by Nora Olsen
“I have no interest in the Hatchery,” Salmon Jo said shrilly. “I want to work with someone who’s working on the Cretinous Male issue. I want to do research.”
Behind her, Rubric heard a few snickers. She hated when she was ashamed of Salmon Jo. She didn’t understand how, on the one hand, she could be madly in love with Salmon Jo and think she was perfect, and yet on the other hand she intermittently thought Salmon Jo was a total thicko.
“Panna Madrigal is very highly respected in her field,” Panna Lobe said gently. “I assure you, she’ll put you right to work. There are no scientists of your Jeepie Type working on the Cretinous Male issue. To be honest, I don’t think anyone is working on that issue. There’s no practical application.”
Banner and Concept were both shaking with silent laughter and typing furiously on their screens. Rubric burned with a combination of anger, disgust, and defensiveness. She didn’t know if she was more angry with those girls or with Salmon Jo.
“But my Jeepie Type tends toward pure science,” Salmon Jo insisted. “I find it really hard to believe that none of my Jeepie Similars is interested in something that fascinates me. And you said the matches with our mentors were up to us! That we would have the final decision.”
Concept was making a gagging sound. Rubric craned her neck to look over her shoulder and read the pulse that Banner had sent to Concept.
The screen read, Salmon Jo wants to hatch a Cretinous Male—so she can sleep with it!
Rubric’s ears burned. This was the most depraved remark she had ever heard in her life. And it was about her own schatzie.
“I’m sure we can work something out, Salmon Jo,” Panna Lobe said. “Of course, everything you do is completely your choice. No one forces you to do anything. But we have to talk later. There are girls who haven’t heard their matches yet while you sit here and argue with me. That’s hardly following the Golden Rule, is it?”
Salmon Jo got up and stormed out of the room. Rubric thought about following her. But in the end she decided to stay.
Chapter Four
Rubric was at her desk, drawing on her screen, when her window sash pushed up. Outside, a pale hand gripped the windowsill. She felt her heart jump, and she almost spilled a glass of water all over her screen. Salmon Jo’s other hand came next, then her head, and then she was hauling herself into the dorm room.
“Can you not pulse me first when you’re about to climb in my window?” Rubric asked. “You scared me to death.”
“Sorry,” Salmon Jo said, panting.
Rubric didn’t even bother to ask why Salmon Jo thought it was necessary to shimmy up a pipe and onto the fire escape, rather than just coming to the door of Yellow Dorm and walking in like a normal person. The truth was, Salmon Jo had too much energy. She needed lots of physical exercise every day or she started to get cranky. But she didn’t have enough esprit de corps to join a sports team. Every day, she ran around the campus a few times. Not the sedate jogging that other people did, in special running costumes. More as if she were being chased by a hungry bear. Salmon Jo ran fast but didn’t look graceful—her arms flapped in an ungainly way. On days when it was raining hard, she liked to break into the underground maintenance tunnels and do sprints.
Rubric flopped down on her feather beanbag chair. The cloth cover of the chair had just been cleaned, and now it smelled like lavender. The Cleaning Klon in Yellow Dorm knew that lavender was Rubric’s favorite scent. Salmon Jo nestled beside her, and Rubric made room for her.
Salmon Jo kissed her lips, and then kissed her ear. Her warm breath stirred on Rubric’s neck. But Rubric wasn’t in the mood for kisses. She was still too cross with Salmon Jo.
“Did you talk to Panna Lobe?” Rubric blurted out. “Salmon Jo, you were a total Hollyhock at that assembly.”
Salmon Jo shuddered.
“I talked to her,” Salmon Jo said finally. She looked down at her short-clipped fingernails as if she needed to concentrate on them.
“And?”
“I said I’d accept that mentor at the Hatchery.”
“What did she say to convince you?”
Salmon Jo shrugged.
Rubric hated when Salmon Jo clammed up like this. She kicked her foot. “Tell me something,” she insisted.
“So you know the way Hollyhock was taken away for a kidney transplant?”
“Is this relevant?”
“I don’t know. I hope not. But don’t you think she should have come back by now?”
