The Demi-Monde: Summer

by Rod Rees

  ‘Good, we would make much enquiry of her.’

  Excellent. He so enjoyed the wailing that was the inevitable accompaniment of the Empress’s ‘enquiries’.

  ‘Yes … have the Daemon brought here to the Hall of Supreme Harmony. We would examine her and consult with the iChing regarding the disturbances she has wrought to the harmony of the Kosmos.’ The Empress paused to slurp down another river cucumber. ‘It will be interesting, will it not, to see if the rumours about Daemons being full of blood are true?’ she mused. ‘Once the divinations are complete, we will have this Daemon whipped and if it bleeds then we will have all the proof we require.’

  The prospect of whipping the Daemon caused something miraculous to happen: the Empress smiled, and as she did so there was an almost palpable sigh of relief emanating from those standing in attendance. Perhaps, Mao prayed, she was at last putting the concerns resulting from the less than propitious auguries given by the last reading of the iChing behind her and was once again finding Inner Contentment. She always enjoyed a good whipping.

  ‘And has the gaijin Trixie Dashwood concluded her inspection of our defences, Imperial Secretary?’

  ‘She has, Your Majesty,’ smarmed Mao, ‘and has pronounced herself astonished by the great and profound preparations you have made to repel these upstart heathens and foul heterosexuals the ForthRightists.’

  ‘She made no criticism?’

  ‘It is impossible to conceive that any could criticise your divinely inspired orders, Your Majesty. She has, however, asked that our Reservists be called up.’

  ‘Is this necessary? We are of the opinion that one Femme fighter is the equal of five nonFemmes.’

  ‘Of course, Your Majesty, this is the case, but I felt it wise to allow GeneralFemme Dashwood some independence of action to reinforce the ridiculous notion that it is she who guides and commands our army and navy. She is a great believer in military commanders demonstrating what she calls “initiative”.’

  Mao stole a quick glance at the Empress to gauge her reaction. The Empress wasn’t a great believer in ‘initiative’, being of the opinion that it was only a short step from ‘initiative’ to ‘sedition’. Luckily for him, she seemed to be in a mood to be indulgent.

  ‘Very well, let her play her nasty little military games. There is something distinctly masculine about that Femme which we find quite revolting. We find it quite astonishing that ABBA, in Her ineffable wisdom, should choose someone so inappropriate to be the saviour of the Coven, but we suppose, as ReverendFemme Dark saw fit to have herself killed at such an inconvenient time, ABBA had little alternative. It is, after all, imperative that we have a competent Femme commanding the army, and by all accounts Dashwood is nothing if not competent in matters martial.’

  Mao found himself agreeing with his Empress’s assessment. That Dashwood was a masculine Femme – the most serious criticism that could be directed at a Femme in the Coven – was undeniable. Very masculine, in fact: he had been in attendance when she had attempted to assassinate Archie Clement and had seen at first hand just what a resolute bitch she was.

  It was as though the Empress read his thoughts. ‘She must, however, be controlled, and left in no doubt that if she disobeys our orders, there will be reprisals.’

  ‘I have ensured that the remnants of the Warsaw Free Army are being closely guarded, Your Majesty, and GeneralFemme Dashwood has been advised that should she act in a manner that may, in any way, be construed as anti-Covenite or anti-HerEtical, then the most severe punishments will be visited upon them.’

  ‘We are inclined to dispose of them now,’ muttered the Empress as she held her head back to allow another river cucumber to be placed in her mouth.

  Mao shuddered. ‘Perhaps it might be wiser to wait until after the ForthRight attack, Your Majesty,’ he stammered. ‘If word of any culling were to reach the GeneralFemme, it might have a prejudicial effect on her performance.’

  The Empress crunched down on the cucumber, then smacked her lips. ‘You are correct, Imperial Secretary, we need the gaijin to defend us until we are ready to strike back at the ForthRight.’ The Empress allowed the Fresh Bloom to dab a cloth on her lips. ‘But speaking of culling: how go the efforts of Scientist-Femme Dr Ptah in this regard?’

  ‘I have interviewed the Doctor, Your Majesty, and understand that Project YiYi will soon be completed and the means to eradicate nonFemmes finally within our grasp.’

