need my sister, but you don’t need me? We’re a package deal!”
“Oh, I want both of you,” Cecilia said. “But I’m not letting you get tied down with ongoing medical duties. You may observe all you want. You may volunteer to help the days you are here, if you want. But you’re on vacation, and you will act like it.”
Pippa snorted a laugh. Tranquility spun on her and pointed her finger. “Why did you give up classroom teaching?”
“I hardly think now is the time to talk about that.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“They don’t,” Tranquility said.
“Are you sure?” Cecilia asked.
Tranquility turned back to her. “Bluffing.”
“I don’t care how long a contract you’re willing to sign, they don’t give implants to classroom teachers.” Cecilia smiled. “They do, however, for someone willing to spend twenty years as Dean of Admissions to a major university on Tarriton.”
“Cecilia,” Pippa said, “did anyone ever tell you that you’re scary?”
“Lucky guess,” Tranquility commented.
“Damned good for a lucky guess,” Pippa countered. “Governor, Saira Horn has 15 years left on her contract. Unless she moves up the ladder, that’s how long I probably need to wait for my chance, but I’d say I have the inside track. Do you think you can do better?”
“I don’t know,” Cecilia said. “I guess we’ll see when we begin negotiating.” She smiled. “We’re visiting a school tomorrow.”
This time it was Serenity who laughed.
* * * *
It was some time later. Mother and I were walking along the cliffs overlooking the ocean. “I’m not a doctor or anything like that,” she said.
“I don’t know if I can get you an implant, but do you really think there aren’t 500 jobs you could do here?”
“I suppose there are.”
“Mother, you never really explained what happened between you and Grandma, and you’ve never even mentioned your own grandparents.”
Mother paused, and I wasn’t sure she’d answer, but then she said, “You know. When I had you, and it was time to make a decision, do you know what I did?”
“No.”
“I thought ‘What would Mother do?’ And then I did the opposite.”
I laughed at that. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. From what I can tell, Mother asked the same question raising me, but instead of doing the opposite, she would do the same as her Mother had done with her.”
“Oh.”
“I never met my in-laws,” she said. “Do you remember your grandmother?”
“I think so. I remember someone. She was always scowling. I remember once she asked, ‘Why do you let her do that?’ I don’t remember what I was doing.”
“Neither do I, but that sounds like something your grandmother would say.”
“She left Frantzland.”
“You were six but we hadn’t seen her in at least two years.”
“Do you regret it?”
“I wish things had been different,” she replied. “Maddalyn, I’ve worked so hard to keep a good relationship with you.”
“You’ve succeeded.”
“I think I made mistakes. I shouldn’t have let you go off with that woman.”
“I’m not sure you could have stopped me, and it wasn’t your decision.”
“I know,” she said. “I think I should have tried.”
“I don’t think things would have turned out better. Do you? And in the scheme of things, I didn’t even go through that much pain, thanks to you and Aunt Anna. The worst? I would have looked ridiculous for a few years. In the scheme of things, that’s nothing, especially if you compare it to what we’re trying to do here.”
“You’re right,” she said. “That woman today?”
“Yessamartain?”
“Yes. Her. Why was Serenity so upset?”
“About half our rejuvenation patients are dying. Well, they’re all dying, but some are dying more quickly than others.”
“Okay, that’s sad, but Serenity took it personally, didn’t she?”
“She thinks we’re setting her up, putting her in a position she’ll feel duty bound to stay and help. That’s not what we’re trying to do, and if I’d thought about it ahead of time, I’d have found another way to provide a tour.”
“I’m fairly certain Governor Grace knew exactly what was happening, even if you didn’t.”
“That sneak!” Then I laughed. “I wonder what she has in store for you.”
“She has you, Maddalyn. Do you think she needs more than that?”
* * * *
“I can’t believe I’m letting you get away with this,” Pippa muttered to me the next morning.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Right,” she said. “Your mom looks pretty hot.”
“Pippa!”
She laughed. “Well, she does.”
“You can’t date my mother.”
“Who said anything about dating? I was thinking her bed looks lonely.”
“You were not!”
“I’ve had the daughter. Now I think I want the younger mom.”
“That’s gross.”
“You are such a prude.”
“I am not a prude,” I said. “If either of us is a prude, you are.”
