About Sisterland (29 page)

“What’ll I do with the pages, Modesty?”

“Put them back where you found them.”

Constance dropped the sheets of paper by the window.

“Did you find them like that? Or were they folded up?”

Constance picked up the papers, doubled them in half, and let them fall again.

“Too conspicuous,” said Modesty. “Kick them out of sight. Over there. By those stupid scatter cushions. Glad to see them earn their keep at last. Now, I’m under instructions to fetch the mother back to the Sistercentral: the Nine needs her. She was sent a voice message on her comtel, but she always forgets to check it – I used to do it for her. You’ll have to remember, in future.”

“But she’s only just left the Sistercentral. She’s exhausted.”

Modesty shrugged. “I’m to brief her en route.”

“Is she needed right now?”

“Of course right now. Why? Has she something better to do than answer a Nine summons?”

“She’s trying to sleep, that’s all I meant. She worked all night on a mindmap subject. Modesty, why would the mother sleep in the office? Why wouldn’t she go home?”

“She doesn’t like going home.”

“Why not?”

Modesty’s face reflected her usual struggle between discretion and a desire to gossip. “Maybe she’s afraid of its associations. Something unfortunate happened to the mother’s other. She wound up with facial burns – utterly disfigured, the damage ate down to the bone. A chemical in her skin caused the accident.”

“I thought she lost her other. She always mentions her in the past tense.”

“Lost, in real terms. Her other is no longer a companion.”

“Don’t they share a home any longer?”

“Her other’s in mindedplace. And the mother can’t face her.”

“Because of the scarring?”

“Because of the guilt. She bought her the skin, as a gift. It was made under a new procedure, not fully compliant with safety standards.”

“That’s hardly the mother’s fault. She gave it to her in good faith.”

“True. But the Nine persuaded her the story had to be suppressed in case it caused panic. Sisterlanders might throw away their skins, and that would lead to . . . complications.”

Constance looked at her skin, in a box sitting on her desk. If it caught fire, it would stick to her face. She could never remove it in time to save herself.

“So does she see her other at all now?”

“She visits her now and again, but her other screams at the sight of her. At least the mother didn’t choose a new other. That was loyal of her.”

“But it would have been impossible. Sisters are only allowed one other in their lifetimes.”

“What a pearl you are – even now. Don’t believe everything you’ve been taught.” Modesty gave a tiny nod towards the scatter cushions, and the Outsidelander’s account.

Constance went to fetch the Shaper Mother.

She was instantly alert, rising and asking for water, before going through to the outer office.

“I hear you’re on the Honour
 
19 team, Modesty.”

“I do have that privilege.”

“Good. I told Innocence you’re a natural-born organiser.” Turning to Constance, the Shaper Mother said, “The Nine’s plans to commemorate Honour have been upgraded. A public holiday is to be announced. The date hasn’t been fixed yet, but we’re working towards this time next month. Right, Modesty?”

There was only one annual holiday a year – Sisterday, celebrated on August 24
th
– so the addition of a second holiday was momentous.

“Yes, there’s going to be a yearly event, called Memoryday,” said Modesty. “June 29
th
is the date chosen.”

“Memoryday – won’t it be splendid!” said the mother. “This year, Honour
 
will be the focus, but we’ll extend it to cover all our memory-keepers. They’ve been pivotal in advancing the Sisterland ethos. How do you like that idea, Constance?”

“Honour
 
deserves to have her contribution recognised, mother.”

“Indeed, but it’s not only about her. The individual, no matter how outstanding, is not what matters. It’s the group. After all, memories are too important to be left to individuals – that’s why central control had to be taken of them. So, Memoryday will celebrate Sisterland, and Sisterland will celebrate Memoryday. We need reminding of everything achieved, and everything yet to be achieved.”

Constance’s forehead wrinkled. “Forgive me, mother, but we’re taught that Sisterland is already ideal. So what does the Nine believe is yet to be achieved?”

“What you were taught was correct at the time you were taught it. But perfection, it turns out, can be honed still further. Something of enormous significance is now under way. Something that takes women to a new level as life-givers.”

This development sounded ominous to Constance, and a sidelong glance told her that Modesty’s eyes were also boggling.

“Impatient.” The Shaper Mother straightened her shawl, chuckling. “All will be revealed soon. When the Nine judges the time is right.”

“Mother, what’s that by the cushions?” asked Modesty.

“I don’t see anything.”

Constance approached the cushions. “Some papers.” She bent and picked up the pages. Without opening them out, she handed them to the mother.

The mother stuffed them into her pocket, and looked closely at Constance. Constance fought the mindmapping.

“You’re putting on weight, child. Don’t forget you’re entitled to new clothes – Sisterland provides everything free to waiting sources.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Our sources are dear to us.”

“Yes, mother.”

“But Sisterland is dearer still.”

Chapter 24

At home time, emerging into Eternity Square, Constance decided to go for a walk. She followed a pavement constructed from hexagonal slabs of mica, on which the outlines of musical instruments were imprinted. This would lead her to Courtesy Avenue, where she could pick up some source clothes – the Shaper Mother was right, everything she owned was now too tight. Somewhere along the way, however, her feet had different ideas, and she found herself outside the Tower. If only she could find out if Harper was all right. If only she could let him know about their baby.

Just then, Unity emerged. Even at a distance, Constance knew her by her stiff-bodied walk: as though her head was balanced insecurely on her neck, and might tumble off unless she proceeded with caution.

She set out after her. “Unity? I attended the Tower recently. Maybe you remember me?”

“Oh, I remember you, all right. We lost a top-grade meet because of you.”

Dread prickled along Constance’s scalp. “What do you mean? What happened to him?”

