About Sisterland

by Martina Devlin

  “I did it for Sisterland, Constance. It was horrible for you, I understand that. But it was justifiable, sweet child. For the greater good – for universal sisterhood.”

  At that, Constance rebelled. “Mother, why can’t sisters speak honestly to one another? Why are we stuck on this continual loop of the greater good? The Nine was willing to delete me and my baby in the name of universal sisterhood. Whatever I did or didn’t do, sacrificing an innocent baby is barbaric. So let’s not pretend the Nine cares that much” – she snapped her fingers under the mother’s nose – “about me. Or about any of us. I’m finished with universal sisterhood. It’s poisonous! I want what Sisterland should want. But doesn’t. I want what’s best for my baby.” The mother opened her mouth to speak, but Constance held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m not interested in your explanations, your prevarications, your justifications. I did nothing wrong. But I was written off. And so was my unborn baby. Don’t even try to rationalise that – it’s beneath you. I know you pleaded to the Nine for me, mother. And I’m thankful. But once the decision was made, you couldn’t have stood between me and MUM. I’m on borrowed time, and you know it. And that’s the system you’re defending here. I’m ashamed of you. I’m ashamed for you.”

  “Constance, Constance, you’re overwrought. You weren’t sent to MUM – you were given into my care. The Nine listened to me – they showed mercy. And now I’m watching over you, just as I’ve always done. I have your best interests at heart.”

  “You tried to pressurise me to spy for you. You threatened me when I said no.”

  Troubled, the mother pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. Her breathing grew ragged, her body shuddered. When she took her hands away, she said, “Sometimes, mistakes are made. When they happen, it’s always a matter for profound regret. But our intentions are always for the best. Truly, Constance. You must believe me.”

  “But I don’t believe you, mother. I think you’re too bound up in Sisterland to see its weaknesses. I feel sorry for you.”

  “Sweet child, you’re in danger of making a grave error. You’ve become moe-ridden. For your own sake, you must control these impulses. You resent how the Nine is treating you, and your moes are making made you petty, self-centred, vengeful. I had such high hopes for you. I still do. Surely you understand. It’s better to operate from within than without. To construct, not dismantle. To consent, not reject. Constance, I’ve watched your progress for years. I’ve guided you. Be guided by me again. Leave Sister Plaza. Do it now. Get away from these women who want to use you. While you still can. Later, we’ll think of a way to deal with your concerns. On my honour as a mother, I guarantee it.”

  “You know as well as I do that my days are numbered under the Nine.”

  “No, Constance, I’ll have you spared.”

  “I believe you want to. But I don’t believe you can.”

  Patience spotted them talking. Speaking rapidly into her comtel, she sprinted to join them. “Whatever she’s saying, don’t listen to her, Constance,” she panted. “This is the Shaper Mother: she’s an expert at silkenspeak. When she sets out her stall, she’s almost irresistible. Soon, the stage will be yours. Open up to our sisters. They’re longing to hear from you. Tell them what’s in your heart.”

  “It’s immoral, the way you’re using her!” hissed the Shaper Mother. “How could you tell our sisters she’s carrying the spirit of Silence? That’s hocus-pocus. Constance will be swallowed whole by your movement.”

  “We can protect her,” said Patience.

  “You can’t. She’ll be sucked dry by the Silenced. You’re sacrificing her for your own selfish ends.”

  “And you aren’t?”

  At that, a group of the Silenced arrived, and began to hustle the Shaper Mother away.

  They had only gone a few steps before her innate authority exerted itself. “Stop this! Take your hands off me!”

  The Silenced fell back.

  The mother turned to Constance, eyes blazing. “These women are dangerous. Don’t promote their cause. They’ll make a puppet of you. And what about your baby? The spirit of Silence? What a burden for any child to carry! They’re trying to use her before she’s even born!”

  “The Shaper Mother is overtired. She needs to rest.” Patience signalled to the Silenced to move her along.

  But the mother hooked eyes with Constance. “Take my advice, Constance. Even if it’s for the last time. Run away from here – run as far as your legs will carry you. While there’s still time.”

  Constance began backing away.

