About Sisterland (26 page)

She followed the attendant.

Instead of being brought to the conference room with its line-up of goddesses, Constance was led down a back staircase, and along an underground passageway towards the rear of Sistercentral. Artificially lit, it appeared to be composed of endless corners, some of them doubling back on themselves. They passed no-one.

Apprehension built inside Constance. “Where are we going?”

“Nearly there.”

“I thought I was being taken to the Nine.”

The attendant didn’t answer.

Constance’s mind raced. Something out of the ordinary was happening. Elsewhere, Sistercentral was an anthill of industry, but this maze of corridors was deserted and dim, windows reduced to horizontal slits at the top of the walls. Another right-angle turn, and a mesh screen blocked their progress. A scrutineer emerged from behind it.

“This is a restricted access area. Are you approved to pass?”

For answer, the attendant held up her wrist, sig side out, and the scrutineer scanned it against a hand-held screen.

Constance’s trepidation turned to a drumbeat of fear. Perhaps the Memory Unmapping Manufactory was right here, in Sistercentral. Her breathing became shallow, perspiration spotted her hairline.

The scrutineer looked Constance over. “Something wrong, sister?”

Constance was convinced her air supply had been stoppered. She yanked at her skin, dropping it. Legs buckling, she felt herself being sucked into a long tunnel.

The scrutineer pushed Constance’s head between her knees. “Breathe. Keep breathing.”

Something acrid was waved under her nostrils, and consciousness returned with a start.

“Eau de nitar. Works every time.” The scrutineer replaced the seal on a mustard-yellow tube, and slid it back in her pocket.

“Do you feel well enough to continue?” The Sistercentral attendant bent to pick up her skin.

Constance knew she ought to snatch at any excuse to go back upstairs. But she was numb – no resistance was left in her. She nodded and allowed herself to be taken down corridors which grew narrower, sloping further underground. Dully, she berated herself for a fool. She should never have shown up at Sistercentral to accept whatever sentence the Nine decreed. She ought to have packed up and fled. But instead of making a flight plan, she had indulged in grandstanding at the Hope Bridge.

The attendant stopped outside a brushed metal door, and rang a buzzer. The door wheezed and separated.

“Go through – you’re expected.”

Constance fastened her eyes on the open door. Behind another door on a windowless corridor, she had met Harper. They had made a baby. If only she could save it. But she couldn’t save herself let alone their child. Why hadn’t she tried? Why was she handing herself over like this?

“You should go in,” said the attendant.

Constance knew she was beaten. She stepped through the door.

Innocence was inside. Her headdress lay on the table beside her, the veil puddling beside it, her plaits coming apart. Her features were blurry with tiredness. Yet through it all, her youthfulness glittered: a gloss that conveyed beauty but nothing of charm besides.

Barely glancing at Constance, she said, “Constance 500, the Nine has decided not to send you to MUM. Sisterland has something else in mind for you. For your sake, I hope you deliver what’s required. The Shaper Mother insists you will. We’ll see. You’ll be given no further chances. Meanwhile, the Shaper Mother has accepted responsibility on your behalf. And extremely fortunate you are, too. You may leave.”

At the reprieve, Constance sagged against the wall. Something flashing on-screen snagged Innocence’s attention, and she paused to read it, letting out an exclamation of dismay. When she looked up, she frowned to see Constance still waiting.

“Yes?”

Constance tried to speak, and found her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth. “Where shall I go?” she croaked.

“Back to Shaperhaus, of course.”

“On the keeper programme?”

“Don’t be naive. You’re unreliable. I told you, the Sisterland has something else in mind for you. The Shaper Mother will explain.”

Innocence turned back to the screen. Constance caught sight of a map. She tried to read the name. OUTSIDE was all she could decipher.

The attendant was still in the corridor, and guided Constance back through the maze to the foyer.

Relief coursed through Constance as she arrived at the front door and passed under the sign chiselled into stone.

SISTERLAND

PRIZES

OBEDIENCE

“Hey! Come back!” called the attendant.

Constance froze.

“Don’t forget your skin.” She held it out, and Constance attached it. “Lucky it didn’t crack,” said her guide.

Outside, winded by the aftershock, Constance sat on the bottom of the granite steps leading to the entrance. While she rested, she noticed an unusual number of peers milling about in the grounds, flamingo bright in their leathers.

A familiar figure approached along the avenue. When she was close enough to hear, Constance called out, “Hello there! What are you doing here?”

“Don’t you dare to speak to me, Constance. You landed me in it, disappearing off the Buzz like that. I doubled back at the next stop, but couldn’t find you. And then the peers showed up and scanned my sig. They refused to believe I wasn’t one of the Silenced.”

“Sorry, Modesty, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Modesty began to climb the steps, intending to sweep past, but Constance’s hand on her arm detained her. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. What are you doing here? Is it because of me?”

“It’s not all about you, you know. There are developments. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Modesty, I’m truly sorry for leaving you high and dry on the Buzz. I’ll do a report for the Shaper Mother taking all the blame.”

“The Shaper Mother isn’t too concerned about you right now. Events have overtaken you.”

“What events?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Modesty’s dark eyes had a secretive glint. “Anyhow, I can’t stand about letting my tongue do all the work. I’ve another carrier interchange on my sig. It’s from the mother – I’m to deliver it personally to the Nine. It’s too sensitive to be sent over the comtel.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is.” Modesty adjusted her ponytail, preening.

“Except I suppose if it’s a carrier interchange, you don’t actually know what it’s about.”

“I know who it concerns, though. And that’s enough for starters.”

