Spirits of Flux and Anchor

by Jack L. Chalker

  Nice of her, Cassie thought sourly. Next thing you know she’ll be saying that we’re the lucky ones. She wondered idly where Dar was. Probably stuck in a crowd just like her, and even less understanding of just what was happening to him and why.

  “When each child becomes an adult, she or he was given a bracelet and charm by the local parish to which that person belonged,” the Sister General went on. The explanation was hardly necessary, but it was required of the Rite. “Those people are here now. For most, this will be the day of their true coming of age. Those whom the Holy Mother does not choose will report, as soon as they can after returning to their homes, to their local parish church and receive a registry number, and then they shall go to the government house in their communities and register and receive the rights, privileges, responsibilities, and duties of full citizens.”

  She turned and looked back at the huge drum behind her. “Here are copies of the charms each wears. Seven times does the drum spin, and then the Holy Mother will tell us the names one by one.”

  The administrative chief and one of the wardens started the thing spinning the requisite number of times, then, finally, brought it to a stop. The hundreds of gold and silver colored amulets made quite a racket.

  “We will now begin to read the divine will,” the Sister General told them. With that she moved back, opened the small door in the drum, and without looking at anything save the crowd, now hushed and tense, she drew the first small tag. Cassie couldn’t see much of the spectacle, but she had been wondering how they fixed it.

  The first tag was handed to the administrative chief, who took it and then consulted a large bound volume—the birth register. “JRL-4662-622-125K,” she announced. “Dileter of Kar Riding, come forward to the platform.”

  As easy as that, Cassie reflected. Who was ever going to check all those numbers against the charms drawn and find out that what the clerk was reading had actually been worked out in advance and had no relation to the charm whatsoever?

  As each number was read out, there was a collective sigh, or moan, from the crowd, plus occasional shrieks, wails, and protests from those called or from their friends and family. Dar was the ninth called. Cassie was the fourteenth. They were taking no chances on giving them any freedom at all.

  Resigned, she made her way, with difficulty, through the crowd, which only gave way when she told each obstruction in turn she’d been called. Then they were very solicitous and their pity just dripped from them, yet it was mixed with a strong sense of relief as well. It’s not me. It’s not someone I know. And, in the midst of it all, the acute observer could pick out a small fortune in betting slips changing hands with each and every pick of the Sister General. Cass hated them for their pity and for their hypocrisy as well. I’m coming back, you bastards! she swore silently. I’m coming back to tear down this damned city and wipe those looks off your holier-than-thou faces.

  She reached the platform and was actually assisted up by two wardens as if she were some sort of honored guest. Talk about hypocrites! She was led over to where those called were assembling in neat rows. Most of them looked scared to death or still in shock, and one or two were trembling uncontrollably or sobbing softly to themselves. Occasionally someone would pass out in shock when a name was called, and there were several unconscious bodies around by the end of it.

  Finally, it was over. The last number had been called, and the crowd knew it, and gave the hundred and six lost souls on the stage the final indignity.

  They cheered. They clapped. They built their joy into a thunderous crescendo that echoed off all points of the square and throughout the city, sweeping over the sobbing and shaking friends and family of those on stage who. would now be declared property, then dead, never to be seen or heard from again.

  Out of a class of 3,941, 3,835 rejoiced, as did their friends and families. Although a hundred and six were now condemned, it was a small fraction of the total, and would soon be forgotten except for the parents, siblings, friends, and relatives of those now gone. Even that, in time, would fade, as it always did, the same as if those hundred and six had been felled by accident or injury.

  It was not so surprising that three of the unlucky picks did not show up for the public honor; rather, it surprised Cassie that so few had run for it. They didn’t have a prayer, though, as the Sister General pointed out as soon as the crowd let her get a word in.

  “Know you all that the Holy Mother has chosen three and looked for them and they are not here,” she announced. “Know that all those declared property of the state must surrender within one day of the first bell of Paring Rite. Know, too, that if those we will now designate are not turned over to the Temple here within that period they will be declared agents of evil and discord. Any who help them shall suffer the same fate as they. Any who do so much as give them a cup of water, or simply not report them at once and aid in their apprehension, shall be guilty of a mortal sin beyond any redemption in this life and punished by terrible torments in their next, and shall forfeit all rights, citizenship, and property and themselves become property of the state. Even one who hides this from us cannot hide from the Holy Mother, who shall wreak a terrible vengeance on those who help thwart Her divine will.”

  She read the names and numbers once again, and gave the benediction. The lottery drum was already removed to one side, and she turned and walked regally back up the steps to the Temple, and inside. Wardens flanked the miserable chosen, many of whom had to help their comrades merely stand, and they were then directed back into the Temple as well. Even Cassie found herself trembling slightly now that it was done, and more than a little scared. Knowing that it was fixed and that it was all a lie did nothing to change the fact that she had been declared property and banished, and was now going to the same unknown fate as those around her.

