by Nōnen Títi
“But why the public humiliation?” she asked Leni after.
“There’s a difference between humiliation and humility, Jema. By giving her strap to Frimon, Emi accepts him as her guide and gives him her trust. By using it he offers her his guidance and protection. Can you understand a bit of that?”
“You know, Leni, I don’t know if I’ll ever understand all of it, but I’m not in the habit of turning things down because I don’t.”
Leni put her arm through Jema’s. There was to be a party at the back of the Society homes and Jema had agreed to help Leni get water from the central kitchen for drinks. It was a fair walk. The design of the town was very beautiful and Jema was sure the planners had done a great job, but the only connection between the streets was near the centre – like a flea would have to crawl from one of the spider’s legs to the other by way of its body; he could jump, but risked touching the dangerous web in between. This settlement had sixteen legs.
On the way Leni told her that it was also Frimon who would take responsibility for guaranteeing a future comate that Emi was well prepared, while it was the parent’s job to choose the right guide. Jema wondered out loud what would happen if the child didn’t agree with the parent’s choice. “Sorry, I’m too nosy.”
“No Jema, I’m glad you ask. People never mind questions about their belief; what they mind is others making judgements without having asked.”
There were plenty of questions Jema wanted to ask, like why a strap and why had Leni chosen Frimon.
“The strap is made of a prized plant material which Emi has decorated with our family insignia especially for this occasion. It is a valued tool to us. I know that is difficult to accept, but it has solved a lot of problems.”
“Can I ask you something really crazy then?”
Leni smiled, answering the way she often did.
“It’s not about Emi, but it has to do with what we just talked about and with that ritual; you know, the one with Frimon on SJilai.”
“The one we call ‘penance’. It’s just a word, Jema. Nothing will happen if you use it.”
Leni’s gentle tease made it easier to get the words out, so Jema mentioned Anoyak. Leni slowed her pace while Jema told her all that had happened, including the request she’d been unable to grant.
“Now why do you think this is so crazy?” Leni asked.
“It just seems that you would be more capable of dealing with it. You’re so relaxed about those things.”
“Which things?”
“I just feel that Anoyak needs people who approve of him so he doesn’t have to punish himself.”
Leni didn’t accept the evasion. “You’re asking me to help a boy who doesn’t even know me and who may not want to have anything to do with the Society. How would we go explain this to him if you can’t even talk about it?”
“Maybe it was a dumb idea?”
“Why is that?”
Jema was no longer sure. “You keep returning my questions.”
“And you keep avoiding mine,” Leni answered.
There was something in Leni’s smile that resembled Nini’s. It was eternal; as if listening with amusement to the emotional charges of others, but without derision. These people had found peace inside themselves and were accepting of what was put before them, and it was that which made it easy to be with them.
“Okay, I admit that I’m not as comfortable talking about it as I’d like to be. I don’t even know why I brought it up. It just occurred to me that what Anoyak is doing is kind of like what penance is, or, at least, what I think it is.”
“Should I ask you what it is you think or will that make you run?” Leni asked.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“Maybe a little. I don’t think it is easy to explain what penance is, Jema. It’s a personal experience for people.” She could only vouch for what it had meant to her the few times she’d done it; it was something special, saved for when it was really important. Not a simple appeal to the higher power, but the relation with the other person was addressed, and that was also what made it hard. DJar had enforced its moral views using guilt and shame, which were destructive to a person’s sense of identity. “And, yes, in that manner it frees people from the need to punish themselves.” She made it sound like a blessing. It had once saved her a friendship which threatened to be lost because of her inability to go to this person and admit a wrong. “At any rate, penance is not punishment for a wrong; it is relief from the guilt of it.”
“I can’t imagine you’d do that.”
“Yes, you can. You can imagine it, you just don’t want to think about it.”
Jema concentrated on pulling up the bucket from the well and pouring the water into the containers Leni held up.
“I would hope, Jema, that if ever you and I have an argument you’d be willing to give up your pride for our friendship, because I certainly would.”
“It isn’t pride.”
Leni smiled nodding. “Now don’t go telling Frimon this water wasn’t filtered first.”
“Who was Bueror anyway?” Jema asked when they turned to go back.
“Safer subject?” Leni asked, but then obliged to the request without further teasing. “In the time of Bueror, about five gran ago, Geveler existed of many small countries, all at war with each other over land and power. Sons were regarded as an asset to any family, because they went into the service of a land owner to be trained for battle and schooled for a trade; winning competitions could gain them a higher social ranking for their family. The ambition for any young boy was to become a perfect man, both physically and mentally.
“Daughters were seen as servants to breed sons. In poor families, if food was scarce, girls were often sacrificed. Bueror’s parents were poor. The father had been injured in a war, could do very little labour and was considered useless. When pregnant with him, the mother began having visions of one ruler in Bue, in which Bue spoke to her with promises of a Land Beyond, a paradise to which only those with an honourable soul would be admitted. He spoke of a battle to come between the good and the evil. A child would be born to fight the battle for the poor people and with its victory all suffering would end. He ended every message with the words “Bue rules, Bue ror”.
