by Geoff Ryman
'Fatimah says it will kill you!'
The whole room started to buzz. It was as if the walls were full of hornets. Mae felt herself go dim and old, and she was frightened and alone.
Left upstairs all day, too weak to walk far, wanting to talk, wanting to be heard, always told you are too old, Gran, don't tax yourself. Stay still, stay quiet. You will be dead soon, and even quieter.
'Don't do this,' said Mae, in a very quiet, distracted voice, half hers, half Mrs Tung's. 'Don't leave me alone.'
Kwan leaned forward and took her hand. 'That's exactly what we will not do, Mae. We are your friends, and we will always stand by you.'
Sunni took her hand as well. 'Yes, Mae. We have had disagreements in the past, but we have overcome them. Listen to your friends; we do this out of concern for you.'
Kwan's eyes were firm. 'We think it is best if you just leave the TV alone.'
'For a while,' said Sunni. 'Until you are well and rested again.'
'Mae! You should see yourself! You look like a ghost. Your face is thin, your eyes stare, your hair is like a witch's.'
'You – who were the most elegant woman in the village,' said Sunni.
'You need help,' said Kwan, with finality.
'And,' chuckled Sunni, 'you need to leave that thing alone.'
'You need a rest from the TV,' said Kwan again, determined.
'Don't do this to me,' Mae repeated.
Her friends – her friends who had stood by her, who had not deserted her – why were they doing this now?
'Let Siao do the screens for Mr Pin and the others.'
'Maybe you could go to Balshang, stay with your son. Have tea with your new friend, Miss Soo. Have you ever seen the capital?'
'No,' said Mae, arms folded.
'There you go!' Sunni lifted up her arms as if everything were evident, settled. 'Maybe we could all go together. I would love to see the big city!'
'My work is here,' said Mae. 'The road is closed. What business is any of this of yours?'
'Come and live with me again for a while, Mae. Please!' said Kwan.
'No,' said Mae. 'I am happy living here with my family.'
Kwan leaned forward, her voice flat. 'Mae,' she demanded. 'Come with us.'
'I am happy as I am,' said Mae.
They tried for a further fifteen minutes, cajoling, tugging on her arm, offering her tea, saying she had worked harder than anyone and that she had won, she had succeeded, all the village was learning. Was the village not a Centre of Progress? Everyone knew that it was because of her.
'But even strong branches break when the load is too great,' said Sunni.
Everything they said availed nothing. They had stopped talking about making her stop work or taking away her baby, but that was what they intended.
Finally, sour, made angry and defeated, Kwan and Sunni left.
Mae sat still until she was sure they were gone.
Then she locked and barred her door. She thought about what Kwan might do next if she were determined enough.
Mae conferenced Mr Oz. 'Yes, yes, hello, it's always a pleasure. Look, I need a wireless account of my own for my TV.'
Mr Oz sounded relaxed and cheerful, away from the road. 'That should be easy enough. Just call the telephone company.'
'It's urgent. I need it done today.'
'Today? I don't know. You used to have a mobile phone, didn't you? You could try calling them. Why? Is there a problem with Swallow Communications?'
'Let's just say I just have a suspicion that Kwan might develop account problems.' She might cut Mae off.
Mr Oz groaned. Why was he upset? He was not the one with the problem. 'You've got extendable credit with the bank. Make sure they know that. Have the bank references ready, make sure you have your phone account number, and everything about your TV. It's a Hitachi 7700 PDTV. Okay? And Mae? What's wrong?'
Mae thought for a moment about future and past, and then said, 'I am too far ahead of them.'
Then she conferenced Sloop at his desk at the telephone company.
His round face glistened and he chuckled. 'There is no problem. We like new business.'
'I need it done today,' she said.
Sloop blinked. 'Today?'
It was complicated. Mae would have to download her new ID from their servers. Sloop would have to talk her through the process of reconfiguration.
She was at work on that when Kwan and Sunni came back. They hammered on the door. 'Mae! Don't be ridiculous! Open this door!'
