Gemsigns

by Stephanie Saulter

  Donal grimaced an acknowledgement, even as he shook his head. ‘Yeah, but it’s no’ a sure thing. Depends if it comes easy. I c’n usually hear if it doan’t.’

  ‘And you don’t think it comes easy to me.’

  ‘No, but tha’ doan’t make you one o’ the good guys.’

  ‘No, I suppose it doesn’t.’ Eli looked around at them. ‘I hope you’ll decide I am, but I can’t promise.’

  Aryel nodded, and took over with an ease that made him blink. He had apparently passed whatever test had just been set. For the next hour, as they sat around the big table, she deftly routed his questions between herself and the other three. He realised with a mixture of surprise and appreciation that he was not getting any sort of prepared party line: Wenda, Donal and Horace all had markedly different personalities, and a range of opinions to match. But they would each, he thought, have happily accepted a role as witness, and allowed Aryel to answer every question without complaint.

  She was having none of it. She had clearly decided it was important for him to hear the full range of views on every issue he raised, and had set herself the task of managing the conversation to ensure that every split and nuance was on display. It was a shockingly brave strategy, and part of his mind was busy trying to figure out why she would run the risk of allowing her people to appear fragmented, even as he admired the way she drew them all out.

  She was gentlest with Wenda, which he initially found odd. The big woman appeared menacing, her powerful form taut with anger. But her belligerence was belied not only by a speech impediment, but by a desperate shyness and a bewilderment at finding herself consequential enough to be asked important questions. Eli could see her eyes widen and her brows crease in concentration as she struggled to organise her thoughts. As she grew embarrassed and self-conscious Aryel stepped in, absorbing the attention while keeping Wenda focused, leading the discussion back to her when she was ready to have her say.

  Donal needed no such support. He was clever, quick-witted and convinced that gems faced a complicated web of norm conspiracies designed to deceive and subjugate. Aryel let him have his head. Eli wondered why she wanted him to hear Donal’s series of increasingly far-fetched theories; then observed how intently Wenda listened, and how Horace rolled his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

  Horace lacked Wenda’s hesitation, Donal’s acerbic certitude or Aryel’s calm rationality. He spoke easily but seemed, Eli thought, to have the least to say. He had an almost childish conviction that everything would turn out all right in the end, as long as they didn’t make too much of a fuss. It was Donal’s turn to snigger, which he did with far less concern about being noticed. Privately, Eli agreed. Horace, for all his polish, bore the hallmarks of long servitude in a sheltered environment. That background and the acquiescence which often accompanied it were not atypical, but neither were they well adapted to the current circumstances.

  He thought he understood what Aryel was doing, showing him the range of their differences and disagreements. In responding to the questions he posed she was putting the diversity of the gem community on display. It was a complicated, counterintuitive manoeuvre, and he wondered what she hoped to achieve. Maybe she simply wanted to counteract the perception of gems as homogeneous and simplistic, but he sensed there was more to it than that. She seemed too astute to be taking such a risk simply to set the record straight. Behind her poised handling of the meeting, the deep respect with which the others treated her and her own clearly articulated responses, he sensed layers and layers of meaning. A ferocious intelligence was at work, guiding a complex series of calculations that might give even Zavcka Klist pause.

  7

  He was even more sure of it later, as they walked along a passage at the back of the building. It was lined with windows that let in the weak winter sunlight and a panoramic view of the Squats, all the way down to the gillung lodges on the quayside. Aryel pointed out the solar collectors and described the rooftop allotments, water capture and waste reclamation facilities.

  ‘When this estate was built there was a real fad for sustainable living,’ she explained. ‘We were able to repair and build on what was already here. It’s given the community something useful to do, developed new skills and a sense of independence. I know people think we cost more than we contribute, but that’s not what we want. We’d much prefer to be fully normalised, employed, tax-paying citizens. In the meantime we’re living in as self-sufficient a way as we possibly can.’

  ‘It’s very impressive. I imagine it must rankle when norms think gems don’t have that kind of aspiration. Or ability. Zavcka Klist certainly doesn’t think so. Or does she? I should ask Donal.’

  ‘I already have. He says, and I quote, that she believes her own bullshit.’

  The rain had intensified into a grey curtain that blurred and washed the buildings together. It reminded him of his earlier jolt when she had come into focus in the dark meeting room, and he tried once again to apologise. She waved it away as a moment of no consequence, but then cocked her head to look up at him as they walked side by side.

  ‘I confess I was a little surprised by your surprise,’ she said. ‘You didn’t search out any pictures? Most do.’

  ‘Just the vidclip that was attached to your profile. It wasn’t very clear.’ It doesn’t do you justice. ‘Beyond that, no. I just … I always sort of think that’s cheating.’

  She nodded approval. ‘I agree. Presumably you wouldn’t do so when meeting another norm, so why a gem? I would rather,’ she said, as they reached the end of the corridor and turned to pace back, ‘deal with a moment of genuine discomfort than the contrived not-noticing I often get.’

  He wondered which she had got from Rob. He was a true egalitarian, but so much at pains to make sure he treated everyone the same it could sometimes stray into farce. He was glad he had insisted on coming alone. Rob would have tried too hard to smooth out the awkward moments.