“That’s true,” Rubric said. “It shouldn’t take that long to recover. It must have been her bad kidneys that made her act so veruckt.”
“I don’t know about that. I used to think maybe she died during the operation, and they didn’t want to tell us because we were too young to know.”
“Maybe,” Rubric said. “They’re always trying to protect us. But maybe she just went to another academy. Did Panna Lobe talk about Hollyhock?”
“No.”
Sometimes Salmon Jo could be so irritating that Rubric wanted to shake her. “Why are you asking me about her, then?”
“No reason.” Salmon Jo pressed her face into the beanbag chair.
Suddenly Rubric realized Salmon Jo was scared.
“Schatzie, tell me,” she whispered. “You can tell me anything.” She stroked Salmon Jo’s soft cheek.
Salmon Jo lifted her face from the beanbag and muttered, “I was wondering if they took Hollyhock away for treatment.”
Rubric struggled to understand. “Treatment is, like, when they lock you up and give you brain medication and electric shocks and stuff. Pannas and girls—humans—don’t get treatment. Only Klons who are veruckt. If something goes wrong and they go bad.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. That’s not what Panna Lobe said.”
Rubric started to feel scared too. “What did she say about treatment?”
“That in certain rare instances it can happen to humans too. She said it’s so shameful, they always cover up when a human has to have treatment, so people don’t really know about it. Or just no one talks about it. So I started thinking about Hollyhock and all the weird stuff she said. Maybe there was nothing wrong with her kidneys. Maybe they didn’t have any medication that could help her, and they had to take her away for treatment.”
Salmon Jo didn’t say anything for a while. Rubric wanted to prod her more, but she made herself stay quiet. If she kept badgering Salmon Jo, she would just get all belligerent.
“The good news,” Salmon Jo said finally, with a crooked smile, “is that a lot of women of my Jeepie Type become Doctors. In fact, forty percent of Doctors are my Jeepie Similars.”
“Wow!” Rubric said. It would be the most prestigious thing in the whole world if she had a Doctor for a schatzie. Doctors ran Society. “Some of the Doctors I see on edfotunement do look a bit like you. You know, if you had a lot of wrinkles. So what’s the bad news?”
“Apparently a lot of women of my Jeepie Type have a crisis during their late teens or early twenties. Panna Lobe said they never told me this before because it might mess me up. If my Jeepie Type does well, they usually become Doctors. And some aren’t chosen for careers and are just part of the happy majority. But some of the ones who don’t do very well are set to work supervising the Kapo Klons. She called it being a manager.”
Rubric gasped. The Kapo Klons had the job of bossing around the other Klons and making sure they were doing what they were supposed to do. That way, humans wouldn’t have to waste valuable time dealing directly with Klons, and humans could get on with their business of achieving personal fulfillment. But, naturally, the Kapo Klons needed to have some humans above them to check that everything was going smoothly. There were only a few Jeepie Types that this kind of career appealed to, not enough to fill all the positions. So it was the only career that humans could be compelled to do. Any other career was purely on a voluntary basis, but the Doctors could actually tell a person they had to supervise Kapo Klons. It was almos
t like a punishment.
“Not only that,” Salmon Jo said, nestling farther into the beanbag chair and pulling the neck of her tunic up around her chin, “Panna Lobe said some women of my Jeepie Type were so messed up they weren’t even allowed to supervise the Kapo Klons. Some of them had to have treatment.”
“This is all totally veruckt!” Rubric said. “I think she was just trying to scare you. I don’t believe it.”
But Rubric did believe it. She knew every Jeepie Type was different, but Salmon Jo seemed more different than anyone else. And she did all this veruckt stuff like climbing walls and breaking into tunnels. Panna Lobe had once told the class that Salmon Jo’s Jeepie Type had a predilection for breaking rules. And since Society didn’t have any rules beyond the Golden Rule, Salmon Jo had to invent rules to break.
“She did scare me,” Salmon Jo said. “Especially since no one at academy ever tells you what to do, or that you’re doing something wrong. It was like she was saying there was something wrong with me intrinsically. She said they create very few people of my Jeepie Type because of these problems.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Rubric said. “The Jeepie Types chosen were from the three hundred most intelligent, healthy, well-adjusted women. Why would the original Doctors have picked someone who could have problems?”
