by Naomi Foyle
‘Because they’re bigger than us?’ Leaf ventured. ‘They might hurt us without meaning to?’
‘Yes, Leaf. Exactly. You might get physically hurt by the size and strength of an older person’s body, but an older person is stronger emotionally as well; they know more about themselves and about the world. They are more likely to want to form a Gaia bond, but it would be very wrong for them to do so with a child. It would be like pitting someone who had just learned how to play chess against a Grandmaster. They might let you win a few games to be nice, but ultimately, they would be in control of your emotions during a time when you should be having fun.’
Fun? Chewing her dread, Astra made the note. Gaia play didn’t look very much like fun any more. All in all, the rules were extremely serious, and it was clear that some of them would affect her far more than the Sec Gens. She would have to talk to Hokma about them, maybe when Lil was around so that she could learn the rules too. Though Lil wouldn’t think school rules applied to her – she would probably have some outlandish argument against each one, arguments that no one could ever think of in a million years. Then they might fight, and who knows, maybe end up insulting one another.
‘Don’t panic!’ Tedis whispered. ‘There isn’t a physical exam.’ Her face flaring, she folded up her Tablette and stuffed it back in her hydropac. Tedis probably thought she was a study-bee, like Sultana. Well, let him. She didn’t care.
‘Well done, folks,’ Mr Ripenson said. ‘You’ve all worked hard today, dealing with some complicated concepts and questions. Shall we finish with a Murmuration Swim?’
He stood up and stretched, his own Gaia plough a soft, thick vine drooping over its seed pouches. Everyone cheered and jumped up for the Starling game: running together through the practise lawn to the school brook, arms outstretched, swooping and leaping and swerving, always keeping half a metre between your fingertips and those of the other players. As they tumbled out of the orchard, Yoki and Acorn running together, Sultana squealing with delight beside her, Astra kept Tedis in sight. He wasn’t allowed to run the fastest in the game, but he always tried to steer – she could tell – and she liked to be next to him and steer too, to make him follow her direction as often as she followed his. In the hubbub of positioning, Tedis brushed against her, surprising her hip with the warmth of his thigh, holding it near hers a second longer than necessary. A flush of heat charged her nerves. You weren’t allowed to touch each other in the game. As she stared after his retreating back, he turned and winked.
She was rooted to the spot. Tedis had never winked at her before. Was he trying to distract her from the game? But Mr Ripenson was clapping and she had to stop thinking and start moving. As always, once the Murmuration game got underway, you soon lost track of who was playing incorrectly or trying to cheat. The sun gilding her skin, her feet pounding over the lawn, Astra relinquished her desire to be fastest or best, to make Tedis follow her, even to reach the brook; her fear, envy and anger melted away and she felt briefly, helplessly, one of the Sec Gens, forever enveloped in a magical, ever-flowing wave of love and togetherness. Why couldn’t Gaia play be like this, Astra wondered as she splashed, finally, with Tedis and Silvie and Sultana and Acorn and Yoki, into the warm water: not riddled with questions and rules, but exhilarating, soothing, refreshing and unanswerably whole.
2.7
After school the Or-kids lined up behind the marquee that had been erected in front of Core House. There were rows of chairs inside for the adults, facing a trestle table covered with Nimma’s best embroidered linen cloth, where the three IMBOD officers would sit and deliver their report. Ahn and Nimma would sit with them, representing Code House and Craft House and jointly, Core House. Behind the table was a tall rail where all the Owleons would perch: Helium, Silver, the two IMBOD trainees and the three Code House birds. The children would enter from the back and process down the centre aisle reciting their hymns; then they’d gracefully turn and form a semicircle in front of the trestle table and sit down on the grass. They needed to perform perfectly because the procession was being filmed: Ahn would be operating the Kezcams, one stationary throughout, suspended behind the lead IMBOD officer, and two moving above the procession, and later, as the Inspection Report was read, the audience.
