by Sarah Zettel
Teal’s sideways glance at the bathroom said she did, and Chena was ready to agree with her, even though she knew it would never happen.
Mom just looked at them both. “I know this isn’t comfortable. I know it isn’t any fun. But if things are going to get better, we are going to have to get through this, and if we’re lucky, this is as bad as it’s going to get.” She gave one more brief, sharp sigh. “Now let’s get over it. Chena, bring your sister.” She fixed her eyes straight ahead and marched through the doorway.
At that moment, standing there felt worse than imagining getting into the water did, and, of course, Mom had just made her responsible for bringing Teal.
“Come on.” Chena knotted her fingers around the towel she carried and stepped forward.
Chena steeled herself not to see and not to think. She stripped off her clothes as fast she could, hiding under one of the rough towels that she draped over her shoulders. She got in and out of the noisy shifting bathwater as quickly as Mom would let her. The yellow soap was harsh against her skin and smelled pungent and strange. The smell surrounded her like a cloud as she put on her clean clothes and they accompanied the other bathers back to the sleeping room to return their stuff to their lockers. By the time they closed the locker door, Chena felt like she would have rather stayed aboard Athena and begged for air money.
Mom said nothing. She was probably still mad. She looked mad, with her face all hardened and closed up. She wouldn’t look down at Chena or Teal at all.
The way to the dining room was not hard to find. A steady stream of people headed out one of the double doors into the morning. Outside was brighter and warmer now, and full of people. Gaggles of people strode or slouched along the gravel paths. Villagers filled the lowest catwalk, heading away into the trees toward the river docks. They wore thick dark clothing, and they all seemed to have long hair, either pulled back in ponytails or braids, or rolled up tightly against the backs of their heads. The newcomers were mostly on the ground paths, a strange patchwork bunch in their station blues, reds, and oranges. It didn’t take much looking to see that the tree people were staring down at them.
Back at you, thought Chena toward whatever snide thoughts were being rained down at her and her family. Right back at you. She didn’t dare make the piss-off sign. Mom would see. But she knew those looks. She’d seen looks like them on the station. Up there were the ones who had something you didn’t and thought it was your fault that you weren’t as good.
“Ow!” Teal’s yelp jerked Chena’s thoughts and her gaze out of the trees. Teal stood in the middle of the path, with her right hand jammed under her left armpit and staring with bewildered accusation at the air at the edge of the path.
Around them there were a few small laughs, and Chena heard the word “fence” ripple up and down the river of people.
Chena wrapped one arm around her sister. “Don’t worry about it, Teal,” she said, glaring at the amused bystanders. “I didn’t see them either.”
Mom also gave the bystanders a hard look, which actually got them to stop chuckling and move on. While she checked Teal’s hand to make sure that there were no actual burns or anything, the closed-in feeling returned to cover Chena completely. Even so, she did not miss the frown on her mother’s face as Mom looked at the fence posts. She would have given anything to know what Mom was thinking, but Mom said nothing. She just started walking toward the dining hall again.
The dining hall was a long low building with a thicket for a roof and tangled vines falling down its walls. The inside was dim, and the air smelled of the yellow soap and strange spices. But as Chena got into the food line with Mom and Teal, her stomach grumbled.
Can’t smell all that strange, she thought as she picked up a bowl and shuffled forward. A man who looked so bored he was almost dead slopped a dollop of something beige, steaming, and dotted with bits of black and red into her bowl. Chena sniffed the steam. It smelled bland, but her stomach growled again.
At the end of the line, people were ladling something white into their bowls and drizzling something else brown and goopy on top, so Chena did too. Then she grabbed a big ceramic mug of what smelled like apple juice.
She was not surprised to see that everybody had to sit at long tables and that no one seemed to have their own spot. Fortunately, three men in thick trousers and long-sleeved shirts were just getting up from the end of one of the tables. Chena slid into the place where they’d been sitting and waved for Teal and Mom to come join her.
