About Sisterland (12 page)

“What do you see?”

“I see a troubled woman. I see a lonely woman.”

“You see all that with your eyes covered?”

“I see all that with my heart.”

“What else do you see with your heart, Harper?”

“I see sunlight through branches, making patterns on the earth below. I see the leaves uncurl and spread out to take shape. I see the knots on the trunk of my favourite tree, where I lean my face for comfort.”

“Help me to see your forest.”

As before, they sat on the pop-up while he talked, and she listened. Once, she rested her palm against his chest, testing its warmth. Needing to touch him, although she didn’t understand why. Harper stopped speaking, and she could feel his muscles flex under her hand. When she took it away, he resumed his storytelling as if nothing had happened.

Later, she said, “Your body is smooth. I thought men were hairier than women.”

“I’ve never seen a woman’s body. Nor a woman’s face, either. Why do you wear your skin to a mating cube?”

“The Mating Mother says we mustn’t show our faces.”

“But I’m wearing a blindfold.”

“I know. It’s just one of the rules.”

“Does the skin itch?”

“I can’t remember a time when I didn’t wear it. You hardly notice it’s on.”

“It’s to protect you from pollutants, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t men at risk from these pollutants?”

“Skins are expensive. Women have to save up for them, and get loans.” A shadow-moe of guilt strummed. She changed the subject. “Did they give you one of those pills? To make you mating-ready?”

“They’re handed out every night. But I hid it under my tongue again. They didn’t bother checking if I swallowed. They think we don’t notice what happens to men who take their pills year after year. They think we’re not capable of working it out.”

“Don’t be cross. I don’t distribute those pills.”

He didn’t reply.

“Ask me a question. I seem to do all the asking,” she went on.

“Why do you call us meets? Why not men?”

“It’s just a word. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it? We have a name for you, too.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you another time.”

“Tell me now.”

“Is that an order?”

“I’m not ordering you to do anything, Harper. I couldn’t.”

“Machines. As in time to oil the machines. It’s what we say when mating time approaches.”

Constance felt demeaned: an all-out moe. She’d had enough – she was going to leave right now. She stepped into her pumps, fingers sliding round the backs of her heels. “Do you call me that in front of the others?”

“I wouldn’t do that. You must trust me.” Deliberately, he batted back the words she’d used earlier.

Rubbing her thumb against the crystal ball in her hand, she wondered about activating it so that she could leave. But she didn’t. Slowly, she sat back down. This man had a knack for stinging her. Yet she still wanted to talk with him. Quietly, she said, “We were interrupted last night. You were just about to tell me about the waterfall in your forest. I’d like to hear about it now, if you’d like to tell me.”

He waited for a few beats, and she thought he might not cooperate. But then he began to describe the frothing torrent and the awe it inspired, and companionship took the place of tension.

Until a bell rang inside the cube. And he stopped in mid-sentence.

Their time was up too soon. Constance looked at Harper. He had a mole on his left cheek, which she felt an impulse to touch. Did he want to touch her, too? She couldn’t tell.

“
Your two hours are up
,” said the automated voice.

“Till tomorrow, Constance?” he mouthed.

It was the first time he’d used her name. She realised she’d been wanting to hear it in his mouth.

And that question in his voice. Maybe he wanted her to come again. As the door creaked open, she sent a smile sailing towards him. Even if he couldn’t see it, she hoped he could sense it.

In the respite room, Constance looked for Benevolence. A page told her she was in a cubicle. When Constance tried to get in, she found the way barred by Humility, one of Charity’s helpers.

“Please,” she said, “I won’t tire her out. I just want to check she’s all right.”

“You can only have a minute,” said Humility.

Benevolence looked wan, but she seemed calm as she sat on a pop-up with her back to the wall, drinking tea from a pottery cup. Constance sat beside her, and accepted a cup. She couldn’t identify the flavour. Wood bark, perhaps? It tasted gritty.

“Before you ask, it’s evening-primrose tea,” said Benevolence. “Supposed to help boost fertility. And it has soothing properties. Apparently, wine overstimulates me. Who knew tea could deliver so much?”

“It doesn’t taste of any kind of flower, especially not primrose.”

“It tastes of pee. But the Mating Mother thinks I ought to drink it, and who am I to argue?” She rolled the pottery container between her hands. “So, mission accomplished in the mating cube?”

Constance lowered her eyes. Twice in a mating cube, and twice she had sat talking with the man instead of attempting to babyfuse. It wasn’t as if the idea revolted her – in fact, she’d like to feel Harper’s hands on her. But she wanted him to do it willingly, not because he was compelled. “I should go for a wash.” She remembered she was supposed to feel sticky and nauseated.

“You enjoy mating,” said Benevolence. “I can see it in your face.”

I enjoy being with Harper, thought Constance. I go to him voluntarily. But he has to be blindfolded and led to me.

“You know,” Benevolence went on, “women used to pick out meets, the way animals do. Several meets would compete for a female. But the Nine stopped that, in case the act of choosing gave us an attachment to the man. It might lead to intimacy, which couldn’t be tolerated. Imagine if a woman thought she was in a relationship with a meet, and prioritised their bond above loyalty to Sisterland!”

Humility cleared her throat, one hand on her stifstat. “Constance should leave you now. You’re overtired.”

“Just a few more minutes. Please. Could you ask a page for some hot water for my tea? It’s gone cold. The Mating Mother said I was to drink as much as I could manage.”

With some reluctance, Humility left the cubicle.

