Culture Shock

by Christopher Nuttall

  She shook her head as she walked down the stairs, glancing from side to side as she wandered the grey corridors. The Forsakers rarely chose to return to the spaceport, even though it was technically open to them. They didn't like the interior, Judith had heard. She didn't really blame them. Arthur’s Seat had never attracted enough interstellar shipping to make expanding and modifying the spaceport worthwhile. There was certainly no need for an extensive network of hotels, shops and red light districts ... she’d heard that Earth’s spaceports had been surrounded by wretched hives of scum and villainy, although the entire planet probably counted as a wretched hive. And now it was gone ...

  A banging sound caught her attention. She tensed, one hand going to the panic button in her pocket. Director Melbourne had issued them reluctantly, warning her workers not to use them unless truly necessary. Judith rather suspected the director would be furious with anyone who did, even if they were in real danger. Director Melbourne seemed more interested in keeping things quiet rather than anything else.

  She inched forward. The sound was coming from a side room, one that had probably served as an office before the spaceport had been converted into a refugee centre. Keeping one hand on the button, she peered through the door and saw a dark-haired girl sitting on the floor, holding one hand against her cheek. The girl looked up as Judith entered, her eyes going wide with shock before relaxing, slightly. There were ugly red marks on both of her cheeks.

  Judith stared. She recognised the girl. She was the sole girl who’d asked questions during registration. The others had kept their eyes on the floor, either sneaking glances at Judith or just keeping their heads bowed. But this one had asked questions ...

  She found her voice. “What happened to you?”

  “My mother was not pleased with me,” the girl said. She had an accent that suggested Imperial Standard wasn't her first language, although Judith could name a dozen entertainment stars who sounded vaguely funny to her ears. Imperial Standard was spoken right across the galaxy, but each planet put its own twist on the words. “She didn't like me asking questions.”

  Judith hesitated, then closed the door and knelt down next to the girl. “Why? Are you not supposed to ask questions?”

  The girl looked up at her. “We’re not supposed to be interested in your affairs.”

  Judith swallowed. “What ... what’s your name?”

  “Hannah,” the girl said. She didn't seem surprised or offended that Judith had forgotten her name, merely ... accepting. Perhaps she’d wanted to be forgotten. “Hannah, Daughter of John.”

  “And Daughter of Mary,” Judith said. She remembered now. “And Stepdaughter of Konrad.”

  “That’s not part of my name,” Hannah said. “I never chose to assume it.”

  Judith sighed. “What happened to you?”

  Hannah laughed, bitterly. “I was slapped, then dumped in the corner, then kept busy until now ... I just slipped off.”

  “They can't just slap you,” Judith said, appalled. Her father had been strict, but he’d never slapped her face. A blow to the head could cause permanent damage. “They can't ...”

  Hannah rose, moving stiffly. “They can,” she said. She shook her head as she leant against the wall. “As long as I am under their roof, I am under their rules.”

  It had the air of something repeated by rote. Judith looked down, utterly unsure what to say or do. Hannah ... looked resigned, almost accepting. And yet, there was a spike of defiance in her.

  “You’re old enough to leave,” Judith said, finally. “When they open the wire, run off and don’t look back.”

  Hannah laughed, humourlessly. “I’d be leaving my mother and brother behind,” she said, sardonically. “They’d never see me again.”

  Judith was tempted to point out that might not be a bad thing. Her mother had died when she was very young and her father had never remarried, but she wouldn't have stayed with a woman who slapped her for asking questions. And a brother who did nothing ... if he didn’t take part in the tormenting. Her elder brother had been a pain at times - it seemed to be a universal rule - but she’d never doubted he loved her. Perhaps it was different amongst the Forsakers.

  It struck her, suddenly, that Hannah was hungry. The way she leaned against the wall ... technically, she should tell her to get some food. But if Hannah wanted to stay away from her family ... Judith sighed, then reached into her pocket and removed a ration bar. The refugees had been complaining, loudly, about being forced to eat them, but Hannah took it, unwrapped it and ate it with every evidence of gusto. She had to be hungry. No one who wasn't on the verge of starvation would cram a cardboard-flavoured ration bar into their mouth so eagerly.

  “Thank you,” Hannah said, finally.

  Judith looked at her. “Do you want to stay?”

  “No,” Hannah admitted. “But I don’t want to abandon my family either. If I leave them here ... they’ll never see me again.”

  “You could go back,” Judith pointed out.

  “I couldn't,” Hannah insisted. “Anyone who leaves, anyone who walks away, is automatically shunned. I couldn't return to the commune.”

  Judith felt a sudden surge of sympathy as she saw the problem confronting Hannah. Unlike Gayle, unlike anyone else she knew, Hannah and the others who thought like her were caught in a trap. If they left, they could never return; if they stayed, they were trapped. And while she would have walked away from parents like that, Hannah seemed to feel differently. The Forsakers seemed to consider families to be of great importance.

