I leave, clutching the book to my pounding heart. I am so glad she asked nothing more. How could I tell her what happened? She would be angry if she thought I was lying, but maybe even angrier if she knew I wasn’t. What really happened this morning? I wonder. I put the book aside, my mind too full of unanswered questions for reading.
Lem Howell is harmless. What we were taught about him is a lie. I think about his wife dying in the technocaust. Not because she was bad. Only because of her knowledge. I multiply her story by thousands, by hundreds of thousands. The idea is unbearable, but not unbelievable.
Erica is telling the truth.
The Eye of Heaven Shines
“There. That completes the mercury lamp test. Now the spectrophotometer is calibrated, and we can begin the actual observation set.” The Master works to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but he’s not completely successful. After weeks of training, Marrella should know how to measure the ozone in the stratosphere and the UV radiation, but we have spent almost an hour just helping her prepare the equipment. I wish I was somewhere else. Her refusal to learn is pushing the Master to the very limits of his patience. I can’t believe she is as stupid as she’s pretending to be. I’ve understood everything he’s done so far perfectly.
As we move outside, Marrella scowls at the small disk in her hand, which I now know is called a Lewycka spectrophotometer. “There must be an easier way to do this,” she says.
“Oh, yes. Of course. Satellites could do readings from space and transmit their data back. Or we could make sondes measurements using weather balloons. Or we could fix robotic spectrophotometers to the rooftops of buildings.” His voice drips with sarcasm. “If we had unlimited funds and if we didn’t mind the whole world knowing. Marrella, by learning this you are becoming part of a living system of knowledge. Our intention is that the bio-indicators in this program will be able to monitor the ozone layer in spite of any political disruption. Now tell me again what you’re going to do.” We stand in the enclosed garden behind the house that shields us from prying eyes. I remember everything Erica told me about the Commission and wonder how dangerous it is to be doing this.
“Two readings, one aimed directly at the sun, the other at the zenith,” Marrella drones.
“Two sets of readings for each,” the Master corrects her. “Why?”
“Because you want to drive me crazy!” Marrella says.
I intervene as quickly as I can. “Two readings help to ensure accuracy.”
The Master smiles. “Very good, Blay. At least someone understands what we’re doing.” I spoke only to shield Marrella, but her look tells me she thinks I am trying to impress the Master. I quickly lower my eyes, concentrating on the palm-held computer, recording numbers as she makes the readings. When she’s finished, William smiles again. “That was much better. Those numbers are entirely in line with what I recorded earlier. Just make sure you follow the same procedure tomorrow. All right? I can’t stress how important this is.”
Marrella nods and I relax a little. Now that I know how the readings are done, I can ensure hers will be accurate. Maybe that will win her friendship.
Chief Warder November
The next morning, the Master enters the kitchen scowling. At first I think he’s been fighting with Marrella again. Then I see the warders behind him. “They have come for Blay,’ he says to Erica.
She must have decided to send me back after all.
But she cries “No!” and I know this is not her choice. “No,” she says more calmly. “We are happy with the child and find her useful. Why do you want her back?”
“Mistress, Chief Warder November wishes to speak with her. That is all.”
This is like a bad dream. “I will go with them,” I say. If I can keep them from becoming angry, I must.
Mistrust flickers across Erica’s face. She has told me enough to make me a danger to everyone she loves. Now she misunderstands my quick surrender. “I will come with you,” she says.
The taller warder steps forward, blocking Erica from me. “That is not necessary.”
The smaller one speaks calmly. “The child will be back soon, mistress. We do not wish to disrupt your day.” Erica bites her lip and nods, acknowledging defeat. Her eyes meet mine again just briefly, and I know she is begging me to say nothing. The look tears my heart.
William follows us to the door. “Please return the child to us soon,” he says. “We do find her useful.” For once, he’s not giving an order.
The warders walk on each side of me as if they think I might try to run away. As if I could. While we walk down the hill, I try to compose a plausible story of my work in the Master’s house. In the Rotunda, my palms begin to sweat. What if I never leave here again? I try to stay the tide of panic rising in me. Erica and the Master would come for me. Wouldn’t they? I am in Warder November’s office before I can answer my own question.
I have never been here. It would have been unthinkable before. The office is plain and bare. Warder November sits at a metal desk. The daylight behind her turns her cropped hair into a white halo. She smiles only with her mouth. “Ah, Lobelia September.” She motions to a metal chair. “We cannot offer you the comfort of the Master’s house, but, please, sit down.” I obey. “You are still a ward of the Commission, Lobelia, and we must ensure that you are taken care of. You are not mistreated at the Master’s house, are you?”
“Oh, no, Chief Warder November.” I try to make myself sound as stupid as possible.
“And suppose you tell me what your duties are.”
“I help the bio-indicator with her lessons and care for her.” The trick is to tell the truth without giving anything away and to lie as little as possible. Lies are the snares. The more you lie, the easier it is for them to catch you.
“I wonder why the bio-indicator needs help? This has never happened before.”
I nod. “The bio-indicator is not well, Chief Warder. She requires special attention.”
“She seemed healthy enough when she came here.”