“He had to be taken off the job. Refused to mate with anyone after you.”

Constance felt a thrill of pride at Harper’s defiance, swamped at once by fear for the consequences. “What did they do to him?”

“Food deprivation, and when that didn’t work, sleep deprivation.”

“And then?”

Unity turned a suspicious glance on Constance. “You seem more worried about the meet than the havoc he created.”

“Please tell me. I feel responsible.”

Unity was walking at a cracking pace, and a stitch developed in Constance’s side. In lockstep, they skirted round a wheeler belonging to a worker from the city’s ambience division. The worker was twiddling the dials on a box set into a wall, and birdsong began to carol out.

“How do you like our new policy?” she called to them. “Sisters have been missing the sound of birds. Not their droppings, mind you. This is the best of both worlds.”

A dawn chorus orbited around them.

“Perhaps you should know what you provoked,” said Unity. “The Mating Mother was worried the meet’s behaviour would be contagious. Imagine if other meets started refusing to take part in Himtime, too. She had to nip it in the bud. When food and sleep deprivation didn’t work, she sent for him, and offered to improve his living conditions. His attitude showed the kind of throwback defiance we thought was bred out of men. He said slavery was slavery, no matter how the cage was prettied up, and demanded to be sent home. Can you believe it?”

Fear for Harper hollowed out Constance. When she tried to speak, she found her throat had seized up. Licking her lips, she tried again. What emerged was a croak. “Wouldn’t that have solved the Mating Mother’s problem?”

“Solved the problem? Created a nest of them, more like. Every meet in the Tower would’ve spun the same line. Besides, Sisterland can’t reward disobedience. What kind of precedent would that set? No, The Mating Mother did the only thing possible. She couldn’t cover up his disobedience. She went to the licensing authorities and admitted she had a meet she couldn’t control. They took over the running of the Tower, and all the unpleasantness died down. Except the Mating Mother’s been downgraded to greeter. Which was my job. So I’ve been downgraded to mead-server. And all because of a rebellious meet.”

“Where’s Harper now?”

“He was taken away.”

Constance’s flesh chilled. “Shipped off to an outer belt?”

“Should’ve been, for the trouble he caused. But I hear he’s still in Harmony. There’s a shortage of young men to do the grunt work in eat-easies. So he was sent to one. And that’s where he’ll stay, while he’s able to work. Guess he must be living in Hutchtown.”

Male labour lived in that zone, to the north-east of the city. It would be like hunting for a leaf on the floor of Harper’s forest.

“Unity, could you find out which easy he’s in?”

“What a strange question! Why in the name of Beloved would you want to know where he is?”

“I can’t explain. But it’s important. Can you find out?”

“You’re as perverted as the mother said!”

“Please, Unity. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Leave me alone! This meet cost me my job. Don’t you realise the trouble I’d be in, just for talking to you about him?”

“I’d pay you for information. Nobody has enough els.”

“Get away from me, or I’ll tell the Mating Board you’re looking for him.”

“Name a price – anything you like. Anything at all.” Unity did not speak, but Constance could tell she had her attention. “It must be hard work in matingplace. Creating all that fantasy, but never sharing in it. I saw how the Mating Mother treated you – you were nothing but a pair of hands to her. And now she’s pinched your job.”

“She was a tyrant!” Unity burst out. “And being demoted has made her worse. She still acts as if she’s in charge. I never wanted to work in matingplace. They pump us full of hot air about it being a patriotic job, but it’s like being a servant. Waiting hand and foot on pampered women with a permit to babyfuse. I never get offered one of those licences. The Mating Mother kept promising to propose me for retraining if I stuck with the job, but every time I reminded her she said, ‘Be patient’. She was stringing me along. And after mismanaging the Tower, she has no pull to recommend anyone now.”

“So get even with her, and make some els for yourself into the bargain,” said Constance.

“I don’t want els, I want a chance. Can you vouch for me? You seem to have friends in high places.”

“I could try. What is it you want me to do?”

“Put in a good word. Get me on a training programme. Anything. I don’t care what – I just want out of matingplace.”

Constance was in no position to recommend anyone. But Unity was unaware of that. She considered making the promise anyway, but couldn’t deceive her.

“Unity, I don’t have any influence. I’ve been transferred to the Shaper Mother’s office on a temporary basis, though. I could mention you to her as somebody with potential. I can’t do any more than that, I wish I could.”

Unity stuck her hands in her pockets. “Better than nothing, I suppose. More than the Mating Mother ever did. All right, here’s what I heard. He’s in an easy in Octagon, near the Hope Bridge. Which one, I don’t know. You’ll have to do the legwork.”

“The Hope Bridge. Odd how all roads lead there. Is there any chance they’ll ever let him go home now? After he’s done his penance?”

“No chance. He should be thankful he’s not in a worse place. There was talk of Grey Disjoint for him. Conditions there would soon quench his fire.”

“There’s something else I need to ask you, Unity.”

“Make it quick.”

“Do you remember Benevolence? She was taken from the Tower to Safe Space?”

“What is it with you and defectives? She went on the blink – the Mating Mother had her licence revoked.”

“That was unfair. She was a bit upset, granted, but since when is that a crime?”

“A bit? She’s having aversion therapy.”

“Aversion therapy to what?”

“Babies.”

“How extreme! She just wanted to be a source.”

“She needs aversion therapy. Otherwise she’ll self-destruct, and that’s a waste of Sisterland’s investment in her. A thought-cruncher, right? Takes years to train up one of them. Aversion therapy’s for her own good. Don’t look so sorry for her. I know she wanted to be a source. But wanting’s not enough. You have to be suitable, as well. You won’t forget your promise, will you, Constance? I have to get out of the Tower.”