  ‘In “our” grasp, Imperial Secretary?’

  A stupid slip of the tongue and one which had to be remedied whilst he still had a tongue.

  ‘I apologise, Your Majesty: in your grasp,’ he corrected quickly. ‘We are in the final stages of bringing the fermentation vats housed in Hereji-Jo Castle to working temperature. It should be possible to begin quantity production of the Plague within eighty days, with deployment in the rivers on the final day of Summer. Clinical trials indicate that within two weeks of the Plague’s deployment the contamination that is the nonFemme population of the Demi-Monde will have been eradicated. If all proceeds to plan, by the fourteenth day of Fall the only nonFemmes existing in the Demi-Monde will be those you have permitted to live, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Effectiveness?’

  ‘One hundred per cent. Any uncastrated nonFemmes drinking water infused with the Plague or coming into contact with a nonFemme who has already contracted the Plague will be dead within ten days.’

  ‘So quickly? It must have a very short incubation period.’

  ‘Four to five days.’

  ‘Contagious?’

  ‘Very. The Plague is transmitted directly, nonFemme to nonFemme, and it is this which makes it so deadly. Every time an infected nonFemme coughs or sneezes, he will infect those around him.’

  ‘You are sure it has no effect on Femmes?’

  ‘Clinical trials were conducted using delinquent Femmes who have refused to indulge in Femme2Femme sex. They were unaffected.’

  ‘NoNs?’

  ‘It is ineffective against NoNs, Your Majesty.’ It had been the first question he had posed to that witch Dr Ptah. Mao was no fool.

  ‘How will nonFemmes infected by the Plague die?’

  ‘The Plague is a form of filovirus that is closely akin to the bubonic plague. It attacks the Solidified Astral Ether, causing the lumps – the buboes – which characterise the disease. Death itself comes from necrosis of the body’s SAE – it literally melts – and, as might be expected, is hugely painful.’

  Mao paused for a moment to relish the thought of the suffering these ungelded bastards would soon be enduring. Then they wouldn’t be inclined to laugh at him; then there would be no more snickering behind his back.

  Bastards … he hated them all.

  ‘Excellent,’ said the Empress with relish. ‘This pain will repay nonFemmes for the suffering they have inflicted on Femmes over the past millennium.’ A thought seemed to strike her. ‘Is there any way in which nonFemmes can protect themselves from the disease?’

  ‘Only by the strictest of quarantine, as we are doing with the nonFemmes who make up the One Per Cent Stock, but in reality the Plague’s onslaught will be so rapid and so devastating that before nonFemmes can take the measures necessary to protect themselves, they will be dead.’

  ‘The One Per Cent Stock will be held safe?’

  ‘They will be moved to special quarters tomorrow and a cordon sanitaire placed around it by Amazons of the First HerEtical Foot. All the water used by the One Per Cent Stock will be drawn from special tanks containing sterilised water. They will remain in quarantine until the Plague has run its course.’

  ‘Excellent. So in ninety days we will be living in what to all intents and purposes is a nonFemme-free world. Then we will be free to devote all our energy to solving the riddle that is parthenogenesis.’ Just for an instant the sleepy, almost careless expression on the Empress’s face was replaced by one considerably more cruel and calculating. ‘So we must hold the ForthRight at bay for ninety days. Yo
u will issue orders, Imperial Secretary, that immediately the ForthRight invasion begins, the Gates of the Great Wall are to be sealed and no refugees from Rangoon or Tokyo are to be permitted into Beijing. You will issue a proclamation stating that their Empress demands that all Femmes fight to their last breath to defend the Coven from the onslaught of the heterosexual invaders.’

  ‘And the children?’

  ‘There will be no exceptions.’

  Mao was provoked into making an observation. ‘The death toll will be enormous, Your Majesty, there are three million people—’

  ‘Let them all die. If by dying they delay the ForthRight’s advance until the Plague is ready to be deployed, then that is a sacrifice we are willing to make. If by dying they enable the Demi-Monde to enter the blissful state of MostBien, then that is a sacrifice we are willing to make.’

  The prospect of so much suffering delighted the Empress to the extent that she was persuaded to indulge in another river cucumber. As Mao averted his eyes, he caught sight of one of his assistants signalling to him from across the room.

