“Come on, you’re well able to do the running, Modesty!”
“I know I’m able for it, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it. At least, not all the time.” Modesty was wistful. “I might want someone to run after me, for a change.”
“That’s possible, in this new version of Sisterland. It was never likely under the previous one.”
“Why, Constance, you’re promoting the Silent Revolution. You told me you only did that on public forums.”
Constance was startled. Modesty was right: she’d gone native.
That night, Harper sat Constance on a high stool in the bathroom, and washed her hair at the sink, because she could not manage to bend over the basin by herself. As he massaged her scalp, she asked him what he made of Modesty.
“That woman is a force of nature. She wants to have it all. She’s going to be our neighbour in this unit one of these days, with a male other in tow. If not a pair of them.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” agreed Constance. “But why shouldn’t she have it all? As a woman getting her hair lathered up, I’m in no position to point the finger!”
“You’re babyfused. And due into sourcingplace tomorrow. You deserve to be pampered tonight.”
His movements were tender as he wrapped a towel round her head, and helped her off the stool.
“All the same,” Constance added, “why shouldn’t Modesty have it all?”
Hand under her elbow, he guided her into the bedroom. “If she has it all at somebody else’s expense, that’s why not.”
“A man’s, I presume?”
He helped her into the pop-up, propped pillows behind her back, and returned to the bathroom. Constance knew he was turning over what they were discussing, and did not press him. Finger-combing her damp hair, she watched him through the open door. He funnelled the used water from the sink into a basin, and carried it outside to water the garden. Harper was growing vegetables in a patch Constance had secured for him in the communal green area.
On his return, he said, “Some women aren’t making space for men in this new world of theirs.”
“I’m making space.”
“You’re in a minority.”
“No, I’m not. You, Harper the Forester turned Vegetable-grower, are impatient. But I love you anyway.”
She waited. He didn’t say he loved her back. But he found a cushion for her feet, tweaking her toes as he lifted them. Her playful protest brought a smile to his face. She wished he could accept that improvements had happened, and more would follow. Harper’s scepticism about the changing face of Sisterland made her anxious.
For him, and their baby. Constance had to believe the three of them had a future together here. She had too much invested in the new Sisterland.
“Patience came to see me today,” said Constance. “While you were at work. She offered a peer escort and private vehicle to take me to sourcingplace. She said I was in a sacred condition, and every care had to be taken of the baby.”
“What did you say?” Harper stopped what he was doing, waiting for her answer.
“I said no, I mustn’t set myself apart. I thought Patience was going to insist. But she told me she approved of this act of self-denial, and she’d make sure other sisters heard about it. It’s proof we’re all treated equally in the new Sisterland.”
Harper didn’t reply. Uneasy, Constance read his thoughts without mindmapping him. She lived in a threeser in private grounds with a man. She wasn’t treated the same as her sisters.
Chapter 37
Constance, Devotion and Goodwill waited for a Buzz to take them to sourcingplace. Devotion and Goodwill had insisted on accompanying her, which pleased Constance.
“I hope you’re up to raising a baby, Constance,” said Devotion. “Personally, I was relieved when you went to girlplace.”
“Though you’d never have let her go if you’d known about the Nine’s blood-harvesting,” said Goodwill.
“Of course not,” said Devotion. “Still, it’s a big responsibility to care for a child. I always thought the Nine was right about it – it’s too important to let it be an amateur occupation.”
“I have Harper to help me.”
Devotion looked sceptical, but at a nudge from Goodwill she let it pass.
Behind the women, the station wall was covered by a hologram: a stylised representation of the Silenced in black, white and red. In the first image, scarlet scarves bound their mouths. But the hologram flickered to show the Silenced untying their scarves. And in the final image, each of the Silenced held her scarf aloft, its tail streaming behind. Impossible to miss, the tableau was lasered onto the sides of public buildings, onto Buzzes, onto bridges – all except the Hope Bridge, reserved for Silence’s face.
“Personally, I’m tired of this image cropping up everywhere.” Devotion jerked her head towards the Silenced hologram writhing the length of the oncoming train. “I liked the Buzz better with nothing on the side.”
“These images give substance to our new Sisterland,” said Goodwill. “Images stop time – they become eternal. And eternity is the message we seek to convey. Sisterland will continue. Its future is in no doubt.”
Constance kept her attention on her bump. That was the future she was interested in. The all-pervasive imagery of Silence and the Silenced in the new Sisterland surprised her – she thought Patience had gone overboard on it. But Patience argued that Silence helped them achieve their goal of easing the transition, and Constance accepted that. Mostly.
She allowed her gaze to meander about the carriage. A hooded man, accompanied by a senior Sistercentral official, sat at the back. He never lifted his eyes from the ground. Space was left around the couple, some sisters preferring to stand rather than sit beside them. But Constance saw the woman travelling with him stroke his arm in reassurance.
The train began slowing into a station.
“Excuse me, aren’t you Silence’s other?” a sister waiting to disembark said to Constance.
“I was.”