  6

  MULES

  They were ushered into a lower level room that was large but spartan. In fact, it was often used as a small gym by the Temple priestesses, and the remains of some gym apparatus were still there, pushed against a far wall. The entire group was lined up in seven rows of fifteen each, without regard to much of anything. Wardens with nasty looking batons were posted all over the place, but the bulk of the personnel were priestesses in medical yellow. While the wardens kept them in line and menaced someone here and there who made a sound or flagged in position, the nurses measured out a clear-looking liquid into small cups and put them out on tables.

  “All right—first row, walk to that table there and each take a cup,” the chief warden instructed. “Then get back into line.”

  They did as they were instructed, some sniffing or looking dubiously at the unfamiliar substance. It smelled a lot like lemonade.

  Cass stood in the third row and waited her turn with the rest. She looked, of course, for others she might know in the group, as some of the others did as well, and saw several familiar faces. Her riding seemed particularly wicked this time out.

  Finally she got her drink and was back in line, and after a while everyone had one. “Now, first row, drink all of the liquid and, when finished, turn the cup upside down,” the warden instructed, “then sit on the floor where you are.”

  They did as instructed, although a couple of attempts to hold the stuff in their mouths brought sharp and painful blows from the batons and yelps of pain, and one was singled out, pinned down, and had a cup force-fed down his throat. The object lesson was well-taken; nobody in any of the subsequent rows failed to drink their cups dry.

  Cassie had had more than a few qualms about downing the stuff after Lani’s grisly catalog of horrible drugs, but the drink .turned out to be some sort of tranquilizer. It produced an odd effect. She felt her body getting very sleepy, very distant, to the point where she was barely conscious that it was there at all, and her emotions seemed to be equally suppressed, yet her mind remained seemingly clear and sharp, and she was both conscious of and interested in the proceedings around her. In fact, it was an effective hypnot
ic, putting them all under yet retaining their undivided attention.

  The head nurse went to each of them and checked to make certain that the drug had taken effect, then came back and stood in front of them. “You will give me your total attention and cooperation,” she began, and instantly she had it. “The first row will get to its feet now.” All of the first row moved as one.

  “Take two steps forward, first row,” she instructed, “then remove every piece of clothing you have on you and place it in a bundle in front of you.” Again, they did as instructed, without regard to modesty or sex. The curious thing was, they felt wide awake and totally alert—they just did what they were told as if they had no control whatsoever over their body movements.

  “Now you will all pick up your clothing and hold it in front of you. That’s right. Now, you will all turn to your right, so that you form a line, and walk slowly to the large box over there, drop your clothes in it, then go to the first table next to the box.”

  The procedure was repeated for each one. At the first table non-Temple doctors of both sexes gave each a fairly routine physical, then they were directed to the second, where their heads were shaved clean, first with some sort of powered razors, then with a creamy compound that removed any last vestiges of hair, right down into the pores and to the base of the roots. This was the first mark of those chosen in the Paring Rite. If, somehow, one or more got away, they would be forever marked by total and complete baldness.

  The second mark was the most degrading, and was administered by a very strange chair-like machine. Each in turn was told to sit in the large contraption, their rears against a metal plate of some sort. An attendant punched a button, and, when they got up, there was an indelible long number tattooed in purple on their behinds. Similarly, they were told to put their right thumbs in a hole in a small device, and that gave a purplish stain that made the fingerprint really stand out. Boys, Cassie noted, also had the shave and cream treatment for facial hair of any sort.

  Finally, they were given a series of injections, purposes unknown, then broken up into small groups and taken to smaller rooms where they were given a basic meal to eat—some sort of stew, not very good, but far better than the crap they’d given her in the cell—and then were taken to basic showers and rinsed from head to toe. This done, they were taken back to the gym, where all of the equipment had been cleared and the floor covered with huge, gray cushioned mats of the usual sort found in school gymnasiums, and the chief warden told them, “All right. You will remain here until it is time to leave. All exits will be guarded by wardens who would just love to make an example of somebody trying to leave. There is a basic bathroom through those small doors over there if you need to take a crap. Anybody still thinking of leaving before we let you should remember your stigmata and know that these will make you known to one and all. There is no place to run in Anchor Logh.” And, with that, she departed.

  The drug was wearing off rapidly now, and Cassie could feel the sting on her ass where the number had been tattooed, but a side effect of the stuff was that it made you terribly tired and sleepy. Most of them, herself included, just sank down on the mats and passed out.

  It was an unpleasant sleep and an unpleasant awakening, although in a sense it was better because, once it was determined that what had happened was no nightmare, there was a sense on the part of most of the group to adapt to the situation as something new to be faced, with unpleasant future realities shunted to a back part of the mind.

  Cassie awoke with a mild headache and a little dizziness that soon passed, and she looked around. Some of the others had apparently been awake for some time, while others were still in various stages of half-sleep, but there was some moving around, whispered talking, and once in a while somebody would stagger to the bathroom.

  They were a strange sight, all these people with no clothes or hair and numbers on their asses, but since everybody was that way it soon seemed somewhat normal, sort of like a uniform binding them together. Cassie got up and, after a false start or two, started to walk around and see if she could find anybody she knew. A large boy sitting up against a wall called to her. “Hey! Cass! Is that you?”

