“Don’t leave your skin on the window-seat, ladybird. You might sit on it. I’ll find a spare container.” She left the room.
Constance picked up her skin which was made from plant extracts. She knew she was lucky to have it, rather than one of the cheaper, non-organic versions where the weave was visible. But sometimes it felt like a burden because it would take her years to work off the debt.
Devotion returned with a shell-holder lined in silk, and Constance placed her skin inside it.
“I wish I had your curls, Devotion.”
“I wish I had your cheekbones.”
“You always say that.” Constance smiled. “Your source had curls, didn’t she?”
“You know she did. You used to call her the Curly Lady when you were small.”
“So I suppose my bony face –”
“More than compensates for any lack of curls.”
“Must be down to my father.”
Devotion poured honeyed wine into two liqueur glasses. “You know we don’t have fathers. Only the source matters.”
“Half of me comes from him.”
“Just the biological matter.”
“Do I look like him?”
“I never saw his entire face. I was only with him five times, over the course of a month. I babyfused, and there was no need to be with him again.”
Constance digested this. “Was it horrible?”
“How could anything leading to you be horrible?”
“You were lucky to babyfuse in your first month. That’s rare – and becoming more unusual by the year. Speaking of which, I’ve been –”
“Never mind all that, ladybird.” Devotion pushed a glass into Constance’s hand, and clinked another against it. “To universal sisterhood!”
“Universal sisterhood,” agreed Constance. She finished the wine in one swallow, ready to persist with her questions. Devotion always changed the subject when mating was mentioned.
“Steady on, ladybird.”
“These glasses are the size of egg-cups.”
“My wine’s potent.”
“I need it. It’s been a weird day already, and it’s still got a long, long way to go.”
“A top-up, and that’s your lot. I don’t have any food to offset it, apart from cosmos bites, and I know you don’t like them. Quite right, too. Zero fat or not, I don’t approve. But Goodwill has a weakness for them.” She glooped another dollop into Constance’s glass.
Devotion was a thought-hatcher, a responsible job but restful, in its way. Unruffled sisters were suited to it. Hatchers were required to bring batches of approved thoughts to fruition. But it was thought-crafters who devised the thoughts, and theirs was the more gruelling task. Devotion’s other, Goodwill 824, was a thought-crafter.
Goodwill wasn’t Constance’s favourite person: she always gave the impression of wanting more from Constance than she was prepared to give. Constance’s behaviour towards Goodwill was sometimes studded with instances of low-level antipathy, because Devotion and Goodwill’s affection for each another made her feel as if they were a self-contained unit. Meanwhile, she was an outsider with her nose pressed to the window of their life. The companionship she had experienced with Silence, with all its mutual regard, couldn’t compare to the warmth of the bond between Devotion and Goodwill.
However, Constance accepted Goodwill was a relative, of sorts, in a world where they were not commonplace. A woman became a source only once, unless her child was a boy-man – in which case she was permitted to try again. No woman could keep her son. Sons couldn’t be held, even for an instant, before being taken away, although some sources did manage to see their faces.
“Would you have liked another child?” Constance asked.
“Nobody has sisters unless they’re a twin. But we’re all sisters in Sisterland.”
Constance noticed how Devotion presumed she meant another girl-baby, because who would want a boy?
Constance stood and prowled about. “How much did it hurt?”
“What?”
“Mating.”
“It was unpleasant rather than painful. But I knew Goodwill was waiting here at home for me, and she’d understand exactly what I’d gone through. She’d done it already, without managing to babyfuse – a sacrifice in vain. Poor Goodwill. But I ended up with you for my trouble. So it was worth it all.”
“Was it really a lot of trouble, Devotion? Would you have preferred not to mate? Or weren’t you a little curious, maybe, about what it would be like?”
“All these questions! It’s so long ago, I can hardly remember. I do know I was relieved at achieving babyfusion so quickly. Now, let’s have no more about mating. It’s a distasteful subject, and you won’t have to bother with it for a few years yet.”
