About Sisterland (24 page)

“I don’t care what happens to me. But I want this baby. Whatever the cost. If I’m allowed to have my baby, I’ll go to MUM afterwards. No fuss.”

“Babyfusion must turn a woman’s brain to ocean tea. It’s not a case of either-or. The Nine makes the rules – you don’t get to negotiate.” Modesty looked Constance over, head on one side. “You didn’t take long to babyfuse. Risky business, since they jizzed it up to three months. Everything puffs up: body parts you’d never expect to bloat – throats, hands, you name it. I knew a progress-monitor whose eardrums swelled. She was tormented with ear bleeds.”

Constance walked away from her chatter. She had nothing against Modesty, but if these were her final hours as herself, she didn’t want to spend them hearing about the downside to babyfusion. Concentrating, she conjured up Harper’s face. The sound of his voice. The smell of pears on his breath. The touch of his hands. His passion for his forest. Soon, she might no longer be able to call him up. Would her mind even realise something was missing? She could hear the blood thundering through her ears. Wrapping her arms about her body, she stifled a sob.

Dimly, she became conscious of Modesty rubbing her between the shoulder blades. She seemed to be apologising for blurting out the truth about MUM. When Constance was in command of herself, she said, “The mother thinks she’s talked them round. But the Nine won’t take a chance on me. I make those big, important sisters nervous. I tried to keep them back, but I guess my doubts about Sisterland showed through.”

“Have you any idea what you’re saying?”

“Sorry, Modesty, I suppose I’ve alarmed you.”

“But I agree with you. Lots of us have to hide our true thoughts.”

“Really? You, too? You question the way Sisterland is run?”

“Some things could be done differently.”

The admission was unexpected. Modesty gave the appearance of being the ultimate insider. Granted, she had a cheeky side, but she wouldn’t last long as the mother’s assistant unless she was trusted.

Modesty caught her by the elbow. “Come over to the waterfall. I want to show you something.” They reached a miniature waterfall tumbling over a rockery. “Acid yellow. Who in their right minds would turn water that colour? Stand closer, Constance. Makes it harder for eavesdroppers.”

“Are they listening in?” asked Constance.

“Maybe. They tend to be. It’s a habit that stuck. From the early days of Sisterland, when they kept expecting men to mount a coup against them. After four years in Shaperhaus, I do my fair share of it. Strictly unofficially, mind you. Just for my own purposes. To keep up.” She turned her hands over, studying the henna swirls on them. “The Nine wants women and men kept apart, but we have to connect for mating. And some sisters discover they like it. They like their meets, too.
It’s true. And that threatens the Nine. Inter-gender
relationships
would destabilise Sisterland. So the Nine vetoes Himtime except for babyfusion, and justifies it by saying the sex instinct has withered away. Except it hasn’t. Some sisters would mate with men outside ovulation, if they were allowed. Some sisters would do it as an end in itself. For pleasure.” Modesty tilted her head to one side, and a knowing tone entered her voice. “I see you understand what I’m talking about.”

“Why don’t you put in for a babyfusion permit, Modesty? Won’t the mother part with you?”

“They turned me down. I can’t reproduce – my internal plumbing’s defective. So I’ll never be allowed to mate.” 

Even with MUM hanging over her, Constance felt for Modesty. “Poor you.” She touched Modesty’s hand lightly.

“No, poor you. What they’re doing to you isn’t fair. Not that ‘fair’ matters to the Nine. Especially not to Innocence – she’s a joyless one. Has her eye on Gracious’s seat as the number one sister, too. Ambition’s supposed to be a restricted moe. But she has an ambitious streak wider than the wings above Shaperhaus. The Nine isn’t really interested in other Sisterlanders. It’s what’s best for the Nine – that’s what counts. Power is everything. Dried-up old crones.”

“Except they’re not, are they, Modesty? I’ve never seen them in the flesh before. I was surprised. They looked – not young exactly – but new-minted.”

Modesty watched the waterfall tangle through tastefully selected pebbles. Constance thought she looked nervous.

“What is it, Modesty?”

“You’re right. A sister starts getting fresher-looking as soon as she joins the Nine. I don’t know why. Nobody ever mentions it. It’s as if we’re not even supposed to notice.” The look she gave Constance brimmed with foreboding.

There was a chirrup on her comtel, and Modesty checked the screen. “The mother wants you back indoors.”

A Sistercentral aide was waiting with the Shaper Mother. The Nine had decided to sleep on its decision: Constance should present herself at Sistercentral at eight the following morning.

“I’ll meet you in the foyer,” the mother told Constance.

“Pardon me, mother, you aren’t required,” said the aide.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting her go through this alone. She’s under my supervision.”

“The Nine’s instructions were that no-one is to accompany her.”

“They can’t have meant to exclude me, surely.”

“No-one is an explicit term, mother.”

“I see. Come with me, Constance.”

Outside the chamber, she halted and beckoned to Constance.

“An overnight delay is highly unusual,” she said. “It means they can’t agree on your case. They must be almost evenly divided, five Sisters to four. All that’s needed for unmapping is a two-thirds majority.”

“So I might be off the hook?” 

The mother ran a hand across the top of her skull. “You might be.” Her smile was an instant torn from tension.

A spring uncoiled inside Constance. “Honour is
protecting  me,” she said.

“Perhaps. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.”

As they walked to the Sistercentral exit, Modesty fell into step beside them. In the courtyard, the mother stood, watching a woman spray a row of ornamental trees to stop the leaves falling. A gentle whoosh came from her equipment. When leaves needed to be replaced they were detached by vacuum suction.

“The mother’s shaken – she never loiters,” hissed Modesty. “What’s the Nine’s verdict?”