“Panna Lobe explained that in former times many creative and intelligent people did something called Thinking Outside The Box, which involved being unruly and difficult. So even though The Box no longer exists, this trait has persisted. And my Jeepie Type can make great Doctors. So that’s why they keep creating my Jeepie Type.”
“I guess your Jeepie Type either turns out really great or, um…”
“Exactly,” Salmon Jo said. “Or down in flames. Anyway, after she told me all this, I agreed to the mentor match she proposed.”
“It sounds like she knows what she’s talking about,” Rubric said.
Salmon Jo frowned. “I still feel kind of…I dunno, manipulated. But I don’t want to end up some loser who needs treatment. Do you still like me?”
“Of course!” Rubric said. “I’ll make that clear to you.”
Rubric kissed her. Salmon Jo’s lips were soft and warm on hers. She felt a familiar falling feeling. She could almost believe that everything was fine, or even perfect.
But then Salmon Jo broke away to say, “Panna Lobe said some women of my Jeepie Type, the ones who went bad, not only got treatment…they even got redistributed.”
Rubric felt a chill. “Humans don’t get redistributed,” she said. “They really don’t. That’s ridiculous.”
“She said it. Real fast.”
“You must have heard her wrong. Because you were upset. Maybe she said that Klons of your Jeepie Type have been redistributed. Not Pannas.”
Salmon Jo didn’t answer, but she drew even closer to Rubric. She was almost crowding Rubric off the beanbag chair. Rubric didn’t complain. She just stroked Salmon Jo’s wiry hair.
Chapter Five
On the day they met their mentors for the first time, Salmon Jo got up at dawn. She had stayed over in Rubric’s room.
“I’m going running in the city,” she told Rubric, who cracked one eye open. “Finally! I am so sick of circumnavigating the campus. Do you realize I have actually run around the campus more than a thousand times? I calculated it.”
Rubric had been hoping Salmon Jo would take the trolley with her later. Neither of them had ever been off campus without Klons and teachers before, and Rubric was a little nervous about getting around the city.
As it turned out, Rubric had no trouble figuring out the route by herself. It felt funny to walk through the wrought-iron gates of the campus, all by herself, without teachers or Nanny Klons, for the first time. She was planning to ask the Security Klon where to catch the Number 12 Trolley, but she saw a sign for it directly outside the entrance to campus. The hardest part was getting on the trolley, which slowed down but didn’t stop. The Conductor Klon showed her where to swipe her card and explained where she needed to get off in the city center.
The city unfolded before Rubric’s eyes, a mixture of the golden spires of yesteryear and the more recent spherical buildings. Rubric watched the street scene with interest: the pedestrians, the Dog Walking Klons, the bicyclists who weaved skillfully between the trolleys, the Pedicab Klons who peddled furiously to pull their passengers up the hills. She pictured Salmon Jo running wildly through these crowded streets. The trolley passed the Singing Fountain, which Rubric had visited during several annual trips. It was a beautiful day, and the sunshine made the peak of Mount Sileza sparkle in the distance. Last year her dorm had gone to Mount Sileza for its annual trip. She wondered if she and Salmon Jo could go there for a romantic hike, since Salmon Jo liked the outdoors so much. Rubric’s nervousness changed to exhilaration at traveling by herself in the city for the first time.
Panna Stencil Pavlina’s apartment building was just a few blocks from where Rubric got off the trolley. It was about ten stories high and looked new. Golden dogs guarded the atrium of the building. Rubric wondered if the gold in their fur made them short-lived, like some fancy breeds of dogs. She had read about people who had to change their dogs every few weeks because they didn’t live longer. Some people really loved breeding dogs and found personal fulfillment in that. Rubric didn’t think she would enjoy it. She would much rather be an artist, like Panna Stencil Pavlina.
