A Woman of the Iron People

by Eleanor Arnason

  “Good,” said Nia.

  By the time we got back, Derek was cutting the last fish open. A fire burned next to him. The rest of the fish lay on a rock in a neat row, gutted.

  “We have two choices,” he said. “We can put them on sticks and roast them or wrap them in wet leaves and bake them in the coals.”

  “Which is faster?”

  He grinned. “Roasting. Go cut the sticks.”

  We turned and walked back to the monster grass.

  “He gives a lot of orders,” Nia said. “Who does he think he is? A shamaness?”

  “He has tenure,” I said. “It gives him confidence.” I felt a twinge of envy. My own academic history was far less distinguished. The job I had left had been untenured.

  “What is that? The word you said?”

  “Tenure. It means that what he has, he is able to hold on to.”

  “He is like the big men among my people,” Nia said. “They hold their territories, and no one can make them back down—until they get old.”

  “I guess that’s right.”

  We got our sticks and went back to the fire. Derek cooked the fish. We ate. Afterward I said, “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

  “I got lonely and from what Eddie told me about Nia, I thought she could tolerate a man.”

  “That may be,” Nia said. “But you are nothing like Enshi, and he was the only man I ever spent time around.”

  I looked at Nia. She began to lick the inside of her hand, getting the last of the fish oil. “If you mind him, I’ll tell him to go.”

  She glanced up. “No. I want to learn how he catches fish. Now I am going to wash myself.” She stood up and undid her belt. Then she pulled off her tunic. Naked, she walked to the river. She knelt and undid her sandals. Her fur shone like copper, and she moved as easily as Derek. No. I was wrong. Her movements were more powerful and less graceful. She stood, kicked off her sandals, and waded into the water.

  My companion rubbed his nose, which was peeling a little. “I thought, from what she said before, that nudity wasn’t entirely proper. Or does that apply to men only? Or maybe it is appropriate to undress in order to bathe, no matter who is around.”

  “When in doubt, ask.”

  “A good idea.” He got up. “I imagined her as a tough old lady. A Mother Courage. She’s beautiful.” He followed her to the edge of the river.

  Oh, no, I thought. Derek was notorious. The Don Juan of San Francisco. The Interstellar Lover. He had gone through the ship like a devouring flame. There were even rumors about him and Ivanova, though I found that combination highly unlikely. He wouldn’t say if the rumors were true, and I certainly didn’t have the nerve to ask her.

  I asked him why he was promiscuous, one evening after we had finished making love. Guilt, he told me.

  “Among my people, we marry young. I had a wife. She was maybe thirteen, thin like a reed with long brown hair. Her eyes were blue. I left her when I left my people. I will never betray her. I will never settle down with a woman from outside.”

  Nia was waist-deep in the water and splashing her arms. He called to her. I couldn’t make out what he said. She answered. They began to talk. She moved closer to the shore. Thank heaven it was the middle of summer. The time for mating was past. Nia couldn’t possibly be interested in Derek. Nonetheless, I decided to join them. I heard Nia say, “My people think it’s shameful to go without clothes. But the women in the village of Nahusai like to swim. They wash often. They say the only shame is being naked when a man is there. Or even a boy, for they grow up to be men. But I do things my own way.” She said this defiantly. “I do not pay attention to the opinions of old women. I do what I think is right.”

  Derek grinned, then made the gesture of agreement. Nia waded farther out and began to wash her back.

  Late in the afternoon he showed her how to use a fishing pole. She caught nothing. We ate dried meat for dinner. Night came. There were shooting stars.

  “They come this time of year,” said Nia. “We call them the Arrows of Summer.”

  Derek put more wood on the fire. I went to sleep and dreamt of him. We were in one of the recreation cabins on the ship. The walls were glazed yellowish white. Derek was naked and laughing. His penis was erect. He reached for me. I woke. Off to my right Nia was snoring, and Derek was on the other side of the fire. I could hear his deep, slow breathing. I lay for a while watching the night sky. Then I went back to sleep.