“Well, as a matter of fact –”
But Devotion wasn’t listening. “Did I tell you we have a new Hatcher Mother? The previous one retired. She was worn out, bless her heart.”
Constance picked up her glass, twirling the fragile stem between her fingers.
“You look as if the weight of the world is resting on your shoulders, ladybird.”
Constance shook herself. “Just work problems.”
“How’s life on this top-secret course at Shaperhaus?”
“Top-secret. How’s hatching?”
“I’ve been hatching some thoughts about civic duty for girlplace. I finished up yesterday – I’m quite pleased with the results. I concentrated on making them elevating but not priggish. It’s a balancing act.”
“Are they being transferred to the students now?”
“I expect so. Not my responsibility any more. I must say, I’m a little weary. Still, I have today and tomorrow off to look after my herbs and heathers, and play music. That should reboot me. Then it’s back to the hatchery.”
“For more civic duty thoughts?”
“I could be assigned to anything. Now, never mind me, you look peaky. Stay and eat with us? I’d like to make sure you have a nourishing meal. I know you mostly go to eat-easies.”
“Eat-easy food is just as nutritious as a dine-all’s. After all, the menus in both are monitored.”
“Quite right, too. But it’s always spicy dishes in eat-easies. Too much spice can’t be healthy. Come on, Constance, I’m not asking for the moon. Just lunch with my daughter.”
“All right. There’s something I must do later, though. I’m under instructions to –”
Devotion was at the contact console, however, pressing the icon which connected her twoser to the dine-all in the complex. “This is Yellow B. We’ll be three for lunch instead of two. My daughter’s joining us. What’s on the menu? Delicious. See you at the usual time.” She turned back to Constance. “They have twiced-up pie – that was always your favourite as a little girl. Goodwill should be back from work soon. You don’t mind waiting?”
Constance made a non-committal gesture.
“She’s always asking for news of you.”
“I do have some news, as it happens. I’ve been fast-tracked for babyfusion.”
“Well, that certainly explains all the questions. But I must admit, I’m surprised.” Devotion pushed her hair back from her face. “Why would they do such a thing? And what about your top-secret course? You’re still in the middle of it.”
“I’m off the course. Temporarily, anyway. Sisterland’s decided my mission is to babyfuse. Or try to.”
“How very curious. Still, I’m sure your mother has her reasons.” Devotion brightened. “It’s news that’ll please Goodwill. She likes babies. Of course, there are no guarantees.”
“How about you? Are you pleased?”
“You’re a little young, but you may as well get it over with. Your mother wouldn’t have licensed you if you weren’t ready for the responsibility. Maybe it’s just what you need.”
A sour taste gushed up to coat Constance’s tongue. “Maybe the mothers only care about what Sisterland needs.”
Devotion frowned. When
she spoke again, her tone was brisk. “I wonder where Goodwill can have got to? She’s too committed to that job for her own good.”
“But commitment to our work is Sisterland dogma.”
“Stop it, ladybird.”
Constance sighed, and offered an olive branch. “She’s lucky to have you, Devotion. You take wonderful care of her.”
“We’re lucky to have one another. Lately, you seem to make a point of visiting when she isn’t here. Don’t think she hasn’t noticed.”
“I like to talk to you alone sometimes. Goodwill never lets anyone else get a word in edgeways.”
“That’s not fair.”
Constance fidgeted with the crescent-moon charm on a chain round her neck. It was Silence’s – she had been wearing it when she discontinued. A peer returned it to Constance afterwards. There had been an intensity to Silence which Constance valued. She should remember how people were drawn to complementary traits in one another, and accept that Goodwill possessed qualities which appealed to Devotion – even if they bypassed Constance.
