Gemsigns

by Stephanie Saulter

  As if in response to his musings, he saw Bal at one of the doors. He was with Wenda and another woman, a Bel’Natur redhead whom Eli recognised from his earlier research. She held Gabriel by the hand, and Eli wondered if they were bringing him to the meeting. There were things he would not say in front of a child. But then Gaela crouched and kissed him, and he transferred his handhold to Wenda. Her face was red and puffy under the turquoise hair. Bal squeezed her shoulders and patted the boy’s head. As they departed the hall Eli had to blink away an illusion of reversal: the impression that it was the child who guarded and guided the woman.

  Bal and Gaela were making for seats near the front. Eli muttered to Rob, still deep in conversation with the policeman, and headed in their direction.

  On the way he spotted Donal on the far side of the room, next to a gem who looked to be about eight feet tall. He said, ‘Hi Don, good to see you,’ in a normal voice, prompted by some imp of mischief and curiosity to test both the young gem’s range and whether the thaw from the day before had held. Nearby gems shot him puzzled looks. Donal turned around immediately, and Eli raised a hand in greeting. Donal flashed him a startled smirk and waved back.

  Bal had apparently taken the exchange in. His grim expression lightened somewhat, but an aura of alert reserve remained around him and Gaela. ‘Hello, Dr Walker. I see we haven’t scared you away.’

  ‘It’d take a lot more than a few made-up stories on the streams,’ he said, and watched carefully. This time he was sure he sensed a slight increase in tension, as from a sentry hearing a noise in the night. He stuck out his hand. ‘Please, call me Eli. Dr Walker’s reserved for people I think I can impress.’

  It seemed to be the right touch, although the wariness remained. They shook hands and Bal introduced him to Gaela. ‘Aryel mentioned you,’ he told her. ‘As did Horace, if I remember right.’ He glanced around, looking for the green-haired gem. ‘Is he coming tonight?’

  She and Bal exchanged glances. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Horace isn’t that well today.’

  He had seemed in the peak of health yesterday. ‘Nothing’s happened to him?’

  Gaela smiled, a little stonily he thought. ‘No, not like that. He’ll probably come in on tablet.’

  ‘Good. Only,’ he shrugged, ‘it’s been a hell of a day, and I thought Wenda looked a bit upset.’ He gestured towards the door. ‘I noticed her just now with your son.’

  ‘She … knows one of the people who’s been hurt and it’s got to her a bit. She didn’t feel up to the meeting, and we didn’t want Gabe here for this one, so they’re going to go and watch a nice relaxing vid together.’ She threw him a musing look, and changed the subject. ‘It was good of you to come tonight, with everything that’s going on.’

  ‘I was really pleased to be asked. Hopefully I can help explain a few things, and I expect I’ll learn a lot.’

  ‘Will you really?’ That was from Bal, abrupt and edgy. ‘I mean, haven’t you already done all your studies and reports and whatever? Figured out what to do with us, for the powers that be?’

  ‘What ends up being done isn’t up to me,’ Eli said quietly. ‘And there’s no such thing as being finished in my line of work.’ He suddenly, urgently, wanted them to understand this. ‘A year has been very, very little time to do what I’ve been asked to do. It’s as complete as it can be, but there’s still a lot that I – we – don’t know.’ He gestured to the room around them. ‘There’s a lot we can’t know because communities like this have existed for such a short time. At the moment we’re trying to understand the present and predict the future based on not a lot of data.’

  He hesitated, worried that it was too soon to turn the conversation back. But people were starting to sit down all over the room, and he might not get another chance.

  ‘I realise this might be an intrusive request and I’ll understand if you say no,’ he began. ‘But I wonder … would you be willing to talk to me a bit about how you find family life? As people who didn’t grow up with parents, what’s come easily and what you find most challenging?’ He spread his hands. ‘You’re pioneers, you know. There are so few gem families that it’s difficult to know what the issues are.’

  Gaela’s eyes were boring into him. ‘You think we have particular issues?’