�
��That’s not what your mother is going to be saying in another few days.”
“Stop it! You are such a child.”
She grinned at me. “If you think a room full of freshly-scrubbed Talmon boys and girls will sway me, you’re mistaken.” She turned to face me. “Maddalyn, Cecilia was right. I quit teaching for an implant.”
“Fifteen more years and then a twenty-year commitment after that.”
“That’s the most likely scenario. No one can say I’m not committed.”
I looked into her eyes. I couldn’t say I blamed her. In fact, I admired her devotion and felt a little guilty how I had acquired mine. “What if the governor can beat that offer?”
“What do you think?”
“That can’t be the reason to stay, Pippa. It can’t be.”
“I wouldn’t do something I hated,” she said.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Twenty years is a long time to be miserable.”
“Is that what you think? That you’d be miserable living here.”
“That’s not what I said,” she replied. “But I also know you’re putting on a show for us. Is this what it’s going to be like a year from now?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Parties and dancing and long talks and all the attention from all these important people?”
“I work for the governor. I live in a vendart’s house. When I’m here, I have dinner with another vendart’s family. My mother-in-law is a third vendart.”
“That’s you.”
“You can be my hanger on,” I said with a smile.
“That is not the nature of the relationship we once had, Maddalyn.”
“I know,” I said. “It was a bad joke. But in a way it’s fair, too. That’s the circle you’d be part of, Pippa. You’d establish your own relationships with those people, and I don’t have a clue what that would look like. You’d make more friends, too. You’d be very popular with the local women, if you want to be.”
“I suppose they’re downstairs waiting for us.”
“I suppose you’re right. I don’t think they’ll leave without us.” I smiled. “Are you stalling, knowing that Kalorain is going to declare it Talmonese only the minute we get downstairs?”
“Yes.”
I laughed and stepped from her room.
* * * *
Let me say this: Cecilia definitely cheats.
I didn’t realize it, but we visited an all-girls school, and we were greeted by the girls of the school singing a traditional Talmon song of greeting.
But they did it in counterpoint, half the girls singing in Talmonese and half in English. Their accents were terrible, but not so terrible we couldn’t understand.
The song ended, and then on some signal, the girls hurried forward to surround us, several smiling faces assigned to each of us. The girls took our hands and led us into the school, and from there, we were each pulled in different directions.
I had four girls. The youngest was a sweet little girl of seven years old named Neahreltine. Ne-ah-rel-tine. The eldest was Lensidarn; she was sixteen. They pulled me all over the school, showing me the orchestra room, and some of the classrooms, and the gymnasium. We wandered the library for a few minutes, and then they pulled me to another classroom. Chairs were set up, and they pulled me to one then sat down at my feet, smiling up at me.
“Tell us about your home,” Lensidarn prompted.
The others of my party began to arrive, each in their own cluster, and each pulled to a chair. Pippa arrived, and I saw Margotain was with her as well. They were pulled to two chairs, and their six girls sat down at their feet.
I turned back to my girls. “Talmon is my home,” I said.
“Your old home,” Lensidarn clarified.
“Frantzland,” I said. “It means Free Land.”
“That seems like a good name.” Lensidarn smiled. “We’re supposed to keep you talking for at least a half hour, and then we’ll do a report tomorrow on what we learned.”
I smiled and taught them what I could of Frantzland. They didn’t seem impressed. I didn’t blame them. But I realized I wasn’t being fair, and so I said, “Talmon is so much prettier, and I like the people. But Frantzland has good things, too. We have very good schools. And we have this tradition. We have parks. They aren’t like the green, but they’re kind of like the green.”
“But inside,” Lensidarn said.
“Yes. Inside. The different parks are different. But each of them has an area for people to gather and talk. And once or twice a week, there will be a big conversation about some concept of philosophy.” I smiled. “They might talk about the meaning of life, or they might just debate some minor point almost no one cares about.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes when you have those discussions, you realize that it wasn’t such a minor issue after all.”
“We could do that here,” Lensidarn said.
“You know,” I replied. “We could, couldn’t we? Would you like that?”
“I don’t know,” she replied after a moment of thought. “I don’t know much about things like that.”
“Well, that’s the beauty of it,” I said. “You could learn. Do you like learning?”
They all nodded.
