About Sisterland (5 page)

It was a line from the obedience song all Sisterlanders learned at girlplace.

Don’t fight, do right!

Don’t wallow, follow!

Don’t delay, obey!

Constance made contact with the unit-allocators at once, and was told she’d be moved out within the week. Then she left Shaperhaus, and stood for a few moments in Eternity Square, wondering where to go. A packing session at home didn’t appeal. Knowing she had to move out of her twoser left an aftertaste in her mouth. The twoser connected her to Silence, who was present in every corner. Still, maybe it was for the best. There were days when she didn’t want to think about Silence.

It was a boon to be allowed to stay by the riverfront, she reminded herself. Constance found it therapeutic to stare into that unhurried mass of water, or pace the riverbank, alert for the swivel of fish. Beloved had urged Sisterlanders to model themselves on the river’s harmonious interaction with the urban environment. “The river doesn’t go through obstacles, it goes round them. It doesn’t crash through barriers, it smooths them away,” she had said, in a landmark speech learned off by heart by every young Sisterlander.

Once, stately herons were common among the reeds, but no herons had been spotted by the river for decades. It was rare to see any wild birds in Harmony. Sometimes, flocks were sighted in the sky, migrating across Sisterland, and people rushed outside to marvel at them. Nobody knew where they originated, or where they were destined. They never seemed inclined to land. Some sisters kept caged birds, but they didn’t last long – and they never sang.

Constance stuck her hands in her pockets, resentful at being confronted by two disagreeable prospects at once: moving and mating. She wished she had asked Silence more about mating. Like whether it would make her feel physically sick. That question wasn’t included in the Mating Board’s frequently-asked list. The authorities seemed not to realise that Constance had no-one to discuss this with. Maybe they didn’t care.

With time on her hands before going to matingplace that night, she decided to pay a visit to her source. She had mated with a man – Constance was the result – and must have some guidance to offer.

Constance found Devotion 2723 perched on a ladder, attending to her window boxes. They were planted with heathers in muted tones of lavender and coral – she never varied what she grew, and was scrupulous about keeping the soil acidic and taking regular pH readings. Once, Devotion had made a brush from her heather, sweeping out the twoser with it. When Constance had asked why, she had said she had taken an N and a nostalgic memory had been restored to her: her own source sweeping with a heather brush. “Sometimes we don’t know why we do things, but we feel compelled to do them anyway,” Devotion had said.

Constance remembered those words as she watched Devotion three floors above. She wore a tool-belt round her front, its pockets full of gardening equipment. Constance noticed the innate grace with which her source worked – fingers floating through the air, the way underwater plants waved through the river.

“Shouldn’t someone hold that ladder?” Constance called out.

Devotion peered down. “Constance! What a pleasant surprise. I’ve wedged a couple of rocks against the legs – I couldn’t wait for Goodwill to come home.”

Constance held the ends of the ladder anyway, while Devotion descended.

“Making time for Togethertime, ladybird?” There was a hint of reproof – Constance’s visits were sporadic.

Constance ignored it. In greeting, she raised both hands, palms outwards, and Devotion responded by pressing hers against her daughter’s.

“Shall I help you put away the ladder?”

“Leave it for now, I’ve more to do later. Come inside for some of my setting-sun wine.”

Devotion dropped the weeds in her pocket into a mulch bin, and led the way upstairs. Once indoors, both women removed their skins, and siphoned off the moisture on their clothes with a vac-pump. Devotion looked askance at the careless way Constance set aside her skin.

“Don’t leave your skin on the window-seat, ladybird. You might sit on it. I’ll find a spare container.” She left the room.

Constance picked up her skin which was made from plant extracts. She knew she was lucky to have it, rather than one of the cheaper, non-organic versions where the weave was visible. But sometimes it felt like a burden because it would take her years to work off the debt.

Devotion returned with a shell-holder lined in silk, and Constance placed her skin inside it.

“I wish I had your curls, Devotion.”

“I wish I had your cheekbones.”

“You always say that.” Constance smiled. “Your source had curls, didn’t she?”

“You know she did. You used to call her the Curly Lady when you were small.”

“So I suppose my bony face –”

“More than compensates for any lack of curls.”

“Must be down to my father.”

Devotion poured honeyed wine into two liqueur glasses. “You know we don’t have fathers. Only the source matters.”

“Half of me comes from him.”

“Just the biological matter.”

“Do I look like him?”

“I never saw his entire face. I was only with him five times, over the course of a month. I babyfused, and there was no need to be with him again.”

Constance digested this. “Was it horrible?”

“How could anything leading to you be horrible?”

“You were lucky to babyfuse in your first month. That’s rare – and becoming more unusual by the year. Speaking of which, I’ve been –”

“Never mind all that, ladybird.” Devotion pushed a glass into Constance’s hand, and clinked another against it. “To universal sisterhood!”

“Universal sisterhood,” agreed Constance. She finished the wine in one swallow, ready to persist with her questions. Devotion always changed the subject when mating was mentioned.

“Steady on, ladybird.”

“These glasses are the size of egg-cups.”

“My wine’s potent.”

“I need it. It’s been a weird day already, and it’s still got a long, long way to go.”

“A top-up, and that’s your lot. I don’t have any food to offset it, apart from cosmos bites, and I know you don’t like them. Quite right, too. Zero fat or not, I don’t approve. But Goodwill has a weakness for them.” She glooped another dollop into Constance’s glass.

Devotion was a thought-hatcher, a responsible job but restful, in its way. Unruffled sisters were suited to it. Hatchers were required to bring batches of approved thoughts to fruition. But it was thought-crafters who devised the thoughts, and theirs was the more gruelling task. Devotion’s other, Goodwill 824, was a thought-crafter.