  ‘I am pleased to announce, Your Majesty, that the Daemon known as Norma Williams has been delivered to the Forbidding City.’

  13

  The Forbidding City

  The Demi-Monde: 2nd Day of Summer, 1005

  HerEticalism abhors the sexual objectifying of Femmes. Decree 998/undressing: In Praise of DeMureness demands that all Femmes refrain from dressing and acting in an immodest or provocative manner which may be construed as having the intent to inflame the heterosexual libido. In response to this Decree, Covenite clothing designer Jiang Qing introduced the all-in-one boiler suit made from blue denim which has now become the near-ubiquitous uniform of Femmes within the Coven. Colloquially these are called ‘jiangs’, or, as the word has been corrupted in the rest of the Demi-Monde, ‘jeans’.

  The Young Femme’s Guide to the HerTory of the Coven: HerTorianNoN Fan Ye, Covenite Textbooks and Periodicals

  Norma’s rearrest by the Amazons was easy to stage. When she emerged from the safe house, day had most definitely dawned, the rain had eased a little and the streets were crawling with pink-jacketed soldiers searching for her, so it was a simple matter for her and her two escorts to ‘accidentally’ bump into a pair of Amazons. After a suitably convincing sword fight, Norma found herself once more wearing a set of manacles and riding in the back of a closed steamer guarded by a very resolute-looking CaptainFemme.

  Her journey to the Forbidding City took just over an hour, and when the steamer finally wheezed to a halt and the doors were thrown open she found herself attended by a tall, portly man in flowing silk robes embroidered with golden dragons who was standing, protected from the rain by a large pink umbrella held by an enormously muscular guard. He bowed to Norma. ‘I am Imperial Secretary Mao ZeDong, First Administrator and Most Senior NoN in the Court of Great Empress Wu, Mistress of the Demi-Monde, of the Great Beyond and of all the Kosmos, Blessed and Much Beloved by ABBA and Defender of the Faith of HerEticalism.’ The man’s voice was peculiarly high-pitched and he spoke in a strange lilting manner but this, Norma supposed, was what happened when a guy had his nuts chopped off. His English, though accented, was, however, impeccable.

  It would, Norma decided, be impolite not to return the bow, but even as she did so she found it impossible to take her eyes off the man … off the former man, she corrected herself. Covenite NoNs were famous throughout the Demi-Monde but this was the first time she had ever seen one of these exotic creatures up close.

  Of course she recognised the Dupe, having studied his image on the Polly back in the Real World when she had been preparing an essay on the history of Communist China, though she had never imagined Mao ZeDong looking quite so … divine. The pictures she’d seen had always shown him dressed in an artless military uniform with a forage cap plonked atop his melon of a head, so the long moustache, pigtail and over-elaborate robe came as something of a surprise, as did the mist of heavy perfume that shrouded him. Unfortunately, the perfume wasn’t heavy enough to disguise the unmistakable odour of urine that clung to his clothes.

  Odd.

  ‘You are not permitted beyond this point, CaptainFemme,’ Mao advised as he handed the officer a sealed warrant. The Covenites seemed obsessed with paperwork. ‘This is the authorisation indicating that I have taken ownership of the prisoner. I and my GuardNoNs’ – he indicated the two oversized men standing behind him – ‘will now take responsibility for the Daemon.’

  As the steamer puffed away, Mao bowed Norma towards a bright yellow palanquin, itself adorned with the same dragon motifs he wore on his kimono. ‘You are to be brought to the Forbidding City, Femme Williams, and to do this we must cross the Bridge of the Heavenly Divide.’ He pointed a finger towards the preposterously narrow bridge that spanned the huge moat that circled the City. ‘We must ride in the Imperial Palanquin as the bridge is built to break under the weight of a steamer.’

  Norma and Mao clambered inside the litter, which was lifted onto the shoulders of four brutally strong BearerNoNs who immediately set off at a trot, carrying them across the hundredmetre span of the bridge. As they went on their swaying way, Mao kept up his commentary. ‘The Bridge of the Heavenly Divide is the only way in and out of the Forbidding City. Beneath us is the Moat of UnMerciful Vengeances, its deep water covering a myriad of sharpened spikes designed to deter even the most determined of attackers.’