No one around them seemed interested in talking. They just dug their spoons into their bowls and ate. But they were watching. Chena saw the sidelong glances, as if every stranger in the room were sizing her and her family up. She wanted to yell at them, give them all the piss-off sign. What was the matter? They didn’t think the Trusts were good enough to eat here? These people weren’t so great either. Their clothes were dirty or sewn back together. She could see elbows poking through thin shirts and knees through thin trousers. Everyone’s skin seemed to be wrinkled and callused, even the kids’.
And they have the nerve to stare at us. I’ll show them nerve.
But Mom would have gone nuclear, so Chena kept her mouth shut and tried a spoonful of the… whatever it was. It probably stank. That was probably why everyone looked so pissed. The food was probably as bad as the bathrooms.
The stuff touched her tongue and Chena froze. It was delicious. It was warm and creamy and sweet and strong. She had to stop herself from shoveling a huge helping into her mouth.
“Nothing new wrong, Chena?” asked Mom.
“No,” said Chena, swallowing hastily and digging her spoon into the food. “I just wasn’t expecting it to be any good.”
Mom nodded. “Station food is processed till it screams. There’s almost nothing left inside. That’s why I used to feed you all those vitamin supplements. This is your first taste of the real thing, my dear.” Her eyes sparkled for the first time that day. “Does it make up for the bathroom?”
Chena made a show of considering. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.…”
Mom laughed, and even Teal smiled. They all tucked into their breakfasts like they meant it.
“Off the station?” asked a big, coarse man at Teal’s elbow.
“Yes.” Mom gave him her polite, distant smile. “We just arrived last night.”
“Well, good luck, then,” he said, getting up. “Watch your step and steer clear of anybody with an armband and you’ll be okay.” He picked up his bowl and left, dumping the dish in a big bin on the way out.
“Well,” said Mom, looking after him, “I suppose that will pass for a kind word.”
“Don’t worry about it, love.” This came from a squat, wrinkled woman with skin as brown as tree bark. “There’s a court tomorrow, and everybody’s on edge. I’m Lela.” She extended her hand and Mom shook it. “You know your shift yet?”
“I’m not on shift. I’ve got a job lined up.”
The woman nodded approvingly, but Chena thought she saw something strange in her eyes. “You’re a lucky one, then. And these are your girls?”
The exchange that followed was predictable. Mom gave Lela their names and Chena and Teal responded with reflexive politeness and immediately dropped out of the conversation, eating their breakfasts and letting Mom and the new woman talk over their heads about the dormitory, where Madra’s office was, where they could get some newer blankets, and when were mealtimes and how long had Lela been there and did she have any family?
Then Chena caught the words, “… found the body hanging off the dock. The hothousers about had a fit.”
Her attention leapt back to the conversation.
“That’s hideous,” said Mom, genuinely shocked. “But they’ve caught who did it?”
“We think so. That’s what the court’s about tomorrow.” Lela rolled the words around her mouth. “The cop’s got his own ideas, of course, but it’s the village decides how to take care of its own.” She looked Mom over thou
ghtfully. “You get your place sorted out, you’ll probably have to be there. All adult citizens have to vote on the verdict.”
“Well, that will be interesting,” said Mom coolly.
“Ha!” Lela barked. “Just shows you haven’t ever been to one. Everybody up and down and arguing, and witnesses that won’t talk and what-all…” She shook her head. “Thank the gods below this one had no blood family or there’d be vengeance cries until the roof shook apart.”
Chena felt cold inside. A court? On the station, the security systems decided who had done what based on the camera recordings, and then it was just a matter of looking up the punishment. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of people deciding what would happen. When people got mad, they said things like, “I’m going to break your head!” What if they actually got to do it?
“Well, it’s been lovely talking to you.” Lela drained her mug and gathered up her bowl and spoon. “But I’m on today and I’ve got to get going. You can’t miss Central Admin, Helice. There’ll be a line.”
