by Naomi Foyle
‘Well,’ Hokma said, ‘for a few reasons. Originally there was a big CONC station here and the Gaians who worked with the internationals wore robes out of politeness. There’s still a CONC travel office, and a lot of visitors, so the habit stuck, I suppose. But also, urban dwellers aren’t lucky like us in the dry forest, or people in rural communities: there are so many buildings and roads here and they can’t plant enough trees to shade everyone, and the Code for melanoma protection only works up to a point. The lighter-skinned people especially need to cover up.’
In the front seat, the taxi driver laughed. ‘There’s another reason too, but only the locals know it, Is-child. The streets are very dusty and there aren’t enough trees to stop the wind, so the grit flies right up into your Gaia parts. Don’t you worry, though, we all go sky-clad at home.’
‘Does Dr Blesserson go—?’ Astra started to ask.
But Hokma wasn’t listening. ‘In a minute, Astra. Driver, take the outer-wall road please.’
‘That’s the long route, lady – and there’s an extra charge for punctures.’
‘I know that. Just take it, please. Astra, be quiet now. I want you to see this.’
Then the taxi was exiting the wall through another massive archway, this one topped with two stone lions, and she was looking down upon a terrifying view: in the near distance an immense crater – bigger than Or, surely – obliterated the land. Its lip was a rim of rubble, its base a cracked dish of bleached soil and it was surrounded by acres of debris: broken sandstone, crumbled tarmac, ancient rusting cookers and refrigerators, twisted metal posts and what looked like fallen logs with nails sticking out of them, all tangled up in wires. Speechless, Astra gaped at the sight.
The taxi turned right, skirting the ruined area and driving slowly along the foot of the wall. People were dragging things out of the pile of unre-cycled metal and it was easy to see that nails and sharp scraps could be falling in the road.
‘Sippur was bombed at the start of the Dark Time,’ Hokma said in her teacher voice. ‘We still don’t know which of our neighbouring nations was responsible, or why they chose a residential area instead of the old city. Incredibly, the basalt wall withstood the shock, but the radiation fallout was severe. That’s when the last of the Non-Landers fled.’
‘All of this was houses?’ Astra asked incredulously.
The taxi driver looked at her in the rear-view mirror. ‘Don’t you worry about the Non-Landers,’ he chuckled. ‘Plenty of homes for Non-Landers in Asfar, where they belong.’
He’d misunderstood her question. She’d meant, how could buildings cover so much of Gaia’s face? Surely there had also been trees and grass and parks here? Had not one tree regenerated?
She opened her mouth to correct him, but Hokma butted in. ‘She knows all about the Non-Landers.’
The driver sniffed. ‘Course she does. I was just saying.’
Astra lifted Tabby to the window, but Hokma’s hand shot out to her wrist. ‘No photos here, Astra.’
‘Why?’
‘There are plenty of photos online, and we’re nearly there now.’ It wasn’t an answer but Hokma suddenly sounded as stern as the bus stop IMBOD officer. They finished the ride in silence, leaving the pulverised moonscape and entering another green, leafy neighbourhood with all of Astra’s questions rattling behind them.
* * *
At last the taxi drove away, leaving them standing at Dr Blesserson’s gate, through which Astra could see a two-storey white wooden house and a long stone outbuilding. ‘How do you know Dr Blesserson will help us?’ she asked.
Hokma rang the bell on the gatepost. ‘I don’t,’ she replied shortly. ‘But he owes me a favour and I’m hoping he’d like to pay me back.’
‘What favour did you do for him?’
‘Shh, Astra. It’s not important. Please just be quiet here and do exactly as I say.’
‘Hello?’ A male voice crackled through the intercom.
‘Samrod. It’s Hokma.’
‘But—’ Astra tugged at Hokma’s waistcoat.
‘Shhhh,’ Hokma hissed.
There was no reply from the intercom, but the gate swung open. Astra trudged resentfully after Hokma up the long white-pebbled drive. It was fine to say ‘do as I say’, but only if you had actually given a constable some instructions. They were on a mission and she’d had no orders. It wouldn’t be her fault if everything went wrong.