'Mae, why are you leaving Swallow Communications?!' Mae looked out from her attic skylight. She looked down on them shuffling in front of her bolted door. They had Mr Wing with them.
Sunni's voice was shrill. 'Mae! We are your friends! We are trying to help!'
Mr Wing chortled, 'Mae, if we wanted to cut you off, it would be just as easy to cut the power!'
Kwan's voice was like a knife, shushing him in anger.
Mae unlatched her window. 'I have my own account, I have my own food, I have my own family. I will carry on my business, and I will continue to tell people about the Flood.'
Kwan puffed out air. 'You will end up damaging the thing you want to save.'
Sunni stepped forward. 'Mae! At least go to see doctors about that baby!'
'Thank you for shouting my business all over the valley,' said Mae. She latched the skylight shut, and went back to work.
'Mae! No one wants to hurt you!' Sunni called.
Mae heard Kwan murmur, 'I think we're just making things worse.'
Mae turned again to her beautiful screens and the messengers like birds.
There was another knocking at the door.
'Mrs Chung-ma'am,' someone called. It was Sezen.
And Mae's response was: What now? She went to the trapdoor. Suddenly it looked a long way down to the kitchen floor. Mae didn't want to move. She wanted to stay in her loft, above the floodwaters, with her machine.
'Please let me in,' Sezen called.
A thought of Mrs Tung's seemed to breathe through Mae.
We all end up alone, with no one understanding.
Mae went back to the TV. She watched as her morning weather data uploaded to Balshang.
There were footsteps on the roof. Mae heard boots skidding on stone tiles.
'Mae, this is Sezen,' said a voice from above.
'Get away, you silly girl, you will fall and kill yourself,' said Mae.
'I'm not one of them, Mae. I wouldn't do that to you. What did they say?' The voice through the stone tiles was as clear as if Sezen were in the room.
'They want me to stop working. They want to take everything away from me and they say they want to help me.'
' Tuh. Typical. You are a wild woman and don't wait for them to approve what you do. You go too far too fast.'
'They want to kill my baby,' said Mae, her voice thickening with rage. 'That bloody woman in the City has been trying to kill my baby all along, and she has been writing to Kwan.'
'Don't you worry, Mae, Sezen will never let you down. Ah? We are wild women together. What do you need me to do?'
'Get down off that roof before you kill yourself
Sezen laughed. 'The view is lovely up here. Okay. I am holding on to the crest of the roof so I cannot fall. So, what do you need me to do?'
Mae considered. She considered being accosted alone in the fields, surrounded by so-called friends. She considered all the hours she worked. She considered the baby in her belly made of fire. She considered the undoubted truth that she was doing too much. Above all else, she considered the village.
'I need you to help collect Info,' Mae said. 'Info about snow.'
'Mae!' someone shouted. 'What is going on?'
Sezen giggled. 'You have shut out Siao.'
'Siao, hold on, is there anyone with you?' For just a moment, Mae imagined that they might be with Siao; for just a moment, that Siao might even have joined them.
'I want lunch!' he shouted back.
Mae went down and l
et him in. Sezen joined them, grinning as Mae raged, pacing her own kitchen in fury. Siao and Sezen caught each other's eyes and mimed ducking.
'So I got a new wireless account, my machine is up in the loft! I don't need them!'
'Good,' said Siao, with a mild smile. 'You have needed to be independent of Kwan for a while. Don't worry, eh? If they cut off the electricity, I know how to get it going again. I'll put printout through doors, whatever.'
Mae hugged him in gratitude, and he kissed the top of her head. They hung together for a just a moment as if in outer space. Then they remembered Sezen was there. She made a mysterious and somehow knowing gesture, holding up both hands, palms out.
In the evening, an e-mail arrived from Mr Ken.
He had keyed it in, not spoken it, so he must not have wanted to be overheard. It came from Sunni's machine.
If you are in trouble, I will help. You know that. Please call on me to help. But please, also tell me: What is this about a baby?