  “Stay out of this, Shaper Mother,” said Patience. “We mean you no disrespect. We’re prepared to work with you. But you’ll go to Safe Space if you use your silkenspeak here.”

  The Shaper Mother trained her bright gaze on Patience. Her voice trickled syrup over her. “Dear sister, I can’t deny Sisterland has lost its way. Some of our policies need to be reassessed. We need new blood. New ideas. The Nine is open to them. Let me act as a go-between. Let’s all of us sit down together and talk.”

  “The Nine isn’t open. It’s threatened by questions. It shuts down opposition.”

  “We can address that. I’ll speak to Gracious. She understands what needs to be done. She’s willing to bend.” Her tone became confidential. “I know we have weaknesses – I’d like to see changes just as much as you. But I believe in Sisterland. Flawed as it is. With every fibre of my being, I believe in it. Evolution, not revolution – that’s the way forward. You can be part of that evolution, sisters. All of you can be part of it. Join with us, sisters. Come back to us. Believe in us.”

  A vein popped up on the side of Patience’s neck as she fought against the mother’s charisma. “We have a different vision for Sisterland. The Nine is a spent force. It must make way for a new order.”

  “A new order? I think not.” Emphatic, the Shaper Mother shook her head, earrings ricocheting. “No, there won’t be any new order. Loyalty to Sisterland runs too deep with our sisters. You won’t reach them with your talk of baby boys, and the spirit of Silence. Myth-making machinery, Patience. But it doesn’t convince.”

  “You dare to accuse us of myth-making?” Goodwill joined them. “You – part of a caste which has blanked out history! Erased realities! And now seeks to control memories! Your hypocrisy is limitless!”

  “Hypocrisy is a stern charge, Goodwill. I call it loyalty. Staying true to Sisterland. As for recasting history – it’s always a story told by someone. Who knows what’s true, really?” In an elegant gesture, she fluttered her hands, and her mouth stretched into a rueful half-smile.

  Constance was shocked by the Shaper Mother’s cynicism. “Why not trust people with the truth instead of myths, mother?” she intervened.

  “Where a myth is more appealing than the truth, people will always choose the myth. Ah, I see Patience and Goodwill agree with me. We have more in common than divides us, sisters. Enough of this unpleasantness. Let me arrange a meeting between the Nine and representatives of the Silenced. Let’s see what mutual aims can be agreed.” She advanced towards Patience and Goodwill, and her voice descended into a husky murmur. “Incidentally, Patience, I won’t be Shaper Mother forever and I’d be glad to recommend you for the position. And Goodwill, so devoted to Devotion. Think what pleasure a private garden would give her. I could organise that. She deserves it, doesn’t she?”

  Uncertain, Goodwill flicked a sidelong look at Patience. Both were tempted. Until a whirlwind landed among them. It was Temperance, rushing the group, shouting about universal sisterhood under siege. But it could never be routed, she screamed, because it had right on its side. In the heat of her advance, she knocked against the mother, her flailing arms accidentally unhooking the mother’s skin. It fell to the ground, and Temperance trampled it. Everyone was frozen. Even Temperance hushed and became still.

  With a concern that was verging on tender, Goodwill picked up the skin and slotted it back into place. Except the catches
had been damaged by Temperance’s feet. The skin sat crooked on the mother’s face.

  As if a spell was lifted, Patience called out to the Silenced, “Clear the area. We have work to do.”

  And the Shaper Mother and Temperance were led away.

  As the Silenced removed them, Constance dismounted from the stage. Shaken, concerned to protect her babyfusion, and needing to rest, she intended to slip away home. But she had to pass Gracious leaning against a wooden support, head bowed beneath the transparent veil. She should have looked like an aged elder. But, even now, the nimbus of the Nine suffused her with a bloom. Innocence, also rosy amid the disorder, was talking to Gracious, while members of the Silenced hovered at a respectful distance.

  “There isn’t time to convene a meeting of the Nine, or to vote. Emergency powers must be adopted by the first three,” said Innocence. “Gracious, you must join with me and Temperance. It’s imperative that Silence becomes a forgotten woman. We can delete her memory. Not just from Constance 500, but by a general, Statewide unmapping. It will be as if she never existed.”