Unexpectedly, a question bubbled up in her mind. Had she loved Silence? Honesty forced her to admit the truth. Not the way Devotion and Goodwill loved one another. The love Constance felt for Silence had been the moe a student felt for a teacher who took pains with her. She had been flattered when Silence had indicated a desire to other with her. There had been respect. And affection. But what had been between them didn’t match what Devotion and Goodwill felt for one another. They were two halves of a whole.
Constance had only to look around Harmony to see that different types of love existed between others: for some there was passion, while for some there was companionship. She would have liked to experience the sort of ardour she observed elsewhere with Silence, but it had never kindled. There had been no clamour inside her at Silence’s presence. Wanting to love someone wasn’t enough. Love could not be summoned at will. Even Sisterland’s scientists had stopped trying to manipulate it.
“Goodwill is fond of you, Constance,” said Devotion. “Because of me. But for your own sake, as well. Try to appreciate her.” She squeezed in beside her daughter on the window seat. “She’s known you all your life,. She takes such trouble over those handmade birthday cards she paints for you every year.”
“I like them,” Constance conceded.
“She was offered the opportunity to switch to thought-mending recently. It would have been a sensible move – it’s less pressurised. But she said she had no appetite for it.”
“I don’t blame her.” Constance shuddered.
“It’s necessary work. Someone has to fix all those wrong or broken thoughts – they’re like a disease, they hurt the thinker. Repairing cracked thoughts is a humane act.”
“But what if they’re just different thoughts, not damaged ones? What if this is about control rather than compassion? Besides, if everyone sticks to safe, authorised thoughts, we might never get exciting, break-through thoughts to help us make progress.”
“What progress? Sisterland is a paradise.”
“A paradise? When we’re told what to work at. Where to live. What to eat. We’re even told when to mate.”
“You’re fault-finding for the sake of it. All of us love our work. And there’s always a choice of menu in the dine-all.”
“Yes, and it’s always wholesome. Haven’t you ever wanted to cook your own meal?”
“Certainly not! It’s time-consuming drudge work. Constance, I’m concerned by your attitude. You must watch out for negativity. If you’re not careful, you’ll tip over into a downward spiral. You have a responsibility to think positive thoughts – we all do.”
“But positivity can be monotonous and monochrome, Devotion.”
“Stop this at once, ladybird! I won’t listen to another word. Oh dear, I blame myself. I shouldn’t have given you that second glass of wine.” Devotion knotted her hands. “I wish Goodwill was here, she’d know what to say. This is about Silence, isn’t it? What happened was ghastly. I know you looked up to her – she had so many gifts. Even if she had trouble coping. It’s too bad that wasn’t spotted sooner. The thought-menders could have recalibrated her mind. It would have been better for Silence, and better for you. It was a mistake to let you have such a young other. Best practice calls for at least a twenty-year age-gap.”
“There was more than a decade between us. She had experience I could draw on. Besides, we wanted to be others. It was our choice.”
“It can’t be all about compatibility. It has to be about suitability, too. The senior other has duties towards the younger one: she’s meant to guide her, and help her grow. How is throwing yourself off a bridge the act of a responsible mentor?”
Suppressed moe quivered between them, threatening to break through.
A door opened. Two heads swivelled towards Goodwill 524.
“Why, Constance, how lovely to see you!” She crossed the room and pressed her palms against the younger woman’s, before tugging off her skin.
“Don’t throw your skin on the chair, Goodwill, it’ll get knocked. Here.” Devotion held out a lacquer container.
Goodwill dropped in her skin, and Devotion rearranged it.
Goodwill started chattering, unconscious of the brittle atmosphere. Despite being a thought-crafter, she was devoid of any capacity to pick up on tension. Her skills were saved for the workplace. “I’m starving. I don’t suppose you know what’s on the menu, Devotion?”
“Twiced-up pie.”