Astra had been seven at the last Inspection Report Ceremony and she vaguely remembered it had been long and boring, but Or had done very well, and Ahn especially had been praised for his consultancy work for two Bioregional Councils, the dry forest and the Steppes. She’d wondered why Hokma didn’t get to sit at the long table, representing Wise House, but Hokma had said the birds were her representatives and anyway, Wise House was an office of Code House. There had been lots of clapping, Astra remembered, and afterwards the banquet had been amazing, even better than the Winter Solstice feast because more vegetables were in season. They’d had her absolute favourite, rostis, which Moon didn’t put on the menu very often because peeling and grating enough potatoes for everyone took a long time. The menu for today was a secret, but Astra and Meem were both hoping rostis would feature again.
The procession was beautiful. There were fifty-eight Or-kids over the age of three now, and they entered in pairs, the little ones first, holding flowers and singing the simplest hymn: ‘Gaia, We Love You’. The older children followed, all the way up to the seventeen-year-olds, chanting ‘Like a Hawk She Watches Us’. Astra walked in beside Yoki, head high. Nimma had been kind for once and had patted a little tinted herbal cream on her cheek, hiding the red swelling. The cream smelled of calendula and witch hazel and had a drying, tightening effect on the pimple. In general, she felt good. The buoyant effect of the Murmuration Swim had lasted and now the chanting had begun she was swept up in the momentous sense of occasion here at Or.
Over the last two months everyone had had shorter showers than usual so that the rain tanks could be used to water the grass on the lawn; now the blades were long and lush beneath Astra’s feet. The sun was bright, and passing into the marquee was like entering a glowing lantern or a shadow theatre, the seven birds perched darkly at the opposite end of the tent like cut-out silhouettes. She raised her voice:
Like a hawk She watches us
Scurry to and fro
It matters not who we are
Or what we think we know
Some of the adults turned in their chairs to admire them, but the children weren’t supposed to smile or wave. They had to keep their heads high and eyes forward and walk in time with the recitation. Astra kept her vision fixed on the Owleons: Helium in the middle of the rail, the larger Code House birds on either side of him, then Silver to the left and the small trainees on either end. Silver was watching her; she had to do him proud.
If we forget to worship Her
She’ll swoop down from the sky
Rip us from Her feathered nest
And cast us out to die
She was nearing the table now. The three IMBOD officers occupied the centre, flanked by Nimma and Ahn. The officer beside Ahn was a thin, pale, blonde woman, and the one beside Nimma was a broad-shouldered, coffee-coloured man. The man in the centre was taller than his colleagues, olive-skinned with a hairy chest. He had a high forehead and was wearing rectangular rimless glasses. He looked familiar. As Astra reached the front of the aisle she realised why.
* * *
Sometimes Astra and the other Or-kids played a game in the kitchen with the walk-in freezer, opening it to let a blast of ice vapour sear their skin. Right now, Dr Samrod Blesserson could have been that open freezer door. For a second, every muscle in her body stiffened and her flesh felt as though it was shrivelling on her bones. Miraculously, the moment passed; she realised her legs were somehow still pacing forward to the rhythm of the chant, but inside her thoughts were chattering like her teeth had done the day Torrent had dared her to stand inside the freezer for as long as she could. Dr Blesserson had said he didn’t want to have anything to do with Or any more. Why was he here? Where was Hokma?
S
he and Yoki reached the head of the aisle; in front of her, Meem turned left. Above Dr Blesserson the Kezcam was recording the procession. She drew herself up, focused on a point a short distance ahead and chanted as loudly as possible. She wasn’t sure, but possibly Dr Blesserson’s gaze clicked on her. Then she was following Meem into the grassy space in front of the table. From the corner of her eye she could see Hokma in the second row of chairs. Beside her was Lil.
Hokma nodded at her. Then she was out of sight, unless Astra turned her head, and she wasn’t allowed to do that. She joined Meem, standing with her back to the adults and Lil and facing the table: fortunately not directly in front of Dr Blesserson. It was agonising, not being able to turn and see Hokma – but she had smiled. Did that mean everything was okay? And why was Lil here? Was she coming to the banquet too? No one ever told her frigging anything.
The female officer was practically ogling her and Meem, head tilted as if to say ‘what adorable children’. Beside her, Ahn was unobtrusively swiping his Tablette, his hair a springy puffball in the yellowish glow of the marquee. Above him, Silver was preening, using his beak to rehook the barbules on a flight feather, realigning it into a perfectly smooth surface. If she clicked her tongue he would look at her, but she was on no account allowed to do that, and nor did she want to attract Dr Blesserson’s attention. Torrent and Stream processed in front of the table, the last strains of the hymn died away and as applause filled the tent, the Or-kids, as one, bowed to the table. Then, still as one, they turned and acknowledged the Or-adults. Completing the circle, they faced front again and sat down on the grass.