By all the stars, she hadn't told him. She had not told Kuei about his child. The room seemed suddenly colder, her cheeks burned. She could hear Siao below in the kitchen, cooking dinner for her. The metal spoon tinged against the wok; Siao was humming a song.
Mae! What are you doing?
CHAPTER 22
It was Chinese New Year and Mae was alone.
Kwan was having a party. After everything that had happened, Mae would not attend. Why should she – to be argued at, cajoled, and entreated?
Something was up with Siao. He had come back from the Teahouse looking distracted. He tore off the top of his thumbnail with his teeth, kissed Mae on the cheek, and told her not to worry. Then he was gone in young Mr Pin's car. Old Mr Chung shuffled and shrugged and then left early, perhaps embarrassed, for a gathering of old village reprobates like himself.
Mae had hoped at least to share some warm rice wine at New Year's with her family, with Siao. Whenever she talked to Siao she always got good sense, she always felt secure.
She didn't own him; if he wanted to go off and have fun, okay. He wasn't married, he must need a woman, and perhaps he hoped to find one.
And, ah, Mae, that is it. That is why your hands tumble over themselves, round and round. That is why you cannot sit still. You see another woman coming into the house, and that disturbs you, but more than that, you see another woman with Siao.
Mae? What has happened here? Sit down, Mae, and look at your hands. What do they tell you?
They tell you want to look into his calm, honest blue-grey eyes. You want to see his smooth lean arms, with the silky skin that mixes Karzistan with China. You want to hear his deep, measured voice. You wish he were here. You wish you were with him.
Mae put her head into her hands. Oh, Mae Mae, Mae, Mae, what is this?
Mae stood up from the kitchen table. I want him to work with me. We work well together. He understands the things I understand. He is even better than me at selling, he is better than me at understanding what all this new stuff is for…
Yes, Mae, and what else?
I want to hold him, I want to give him a home, I want to show him the respect his stupid brother never gave him. I want him to know that someone sees how smart he is, how kind, how patient. How wise.
Oh, Mae. You are in love with your husband's brother.
Well, it is traditional. The husband dies, the brother can take over. But when the husband just goes off? When the husband goes off because the wife went with his next-door neighbour?
And when she is about to have the next-door neighbour's child?
Oh, Mae, the knots you tie. If you were scandalous before, what will you be after this? And poor Siao, suppose he feels nothing for you but kindness? What will he feel if you declare yourself? You will be trapped together in the house, you see each other half-naked nearly every day, he has to think of his brother, he has to be neighbours with Mr Ken… Oh, Mae, nobody needs this!
Mae, if you go after your husband's brother, you really will lose everything. Maybe you really have gone mad.
But once given its proper name, the feeling would not go away.
I love his little beard, I love the way it makes his teeth shine out when he smiles, I love the slow way he moves, I love the way he turns everything around, stands it on its head, and it makes more sense that way. My God, I love his body, I love his mind.
When did it change? When did I notice as if in passing that he was also handsome? When did he wake up and start to speak? Or rather, when did I begin listening to him?
Mae, leave this. You don't like being alone, that's all. Being alone at New Year's is making me jealous. I do not like being the crazy lady of the village. I do not like being where I am. I am not Madam Owl, I am not Mrs Disruption, and I wish all this would stop. I want peace, I want quiet.
Mae went up to the loft to work. The moment she woke up the TV, it was invaded. The screen was cleared, and there was Kwan.
'Mae,' Kwan said, her living room ghostly behind her. Mae reached forward to restart. 'Please don't go. We must talk real-time. Open other channel.'
The picture was torn in half, and there, on her machine, uninvited and full of concern, was Fatimah, of Yeshiboz Sistemlar. 'Hello, Mae,' she said.
Mae felt herself go cold. 'Fatimah, I told you once before that you would find it impossible to do good,' said Mae. 'It is nothing to do with who you are. It is your job.'
'Mae, please listen,' said Kwan. 'This woman is a doctor.'
'Nurse. She kept me prisoner.'