Rubric rang Panna Stencil Pavlina’s doorbell. A Serving Klon in a dark tunic with Gerda embroidered on the chest answered the door. Gerda led Rubric into the living room and took her cloak. Rubric liked the tastefully appointed living room. It was nice to be in such an opulent setting after the plain campus. Another Gerda, this one wearing a yellow tunic, came in with a tray of apples, carrots, and celery and a glass of lemonade. The lemonade had ice cubes in the shape of swans. Rubric munched the celery and apples. She didn’t like carrots. She supposed that liking carrots must not be a genetic trait. Or maybe they were an acquired taste.
It was hard for her to sit still and wait. Her heart was pounding with anticipation, as if she were running a race instead of sitting on an ottoman.
A beaded curtain swished open, and Panna Stencil Pavlina strode into the room. Rubric caught her breath at how beautiful she was. Perhaps she could be that beautiful someday! Panna Stencil Pavlina was only about two inches taller, but she wore her long hair dyed black and piled on her head in coils. Her eyes were warm.
“I’m so glad to meet you, my dear,” Panna Stencil Pavlina said and leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
“It’s a real honor, Panna Stencil Pavlina,” Rubric said. She couldn’t believe she was meeting her Jeepie Similar for the very first time.
Panna Stencil Pavlina smiled. “Drop the Panna,” she said. “You can just call me Stencil Pavlina.”
“Great,” Rubric said.
“Did you bring your portfolio? I’d love to see it.”
“Oh, I don’t have a portfolio.” Why didn’t she have one? She should have realized that’s what real artists did.
Stencil Pavlina looked disappointed, but she said, “Don’t fret, my dear. We can just skip the chitchat, and I’ll show you my art right away. Let’s not waste any time. Come with me.”
They walked through the spacious apartment. As they passed the kitchen, Rubric spied one Gerda, the one in the yellow tunic, cooking something that smelled divine. The other Gerda was plumping up pillows in the bedroom. Previously, Rubric had thought it was affected to have a set of identical Serving Klons, but now she decided to keep an open mind.
The last and largest room was Stencil Pavlina’s studio. It was bright and airy, and the ceiling was covered with sculptures of birds. Some were beautiful birds and some were scary birds of prey. They were made of some brown, translucent material that must have been lightweight, since they were hanging from the ceiling. Rubric thought it might be some kind of resin. She couldn’t believe the technical skill Stencil Pavlin
a must have to produce such detailed and realistic plumage. She had to admit she was feeling a touch of celebrity awe.
Gradually, she became aware of the other art in the room and stopped staring at the ceiling. A lot of it was incredibly creepy and sad. Anguished faces, too-realistic hearts covered with boils and scars. The most striking thing, in the center of the room, was a large sculpture of a slaughtered unicorn, its mangled limbs and entrails souping onto the floor. She wasn’t sure what material the unicorn was made of.
“Wow,” Rubric managed to say. Stencil Pavlina’s early art—what Rubric had seen before—had been so lighthearted. What had happened to her? Whenever Rubric had pictured meeting her mentor for the first time, she had imagined they would chatter happily together and they would understand each other perfectly. She had never envisioned being intimidated and puzzled by her mentor. Or being completely tongue-tied.
“Is this all recent work?” she asked.
“I haven’t really been working on anything lately. The muse has not called on me.” She gestured to the slaughtered unicorn. “So what are you experiencing when you look at this piece?”
“I don’t know,” Rubric said. She felt thicko. “I don’t know what it’s about.”
“Go on, take a stab,” Stencil Pavlina encouraged. “There’s no right or wrong. I’m just curious what you get out of it.”
“Um, I guess a unicorn is a symbol of happiness and girlish innocence,” Rubric hazarded. “But a unicorn is an extinct animal.”
“Mythical, actually,” Stencil Pavlina said. “They were never real.”
“Oh.” Rubric felt even more thicko.
“Please, keep going!”
“Since the unicorn has been killed, I guess that means…um, whatever it is, it’s not good.”
“That’s wonderful,” Stencil Pavlina enthused. “You’ve really hit the nail on the head. The dead unicorn is my metaphor for the emptiness, betrayal, and ultimate sterility of art.”
“That’s pretty chilling,” Rubric said slowly. “For me, art is an unending fountain of happiness and inspiration. I don’t see how it could cease to be the greatest delight of my life.”