“Yummy. Devotion always lets me have some of hers, Constance. No wonder I’m so well-upholstered.” Her laugh boomed. “I must have a cosmos bite to keep me going.” She disappeared round the corner, towards the food box, returning with a bulky bag. “Think I’ll have a triangular-shaped one – I always feel fuller after the triangles. No point in asking either of you to join me, I suppose. You gals don’t have my sweet tooth. Though you could use a few cosmos bites, Constance – you’re a bag of bones. And my gorgeous Devotion isn’t much better.” She squeezed her other’s shoulder, and Devotion laid a hand on top of hers. “A bird flew into a window in the laundry block,” Goodwill continued. “There’s a dreadful mess outside.”
Caged birds which managed to escape were invariably confused by the mirrored walls on buildings, and crashed almost as soon as they took to the air. Their taste of freedom was short. Yet life in a cage was brief, too. Constance had never been able to bring herself to own a bird. Once, Devotion had tried to buy a pair of doves as a gift for Goodwill, but she had refused point blank to accept them. At least she had that in common with Constance.
“Blood and feathers all over the ground,” Goodwill was saying.
Constance thought about what must have happened to Silence when she hit the ground. She never saw her other’s remains. The peers wouldn’t let her. But it didn’t stop her imagining how she looked. Constance swallowed. Goodwill and Devotion were swapping news, their words sounding fuzzy in her ears.
Constance stood up. “I need to go home.”
“What about lunch?” asked Devotion.
“Not hungry.”
“You have to eat, Constance.”
“I’ll pick up something later at an easy.”
Constance’s legs were heavy, carrying her downstairs. Skirting round the side of the laundry block, she saw a man clearing up the debris. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her looking at him, and his posture became deferential while his movements speeded up. She averted her gaze, reluctant to see bloodstains.
Near the Buzz station, Goodwill caught up with her.
“Devotion’s just told me. And you have no other to talk it over with. I know I’m a poor substitute for Silence. But if you have any questions, I’d be glad to answer them, Constance.”
“It’s OK. The Mating Board’s compiled a guide. I know what to expect. Everything you never knew you wanted to know about Himtime is in there. But thanks.”
“Is it still the rule you go to the nearest matingpla
ce in your area? To avoid cherrypicking?”
Constance nodded. “I’m due at the Tower.”
“I know the Mating Mother there. She’s well regarded. She’ll look after you. Are you certain there’s nothing you’d like to ask me?”
Constance shook her head, unwilling to admit that what really troubled her about trying for babyfusion was the aftermath – how she might react. Imagine if she responded like Silence. What if she, too, felt compelled to climb up a Buzz viaduct and fling herself off?
“Good luck, my dear,” said Goodwill.
She hugged Constance and, for once, Constance didn’t pull away.
Chapter 5
On the Buzz home, Constance decided to buy an ovu-pen. Silence had used one, so Constance was familiar with the device. She hoped she might not be ovulating yet – maybe she had wriggle-room to wait a night or two. It didn’t seem too extravagant a wish. There was a medshop near her stop – she’d go there.
The medshop had a queue but Constance didn’t mind waiting. Through the window, she watched a sister in Harmony Parks’ livery polish the stones marking out the contours of a flowerbed.
After a few moments, a girl came to stand behind her.
“Excuse me, sister, is this where I can get an ovu-pen?”
“I hope so. That’s what I’m waiting for.”
“I’ve never used one. This is my first time at matingplace.”
“Me too,” said Constance.
The girl stepped closer. “If only we didn’t have to do it this way. I wish we could go back to artificial insemination.”
“It wasn’t working. Babyfusion figures were falling too fast.”
“So my other keeps reminding me. We have to think about the greater good. She says a woman and a meet actually doing it in real time doubles the success rates.” She swallowed. “And if that’s not bad enough, I heard they’d prefer us to have boy-babies rather than girls. Something to do with their stupid stats. Still, Mustn’t Grumble.” She quoted from Beloved’s Pearls.
“Can I help you, sister?” asked the medshop server.
About Sisterland Page 4