In the courtyard, a shape moved. Constance could distinguish a woman holding an egglight which illuminated a strip of chiffon round her neck. The red cloth stood out vividly, as a fresh scar shows against flesh.
At Constance’s footsteps, the stranger called out, “I know you! You’re her other! Silence’s other!”
“Who are you?”
“You’re Constance. I recognise you. You’re the one remaining link to Silence.”
She slid two fingers into her mouth and let out a whistle. An answering whistle bounced back. Two figures sprinted into view, panting from exertion through the clammy air. They, too, wore lengths of a sheer, red material at their necks and carried egglights.
“Is it her?” called one.
“Yes,” said the first. “It’s Silence’s other.”
Reverent, their attention converged on her.
One of them found her voice. “Tell us about Silence. You must have learned so much from her.”
“Silence has gone,” said Constance.
“Sister, she’s here.”
“No, she discontinued.”
“She hasn’t discontinued. She’ll go on forever.”
“Who are you?”
“We’re the Silenced. We live to honour her.”
Questions began to rain down on Constance.
“Why did she do it?”
“Did her babyfusion cause her pain?”
“What was her message for us?”
Bewildered, she made no effort to answer them. Until a question shook her.
“Is it true she turned against Sisterland?”
“Silence loved Sisterland,” Constance protested.
“But she chose nothingness above Sisterland. Why?”
Constance pushed past them, towards the communal front door. On the step lay a pile of red flowers, all shades of the colour, from flame through to a burgundy-black. Some were withered, but the flowers on top were fresh blooms. She raised her comtel for admission, braced to press the alarm button if the women followed. But they stayed put. Watching.
Inside her twoser, she went to the window to check on them. The three were directly below, watching for her. She activated the blankout on both windows. Rattled, she turned on her entscreen, flicking through the menu selection. She had a choice between two worthy options: the Steadfast City Orchestra performing works by a selection of Sisterland’s composers, or a documentary about Beloved’s tour of all the belts. She plumped for the tour. It was relentlessly uplifting, even in Black Particle, home to Safe Space and little else. Sisterland consisted of many territories, from snow-capped peaks to valleys with lakes, yet Constance’s knowledge of them was theoretical. In Steadfast, the climate was cooler, and people could run without breaking into an immediate sweat. Righteous had hot springs, where sisters could bathe outdoors all year round. She knew this from the entscreen. She would like to know it from experience.
Constance switched off halfway through Beloved’s grand tour.
She woke late, and for a few moments of drowsy joy imagined herself still in matingplace, due to see Harper later that day. But her surroundings revealed themselves, and disappointment replaced anticipation.
Remembering the Silenced, she levered herself out of her pop-up and steered for the window, raising the blankout. They were multiplying. Below stood a group of six women, each wearing a scarlet scarf. They gestured when they saw her. Constance closed the blankout, and pressed the icon on the contact console that connected her with the unit-minder.
“Greetings, sister. Those women outside. How long have they been waiting?”
“Greetings, sister. Last night made five nights. They’re obsessed with your other. I told ’em she was ordinary. But they won’t believe me. They pounce on any snippet about her.”
“Do the peers know?”
“Sure do. Been here checking. But as long as they don’t make a nuisance of themselves, nothing to be done. They ain’t breaking any directives.”
“Aren’t they causing a disturbance?”
“By talking about Silence? By leaving flowers on the doorstep? Mind you, some of the residents are unhappy about the flowers. They say it’s disrespectful. Smacks of the flowers left at Beloved’s feet. They drop ’em off at the Hope Bridge, too. Always red. Like their bows.”
“What’s behind those red scarves?”
“Something to do with remembering Silence. They’ve decided to turn her into something she wasn’t, and there ain’t a thing to be done about it. Ignore ’em, and they’ll find something else to fix on. That’s what I’d do in your shoes, Constance.”