“The mother gave birth to twins: a boy and a girl. Since it wasn’t clear from the vision which one of the twins was the saviour or would bring forth the saviour, both were allowed to live despite the poverty. The father protected and revered the son, who would raise the family status. He sold all he owned to give the boy an education.
“The girl was brought up by her mother and learned about the visions. She went out and began teaching the poor people of the promise of Bue, stressing that nobody knew which daughter was destined to bring forth the saviour. Her followers started caring for their daughters and protested the oppression. Within a few years, the Divine Star was a massive movement, especially among the poor. Of course, that was considered a threat to the ruling classes.
“Having been educated as a soldier for the rich, the brother was given the command to rid the country of the followers of the Divine Star. He was to turn against his sister or he would lose his place and with that the hand that fed him. He obeyed and had her arrested, tried, and killed for conspiracy. However, instead of this stopping the movement, it had the opposite effect. The sister was made a martyr by her followers, who proclaimed Bue’s wrath. As fear does, it spread fast, even among the well-to-do.
“Some years after that, the boy himself started having visions, in which his sister, the good of Bue’s prophecy, spoke to him of a chance to repent and so rid himself of the evil. Only those men who would atone for their sins once a year would be allowed to commit and with that fulfil their only goal, which was to procreate. In order to spread the word, he allowed himself to be beaten to the point of collapse, increasing this penance by one day every year he outlived her. During those years, he wrote the Sjusa. Bueror’s self sacrifice became widespread knowledge
and his eventual death became a symbol for the journey of the soul. In short, it had almost completely reversed the value of male versus female, and though a lot was later disputed, women still have a special place in the Society. That’s about it,” Leni finished
“Wow, and I thought the DJar we left was bad.” Jema said. “So was Bueror his name?”
“Some people believe so. Others, like myself, believe it was the words Bue rules, which were interpreted as a name. It’s hard to say. In those days, people spoke many languages; a mistake in translation is easily made. The sad thing is that feuds have been fought over these disagreements. The Society has split up more than once, while what should be important is the message of the story, rather than the details.”
“And what about Kun DJar? Frimon mentioned once that the people were promised this land?”
“That’s another time, Jema. That came later when the Society of the Divine Star was being cast out on Geveler.”
The party had already started and Leni left her to talk to somebody else.
After that day, Leni visited the home more often, unobtrusively getting closer to Anoyak while Jema watched from a distance. Anoyak accompanied Jema on her visit to Leni’s home a moon later, during which Frimon announced he was taking Rorag for a walk and invited Anoyak to come along. “Come on son, let the women gossip.”
Whatever they talked about during that walk, Jema didn’t know, but Anoyak went to see Rorag more often from then on.
With the library finished, Learners nowhere near restarting, and with no other special skills, Jema found herself assigned to odd jobs, a different one every day. At first people had been given permanent jobs but that had caused protests, so Frantag had organized a rotating schedule. Some work was okay, like the distribution of food or mending clothes, while some was less pleasant, like going to wash whole bunches of clothing or emptying excretorials into the new septic pit that had been dug outside of the settlement. Of course, people complained about the new arrangement just as much as before; they seemed to forget they’d actually moved planets and were only just getting started. “I get to do the dirty work and I have nothing to show for it,” a man told her.
“You’re alive. That should be enough.”
It made her angry to hear Kalgar talk about “fair compensation” when he meant that scientific and technology skills were more vital for the future of the colony. It was the big discussion at the moment: Kalgar and Frantag openly disagreed and it had the people divided into two camps: those who wanted payment according to work done versus those who wanted to keep the equal division of food according to needs per family. Jema agreed with Frantag and the last group; it was way too early to have people compete for food. The supplies were limited and there was little prospect of eating off the land. If nothing else, on Kalgar’s system, the people who had chosen to adopt a child would be forced to work harder to provide for their families.
One big improvement had been made thanks to Daili. She had discovered that south of the settlement, where the pod-like vegetation grew, the land was really wet because the water didn’t drain. The compacted dead matter clumped together and could be dried for burning. For now, there was plenty of it, and a sort of a furnace had been built to contain the heat. It stood in the central kitchen to provide warm water for drinks and food pouches. Once it burned, the output was good and there were plans to build a similar furnace in the central plaza to replace the already-failing heater in the social building.
Other than that, they had plenty of more serious problems to deal with, as Nini knew better than most. The new clinic was busier in one day than it had been during all the years on SJilai together. People got hurt working or even just walking. The little jumping things which grew like mushrooms caused allergies among the farmers and made the cattle sneeze. Naturally, the farmers had taken to killing as many of them as possible. Pests or weeds?