  “No!” cried Constance.

  “You again!” said Innocence.

  “Silence did exist! I won’t let you have her unmapped.”

  “Silence set a bad example – she harmed her child. It’s absurd to hold her up as a role model. Sisterland is diminished by her.”

  “Is that what you think?” Constance challenged Gracious.

  Gracious shaded her eyes from the light. “What I think . . . What I think . . .” Stuttering, she was unable to finish.

  “Sister, we need to deal with this,” snapped Innocence. “It’s the only way to weather the storm. Silence must be erased from every mindmap.”

  “You whipped up the storm with your inflexible rules,” said Constance.

  Innocence’s eyes flashed. “Insolence!” She twisted her head, hunting for peers to summon, and spotted the Peer Mother with a clutch of them. “Remove this sister!” she cried.

  The peers looked to their mother, who shook her head.

  Innocence deflated.

  Gracious held up a hand. “I didn’t know this sister named Silence. She doesn’t occupy my thoughts the way another sister does. Honour, that’s who concerns me. Honour – and her father.”

  “We have no fathers in Sisterland,” said Innocence.

  Gracious strained towards Constance, who became conscious of the sister tapping at her mind. She did not resist. Instead, she dipped her head to Gracious, and a charge passed between them.

  Turning, Constance remounted the steps and walked out to the centre of the stage.

  “Constance!” chanted the crowd.

  Its clamour was an adrenaline shot. She began to speak.

  “I love a man. His name is Harper.”

  Those eight words of Constance’s caused an eruption. Some members of the audience rose to their feet, incredulous. Constance was almost unnerved by how quickly an audience’s admiration could transform to dislike, but stood her ground. A knocking came at her mind – Patience again.

  We want you to promote change. But that’s too radical! Stay on message, or leave the stage.

  A thought-shaper is permanently on message: Constance remembered her training. So everything about the old order wasn’t about to be discarded.

  She raised a wall against Patience, waiting for the turbulence to subside. Next, she cleared her throat, and readied the words to pour out in a stream. She knew she wouldn’t have much time to present her case, and had to be ready to take advantage of a lull.

  “Love between a woman and a man was common in PS days. It wasn’t harmful. Or wicked. Or deviant. It was natural,” said Constance.

  “Shame on you!” cried a voice.

  “Shame!” echoed from row to row.

  “There were many kinds of love between women and men. Romantic love was only one. There was also love between sister and brother. Between source and son. And between daughter and father.”

  “Impossible!” voices called out.

  “Not impossible. The memory-keeper, Honour 19, knew it. She never forgot it. Before she discontinued, Honour shared one final memory with me. It was about her father, who loved her. As she loved him back.”

  Constance described the cakes Honour’s father baked, the way he took pains to pass on his skills to his daughter, and the bond between them.

  “Women and men lived together with their children,” she said.

  Her audience tested the words. “Women and men. Together.”

  “Yes, it was a system which worked. It gave them satisfaction. They raised contented children. The Nine tells us community child-rearing is more efficient. But who wants to give up their baby? Even for Sisterland? Every source loves her child, and longs to keep it. Whether a daughter – or a son.”

  A woman near the front stood up. A spotlight moved to her, and the crowd could see she was in the late stages of babyfusion. “I won’t let them have my baby. Girl or boy, I’m keeping it!”

  “Me too!” cried another woman with a protruding belly.

  The audience surged to its feet, en masse. “We’ll keep them all!” it roared.

  Constance signalled for quiet. “And what of men? Do we carry on as before, with men? Or do we share the riches of this wonderful land with them?”

  There were mutterings. Reading their unease, Constance understood that boy-babies were defenceless, and inherently appealing – but men fell into another category.

  “Remember, sisters, boy-babies will grow into men,” she cried. “What’s loveable as an infant remains loveable in adulthood.”

  The rumbles continued, however, and she gave way. She’d try again on another occasion.

