Vo bowed his head. ‘Thank you for speaking to me. You are familiar with Di-Nuk?’
The Laot shook his head. ‘No, what I meant was that non-Laot are not welcome here. Find some other part of New London to inhabit.’
He turned his back, and Vo saw the scales on his neck and the strange ears. ‘Are you part human, too?’
The Laot paused, hissed once as he turned around. Vo-nam’s eyes widened as the creature puffed himself out, looming suddenly large. ‘I could kill you for that insult. No one speaks of the shame.’
Vo-nam sucked in a breath. ‘Insult? Shame? Please explain what you mean. I am half human and proud of it.’
The Laot stepped up to him and sniffed once or twice. ‘Maybe you are. Why would you own it? We are refuse, mistakes, fodder. Why would that make you proud?’
Again Vo-Nam struggled to make sense of the Laot. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said, feeling close to panic. The walls seemed too shrink around him and he could not quite block out that these beings were working, and working in terrible conditions.
The Laot beckoned him over to a small alcove out of the way of the Laot working. He lowered himself to the ground and gestured for Vo-Nam to sit beside him. Gingerly, Vo lowered himself to the ground, trying not to inhale the pungent odours that assaulted his nostrils. ‘Not sure where you are from, Mister Di-Nuk. One of the many places humans went to find their answers, I would guess.’
‘Answers? Do you mean the colonial offspring?’
The Laot gaped at him and then grunted. ‘Offspring?’ Then he laughed heartily. ‘You think you are offspring, natural born like? Hah. They created hybrids for a purpose. They wanted compatible tissue.’
Vo-nam stroked his chin, his ears twitching. ‘You make it sound that you were created in a laboratory. In my case, I had parents and grew up with tales of Earth.’
The Laot’s eyes widened, showing red and blue around the vertically slit irises. ‘Rubbish. Complete rubbish. All were laboratory grown and the tales you were told are rubbish too.’
‘No. Not possible.’ Deep down the seeds of doubt were planted. ‘Why are you living here on Earth?’
The Laot put a cup on a small burner and heated it. ‘Too many questions. Time for you to leave.’
Vo-nam stood, finding the being’s manner difficult to interpret. ‘Forgive me. I meant no offense.’
The Laot sniffed once and scratched the back of his neck. Vo caught sight of a brown bug slipping into his dirty shirt. ‘Suppose you don’t, I guess. Find your way to the next enclave and you’ll work it out. Fine educated specimen like yourself.’
Vo frowned. ‘How many of us part humans are there?’
Laot sucked in a breath. ‘How am I supposed to know that?’ Then he sunk back against the wall and appeared to sleep. Vo-nam waited for a moment and then crept away.
Throughout that day, he saw many different iterations of hybrids, felt his uniqueness slide away. There were humans, too, living in amongst the enclaves. They smelt and were thin and lifeless. Not what he imagined, not fat and happy like the off-world human tourists.
A small hunched over creature stopped to stare at him as he passed through a section of the enclaves. ‘What do you do here, stranger?’ it asked boldly.
Vo-nam halted, surprise making his tail twitch. So far none of the various hybrids had bothered to talk to him or note his passing. ‘I am lost.’
‘Haha. Heard that before. Not seen the likes of you around here. You must be one of them newer hybrids, born and raised off world from the smell of you.’
‘Yes, I am a Di-Nuk from Dianura. I do not understand. What do you mean newer hybrids?’ The creature had patches of grey fur on weepy pink skin. Vo found it quite repulsive and did his best to hide his distaste.
‘I am an old reject. They used to bring us here and change us. But there were too many mistakes, too many rejects. Then the activists protested and the humans had to do their experiments off world. Only successfully compatible tissue was allowed to reside here.’
Vo-nam shuddered. ‘Compatible tissue? I don’t believe you.’ Vo-nam did his best to cling to the remains of his shattered dream and failed. The world he wanted to belong to did not exist.