  In the morning Derek went fishing. For bait he used a local bug. It looked like a caterpillar: fat and green with a lot of legs. There were hundreds of the creatures along the river. They fed on the monster grass. The fish fed on them. We fed on the fish.

  “And thus we understand the great chain of being,” Derek said as he finished the last piece of fish.

  Nia looked puzzled. He had spoken in English.

  “Nature red in tooth and claw,” he went on. “That’s a line from Tennyson. He also said that we rise on the stepping stones of our dead selves to higher things.” He grinned at me. “I used to be fascinated by the history of the West, especially the history of industrial societies. That was when I first left my people. I thought—there is a secret here, in Marx and Tennyson and in the big machines. Later I decided my people were right. It is better to be close to the gray whale and the peyote cactus. But by that time I was used to being comfortable. What do we do now, Lixia?”

  “Travel west. There are people on the plain. Nomads. Nia says she can find them for us. I mean to do as much fieldwork as possible. I want my name all over the preliminary report.”

  He grinned. “Is this ambition in little Lixia?”

  “I know what I am. A first-rate collector of facts. But I’ve never been good at the academic bullshit. The analysis. The playing with theory. If I am ever going to get anywhere, it’s going to be on the basis of what I do here in the field.”

  “Maybe. There’s no question about your ability to collect facts. You can learn a language faster than anyone I know.”

  “Except Gregory.”

  He made the gesture that acknowledged that I might be right. “But listen to the way you talk. You say ‘academic bullshit’ and ‘playing with theory.’ This shows a bias. The refusal to theorize is—in itself—a theoretical position, my love. Unfortunately for you, it is not a popular position. Where would we be without our systems, our hierarchies of information, our analyses? Our points and our morals?”

  He got up and stretched. “Those animals of yours don’t look any faster than horses. I can keep up.” He kicked dirt on the fire. Then he collected his belongings: his pack and fishing line, wound in a coil, a bow and half a dozen arrows.

  “You made the bow?”

  “Of course.” He looked down at his feet. “I can’t run like this.” He took off his boots and socks. “Here.” He gave them to me.

  Nia said, “If you are going to travel without shoes, keep to the trail or—if you are off it—watch where you put your feet. There are plants that sting on the plain. Don’t step on anything that looks unusual.”

  “Always good advice,” said Derek. He made the gesture of gratitude.

  We saddled up. I tied my belongings and Derek’s on my animal. Nia and I mounted. We splashed through the river. On the other side we found a trail that wound through the monster grass. Soon we were back on the plain. It stretched to the west and north and south without interruption.

  At first Derek tried to walk beside us, but the trail was too narrow. He loped ahead. His hair was untied and flapped in the wind. So did the tail of his shirt. He moved easily, confidently. He looked happy and relaxed.

  “This man is strange,” said Nia. She glanced at me. I made the gesture of agreement.

  “Is this the way your men are?”

  “No. He is something special. He makes most of us uneasy.”

  “Hu!”

  The land changed. Now it was rolling. Often, in the distance, I saw clumps of monster grass: tall and brilliant green
, like a stand of trees. Late in the afternoon we made camp in a hollow. Derek and Nia went to gather dung. I took care of the animals. They were restless—thirsty, I decided. When Nia came back I said, “Why don’t we go into one of those groves? You told me they grow near water.”

  “There is an animal. The killer of the plain. It lies in wait near water. Bowhorns come to drink. It jumps on them.”

  “Oh.” I thought for a moment. “That’s why you were uneasy when we came to the river.”

  Nia made the gesture of agreement. “I knew there was no way around the river. We had to cross it. But I am afraid of that animal.”

  After dinner I called the ship. Eddie answered.

  “Why is Derek here?”

