About Sisterland (28 page)

“You’ll never be let anywhere near shaping, either. You can’t be trusted – you’re not on message. You’re presenting quite a problem, Constance.” She squinted at her. “What puzzles me is why you’re still here.”

“But I haven’t done anything wrong!” wailed Constance. “I’m not a danger to Sisterland. I just asked some questions, that’s all. You don’t agree with everything one hundred per cent, either.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You told me –”

“I told you nothing.” Noisily, Modesty pulled open all the drawers in her desk, one after another, checking they were empty. She took a container holding her skin from the bottom drawer, adding it to a transparent box in which her personal possessions were stacked.

“Where are you being assigned?” Constance asked.

“The Sistercentral staff.”

“Plenty of opportunities there, I should think.”

“Depends on where they put me. The Shaper Mother lets me do things my own way. I’d still be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“Things aren’t exactly going my way, either.”

“True. But you’re the one making waves. I’m getting splashed by them.”

“Why am I still in Shaperhaus, Modesty? Why am I not in MUM? Or Safe Space?”

“The mother fought to keep you. She has a soft spot for you. I heard her say she’s intuited something about you – you have enormous potential. Gifts for Sisterland to harness.” Modesty sniffed, to show what she thought of the prognosis.

Constance was bemused. She had no special qualities – these days, she was in a permanent state of confusion. The Shaper Mother must be mistaken. “I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay her, Modesty.”

“I’m sure she’ll think of something. Well, that’s that. I’m off. I’ve messaged your comtel with a note of all the codes for the office.” Modesty lifted her box, and slouched towards the door. “Try to stay out of mischief.”

“Wait, Modesty! I don’t know anything about this job.”

“Not my problem. I have to learn how to do a new job, too.”

“You’ll be a terrific asset to Sistercentral. You could run it standing on your head. I’m sure you’ll be promoted to some crucial position in no time.”

Mollified, Modesty stopped and rested the container on her hip. “Look, here’s what you need to know about the mother. She works all hours, and you’ll be expected to match her. She takes naps on a pop-up in her office. She’s hopeless with technology so you’ll have to switch everything on and off for her. She claims anything she can’t work is temperamental or broken. And she has exercise gadgets she sometimes likes to use. They’re stored under the floor, beside the pop-up. She’s rather proud of her arm strength. If you can keep on top of all that, you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Modesty. Good luck.” Constance squared her shoulders. “Right, I expect the mother wants to see me straight away.”

Modesty shifted her load. “She’s at Sistercentral. She won’t be in today.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“The job’s mainly about using your commonsense. You’ll be fine. At least until your baby arrives. I wouldn’t count on anything after that.”

When Constance arrived for work the following day, the Shaper Mother was in the outer office, some sheets of paper in her hand. When she saw Constance, she folded them over, and slid them into her pocket. Her head was minus its trademark high-gloss sheen, and the cream lace shawl she wore over her Shaperhaus uniform had a stain on it.

“Ah, Constance.”

“Good morning, mother.” A pause, during which
Constance expected to be given some instructions. Finally, she said, “Would you like me to fetch you some ocean tea?”

“I don’t care for ocean tea – too salty. Unfortunately, I have a sweet tooth. I try not to indulge it. Perhaps I could make allowances today. I’ve had a difficult night. A mindmap assignment. The subject was . . .” Uncharacteristically, her voice trickled away, uncertain.

“Resistant?” suggested Constance.

“No, the subject went over easily enough. But the
information we interchanged was disconcerting. I
encountered a marked hostility towards our way of life.”

‘The subject’. Clearly, the mother didn’t want Constance to know she was intuiting from a man. And not a word about him being from Outsideland.

“Can’t we learn from criticism, mother?”

“Learning is one thing, contamination is another. We value our civilisation. It must be safeguarded against agents of pollution.”

“Surely Sisterland’s more resilient than that?”

“Naturally Sisterland has the utmost confidence in itself.”

Constance decided to test her. “May I ask, mother, where the subject comes from?”

The Shaper Mother lied fluently. “From Black Particle. It’s so far away, inhabitants can drift out of step with our ways here in Harmony. We’re suspicious of this renegade’s motives. We’ve worked too hard to construct our society – we can’t allow it to be destabilised.”

The mother walked across to the window to watch the street life below. Activity was disciplined, pedestrians all moving purposefully, although respectful of one another’s personal space. It seemed to soothe her, and she nodded in approval.

“I’ve witnessed ugly sights, Constance. Sights that weigh heavily on me. They don’t believe in cooperation, except when it suits them. Every decision is based on personal gain – community interests are sidelined. The individual always takes precedence. Such a selfish, driven way of life!” Wearied, the Shaper Mother leaned her forehead against the glass.

“You should rest, mother. Surely someone else can continue with the interchange?”

“Unfortunately not. I’m linked in to the subject now, I must see it through. That’s the protocol. We have a system for dealing with renegades. Not that we encounter them often. The oceans protect our borders.”

Why, she’s forgotten herself, Constance realised. She’s just admitted Sisterland has outer limits in need of guarding. Exhaustion must have caused the blunder. As the thought formed, she suppressed it, but the mother was flagging visibly and not sensing as she usually did.

“It might be a good idea to close your eyes for an hour, mother. Even if you don’t sleep, the rest will help.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever sleep again. The cruelty of this person’s world is seared on me. The violence! The tumult!” She was overtaken by a yawn. “By rights, I shouldn’t have left Sistercentral, but the subject has been allowed a few hours’ sleep, and I couldn’t bear to be under the same roof any longer. I felt soiled.”

