Terra Nova: An Anthology of Contemporary Spanish Science Fiction

by Mariano Villarreal

  “What do you want, Latha?”

  “What a tone of voice. Has becoming a young woman so early gone to your head? Does it bother you to talk to a girl? Or have you finally decided to texture yourself as you really are? You can’t fool me. You’re as big a liar as your mother.”

  Charni sighed, tired. No, she wasn’t going to get dragged into that game, although …

  “Of course, Latha. Only a master of deceit like you would be able to spot a novice like me. I was foolish to try.”

  “Joke all you want now, and I’ll let you because no one is perceiving us, but I’m going to texture something to you very well. You might be a young woman, but I’ll never let you be queen. You carry the information of insanity in your blood and I won’t let you drag us all down with it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t act dumb. My mother told me about your sister.”

  “What do you know about my little sister if she hasn’t even left the house yet?”

  “Not that sister, stupid. I mean your crazy sister. The one who was banished from this world so that she would suffer the killing storms of the unlimited world for betraying the Ksatrya women.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I only have one sister.”

  “Really?”

  She came so near that Charni’s nose was flooded by Latha’s breath. Charni felt her so close that she perceived the threat and disdain with a thoroughness she had never noted before in her enemy.

  “Do you want me to believe that you don’t know anything? That you believe you’re the first girl your mother produced? Ha! Maybe she was the one who pronounced the sentence that silenced all the protests, so that now women don’t even talk about it in private, but I can’t believe that she hasn’t warned you about the information that you carry inside. That she didn’t tell you about your crazy sister, or that she took her own life after she produced two aberrations. I told you, you aren’t fooling me. You can’t fool me. You’ve been warned, Charni. Maybe I won’t wind up being queen, but I won’t make it easy for you to become queen, either. For the good of the Ksatrya women, I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.”

  Finally, Latha backed away and left without another word. Charni, unable to move, was glad that her now-declared enemy preferred sounds to textures or else she would have noticed the tears that were running down Charni’s cheeks.

  But why had Latha’s lies hurt so much? Why had her body reacted to Latha’s rage that way instead of being like Deva and conclusively showing her rejection? And, most importantly, why did she continue to feel so bothered and confused even though she no longer perceived Latha’s presence?

  She cleaned her face, recovered her dignity, and continued home while her head could not stop turning over all those lies that somehow seemed more important than they were. Impossible.

  When she arrived at the entrance to her house, she unexpectedly ran into the back of a man. Because it could not possibly be a woman. Not only because of his size, his smell, and the sound that his feet made as if he were dragging them … above all, because she had run into him.

  Women learned from when they were small to walk in the world confidently —but also delicately. As if they flowed through the vast space that surrounded their existence.

  Of course there were surprise encounters from time to time and the occasional blow, but not as if they were running into a wall, which was what bumping into a man resembled most. Men stood still, stiff, with a firm foothold on the ground as if their lives depended on it instead of giving way to the blow and letting themselves move.

  “I’m sorry,” Charni immediately said.

  If there was one thing that her mother had taught her, she should always, always be the first to excuse herself when she ran into a man, and if necessary, take the blame. Otherwise she might remind him that he had lost his sight and could never return to the other world, and men did not like that.

  Besides, men had a feeling called pride that was fairly easily activated when they were made to feel stupid or weak in some way, however absurd the reason seemed to women.

  “Are you entering or leaving?” she asked next.

  Of course the man meant to enter, but one way to lessen his pride, for example after running into a man like that, was to make them feel that she was at least as lost as they were.

  Charni sometimes wondered why there was this sense of danger whenever she was told about men’s pride, but something inside her said it was better to never find out.

  “I’m going in, inside,” he answered promptly.

  From the sound that his feet made when he walked and what little she could perceive when she touched his skin, Charni was sure that he was one of those men called elderly. This, together with his unique scent and the sound of his voice, made him seem familiar.

  “Then,” Charni added to finish off the strategy to calm this feeling called pride and at the same time reinforce his confidence, “if it doesn’t bother you, I’ll enter behind you.” She put her hand on the back of the elderly man as if that were necessary to walk safely into her own house.

  “I see that,” he said, using that strange word that men liked so much. “Don’t let go of me.”

  Charni felt the back of the elderly man become straight, tense, as if he were on guard, as if he were protecting the most valuable thing in the world. And that, in spite of the irony and the falsehood, filled her with happiness and a strange sense of … security.

  Maybe blind men were clumsy and useless in that world, but when they were not upset over some foolish thing, they could transmit pleasant sensations that only men knew how to make. Emotions that not even her mother, as protective as she was at times, could manage to create.

  “Kesha?” he called a little uncertainly. “Kesha!”

  Charni felt sorry for him. Of course her mother was at home. She was the queen, where she needed to be. Was it true that men could not perceive that the noise or the mix of scents in a closed space was more intense when there were other beings in it?

  She shook he head. She did not want to think about it. Although she could not understand how men’s fifth sense worked and what it meant to them to lose it, the mere idea that she might suffer something similar with one of her four senses made her feel terrified.

