Venus of Dreams

by Pamela Sargent

  Ari rested his hands on his knees. “You see, Chen, you’re one of the people we’ve decided to send back.”

  Chen was silent.

  “It may be only for a while,” Corazon said hastily. “Work will be found for you on Earth. I know how you must feel, but you’ll be first on the list along with anyone else who’s worked here when it’s time to bring in more workers. You’ll have a chance to be part of the Project later.”

  “If, of course, your work on Earth is satisfactory,” Ari added, “as I’m sure it will be.”

  Chen stared at his Counselor mutely; her black eyes revealed her unhappiness, as if she were feeling his pain as her own. Perhaps she did. Corazon, he knew, had grown up on an Island; her parents and grandparents had worked here.

  “I wanted to tell you personally,” Ari continued. “I realize that this must come as a surprise. Anyway, we felt that some of you might like the chance to go home, to see old friends and familiar places. The change will do you good.”

  “I can’t go,” Chen said at last. “I have an agreement. There’s nothing wrong with my work.”

  “You’d better listen to your agreement again, my boy.” Ari’s voice was a bit sharper. “There’s a clause in it that allows us to send anyone back with cause. You know perfectly well that we don’t break agreements, and we have reasons for choosing you to return.” Ari’s eyes narrowed as he stood up and rubbed his hand over his graying brown hair. “I’ll leave you with your Counselor now — you may want to talk. Unless you have any questions for me —” He raised his brows.

  “I can’t go,” Chen repeated. “I’m needed here. It isn’t right. You’re not doing me a favor — you’re punishing me.” He swallowed, trying to control himself.

  “Be sensible. Others can take up the slack. Really, Chen, I thought I was being considerate in coming to tell you this myself instead of leaving it to Corazon here. Believe me, you’ll see that it’s for the best.” Ari frowned for a moment, as if he regretted bringing this news to Chen, but his frown seemed rehearsed. “You’ll be given a good job back home.”

  Home, Chen thought. This is my home. “And when do I get to come back?” he asked forcefully.

  “That I cannot answer.” Ari was glowering. “I rather think that’s up to you and how you get on, don’t you think?” The door opened; the Linker left without waiting for a response.

  The door slid shut. Corazon leaned back; her stubby fingers drummed against her armrest. “Bastard,” she muttered. “I’ll have to go through this with two more people.”

  “Who?” Chen asked listlessly.

  “I really shouldn’t tell you. They should hear it from Ari and me. No one you know well, anyway.”

  Tonie wouldn’t be one of them, then. Chen twisted his hands together. “I can’t go. Tonie Wong and I were going to become bondmates.”

  “I heard. That’s why you were called in now. I can’t tell you what to do about that, but I’d advise against it at this point.” Chen grimaced; advice from a Counselor was as good as a command. “You can’t be expected to keep such promises when you’re separated — one of you would probably want to break the bond sooner or later, and that would be extra trouble and expense you don’t need, and a mark against you on your personal record. Of course, Tonie could ask to return with you. That’s entirely up to her. I think she might be allowed to go, under the circumstances.”

  Chen looked down; he couldn’t ask Tonie to do that. He recalled Ibrahim’s warning. “I’m being punished,” he said. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? I’ve been too friendly to the Habbers. He could have said it instead of making it seem —”

  “Oh, Chen. I wish I could do something for you.” Corazon bit her lip. “I’ll tell you what Ari thinks. He thinks we forget our duty here, that we already think of ourselves as Cytherians instead of as Earthpeople. He thinks we forget that we’re part of the Nomarchies and that Earth still makes the decisions. He even asked me if I might like a trip to Earth. Home, he called it. Home! I’ve never been there, and he knows it. Earth means nothing to me.” She could say that in front of Chen, who knew that he was hardly in a position to repeat it.