“Sometimes, you learn things that you need for life, like driving a carriage or writing.”
“Or numbers,” said Neahreltine, the youngest girl at my feet.
“Oh, yes. Numbers are very important,” I replied. “But sometimes you learn simply for the joy of learning. Who likes to run?” They all lifted their hands. “Well, learning is a little like running. Instead of exercising your legs, you exercise your brain.” I smiled. “I heard someone say that at the park one day. I was about your age.” I leaned forward and tapped Neahreltine on the nose. “I’ve thought about that a lot ever since.”
She smiled, and then I began asking my own questions.
It was perhaps ten minutes later that the headmistress clapped her hands, gathering our attention. “Girls, do you all remember what’s next?”
“Yes!” They shouted.
“Great! Let’s go!”
All the girls jumped to their feet. They reached for me and pulled me to my feet, then they were tugging me from the room. I let them lead me, and as soon as we were in the hall, they said, “We have to run.” And so we ran, down the hall, up the stairs, in and out of several classrooms, down the stairs, down another hall, outside, halfway around the school, back inside, down the hall, and into the gymnasium. Giggling, they pulled me to the bleachers, pulling me down and clustering around me, all of us laughing.
We weren’t the first to arrive, but from what I could tell, all of us had been treated the same way. I looked around, and everyone looked like she was having fun. Mother was smiling, although I realized she wouldn’t have been able to communicate with anyone. But she was smiling, and I decided she was fine.
“Now what happens?” I asked.
“You’ll see,” Lensidarn said.
The headmistress let everyone get settled, and then she stepped into the space in front of us. She smiled. “Who is first?”
Every girl raised her hand into the air, some of them waving or quivering. The headmistress picked one girl from each group, picking the youngest girls. Neahreltine and the other girls ran out to stand beside the headmistress. And then the woman said, “Governor, ask your girls to help you pick an animal.”
Cecilia huddled with her remaining girls for a moment then called out, “Rabbit!”
“Rabbit, girls,” said the headmistress. And with that, they all ran down to one end of the gym and crouched down. The headmistress moved to the other end. “Ready. Set. Go!”
The girls began hopping like rabbits, and around us, all the other girls began cheering, calling out names. So I yelled, “Go, Neahreltine. Go!”
Neahreltine made a good show of it, but it was one of the other girls who won the race. Then there were other events until e
ach of the girls had a chance to play. And I learned something about myself.
I had as much fun as the girls did. I found myself laughing along with them.
But something that was amazing to me: Mother got into it, too.
Finally, all the girls had played, and the headmistress said, “There’s one more game. Go get them, girls.”
All the girls ran back to the stands. Mine pulled me out onto the gym floor and to a particular spot. I didn’t know if our spot was assigned or if the girls just made sure they spread us around, but then Lensidarn said, “We get to pose you.”
“What’s the new game?”
“You’ll see,” she said.
Each of the adults was put into a pose. For me, they had me stand up straight but with my legs spread open widely. Mother was near the bleachers, and her girls had her bend at the waist, supporting herself with her hands on the front row of seats. Cecilia was tucked into a ball.
The sisters were together, Serenity crouched on the floor much like Cecilia was and Tranquility leaning against her back, well braced.
“All right, girls,” said the headmistress. “Show us your obstacle.”
One by one, the girls demonstrated their obstacles -- the adults. I was an easy obstacle. The girls had to run then slip to the floor and slide between my legs. “You can’t crawl,” Neahreltine said. “You have to slide. If Maddalyn can touch you when you come to a stop, you have to go around again.” And then she demonstrated, coming to a stop within easy reach. She looked up and said, “Touch me.” So I reached out and tapped her nose again. So she got up, ran around, and did it again, but this time I couldn’t reach her when she stopped.
Mother was a sort of bridge, too, but the girls had to go under her while bending backwards rather than ducking down. “If you touch her, you have to do it again.”
Cecilia was easy: the girls jumped over her. The sisters were harder. The girls had to jump over them, too, but they were a lot higher, and the girls pushed off of Tranquility as they jumped, and I realized why she was braced.
It wasn’t a race; the Talmonese didn’t have accurate clocks for something like that. Instead, it was just for fun, and so they girls all started at one end of the gymnasium, and at intervals, the headmistress started another girl.