“Thank you.” Mom saluted and Lela nodded, striding off between the crowds and tables.
Teal groaned. “Another line! Why can’t they just buzz us with whatever they need?” Chena wondered if she’d even heard anything about the dead body and the court, or if she’d just been wrapped up in her own head.
She rolled her eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, vapor-brain—”
“Chena…” said Mom automatically as she stood.
“—there aren’t any computers,” Chena finished, then picked up her dishes and dumped them into a wooden bin that sat on the end of the table.
“Which is so stupid,” announced Teal as they left the hall and headed down the path. “How do they run this place without computers? How do they tell anybody anything?”
“I’m sure we’re about to find out,” said Mom. She did not sound thrilled.
Finding out involved sitting on the path outside the Central Administration Building with a long, ragged line of people in station-style clothes. Chena thought she recognized a couple of the airheads from the first waiting room, but no one she knew enough to say hello to. So they just joined the line—Mom standing up straight, like she could wait there all day, and Chena and Teal sitting cross-legged at her feet, sometimes messing with their comptrollers but mostly just staring at the people and the low green buildings, or the trees that made up the entire world beyond the fence posts.
Occasionally Madra would stick her head out the door, say, “Next!” and smile at the rest of them as they all shuffled forward a few inches and settled back down to wait again.
Then Chena started noticing something. Not everyone who went through the door came out again. Sadia’s words about being declared useless and getting hauled off came back to her, settling cold and hard in her stomach.
Stop it, she told herself, chewing her lip. Mom would never let it happen. She wouldn’t have brought you here if it could happen.
But her mind refused to relax. It kept rolling over those thoughts until she had wrung every possibility down from her brain into her guts, where they all knotted together. By the time they reached the head of the line, Chena could barely sit still.
Of course, Mom noticed. “Easy, Supernova,” she said. “It’ll all be over soon.”
“I’m okay.” She tried to sound convincing, but wasn’t sure if she managed it. “It’s just—”
And, of course, that was when Madra had to stick her head out the door and say, “Next! Oh, good morning, Helice, Teal, Chena,” she added as she recognized them. “Come on in.”
The office was dim and cool, like the dorm and the dining hall had been. Chena was starting to wonder if there was some kind of regulation against bright light. But, except for the strip windows and the wooden walls, it looked like every office Chena had ever been in. There were chairs for guests, and desk and another chair for the person who actually worked there.
This office also had stacks of record sheets piled on every flat surface. There was an interior door that maybe went to the larger building. Next to it sat a teak-skinned man with a hooked nose who wore a white shirt, black vest, and black trousers.
“Sit down, please.” Madra’s smile was efficient as she slid into place behind her desk. “This is Administrator Tam Bhavasar from the Alpha Complex.” Her smile did not waver, but something sour crept into her voice as she spoke the name. Chena shifted. This was the first hint they’d had that Madra-the-Eternally-Cheerful might not like somebody. “We are under his jurisdiction and he will be providing such representation as we require to the family inside the complex.”
“We’ve spoken.” Mom’s voice had gone back to tight and polite. Chena shifted her weight. Who was this guy? Her gaze flickered to Administrator Tam. He had a long, lean frame. His legs stretched out in front of him, all relaxed, but Chena knew that was for show. She could feel the tension radiating off him like white heat.
“Before you’re assigned a work shift,” Madra went on, “I am required to tell you…” Required? That was new too. Up until now, all her little speeches had sounded like they were her own idea. “… that you, Helice, have the option of transferring residence to the Alpha Complex.” The smile grew strained, even dipped for a second. “Your residence contract there will include free room, board, and education, for yourself and your daughters, along with a guarantee of employment that will allow you a monthly positive accumulation.”
“No,” said Mom in the frosty voice she used on petty bureaucrats and pushy vendors. “We discussed this, Administrator. I am not interested in participating in your experiments.”