  Chen swallowed. He couldn’t accept this; he would have to fight it. He could appeal to Ari, or to the Administrators themselves through the Workers’ Committee; he had the right. But no one would want to argue his case, under the circumstances, and Chen knew that he could never be eloquent enough to argue for himself. He might even ruin any chance of returning by filing a protest. Ari would twist Chen’s words, make it seem that he wasn’t being punished at all and had no reason for complaining; then, after Chen’s appeal was turned down, the rumors would start, and everyone would know why he had been sent away. Rumors were often useful to the Administrators in such cases. Chen would be punished, but no one would ever admit openly that he had been.

  “I’ll make out a report,” Corazon said. “I’ll note that you’ve been a good worker. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you return someday. I guess I haven’t been a good Counselor to you, Chen, or I would have warned you more forcefully, would have insisted —”

  He waited for her to finish the sentence, then realized that even Corazon would not openly admit the truth about his expulsion.

  “You mustn’t despair,” she continued. “Even Ari knows that the good of the Project has to come first, that it makes more sense to bring back experienced workers when we need replacements instead of training new ones. Just do well at whatever job you’re given and don’t give them anything to hold against you, and you’ll come back. You have a lifetime ahead of you — decades.”

  He was mute, thinking of decades of exile, of waiting. He couldn’t bear it.

  “Isn’t there anything you want to ask me, to tell me? Say what you like, Chen. You know that I have to keep it in confidence.”

  Chen rose, suddenly suspicious of the Counselor, unable to tell if she was speaking from the heart or only trying to console him as part of her job. “It’s all right, Corazon. I just have to get used to the idea.”

  In the hour before the dome’s light began to fade into silver, it was the habit of many of the workers to gather on the grassy expanse in front of the steel-blue building where they lived. Parents knelt beside cloths laden with small bowls of food, feeding their young children with chopsticks, spoons, or fingers; others sat mending clothes as they gossiped. Young couples strolled along the white stone path under the watchful eyes of parents or other adults. A few children sat alone, gazing at the writing on their flat pocket screens; one young girl pointed at the words on her screen as she said them aloud for her proud, beaming mother.

  It was easy to tell which workers had only recently arrived on Island Two, for they sat near the entrance to the windowless building, prepared to be the first to find refuge inside. Once during the years Chen had spent on Island Two, the sirens had wailed and the Islanders had run for the nearest buildings, sealing the entrances off and waiting for the repair crew on duty to mend the new puncture a meteorite had made in the dome. Recent arrivals on the Islands often believed that air would rush through such an opening in a great gust, or that the dome might suddenly collapse around them, while in fact a small puncture meant only a slow leak; taking refuge inside a structure was simply an added precaution.

  Chen recalled his own fears when he had heard the sirens sound; he had been on Island Two for less than a year, and had even considered returning to Earth. He glanced at the workers near the entrance as he entered the building; these people were hiding their nervousness, but he saw a few cast furtive glances at the diffuse light overhead. Most of them would have liked to trade places with Chen now; in another year or two, they would lose such fears. The Project would claim them, and they would begin to dream.

  A few women greeted Chen as he moved through the corridor toward his own room; they smiled as they called out their congratulations on his approaching pledge with Tonie. Olaf slapped Chen on the back as he hastened by. Chen bore all of this passiv
ely, wondering how many would still speak to him so readily when they learned that he was going to be sent away. They would all guess the truth about that, no matter what they were told, and draw the proper lesson from his fate.

  Tonie was sitting with Dorcas and Catherine in an open doorway. Dorcas giggled as Catherine held up a gauzy, transparent blouse and sheer pair of panties; Catherine’s pale cheeks grew pink as she looked up and saw Chen.

  “Look what Catherine’s giving me,” Tonie said.

  Catherine shook her blond head. “He wasn’t supposed to see it until after the ceremony.”

  “Let him whet his appetite,” Dorcas said as she rolled her brown eyes. “Not that he hasn’t seen the goods before, but a new wrapping can make all the difference.”

  “Fei-lin came by before,” Tonie said. “He’ll be a witness, but —”

  “I have to talk to you,” Chen said quickly. “Now, alone.”