The creature shrugged and walked off. ‘Nutter!’he called back before scampering up a ladder leading to a balcony. Vo-nam kept walking. He saw none of the fat, happy humans living in the enclaves. As he saw the decay, the despair, the twisted shapes of well over a hundred hybrid species, he began to believe. As he traversed the enclaves, he heard the chatter, pulled the threads of truth together.
The humans had filled this place with a multitude of hybrids, alien cultures, and fused them until they no longer resembled their original species or cultures. Then the humans went off world to make new homes, leaving their refuse behind them. Now on the surface, it was only the tourist resorts, sucking the money from the gullible and presenting a façade for the rest of the galaxy—pristine fakery, depicting a nostalgic past that probably never existed. But here, down here, this was where the real world existed—where the work was done, where the rejected hybrids eked out a pitiful existence. Vo-nam spluttered when he let those thoughts take root. He tried the stifle the sobs, but could not. Like the stench of the place, the truth could not be ignored. Staggering on, he found another enclave and then another, coming around in a large circle.
In a market, he thought found the source of meat that Petey had been selling. This type of animal was unrecognisable but Vo had his suspicions. When he allowed them to gel, he ducked into a corner and vomited. He suspected the malformed creatures were bred and slaughtered for food. How could he tell what the original species were and how different from the sentient hybrids around him?
The enclaves and the enclosed space started to overwhelm Vo-Nam. He wondered if it was best to hand himself in, best to end this putrid escapade within the bowels of the homeworld. Then he recollected that he had not seen anyone in uniform, not one human official at all. He wanted out but that would mean tracking his own scent and back tracking. It took a long time to return through the various enclaves, even though he bounded on all fours, disregarding the social niceties by ducking and weaving around the workers and those lingering in the passageways without so much as an apology. Yet necessity drove him. Too much, too fast, it threatened to corrode his sanity. He thought back to the pre-flight education program depicting Nuk being shot in the corridors of Old London, supposedly overwhelmed by the subterranean surroundings. His experience put a new gloss on that story. If they experienced what he did, then they were rational and appalled. Not insane or psychotic at all.
By the time he made the door, he was mired in fatigue. There did not appear to be any sign of Li-Pen. Nor was there anyone official there, ready to catch visa jumpers like him. He squatted for a while, trying to clear his head so he could detect Li-Pen’s scent. At last he could smell her, he tracked her away from the door and then back again. The trails overlapped. Did that mean she had returned to the hotel? Was she there on the otherside waiting to let him out? He shouted by the exit. No one came to investigate. Li-pen was not there.
Vo stood there gazing at the door, wondering how he could leave again. If he tried the door would that gain him anything except maybe setting off an alarm? He thought he had to risk it, even if they arrested him. What did it matter he had no more a place here than he did in Dianur. Vo-nam found that realisation quite shattering. All their money gone, all their goodbyes said and now this—a dead end.
Then he heard footsteps and quickly slunk away to the shadows. It was Petey, rucksack on his shoulder, using his visa card to open the door. Vo called out. Petey’s head snapped around, his mouth agape. The door opened. Vo leaped forward, grabbed the visa card from Petey’s hand and pushed past him to bound up the stairs. More alarms sounded but he kept on going. He heard the other Di-Nuk shout at him, yet did not understand the words. Vo-nam was breathing hard as he exited. Quickly looking around him, he threw
the Di-Nuk’s card back down the stairs. Petey grovelled for it. Vo loped away on all fours, glad to be clear of the stench and the crowding. He ran, and ran, through the pastures, dodging sheep and then he lay down and stared at the shimmering atmospheric dome above. Rolling in the grass, he rubbed the dirt and grime from his pelt. Then as he sat there grooming himself with his claws, he let his thought run. He was safe. He was free. He did not belong anywhere. No, he argued with himself. He had a wife and they would rebuild their lives, earn more money. Perhaps they could adopt a child. Li so wanted children, but their hybrid bodies could not produce compatible ova and sperm. They were effectively sterile as a couple. But there was a glimmer of a future there. What choice did he have?
