The Disestablishment of Paradise

by Phillip Mann

  Hera thought for a while. ‘Well,’ she said finally, ‘I can’t fault your maths. But one thing I do know about this place is that it seems to be able to speed up its evolution pretty dramatically. Look at the Tattersall weeds. When the Scorpion arrived they were just jolly blue flowers with a sweet smell and people slept with them under their pillows. Now look at them. And that has happened in what? Less than 200 years. I’ve studied lots of examples of how bio-forms adapt in response to danger, but I have never seen anything so quick. It argues consciousness of some kind, and not the random hit and miss of our evolution.’

  ‘You mean, you think the Dendron will evolve so they don’t need to split; they can just peacefully fold apart like a choirboy opening his prayer book?’

  Hera looked at him and shook her head. ‘I don’t know where you get your similes from. Your granny?’

  ‘What’s a simile?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later. No. I don’t think the Dendron will ever just fold apart like a . . . choirboy opening his prayer book. I can’t imagine that. What a loss that would be! All that lovely passion and frenzy gone. Paradise wouldn’t be Paradise without it. It’d be like . . . it’d be like a morgue at midnight.’

  ‘Dark?’

  ‘Silent! That’s a simile. Use your brain.’

  ‘Well, morgues aren’t noisy at the best of times, so what’s midnight got to do with it?’

  ‘I was trying to give an example of a simile, but it didn’t work, so forget it.’

  ‘Morgues are—’

  ‘Will you shut up about morgues? I’m trying to explain about the Dendron. Or do you want me to push you into that stream?’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Where were we? No, I think something else will happen. Something new and quite unexpected. It may even be happening now. Or maybe the Dendron can adjust its life cycle, slow down its metabolism and so endure the long wait until its children catch up with it. I don’t know. But we bought them time, and that is the main thing. I’m sure the Dendron will not die out. That doesn’t fit the pattern, does it? Too many good things have happened – don’t you feel it? – like you and me.’

  Mack nodded. ‘Sounds good to me.’

  ‘So get your pack on, big man. I’d like to see if we can get to that pass up there before we make camp. I’d like to see the sea from there in the morning.’

  And she did.

  It took them seven days to descend the other side and reach Moonshine Bay, and by then they were experts at pitching their tent and striking camp, and they had not fallen out. They had used their time well, making camp sooner rather than later, giving themselves time. We must imagine them in the evening sitting together round their small stove with mugs of tea, or lying together in their tent, heads touching and talking fondly, sharing confidences. By now they were eating what they could forage and Hera’s deep knowledge of the plants of Paradise was put to the test. Though there were plums in abundance, they avoided them and contented themselves with simpler foods. Even so, Hera always used the ancient skin test, which was as reliable on Paradise as on Earth.

  Here is a transcript of what she told me about the more intimate side of their journey:

  Hera Mack was interested in everything. Always asking me questions I couldn’t answer. Like, we saw quite a number of old Dendron stools in the river – all broken down and flaking – and he’d want to know how old they were, and I couldn’t tell him. I used to get mad at that.

  On the second day we had just come down from the pass. Everything was very lush on this side of the mountains and I spotted a thunderball plant not far ahead that was all swollen and waiting to explode – in fact it could have gone off just with us walking past.

  So when we got close to it I said, ‘Mack, stop a minute. Do you want to see some magic?’ He was of course immediately suspicious, but he said OK. Now it was a very clear and fine day, you understand, and we could see right down to the Sea of Ben Ben, with all its islands. So I said, ‘Mack, I bet I can conjure thunder out of this clear sky, but you have to turn your back and shut your eyes.’ He said fine and turned away. He was very suspicious. So then I covered my ears and kicked the plant. It went off like a cannon. Loudest I’d ever heard. A hell of a bang, and Mack jumped out of his skin and the fine blue seeds came out in a cloud and covered him.

