Terra Nova: An Anthology of Contemporary Spanish Science Fiction

by Mariano Villarreal

  Charni was silent for a while, trying to assimilate all that information. It all seemed so logical …

  “But Mama … why didn’t you want Qjem to know that you are queen? You let him think he’s in charge.”

  “Well, it’s always been like that. We don’t know how men organize themselves in the other world or how they live together and prepare themselves to fight. … We really don’t care as long as they fulfill their role. In the same way, they don’t know how we organize ourselves, and they don’t care as long as the balance is maintained.”

  “Yes, but he knew. He textured that he knew. Why not let him know he was right?”

  “So he would believe it’s important to me that he doesn’t know because I’m afraid of what he could do to me. Qjem, like the other elderly men who held the same position before him, is smart. But if I can convince him that I’m worried about him knowing my position in this world, I get two things.

  “First, he thinks that I’m stupid for trying to fool him, so I represent no threat to him or his intellect and of course to his pride. Second, he’ll believe that he has power over me and over other women as well, if he can threaten to take the throne from me or make other women feel lost without their queen and in that way more manageable. He doesn’t understand the implications of the position, and he also doesn’t know that I am the first one who has lasted so long in it.

  “Finally, my child, everything comes down to the same thing. Pride. Or not holding the knife by the blade. Which is precisely what we’re going to have to do with Chaid Khasat. But we must carry it out for the good of all women. Let’s wait a pair of bleeds before ordering him be made to realize how he should behave. If we do it sooner, it might be too suspicious and that could hurt us.”

  Charni’s mouth gaped in surprise and she shook her head to show her confusion.

  “But … but … I thought that …” she began. “Well … you thanked Qjem. I got the impression that you were satisfied and agreed with the way they solved the problem with Chaid.”

  “Chaid became an invalid too soon. At the time, he should have accepted that it’s better to die in battle than to be too weak to fight or simply be a burden on everyone else. But he was a coward. He preferred to keep living in a sorry state than to face up to his responsibility to his people. There are many ways to be an invalid, it’s true. But those who are and arrive here before they get old, soon or later wind up accepting their shame and try to make amends by being the least bothersome as possible or trying to be useful to the other men who form our last line of defense.

  “Yet Chaid has been here for seven cycles and not only is he an authentic nuisance, he isn’t even man enough to admit his own weakness. Instead, he spills his own rage, frustration and shame on all women, physically and brutally. His is an aberration. Obviously one of us women is responsible for having brought such a weak warrior as him into the world, but since we’ll never know who produced him, we can’t hold all women responsible and make us all pay for it this way.

  “But there’s more. We ought to be especially careful with him because he’s not only brutal, he’s shown that he can be as insidious as a woman. That is, he knows how to use some of our weapons. So it’s logical to think that the justice Qjem did won’t be enough to stop him. No. If I were in his place, men’s justice wouldn’t stop me either. So just like us, he’ll say he is guilty although he doesn’t believe it. He’ll move slowly and carefully, and he’ll be patient, very patient, and when he feels sure he’s fooled everyone, he’ll act again, but cautiously, so no one can accuse him of anything again. Oh … I’m sure of it.

  “Now, as good Ksatrya women, we’ll be patient too. We’ll make him believe that his punishment satisfied us, we’ll make him feel comfortable and safe, we’ll keep it to ourselves when he does something barbaric, and once we’re sure that the rest of the men don’t know we’re at his side, he’ll wind up lowering his guard, and then and only then will we make him face facts.”

  And in fact, it all happened just as her mother had predicted. Three bleeds of the queen later, Chaid Khasat was made to face reason: a spectacular fall left him in bed and unable to move for more than a half a cycle.

  Of course, the women who cared for him with complete devotion and fuss made sure that his recovery was not as fast as it might have been.

  No man accused any woman of having provoked the accident. They simply assumed that Chaid Khasat had been too clumsy, since women had previously fallen and hurt themselves in the same place, although with more minor injuries.

  They also did not think to ask the women who cared for him why it took so long for his bones to knit and for him to recover. They simply assumed that his bones were as weak as Khasat himself.

  And of course Kesha, who had asked Qjem a couple of times to do something about that place before someone else hurt themselves (as Chaid eventually did), enthusiastically thanked him once the work was finished.

  If Qjem had any doubts about her, he did not show them. What’s more, he agreed to be the assistant in Charni’s initiation ritual.

  Just as the queen had planned.

  Between classes and practice sessions, time flew like a sigh. Charni never found the right moment to ask her mother about the questions that tormented her about the unexpected existence of other sisters. In fact, it took her a long time to realize that there would never be the right moment.

  She had found time to investigate by herself, although it was not easy at first. No matter how delicate she was with her questions, no adult felt comfortable enough to give her answers. In the end, the response was always the same: Dear, it’s best to ask your mother.