At the table, Nimma leaned into her microphone. ‘Thank you, Or-kids,’ she proclaimed, ‘for that stirring welcome to our distinguished guests. I’m honoured to introduce our IMBOD panel, who have worked so hard with us over the last six months, combing through our records and inspecting every last inch of Or. We’re so looking forward to their response, and learning from experts how to improve all of the work we do here. I am especially pleased to welcome IMBOD Chief Inspector Dr Samrod Blesserson. We are all grateful for Dr Blesserson’s profound work on psychological recovery from IMBOD Service. Not everyone may yet know of his current return to the GeneIsis project, developing new National Service training methods for the Sec Gens, for which he has – very reluctantly, he tells me – taken up the honour and responsibility of a full IMBOD officership. Community inspection isn’t his normal field of duties, but as many of you know, our original lead officer had to step down due to illness, so we are deeply grateful to Dr Blesserson for taking time out of his invaluable research to step in at the last moment to deliver our Report.’
Dr Blesserson – Chief Inspector Blesserson – leaned forward into his microphone. ‘Thank you, Nimma, for the gracious welcome,’ he said. Astra could see his IMBOD boots and bare calves under the table: he wasn’t wearing long trousers today. ‘First, please let me assure you all that this Inspection has given me invaluable insights into Sec Gen behavioural patterns that will contribute greatly to my own ongoing research. But we all know that the health of our own careers depends on the health of our nation, and it was my honour to be asked to help monitor and nurture the overall performance of one of the bioregion’s top-performing communities. Let me introduce my esteemed colleagues, who after all have done all the work on this report!’
People laughed and the other officers smiled, acknowledging the compliment. Behind them, Helium, as if alarmed, raised his wings. Dr Blesserson introduced his fellow officers, reeling off lists of their accomplishments, and the marquee fell quiet again.
Beside Astra, Meem’s breath had slowed. She was probably meditating, as Modem, with a wink, had suggested they do during the reading of the report. The best thing to do, Astra decided, was to concentrate on her own breath and keep watching Silver. If she never caught Dr Blesserson’s eye the whole ceremony could pass without any trouble. He might not even recognise her, after all. She must look very different now she was nearly thirteen.
The other two officers were Inspectors, a rank below Dr Blesserson, but clearly experienced community investigators. The woman gave her report on Code House, talking about each team and praising their biggest commercial successes, including the gro-light sensitive fruit trees for north-facing balconies. These, she said, had made a significant contribution to Or’s financial stability. She named the top members of the urbag team, including Sorrel, who all stood up to be applauded. She also named Klor, for his work on the Visitor team. Or, she said, was fast becoming a must-see spot on a national tour, extending the average length of Is-Land visits by 1.63 days and bringing valuable tourist revenues to the bioregion. Klor stood up to receive his accolades and Meem and Astra both turned and craned to see him. On the other side of the aisle, he rose above the sea of bodies, his face creased up in a big Klor smile. He nodded at the officer, then waved his hand dismissively at his Or colleagues as if batting away a fly. You could almost hear him thinking, Pah! I did nothing! They came to see the apple trees, not me! People laughed, and Meem and Astra hugged each other, only stifling their giggles when Nimma shot them a warning look from the table.
Silver finished preening and hunched on the rail. The Owleons were so striking, overlooking the tent, totems of Or’s exceptional role in the bioregion and beyond. Astra was expecting Hokma to be named next, for her work with the Edition Four birds, but the female officer concluded with some words of general appreciation for Wise House, which continued to contribute greatly to the vital work of national defence, not to mention – and here she turned and gestured up at the birds – ceremonial marquee decoration.
As if on cue, Helium let loose a dropping, a white streak that hurtled to the grass behind Dr Blesserson. The tent exploded with laughter, startling the birds, who flapped up from the rail, straining at their leads. Silver squawked and moulted, losing a feather, which floated down to the ground behind the female officer, who was explaining the joke to her colleagues. Dr Blesserson grinned and placed his hand on his head, as if for protection.