Spare parts—the words jolted through Chena again. Oh, piss and God, they really do it.
Oddly enough, Administrator Tam seemed to relax a little. “You can change your mind at any time, Mother Trust,” said Administrator Tam, running one long, clean hand up and down the chair arm. “I ask you to consider. The Diversity Crisis is affecting every human world. Children are dying daily because we have not yet been able to come up with a cure. With your help, we will be able to design a new—”
“Thank you.” Mom clipped off the words. She was using her special voice, the one that meant, I don’t want to discuss this in front of my children. “I have been informed as to what you are trying to design and how you want me to help, and I have told you I am not interested.”
But Administrator Tam was not ready to give up yet. “Life working the village will be very hard on your children. They are not used to it.” Like Madra’s, the speech sounded rehearsed, like he wanted to be on record. Chena looked around for the camera, but she couldn’t see anything. Who did this guy think was listening?
Then she remembered that the Pandorans, at least the hothousers, were all supposed to have chips in their heads. Maybe they were there to record what you did all day, for the bosses, whoever the hothousers had as bosses. Mom’s boss back in Athena’s repair bays would have loved something like that. He was always trying to dock her pay for taking too long a break or something.
The ghost of a smile played around Mom’s mouth. “My daughters have not lived easy,” she said. “As I have a job of my own, I hope to change that situation.” She carefully enunciated every word in the last sentence so there could be no mistake. Chena felt her insides thawing and relaxing. How could she have been afraid? Mom would never do such a thing, not to them, not to herself.
“You have your answer, Administrator,” said Madra, twitching a record sheet off the top of the nearest pile. “If you’ll allow me to move along? We still have a lot of processing to get through.”
Administrator Tam just nodded and sat back, satisfied. This was too weird. If the guy didn’t want Mom in the hothouse, what was he doing here? Chena chewed on her lip. She did not like this. There were way too many things going on in this room that she didn’t understand.
“Thank you for your understanding, Administrator.” Madra’s smile was sunny, but her tone was cool. She consulted the record she
had retrieved and compared it with the records already in front of her. “Now, I want to make sure both girls get on daytime shifts, of course.”
“Can I put in a request?” asked Chena, a little hesitantly, looking from Mom to Madra to try to see how either of them would take it. Mom looked mildly surprised. Madra quickly shifted her expression over into encouraging.
“Go ahead,” said Madra, gesturing to indicate that the floor, or possibly the whole world, was Chena’s.
“I’d like to be with K37,” she said, hoping she remembered it right. “I met this girl, Sadia,” she said in response to Mom’s inquiring lift of her eyebrow. “When I was… out. She seemed nice. It’s her shift.”
“Mmm…” Madra shuffled through her records. “K37’s not a beginner’s shift. We normally don’t schedule newcomers there.”
“That’s okay,” Chena assured her. “I can handle it.”
Madra sighed and spoke to Mom. “It’s demanding physical labor on that one. Shoveling, working with the compost…”
“I’m not puny,” announced Chena. She caught the are-too look on Teal’s face and ignored it. She turned to Mom. Pleading with Madra wasn’t going to do any good. “Please, Mom. She was nice, and she can show me what’s what.”
Mom faced Madra. “Can she try it? If she can’t handle the work, she could be transferred off the shift, couldn’t she?”
“Again, that’s not something we normally do.” The phrase sounded prerecorded. Chena snuck a look at Administrator Tam. He watched Madra, but Chena couldn’t tell one thing about what he saw.
Madra herself seemed to be waiting for something, maybe for Administrator Tam to interrupt. When he didn’t, her smile reasserted itself. “As long as you’re aware it will be demanding work,” she said to Chena, who nodded rapidly. “All right.”
“I’ll make it work,” said Chena confidently, more for Mom than for Madra. Mom just covered her hand and squeezed. She was watching the administrator watch Madra. Did she know something about him?
“What about you?” asked Madra of Teal. “Anything special you’d like?”