  So do we, she thought. But we just express it differently.

  “I see,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  Hannah sighed, still leaning against the wall. “What’s it like? Living here, I mean?”

  Judith hesitated. “You get to make your own choices,” she said, finally. “But you also have to deal with the consequences.”

  “Consequences?”

  “I ...” Judith scowled. It wasn't a happy memory. “One of my friends turned sixteen a few years ago - his father was a moonshiner, so his birthday party included vast amounts of bathtub gin. I drank and drank and drank ... and spent the next few days feeling utterly wretched. My father was completely unsympathetic.”

  “My parents would have disowned me,” Hannah said, quietly. “Why was your friend allowed the alcohol?”

  “He was old enough to make his own choices,” Judith told her. “Growing up on a farm ... you get given a lot of responsibility. Dad ... dad said some lessons had to be learnt the hard way. Drinking so much taught me a lesson.”

  Hannah smiled. “Don’t drink?”

  “Something like that,” Judith admitted. “Why aren’t you supposed to ask questions?”

  There was a long pause. “We are told that technology weakens the soul,” Hannah said, finally. “That technology weakens us. That ...”

  She shook her head. “Life is different for us, I think,” she added. “Really.”

  “You’re still human,” Judith said.

  Hannah shrugged. “There were girls my age, on Tarsus, who were wrecked,” she said. “I knew girls who thought nothing of having a whole string of boyfriends. They weren't courting, they were ... they were doing it. And they would brag about doing it. And there were boys who didn't care about the risks of ... doing stuff with the girls. I knew girls who were mothers at my age, unmarried mothers. And there were ... things ... on the datanet that were utterly unspeakable.”

  She shook her head. “No one gave their parents any respect,” she added. “And no one really cared about their lives.”

  “They had no responsibility,” Judith said.

  “Yeah,” Hannah agreed. “There were pupils at my school who could threaten the teachers and get away with it. And teachers who would ... who would sleep with their pupils. And governors who ...”

  She sighed. “But our society has its problems too,” she added. “I don’t want to fit in.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Judit
h said.

  “Technology can be used for good or ill,” she added, after a moment. Her father had taught her how to shoot hunting rifles as soon as she was old enough, warning her that a gun was a tool. How she used it was up to her. “For all the evil it does, it can also do great good.”

  Hannah frowned. “How?”

  “Your people have a weak immune system,” Judith said, after a moment. She’d heard whispers through the grapevine. “There are diseases, relatively minor diseases, that will cripple you, if you got infected. Or worse. My immune system is much stronger, thanks to genetic manipulation. Those diseases wouldn't get a grip on me.”

  She leaned forward. “And, because our immune systems are much better, there’s no risk of you catching anything from us,” she added. “Our technology protects you even though you don’t have those genetic tweaks.”

  “Oh,” Hannah said.

  Judith reached into her pocket and pulled out the portable com. “I can call anyone on the planet with this,” she added. “If your mother was on the other side of the world ... you could call her. You wouldn't need to be right next to her to talk to her.”

  “I know those,” Hannah said. She looked uneasy. “There were girls who used to exchange pictures of themselves with the boys.”

  “It happens,” Judith said. “No one told them the dangers, I think.”

  Hannah met her eyes. “Did they tell you?”

  “My father sat me down and had a long talk with me about it before he bought my first personal com,” Judith said. Her father had been blunt enough to make her cringe. And he’d made it absolutely clear that he would be monitoring her behaviour online until she turned sixteen. “He said that I had to remember that he would be watching.”

  “And that you shouldn't do anything you knew he would disapprove of,” Hannah said. “But you could meet a boy, you could talk to him behind your father’s back.”

  “I talk to my girlfriend with it,” Judith said.

  Hannah didn't seem to hear her. “There were girls who used to have a dozen online boyfriends,” she said, her voice weak. “They weren't real.”

  “People tend to grow out of it,” Judith said. She had a few online friends, but she preferred people she actually met in real life. “It’s funny how serious things seem when you don’t feel like an adult.”

  Hannah looked at her. “Do you want to get married?”

  “Not yet,” Judith said. She had no idea if Gayle would be interested in marriage. “Why?”

  “Mother wants me to get married,” Hannah said. “And I will be married, as soon as we are settled. That’s a given.”

  Judith recoiled. “They can't force you to marry someone.”

  Hannah gave her a look that suggested she’d said something very silly. “Of course they can,” she said. “Either I marry Joel or I leave. They’ll make my life hell if I refuse.”

  “... Shit,” Judith said.

  She stared at Hannah, torn between pity and horror. Gayle had never told her, never even hinted, that she might have to marry someone else one day. But she wouldn't have to marry someone. The Forsakers on Arthur’s Seat didn't keep the old traditions. And if they did, society would crucify them. But everything was different now.