I explain about Marrella’s scalp. It isn’t necessary to exaggerate. My description impresses her.
“I see,” she says when I finish. “And have you noticed problems with the power supply in the house?”
I almost smile with relief. I don’t have to lie about this. “Oh, yes. It’s unreliable.”
Warder November leans forward on her desk. “And suppose you tell me what you have learned?”
My heart jumps. “Learned?” I think fast. “Only the responses for the investiture.” This is a risk because, in fact, I know nothing about the investiture.
“And do they talk to you about the Commission?”
“Yes, of course. They are grateful for the support of the Commission.”
The disappointment in Warder November’s eyes is encouraging. She sighs. “Lobelia, I wonder if you could collect information for us?”
With enormous effort, I will my face to remain blank, my voice empty. “What do you mean?”
Her disappointment turns to annoyance. “This conversation is getting us nowhere. I thought you were an intelligent girl, but when I reviewed your records from the biblio-tech, I found you were reading the same books over and over. What is the meaning of that?”
She knows nothing of poetry. I can use this to my advantage. “I thought, if I carried a lastbook, the others would not bother me, and I would seem to be learning.”
“And can you read, child?” she asks me.
“Hardly at all,” I mumble. I lower my eyes, hiding my lie behind pretend shame.
“Well,” she says a little more kindly, “you can do little good, but it seems your capacity for harm is not great, either. You are content to return to the Master’s house?”
“Oh, yes,” I say, truthfully. “Then you may go.”
The warders do not escort me back. I have been deemed harmless. I make myself walk up the hill slowly to hide my joy in case they are watching. I bound to Erica in the kitchen to tell h
er what happened, but she clamps her hand firmly over my mouth. “Oh, Blay,” she says, “you clumsy child. You spilled flour all over yourself. Please go change.” Her eyes beg me not to argue as she removes her hand.
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to hide my surprise. Erica motions for me to change all my clothes.
When I return, she goes to the control panel and presses a key. “There,” she says. “You changed everything?” I nod. She scans my face with anxious eyes. “Did anyone touch your hair?”
“No. Why?”
“They might have planted a listening device on you. I will no longer pretend there are problems with the power. We have cloaking devices in these panels. The one in William’s study is always on. They make it seem as if there are problems with the power supply. In fact, they create a screen impossible to hear beyond. It’s our only means of privacy now.”
“It’s good I didn’t know,” I say. “That was one less lie to tell.” Then I tell her everything. When I finish, I say, “I’m sure they think I’m too stupid to be a spy. The poetry did it. Warder November noticed I was reading the same scripts over and over. She didn’t look back far enough to realize I’d read everything else first. But why did they come for me now?”
“Warder November must have asked advice from her superiors within the Commission. She can’t challenge us directly. The people would never tolerate it. I thought she would try to recruit you as a spy, but as soon as I saw your face, I could see you had nothing to hide. So you really are what you seem. Oh, Blay, I have need of someone like you. Tomorrow night you will come to the town with me. There are so many things you have to learn. But now we must pretend this is an ordinary day. It’s time for you to help Marrella with the noon observation set.” She restores the control panel and the conversation is over. I am pleased I’ve earned her trust, but what is she talking about? I leave the kitchen burning with questions I must not ask.
The spectrophotometer is a fussy little device, but I seem to have a talent for working with it and Marrella is content to accept my help. After lunch, we go to her room to prepare for the second test. The book she needs is still in my room. “I should get the book the Master asked you to read,” I say.
Her look withers the words in my throat. “Sit down. I have no intention of learning anything from books.” She spits out the last word as if it is hateful to her. Then she smiles. “There is a different way, something I learned in the divining parlors at home. I’ve never really tried it myself but I think it will work. And you will help me.” Using the control panel, she dims the windows and the room grows dark. “There,” she says. “I need these blue crystals, and I have the right earrings—lapis set in silver.” She sweeps around the room gathering objects. She dips the earrings into disinfectant and slides them into her ears.
The stones are a lovely blue. “They’re very pretty,” I tell her.
She laughs. “They’re more than pretty. The lapis will focus the appropriate energy. The silver will strengthen my faith in my higher self.” I wonder what she is talking about. This must be a way of learning that I have never been exposed to. “One more thing,” she says, picking up two scarves. “Put this over your shoulders.” She hands me a lovely scarf, blue, shot with silver thread. She settles a darker one around her own shoulders. “Now we will begin. I have been trying to open up a channel to communicate with the Ancients. This is called channeling. If I can contact these discarnate beings, they will provide me with the knowledge I need.”
I can hardly take this in. “Discarnate?” I ask.
“Dead,” she snaps, then she recovers herself. “Beings who have escaped the wheel of life. The cycle of incarnation. They can help me make the right decision tomorrow.”
This is what she intends to do instead of reading? “But, if these . . . discarnate beings come from ancient times, how can they help you with factual knowledge?”