Astra frowned. The Owleons weren’t decorations. They were here representing Gaia’s creatures. It wasn’t funny if they had to shit, and it wasn’t right to scare them. But the adults clapped loudly, the female officer bowed her head and then the tall male Inspector, who was also a top woodsman, was giving his report on Craft House. He praised Or’s national reputation for excellence in fabric work, and named Nimma and her team, who stood and bobbed quickly, clapping each other. The officer concluded by commenting that, considering its forest location and fine stands of lacebark, Craft House could offer more in the way of woodwork, but he noted that Or had recently made an application to IMBOD to fund two new woodcarvers and a studio extension, and he assured Craft House that he would personally recommend that this funding was approved. This announcement was met with the biggest round of applause yet.
Now it was Dr Blesserson’s turn. Astra knew she ought to look at him now, in case later, on the Kezcam video, her head was out of line with the other children’s. She tried to focus, not on his face but on the marquee flap behind him. Dr Blesserson tapped his Tablette screen, glanced up over his glasses and began.
‘To me falls the honour of delivering the report’s overall conclusions, and the final recommendations of the panel. The full text will be available on your Tablettes tomorrow, and we are all understandably looking forward to one of Or’s mouth-watering banquets, so you will be delighted to hear that I am going to keep this brief.’ Again, people chuckled. Even though he was head and shoulders taller than most people, and a genius, Dr Blesserson, Astra realised, had a way of making himself seem unimportant.
‘I am delighted to report that Or has excelled in nearly all of its long-term objectives, and indeed has surpassed several not even dreamt of at the time of the last Inspection. The committee has no hesitation in awarding another Outstanding result.’
A tumult of applause shook the marquee. Nimma was beaming like a sunflower, and Ahn looked up from his
Tablette to cast one of his pale, crooked smiles over the audience. Meem threw herself at Astra and nearly knocked her over with a hug. Behind them adults were whispering, Well done! and, Oh, what a relief.
Dr Blesserson raised his hands and waited for silence. ‘I must add, however,’ he went on, ‘that the committee is concerned that Or’s high performance to date may be in part due to the heavy workloads undertaken by some of the founding members. While dedication and commitment are of course to be commended, we note that over time such work rates may paradoxically result in a drop-off of efficiency. We note, for example, that attendance at Or Parents’ Committee meetings has recently been, shall we say, less than consistent. We therefore recommend that the post of School Spoke be offered to a new member of the community, allowing Dr Hokma Blesser to concentrate on the Code work for which she is justly renowned.’
A man behind Astra made a little ‘hmp’ sound in his throat. Otherwise you could have heard a sparrow’s heartbeat in the tent. Nimma was still smiling, but she wasn’t looking in Hokma’s direction; Ahn was back at his Kezcamming. Astra’s face flooded with rage. She wanted to run up to the table and bang her fists on the cloth and shout at Dr Blesserson: Hokma works all day, and she looks after me and Lil at night. She knows all about Or-kid education and who cares if she doesn’t have time to go to frigging meetings to talk about washing frigging nappies.
She wanted Helium and Silver to shit all over the head table, but the meeting was rolling smoothly on, like a granite boulder crushing wild-flowers in its path. ‘Thank you, Dr Blesserson,’ Nimma said. ‘We of course take the committee’s recommendation in the generous spirit in which it is offered, and will act on it immediately.’
‘I have no doubt that you will.’ Dr Blesserson addressed the audience, looking out into the middle distance, although he must have been perfectly aware that his sister was sitting in the second row. ‘Just as I have no doubt that Dr Hokma Blesser’s achievements will figure prominently again in the next Inspection Report. But let me finish on an uplifting note. I once again offer my congratulations to you all for maintaining your stellar position in the IMBOD Community Rankings. I have also been asked to make a special announcement on behalf of the Or Steering Committee. It therefore gives me huge pleasure to officially announce that just this morning in Sippur the Steppes Wheel Meet awarded the contract for the design of its new Bioregional Arts and Crafts Gallery to your Founding Member Ahn Orson, who has beaten out top candidates from all over the country. This prize is another gilded laurel leaf in Or’s crown, and I can think of no better way to end this meeting than with a standing ovation to Ahn, and to you all.’