  “Qjem?” her mother answered, also worried. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you so soon. Come in, come in.”

  What a lot of lies in just one moment. How did her mother make it sound so natural to imply that she was clumsy and foolish?

  To begin with, if she had called him by name, it meant that she had recognized him. If not, she would have asked Who are you? or simply have said Identify yourself if it were a woman who had visited her. Without a doubt, she was using the same polite expressions as Charni so she wouldn’t make him feel vulnerable or proud.

  As for the second lie, she had perceived her mother’s impatience two terms after the other women had told her about Chaid Khasat. In fact, her mother had spent alarms waiting for Qjem! How could she make her voice sound so calm and absent-minded? And Charni knew it specifically involved this elderly man because she had often heard her say (and curse) Qjem’s name.

  “Mother,” she said, using the proper form of address for when they had visitors, “I’m home.”

  “Oh, my daughter. Come here. Greet your mother.”

  Interesting.

  Normally she ought to wait until the visitors had left, but with that gesture her mother not only showed that she wanted her present, but after the greeting she wrote on her skin to stay. Charni guessed she did that because the man would not notice she was there.

  Incredible.

  He had perceived her many times and had just perceived her now, and still she could not fail to be surprised. How was it actually possible that men could not sense more than one presence in a room unless it made a noise so loud that even her sister in the n
ext room could hear it?

  “Forgive me, Qjem, for not attending to you immediately, but I needed to feel my daughter and make sure she was well. Please sit wherever you want. This is your house, as you know.”

  “I’d prefer to remain standing,” he said while he attempted to localize Kesha’s voice to get as close as possible. “And don’t worry, I’ve often observed that women love to hug each other. Besides, we’re talking about your daughter. So take your time.”

  Observe, another word men used a lot. Curse it, when would they let her learn about men’s language and not just the words that they all shared?

  Her mother wrote on her skin to stay quiet and make not a single sound. Then she said to the old man: “Thank you, Qjem. But please, tell me if you’ve come here with a solution for what I’ve told you about.”

  “To begin with, Kesha, I want to make it clear that I would never take something like that lightly. A Ksatrya is not merely faithful to his code, he protects his women because you are weak and vulnerable, but also valuable.”

  Charni felt her heart race and her face grow red. Weak? Weak? Since when? Wasn’t it thanks to women that the men who lived in this world did not die of hunger, illness, or madness? They could not take care of themselves or learn to cook, wash, clean, or simply walk through the world without breaking things that they passed on their way. They only knew how to shout, fight, and spill information, as if they were two-cycle-old girls who were afraid to be away from their mothers for a long time. Why, curse it, wouldn’t his mother set him straight?

  Her mother immediately noticed that her daughter was tense and, with a caress, urged her to calm down.

  “A Ksatrya who breaks this rule,” Qjem carried on, “not only ceases to be a man but is worse than an animal, and we will not tolerate it. Imagine how difficult it is for someone like me to believe that one of us is capable of something like that. I have no reason to doubt you, but based on my experience, I know how women are naturally insidious and vengeful, so I have my concerns. And although I know you have nothing in common with the women I’ve seen outside, I know it’s your nature, and I can’t ignore it.

  “So, since it was possible to commit a terrible mistake against an innocent man, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. Believe me when I tell you that I was the first person who wanted to solve this as soon as possible, whether it involved an injustice or such a brutal act. So I ordered my men to watch him for several days, but he did nothing suspicious. Still, because I believe you and see no reason why you would lie to me, I rebuked him and, just the same, gave him the opportunity to defend himself. He accepted it and lost. I can assure you that it was humiliating for him and if he ever did something like you told me, I don’t think he will do it again. Ever.”

  Both women remained silent, Charni to be unnoticed and her mother to be sure Qjem had finished talking. Then, very calmly and gently, she said:

  “Thank you, Qjem, really. Thank you for what you’ve done and the time you invested in this issue. I understand how difficult it must have been for you to make a decision like this, and I appreciate that you’ve been so considerate. Forgive my ignorance, but there’s one thing that I didn’t understand. He accepted it and lost? Does that mean he admitted he was guilty? Please, I don’t understand everything. Would you be kind enough to explain it to me in words that a woman like me could understand?”

  “I offered him a fight with our best warriors to show his innocence. If he had been innocent he would have won, or he would have fought to the death rather than admit defeat. We did justice two weeks ago. I didn’t come here earlier because I was waiting for his wounds to heal and to tell you that although you might see him here, there’s nothing to fear. I’m not stupid, Kesha. I might not know how you organize things down here, but I’ve noticed that it’s always you who comes and tells me about the problems of other women. So I imagine that in spite of your simplicity, you are capable of organizing yourselves with leaders and that you’re one of them. Although I didn’t think I needed to come and explain anything to you, I thought I ought to. Problem solved.”