  ‘I’m not assuming that at all.’ He was scrambling instinctively for a prevarication when it occurred to him that Donal might be listening. He fell back on a slightly edited version of the truth. ‘In fact I was talking with Sally earlier and she mentioned that you and your son were doing really well, no special needs. That’s great of course, but I don’t know if you realise how unusual it is.’

  He decided on a final gambit, offering up a genuine concern that they might find persuasive. ‘There’s a danger sometimes that the only gems someone like me talks to are those who have, as you say, particular issues. That really would skew the findings, and I’m anxious to make sure it doesn’t happen.’

  Gaela and Bal looked at each other, apparently stumped. There was a rustle in the room behind him, a new focus to the murmured conversations. ‘Aryel’s here,’ Bal said. The relief was clear in his voice. ‘Let us think about it and let you know after, okay?’

  He nodded assent and turned. He didn’t see her at first, her diminutive figure hidden behind the crowd of taller, broader gems as she paused for hellos and handclasps, kisses on the cheek and whispered conferences. Eli watched her make her way down the room. As she moved in and out of view behind and between the crowding gems, he had the strange sensation that he was watching her take on the hopes and fears, the desires, disasters and desperation of everyone she met. He had a sudden image of them as a physical mass, a sack of cares hidden under her cloak.

  She reached them and smiled. ‘No need for introductions, I see. Sorry I’m late.’ Together they drifted towards the front. Behind her those who had been standing quickly found seats. Eli noticed that Bal was one of them, keeping a chair free beside him, while Gaela strolled forward to the stage. Rob beamed at Aryel with undisguised affection, then guided Eli and the others to chairs left vacant in the front row, whispering, ‘She’ll get us up when we’re needed.’

  Aryel lifted the cloak clear of her feet to climb the steps, paced to the front of the stage and stood quiet, waiting. An expectant murmur swept the hall.

  ‘Are we ready to start? Gaela?’

  The flame-haired woman was leaning nonchalantly against the stage, apparently gazing idly around the room. Eli had supposed she was just being slow to settle in for the meeting, and found her insouciance very much at odds with the tone of their earlier conversation. For a moment he thought Aryel was suggesting she take her seat. But Gaela was gazing intently into a rear corner where a couple of people with unremarkable hair were sitting.

  ‘Hello, Tobias,’ she drawled. ‘Who’s your friend?’

  One of the men blinked at her, then rose. ‘He’s … this is George.’ He gestured at the man next to him, who looked first startled, then flustered. He seemed reluctant to stand, but did so when Tobias prodded him in the shoulder. ‘He’s a member of my congregation, he’s volunteered to spend his holiday working in the community. He … we … thought this evening would be a good introduction?’ He turned to George, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. ‘George, do you want to say something about yourself?’

  ‘Do, George,’ Gaela called. ‘Especially say why you have a vidcam and sound mic stitched into your shirt.’

  The room went graveyard quiet. George gaped. Tobias spun to stare at Gaela, then back at George, then back at Gaela. ‘He doesn’t! What are you …’ He turned back to George. ‘What? What is she talking about?’

  A muttering started, angry but with a tinge, Eli thought, of amusement. Everyone had turned to peer at the hapless George, who looked too stunned to speak. He finally managed to mumble, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Then, trying for a bit more conviction, ‘I’m a volunteer like he said, I just wanted to—’

  ‘Two top
buttons,’ Gaela interrupted. ‘Connected to … would you turn around please, George?’ He stood as if paralysed. Eli thought his clothes looked perfectly normal, the shirt a fashionably retro piece in a rather loud pattern. Tobias was bending away now, as though George might be infectious. He seemed to recollect a sense of responsibility, leaned forward with distaste, and poked George into a shuffling turn.

  ‘Connected,’ said Gaela, as his grey-coated back came into view, ‘to a power pack. Five or six hours’ juice by the looks of it. Goodness me, George, how long do you think our meetings last?’

  Now sardonic laughter punctuated the muttering. Eli found himself grinning. Gaela was milking humour out of a potentially explosive situation, keeping the crowd entertained. He noted the look of intense interest with which Masoud of the Met was regarding her, Rob’s furious face and balled fists as he glared at George, and Sally Trieve’s seen-it-all-before impassivity.