As the Shaper Mother pulled her shawl tight, Constance experienced a beat of pity. She had never seen her so vulnerable.

The mother’s head snapped back on her neck. “Incidentally, I presume you’ve been informed: the Nine has new plans for you.”

“Innocence said I wasn’t being sent to MUM. I know I owe it to you, mother. You spoke up for me, and I’ll never forget it. But it’s only a temporary reprieve, isn’t it? The Nine is busy now. My case has been aside. But something will be done about me, maybe after I become a source.”

“Constance, child, I really don’t know what’s to become of you. All I can tell you is this: have faith in the Nine. Believe me, I’ll do my best for you. And now, I think I will lie down after all. Another long day stretches ahead.”

She retreated to the inner office, Constance following to activate the pop-up.

“I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed, mother.”

“Call me at once if the Nine needs me.”

“Of course. Shall I fetch you a container for your skin?”

“I’m still wearing it? I must be more tired than I realised.” She reached up to unhook it. “There’s a holder in the footstool beside my chair. Just lift the stool’s lid.”

Constance found a carved onyx box. “How dainty.”

“It was a gift from my other.”

“What exquisite taste, mother.”

“Yes, she was rather amazing.” A remnant of sorrow settled on the Shaper Mother’s face, visible without the barrier of her mask.

It moved Constance. Despite the difference in their
stations, she wanted to reach out to this woman who had championed her before the Nine. “Should I organise a moe? It might revive you.”

The mother recoiled. “I hardly ever indulge.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume. But I don’t fully understand how I’m supposed to assist you.”

“It was a thoughtful suggestion. But the upper echelons in Sisterland rarely take moes. It’s seen as a sign of weakness. On the odd occasion when I do, it’s always an E.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing. Empathy helps me to connect with my sisters. Moes have their place, but not in my life. I don’t suppose you’d consider . . .” She paused, leaving the words dangling.

“I’m sure I’d consider doing anything you wanted of me, mother.”

“Would you? Would you really?”

Constance gave a start at the urgency in her voice.

“That’s good to know. I’ll talk to you later, sweet child. Operate the blankout on your way out.”

Back in the outer office, Constance found some folded sheets of paper on the floor, by the window. They must be what the mother had been studying. She picked them up and opened them out.

ACCOUNT BY OUTSIDELANDER OF SISTERLAND’S ORIGINS

Scribbled on the margin was an instruction.

Cross-reference with memory-keeper versions

Constance began reading the printed text.

Q. What’s known about the birth of Sisterland?

A. It happened in response to World War III which broke out in the year 2035. The war lasted for two years and caused some 2.5 billion deaths. When peace was negotiated, the world lay in rubble. A generation was annihilated – young men, for the most part, along with significant numbers of young women. Contrary to expectations, nuclear weaponry was not a factor, but sustained heavy artillery action severely compromised the planet’s ecosystem. Species of wild animals became extinct. Priceless artworks were lost when museums and galleries were shelled, while iconic landmarks were destroyed beyond repair.

Q. Were women forced to join this war?

A. Fighting was conducted largely by men but with some female participation. For the most part, women were not regarded as useful in the field, and ran non-military operations in their home territories. They headed up government bodies concerned with healthcare and education, in addition to any multinational companies still able to function. For the first time in history women became accustomed to power. And when they saw what could be achieved with it – even during wartime – they decided to try to put a stop to warfare, once and for all.

Q. How?

A. An alignment of women known as the Nine, headed by a charismatic leader of obscure origins called Beloved, came together to develop a strategy. During the war’s wind-down phase, the Nine arranged for giant
screens to be erected at all of the main meeting points for homecoming troops in docks and airports. Exhausted combatants were warned that their military leaders were addicted to war, and would declare it again on another front. Exclusively female government was the only way to guarantee peace.

Q. And men saw sense?

A. Nobody likes to lose power. After peace terms were negotiated, there was an attempted male resumption which proved unsuccessful. This was largely due to the debilitating impact of a pathogenic strain of bacteria unleashed during the final phase of WWIII. It only attacked the XY chromosome combination – women’s XX genetic composition meant they were immune. The scientists who developed the bacteria as a weapon of biological warfare believed they had an antidote to safeguard their own side. But while the counter-agent worked for a time, the bacteria mutated and overrode it. The men who survived the war were weakened, and their vulnerability allowed women to consolidate their position. The Nine took drastic steps to separate the genders – and to programme women to be suspicious of men.

A commentary was scribbled at this point.

And a new world order emerged! A nation ruled by women. It was a metamorphosis. A transfiguration. A perfection!

Q. How did other countries react to the Sisterland State?

A. At first, the rest of the world was busy licking its wounds. By the time it woke up to what had been established, Sisterland’s borders were secure. Efforts to make contact through diplomatic channels were rebuffed, and

The office door opened. Constance shoved the pages into the drawer of the desk.

Modesty walked in, moulded to the one-piece garment worn by all Sistercentral staff.

“Modesty, back already! Don’t you look smart!”

Modesty trailed a hand down her front. “This is self-cleaning. Dirt dissolves on contact, like foam on sand. Why are you looking so shifty?”

Constance took out the pages and handed them to Modesty whose eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as she read them.

“Where did you get these?”

“The mother dropped them.”

“Must be notes from her sessions with the Outsidelander. Don’t let her know you’ve found them. You’ll catch it, if she does.”