“As usual, you fail to understand. The Ancients know everything. Cross your legs and place your hands on your knees, palms upward to let the energy flow outward.” I do as she instructs. “We will begin.” She guides me through a series of breathing exercises. “Now,” she says, “you must try to join your energy to mine while I ask for guidance.” And she begins the tuneless song I have heard from my room in the evenings. “Guide me, oh, ancient ones, oh, sisters of the earth . . .” Marrella drones on and on. I cannot tell how much time has passed when the lights come on again. It’s dark outside. I sit there blinking like someone dragged into the light from underground. For once, her smile seems sincere. “I thought you might be restless and distract me, but you did not. Erica called us for supper and you didn’t even hear.”
I must have fallen asleep. “Did the Ancients come to you?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Not that I’m aware of, but who can say? If I’ve succeeded, I will know just what to do tomorrow. I am going to wash for supper. I will not require you this evening,” she calls over her shoulder.
“But the book—” I begin.
She cuts me off. “If this works, it won’t be necessary.”
And she sweeps from the room. I think about what she said. If she has been successful, she will know what to do. But that’s the way I felt yesterday, and I did not ask for spirit guidance. I shake my head. It’s too confusing.
When I enter the kitchen, Erica and the Master suddenly fall silent as if they have been talking about me. “Can I carry anything to the table?” I ask, pretending not to notice.
“Certainly, here.” Erica loads me down with dishes. She follows with a tray of food. They seem to take it for granted I will join them at the table now.
“Did you have a good afternoon studying?” William asks.
While I fumble blankly for something to say, Marrella arrives. “Yes, certainly. It was exhausting and, if no one minds, I’d rather speak of other things.”
The satisfaction that lights the Master’s face makes me look down at my plate. Surely it is wrong to deceive him like this.
Bio-Diversity for Bio-Indicators
I return to my room later, still longing to know what Erica plans for me. I had hoped for some clue while we tidied the kitchen after supper, but she only chatted about ordinary things, I was so impatient, I would have enabled the cloaking device myself if I knew how. Finally, as I was leaving the kitchen, she threw me one small hint. “Tomorrow evening I’m going to Kildevil to visit the First Weaver, the most skilled craftswoman in the village. She is making the cloth for Marrella’s investiture robe. I would like you to come with me.” Her voice sounds quite ordinary, but her smile betrays her.
I smile back. “Just as you wish,” I say in the flattest tone I can.
I wonder what new mysteries tomorrow will bring. Bio-Diversity for Bio-Indicators is waiting. There is no sound from Marrella’s room. She seems content to put her faith in discarnate beings, but I cannot. I open the book and enter it. As I learned about plants two nights before, now I learn about animals. I learn that every crevasse and corner of this planet teems with life. Tiny creatures, even some as big as spiders, can be carried on the wind, sometimes for thousands of miles. Life that travels in this way is called aeolian plankton. I remember Lem Howell’s aeolian lyres and smile.
Then I learn about bio-diversity. Life is not aimlessly varied, but follows complex rules. Animals fill different roles within each community, and, if the usual animal is lacking, others will change over hundreds of generations to fill the empty place. This was recognized long ago when a man named Charles Darwin studied finches, small birds, on Pacific islands. Because there were few birds on the islands, the finches gradually took on roles played by other birds in other places. In hologram pictures I watch the finches of the Galapagos Islands, birds that should eat seeds, acting like woodpeckers and warblers and even stealing eggs like gulls do.
When I fall asleep, the diversity of life comes with me. I find myself riding the wind with aeolian plankton on my way to a newly formed volcanic island. Other life forms drift across the
waves. Not everything survives, but, gradually, as tide after tide of wind and water sweep the island, a new web of life establishes itself until the once-barren bed of black ash teems with living things. I wake with that familiar, unexplained happiness. I have no idea what today will bring but I am ready.
Marrella looks sleepy and annoyed when I wake her with green tea. “Oh, yes. The second test. Do you suppose I’ll have to drag some animal home?” I shake my head. It doesn’t seem likely. “Go down without me,” she says. “I want to ask the Ancients for guidance.” I am oddly touched by this. Her approach to knowledge is so strange, but I know she wants to succeed. If only I could persuade her to read the books or even listen to what I’ve learned. This wonderful knowledge fills me like a strange music and she will not even open her ears.
When Marrella joins us in the kitchen, her bio-indicator’s robes are left behind. She is dressed in clothing like my own, black leggings and a tunic. Her head is covered in the plain dark-blue scarf she wore yesterday. The Master can hardly contain his excitement while we eat. “William, please sit down,” Erica finally says. “You’re hovering.”
Powerful though he is, the Master obeys like a small boy but his barely controlled energy still fills the room.
Marrella pushes her plate away. “How is this test to be accomplished?”
“Quite simply. Take this.” William hands her a bound notebook. “Go for a walk. Record any animals you see—birds, mammals, insects, anything. Make notes about anything that interests you. When you return, tell me which you think is the most significant.”
“That is all?” Marrella frowns. “What if I don’t know the names of these animals?”
“Just write a description. That will do. As with the last test, what you choose will tell me a great deal about what you have learned.”
Marrella takes the notebook. “This book is paper? I use a pencil? These are very primitive implements. Where do I go?” Marrella’s voice rises anxiously. She has no idea how to begin.
The Secret Under My Skin Page 8
