by M. L. Janes
"Meg, I grew up there, too. I was a miner until age middle age – a very tough life. Since that time I've served the community in one way or another. I've worked hard always and the time's gone fast. I've often wondered, if I'd been a mal who was taken care of in one of our Banks, whether I could actually have spent more time enjoying the real pleasures of life. But I didn't get that choice – none of us do. I accept my long life of hard work, and will never experience a youth of pure leisure and entertainment."
At that moment I recalled my anger at Ben during the death spiral, when I envied his incomprehension of our fate. I thought of the many fears in life, times of pain and loneliness, upset and boredom, mind-numbing routines of work. By nature and by law, Ben was protected from all that.
Brandt was drawing me back with an arm round my waist. "I don't doubt Folio's hard youth down the pits, but that doesn't exactly apply to young croses on the Light Side," he remarked. "The next argument he'll give you is that we chose to give these mals life in the first place, instead of letting them go extinct, so they should be grateful for at least youthful life rather than nothing at all."
"Sort of true, isn't it?" Folio commented, showing that his hearing was still excellent. "Who's going to choose a mal without the financial incentives that we, poor overtaxed croses, pay for?"
Or the sentence reductions you offer incarcerated fems, I thought. Again, though, a very logical point. Croses tolerated mals because they were genetically useful. Too many adult mals wandering around and they would be seen as an increasing threat. The simple answer – don't breed any more.
Brandt shrugged. "Folio, you can argue all the logic you wish. But the fact is, the movement is out there. Increasing numbers of fems think that mal policies are wrong, and increasing numbers of younger croses don't see a good enough reason to defend them. Maybe the concept of human equality isn't rational. Maybe it's just an instinctive response, like the desire to see fair play. But it's everywhere out there, and it's growing."
The music for that dance ceased a little later and I took that opportunity to thank the senators and take my leave. The rest of the evening, Al introduced me to various other guests whom he thought of significance. Luckily, very little of the conversation required much concentration, as I found my thoughts constantly drifting back to Ben. As soon as it seemed appropriate, I told Al and Jo I was tired and would go to bed. Al wanted to know more about my talk with the senators but I told him it could wait until the next day. I took the elevator to the roof terrace, which was empty except for Ben. This time he was not sketching. He was composing music and playing it back to himself. I don't know much about music, but I always liked the material he composed. I sat beside him.
"Ben," I said slowly, "I realized today how much more you understand than I had previously imagined. I really don't know how I could have been so stupid, underestimating you so badly." I paused. "Do you know what I'm saying to you now?"
He turned to look at me. He didn't nod his head, but some message seemed to be blazing from his blue eyes. I had never known him focus on me like that before. It gave me an incredible thrill, like I had just met live somebody whom I had seen before only in pictures and yet had dreamed about. It felt like something had lit up inside him. There was still not even the shadow of an emotion showing and perhaps no one else would have seen anything unusual. Maybe it was all my imagination, triggered by what deep-space pilots call gravity-head. But my world has definitely been rocked.
Ben picked up the sketch-pad next to him and turned to a drawing. This one was more like a diagram. On the left side was his own face with eyes closed, while all sort of items – words, pictures, sounds, events – streamed into his brain. In the middle, our Gold Wing was shown to be breaking up. On the right side, his face was sketched again but this time with eyes open, and there was something very subtly different about the expression. Items were now shown emerging from his brain, but it was difficult to make out what they were. They were curious, shadowy things, some kind of abstractions, a little scary in being both realistic and weirdly half-finished. But the picture's message was dramatically clear.
"Oh, Galax, Ben!" I exclaimed softly. "The death spiral woke up something inside you. Then suddenly all the stuff you'd been absorbing before then was put to use. A big mental library inside your head has been put to work!"
I stared at him, in search of a facial reaction of some type. It would have been very easy for him to nod his head in order to show his agreement, but instead he just continued to stare at me with his piercing blue eyes. It felt like his stare was the only way he knew how to communicate, and I had no means of understanding it. Yet how could I complain at this moment? In his sketch, Ben had told me that he had both learned and processed much of what we had experienced together, and was now developing his own independent ideas. I was overwhelmed by both the wonderfulness of this discovery, and the awful danger it implied for Ben. And possibly me. I gently took the sketch-pad from Ben and pulled out the two-face diagram, folding it up and put it in my jacket pocket.
"Ben, this subject must remain our secret, do you understand? Please don't reveal it to anyone else. No more pictures even hinting at any abstract ideas. Just continue to draw things you see in real life, like a camera, and no more."
The eyes continued to blaze at me. I had to assume that he understood my message. I took his hand and led him to the elevators, and we rode to our hotel room. Tired and ready for bed, I was looking forward to my shower, and peeled off my stiff pilot's dress-jacket as soon as the room-door closed. But as Ben entered the bathroom to prepare it for me and I called him to unhook the back of my tunic, I was suddenly struck by a new aspect of my altered world. My sense of Ben had fundamentally changed, and that included my emotional response as a fem. I could no longer see him as a kind of gorgeous pet. Something romantic and sexual welled up inside me which I had never felt before.