“No decision yet. I’m to return to Sistercentral tomorrow.”

Collecting herself, the Shaper Mother began marching towards the Buzz. Her strides made no allowances for the thundery atmosphere, and Constance and Modesty grew sticky keeping up. At the entrance to the Sistercentral station, she drew to a halt. “Which direction do you go in, Constance?”

“The Oblong zone, mother.”

“I’ll say goodbye here, then. Don’t be tempted to stay away from Sistercentral tomorrow. Otherwise, peers will arrive on your doorstep. Cooperation is always the best policy. Modesty, why don’t you keep Constance company? Take her to Moe Express – my treat. Choose something . . . something to help her look on the bright side.”

“There’s a bright side to any of this?” asked Constance.

The mother didn’t respond. Turning, she marched away.

Modesty tugged Constance by the elbow, steering her towards the train platforms. “No point in falling out with the only champion you have.”

Constance relented, looking down at Modesty, whose head didn’t quite reach her earlobe. “You
make me feel tall.”

“I make everybody feel tall. It’s my gift to the sisterhood. But what I’d like to make you feel right now is grateful to the mother. She’s on your side.”

“She’s not the decision-maker.”

A train approached.

“I’d just as soon be on my own, if you don’t mind,” Constance said. “Don’t worry, I’ll go straight home like a good Sisterlander.”

“You’re not shaking me off till you juice up. We’ll find a Moe Express near your unit, then I’ll leave you alone. The mother’s suggestions aren’t suggestions, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Modesty’s voice softened. “We’ll get you something to help you make it through till tomorrow. We can’t have you sitting up all night fretting.”

Once seated on the Buzz, Modesty produced a vac-pump and set about removing the faint mould left on her clothes by the air. Constance watched the brown hand busy with its task. Modesty kept up a running commentary. Words were flooding from her, threatening to drown Constance.

She turned her face towards the passing cityscape and fixed on the child inside her: part Harper, part Constance, part itself. If she believed it would live, with every atom of her being, then the power of belief would protect it. It must.

The Buzz cornered towards Octagon station, and against the skyline the curve of the Hope Bridge could just be glimpsed beyond the stop. And a piece of jigsaw puzzle slotted into place for Constance. The Buzz stopped, its doors opening. Constance watched for her chance and, as the carriage doors began shutting, she darted through.

“Hey!” Modesty’s arms flailed, but the doors closed before she could follow.

Constance didn’t look back. She jumped over the exit barrier and, running as though her life depended on it, made straight for the bridge where Silence had discontinued.

Chapter 21

At the Hope Bridge, a configuration of women with red scarves milled about. Constance slowed to a halt, lungs gasping for air. She pushed through the crowd until she reached one of the bridge’s supports, so close she could smell
the metal. Laying her hand on it, she tipped back her head. Above the viaduct the clouds were torrid – a mirror for the turbulence she was feeling – and for the commotion on the ground, she realised, as the numbers congregated there registered with her. What were so many people doing at the bridge? And why were they all staring in the same direction? Something on one of the bridge’s series of arches had snared their attention. Constance followed their line of vision, but could distinguish nothing out of the ordinary. The flowery scent she associated with the Silenced, underscored by the cloying tang of decay, attacked her nostrils, and she started coughing.

A hand thumped her back. “The red scarf is distinctive,” said a familiar voice.

It was Goodwill. By this stage, surprise was beyond Constance.

“It gives them an identity,” continued Goodwill. “I heard they wear it because Silence had one on when she discontinued.”

“She was wearing a red scarf when she jumped,” said Constance. “But it wasn’t tied securely, and blew off halfway down. A peer told me. She said eye-witnesses claimed it flew through the sky. Escaping. Like Silence, in a way.” Exhaustion pummelled her. “I think I’ll go home now. I needed to be here, to see where it happened. I never came before. But it’s too crowded.”

“You can’t leave without seeing her,” said Goodwill.

“Who?”

“Silence.”

Goodwill pointed towards a central section of the bridge, around which the knot of Silenced was thickest.

Constance began to elbow her way through the throng. “Out of the way. Let me pass.” In a society where politeness was prized, her behaviour was unusual, and sisters stared as they backed away.

She stopped by a ridged metal trunk, the thickness of four women, holding up the bridge. Silence had climbed this support, according to observers. Constance wished she didn’t know this piece of information, but it had been passed on to her by a peer. It was clear why Silence had chosen it: the centre upright was the only one with convenient edges offering toeholds. This pilgrimage ought to have been made when there was nobody about. Not when she was surrounded by a carnival of sightseers. But she had come too far to turn back. Constance craned her head towards the point creating the stir. A pale oval was pinned against the top of the support.

It was Silence’s skin.

Constance flinched, and would have stumbled if Goodwill hadn’t caught her.

“Lean on me,” urged Goodwill. “I’ll get you out of here.”

“I just need a minute.” Constance was slick with sweat, her hair clumping. “I never expected to see that again. Silence took it off before she jumped. She left it at the side of the
bridge. The peers impounded it afterwards. When they
returned her possessions, it wasn’t among them. I asked for it, but they said it had been destroyed. State policy in the case of unnatural discontinuations.”

“So why is it here?” asked Goodwill.

One of the Silenced nearby answered. “It’s a message from Silence. To show she’s still here.” She raised her voice. “
Silence is with us!
”

“
With us
,” chanted the crowd.

“
Silence is watching over us
,” said the woman.

“
Watching over us
,” they repeated.

“
Silence will show us what to do.
”

“
Show us what to do.
”

“Speak to us. Speak on behalf of Silence,” the woman urged Constance.

“I’ve nothing to say.”

“Speak,” said the woman.