Culture Shock

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Hannah, Daughter of John,” Konrad said, before Hannah could say a word. He nodded to his wife. “And Mary, Wife of Konrad, Widow of John.”

  Judith’s face went completely expressionless. “And are all of these part of your name?”

  “Her name,” Konrad corrected.

  John gritted his teeth. He missed his father. He’d never spoken about his wife so dismissively. But then, they’d never had to go through a checkpoint either. No one had bothered to register the Forsakers on Tarsus. In hindsight, being kicked off the planet had been easy to see coming.

  “Very good,” Judith said. She glanced at Hannah for a long moment, then turned her attention back to her terminal. “I will be taking a blood sample from each of you, then you will be shown to your temporary quarters. If the blood test reveals nothing of great concern, you will hopefully be moved to your final destination. If there is a reason to be concerned, there will be further discussions ...”

  “We are clean,” Konrad said, proudly.

  “I certainly hope so,” Judith agreed.

  John cringed, hoping desperately that it didn't show on his face. He had heard all sorts of horror stories about life outside the commune, about how easy it could be to pick up something that would blight the rest of his life. And yet, he’d gone to school on Tarsus and never caught anything beyond the common cold. He’d certainly never socialised with the other children outside school.

  If an Outsider breathes on you, his mother had said years ago, you might become unclean.

  Judith reached into a drawer and removed a handful of tiny devices. John had expected needles, like some of the school medics had used, but the devices seemed to be nothing more than unmarked cylinders, the same size and shape as pencils. There were no needles, as far as he could tell. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He’d hated needles, back when he was a child, but at least he’d understood them.

  “Who first?”

  John hesitated, then waved. Judith smiled at him, so warmly he almost melted, then motioned for him to sit on the chair next to her. John rolled up his sleeve, bracing himself as she pushed the device against his bare arm. He didn't dare look at her as she pushed ... there was a sudden sensation, as if she’d just poked him, then nothing. She pulled the cylinder away from his skin and placed it into the terminal.

  “Well done,” she said. John wondered, absurdly, if he’d just been tricked. The needles he recalled had hurt. “Do you want a lollypop?”

  John shook his head. Joel was staring at the cylinders, his face pale. John hesitated, then rubbed his forearm hastily, trying to pretend that it was sore. Maybe, just maybe, Joel would believe it had hurt. He wouldn’t be the first strong man to be afraid of a needle.

  Konrad stepped up and allowed Judith to test him, then nodded for Joel to go next. Joel looked reluctant, his face even paler. John smirked, even though he knew Joel would make him pay for it later. Seeing him humbled was worth a beating. Joel sat down, his entire body shaking. John turned away to conceal his smile as Joel realised it didn't actually hurt. He would savour the memory for a long time.

  Hannah cleared her throat. “What happens to the blood?”

  John started. He wasn't the only one. Konrad looked torn between the immediate urge to tell her to be quiet and an understandable reluctance to discipline her in front of Outsiders.

  “The blood gets tested for anything potentially dangerous,” Judith said. She didn't seem reluctant to answer. “Everything from infections - active or passive - to long-term genetic dangers. We need to know if you are carrying anything dangerous. Or, for that matter, if we are dangerous to you.”

  Hannah paled. “Is that likely?”

  “Not really,” Judith said. “Our population has enhanced immune systems. But we do have to be careful.”

  She gave Hannah a brilliant smile. “Have you thought about becoming a doctor?”

  John winced. There were doctors in the commune, but very few young men - and no women - were allowed to study with them. Women were allowed to be midwives - no husband wanted a male doctor attending his wife in childbirth - yet their role was very limited. John himself had once considered attempting to become a doctor, but none of the doctors were interested in taking him as an apprentice. Konrad had flatly refused to convince them to change their minds.

  “I might,” Hannah said. She’d pay for that later, John was sure. “Is it allowed?”

  Judith shrugged. “I have a first aid badge,” she said. “You’d need about three years of training, assuming you met the minimal requirements. But it’s a good career, very respected.”

  John couldn't help himself. “Women are allowed to train as doctors?”

  “Of course,” Judith said. She smiled. “I considered it myself, for a while.”

  Konrad cleared his throat. “I trust the blood tests are satisfactory?”

  Judith turned her attention back to the terminal. “There’s no obvious red flags,” she said, after a moment. “Certainly no reason to deny you entry. I advise you to get a full genetic analysis performed before you consider getting married, but that’s something you’ll have to arrange for yourselves.”

  John rather doubted anyone would bother. He didn't know what a full genetic analysis was, let alone how to get one performed. Was there anyone in the Commune who did?

  “Your records have been entered into the datanet,” Judith added, after a moment. “The blood will probably be tested further, over the next few days. If there are any problems, we will alert you.”

  Konrad scowled. “And what will happen to it then?”