The passenger was reverent. “They say your baby will be Silence reincarnated. Sisterland thanks you for it. We celebrate your fertility.” The woman gave a radiant smile, and stepped onto the platform.
Constance sighed, resigned. Sisters were expecting too much from her baby. But Patience was keen on the reincarnation theory – she said it would be another stepping stone in fostering a sense of continuity. And Constance didn’t want to challenge her on it – what if Patience reneged on letting her keep her baby?
“You ought to put a stop to that story, ladybird,” said Devotion. “Why didn’t you say something, Goodwill?”
“It could be useful.”
Devotion snorted.
Goodwill and Constance exchanged glances, guilty but complicit.
“I felt sorry for Harper this morning,” said Goodwill. “He looked left out.”
“You won’t forget your promise?”
“I won’t.”
That morning, trying to mask his hurt, Harper had walked her to the Buzz station where Goodwill and Devotion were waiting. Goodwill had spoken to him, but Devotion had kept her distance, turning away pointedly as Harper had hugged Constance.
“I’ll make sure you’re told about the baby as soon as we have news, Harper,” Goodwill had offered. “And don’t worry, we’ll see good care is taken of Constance.”
Harper had been reluctant to say goodbye. Even after he did, he had retraced his steps to hold her once again, resting his forehead against hers, sharing her breath. A ripple of puzzlement had managed to work its way onto Devotion’s skin.
Now, the Buzz wended its way to sourcingplace, past Hope Bridge.
Devotion looked out at the Silence hologram, its face ethereal. “You never really know someone, do you? Such a waste.”
“It wasn’t wasted. Silence is the match that lit the flame,” said Goodwill.
“Silence should have taken up gardening or winemaking. They’d have soothed her troubles.”
“Never.” Constance stroked her belly. “Thank you for coming to sourcingplace with me.”
“We know you’d prefer that man beside you,” said Devotion.
“Harper.”
“Yes, him.”
“His name is Harper, Devotion. Can’t you bring yourself to say it?”
“Harper. There! Satisfied?”
“We’re here with you, since Harper can’t be,” Goodwill intervened. “Naturally, we wouldn’t dream of letting you go on your own.”
“You’ll keep your promise, Goodwill? The minute the baby arrives? He’ll be fretting.”
“He’ll be the first person I tell. After Patience, obviously.”
“You like him, don’t you, Goodwill?”
“Yes, I do. He made a good job of the baby’s cradle.”
“Men have a knack for repetitive work,” said Devotion.
In sourcingplace, still weak from the birth, Constance watched Devotion clucking over the baby. She rearranged the lilac blanket under the minuscule chin, and checked the temperature control on the wall panel.
“Such a teeny-tiny scrap,” said Devotion. “It’s hard to believe she weighs more than you did, Constance. She looks so delicate. Such a button of a nose. Look at her wrinkle it up, Goodwill. Isn’t she adorable?”
“Harper knows you have a daughter,” said Goodwill. “I transmitted an image to the unit-minder’s comtel, and she called up to him.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He said she was beautiful. And he asked how you were. I told him you took to sourcing like a fish to water.”
Devotion poked the tip of her smallest finger into the baby’s fist. “You know, Constance, I think she looks like me.”
“I see Goodwill in her,” said Constance.
“Impossible.” Devotion bent low, smelling the milky breath.
“You see what you see and I see what I see.”
Goodwill’s eyes were luminous as they made contact with Constance’s.
Immediately after the birth, Constance had been disappointed to learn her baby’s gender: she had longed to be in the vanguard of sisters refusing to relinquish a son. Her hope was that it might help Harper to feel valued, in turn. They’d bring up a son in exactly the same way as they’d raise a daughter, and he’d understand Sisterland had changed beyond recognition. But as soon as her daughter was placed in her arms, Constance knew that a girl was exactly what she wanted. And not just any girl, but this one.
On the third day, eager to let Harper hold their baby, she told the sourcingplace staff she wanted to go home. They tried to dissuade her, but she explained she would avail of special transport for her daughter’s sake.
“It takes time to recover from birth-activation procedures,” said the medico who delivered her. “You’re one of the fortunate few with a private room, and help at the touch of call-screen. Avail of it while you can.”
Privileges were seductive – there was no doubt about it. It was something Constance told herself she’d guard against when she was in the whole of her health. Right now, allowances had to be made.
“Stay on in sourcingplace for a third night,” Goodwill urged, while Devotion was out buying snacks for them.
“I can’t. Harper will be miserable. He’s separated from me and his daughter.”
“If he cares about you, he’ll understand.”
“I must admit, my body aches.”
“How about if I stop by the threeser and answer all of Harper’s questions in person? Would that persuade you to stay in sourcingplace for another night?”
“Would you? That would make me feel a little bit better about him. He’s being left out. It isn’t fair. He hasn’t even seen our baby yet – just a tiny image on someone else’s comtel screen.”
“Of course I would. I’ll go now if you like. I can’t see Devotion coming with me, though.”
“She thinks it’s none of Harper’s business,” said Constance.