  The women stood up; Tonie’s smile faded as she gazed at Chen. Catherine, looking worried as she caught Chen’s eye, quickly led Dorcas away.

  The door closed behind Chen and Tonie. “You don’t look very happy about our pledge,” Tonie said, sounding affronted. “Dorcas and Lise are going to give us a party afterward. I was going to ask just the people on your crew and mine, but I think they want to ask more, so I said that was fine as long as we didn’t have to provide the beer and wine for all of them. What do you think?” She did not wait for an answer. “Dorcas and Lise said they’d take care of the extra beer and wine. I guess they’ll expect us to do the same for them later, when they make pledges.”

  Chen sat down across from her, folding his arms. “I have to tell you something.”

  She pouted a little. “Oh, my. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind already.” She shook out the garments Catherine had given her and dropped them on her bed. “Dorcas would never forgive me. She’d probably have the party anyway — she’ll use any excuse for a party.”

  “I haven’t changed my mind,” he said dully.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Tonie stretched out on her bed seductively, leaning on one elbow and arching her back a bit. The gesture, tickled Chen’s memory; Tonie looked exactly like an image he had seen on an erotic tape, almost as if she had studied the image’s postures. “Did that damned Counselor tell you that we can’t have twenty years?”

  “I have to tell you.” He stared at the wall behind her, unable to gaze into her eyes. “They’re sending me back to Earth. Corazon told me today.”

  “Sending you back?” Tonie sat up; her hands fluttered. “But you haven’t asked to go.”

  “They need more room here.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know exactly when. Probably before my next shift on the Bat’s due to start. As soon as a ship’s leaving Anwara.”

  “Oh, Chen. It isn’t fair.”

  He bowed his head. “Corazon said it’s only for a while.” He tried to sound as if he believed that. “She’ll write a good report so I’ll have a good chance to come back.”

  “How long?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t ask? How could you listen to that, and not ask? They can’t do it.”

  Chen raised his head. Tonie’s face crumpled, as if she was about to cry; then her eyes suddenly widened. “Do they expect me to go back with you?”

  He shook his head. “Of course not. We don’t have a bond yet. It wouldn’t matter even if we did. I wouldn’t ask you to come back with me, Tonie. Listen, this doesn’t have to change our plans. We could become bondmates anyway.”

  She drew up her legs. In her slightly baggy shirt, with her thin legs and pretty, pouting face, she looked like a wounded child. “How? How do I know when I’ll see you again?”

  “Corazon said I could be near the top of the list.” He struggled for words. “She doesn’t think we should be bondmates now, but we can still make a pledge. I’d keep my promise for years if I had to. Don’t you see? If I had a bondmate here, they might let me come back sooner. We could even start a child — you could ask Corazon about it. If I had a bondmate and a child here —” Another idea occurred to him. “You could file a protest, say that your bondmate’s being taken from you and that —”

  Her mouth twitched. “How do you know they wouldn’t send me back if we did that? And Corazon doesn’t even want you to make a pledge now. She’d never approve of us having a child, never. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “They’re sending others back. There’ll be more room here.” A lump was forming in his throat. He couldn’t tell her how much he needed her promise now; he might be able to endure Earth if he knew his bondmate and child were still on the Islands. I love you, he thought, and you’re sounding as though you don’t really love me.

  He wasn’t being fair. Tonie was suffering for his deeds; he had to be more considerate of her feelings. He could not ask too much of her.

  “We can modify the contract,” he mumbled. “You could do what you want, even form a second bond with another man if you like while I’m away. A Counselor could write the clauses for us. I wouldn’t ask —”

  “No, no, it wouldn’t work.” She paused. “I don’t want anyone else anyway.” That statement sounded like an afterthought. “Look, it doesn’t make sense to form a bond of any kind now. When you come back — we can make a pledge then. Can’t we?”

  “Oh, Tonie,” he groaned.

  She stood up, holding out her arms. “Chen, you know how much I care about you. Believe me, if I thought — if you could tell me how long I’d have to wait — I could wait for a year, or two years, or maybe even longer. But I don’t know when you’ll come back, or even if you will.”