“Modesty, what’s happening? I’ve just been inside, and there’s something odd in the air. And the grounds are crawling with peers. Won’t you tell me? By the way, they let me off.”

“Off what?”

“Unmapping. I’ve been given a reprieve.”

“Oh, good. Sorry, I should have asked.”

How quickly people forget your problems, thought Constance. She scrutinised Modesty. The Shaper Mother’s assistant was bursting with knowledge. “Come on, Modesty, what’s going on? You know everything. Shaperhaus would fall apart without you. I always thought you were never given enough credit.”

Susceptible to flattery, and a shade remorseful that she hadn’t inquired about Constance’s unmapping, Modesty wrestled with herself. But the information was too confidential. “Can’t say.”

Constance wasn’t ready to give up. If she dangled some information as bait, she might pick up a titbit in return. “It was weird inside Sistercentral just now, Modesty. I was brought to a basement, a restricted area. Innocence couldn’t take her eyes off a map. And it was nothing like any map of Sisterland I’ve ever seen.”

Modesty was galvanised. “I know what she was looking at.”

“What?”

She shook her head.

“Whatever’s happening, it kept her up all night,” said Constance. “She was wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday.”

“The mother was up all night, too.”

“I saw writing on the map. Just one word. OUTSIDE.”

“You saw that?”

Constance nodded.

“Do you know what it means?”

“No.”

Modesty whispered, “OK, I’ll tell you what’s going on, but not here. Not with wall-to-wall scrutineers and peers. You’re never going to believe this, Constance. I can hardly believe it myself.”

Modesty wheeled about, and Constance followed her halfway along the avenue, as far as the woman-on-a-tightrope statue. Modesty checked there was nobody nearby. Even so, she shielded her mouth with one hand.

“An intruder’s been captured. From Outsideland. Innocence must have been looking at a map of Outsideland.”

“Outsideland? What do you mean Outsideland? Is that in one of the outer belts?”

“Shush, not so loud. No, it’s beyond Sisterland.”

“Beyond?” said Constance. “What beyond? There’s nothing outside Sisterland, except sea and empty desert.”

“That’s what I used to believe, too. But there are other countries beyond Sisterland. With people living in them.”

“More than one? Many Outsidelands?”

“I don’t know. Keep your voice down. Look, I know it’s a lot to take in. I didn’t know they existed either. But some people knew. Like the Shaper Mother – she wasn’t surprised. She explained it to me. She says Outsideland is full of perils, and our way of life is threatened by it. The Nine doesn’t want sisters knowing in case fear takes hold.”

“How does anyone know it’s dangerous if no-one’s been there? They haven’t, have they?”

“Don’t know. Who’d want to go, anyway? They might never get back to Sisterland.”

“But, Modesty, how do we know it’s dangerous?”

“You don’t have to touch hot metal to know it burns. Outsideland is full of risks because there’s no universal sisterhood there.”

Constance assessed this unexpected information. There was a place beyond Sisterland where the Nine held no sway: it meant the world had more possibilities than she was taught to believe.

“Why has the Shaper Mother told you this, Modesty?”

“Because she has to trust someone to report to the Nine for her – this information can’t go over the comtel. Unauthorised eyes might see it. She’s been mindmapping the intruder. Outsideland is where men live who survived World War III.”

“But they all live here.”

“Not all of them. That’s only what we’ve been told. Some of them formed their own societies. Men from before.”

“Outside the Nine’s control.”

“Exactly.”

“So the interchange you’re carrying is what the mother’s learned from her.”

This was Modesty’s trump card. “Not her.
Him!
”

“A man? The intruder’s a man from Outsideland?”

Round-eyed, Modesty nodded. “He calls himself an explorer, whatever that means. It could be another name for a spy, or a criminal, or a lunatic. He was held last night at Compliance Space – this morning, he’s being brought before the Nine. I can’t wait to see what he looks like. The only thing the mother said is that he’s different.” Modesty shuddered, but excitement gleamed in her eyes. “Between you and me, she’s quite shaken by him. Not her usual self at all.”

“I expect the Nine wants to question him.”

“You bet. Who sent him, why, and whether he’s alone.”

“Surely the mother’s mindmapping has given us those answers? Hasn’t she found everything we need to know?”

“Not everything. She finds it draining, because the information stored in his mind is so repellent. She can only work on him for short bursts.”

“Can’t someone help her?”

“She has a sister from the Nine’s staff assisting her. My security rating doesn’t stretch that far. Anyhow, better get inside and upload the interchange.”

Constance watched her retreating back, mesmerised by the notion of Outsideland. What kind of life would a child born there have? She stroked her belly. Looking down at her thickening waist, she realised she wasn’t wearing her jacket. Where had she left it? Not in Innocence’s bunker, hopefully. Wait, she had made a cushion of it in the foyer. She must have left it on the bench near the mosaic of the babyfused woman. She started back in through the double doors.

“Where are you going?” A scrutineer challenged her.

“I’ve permission.” Constance held up her comtel for scanning.

“You were scanned through already today.”

“I left my jacket behind. I see it over there, on the bench.”

“OK, but straight in and out.”

No sooner had Constance retrieved it, than a door opened off the foyer, and a phalanx of peers whisked through. In the middle of them was a man. He was unlike any man in Sisterland – even Harper. His clothing had no hood at the collar, leaving his head and face visible. The face was shadowed with stubble, while his body was flabby, unaccustomed to labour. But the real difference lay in his stance: he wasn’t cowed. When he met her glance, he looked back, instead of dropping his eyes as Sisterland men were trained to do.