Given the design of Earthlings, maybe it is easier for my readers to understand what I am saying than for me to fully express it. Fems have sex with croses, not mals. If we are lucky, then we fems can feel romance with croses, too. At that moment I was not a virgin. A few years earlier, on a particularly lonely voyage, I had experienced sex with a cros while stopping over for a few days at a remote fueling station. I will say more about that later when it's more relevant, but suffice it to say for now that I had known a range of sexual feelings, up to an including orgasm, through the presence and touch of another human. I understood orgasm well enough because I had given it to myself on countless occasions on long flights.
This is an uncomfortable subject for me to write about, and perhaps for you to read. But it is critical for you to try and understand what was going through my mind at that moment. It is difficult enough for me to understand, even if I try to trace it all to some rational evolutionary origin. In the distant history of our species, I knew we had only two sexes just like other animals. Extreme environmental changes led to the fem-mal-cros structure, though how it actually happened is still hotly debated. Many scientists believe that, when there were just males and females, the males were much more like mals in physical appearance.
Some time ago I read somewhere that it's impossible to induce your own orgasm without imagining something erotic. If the reader can do that, well then, this theory is obviously wrong. But in my case that's true, and I like to think that it's quite normal and healthy. But I'm afraid I cannot get myself worked up enough thinking about a cros, no matter how hard I try. That's different from actually having sex with a cros – something I discovered to my relief when I had that one night of passion. That cros was very skilled – as all croses are taught to be – and the proximity of another human while having my body sexually pampered was enough to get me crying out like some sort of Amazonian warrior. But I can't even remember how that cros looked, and even if I did it would do nothing to get my libido in top gear.
So the big question is, who or what do I fantasize about when I treat myself? You may already have
guessed that this happens not a few times when I have my pet mal's arms wrapped around me. If I say that the fantasy lover in my head looks like a mal, you might conclude that Ben and his predecessors were all perfect candidates. Yet in fact I never thought of them in this way, because – well, they were so pet-like. I can't get excited if I feel there's nothing relevant going on upstairs. If I imagined a mal, I would also know there was no emotion, no desire, no thrill of communicating feeling to another human. So perhaps what I always imagined was some kind of pre-historic male, and perhaps all fems were forced to use this strange device if they wanted erotic fantasy when alone.
That was a long and tedious explanation to try and help you share my feeling when Ben began unzipping the back of my tight-fitting tunic. The type of dress required no underwear, so I was already naked when I stepped out of it. I turned to face Ben, feeling I had to know if there was any change in him. Of course, there wasn't. But he didn't yet move, sensing I must have some further instruction for him. I realized my arms were crossed over my breasts, something I had never done before in front of any pet mal. I also felt my cheeks burning, and sensed the flush was running down my neck and across my chest. I felt guilty as hell, but at the same time I felt more excited than even the time I piloted my first Gold Wing.
"Get yourself ready to wash me," I told him. It sounded an idiotic instruction, but he obeyed by stripping off his clothes. He stood in front of me, staring at me like before, always without facial expression. There is another detail you may be wondering about, so I will tell you that no part of his body indicated excitement. Though expected, that was a big relief to me – who knew what an excited mal was capable of, and the worst possible temptation had been removed. I took his hand as if to lead him to the bathroom, then realized that would be a big mistake. If I let him soap my body, it would push me over the edge. Yet I couldn't leave the moment just there. I took his other hand and we just stood together, an inch or two apart, me staring up at him. Our chests were almost touching, and I was half-hoping they might do by accident, or by him moving forward.
I knew this moment was created by sheer desire on my part, but I told myself that it served an important function. I was telling Ben he meant much more to me than a pet. There were no concepts in our society to describe my feelings towards him, so I hoped my gaze back at him would do it. Ahead we had a perilous journey, and I needed to persuade him that he could trust me at all times. There was nothing at all unusual about us standing naked together, but I believe my expression conveyed the entirely new world we had entered.
I showered by myself but did not resist when he entered the bathroom and began to dry me. From the feeling, I knew I had made the right decision about the shower. I could barely contain myself as we got into bed and he nestled up behind me. I lay there, wired to the point of almost shaking, while I waited for him to fall asleep. As soon as he did, I went to work on myself. Three times. Even after that I felt I wanted much more, but it was enough. I took a sleeping pill I had placed beside the bed, and it mercifully did the job. But before it did, a new thought worried my weary mind, previously hidden by my excitement. At what point during the death spiral had Ben's mind been liberated? Was he aware I was taking credit for what he might know he had accomplished himself, but was playing along with the deception? If so, was he doing so out of loyalty, or for some other reason? Whatever the reason, would it last?
Chapter 3
I decided to meet Al and Jo by the hotel pool that next day, and I told them to dress appropriately. I had a few reasons for that decision. First, though I wanted to get on with my agenda, I still felt the need to unwind and laying on a sunbed with a cocktail was a marvelous excuse. Second, it meant that I could watch Ben in his swim-shorts, particularly when he exercised in the pool. Third, a paradox to the second, I wanted to see who of Al and Jo looked least bad in his underwear. The marriage decision would have to be made very soon – it was part of the plan.