There was no food in the twoser, and she had missed breakfast at the dine-all attached to the unit. She’d have to go to an eat-easy. Constance didn’t want to pass the Silenced, but there was no way to avoid them. She washed, dressed, attached her skin, and stepped outside, past a leaning pyramid of flowers. They were multiplying, too. Conversation among the Silenced ceased. She lowered her head and advanced towards them, through air with the consistency of yoghurt.
The questions began again.
“Did she have a favourite scent?”
“Is it true she read poetry?”
“Had she chosen a name for her child?”
Blocked by a tall woman, Constance stopped. “Why are you here?” she asked.
The woman put her hand on Constance’s shoulder. “We’re here because we love her, sister. We’re ready to do whatever she’d want.”
Constance shook her off and pushed past, perspiration making her neck itch. Already, she was longing to be indoors to remove her skin. They followed her to the courtyard perimeter, and stopped. She hardly dared to believe they wouldn’t pursue her, but nobody went as far as the eat-easy. At least she could breakfast in peace. They’d have been within their rights to sit at the next table and continue peppering her with questions. The Silenced must want to stay by the twoser. Perhaps they fancied themselves closer to Silence there. We love her, the tall sister had said. Constance gave a loud sniff. How could they love Silence when they had never met her?
From her seat in the easy, watching the cloud banks swim apart and reform above the river, Constance considered love. Once, she’d have said she loved Silence. But the clamour that Harper raised in her – now that was love. It was inconvenient. A love without hope. But there it was. Love couldn’t be corralled or directed or suffocated. It blossomed in spite of everything. What an astonishing, liberating, intoxicating moe it was.
Even when she knew it was a transgressive love.
She had reacted to losing Silence with puzzlement, regret and something chiming with loss. But losing Harper was a physical pain. Was it possible there were sisters who felt the same about men, and hid it, as she was obliged to do?
A few more days, to know him better – she’d have liked that. Imagine being with him in his forest. Trees as far as the eye could see, with Harper as their caretaker. Nobody truly owned them, he said. No matter how many decrees the Nine issued about forest maintenance.
His descriptions filled her mind. The tame warbler with white eye-rings and a bobbing tail, which snatched crumbs from his hand. The family of foxes he watched at night, emerging from their lairs to forage. The baby fawn he’d chanced across, dappled coat camouflaging it from predators – the doe had left it behind while she hunted for food. Cool air scented by nature, not artifice – air which didn’t claw at the throat, or clog the nostrils.
Constance shook her head to clear it. Ten hours, they had spent together. Ten hours to last a lifetime.
She left the eat-easy and dawdled back to her twoser. Once inside the courtyard, she had to pick up her pace to run the gauntlet of the Silenced, now swollen to fourteen. The stack of red flowers by the door was waist-high.
One of the Silenced tailed her to the door. “Is it true Silence chose the Hope Bridge for a reason?”
“I don’t know why she did it there. I don’t know anything. Please go away.”
“It’s the hig
hest bridge in Harmony. She wanted to be seen. That’s why she jumped from it. She did it for us – to tell us something.”
“What was she telling you?”
The woman whispered, “Some of us have doubts about Sisterland. But nobody dares to speak them. We were alone with our fears. Till Silence brought us together. Her doubt allows us to doubt.”
Constance hurried indoors. But the woman’s words pursued her. She felt herself pulled to the window to see what the Silenced were doing. A young woman wearing a flimsy strip of red was approaching the entrance with a bunch of tulips, a serrated strain. She laid them on top of the pile and stood with her head bowed.
On impulse, Constance went along the corridor to the communal door.
“I’ll take those inside, if you like,” she said. “I can put them in water. For Silence.”
For a moment, the girl was too tongue-tied to respond. Then the words came galloping. “Yes, please. I pray to her. To Silence. Instead of Beloved.”
Constance looked at the tulips. Already, their heads were open and they were starting to bend at the waist. They wouldn’t last. Even so, their scent filled her nostrils. Gently, she said, “She can’t answer your prayers, sister. She was only a woman.”
“Silence?”