* * *
As she plodded up the drive behind Hokma, Dr Samrod Blesserson emerged from his house. He was wearing a sky-blue linen shirt and white drawstring trousers, and he didn’t come out to meet them but waited in the shade on the front porch until they neared the house. Then he jogged quickly down the steps to greet them. Or Hokma, at least. He ignored Astra, and though he kissed both Hokma’s cheeks, he didn’t smile or seem remotely pleased to see his Birth-Code-Shelter sister. Squinting up at him, Astra couldn’t tell if he was a nice man or not. He was tall like Hokma, and had the same dark wavy hair, square face and full lips as her, but rather more forehead. As well as clothes, he was wearing wire-framed glasses, a watch and an impatient expression.
‘I keep the shots in the clinic,’ he said, jutting his chin towards the outbuilding. That made him look exactly like Hokma.
‘Actually, Samrod, Astra’s frightened of needles. I told her we could see the orchard first, if it’s not too much bother.’ Hokma placed her hand on Astra’s neck and gave a warning squeeze. She hadn’t even known there was an orchard.
Samrod looked at his watch and then down at Astra, for the first time. At first she thought he was annoyed with her. Then he gave a tight little smile. ‘So, an arboriculturalist, are we?’ he asked.
She cocked her head back up at him. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Someone who studies trees. I’d have thought you’d have learned that already in a dry forest school.’
Beneath her tunic her chest got a little hot, but she tried not to hate him, not just yet. He didn’t know yet that she was going to be a genius scientist too.
‘I like climbing trees,’ she said, jutting out her chin too. ‘Especially apple trees. Do you have any of those?’
‘I do. A prize-winning Pink Lady, in fact. And I don’t want her branches broken. Look, Hokma, this is short notice and I don’t have much time. You can show her the orchard afterwards.’
But Hokma was tugging Astra down the path between the house and the outbuilding. ‘Trust me, Samrod,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘you don’t want her climbing your clinic walls.’
Her brother strode rapidly after them. Hokma waited at the orchard gate. It was a small orchard, surrounded by a low stone wall, with twenty or so trees, mostly cherries or plums, all in blossom.
‘I’m serious, Hokma. I don’t want her monkeying about in the trees.’ Samrod definitely sounded annoyed now. ‘They’re all very young still.’
‘She won’t do any climbing, I promise. Samrod, I need to talk to you. Can we sit down?’
‘Why couldn’t you Tablette-talk me? Or send an Owleon? So mysterious, Hokma.’
‘Please, Samrod. It will only take ten minutes.’
He stared at her, then opened the gate and gestured to a wooden bench between two magenta-blossomed cherry trees.
Astra followed at a distance as they crossed the grass towards it. Samrod didn’t seem to like Hokma very much. This was why Is-kids now all had to be brought up by least three people, she remembered. Previously, siblings often didn’t get along because they had to compete for the scarce resources of only one or two parents.
Hokma sat down on the bench. ‘Astra, you go and play while I talk to Samrod,’ she said. ‘You can run around in the orchard, but keep Tabby turned off and no climbing.’
What? Why were there all these rules about Tabby today? ‘Why can’t I take photos?’
‘Astra. What did I tell you just now? Just do as I say.’
It wasn’t fair. Why was she being shouted at when Dr Blesserson was the one being
rude and mean? Astra dawdled further among the trees as Samrod arranged himself at the opposite end of the bench. She was behind them now and they couldn’t see her. But sure enough, Hokma looked over her shoulder and stared at her so she slumped down under what she hoped was the famous Pink Lady apple tree and just to look busy took a Knitting Nancy out of her pac.
Hokma turned back to Samrod. He was leaning against the armrest of the bench with his arms crossed. He didn’t look as though he would offer his sister a cup of echinacea tea, let alone agree to break the law for her.
There was a rhododendron bush a few feet behind the bench. Astra slipped the Knitting Nancy back into her pac and got up. Quietly, she moved first away from the bench, then, in a wide circle, from tree to tree, back towards it, pausing and watching to make sure that she hadn’t been heard. At last she was crouching behind the bush, peering at the adults through the leaves. They were speaking very quickly, their voices overlapping, and Samrod was leaning towards his sister now, his hand gripping the back of the bench.
‘You don’t believe in it any more than I do!’ Hokma said loudly, throwing her hands up in the air so that one of them nearly caught her brother on the chin.