Benevolence went on, “In my line of work, I come across all sorts of unacceptable thoughts that have to be crunched. Here’s something I discovered: in PS days, women used something called contraception. It was a way of stopping babyfusion.”

Constance recoiled. “Why would a woman want to stop it? Surely that’s the whole point of mating?”

“Babyfusion wasn’t the only reason for them to mate. They did it for pleasure. Think about it – women and men mating for pleasure, not purpose. We’re more like men than we like to admit.”

Benevolence’s hands began to shake, spilling tea. Constance reached out and took the cup. “Constance, they give us mead here to help us feel the mating urge. When we leave, they give us something else to bank it down again. They say it’s impossible to feel the mating urge naturally. They tell us we’ve lost it. But it hasn’t been lost.”

“Enough!” cried Humility, who had just stepped back in
.

Words tumbled from Benevolence, faster and faster. “It’s been taken away from us. For their convenience. By our skins. That’s what stops us feeling the mating urge.”

“This conversation is terminated!” cried Humility. “Leave us, Constance.” She started pushing Constance through the door.

Benevolence was yelling now. “Skins stop us feeling all sorts of moes. That’s why they order us to wear our skins in the mating cube. They’re afraid we’ll feel too much, and become disruptive. What if –”

Humility sprang forward and placed a hand on Benevolence’s mouth. “You need sedation!”

As Constance stood outside the cubicle, Verity and Purity came tearing past from the mating floor, brushing her aside.

When Constance went in search of Benevolence the following morning, she could find her nowhere. In the readying room, staff were scattering dried lavender on the floor, where it pooled in fragrant bundles. She saw Unity giving instructions to one of the lavender-sowers, and approached her.

“Unity, do you know where I could find Benevolence?”

“The Mating Mother had to send her away.”

“Why? When?”

“In the night. She became volatile, moe-unhinged, and lashed out. Charity almost had to use the stifstat on her. But the Mating Mother stepped in.”

“No! She can’t have done anything to deserve the stifstat! Poor Benevolence.”

“She’ll be well taken care of, sister. Don’t let it concern you.” Unity moved off.

But Constance followed. “Spirited away in the night. It sounds heavy-handed.”

“Serenity is crucial. Above all, in matingplace. We can’t afford any disturbance.”

“Forgive me if I spoke out of turn. Where was Benevolence taken? I’d like to visit her.”

“She’s in good hands. But right now, she’s overstimulated. She needs isolation from outside influences. It wouldn’t be appropriate to pay a visit.”

“But where is she?” Constance persisted.

Unity’s eyes darted left and right. She ran her tongue over her lips, and said under her breath,
“She’s on her way to Safe Space.”

“That’s a bit extreme, surely!”

“Shh! You’ll get us both in trouble!”

Constance kept her voice low. “Something must have happened to provoke her.”

“Watch what you’re saying! We don’t provoke our guests.”

“Sorry. But could something have sparked this . . . episode?”

“The Mating Mother paid her a visit. She told Benevolence she wasn’t allowed to proceed with mating at the Tower, and a report recommending withdrawal of her permit would be sent to the Mating Board. Benevolence reacted in an unfortunate manner.”

“No wonder – she desperately wants to be a source.”

“Wanting isn’t good enough. You have to be approved.”

“Approved for what?” It was the Mating Mother. She looked from Constance to Unity. Her little foot tapped.

“To be a source, mother,” said Unity.

“Indeed. Being a source is the ultimate act of sisterdom. Sources must be vetted – rigorously – to make sure the best candidates are selected. Do you really have time to stand about gossiping, Unity?”

Unity melted away.

“But Benevolence must have been vetted if she had a licence,” said Constance.

“Sadly, Benevolence is not what I’d call a top girl. This is her fifth season. A lot can happen in that time. A woman’s mental state may deteriorate. Potential sources must be supervised closely.”

Constance warned herself not to say something she’d regret. Don’t even think it, she told herself

“Your own certificate is only for three months,” continued the Mating Mother. “I understand it’s a temporary accreditation. So you’ll have to go for a full round of testing if you haven’t babyfused by then. Of course, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t get the nod. Somebody obviously believes you have special talents to offer Sisterland, or you wouldn’t be here.” She gave Constance a cool appraisal. “I hope you live up to expectations.”

Chapter 10

On their third night together, Harper and Constance fell to considering how names were allocated. He told her he had no registration number by way of a surname, as she did: his trade and location identified him. He was Harper the Forester, from the Brown Convolution middle belt, which meant he was inventoried as Harper FOR-BC. He held up his wrist to show her his sig.

“What’s that?” Constance pointed to a bow-shaped character.

“It’s the symbol for a meet. Now I’m Harper FOR-BC ∞ .”

“It’s pretty.”

He shrugged. “It’s for record-keeping. At least my first name was chosen for me.”

“Who by?”

“My source. That’s more than some sons get.”

“She must have been a prominent Sisterlander.”

“Why do you say that?”

“A source has to make a case for being allowed to name her boy-man before he’s taken away. Often, it’s a reward for services to the State. It means she had status.”

“Which is more than me. I’m just a meet.”

“Not in my eyes. You’re Harper the Forester to me. Whose name was chosen by his source. Who wanted to name him.”

“Yes, I try to remember that when I think about her giving me away to strangers.”

“She had no choice. Perhaps the name Harper meant something to her. It suits you.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I look like her.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I look like the man who mated with my source.”

“Do you know anything about him?

“Nothing. My source changes the subject any time I raise it. She mated, babyfused, and blanked everything else out. Exactly as a good Sisterlander should.”