After dark, he made his way back the hotel. No one challenged him or even appeared to take note of him. The authorities had not come to arrest him. That was a relief. He allowed himself to relax as he rode the elevator to his floor. Once inside their room he saw signs that Li had been back. The credit cards were on the bed and a message light was flashing on the side table. He stumbled over to it dumbly, realising that something must have happened. She should have been here.
Vo. There is no way to say this gently so I’ll tell you straight. I am not coming back to Dianur with you. Earth has granted me citizenship and I want to stay. My uterus is useful here. I can breed babies for this company and they will pay me very well. And you know we could never.... I am sorry Earth is not what you thought it was. There are other places, better places. Don’t look for me. Go back home, find a Nuk, and settle down. Sorry I’ve taken all our money to set myself up here. Had no choice. Sorry.
Vo-nam crouched by the bed and replayed the message he could not quite believe. A healthy female could carry four to five foetuses at a time. Technically, she could produce many litters of humans if her womb was compatible. Vo tried not to think about how Li-Pen had got her visa, maybe not because she had more human DNA at all. Then he recalled how she had been absent from the observation deck when they arrived. How she knew things like the new immigration rules. Perhaps that room with the humans and the catering.
It was her usefulness and compatibility that was the issue. He knew he had more human heritage than her, but he was not useful to them. He didn’t matter. His humanness was a farce, created through lies and illusions. He was one of many colonial conquests, a residue of earlier policies, ones that Earth would like to forget about, like they had the hybrids in the enclaves.
The room’s buzzer sounded, then the door opened before he could give permission to enter. Armed men in uniforms barged in, swinging the door open with a bang. Vo-nam’s hackles raised and he growled, instinctively on alert. One of the men stepped forward, as the others kept their guns trained on him, a small card in his gloved hand. ‘Is this your visa card, Mr D’abela?’
Vo’s tail swung from side to side. ‘Yes. I must have dropped it.’ Li-pen had held his visa card. She had had it when they entered the enclaves. His gaze slid to the bed, where the other cards were. His was missing.
‘Yes, you did—in the enclaves—a place where you should not have been. Come with us now, Mr D’abela. I am afraid your visa has been revoked. Once your deportation has been processed you will be escorted to the next available ship.’
‘Deportation?’
‘Yes, you will be ineligible to return to Earth or any of its colonies. Do you understand what I am saying?’
Vo nodded. He understood too well. The final link was broken. Vo-nam swallowed once.
‘Yes. I understand. May I wash first. I am so dirty.’
‘No time for that. Come along now.’ The man placed cuffs on his hands and pulled him along. As they shuffled him out the door, he tried to resist. ‘But my wife has gone missing. Can you help me find her?’
‘Come along quietly sir. We will see about your wife later.’
***
Vo felt the sting of the needle in his arm as the relaxant poured in. For a moment, he thought he saw Li-Pen in the cubicle next to him but then the image faded. His last few days on Earth were torture. They had kept him locked up. No one would answer his inquiries about his wife. Vo had many hours to think about robot sheep. Although he reasoned that he was not like the Laot, an experiment gone wrong, he still felt the taint of being part human. It would take time to find out the truth and maybe he never would. There was too much layering in the bureaucracy, too much politics and hiding of history. More and more, he understood the Nuk attitude toward him and wished that he had never come to the homeworld. It was hard to find pride and superiority when your self worth had been expunged. On Dianur, he would finally understand his shame, his taint, his place.
Li-Pen had found a place on the homeworld but at what cost? She was useful, but would she be treated as a person, granted the same rights as others? That was no longer his concern. The divorce notification had reached him two days ago. It was over. What would he do when he returned home? He chuckled to himself as the meds loosened his self-control. Run on all fours and chase tasty hunin. Yes, he laughed, thinking about the taste of fresh killed meat. As the stasis unit hummed to life sucking away his consciousness, he wondered what robot sheep tasted like.
Author Note
The idea for this story come to me while travelling in the UK. The country side was so green and lush, so perfect. As I looked upon the sheep that seemed so clean I wondered if they were robots and that it was all a show. I also have English heritage and I felt a sense of entitlement when visiting. To me it was like coming home. Also around that time I read that scientists had been given permission to mix human and animal DNA and of course it’s a post colonial story.