  “You can't be a child of two worlds,” she breathed. “You either stay with your family or cut all ties to them.”

  “Yes,” Hannah said. “There’s nowhere else to go.”

  She sighed, bitterly. “And I don’t even know where I can go.”

  Judith closed her eyes in pain. Hannah was right. She had no birth certificate, no educational qualifications, nothing to imply she was suitable for a job ... any job. Hannah was pretty enough, in a pinched sort of way, but she was ignorant as hell. The Forsakers might talk about farms - she’d lost count of the number of men who’d asked her when they’d get their farms - yet they didn't know how to work one. Hannah ...

  She could apply for university or vocational training, Judith thought. She’d have to spend some time working in menial jobs, if only to keep herself afloat, but that wouldn't be difficult. There were no shortage of jobs waiting tables. And that would get her on the right track.

  “Wait until you get out of the wire,” she said, finally. “There will be other options.”

  “I should have stayed on Tarsus,” Hannah said. “There were jobs there, if I chose to walk away ...”

  The door crashed open. Judith turned, just in time to see three young men storm into the room. Their expressions ... her hand dived into her pocket and triggered the panic alarm before her mind quite caught up with her actions. They were furious.

  “On your feet,” the leader growled. Hannah’s brother? No, her stepbrother. He caught Judith’s arm and yanked her up. “Now!”

  Hannah let out a yelp. “Joel ...”

  “Now,” Joel growled. He shoved Judith against the wall, then caught Hannah. Judith had no time to do anything before one of the other men caught her, gripping her upper arm so tight she knew she didn't have a hope of breaking the hold. “Move it!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  But when a greedy corporation set eyes on their territory and discovered that the inhabitants were unwilling to sell, the corporation went to the government, convinced the government to authorise a repossession (a land grab, in all but name) and then shipped in thousands of workers to mine the land.

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

  Joel was beyond furious.

  Hannah sneaking out of the apartment when her mother’s back was turned was quite bad enough, but sneaking into the spaceport? She’d been told - they’d all been told - not to go back into the spaceport, whatever happened. Joel wouldn't even have thought to look for her if he hadn't known there was nowhere else to hide. A young girl would draw attention anywhere in the giant campsite.

  And talking to an Outsider?

  He yanked Hannah forward, barely resisting the temptation to slap some sense into her pretty head. Didn't she know the danger of talking to Outsiders? Didn't she understand the risk she was running? Didn't she realise that she could lose what remained of her reputation? Or that the entire community might reject her if she persisted? Joel’s friends wouldn't talk - he’d make sure of that - but someone else might easily have spotted her. And that person would blab before Joel even knew who to browbeat into silence.

  Hannah resisted, just for a second. She wasn't as strong as him, but she tried to resist even though it was futile. It would have been admirable, in a man. In a woman, it was merely annoying. He shoved her out the door, barely aware of Adam clutching the Outsider bitch by the upper arm. How dare she speak to Hannah? Didn't she know Forsakers would defend the honour of their women? Joel remembered threatening a couple of boys, back on Tarsus, for showing interest in Forsaker girls. It had been easy to convince them to stay well away from the girls. Outsiders didn't have the courage to stand up for themselves.

  He opened his mouth to berate her, then closed it sharply. It wasn't his job, not yet. Her mother - and her stepfather - would have to pronounce her punishment. She would be under their authority until she married him, whereupon ... he silently promised himself that he wouldn't put up with bad behaviour. They were only getting married as a favour to his stepmother. He was doing her a favour! Couldn't she see that?

  They slammed the door open and dragged the two girls out into the maze of tents. Joel gritted his teeth as dozens of eyes turned to look at them, some clearly amused. It wasn't the first time someone had been dragged back to face their parents, but it was always amusing to onlookers. Joel’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and humiliation. The mere presence of the Outsider girl meant that Hannah’s reputation was going to suffer, no matter what happened afterwards. He was going to be married to a loose woman ...

  The Outsider girl resisted, stubbornly. Joel turned, just in time to see her aim a nasty-looking kick at Adam’s groin. Adam twisted, barely avoiding a blow that would have unmanned him, then pushed
the Outsider to the ground. Joel stared, unsure what to do. He honestly hadn't expected Hannah to have company, certainly not Outsider company. A Forsaker could have been dragged back for public punishment, but an Outsider ...?

  “Get her on her feet,” he ordered, sharply. He could hear the sound of running footsteps from the terminal building. “Now.”

  “Let go of me,” the Outsider girl snapped. “You ...”

  Adam slapped her, hard. She twisted, then tried to kick him again. Adam caught her arms, yanking her forward as Olaf caught hold of her legs, carrying her between them like a lumpy bedroll. The girl screamed and swore at them in a manner that would have been shocking, if she’d been a Forsaker. Joel’s father would have washed his mouth out with soap if he’d let even one of her words cross his lips.