  “Let me thank you again not just for what you’ve done but also for troubling yourself to come here. Although, Qjem, I’m not a leader in the sense that I think you mean. Women simply trust me and tell me their problems. I don’t know why. And since I’m such a blabbermouth I can’t be quiet when I’m around you.”

  “Whatever you say,” he replied after a grunt. “I’ll let you play your games. Just this one time.”

  “I appreciate your respect for me. I assure you I won’t forget it. You’re a good man, Qjem Sath, and that makes me feel attracted to you. Would you like to satisfy your member with me? I know I’m not as attractive as I used to be, but …”

  “I would,” he interrupted while he clumsily tried to find her.

  Writing quickly, Kesha told Charni to go far enough away to cause no problems, but to be close enough to perceive what would happen next.

  Noises, panting, and a scent that grew stronger and stronger filled the room. Charni, as usual, could not decide if it was disagreeable or strange. Unusual but familiar at the same time. Still, unlike what had taken place other times with other visitors (something that did not happen often in recent cycles), it was not fast. And Charni got bored quickly. With all the questions that she wanted to ask her mother …

  Eventually: the final grunt, the final sigh, and the sound of feet dragging on the ground. And then they were truly alone.

  Charni drew close to her mother, who had taken out the cloth for blood and was wiping it between her legs. She curled up as usual on her lap.

  “What’s the spilling of information like?” she asked.

  “It’s something I can’t explain to you, Charni. You have to experience it for yourself. I can only tell you that not everyone perceives it the same way, and with a little luck and patience, I’ll get Qjem Sath to be the one for your initiation ritual. He’s elderly, which means that his information is powerful, and for a man he’s smart. He’s the best option for you.”

  “What I don’t understand is why, if you’re queen, you let him talk like that to you. Why do you act is if you were one of the assistants that come to our house?”

  “Oh, Charni, you’re a young woman, but you still need a few cycles and a couple of productions to be an adult. Everything is based on perceptions. Men are born in this world, but at a half-cycle, they’re taken to the other one. There, everything is wild and brutal. And they don’t just need a fifth sense, they need a thick contour. Have you perceived Qjem’s? Even though he’s elderly, his muscles are many times bigger than ours. Our contour is not like that. The opposite, in fact. When you touch us, you can feel our bones, something that I’m sure you have never felt in men, right? From their point of view, we’re the weak ones because we couldn’t survive in the cruel world where they live for cycles and cycles. From our point of view, they are the weak ones because they couldn’t exist without our help.”

  “Of course. Physically we’re weak compared to them, but as they themselves say, we’re valuable. But I didn’t perceive that consideration in Qjem’s tone of voice. Not for a moment. In fact, I seemed to sense … contempt. As if it bothered him not only to come here but simply to have to talk to you. And you … you talked to him as if you had to thank him just for letting you breathe.”

  Her mother sighed, then held her even tighter against her chest. Then she began to caress her arms to show affection and at the same time to ask for patience.

  “Yes.” She sighed again. “I suppose the moment has arrived for you to know how the world works. Well. Let’s feel this together. There is a kind of balance between women and men. They protect us, and we help them see. They bring us food from the other world, and we make sure than those who live in this one do not die from hunger. Without men there would be no spilling of information and we couldn’t produce women. Without women, they could spill, but it would be useless wasted information, and they would have no way to
keep up the number of guards. But this balance is fragile, and it is our duty to maintain it any way we have to because we’re really the ones responsible for this fragility.”

  Charni tensed her muscles at the final sounds and textures that her mother had transmitted. Had women done something wrong? How?

  “Yes, Charni. Feel it. Men are the best weapon and protection we have against the other world, and yet in our desire to produce the strongest and most able warriors, the most honorable of all, we transmit the information of pride to them. Without a doubt it’s the best way for a Ksatrya man to achieve his goal, and yet it can also be his biggest weakness. So we have to take both the blame and the responsibility for having created such a powerful weapon. If it’s not carefully managed, it could turn against us. That’s why we treat our men with such pampering and care. If you never put your finger on the blade of a knife that you hold tight in your hand, you’ll never cut yourself with it. And really, that’s a small price to pay compared to the benefits we get: safety, protection, food, production …”

  “Right.” Charni managed to relax herself enough. “I think I understand. But … I get the sensation that Qjem —and I suppose the rest of the men— don’t perceive it that way. Worse, he called us insidious and vengeful. I don’t know what the first word means, but I understand they look down on us with it. I also don’t like the comparison with women in the other world.”

  “But it’s true, Charni. We are insidious and vengeful. In what other way do you think we could fight the women who are our enemies and who we can’t perceive from this world?”

  “Women enemies?”

  “Of course. Who do you think we fight against? Men say that they fight other men, but we understand that the real enemies are the women who produce these men. Try to imagine it, Charni. To live in a wild and dangerous world without limits. I’d also do everything I could to conquer this one, with its safe limits. But since they remain incapable of producing men with pride, we don’t have to worry … for now. I don’t want to think about what it would mean if one of those women got the information about pride from one of our men and could begin to produce men like that herself.”