Fatimah looked so sweet, made-up, groomed. Oh, she's wearing white, that gives her the right to kill people's children. 'Mrs Chung. There is no chance of it coming to term. It could kill you.'
'Oh, so it is by no means certain I will die?'
Fatimah sighed. 'Not if we could get you into a hospital.'
Kwan's arms were folded. It was the posture she adopted whenever she struggled against other people's stupidity. 'She is trying to help save both of you, Mae.'
'Mae,' said Fatimah, sounding conciliatory, 'Come to us, in a hospital, stay with us.'
'Okay. Maybe I will go and stay in a hospital in May. Maybe the whole month. Is that good enough for you? Goodbye.'
Mae unplugged the machine and detached the battery. The screen image collapsed as if punctured. All communication would be broken, and the invasive code disabled. She pushed the battery back in, and a fresh clear screen came up. She downloaded her written mail.
Her machine was invaded again. The image interlaced in stages.
'This is rude, crashing in on me like this,' said Mae.
'You are still distributing paper,' said Kwan, fixing her eye on her. 'You are still telling people, "No Flood just yet, but more snow and it will come." I had Old Mrs Nan in here yesterday, asking if I could keep her goats in my loft.'
'It's the safest place for them,' said Mae. 'Since no one is taking any steps to save people, maybe the goats will at least survive the flood.'
'Why are you having the child?' Kwan demanded.
'Why did you have yours?'
'Do you think it's some kind of magic sign?' Kwan demanded, still beautiful, little aging pouches of loose flesh under the determined mouth.
Mae thrust out her jaw. 'Yes,' she said. Since you phrase it that way.
Kwan's eyes widened momentarily.
'Look, Kwan. I am doing this weather work. The weather is all tied up together. But not like we think. We think that everything that happens has a cause. That I strike with a knife and that causes a cut. But sometimes a cut happens somewhere else, too, without a cause. Sometimes things happen because the world is held together by patterns. Things that are alike. So there are signs and portents.'
Kwan chose her words. 'You believe your child is a sign.'
'So is the Flood,' said Mae.
Kwan looked momentarily defeated. She wilted a little and ran her hand over her forehead. 'You really have been working too hard.'
'My baby is lodged in my stomach, it will
be born out of my mouth. You know why Mr Tunch wants my baby dead? Because he thinks my child is a portent, too.'
'Mae,' said Kwan in despair. 'Listen to yourself. Please. You sound like some superstitious old woman from one hundred years ago.'
'I am one,' said Mae.
Kwan shook her head.
'Everything is changing and my baby is part of everything. You know what Fatimah does? She helps makes intelligent talking dogs. One of them helped me escape. His name was Ling. How is that for Karz people, ah? – they always give their dogs Chinese names. A talking intelligent dog, and it asked, asked to be put back as a dog.'
Kwan's face was shaking slightly from side to side. 'You really have gone, Mae,' she sighed.
'Who has gone? You threaten me, you break into my machine. Are you going to break down my door? Are you going to drag me off into the night?'
Kwan did not answer. Her face said: Whatever is necessary to help you. Her words said something else. 'Mae. You can believe any nonsense that you like. But you must shut up, because your nonsense is stopping the very thing you believe in most. Progress. Mae, I cannot tell people this is a good thing when you are being driven crazy.'
'Ah, so you are not concerned about me, really.'
Kwan scratched her hair, delicately. 'I am concerned about many things, including you.'
'So. How are you going to stop me talking? Shen couldn't. You are so concerned about progress. Is it progress to start bossing people around, like the government? The government thinks you are nonsense, Kwan. Who saved you then?'
'You.'
'Then leave me alone.'
Kwan looked very determined. 'I am going to return the favour, Mae. I am not one to give up on a friend.'
It was Kwan who cut off communication this time.
Mae was left quaking with rage. Who was Kwan to tell her what to do? To tell her what to say, to tell her to get rid of her baby? Kwan, you have been important in the village too long, you have come to think of yourself as Head Woman.
She read her mail.
____________________
e-mail from: Mr Ken Kuei
20 February
Dear Mae,