  ‘Thank you, Gaela,’ said Aryel. ‘George, would you like to explain what you’re doing here, or would you rather just leave?’

  George seemed not to realise for a moment that he had been given a choice. Then he stumbled for the exit. Donal was on his feet.

  ‘Blooady hell, Aryel, doan’ you think we should fin’ out who the hell he is?’

  ‘I thought,’ she said peaceably, ‘that you might like to show him out, Don. Perhaps he might mention it once he gets over the stage fright.’

  More laughter. Donal rolled his eyes and followed the interloper out. Tobias was falling over himself to apologise to the assembly. Gaela made a final scan of the room and took her seat while Aryel was accepting his protestations of ignorance and settling him down. She had just finished when Donal came back.

  ‘Newsbeat,’ he reported. ‘On his ‘set before he was even down the stairs. Silly bugger’s goan’ have a long walk back to civilisation. An’ it’s rainin’.’ He grinned. ‘He doan’ like you much, Gaela.’ She waved indifference. ‘Not the first, won’t be the last.’ ‘Right,’ said Aryel. ‘Let’s get started.’

  It was indeed raining. It was raining hard, and the nearest station was at least half an hour’s walk away. George flicked his earset back to standby, pulled the hood of his coat as far forward as he could, and cursed every gem that had ever been born.

  He could tell he would get no credit for all the work he had done to get himself inside the meeting in the first place: the tedious hours of Sunday services, the spare time spent volunteering in soup kitchens and care homes, the invented interest in civil rights. His editor had made it clear that all that counted was what he had not done. His ears were still ringing. He had not got an exposé from the innermost gem sanctum. He had not got evidence of pro-gem bias on the part of the police. He could confirm their distaste for intrusion, but he was not bringing back words and images to counter the growing perception of Aryel Morningstar as honest, heroic and honourable.

  He realised he had made a mistake in not responding to her invitation to explain himself; if he had, and still been thrown out, he could have claimed it as proof of there being something to hide, something to which certain norms in high places were privy. But he had been so taken aback by the way the redheaded woman had homed in on him, the shocking ease with which she had literally seen through his disguise. Worse yet, he thought she might be the mother of the child who was being spoken of with something close to awe among the UC faithful.

  There might be an angle there, though. The only recording he had managed to get was of his own humiliation at Gaela’s hands. The story could be of a secretive group of grotesques in the heart of the city, harbouring unknown powers, protected by those who rightly ought to be concerned with the defence of their own kind …

  The piece was practically writing itself. He fumbled inside his coat, switched the power pack back on. If he started now he could convert the dictation into text and have a rough draft by the time he got back to the Newsbeat office.

  So it was that, between the pounding of the rain on his barely shielded head and his own muttering into the top button of his shirt, he heard nothing until the step, so close behind him as to almost share the same space, so close that as he turned to look the movement spun him into the short club clenched in his attacker’s fist. In the split second before it connected he caught a flash of purple hair, plastered and dripping. He dropped, boneless, staring up from the pavement at a vision that swam in and out of focus as his consciousness wavered and the rain beat down on his face.

  Two men, both topped with glowing purple, standing over him. Even through the waves of pain and fear he thought it strange they had not covered their heads.

  ‘Looks like a good one,’ floated down to him from above. ‘Let’s get it done.’

  14

  Commander Masoud slipped back into his seat on the other side of Rob. Aryel had begun by reviewing the events of the past several days, and had invited him up to confirm the details of interviews, assaults and arrests. He had essentially repeated what he’d told Eli and the others before the meeting started, adding an exhortation that his audience not respond to the increasing provocation from the streets and the streams by taking matters into their own hands.

  ‘I know sitting tight can be a tough ask,’ he’d said. ‘And this is probably going to get worse before it gets better. We’ll do everything we can to protect you, but for the next few days it would be a good idea to stay close to home if you can.’