  “Corazon said —”

  “I don’t care what she said. Without a public statement, her word is useless. You know that.”

  His hope was fading. “There would be a better chance for me if I had a bondmate here.”

  “Chen! I’m only nineteen. We could both change — we might not feel the same way later on.”

  He ground his teeth. “You were willing to pledge twenty years before.”

  “When I thought you would be here, at my side. You fool.” She was now speaking in Chinese. “What do you expect from me? Should I pledge myself to you and risk being sent back too? Do I have to share your fate and lose what I already have? Do I have to be chained to a child?”

  “I thought you wanted one.”

  “Later, not now — not with an absent father.”

  He knew she was right, that his poorly thought-out plan was ridiculous. He would not be here to help raise the child when Tonie was working on one of the Bats; they would not be able to divide the burden. The Island nursery, tended mostly by groups of parents under the direction of Counselors, as well as by workers trained for the task, could not be expected to take on the entire responsibility for a child. Corazon, whatever her sympathies, would never allow Tonie to bear his child in his absence. Tonie saw how things had to be, and he understood that at last, but she might have tried to ease his pain now. Whatever she was losing, she would still have her part in the Project.

  He opened his hand, palm up, as he prepared to speak more gently to the woman he loved.

  Tonie’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “It’s that cursed Habbit. I know it. That’s why they’re sending you away. They’re punishing you, warning the rest of us not to spend any time with them.” She had grasped the truth quickly. Ari, he thought bitterly, would be pleased; Tonie and her friends would spread rumors and warnings for him. “Oh, I knew it. I told you not to talk to that Habber dog and his kind. What can he do for you now?”

  Chen stood up. She wasn’t thinking of him at all.

  “Why didn’t you listen to me?” She was almost screaming now, her face so contorted that it was uglier than he had believed possible. “I’d be mad to become your bondmate now, I’d just be punished along with you. It’s true, isn’t it? That’s why they’re sending you away. It’s bad enough that
I lived with you all these months. What if they begin to think I’m like you? You’ve shamed me, Chen. I warned you, I told you — this is all your own fault. I told you not to —” She shrieked and stumbled back, raising a hand in front of her face.

  He had lifted his arm, making a fist, ready to strike her.

  “Go on, just try it! Do you think I can’t defend myself?”

  He was shaking. Spinning away from her, he struck the wall, bloodying his knuckles.

  “Oh, Chen. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  He ran from the room, thinking with horror of how his hands had nearly betrayed him.

  Chen hurried along the corridors of the workers’ residence, paying no heed to shouted greetings or the grumblings of those he jostled as he passed. He continued on his way until a door at the end of the hall slid open.

  He was outside, in one of the courtyards at the side of the building. This courtyard was a triangle of flat stones bounded on two sides by two wings of the star-shaped building. A few couples had already gathered there; two young people, huddled together in one of the large wicker chairs, looked up at Chen with startled dark eyes as he lurched past them.

  The dome’s light had faded into the silvery glow of an Island evening. A small hill sloped above the courtyard; Chen climbed until he reached the top of the slope, then sank to the grassy ground. From this hill, one of only a few on the otherwise flat Island, he could see much of the building below. A few families still sat near the front entrance; most had already returned to their rooms.

  The Island seemed least like the Earth he remembered at dusk. During an Island day, the chatter or people and the noise of their activities filled the air; at night, a heavy silence blanketed the land under the dome. But in the evening, Chen heard only the intermittent chirp of a cricket. Few birds sang here and no creatures roamed through the wooded grove on the other side of the hill. On Earth, even in its great cities, birds still nested under eaves; dogs and cats roamed and snarled at one another over scraps. The Island seemed as insubstantial as a dream, a place where one could believe that all reality was encompassed by a human mind. At such moments, Chen understood why people needed to root themselves on the Cytherian surface below. Without that goal, the pleasant Islands could become a trap, a closed circle, a place where everything was in balance and nothing would change.