  It was then that a series of distant explosions rocked the quietude of Beijing. Curious about what was happening, Norma glanced out of the window and saw, on the other side of the Coven, beyond the Great Wall, trails of artillery shells looping over from the ForthRight and smashing into Rangoon. The war with the ForthRight that Su Xiaoxiao had been so anxious about had obviously begun.

  ‘That’s ForthRight artillery, Imperial Secretary, so I’ve got a feeling that soon you’re going to need all the deterring you can get. By the look of it, the ForthRight is preparing to invade.’

  Mao dismissed her comment with a negligent wave of his hand. ‘The ForthRight is of no concern; the Covenite army will brush these disgusting UnFunDaMentalist pig-dogs aside with no more effort than I might use to swat a fly.’

  Yeah, right.

  With a shrug Norma turned her attention back to the study of the wonders of the Forbidding City. One of the more peculiar aspects she noted was that they appeared to be going uphill and, as she had always understood the Demi-Monde’s Urban Band to be flat, this came as something of a surprise.

  Mao explained. ‘The Forbidding City is built on a motte formed from a circular outcrop of Mantle-ite precisely one kilometre in diameter which rises fifty metres above the surface of the Demi-Monde. It is unique in all of the Demi-Monde. Scholars speculate that it was formed by our Ancestors, the preChinks, at the same time they constructed the Great Wall.’

  The palanquin came to a rolling halt and Norma was helped to disembark by a BearerNoN. She was grateful to be back on her own two feet; her trip across the bridge had left her feeling as queasy as she’d been aboard the WarJunk.

  Coming to stand beside her, Mao pointed to the massive gates that towered over them. ‘These are the Meridian Gates which bar the way into the utopia that is the Forbidding City. Only a select and privileged few ever see the wonders that are hidden behind them.’

  The gates were impressive: at least a hundred feet high, coloured a deep, foreboding red, and set into the huge wall that circled the City. They looked incredibly formidable. Studying them, Norma decided that maybe Mao’s dismissive attitude towards the ForthRight was well grounded; it was difficult to imagine any artillery being powerful enough to smash them down.

  Their approach had been observed; from high up on the walls a gong sounded and immediately the gates began to open. Giving Norma yet another bow, Mao motioned her ahead of him and into the City. ‘This is the private domain of the Empress Wu. Only the most honoured and beautiful of Femmes and the most faithful and loyal of NoNs are allowed
to live in the Forbidding City, and of course, once they are within the City walls, none are ever permitted to leave.’

  Terrific.

  ‘None of them?’

  ‘Only the Empress and, of course, myself may leave the City.’

  Abandon hope all ye who enter here … especially if your name’s Norma Williams.

  Entering the Forbidding City was like stepping into a fantasy world of pagodas, swooping yellow-tiled roofs, red-brick walls, immaculately paved courtyards and a plethora of statues of dragons. But the thing that impressed Norma the most was how clean the City was: so clean that it looked for all the world like a Disneyfied version of a Chinese palace.

  And the Femmes and NoNs who were scuttling about the place were as curious as their setting. All the girls were dressed in beautifully embroidered kimonos – no boiler suits for them – their shaven heads decorated with elaborate silver tiaras rendered in the shapes of leaves and birds. But the NoNs populating the City seemed determined not to be outdone: their robes were equally fine and their penchant for make-up gave their faces a peculiarly dramatic and other-worldly cast.

  ‘So there are no men – nonFemmes – within the Forbidding City.’

  ‘No. Such a thought is disgusting to HerEticalism; only NoNs are permitted to grace the Forbidding City.’

  ‘That seems a rather draconian policy.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Mao as he guided Norma through a side door and along an elaborately decorated corridor, ‘it is eminently sensible. Undiluted and unrestrained masculinity is anathema to HerEticalism … indeed, MALEvolence is anathema to the very concept of civilised behaviour. The Forbidding City is MostBien in microcosm; it shows what the Demi-Monde might be if it was freed of the contamination of unneutered nonFemmes.’

  ‘But isn’t becoming a NoN a sacrifice? Don’t you miss being a man?’

  ‘Are all Daemons this blunt, Femme Williams?’

  ‘Only the Yank ones.’