Goodwill wasn’t Constance’s favourite person: she always gave the impression of wanting more from Constance than she was prepared to give. Constance’s behaviour towards Goodwill was sometimes studded with instances of low-level antipathy, because Devotion and Goodwill’s affection for each another made her feel as if they were a self-contained unit. Meanwhile, she was an outsider with her nose pressed to the window of their life. The companionship she had experienced with Silence, with all its mutual regard, couldn’t compare to the warmth of the bond between Devotion and Goodwill.

However, Constance accepted Goodwill was a relative, of sorts, in a world where they were not commonplace. A woman became a source only once, unless her child was a boy-man – in which case she was permitted to try again. No woman could keep her son. Sons couldn’t be held, even for an instant, before being taken away, although some sources did manage to see their faces.

“Would you have liked another child?” Constance asked.

“Nobody has sisters unless they’re a twin. But we’re all sisters in Sisterland.”

Constance noticed how Devotion presumed she meant another girl-baby, because who would want a boy?

Constance stood and prowled about. “How much did it hurt?”

“What?”

“Mating.”

“It was unpleasant rather than painful. But I knew Goodwill was waiting here at home for me, and she’d understand exactly what I’d gone through. She’d done it already, without managing to babyfuse – a sacrifice in vain. Poor Goodwill. But I ended up with you for my trouble. So it was worth it all.”

“Was it really a lot of trouble, Devotion? Would you have preferred not to mate? Or weren’t you a little curious, maybe, about what it would be like?”

“All these questions! It’s so long ago, I can hardly remember. I do know I was relieved at achieving babyfusion so quickly. Now, let’s have no more about mating. It’s a distasteful subject, and you won’t have to bother with it for a few years yet.”

“Well, as a matter of fact –”

But Devotion wasn’t listening. “Did I tell you we have a new Hatcher Mother? The previous one retired. She was worn out, bless her heart.”

Constance picked up her glass, twirling the fragile stem between her fingers.

“You look as if the weight of the world is resting on your shoulders, ladybird.”

Constance shook herself. “Just work problems.”

“How’s life on this top-secret course at Shaperhaus?”

“Top-secret. How’s hatching?”

“I’ve been hatching some thoughts about civic duty for girlplace. I finished up yesterday – I’m quite pleased with the results. I concentrated on making them elevating but not priggish. It’s a balancing act.”

“Are they being transferred to the students now?”

“I expect so. Not my responsibility any more. I must say, I’m a little weary. Still, I have today and tomorrow off to look after my herbs and heathers, and play music. That should reboot me. Then it’s back to the hatchery.”

“For more civic duty thoughts?”

“I could be assigned to anything. Now, never mind me, you look peaky. Stay and eat with us? I’d like to make sure you have a nourishing meal. I know you mostly go to eat-easies.”

“Eat-easy food is just as nutritious as a dine-all’s. After all, the menus in both are monitored.”

“Quite right, too. But it’s always spicy dishes in eat-easies. Too much spice can’t be healthy. Come on, Constance, I’m not asking for the moon. Just lunch with my daughter.”

“All right. There’s something I must do later, though. I’m under instructions to –”

Devotion was at the contact console, however, pressing the icon which connected her twoser to the dine-all in the complex. “This is Yellow B. We’ll be three for lunch instead of two. My daughter’s joining us. What’s on the menu? Delicious. See you at the usual time.” She turned back to Constance. “They have twiced-up pie – that was always your favourite as a little girl. Goodwill should be back from work soon. You don’t mind waiting?”

Constance made a non-committal gesture.

“She’s always asking for news of you.”

“I do have some news, as it happens. I’ve been fast-tracked for babyfusion.”

“Well, that certainly explains all the questions. But I must admit, I’m surprised.” Devotion pushed her hair back from her face. “Why would they do such a thing? And what about your top-secret course? You’re still in the middle of it.”

“I’m off the course. Temporarily, anyway. Sisterland’s decided my mission is to babyfuse. Or try to.”

“How very curious. Still, I’m sure your mother has her reasons.” Devotion brightened. “It’s news that’ll please Goodwill. She likes babies. Of course, there are no guarantees.”

“How about you? Are you pleased?”

“You’re a little young, but you may as well get it over with. Your mother wouldn’t have licensed you if you weren’t ready for the responsibility. Maybe it’s just what you need.”

A sour taste gushed up to coat Constance’s tongue. “Maybe the mothers only care about what Sisterland needs.”

Devotion frowned. When she spoke again, her tone was brisk. “I wonder where Goodwill can have got to? She’s too committed to that job for her own good.”

“But commitment to our work is Sisterland dogma.”

“Stop it, ladybird.”

Constance sighed, and offered an olive branch. “She’s lucky to have you, Devotion. You take wonderful care of her.”

“We’re lucky to have one another. Lately, you seem to make a point of visiting when she isn’t here. Don’t think she hasn’t noticed.”

“I like to talk to you alone sometimes. Goodwill never lets anyone else get a word in edgeways.”

“That’s not fair.”

Constance fidgeted with the crescent-moon charm on a chain round her neck. It was Silence’s – she had been wearing it when she discontinued. A peer returned it to Constance afterwards. There had been an intensity to Silence which Constance valued. She should remember how people were drawn to complementary traits in one another, and accept that Goodwill possessed qualities which appealed to Devotion – even if they bypassed Constance.

Unexpectedly, a question bubbled up in her mind. Had she loved Silence? Honesty forced her to admit the truth. Not the way Devotion and Goodwill loved one another. The love Constance felt for Silence had been the moe a student felt for a teacher who took pains with her. She had been flattered when Silence had indicated a desire to other with her. There had been respect. And affection. But what had been between them didn’t match what Devotion and Goodwill felt for one another. They were two halves of a whole.