  “It will be disposed of,” Judith said, briskly. She produced a set of plastic cards, swept them through the terminal and handed them out. “These are your ID cards. Keep them with you at all times and present them on demand. There’s a steep fine for losing them, so don’t. If you are caught without a card, the consequences will not be pleasant.”

  She nodded towards the doors at the rear of the room. “If you walk through those doors, you’ll be shown to your accommodation.”

  John blinked. The card was semi-transparent plastic. No photo, no words ... he thought he could see a golden web under the plastic, but his eyes might be playing tricks on him. He peered closer, turning the card under the light. There was still nothing, apart from golden glints of light.

  He shook his head. “That was it?”

  “That was it,” Judith agreed. “Good luck.”

  Konrad nodded stiffly, then led the way towards the rear doors. John couldn't help noticing how Hannah hung back, as if she wanted to have a private word with Judith, before their mother caught her arm and pulled her forward. A flicker of ... distaste ... appeared on Judith’s face before vanishing, again. John felt a stab of bitter sympathy for Hannah, mingled with an emotion he didn't care to identify. His sister had never really fitted into the commune.

  Father would know what to do, he thought, as he passed through the doors. He’d have said something ... talked her out of being an idiot.

  A young man wearing a black uniform was waiting for them. John couldn't help thinking that he looked like a soldier, although he wasn't carrying any visible weapons. He greeted them shortly, then led them down a long series of corridors and through a set of giant chambers, all seemingly deserted. It looked, very much, as though the entire complex had been cleaned out before the Forsakers arrived. The only decorations were a set of paintings along one wall, all showing middle-aged men. One of them was very clearly a Forsaker.

  Joel coughed. “Who was he?”

  “Elder Simmons,” the young man said, curtly. He looked annoyed as he stopped under the painting. “Simmons was the sole surviving Elder of the original colonists by the time the second group of colonists arrived. Most history books agree that Simmons was the one to convince his people to abandon their ways and join the newcomers.”

  John hesitated, then leaned forward. “Most history books?”

  “There’s some dispute over just what actua
lly happened,” the young man said. He turned and strode back down the corridor, forcing them to hurry after him. “There are history books that insist Simmons was actually forced into surrender by his own people and others that suggest that he was given a flat choice between surrender or certain death. And then there are the books that say Simmons actually murdered the other Elders, although why is a source of some dispute.”

  “An Elder would not murder other Elders,” Konrad said, insistently.

  The young man glanced back at him. “People can do bad things when they’re under pressure,” he said. “The colony was doomed. Everyone knew the colony was doomed.”

  He led them through a large pair of doors and out onto a concrete path. There was a cluster of houses and warehouses and a large green field, the latter covered in huge tents. A cold wind blew across the field, making John shiver. His shirt and trousers had been designed for warmer weather. He wondered, suddenly, what had happened to their supplies. Had the police on Tarsus even bothered to pack up their clothing and send it after them?

  “You’ve been assigned one of the apartment suites, as befits your status,” the young man said, as they reached the nearest building. A large sign read SPACER HOTEL. Inside, it looked as dark and silent as the grave. “I’m afraid the room service isn't operational.”

  He smiled as he opened the glass door. The lights flickered on a second later, making John jump. There was something oddly unnerving about it. The lobby looked neat, but utterly bland and soulless. He couldn't help feeling a chill running down his spine as he followed their guide down another corridor and into a set of rooms.

  “Food and drink will be served outside,” the young man added. He showed them how to work the lights, shower and entertainment complex, then headed back to the door. “You can explore the complex, if you like, but don’t try to go past the fence.”

  Joel looked up. “Why?”

  “Because we don’t want you to,” the young man said. He nodded, politely. “Bye.”

  John watched him go, feeling cold. The apartment was nice enough, he had to admit, even though it did feel a little cramped and soulless. He had the feeling that Konrad, Joel and himself would be sleeping in the living room while the women had the bedroom. But at least, he admitted to himself, they weren't going to be in a tent.

  Konrad growled, just loudly enough to catch John’s attention. He was staring at Hannah, who was looking back at him defiantly. “Why did you talk to her?”

  “She’s a girl,” Hannah said. John winced, trying desperately to meet her eyes. She wasn't making any attempt to hide her defiance. “I was not talking to a man.”

  “You are not allowed to talk to Outsiders,” Konrad snapped. “None of you are allowed to talk to Outsiders.”

  Hannah glared at him. “You are not my father ...”

  Their mother lunged forward and slapped her, right across the cheek. John started forward, unsure what - if anything - he meant to do, but Joel caught his arm and held him as his mother slapped her daughter again.

  “He is your father,” she said, sharply. A thin trickle of blood was running down Hannah’s cheek, but she was still standing, still staring at them defiantly. “And you will listen to him.”

  “Get into the corner,” Konrad ordered. “You will remain there until bedtime. You will not have any food and drink until morning.”