“In fairness, Devotion can’t tear herself away from sourcingplace – she’s fallen unconditionally in love with the baby. Who’d have predicted it?” Goodwill pulled a comical face.
Constance couldn’t help laughing, although she winced at the spasm it shot through her body.
“I’ll go to see Harper now, before Devotion comes back and tries to talk me out of it. Although the way she’s going, all we can expect out of her is babytalk from now on.”
“Tell him I love him,” said Constance.
Goodwill tried to hide it, but a scandalised expression settled into the grooves on her skin.
Just then, Patience arrived to inspect the new arrival, Devotion entering the room behind her.
“Your daughter will be an icon, Constance,” said Patience.
“She’s a baby,” said Devotion. “Time enough for anything else.”
Patience paid no attention. “What will you call her? Silence has an appropriate ring.”
“I’m leaving our daughter’s name to her father,” said Constance. “He’s choosing it.”
Patience arched an eyebrow.
“Have you met Harper, Patience?” Goodwill intervened. “He’s an impressive man. I believe we could work with him.”
“Not just yet, Goodwill. Our focus must be on consolidation. Cooperation will follow, in due course. When do you suppose you’ll be well enough to speak again in public, Constance?”
“Soon. I have ideas I want to share.”
“Such as?’
“Skins. I don’t want my daughter to grow up wearing one.”
“But what about her face?” protested Devotion. “She’ll get wrinkles!”
“It’s a cage. I don’t believe we need them. They stop us reading moes on one another’s faces. Some women are already going without skins. And the sky hasn’t fallen in.”
Patience touched her bare face with her fingertips. “Going skinless feels odd to me, still. I don’t feel able to do without it every day. But I’m building up to it. It’s important to lead by example.”
Devotion struggled with what she was hearing. “But their faces!”
“Will age. In line with the rest of their bodies. It’s natural,” said Patience. “Skin removal won’t be mandatory, Devotion. In time, we hope sisters will see the benefits outweigh the disadvantages. Goodwill isn’t convinced yet, are you?”
“Not yet,” said Goodwill. “But it’s wonderful to see women taking personal responsibility.”
“Without skins, we’ll become more experienced at channelling moes,” said Constance. “I’m going to deliver my next speech without a skin on. In fact, I’m leaving it off permanently from now on. I took it off when I arrived in sourcingplace, and haven’t had it on again since. My baby’s first day in Sisterland was day one of my new skin-free life.”
“Skin removal is certainly something you could discuss in your speech,” said Patience. “Though your audience may not be as big as previous ones. Our sisters seem a little weary of public addresses.”
“That’s because you have so many of them,” said Devotion.
“I’ll stand on park benches to talk about skins if that’s the only audience I can reach,” said Constance. “Sooner or later, I’ll get through to them. I know I will.”
Patience nodded. Then, as if the idea had just struck her, she suggested, “You should bring your daughter along. What a compelling image that would make!”
“She’s too young yet for public events – she needs time to grow.”
“It’s never too soon to serve Sisterland.”
“Patience, she’s a few days old!”
“Our children aren’t intended for our own personal enjoyment. They’re only on loan to their sources.”
Constance heard a ringing in her ears. She cuddled her daughter closer, conscious that if Patience said the word, she could be snatched away. Eyes tight shut, the baby stirred and nuzzled towards her. Protectiveness rose up in Constance. But fear nudged into its slipstream.
“Constance’s just had a baby,” said Goodwill. “Time enough for such talk.”
Patience held up her hands in mock-capitulation, before saying she had to leave. Goodwill asked for a lift to Constance’s threeser, since Patience had a private vehicle permanently at her disposal. “To pick up some bits and pieces for Constance,” Goodwill explained. Harper wasn’t mentioned.
Devotion lingered after the others had gone. “They’ll be talking about you,” she told Constance.
“I can’t bring my baby along when I speak in public. She’s too small.”
“Of course it’s wrong. But they won’t see it that way. Isn’t turning her into a symbol part of the plan?”
“I guess. But I didn’t think it would happen so soon. I just thought of it as a way to be with Harper, and now our daughter.”
“A high price, ladybird. Take care your daughter doesn’t feel used, when she’s older.”
Chapter 38
Harper was showing his daughter an apple tree in the private garden attached to the unit. “See the shape the branches make? Isn’t that prettier than all the bangles and earrings those women who visit you wear?” She cooed in her father’s arms. “In springtime, there’ll be white blossom. But no apples on this tree, I think. Why don’t we plant a fruit tree of our own? We could watch it grow, from a sapling to a tree that’s as tall as the roof. Would you like that?”
A vehicle pulled into the courtyard, and he stepped out of sight. A woman he didn’t recognise emerged, followed by Devotion and Goodwill. They were attentive to a fourth woman, who creaked as she moved, like the apple tree. He recognised her from the entscreen: it was Gracious. The first woman appeared to have high status, judging from the way the others behaved towards her. Even Devotion approached her with wary respect. She must be a member of the Co-Equals, thought Harper – the ruling body which had replaced the Nine.
About Sisterland Page 32