  She smiled, turned, and went over to him. Hairless, Dar looked more the country bumpkin than ever.

  “I saw you come up when you were called,” he told her. “I really wasn’t expecting to see you here, though.” His face darkened. “I kind of figured it’d be Lani.”

  She sat down beside him, paused, trying to collect her thoughts, then said, “Lani’s not with our group, Dar, but she’ll probably go out with us. I’ve seen her.” Carefully, hesitantly, she told the story from the point at which they’d split up at the Carnival until she’d been shoved outside for the Paring Rite. She spared nothing, but was as gentle as she could be.

  He took it well, although for a moment he just sat there, thinking hard. Finally he said, “Damn. And I always figured she was so much smarter’n me. That’s just dumb foolishness.” He paused a moment more, then added, “But, like you said, this is all just dumb foolishness, isn’t it?”

  She smiled wanly. “That’s about it. I’m a little surprised at how you’re taking it all, though. Don’t you go along with her that it’s the divine will?”

  He snorted. “Divine will—Hell! I already figured that any goddess that would do this mean thing to nice people like you and Lani wasn’t much worth a damn. It ain’t fair, that’s all, and who wants a bunch of gods who ain’t fair?”

  She almost kissed and hugged him for that, but kept still. Eventually he told her of his own experiences, of getting the knockout drinks at the bar and waking up in the youth hostel, trying to see Lani, and being told she wasn’t there. He’d become something of a wild man at that, realizing that she’d been abducted and blaming himself for it. He’d stormed back to the bar looking for the guy who’d done it and, when he couldn’t find him, he’d started tearing the bar apart. In the end, the cops came and arrested him and had refused to listen to his protests about Lani. A cop did take his statement, when he’d calmed down enough to give one, and promised to check for the missing girl, but they’d left him locked up.

  Finally a magistrate, who was, of course, a Temple priestess, had heard his case, but refused to even allow any testimony on Lani’s disappearance. She told him there was no excuse for such misbehavior, that there were proper channels if he had a problem, and she sentenced him to remain in jail until Paring Rite, which he had.

  “I kind of figured my number was up then, and Lani’s too,” he told her. “I mean, when that bitch of a judge wouldn’t even listen about a kidnapping— hell, I smelled rotten meat. Then, when I was called so quickly, that just cinched it.”

  She nodded, feeling better than she had in a long time. It was good to be believed, and to find a kindred spirit in all this mess. They talked for a while, mostly on inconsequential things, and Dar remarked, “Hey—you know, it’s funny.”

  “Huh? What’s funny?”

  “Well, here we are, all naked and all, with a bunch of guys and girls, and nobody’s the least bit turned on, if you know what I mean. I mean, if you can’t be bad now, when can you?”

  She hadn’t really noticed it before, but he was right. Dar was, in fact, as amply endowed in his area as Lani was in hers, yet she felt not the slightest urge or inclination there. At first she just put it down to the situation, or the public nature of the room, but now she realized that this wasn’t explainable by that at all. In fact, even if some of the boys were restrained, others like Dar would not be, and their sexual arousal would be impossible to hide.

  “It must be those shots they gave us,” she decided. “I guess one of them just, well, turned us all off.”

  Dar sighed. “Yeah. It ain’t enough to make us bald and dye us purple. They got to make us mules, too.” He looked at her. “Too bad, too. I got to admit, Cass, I never much thought of you except as one of the boys, but, like this, well, you’re kind’a cute. Ain’t no mistaking you for a boy,
anyway.”

  She grinned broadly, leaned over, and kissed him gently on the cheek. “That’s the nicest thing any boy’s ever said to me. I appreciate it, Dar. I really do.”

  “Yeah, too bad. The mind’s willin’ but the motor just won’t start.” They sat there a while longer, and eventually several others recognized them and came over and joined them. They were a mixed lot from the riding, and also somewhat mixed in their reactions to all this. Cass was surprised to find how few were deep-down religious about it all. It’s easy to see someone else get picked for sin, but pretty tough to get picked for it yourself when others whom you know are far worse than you were freed to live normal lives. Not that there weren’t a few wail-and-doom fanatics, but not many.

  Some friends, old and new, banded together with them for at least a brief association. There,were Suzl and Nadya, two girls who crushed Cassie’s old belief—or hope—that the pretty and sexy ones would be nothing without hairdos, makeup, and careful dressing, and Canty and Ivon, one a short, squat boy with a mischievous streak, the other built like a bull. Ivon, the big, muscular one, was pretty bright, but he had both a temper and an attitude that showed a bull-like lack of fear—and lack of self-control.

  “Turned us into damned mules, that’s what they did,” Ivon grumped. “Shaved, sexless, and branded. I suppose a halter’s next.”

  The shots seemed to have affected them all more than they’d expected. “I was in the middle of my period yesterday,” Suzl noted. “Now—nothing. I wonder what else those shots did? I wonder if it’s permanent?” That last was the unspoken primary fear of all of them.