  ‘I’m not sure all the others feel the same way. Horace for instance.’

  She shook her head. ‘Horace hates conflict. He was contracted out to a company who, by his reckoning, treated him well – as long as things were going well. When they weren’t, a bit of snideness crept in. The condescension started to show. So he tries very hard to avoid any sort of friction because that, in his experience, is when people start to be mean.’

  ‘And Donal?’

  ‘Donal is like me in that he dislikes hypocrisy – and he’s far more aware of it than most of us. He’s unlike me – and Horace – in that he tends to assume the worst in people. You’re guilty until proved innocent with Don.’

  ‘He was treated badly.’

  ‘He was treated badly, both in crèche and out in the world. The welfare inspections started when he was still too young to have been sent to work, so he got a full-on demonstration of how deceitful the system could be – concerned citizens coming in and being shown around this happy home for extraordinary children, which turned back into a hellhole once they’d left. But he could hear the doubt in their voices, he knew they’d talked themselves into believing the lie, and he never forgave that. Then when he was indentured he got an earful of the lies norms tell each other.’

  Eli winced. ‘So his cynicism is justified.’

  ‘He certainly thinks so.’

  He hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘And Wenda?’

  They had reached the far end of the corridor again, and she turned and stopped, resting her bulging back against the wall as though for support and looking at him over folded arms. The watery light washed her face and throat.

  ‘You’ve been studying us for a long time,’ she said. ‘You’re the expert. What do you think Wenda’s story is?’

  ‘I …’ he stopped, ran a hand through his hair. He felt gauche and uncertain, as if he were probing into family secrets best left buried. ‘Is it all right for us to be talking about them? I mean, are you sure they wouldn’t mind?’

  ‘If they did I wouldn’t do i
t.’

  ‘Right. Well then.’ He thought about Wenda: the physicality of the woman, the combination of bashfulness and ferocity, the difficulty she had expressing herself and the sense of inarticulate despair that surrounded her like a fog. ‘I think she was a surrogate.’

  Aryel nodded. ‘Yes. And how many babies do you suppose she carried?’

  ‘She’s in her forties, I’d guess … and maybe some multiples, so … around ten?’

  ‘Try fifteen.’

  Eli swallowed hard, watching her face as she spoke.

  ‘That’s live births. More if you count the failed embryos, the miscarriages and abortions.’

  ‘So they kept her pregnant for …’ He shook his head at the enormity of it. ‘What, twenty-five years? And the children?’

  ‘Left with her to nurse for three to six months. Then removed so they could start another cycle.’

  Eli closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the glass. He couldn’t look at her. She spoke without anger, the violation quietly recounted as though to a visitor from a land so foreign they might not comprehend such barbarity. The compassion in her voice was more searing than a denunciation.

  ‘Wenda could be any of our mothers. Practically speaking most of us can be certain she’s not, because of our ages and where we were and where she was. But the point is she could be – most of us will have started life inside someone just like her – and for some of us, she actually might be. You’ve got the gemtech datastreams, you must realise that she’s one of the more competent, well-adjusted surrogates. Most of the others are far more broken than she is.’

  He knew this, but it had never struck him to the quick before. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

  ‘What for, Eli? It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘I know. I’m still sorry.’

  He straightened up, meeting her eyes, readying himself to pose the next question. She waited for it, but he found himself unable to speak or even to move, caught like an insect between the grey glass behind him and that piercing blue gaze. He ran his tongue over dry lips.

  ‘I’d like to ask about you, but I’m told you don’t speak about your past.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘That seems pretty inconsistent with how freely you discuss the others.’

  ‘The others understand my reasons. Their entire lives, from the moment of conception to their leaving indenture, have been recorded in detail. That’s useful to someone like you, and depending on what people like you do with the information it may end up being useful to us; but that doesn’t make it less intrusive. They’ll allow me to talk about things that you’d be able to determine anyway, knowing that I will at least put a human face on the data. But as for me—’ She paused, gazing out at the rain. ‘I am lucky enough to have something most gems can only dream of, and that is an element of privacy. It’s rare and precious and they are happy for me to hang on to it for as long as I can.’

  ‘How long will that be? You’re a public figure in a way few others are. And you’re about to become even more so. Don’t you think that sharing your own story – which I can only imagine must be exceptional – would win you support?’

  ‘I don’t want superficial sympathy. We already have a lot of that and I’m not convinced anything tangible will come of it. We all have our tragedies, our personal histories of grief. Mine is no more or less profound than anyone else’s.’

  ‘You’re a living example of how well a gem who hasn’t been through the indenture system can function.’

  He’d meant it as a counterpoint, a way of reminding her that the little that was known only emphasised her difference from other gems. It was a distinction he imagined she would wish to avoid. She took his clever riposte and flipped it on its head.

  ‘Exactly.’

  She stepped away from the wall and they moved back along the row of windows again. She seemed to think she might have been too abrupt, because when she spoke again she was gentle.