  Eddie laughed. “He made it, eh? Three reasons, Lixia. He is a first-rate field worker, and he was being wasted off by himself.” He paused for a moment. “Nia is our most unusual informant. We wanted a second evaluation of her and her information. That is reason number two. Finally, you don’t call in often enough. Derek is there to keep tabs on you and Nia.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Uh-huh. You lack social responsibility. If I were Chinese, I’d be upset with you.”

  I bit the edge of my thumb. “Is that so?”

  “Uh-huh. Speaking of our comrades from East Asia, there are a lot of posters going up along Democracy Wall.”

  There was a main corridor that went through the living quarters. The Chinese had lined part of it with corkboard and named it Democracy Wall. They said it was necessary for the proper expression of the mass will.

  What was wrong with computers? the rest of us asked.

  Computers isolated people, each one in front of a little screen. The wall brought people together. They could discuss what they read. They could look around and see how their neighbors were reacting. They could tell who was listening.

  Computers emphasized linear thinking and logic. The wall, like the Chinese ideogram, used linear and nonlinear ways of organizing information: pattern as well as sequence, space as well as time. When one looked at the wall, one used the entire human brain.

  Besides, it was traditional. Human beings had always written and drawn on walls.

  It was hard to argue with that, and the wall had a certain disheveled charm. There was no telling what people would put up: a clever drawing, a stupid limerick, a papier-mâché mask. “Wanted—a partner for chess.” And a lot of political arguments. It was a way of getting at the people who would never think of entering any of the political discussion networks.

  Eddie went on. “Lu Jiang, the plumber, has a theory, which she has posted. It goes as follows: if the information we have now is right, all the native societies are stuck at a pre-urban stage. As far as we know, it is impossible to develop an advanced technology outside of cities. Without an advanced technology, there can be no proletariat. Without a proletariat, there can be no socialist revolution. Therefore, she argues, the unfortunate inhabitants of this planet can never achieve a socialist society. She has, of course, been criticized for undervaluing the role of the peasantry in achieving socialism.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “It’s dangerous, Lixia. People are beginning to say if Jiang is right, then maybe we ought to make contact with the natives of the planet—formal contact, telling them who we are. Maybe we have to offer them our technology. If we don’t, we condemn them to an existence without the possibility of progress. They will remain as they are forever.”

  I rubbed my nose.

  He went on. “What I see happening is an alliance between the altruists and the technologists. The lovers of the people and the lovers of machinery. They will both decide that we have to open up the planet.”

  “Eddie, you are borrowing trouble.”

  “Listen to me. My grandfather was a medicine man. He saw things before other people did. And I tell you, right now I have his ability. I can see it like a vision: the mines and the refineries and the furry proletarians, punching the clock every morning.”

  I decided to stop talking. Eddie was getting angry, and I didn’t want any part of one of his rages.

  “I’m going to turn this thing off. I want to do my exercises.”

  “Okay. Tell Derek to call in. No. On second thought don’t bother. He always remembers.”

  I turned off the radio and did my exercises. After that I meditated, fixing my gaze on the eastern horizon. The sky there was a transparent deep blue with a tinge of green. Farther up—where the blue grew lighter and a bit more green—a point of light shone. A planet. I concentrated on my breathing. In. Out.So. Hum.

  Behind me Derek spoke. “Achieving oneness with the universe?”

  I twitched, then looked around. He was standing about a meter away. He had come up soundlessly. He grinned. “Do you want any peyote? I brought some down.”

  “It seems to me we agreed, no narcotics on the surface of the planet. Unless, of course, they were provided by the natives.”

  “First of all, peyote is a hallucinogen. And second, it is necessary for the practice of my religion.”

  “The committee agreed with you?”

  “Which one? The ship is full of committees.”

  I opened my mouth. He raised a hand. “You’re right. I didn’t get permission.”

  “What is this? Some kind of infantile rebellion?”

  “I get tired of rules. I take it you don’t want any peyote.”

  “No.”