  They were right. After all, what they could tell her would be a partial perception of the issue, possibly distorted by the passage of time. The person who was most involved, who had experienced it first-hand, was her mother. Still, Charni suspected that if she had never brought up the subject, it was more than probable that it was as painful for her as it was shameful.

  At times Charni could not keep from asking herself whether her mother’s insistence on her becoming queen was nothing more than a desire to find redemption via her daughter. Or, perhaps, to eliminate any doubt about the information she had inside her.

  Charni had no doubt that there was no madness within her, although from what Deva had said, it did not have to be something she could feel. The madness could be asleep and some personal event might awaken it, the way it seemed to have happened in the case of her two older sisters. Both perfectly healthy, both totally in accord with Ksatrya women’s feelings.

  Yet something that she had been told made her doubtful. No one had ever given a thought to the possibility that part of the guilt might lie in the men with whom both sisters had … failed. Why? Was it so improbable that in addition to pride, Ksatrya women transmitted the information of madness, for example? Why was it so logical to think it was always women’s fault? Why make them responsible and distressed over every failure?

  Of course, she never asked other women those questions. Not even Deva or her mother. Oh, no, above all not her mother. As Charni understood it, questions were the forerunner to madness, and she did not wish to frighten or worry her mother. In the end, they were only questions, right? At no time did it pass through her mind to take her own life or betray the Ksatrya women. So they did not seem to be anything like the symptoms of her older sisters.

  Qalja, after her first aberration, had quickly produced a girl who lived for four cycles, developing at a normal rate like any other girl … before a strange condition made it hard for her to breathe and killed her. That upset Qalja so much and made her feel so guilty, certain that there was something wrong with herself, that she decided to take her own life to save herself the suffering of a possible third aberration.

  But why did Qalja think that it was all her fault, even her daughter’s death? She herself had suffered from that same condition and recovered, so why did she think her daughter was weak instead of thinking she was
not sufficiently developed to get well? Had she not also produced a strong and healthy man? Was she the only one who had produced aberrations? Well? What had brought her to such a drastic decision?

  Charni had a suspicion that she also did not dare to share with anyone. The person closest to her sister at that time was Lain, Latha’s mother. Was it crazy to think that Lain had begun hating Charni’s mother even before she had learned about this, and that words with a hidden message had spilled death into Qalja and eliminated one more obstacle to reaching her objective?

  Yes. Maybe that was it. Maybe Charni had begun to think the same twisted way that she had perceived in her mother during the last twelve cycles. And yet …

  Then there was the case of her older sister, who was called Kesha like her mother, devoted to the cause, the best Ksatrya woman of all. Smart and the most sought-after by men to help them see, she had produced two men when she was only fourteen cycles old.… It seemed she was going to follow in the footsteps of her mother, the newly proclaimed queen. And yet, when she was sixteen cycles old, she was accused of betrayal and exiled to the other world to suffer the torments there forever.

  And that was the part that Charni did not understand well.

  From time to time men asked for women to take with them to the other world to help them see while they had to fight battles in some remote place. They went so far, far away that if they were not accompanied by Ksatrya women, they could lose their sight because they could not get back home in time to satisfy their member.

  It was the job of the queen to decide who ought to suffer the punishment of accompanying them and living far from the protection of other women. But what woman deserved to have her skin burn or never discover her place in a world where there were no limits, a world where she could not go to the queen to make men accept reason in case one of them was weak and broke the code? How many betrayals would it take to have to atone for them in such a savage way? Charni doubted it was like that.

  Then … what had her sister done to deserve it? Had it been some kind of ruse by her mother to show that she would not be weak when it came to doing justice with her daughters?

  Someone had said that her older sister had betrayed them by falling in love with a man and making him fall in love with her, too. Charni did not understand the concept, but was it so horrible that deserved a sentence like that?

  “What are you thinking about, my child?” she felt from her mother as she was passing by.

  Charni was silent for a moment. Had the moment finally arrived? No. It would never be the right time, but enough time had passed to try it. After the next sleep, her initiation ritual would take place. With a little luck, she would produce her first life and she would finally become an adult. She was earning the right to be treated like one.

  “Why haven’t you ever talked to me about my other sisters?” she dared to ask.

  “Well,” her mother answered calmly, “you’ve taken longer than I expected to ask me that. I thought I had textured well to you that you shouldn’t fear anyone or anything.”

  “You knew? For how long?”

  “From the moment when you went to school, it was only a question of time before some girl told you about it to try hurt you. But the biggest hint was to feel how you were involved in helping your younger sister learn, insisting that she recognize you and remember you.”

  “But … why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because that was part of what you needed to learn.”

  “What I needed to learn? What?”

  “I perceive that you’re angry. Understandable, but you need to make a bigger effort not to show it so much.”

  “Mama, please, could you stop acting like a queen and be my mother for once?”