Constance was about to agree. But a shocking thought fountained through her mind, causing her to drop the flowers.
Not only Silence, but Beloved. Both just women.
It was the seventh day after mating and time for Constance to be tested for babyfusion. It could be detected at this stage, and Sisterland needed to know immediately so that precautions could be attempted against babydefusion.
Constance keyed into her comtel for instructions, and read that she was expected at a clinic close to the Tower. No appointment necessary. She might as well go straight over. Babyfusion was unlikely, after a single mating, but the test was mandatory.
She thought about lobbing some information at the Silenced as she passed by. “She never ate breakfast.” Or “Pale blue was her favourite colour.” But she shouldn’t encourage them. Instead, she waved, as though they were work colleagues she hadn’t time to chat with, and kept moving. There were at least twenty outside her twoser now, never without their gauzy red scarves and egglights. Keeping vigil.
There was no need to pass the Tower to reach the clinic. But Constance did it anyway, impelled by a need to be where Harper was, even if she couldn’t see him. She fixed her attention on the door for a few moments, motivated by the same hunger with which the Silenced watched her window. Had they docked his food rations? Put him in solitary confinement? Surely Charity and her stifstat wouldn’t have been let loose on him! She willed loving thoughts through the walls, to wherever he was in the building. I’m thinking of you, Harper. Are you thinking of me? Nobody went in or out. By and by, she turned her steps towards the clinic.
There were six women ahead of her. None of them had babyfused. Each one tried to remain detached, but was clearly disappointed. When her turn came, the medico was chilly as she accepted Constance’s urine sample. But, after testing it, her demeanour became animated.
“Congratulations, Constance 500. Sisterland is proud of you. I’m gratified to report babyfusion. All being well, you’ll be a source in three months.”
Wide-eyed, Constance gasped, “Babyfused? Already? Are you sure?”
“We don’t make mistakes about babyfusion.” Seamlessly, she corrected herself. “We don’t make mistakes about anything in Sisterland. Now, here’s a pill to override the old nine-month timetable. It might leave you a little nauseous for a week. If that happens, switch to high-calorie liquids. There’s a special range for babyfused sisters, available free as soon as I send through notification. I’ll do it at once. Your new status will be registered on your sig later today.”
“But what if it doesn’t . . . I mean, what if I defuse?”
“Statistically, the odds are against you becoming a source, unfortunately. But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, you’re babyfused. Well done.”
“I only mated once,” Constance blurted out.
“Really? You must be exceptionally fertile. Lucky, too, to get a result so quickly. You ought to swallow that pill right away. It has to be taken as soon as babyfusion is confirmed. Your body needs to begin the fast-forward. You don’t want to drag round in a babyfused condition for nine months!”
While the medico stood over her, Constance chewed the fuchsia-pink pill. It tasted bitter.
“There now, you’re on the way. Your system will need eight hours to process that.” While she was speaking, the medico delved into a box, and lifted out some tubes. “There’s a little turbulence initially, while the pill adjusts your body’s rhythms, but you’ll be glad of it only lasting thirteen weeks, I promise you. Hard to believe PS women used to have forty-week gestations. What were their scientists thinking of? I could see it being kept if success rates were higher, but it just seemed to allow more time for things to go wrong.” She set the tubes in front of Constance. “From tonight, you should start taking these protein poppers twice a day. You’re going to be ravenous – the poppers will help to fill you. It’s essential you remember to take them. I always advise sources to set an alert on their comtels. Just till they get the habit. I must warn you: if you miss a couple of days, your motor skills will begin to shut down. Fast-forward babyfusion is a wonderful advance – but it can take a toll on women’s bodies.” She smiled. “Congratulations again, sister. I haven’t had a babyfusion for months – I was starting to think I was jinxed.”
“When do I move into communityplace, sister?”
The medico’s face tightened – even the skin couldn’t disguise it. “That may not be happening, sister.”