  I thought it was funny. He wasn’t too impressed, mark you, because some of them got down his shirt and he had to wash them off in the stream. I played lots of tricks on him and saw him relax. Another time I found some of the Valentine poppies and they were just inflating, so when we stopped for lunch I read him the story of Valentine O’Dwyer and Francesca Pescatti and he liked that.9 We both got one of the big red pods and wrote messages on hybla leaves and tied them on and sent them off up into the sky. They caught the wind and went straight up the hillside and maybe back over the pass. Of course, we didn’t tell one another what we’d said. That’s the tradition.

  Olivia And what did you say?

  Hera That would be telling.

  Olivia So what kinds of things did you talk about?

  Hera Ourselves, mainly. You’ve got to remember, Olivia, it was all new to me, so I was a bit like a girl with her first love, and I was on my best behaviour, but also I couldn’t help myself. I’ve never been able to hide my feelings, and I so wanted him to know me and love me and for us not to have secrets. So when my walls finally came down, they came down completely, and there wasn’t a brick left standing. He was the same. A bit more reserved than me, but then he’d been hurt in love more than me, and so what seemed a game to me was a bit more threatening to him. But he did open up and talk to me, finally. And I to him.

  Olivia Can you tell me?

  Hera Well . . . I suppose so. I’ve nothing really to hide. It’s just a bit embarrassing, that’s all. Things told in the intimacy of a tent can sound a bit silly in the cold light of day.

  Olivia I know. But you might have to trust the reader a bit. All writers have to, and we get disappointed when our best efforts at irony and wit are misconstrued as mistakes. Even so, we take the risk. Not once, but repeatedly. I think you’ll find that most readers will meet you halfway. For what it’s worth, I think that anyone who has fallen in love will know what you are talking about, and you will remind them of what it was like.

  Hera Mack wanted to know what other men I had made love to. I don’t think it bothered him, but he wanted to know. Men are a bit territorial about things like that, aren’t they?

  Olivia Some are. Personally I quite like it. But that’s just me. Go on.

  Hera So I told him. I mean, it was a pretty pathetic record for a woman in her fifties. But I explained that my work had more or less been my life, and the idea of settling down with one person and having children never figured in my world, well not in a deep way, an active way. He wanted to know about my first experience of lovemaking and I told him I could hardly remember. That’s the truth. I was a student at the School of Applied Science, Biology and Genetics on Luna. I was in my second year and we’d all been to an eclipse party, and I’d had a bit too much to drink and got silly and noisy, the way I do. Well, there was this young man I’d been dancing with . . . I think he had red hair and I suppose I thought he looked a bit dashing . . . and we ended up on this sofa. I’m not sure how we got there but there was no one else about. And he was kissing me and I suppose I was kissing him. And I knew what he wanted and I thought, Well, why not? I mean, it has to happen sometime, so why not now? And I was curious.

  But it was so embarrassing. He couldn’t get his trousers undone and I ended up with my skirt up round my neck, sort of waiting. Then he ended up on top of me of me and I got a bit scared then. I’d sort of assumed that he would know what he was doing, that men – boys that is – knew all about it. And certainly he’d given me that impression. But now I think it was his first time too. And you know what they say – too many new things together is a recipe for disaster. Well he couldn’t . . . he couldn’t find his way, and I tried
to help, and somehow I got his elbow in my stomach and I think he got my knee in his . . . codds. But we got started eventually and he gave this great big heave and that really hurt me, and that was it. He’d finished, and when I moved he asked me to be still. Said it hurt if I moved. And I lay there and I remember thinking, Is that it? Is that what it is all about? I’d rather be doing algebra.

  Then he got up. And he was shaking a bit. And he was suddenly worried in case someone caught us. And I thought, Well, it’s a fine time to start worrying about that. But he wanted to get going. I think he wanted to tell his friends. We were both embarrassed, and a kiss would have been terrible. I think we shook hands finally.

  And then he said, ‘I’ll go out first and then you wait five minutes.’

  And that really hurt me. I pushed him back and I went out of the room and slammed the door and locked it and went back to my study. And I sat up and I did do some maths. And then I cried a bit because I was ready to make love – I was of age, as Sasha would say – but it seemed so confined and a bit demeaning really. I went back to my books and tried to pretend it had never happened. And what had happened? Nothing really. But I made sure I wasn’t pregnant.