  Scenting her surrender, Patience’s voice soared out from the voicebox. “We thank Constance for pointing the way towards a new Sisterland. Change is essential. But it must be gradual. Now, sisters, brace yourselves for the release of a synchronised moe: a G has been made available. All of us can share in gratitude for the golden era that’s about to unfold for our dearest Sisterland.”

  A chocolate-brown canopy was lowered over the audience, a hissing sounded, and the moe was set loose. Inhaling, the audience sighed with pleasure.

  Patience, holding a mesh bowl over her nose and mouth to obstruct the moe, pulled Constance off-stage. “You went too far. Nobody authorised you to push the Silent Revolution’s aims as far as you did.” Even though her voice was muffled, there was no disguising her aggrieved air.

  “Leave her alone.” It was Goodwill, also holding a mask. She handed one to Constance.

  Constance’s neck was flushed, and she could feel the blood pumping beneath her skin. “Doesn’t anyone understand? We can’t love our boy-babies, and carry on as before. Everything has to change now. Not somewhere down the line. Now.”

  “Hold up your bowl,” said Goodwill, “otherwise you’ll be overcome with thankfulness. There’s a time and a place for it. But not right now.”

  Constance did as she was told, but the moe wasn’t affecting her in any case.

  Goodwill turned to Patience. “Constance is still finding her feet. You have to make allowances for her. She doesn’t belong to the Silenced.”

  “Any more than Silence does,” said Constance. Breathing shallowly, she walked away.

  As she dismounted from the stage, she saw the Peer Mother talking purposefully with the Scrutineer Mother, both with bowls over their noses. Constance halted to stare. Each had a red scarf knotted at her neck.

  Chapter 34

  ALERT! VILE NEWS ABOUT THE CORRUPT HABITS OF THE NINE HAS BEEN TRANSMITTED TO EVERY COMTEL. WE CANNOT GUARANTEE IT WILL STAY VISIBLE FOR LONG. SISTERS ARE URGED TO READ IT AT ONCE. DO NOT DELAY! THE SAFETY OF SISTERLAND’S BABIES DEPENDS ON IT!

  The flashing message was posted on every public and private entscreen. It was impossible to miss. Constance was napping in her oneser when the entscreen sprang into life, posting the notice. Still groggy, she checked her comtel, and was invited t
o download a communication. It was a voice message – not the typically bland automated voice, but Goodwill’s. At first, Constance thought it was intended for her ears alone. But when she replayed it, she realised this was a mass communication.

  “Dear sisters, you must brace yourselves for sorrowful news,” it began.

  Absorbing the contents, Constance began to tremble. As the shudders continued, she found herself unable to stay indoors, and threw on some clothes.

  In the unit courtyard she passed sisters looking about in wide-eyed uncertainty, or standing in knots talking in hushed whispers, but Constance did not stay to join in their discussions. She needed the closest equivalent to fresh air that Harmony could muster. She made for the riverbank, where more sisters were clustered, staring at their comtels or muttering together. The aftershock was palpable.

  The message on every comtel came from the Silenced leadership. It revealed the discovery of a horrific practice involving the Nine. They harvested blood from babies to keep them youthful: that was the wellspring of their extraordinary glow. A girlplace mother had exposed the appalling habit, confirmed by Gracious, who could no longer condone the abuse.

  Upon admission to girlplace at the age of one, each baby was drained of a quarter pint of blood gradually during her first month – the maximum it was safe to extract. That was why sources were denied permission to visit. The blood was accumulated and stored for the exclusive use of the Nine, whose members underwent regular transfusions.

  All at once, the storm broke.

  “Blood-suckers!” howled a band of women.

  From one side of the riverbank to the other, the reaction bounced.

  “Leeches!”

  “Predators!”

  It was a spontaneous, communal moe-eruption.

  Constance stroked the bulge caused by the child inside her. You didn’t have to be babyfused, or a source, to be filled with implacable fury against the Nine. But it helped. The nimbus encasing the state’s leaders – a defining characteristic – was caused by extracting the life-blood from Sisterland’s babies. There could be no excuse for their actions. The Silenced had unleashed a weapon against the Nine which, for all their power, those sisters were powerless to deflect.