  That had prompted an uproar. Aryel had quieted them down and picked out a few representative voices. They all had the same point to make: it was more than a bit unfair for people who had done nothing wrong to be imprisoned in their own homes while their aggressors roamed the streets. Those who wished them to be once more isolated from the rest of humanity, if not eliminated altogether, would be getting what they wanted by default. Masoud agreed in principle, but in practice he feared for their safety in the current climate. He had, in what Eli thought was a commendable display of candour, spoken directly to the crowd.

  ‘Aryel and I began this conversation at the Royal London at five o’clock this morning while a member of this community was still in surgery. I understand how you all feel, but you need to weigh up the risks that next time it might be you. Callan is very, very lucky to be alive. I don’t want to have to come back here to tell your friends that one of you was less lucky.’

  There were serious faces and nods of grim acknowledgement around the room. Aryel thanked him and updated them on the condition of Callan, the other gems and, interestingly, the norm casualties as well, while the commander stepped down.

  Eli understood the format now, and was impressed by how well it worked. He had expected a series of presentations, punctuated by a few questions from the floor, but instead it really was a meeting in which all were encouraged to participate. She had propped her tablet on the lectern, and was using it to receive messages from those outside the hall, and those present but unwilling to draw attention to themselves. This allowed the autistics and the shy to take part on an equal footing with the rest, since she checked the tablet frequently. She would read the messages aloud, and as with questions voiced from the crowd would either respond herself, or direct them to where they could best be answered.

  Bal’s hand was up. ‘I appreciate that the police may be doing the best they can for us at the moment,’ he said when Aryel gave him the floor. ‘But the simple fact is they follow orders, and the orders could change. If I understand correctly, the Conference that we’re here to talk about is going to decide whether we have the same rights as norms, or not.’ A murmur started at that. Bal raised his voice and kept talking over it.

  ‘If it decides we do then things might be rough for a while but the commander and his colleagues, and Sally and her team,’ he nodded to the social services director, who shifted uncomfortably next to Eli, ‘and the health services, and all the rest of it, will keep on supporting us just like they do everybody else. But if it decides we don’t then all of that changes.’

&n
bsp; The murmur rose to a growl and then stopped as Aryel raised her hand for quiet. Bal’s words fell loud into the sudden silence. ‘If it decides we don’t then all of those institutions could be told not to protect us from discrimination, but to enforce it. We’ve been in this neutral zone for a year, and we all like to think that when we come out of it it’ll be as full citizens, different but equal to the norms. But it’s up to them, and they could decide to kick us right back where we came from.’

  The entire room seemed to have been inhaling, like a freediver preparing for descent. Now it erupted. Most of the shouts were of disbelief, even derision, but Eli heard more than a few who thought Bal had got it exactly right. The prevailing view, though, seemed to be that Aryel should tell him to stop exaggerating. He sat impassive, Gaela’s hand in his, and Eli thought a flicker of acknowledgement passed between him and Aryel.

  She raised her hands and they quieted down again, more slowly this time. ‘Bal is essentially correct,’ she said, and waited for the words to hit home. ‘That possibility had, until very recently, seemed remote. But the timing of this campaign against us is not a coincidence. It’s clear to me that there is a move ahead of the Conference to try and make us seem as dangerous and unpredictable as possible. And the obvious reason for that is to be able to justify restricting our rights as much as possible.’

  There was another outburst. The Declaration was repeatedly invoked. Aryel nodded acknowledgement while she stepped over to glance at the tablet. She looked up.

  ‘The number one question, from the floor as well, is how could they do that,’ she said. ‘I think everyone needs to understand the purpose and powers of the Conference. Dr Trench, would you please come up?’

  Rob climbed onto the stage and launched into a long explanation of who had organised the Conference, what authority they had and what processes would have to be gone through before anything they recommended had any practical impact. Eli could see him trying to find more to throw in before he was forced to get to the point. He glanced around, taking in the growing bewilderment in the room. Rob was a vocal advocate for gem equality and consequently very well liked, but he was starting to sound evasive and look desperate. When he paused for breath Eli raised his hand.