  Several times after that he came round to my door and wanted me to go out with him. I think he felt genuinely sorry and embarrassed, so I set him a puzzle. It’s an old one and if you’re not used to puzzles it can trick you a bit. I said, ‘I’ll give you six hours to solve this, and if you can solve it in that time I’ll go out with you.’ But he couldn’t, and I didn’t. After that I got a reputation for being intellectual and arrogant and a bit of a man hater, and then my father died . . . but I got first-class honours. And if I was in love with anything, I was in love with my subject.

  Olivia You set him a maths puzzle?

  Hera Yes.

  Olivia What was it? Can you tell me it?

  Hera It’s very well known. I give you twelve identical balls, and I tell you that one is either lighter or heavier than the rest. I also give you a perfect balance. Now, you are allowed three weighings, that’s all. And at the end you must be able to tell me which ball is the odd one and whether it is lighter or heavier. There is no trickery. Just logic. There are lots of puzzles like it, and if you can do one, then the rest are easy. But he couldn’t. He was no more good at logic or maths than he was at loving.

  Olivia Did you tell Mack this puzzle?

  Hera Of course. Well, he asked me.

  Olivia And did he try to do it?

  Hera Yes.

  Olivia And?

  Hera He solved it. As I said, it’s just logic, and Mack was very logical.

  Olivia You’re either a very brave woman, Hera, or a fool – and you’re not a fool. What would you have done if Mack hadn’t been able to do the puzzle?

  Hera Done? Nothing. Well. No, that’s not true. I would have made love to him and then shown him how to do the puzzle. It’s not important. It was a silly thing and the only reason I gave it to the spotty student was because I wanted to show him up, humiliate him intellectually – and I did.

  Olivia What would you have done if your spotty student had solved the puzzle?

  Hera I would have gone out with him once, as I agreed. I would not have made love to him but I would have set him another puzzle. And Olivia, think on. I know lots of puzzles, including some that have no solution.

  Olivia That’s not fair.

  Hera Nor is love.

  Olivia I think you probably frightened men.

  Hera I know I did. And some of them hated me for it. Especially after I became head of the ORBE project. But I was still curious. About sex, I mean. I knew a lot about the riotous goings-on among Martian bio-forms – but not much about humans. And my only other sexual encounter didn’t add greatly to my store of knowledge.

  Olivia Another frightened male?

  Hera I was Shapiro’s mistress on and off for fifteen years. One of them, anyway. And more off than on, if you see what I mean. Don’t look shocked, Olivia. I thought you would have guessed.

  Olivia Then you were lying at that hearing when that lawyer . . . What was his name? Nasty, big pug jaw, always needed a shave . . .

  Hera Stefan Diamond.

  Olivia Yes, him.

  Hera Of course I was lying. They weren’t interested in the truth; they were just digging for dirt, and I wasn’t about to give them any. No one knew that we had been to bed together, of that I was certain, but if I had confessed they would have twisted that into all manner of nasty shapes, all of them damaging to ORBE, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. Anyway, Shapiro was almost impotent. I think the idea pleased him more than the act.

  Olivia He was considerably older than you.

  Hera He was thirty-eight when I was born. Over sixty when I became his lover. Does that seem strange? It shouldn’t. Age is not a barrier. Oh, I love the idea of young Sasha taking her man or young Estelle Richter making love on the shore when the Scorpion first landed. They somehow got things right. But me? All I can say is that Shapiro was the first man I had ever met who I could freely acknowledge was my intellectual superior. And I am sorry if that sounds egotistical, but it is the truth. And in those days the intellect came to matter to me a great deal because science is a very competitive world. Have you ever been intellectually infatuated with someone, Olivia?

  Olivia Yes. It didn’t last beyond the second Martini.

  Hera Then you know what it feels like. It is the most wonderful submission, and can be the cruellest. I was his PhD student. Top in my class. Out to win the world. And suddenly there I was with this mild-mannered man who didn’t seem able to shave himself properly but who seemed to have read everything, spoke two or three languages and who could cut through arguments with the ease of a hot knife through bu er. He just knew so much and could select from such a range of sources . . . And there was something a bit decadent about him too. It only came out when he had been drinking – hints of a dark inner life – and that was attractive as well. I was just in awe, and awe is a dangerous emotion, it makes you very passive.