  John gritted his teeth as Hannah turned and stamped towards the corner. Normally, he would have tried to sneak her some food, but he had no doubt that their mother or stepfather would be in the room, keeping a sharp eye on her. Hannah was defiant enough to walk away the moment their back was turned, even if she had nowhere to go. He wanted to say something in her defence, but he knew it would be futile. Konrad was their stepfather. His word was law.

  He could marry her off to Joel right now if he wanted, John thought. He felt cold. Hannah was his sister, yet he could do nothing to defend her. And she wouldn't be able to say no.

  Joel tugged him back. “Let’s go explore the complex,” he said, brightly. John wasn't fooled for a second. “Who knows what we will find?”

  “Fine,” John said. He checked the wardrobes, half-hoping someone had thought to leave a coat or an extra sweater behind. But there was nothing. “There’s nothing else to do.”

  “Not until evening prayers,” Konrad said. “I shall expect to see you both there.”

  John nodded. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would have a chance to slip back to the room and give Hannah something to eat. Putting her in the corner was one thing, but depriving her of food - when she hadn't eaten for hours - was quite another. He glanced at their mother, wondering how she could condone it. But how could he blame his mother for not standing up to their stepfather when he didn't have the nerve either?

  “As you wish,” he said, shortly.

  Konrad gave him a nasty look, but said nothing. John sighed, then allowed Joel to lead him out of the room. Perhaps they could find something to eat ...

  It wasn't much, but it was all he had.

  Chapter Twelve

  An alternate problem, which plagued the Empire until its fall, was the simple fact that corporations had a nasty habit of shipping in workers (miners and their supporters, for example) to worlds where they were needed, then abandoning them there. The newcomers rarely integrated well with the locals.

  - Professor Leo Caesius. Ethnic Streaming and the End of Empire.

  The Houses of Parliament sat on the other side of Lothian from Government House, something William had been assured would help separate the different branches of government and prevent the rise of a political caste. Looking at the MPs as they took their places on the benches, wearing ties to denote their political afflictions, he couldn't help thinking it had failed. Far too many MPs voted in line with their party rather than thinking for themselves.

  At least we avoided some of the bigger pitfalls, he thought. Our MPs only serve for two-terms each.

  Sondra stepped up beside him. “The polling is still close,” she muttered, keeping her voice low despite the constant buzz of chatter. “It could go either way.”

  William nodded. There were five hundred MPs in the chamber, two hundred and forty of them Empire Loyalists. It was a solid block, in theory, but he knew that at least two dozen of his MPs were wavering. The Unionists might back the government on this issue - he’d gone to some trouble to urge them to do just that - yet they’d have to remain solid if all the wavering MPs deserted. And who knew what would happen if the Freeholders remained united.

  I can kick a wavering MP out of the party, he thought, sourly. The system had been intended to produce a whole series of checks and balances. But his constituents might return him in a by-election.

  His gaze swept the chamber. Steven Troutman, Leader of the Opposition, was sitting in the forefront of the opposition benches. Tad Cleaves, Leader of the Isolationists, was sitting next to him. The Freeholders and the Isolationists disagreed on a lot of things, but it was evident that Troutman and Cleaves were considering making common cause. If their MPs voted together - and the Unionists refused to back the Empire Loyalists - the bill would not pass. It was as simple as that. William sought out Pamela Davis, Leader of the Unionists, but she was sitting towards the rear of the chamber, chatting with an Independent MP. He couldn't help thinking that was an ill omen.

  “Honourable Members of Parliament,” the Speaker said. He rose from his chair, his long wig masking his features. “Please take your places.”

  William sat down, resting his hands in his lap. The bill had been written and sent, in draft form, to the MPs. There was little else he could do now, but make the case for it as best as he could.

  “The Honourable Members of Parliament for Dunny-On-The Wold and Haltemprice have sent their apologies,” the Speaker continued. “As they are not present within the chamber, their votes will not be taken into consideration.”

  And they haven't tried to twin their votes either, William thought, making a mental note to ha
ve a word with the Party Whip. Two MPs choosing to remain absent rather than toe the party line or make a stand against it? It was cowardly as hell. They just gave the Opposition two free votes.

  He kept his face impassive, despite his irritation and the rustle of conversation running through the chamber as the MPs hastily recalculated the odds. On the other side of the chamber, Troutman looked pleased. William wondered, idly, just what sort of under-the-table deal had been done, if any. The voting population wouldn't forgive outright treachery, but the Leader of the Opposition could offer all sorts of incentives to an MP who switched sides. And yet, it was possible that the cowards had simply been reluctant to commit themselves ...

  The Speaker tapped his staff against the ground for silence. “The issue before us is the Refugee and Resettlement Bill, proposed in Year 302,” he continued. “I call upon the Premier to speak in favour of the bill.”