  ‘For what it’s worth,’ she said, ‘the fact that you can have such sorrow for Wenda leads me to suspect that you may indeed be one of the good guys.’

  He barked out a harsh laugh. ‘Don’t be too sure.’ He stared straight ahead, feeling her look up but not wanting to meet her eyes. He had been putting it off for hours, so intrigued by this magnetic, malformed woman that he was loath to do anything that might disrupt this strange simpatico they were developing. He reminded himself sternly that he had a job to do.

  ‘I was given something, on the train,’ he said finally. ‘You haven’t asked about it.’

  ‘It’s the reason you’re here. I assumed you’d get to it eventually.’

  ‘It’s not the only reason. I would have wanted to meet you anyway, see for myself how the community is functioning, but it made it … imperative.’ He sighed. ‘At least to my way of thinking. Bel’Natur would probably not agree.’

  She understood immediately. ‘So the redoubtable Zavcka Klist doesn’t expect you to share with me what she shared with you.’

  ‘I can’t imagine she would. And I wish I didn’t have to.’ He looked down at her, reluctantly. ‘She’s shown me something. I can’t ignore it, and I don’t think it’s fair for it to be sprung on you without warning somewhere down the line. But at the same time, I’m not sure how significant it really is. So I want to show it to you – assuming it’ll play again – and ask what you think it means.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘But it’s … gruesome.’

  They had reached the end of the corridor again, next to the door that led back into the heart of the building. Aryel was regarding him thoughtfully.

  ‘I imagined you were still making up your mind about us,’ she said. ‘That’s not it, is it? You were sure of yourself, and now this is making you doubt.’

  She had captured all of his anxieties in a sentence. It was unsettling. ‘It’s making me afraid.’

  ‘I get the feeling this isn’t something you want to share with the others at this point.’

  ‘I’d rather not. If that’s alright.’

  He watched the back of her head, dark hair nodding over the swaying mass of the cloak as she led the way down a flight of stairs. ‘It’s fine. I’ll explain that it’s sensitive. I won’t promise’ – she turned onto a landing and glanced back up – ‘not to tell them about it later.’

  *

  She had a quick word with Donal, cup of tea in his hand as he leaned against the meeting-room door, while Eli retrieved his tablet. It occurred to him that for all his paranoia about security the day before, he had trusted her completely when she had said he could leave his stuff behind while they went for a walk on the upper floor. The Klist report could not be accessed by anyone but him, but there was lots of other information that a clever hacker could break into without much difficulty. He had ignored his own careful protocols, hadn’t worried about it, wasn’t worried now. He could see that his bag had not been moved, the various flaps and catches positioned exactly as he had left them, and found to his surprise that this was just what he’d expected. She had said that no one would touch his stuff, and he had not doubted her for an instant.

  She rejoined him at the table while Donal went to tell the others they wouldn’t be needed for a while. He thumbed the tablet on, angled it for shared viewing and activated the memtab port, leaning forward for the retinal scan that would unlock the file. As he sat back he caught Aryel’s raised eyebrow, and sighed.

  ‘No, I don’t know how they got my print. I should run a security check, I suppose.’ He shrugged. ‘Unless they’ve left an obvious trail it puts me in an awkward position. Potentially.’

  ‘I doubt you’ll find anything. Bel’Natur know how to cover their tracks.’ She settled herself more comfortably in the chair. ‘Are you familiar with the Provis line?’

  ‘Specialised eyesight? Some can see UV wavelengths, some into the infrared?’

  ‘And a very few range across both, including one of our residents here. True hyperspectral vision. She tells me they
also developed a variant with the ability to scan and record individual retinal prints.’

  He was shocked. ‘What? Why? And how could they ever transcribe that kind of information?’

  ‘That part’s quite easy, apparently. There’s a software template. The gems are pretty far down on the autistic spectrum, with a lot of the cerebral cortex given over to visual processing. Transference of the data onto the template isn’t a problem. As for the why,’ she fixed him with that direct look again, ‘use your imagination. Bribery? Blackmail?’

  ‘They’ve not offered me anything’ – not yet anyway – ‘or threatened me.’ Yet.

  ‘If they do we may be able to help. Gaela can fill you in on the gems she knows and knows about, maybe help identify who you met. I assume you have records of all your interviews.’

  ‘Yes, but I meet gems casually too, especially these days. People come up to me.’

  ‘I doubt any of the Provis retscanners would be able to engage you in conversation over a coffee. The adults are severely developmentally disabled, and functionally blind beyond a few feet. If the engineers did figure out how to avoid those side effects the results would still be small children.’

  Her voice was even and matter-of-fact, another litany of exploitation calmly narrated. It was a not uncommon mannerism; a shield against the emotional weight of events, a way of parsing the unspeakable. Somehow it did not make her seem cold, as it often could with gems.

  He wondered if she would be able to maintain it.

  He suspected that whatever her reaction, he was now deeply, personally enmeshed in its consequences. The implications of this apparently casual tangent about his compromised retinal identification were significant. Zavcka Klist had given him one piece of information the gemtechs had buried; Aryel Morningstar had just countered with another, and a way out if Klist dumped a million credits into his account and tried to frame him.