Sitting together on the ground against the back of the library, using their coats to keep warm, Nini told Jema about the recent increase of infections by micro-organisms. “Similar to what we used to have on DJar, but not the same. Even if they have never encountered people before, they’ve already found a way into our bodies and can survive long enough to cause symptoms. Maybe we make a useful stage in one of their needs, like nutrition or procreation.”
“You talk about them as if they do it on purpose,” Jema said.
“They don’t think like we do, but they work as one. Their only goal is to reproduce in the most economic way, just like any other living thing, and you know what?”
“What?”
“They’re the ones who were around before any other species, and they’ll outlive all others as well.”
“I guess they discovered the best way to do it.” It was kind of cool to think that exactly those life forms that were considered the lowest of the low would one day be able to sit back and laugh as the last of the people died.
Nini explained that their success was due to their rapid reproduction. People’s bodies developed slowly and needed time to create a system of resistance, which was why so many people were sick for a few days. The microbes created a new generation many times in one Kun DJar day. “In that light we don’t stand a chance and it’s amazing we’re still here,” she said.
“How did the microbes get here?”
“I’m no expert in that, Jema. They must have evolved somehow, just like everything else did.”
“Can we develop something to protect us?”
“Maybe. We brought some antibiotics but Irma doesn’t want to use them yet or they won’t work for the more dangerous attacks that are sure to come. The only real defence we’ll ever have is a strong body and mind.”
“Do you think we can adapt, seeing we’re the strangers here?”
“I sure hope so, Jema, but I’ve got the feeling it’s the other way around right now.”
“You mean because we’re already killing what we don’t like?”
“That too. But it’s as if the planet has put up some defence against us in a similar way our body does to the microbes. The fog, the sound, all those metal things that keep disappearing, the machines that break down – they all work like antibodies to drive us out. When that doesn’t help we seem to be isolated; as soon as somebody leaves the boundaries of the settlement he runs into problems. Like this is a cell that doesn’t belong anymore. It’s invaded by micro-organisms – us.”
“Have you told anybody about that, Nini?”
“I tried. It isn’t easy for people to consider not being able to go where they please. I was told I talk nonsense, that a planet is not a life form and therefore cannot isolate anything. I was told that I was no trained ecologist and that there was no scientific data that would allow for such a theory, and they’re right. It’s just that I get these feelings sometimes. It feels like there is some intelligence present, and it isn’t people.”
“I never had much hope for the connection between people and intelligence in the first place,” Jema said. “What about Irma and Benjamar?”
“They’re willing to listen to me, which is more than most others do, but they can’t feel it. They’re scientists. They need facts and I can’t give them any.”
“Yes, and they’re also bigheaded. People attracted to science are never open to those powers, so they’ll never find the proof. They got it all backwards. They say they’ll accept something when it’s proven, but they can’t find it because they’re not looking, and in the meantime they step on everybody who can feel it. I can’t see why it can’t be possible for a planet to be a life form in its own right if we can be. You don’t even have to talk another dimension: Just like we can step on an ant and it won’t ever know what the foot was that killed it, so could we be creatures under an even larger foot without being able to comprehend it. How long before people stop seeing themselves as the centre of the Universe?”
What Nini had just told her was an exciting concept, to say the least. Kun DJar could be a living, think
ing entity, travelling with her family around Kun. Who knew? She could even have a personality. Maybe DJar had once been like that, but had been invaded by too many parasites and fallen ill. “What happens to the microbes that invade our body when the body gets better, Nini?”
“They get killed by our defence cells and eaten.”
“Nice prospect.” Jema explained where her thoughts had taken her.
“You’re going a bit fast, Jema. My interpretation may be totally wrong.”
“I know, but it may also be right and it won’t hurt to keep an open mind.”
“That’s why I like you,” Nini said and leaned her head against Jema’s chest. In an automatic reaction, Jema put her arms around Nini as she would have a child. Nini had never done this before. A sudden sadness seemed to come over her; a slight frown above her eyebrows.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m just a bit lonely right now, Jema. Tarin is going to live with Remko from now on and I’m moving in with Tarin’s roommates.”
The news had Jema quiet for a moment; she had believed Nini and Remko to be the perfect match. “Why?” she asked.
“Because Tarin needs him more than I do. Because he can give her what he gave me and she deserves that. We talked about it together. I’m not upset, just a little lonely.”
Jema pulled her closer. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else special to you. In the meantime, you can always come to me if you feel this way.”
“I know that, Jema, and I’m in no hurry. I don’t believe I’ll easily find someone like Remko again.”
Jema wiped Nini’s dark hair out of her face and kissed her head. Above them the two moons were in a dance around Kun DJar, faint against the gentle glow of the not-quite-dark sky. Tonight a couple, but tomorrow they would be solitary dancers once again? The only witnesses to their closeness. Did Nini feel that too?