Night of Masks and Spears
On Two Moon World, tribes gather for the making of men and women. While one moon hides its face and the other smiles, shedding its blue light on the land below, we gather at the great meeting house. It has been this way since we left the old world and spoke the one tongue. Now we are many tribes and fight among ourselves.
Why come in unity to live divided? Maybe the knowledge will pass to me when I fashion my spear and become a woman.
As I walked the path to the great meeting house, I listened to my grandmother recite the tales of old, of kin long dead, of those who rode in the white ships to bring us to this place. I nodded as she reiterated strictures on what a woman should and should not do. Usually, I found grandmother’s voice soothing, particularly when she lectured me. Until we reached the base of the ridge, where the Melu village hung in the mist, I had been lost in my thoughts, letting grandmother’s words fall around me. The shrill voices of the Melu women—their welcome words cutting through the air—set my heart beating. The men’s voices, deep, rhythmic and booming, maintained my heart’s new pace, unsettling me, making me sweat. The men thrust the sound of piercing spears and war chants into the women’s welcome song, mingling in the mist.
Grandmother stopped talking as the climb steepened, focussed on each shove of her foot into the black mud. Gnarled hands clung to the branch of a Kakini tree as she pulled herself up to the next level. While assisting grandmother onto a terrace, I spotted a blue speckled feather in the undergrowth and darted away to capture it. The wind was blowing through the leaves, wafting the smoke from cooking fires down upon us. I scampered after grandmother and showed her my feather when she paused for breath.
‘Another Kiku feather for your spear, Upai. What a mighty spear you’ll make. But be careful—too grand a spear and a warrior will choose you instead of you choosing him.’ Grandmother laughed, a wheeze between clenched teeth as she resumed her climb.
I smiled. My mother had bequeathed me another Kiku feather. Rare, beautiful gifts from a bird we did not kill or eat. Now I had two and my spear would be very special indeed.
As grandmother had to go first, with the chief, the rest of our tribe waited for us. She is the granddaughter of Lopai, the greatest of all Lelu chiefs. She was not a man, but she had his blood, and so did I, and we would
honour the old ways. I walked with grandmother ahead of the rest.
‘If your father were alive, Upai, his privilege would be to take you to your making. He would walk with pride ahead of the Lelu tribe.’ The sound of determined, heavy steps thumped behind us. I stepped back. Uncle Taku shoved branches and people out of his way as he came to stand with grandmother, his mask scowling over his left shoulder.
I shivered at the sight of his mask, its mouth fixed in an angry growl and eyes a menacing glower. Grandmother’s mouth turned down, and she turned to walk ahead without acknowledging him. As we walked with our tribe behind us, the men of the Melu village gathered in front of the village gates. Spears were shaken and challenges issued.
Our chief, Mukeni, answered their challenge. The Melu men began to dance with bodies hidden behind their long elongated masks, painted to fill their enemies with fear. I edged behind my grandmother, ashamed of myself for being such a child and allowing fear to take root in my belly. Every time we had a gathering, I had nightmares about the masks. I hated them, so much so that I did not know how I could marry a man who had made such a monstrosity. It was as if the masks reached out to me, pulled at my soul and sucked me dry. I cowered behind my grandmother to lessen the intensity of their presence. I pretended I wasn’t doing it, because I knew grandmother would slap me. Luckily, uncle’s presence made her so angry that she did not notice.
Uncle Taku, the man who could not take my father’s place as chief of the tribe. I did not know why it was so. No one spoke of it. My childhood questions had fallen on deaf ears.
When the formal ceremony was over, I was free to mingle with the other girls. As a group we eyed the boys who would become men, singling out the ones who were not blood relatives. One boy caught my eye. I knew him from my childhood. He lived with us once for a few months. Bene was his name, and he had the most stupid grin on his sun-darkened face. I found myself smiling back at him before my grandmother called me to her side.
Beneath the Floating City collection Page 5