  “How about sex? I’ve been noticing, you look very good down here. I think it’s something to do with the sunlight. Nothing looks right on the ship. But here.” He waved a hand at the darkening sky.

  I thought for a moment. “Okay.”

  He sat down next to me, putting an arm around me.

  He was, as I had remembered, very good. Not fast. Derek came from a hunting and gathering society. He knew the value of patience and slow, careful work. He knew how to use his hands. He knew what to say and when. Is there any pleasure equal to seeing—or hearing—or feeling—a really good craftsperson at work?

  We ended naked in the prickly pseudo-grass. He was on top of me and in me.

  Nia said, “What are you doing? Don’t you realize it is the middle of summer? No one mates this time of year.”

  Derek said, “Go away, Nia. We’ll explain later.”

  “Very well. But you people are strange.”

  Derek lifted his head. “She’s gone. Now, where was I?”

  I laughed.

  Afterward we lay awhile in the vegetation. I felt wonderful. I had been alone too long. How many days? Forty-seven? Forty-eight? I would have to ask Eddie. I had lost count.

  Derek got up and started dressing. I followed his example. A meteor fell. We walked to the camp. Nia sat next to the fire, which was dim and had a peculiar aroma. Dung did not burn the same way as wood. She looked up. “Are you through with your mating?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are perverted.”

  “That may be.” Derek sat down.

  Nia looked at the fire. “I am unlucky. Everywhere I go, I meet people who do things the wrong way.”

  Derek grinned. “What do you mean by that? What is the wrong way? Is it what the old women say is wrong? You told us you did not care about their opinions.”

  “That is true. But everyone knows people feel lust in the spring. Only sick people feel lust at any other time.”

  “We are not ordinary people, Nia. You must understand that. We are stranger than you can know. But we are not bad. And there is nothing wrong with our health.”

  “You make me uneasy. I am going to take a walk.” She got up and limped away. In a minute she was gone, out of sight in the darkness.

  I sat down. He frowned. “How upset is she?”

  I made the gesture of uncertainty.

  “That’s a lot of help.”

  We waited up for an hour or so. Nia did not return. At last I went to sleep. I woke at dawn. Nia was close to me, lying down, her cloak around her
, snoring softly.

  We rose at sunrise and continued west. The weather stayed the same: hot and bright. The land continued rolling. To the north of us was a range of low, round hills. Clouds floated above them.

  “That is the land of smoke,” Nia told us. “It is a holy place. The water there bubbles like the water in a cooking pot. Smoke rises out of cracks in the rock.”

  “Oh, yes?”

  Nia made the gesture of affirmation.

  A little past noon Derek stopped. He was on top of a rise. We rode up to him.

  “There is someone behind us,” he said.

  “A man,” said Nia. “No woman travels alone.” She barked. “No. I do not tell the truth. I have traveled alone. But usually women go together.” She glanced back. “I do not see him. You must have good eyes.”

  “Yes.”

  Nia shaded her eyes and looked again. “I will believe you. Someone will have to stay awake at night. If the man has decided to come close, he will do it then.”

  We kept on. By this time there were clouds all across the sky. They were small and fluffy, arranged in rows. The land was dappled with shadows. Here and there I saw outcroppings of dark rock. Basalt? I wondered. According to the planetologists, the rocks here were virtually identical to those on Earth.

  The hills to the north were closer than before. Nia kept glancing at them. “I do not like the land of smoke. There are demons there.”

  “Oh.”

  In the evening we made camp near the top of a hill, under a huge mass of rock. It was black and rough. Volcanic. Below us was a valley full of bushes. Their leaves were yellowish green. We went down and found dry wood. Nia built a fire. It lit the dark face of the rock and the bodies of my companions: Derek—lean and smooth and brown, Nia—broad and furry.

  We ate. Derek stood. “I’ll take the first watch.” He glanced around. “There ought to be a good view up there.” He walked to the rock and began to climb, going up quickly with no hesitation.

  Nia watched him. “Can he do everything well?”