‘What? And keep your voice down!’ Samrod hissed, looking around him. There were houses either side of the wall, but unless they were hiding like Astra, none of his neighbours were out in their gardens.
‘That’s why you left GeneIsis, isn’t it?’ his sister pressed. ‘Because you can see how dangerous it is for us all.’
‘No, Hokma: I left the GeneIsis project because I had contributed all that I could and there were other demands on my time. If you think I am now going to sabotage the work of my colleagues and jeopardise the security of my country, you are very much mistaken.’ Samrod brushed a drift of cherry petals off the lap of his white trousers.
When Hokma spoke again, it was in a low voice so that Astra had to strain to hear her. ‘I lost my eye, Samrod. I don’t complain. I can see many things far more clearly now than I ever could before. But still I’m just one accident or defect away from total blindness.’
‘I knew it. I knew one day you’d come here and blame me for—’
Hokma raised her voice. ‘I’ve never regretted what I did. It was worth it to see you happy. All I’m asking is that you do one small thing for me in return. No one will ever know. And I’ll never ask anything of you again.’
Samrod had clearly forgotten that his neighbours might be listening. ‘I’m sorry about your frigging eye, Hokma,’ he shouted. ‘I always have been! But the point is, I never asked you to jump in front of that bullet. I wasn’t even there.’
‘The point, Samrod,’ Hokma raised her voice again, ‘is that you didn’t have to ask me to do it. I did it for you instinctively, because I’m your sister. And now I’m asking you to do something for me, not just because you know it’s the right thing to do, but because you’re my brother.’
‘Hokma the Hero,’ Samrod spat. ‘Hokma the Visionary. Won’t get a prosthetic – no, you wear that designer patch like a medal, so no one will ever forget that courage runs like molten gold in your veins. Well, not everyone lives for risk and glory and obscure political vendettas, Hokma. What you’re asking could land me in a traitor’s well. I should report you for even suggesting it.’
Samrod was trembling now, but Hokma didn’t flinch. Calmly she replied, ‘He was a shit officer, Samrod. He thought about himself first, himself second, and the team third. But I knew how you felt about him and I couldn’t let some barefoot kid shoot him dead.’
To Astra’s astonishment, Samrod’s shoulders started heaving and he buried his face in his hands. Was Dr Blesserson crying? Hokma leaned over and touched his sleeve, but he brushed her hand away.
‘He wasn’t worth an eyelash,’ he choked.
‘He loved you in the end,’ Hokma said. ‘And he gave you all this—’ She gestured at the house and the clinic, and round the orchard.
Samrod groaned. ‘I don’t want to talk about him.’
‘We don’t have to talk about him. Let’s talk about what we believe in. What Mama and Baba and Paloma would have wanted us to do—’
‘I don’t want to talk about Paloma either! Or our parents. They’re dead, Hokma, and the world is moving on without them. It’s evolving, all right? The world is consciously, collectively, evolving towards a better future and there is nothing you nor I can do about that except evolve with it too.’
Hokma stared out again over the field in front of the orchard. ‘He changed you,’ she said quietly. ‘I thought I’d get you back after he left, but I still don’t know where you went.’
Her brother stiffened. ‘I am right here. Precisely right here, in my orchard, beside my house and clinic, all of which mean a great deal to me, Hokma, as I am sure your work does to you too.’ Dr Blesserson had brought himself back under control, Astra realised. Shouting about his dead family seemed to have calmed him down. ‘Quite frankly,’ he continued, ‘why you would want to ruin a young girl’s life is beyond me. Personally, I think it’s despicable of you to embark on this course of action without the consent of her other parents.’
‘She’s my only Shelter daughter,’ Hokma said quietly, ‘and you’re my one hope to help her. Please, Samrod. No one will ever find out – and if they do, I’ll tell them I gave her an antidote. I know there is one.’
There was a long pause. Samrod took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, then put them back on his nose.
‘Hokma,’ he said at last, ‘I’m sick of the sight of you. If I do help you, that’s it. We’re not just even, we’re through. I don’t want to advise on any more of your IMBOD projects, I don’t want you coming round here to psychoanalyse me or browbeat me about Paloma, and I don’t want any updates on your little experiment. You will take her back to your off-grid human safari and leave me alone. Forever. Understood?’