  “Charni, don’t be a little girl. Everything I do and say is as your mother because I only want what’s best for my daughter. Because of who you are, whether you wind up being a queen or not, you’re going to be the object of envy and trickery. I only want you to be strong and learn for yourself how to use the means to survive in this world because, young woman, this has only just begun. After your ritual of initiation, everything is going to be different from what you’ve lived until now. The competition will be brutal. Being an adult isn’t easy, Charni, not at all.”

  “I know that.”

  “No, you don’t. Believe me.”

  “Fine, you’re right. As you’ve taught me, talking about what you don’t know or haven’t perceived first-hand leads to self-deception or lies. But what does this have to do with not telling me about my sisters?”

  “More than you think. To begin with, what isn’t spoken of tells us more than what is spoken of. In the same way, if you want to learn about something, it’s good to investigate it, but in the end you have to stop beating around the bush, no matter how uncomfortable it may turn out. And finally, the connections you create with other women will be key to your development as a person. It’s important to chose wisely. Qalja got bad advice. As for Kesha … it was a terrible deceit.”

  “Then I was right. … Lain caused Qalja’s death, right?”

  “I can’t prove it, but I’m sure of it. Ever since she was a child, Qalja was very sensitive and too easily influenced, and she could never fit in. Lain was your sister’s bedmate, the same way Nanji was for you in practicing body exploration. Qalja confused this complicity with friendship. But the links between body and mind are different. Although you trust Nanji, something tells me that when Deva officially becomes a young woman, you’ll make her your mentor, am I wrong?”

  “Of course I will. Deva is my best friend. But what does this have to do with my sister?”

  “Kesha never had anyone like Deva. She never had a connection with any other girl. She was too suspicious, too anxious. … In the end, she was too bright, too clever to let herself be fooled by the rest of the girls and eventually she asked questions that no one else had ever asked … or had ever wanted to ask. And when she realized that men saw better with her and constantly chose her, she thought she was special and had the right to chose.”

  “Strange. That’s not what I’ve learned. From what I understand, the problem was that she fell in love. I don’t know what that means, but …”

  “To fall in love means having two feelings that are opposite to the philosophy of balance of Ksatrya women: selfishness and pride. Selfishness is harmful but treatable, but pride is completely intolerable. It’s already so hard to deal with in men that we can’t allow a woman to develop it. To fall in love with a woman is perfectly normal, and it can be tolerated because in spite of involving those two feelings, it doesn’t upset the balance. To fall in love with a man is treason. Period.”

  “I … I don’t understand.”

  “A woman who falls in love with a man is selfish and will do everything she can to make sure that he only spills information in her. But the information belongs to everyone, and that is beyond discussion or debate. On the other hand, a woman who falls in love believes she’s better than any other woman in general, so she has the right to chose only one man to spill in her and will do everything she can to make sure other men can’t spill in her. That is unacceptable. We’re all equal, and the same things happen to all of us, without exception. In short, to fall in love means being selfish enough to refuse to share a man’s information and at the same time to be so proud that you think you’re special and won’t let other men have access to your information.”

  “But how does something like this start? How can it be avoided?” Charni began to feel nervous. She felt her stomach in her mouth.

  “To begin with, don’t have conversations with men, don’t talk to them as if they were a woman who you’d feel satisfied with sharing experiences. But above all, never, never ask them why about whatever they decide to tell you, because that might make them interested in your opinions. A Ksatrya woman never has an opinion or discussion with a man, never talks with him and even less if he’s spilled three times with her in a short period of ti
me. If that happens, you obligation is to let us know so that we can make sure that you won’t coincide with him in the next turn for spilling. Have you textured that well?”

  Charni agreed while she tried to keep her body from trembling up and down. Was it true then? She was crazy?

  “What’s the matter?” her mother asked.

  It was hard for her to speak, to organize her thoughts. She felt more afraid than she ever had before. Afraid for herself and for what her mother might think.

  “What is it?” her mother asked again, worried.

  “Mama … I … I think I’m in love.”

  “With who?”

  “With Qjem. But it’s not my fault! You told me to get close to him, to attend to him, to make him interested in being my assistant in the ritual. And I did this. Not only did I serve him and help him in his tasks, I talked with him. I did everything that you said I shouldn’t do. I had opinions.”

  To Charni’s surprise, her mother broke into laughter. Then she hugged her tight and comforted her with caresses and kisses.

  “Oh Charni, Charni … I doubt you’ve done anything like that. If you have, we won’t have the ritual on the first hunger of the coming term. Let’s sit down. I’m going to ask you three questions. If you answer ‘no’ to all three sincerely, you’re not in love. Ready? First question: does it bother you when Qjem spills information in me or another woman?”

  “No. That’s normal.”

  “Aha. Second question: Would it bother you if someone who wasn’t Qjem served as your assistant?”

  “No. I know that whoever you chose for me would be the best. I don’t doubt that at all.”

  “Good. Third question. Has Qjem emptied information in you and did you enjoy it?”