  Olivia I wouldn’t know.

  Hera So I was surprised when, after one of our PhD meetings at his home, we had a meal – he was a good cook – and a bottle of wine or two, and then he asked would I like to hear some music that his sister had just sent him from Earth? I said yes. It was a new opera by Kossof and Besser called Chrysalis. Do you know it?

  Olivia Yes. Where the god Pan is born again of Earth?

  Hera That’s it. And we listened to it and it has that incredible end to Act One when Pan steps up to the mirror, looks in on our world and then breaks the mirror and steps through. Well, we were sitting close. I had my shoes off and I was sitting with my legs drawn up on the sofa. Very modest, but I was being a bit provocative too, I think. And I was loving the music but wondering what I could say about it when he just took my glass out of my hand and kissed me. I was so astonished. Little me. I felt as if Pan had kissed me. And then it was all so easy. I kissed him and slowly he undressed me and said I was the most exciting woman he had ever met and that some of my research work had stimulated him to go back and resume work he had abandoned on the effect of photo-dynamic resonance on cellular infarction in some of the subterranean aqua bio-forms that had been found on one of the deep lakes under Mars.

  Olivia Any girl could be excused for going down after words like that.

  Hera I’m serious! Those are sexy words, Olivia. And I think it was true because later he published a very well received paper on cellular resonance and my research was given full credit. What I need to tell you also is that, having almost undressed me, and having me willing and waiting, passive to his Pan, he fell asleep. Which didn’t do much for my confidence. But I was hooked. And we did become lovers. Eventually.

  We were more intimate than we were sexual, if you see what I mean. Ideas were the aphrodisiac. Sometimes it was enough if I just held his hand or put it to my breast or kissed him, for he was a very sick man in the last five years. He was a
n addict to the plum. He had a pet one that he used to milk. He was a melancholic too, and knew a lot of Baudelaire by heart, and I was never comfortable with that side of him.10 I also think he never acknowledged a certain homosexual inclination which, had he done so, might have made him happier. Who knows? But even to the end he could sparkle like no other, and ideas and theories still poured from him, and he remains the most original scholar I have ever met – or will meet. And he loved me. I know that. And cared for me. And shared some things which I will not talk about, for they belong with Shapiro in the grave.

  Olivia Fair enough.

  Hera Mack found this hard to accept. I told him. We all have dark patches in our lives which we cannot share. And finally he accepted that, because there were parts of his life too that he could not explain. I said to him, ‘If you had met me in those days, you would not have wanted me, and I would not have known you. Now is our best time. Let’s use it well.’

  Olivia Do you believe that?

  Hera Oh yes. Some are lucky and fall in love when they are young and retain an innocence that guides them. But for most of us I think we have to mature in life before we can cope with the demands of love. It took me a long time to shed my skin, Olivia. And when I did . . . there was Mack.

  Olivia You were very lucky.

  Hera I don’t think luck has anything to do with it. Anyway, one night I said to Mack, ‘Do you know what the most sexy part of a man’s body is?’ He looked at me as if I was joking and then said, ‘His shoulders and his bottom.’ Not bad guesses, eh? But I said, ‘No, his brain and his mind.’ He got upset then, because he thought I was putting him down. But I said to him, ‘Mack, you are the most brainful, mindful man I have ever known. Who else could have taken a twist of my hair and a ring from his granny and found the Dendron? Not Shapiro or any other man I have ever known. Who else would have so trusted his inner knowledge that he would shift down to a planet in order to save a woman he hardly knew, but believed he loved. Not Shapiro, for he didn’t possess that insight or that courage. And who else but you could have worked out how to separate the Dendron? I would have destroyed it. Shapiro would have destroyed it. But you worked it out with raw intelligence and insight. And you had the strength to trust your understanding. You are the nonpareil, my love, and your Hera loves you like a flame that heats a pot. That’s a simile.’