Astra narrowed her eyes. I’m not Hokma’s ‘little experiment’, she wanted to shout. I’m Hokma’s Shelter daughter. And that, Dr Blesserson, makes me your Shelter niece! And Hokma’s not going to ruin my life. One day I’m going to be a genius, a bigger genius than you! That’s why you want me to have my shot, isn’t it? So I won’t be more famous than you. Tell him, Hokma, tell him that’s why we’re doing it and not telling Nimma and Klor!
But Hokma just nodded. Once. ‘Understood. Thank you, Samrod.’
The adults stood up and turned to look across the orchard. ‘Astra!’ Hokma yelled.
Astra’s heart began to pound, and she squirmed deeper into the bush.
‘If she’s damaged any of those trees, I’ll be sending you the bill,’ Samrod warned.
‘She’s just playing somewhere. I’ll find her. We’ll see you at the clinic.’ Hokma walked deeper into the orchard and Samrod strode back to the gate.
Astra waited until he was through it before emerging from the bush. Hokma was at the far end of the orchard now, she could see, so she ran down the wall to the opposite corner. Then she shouted, ‘Here I am!’ and skipped towards her Shelter mother.
‘Where were you?’ Hokma inspected her. ‘Did you climb a tree?’
‘No! I was hiding.’ Astra pointed at the long grass along the wall. ‘I had to patrol the perimeter.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie. She had done both of those things, and she hadn’t climbed a tree. Lying was easy if you just told the truth but left some bits out.
‘Good girl, Astra. There’d better not be any broken branches, that’s all. Now look: he’s agreed to help us but he’s not very happy about it, so you must be very polite, and thank him nicely, okay?’
Astra remembered to look surprised. ‘He’s going to help us? Yay.’ She hugged Hokma, who laughed.
‘Yes, it’s good news, isn’t it? Come on, he’s waiting at the clinic.’
* * *
Dr Blesserson vaccinated Astra against a nearly extinct disease called ‘teaby’, so that she would have a scar on her shoulder, just like the other Or-kids. He was grumpy, and apa
rt from telling her to roll up her sleeve, didn’t speak to her – he didn’t even warn her nicely that the needle would hurt, and he didn’t have any kids’ plasters with frogs or lollipops on them. Instead he stuck a round blue grown-up plaster on her arm. Then he gave Hokma a chill bag and a needle full of Security Serum. If she kept the shot in the freezer, he explained, it would last for ten years. If IMBOD ever planned to test Astra, as long as they had a little notice Hokma could give her the dose. The older she was the less effect it would have; the critical period of skills-levelling was between now and the age of twelve. But at least the Serum would be in her bloodstream.
A muscle in Dr Blesserson’s jaw was twitching, Astra noticed, and it kept pulsing as he powered on his screendesk, logged into the IMBOD Security Serum database and ticked a box by Astra Ordott’s name. He added a note on her file that he had personally given her the shot, then he esigned her certificate and emailed it to Astra’s school.
‘Thank you, Samrod,’ Hokma said, holding the chill bag on her lap. ‘Astra, if you’re ever tested and I can’t give you this shot before hand, we’re going to say that I gave you an antidote. So no judge is ever going to question that certificate, Samrod.’
Samrod closed the email tab. ‘I don’t want to talk about judges. I want to forget this meeting ever happened.’
Hokma stood up. ‘It will be fine, Samrod. No one’s ever going to know.’ She put her hand on Astra’s back and pushed her forward.
‘Thank you, Dr Blesserson,’ Astra said. ‘And my teacher says thank you too.’
Dr Blesserson practically flew out of his chair. ‘Her teacher’s in on this too?’ He lunged at his sister, his arms flapping up again like they had in the orchard. ‘Do you really want to get me arrested, Hokma? Is that what this is about? Vengeance for your eye? I wasn’t there, Hokma. I wasn’t even there.’
His own eyes were bulging like frogspawn, his face had reddened and flecks of his spit landed on Astra cheeks – one on her lip – but she was too frightened to wipe them away.
‘No, no!’ Hokma pulled Astra close. ‘Samrod, no – you mean Ms Raintree, don’t you, Astra? Samrod, I told the teacher you would give Astra her shot and she was thrilled. She said that your PTSS treatment had helped her immensely after her spinal cord injury in the Belt. She got quite emotional about it. Of course I didn’t tell her anything about today.’