Constance was bewildered. “But don’t all babyfused women spend their first weeks in one? I thought it helped to prevent babydefusion.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss this, sister. Be patient. Information will be sent thorough to your comtel as soon as you need to know it. Rest assured, Sisterland has your best interests at heart.”
In a dream state, Constance made her way home. Still dazed, she passed through a throng of the Silenced, impervious to their clamour. Inside her twoser, she operated the blankouts on the windows, and collapsed into the pop-up. But she lay awake on it, staring at the ceiling. Loss kept reconfiguring her life. First she had lost Silence. Then Harper. And now she was carrying a child she was destined to lose. Even if she didn’t babydefuse, her child would be taken from her. After a year with her, the baby would go to girlplace.
How did Sisterlanders live with the loss? Why did nobody talk about it?
Chapter 14
Staccato pips from her comtel woke Constance. A message, coded urgent, was flashing. SM wishes to see you. SM was the Shaper Mother. Could she know about the babyfusion already? Constance had hoped to hug it to herself for a little while. But she supposed the medicos must report every successful mating. They were rare enough to attract attention – babyfusion wasn’t a secret she could be allowed to keep.
Constance splashed water on her face, and sailed out past the Silenced. Wanting to share her good luck, she called as she passed, “Silence hiccupped when she laughed. She had freckles on her hands. She liked to daydream – she said it wasn’t time wasted, but time invested.”
Waiting for a Buzz, her sig caught her attention. Pinkification had vanished – she was no longer licensed for Himtime. Instead, a dark-blue circle had been added. It represented babyfusion. Constance laid her fingertip on the new symbol, wondering what Harper was doing right then. Wishing she could share the news with him. What a persistent presence he was, even though she had to accept him as absent from her life. Still, she liked to think of Harper living under the same sky above her.
Please don’t let him be blamed for the blindfold, she thought. And if he has to be punished, let it be over now.
She boarded a Buzz, and looked at the women seated nearby. Some were with their
others. Everyone knew the other system was more sophisticated than inter-gender pairing, and relationships were on a higher plane now. Yet Harper was the one she’d choose to have sitting here beside her on the Buzz. Except, as he had reminded her in matingplace, men weren’t allowed on the Buzz.
To distract herself from anti-Sisterland thoughts, Constance looked out of the window. All about her, the city unfolded. Viewed from the Buzz that morning, it sparkled with promise. Buildings reared up like icebergs, their mirrored glass frontages shivering with pale colours. Sisterland was a place of beauty, she reminded herself.
Quick as lightning came another thought. Harper would call it a false beauty.
A few stops away from the Eternity Square station, a stitch in her side transfixed Constance, the physical pain jolting her system. Hunger pangs, but on a scale she had never experienced before. Belatedly, she realised she hadn’t taken her protein popper the night before, or this morning. She scrabbled in a pocket for the packet, pressed the seal, and an orange pill tipped into her hand. Its outer coating was powdery, yet it didn’t dissolve, and she found she couldn’t swallow it.
“Sister, you’ll never manage that without water,” said the passenger opposite. “I remember those pills – don’t miss having to take them.”
“I don’t have any.” Constance doubled up, another hunger spasm overtaking her.
The woman produced a water tube. “Have this. You can’t afford to miss those poppers. Your body isn’t your own for thirteen weeks. Babyfusion gobbles you up.”
Constance swallowed a pill. It took effect quickly and, as soon as she was able, she tapped in a twice-daily reminder on her comtel. She’d have to be vigilant about those poppers.
By the time she reached her stop, she was capable of disembarking. She rested on a bench, before joining the flow of foot traffic into Eternity Square. Yet more beauty, she thought, at the spectacle of splintering light beams from the mirrored wings above Shaperhaus. But could it truly be beauty if it was sterile? It surprised her to realise just two weeks had passed since she was last at Shaperhaus. So much had happened. Back then, she lived in the same world as Harper – but their lives hadn’t touched. Now, they were connected forever.
About Sisterland Page 12