Actually, compared to most croses their ages, both Al and Jo looked OK in swim-shorts. I had already been leaning towards Jo as a better personality fit, and I was pleased to see that he also had the edge when it came to physique. A bit taller, a bit rangier, and a smaller pot belly. Certainly nothing to fantasize about, but I could make something of the love-life. That would be the final test, and Jo would get the first and hopefully only audition.
Meanwhile, I was showing them what was on offer by wearing a rather skimpy bikini. I was proud of my shape, which definitely deserved the option "athletic" on a dating profile. Ben had kept me on a healthy diet in space, and I hoped I could maintain the discipline now I was surrounded by planet temptations. I took a small sip of my cocktail as Al asked me again about the senators.
"I'm very glad you arranged it, for my education," I told him, "though it was somewhat depressing. I was hoping that the anti-reform arguments could be exposed as just prejudice and backwardness, but Folio had a clever way of twisting things. It was quite a seductive argument that the current situation is essentially fair to everyone, given that none of us are born equal in the first place."
"That's the feel-good argument," Jo commented. "If it's not enough, then they bring in the heavier guns. Things work well today and everyone knows their place. If you start upsetting the system, who knows where it will end. If you can't make people feel good, you make them fear bad."
I nodded. "Brandt's only answer was that popular opinion was growing on his side. Fems want to see more equality because that's how they feel. As you would say, Jo, I already know that because I know how the typical fem thinks."
"And that's exactly the type of thinking which drives about 70% of croses crazy," Jo added. "They pride themselves in their logical approach to political issues. Many croses campaign to try and get all voters to take a logic exam."
"What do you think of that idea?" I asked cautiously.
"Nonsense," Joe replied without hesitation. "In the end, these croses are just rationalizing back from their own feelings, but can't recognize it. Their feeling is fear. Fear of a world in which mals take control."
"Do you two fear that?"
Al and Jo looked at each other, probably never having discussed the topic. Al said, "We all fear the unknown, chaos, persecution, and being at a physical disadvantage. All that could happen. But I guess my human instinct just makes me uncomfortable with the way we treat mals. So if this is your crusade, Meg, it's not too much of a stretch to join you." He drew a box with four fingers in the air above him. "I confess that I want my name up there with lights so I can mix with a better set of people. You offer me liberals? Sure – there are many top liberals whom I would just love to invite me to their weekend parties."
Jo rolled his eyes. "And Meg said the senators were depressing…" He turned to her. "Dear, rest assured that at least my motives are pure. I just love an intellectual war. You chose the side we're on. I'm ready!"
I laughed. They were with me because of me, and because they could not resist a challenge and its social rewards. They had not an ounce of passion in the cause itself, though to their credit they were wholly lacking in the kind of cros prejudice which lay behind Folio's slick arguments. It suited my goals perfectly. I had chosen my suitors – and business partners – well.
Ben had been busy sketching under a nearby umbrella. I saw him put down his pad and stand up, magnificent in his swimming briefs. He stepped to the pool and dove in with barely a splash. Then he started a muscular crawl up and down the pool, something we had practiced daily on the Gold Wing which had a single-body pool for workouts. It was a beautiful sight on this sunny morning, resting by the glittering water among leafy palm trees. Something that many more fems should be able to enjoy.
"I think you'll both be happy to hear that I am going to avoid any political angle," I remarked. "Life extension for mals, giving them education, jobs, more rights – I'm going to stay silent on it all. My message is going to be fashion."
I noted with amusement that I had surprised my suit
ors. But they waited patiently for the word to be decoded.
"Those chants at my press conference, "I continued. "Fem Choice and Fam Values. Are they really such opposites? I'm personally tired of single fems being seen as threats to social stability, but we're not going to make progress by launching into endless political debates. I am simply going to set a radical example that everyone can relate at least partly to."
I turned to Jo. "Gentle Cros, your offer of matrimony is accepted. But don't think I'm going to give up Ben. You and I might be making babies and having wild sex together. But each night it's Ben I'm going to be cuddled by as I fall asleep. You'll be sleeping in a separate room. Sorry, but it's the only way I can maintain my sweet dreams."
Jo nodded as if appreciating the astute politics of my approach. It seemed the effect upon him personally was irrelevant as he commented, "I assume you're applying your usual shrewd judgment about fem opinion instead of wishful thinking. In that case, it could well be a stroke of genius."
"Is there a precedent for such threesomes?" Al asked.
Jo smirked at him. "Only your type, if you had managed to persuade Meg and brought her back to your current wife." He laughed as he seemed to think the matter through. "I mean, who can criticize you? Even Folio has two wives. You're not breaking any laws or even bending any rules. Wow, if this really does become fashionable, the Banks are going to be empty!"
"So you're OK with it, Jo?" I asked, to be sure.
He shrugged. "No strategy is riskless, but I think this one is inspired."
"She means are you personally fine with the living arrangements, when you can climb down from your ivory tower?" Al interjected.
A flash of understanding showed on Jo's face. "Ah. Oh, no problem. Better I sleep in a separate room anyway – I tend to wake up and read odd hours of the night."