About Sisterland (4 page)

“Silence enjoyed installing sigs.”

The mother made a dismissive gesture. “Job satisfaction is a given in Sisterland, in any field. It doesn’t confer competence, however. Now, Constance, when the time comes for you to babyfuse for Sisterland, I take it you’ll accept all of our policies? Without letting your other’s exhibitionism corrupt you?”

“I’m not due to go forward as a source for several more years, mother. I’m still in training.”

“Come and sit beside me again.” The mother patted the stool at her feet, and Constance was obliged to accept the invitation. “Yes, the co-keeper training. That’s why I asked to see you. We think it advisable to interrupt it.”

“You mean I can leave the programme? I can start work as a thought-shaper?” Constance could hardly believe her luck.

“That would be a waste of your talents, sweet child. In time, we think you could become one of our most effective co-keepers. The work that’s being entrusted to this new division matters enormously for Sisterland. As you know, only thirteen memory-keepers are left. A number of them will not see out the decade. Already, more than half of our dear ones are too frail to travel.”

Constance nodded. Increasingly, long-distance memory-keeping was being used – she had sat in on some of the sessions. But research showed that everything, from shaping to memory-keeping, achieved better results in person. There was no substitute for Togethertime. The solution was for thirteen young shapers to be trained up as co-keepers, eventually replacing the original memory-keepers.

It was impressed on the co-keepers that theirs was an anointed position. When all of the keepers were gone, they would be responsible for feeding the flames of memory. With a key difference. Instead of simply passing on memories, as supplied by the keepers, they would construct memories. New data about the past, new insights, new interpretations. As supplied by the Nine.

Sometimes, keepers’ memories differed. Now, they would be smoothed into consistency. Muddled memories would be eradicated. It was this aspect of the strategy which troubled Constance.

“Memories are too important to allow random versions to confuse our sisters. We need uniformity of thinking.” The Shaper Mother had mindmapped her.

“But won’t that create a uniform society, mother?”

“You might imagine so. But what it actually fosters is a calm society founded on agreement. Serenity allows us to flourish. It ensures our natural diligence is not disrupted, or diverted into counter-productive goals. Conflicting memories cause tangled thoughts, and those are as damaging as unregulated moes. You do see that, don’t you, Constance?”

“Of course, mother. Forgive me, I’m just a little edgy. Since Silence.”

“It’s natural. I dare say we all need a few sharp edges. Without them, there’d be no stars. But you must strive for composure, as I do.”

“I will, mother. I do.”

“I had a look at your moe chart – you absorbed a U yesterday. Admirable choice. But you’re strikingly liable to shadow-moe. Taking moes increases that tendency.”

Constance felt rebuked, at which the mother patted her shoulder.

“Each one of our co-keeper trainees has this predisposition: it’s why you were selected. But none, I think, with the charge you possess.” Just then, a bell pinged. “Covenant Time already.” The mother stood up.

Modesty entered, and took the mother’s hand. Both extended a hand to Constance, and the three formed a circle. The mother’s grip was strong, the skin dry. Her rings chafed at Constance, whose hand felt subsumed by the mother’s. She looked away, to Modesty’s child-sized hand, noticing the intricate henna patterns stencilled on its back. In unison, they chanted, “
Not the self but the State, not me but US. To the greater good: to universal sisterhood.
”

The mother cleared her throat. “See to that temporary permit we discussed, Modesty. She’s a suitable candidate.”

Modesty threw Constance a glance bubbling with curiosity, before withdrawing.

Alone again with Constance, the mother retrieved the threads of their conversation.

“Shadow-moe ability is essential to your work. A co-keeper must empathise on a profoundly intimate level with the keeper she’s destined to replace. Moe acts as a bridge between minds. But you’ve been left vulnerable by the Silence situation. You need to take a step back. We intend you to become a co-keeper, but not yet. I know it’s disappointing, but think of it as a pause, not a cessation. We need to be certain you’ve recovered from your other’s contamination. And taking you off the programme will give you time to concentrate on curbing your shadow-moe tendencies. You must learn to access them only when needed for co-keeping.”

“I try not to give way to them, mother.”

“Periods of stress can trigger moes. This has been a challenging time for you, sweet child. Nobody is blaming you.”

The Shaper Mother’s kindness triggered a confession from Constance. “These shadow-moes make me unhappy.”

“I should think so. That’s why a previous Nine took control of them. I suppose moes provided solutions to problems facing our ancestors: they were gut reactions which allowed them to process information quickly, and respond. Fear, for example, was appropriate when confronted by a predator. But how necessary is it today, in a world without crime or violence? Many of these moes are obsolete now. Feelings cannot be allowed to dictate behaviour. You must continue to guard against shadow-moeing. Except when you need it for your work.”

“I will, mother. But what work am I to do, if I’m off the co-keeper programme?”

The Shaper Mother clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling. “How fortunate you are, Constance. There’s something else you can do for Sisterland, and yourself. Something that will distance you from Silence’s taint. Babyfusion! It’s time to offer yourself as a source.” As an afterthought, she tacked on, “If you’re willing.”

Constance was surprised. “I’m two years below the minimum age to apply for a licence. Wouldn’t it be against the rules?”

“Rules can be suspended.” The mother’s tone was careless. “In exceptional circumstances, I mean.”

Beloved’s Pearls
taught that everyone was subject to the same set of rules – even the Nine.

Forgetting herself, Constance raised her eyes to stare.

The winning smile sprang open. “Our plan has symmetry, you see. Your baby will replace the life your other was carrying.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Splendid. Your mating licence will be fast-tracked.”

Fast-tracking: another suspension of the rules. The mother gave a tiny shrug.

Constance bowed, preparing to withdraw.

The Shaper Mother held up a hand, palm outward. “Coincidentally, sweet child, I can tell you’re ovulating. Go to matingplace tonight.”

“But the licence won’t be through by then, surely? Even if it’s speeded up?”

“I have discretion to award a temporary permit – Modesty should have uploaded it to your sig by now. See? There it is already.”

Constance’s gaze flew to her sig. The pinkification of the
φ
φ
symbol had happened already, changing from black to a disturbingly insistent shade of pink. It was official. She was licensed to attempt babyfusion. But she wasn’t ready! “I haven’t been briefed on mating, mother. I’m not sure what to do.”

“The Mating Board runs regular seminars. Ask Modesty for a list of them.”

“But you said to go tonight. There won’t be time. Shouldn’t I wait until after my briefing?”

The Shaper Mother frowned. “Why delay? What happens during mating is somewhat humiliating, I admit. But the end is what counts. Not the
process. The Mating Board has compiled a fact file – we’ll have that sent through to your comtel. Modesty will take care of it. And if you’re still unclear on anything, ask the Mating Mother. She’ll answer any questions before you mate.” The Shaper Mother stood. “Babyfuse quickly, if you can. It’s the ultimate act of sisterdom.” In benediction, she laid both hands on top of Constance’s head. “Know that Sisterland cherishes you, Constance. Always, at all times, we want what’s best for you.”

The door curled open, and Constance stumbled towards it.

Modesty was waiting on the other side. “Your mating permit’s been uploaded. Some people have all the luck.”

“I don’t suppose there’s time for me to squeeze in one of those Mating Board seminars?”

“No, I checked already. There won’t be another session till Friday. But I’ve sent you its handout.
Helpful Hints for Himtime
.” Modesty winked. “Informative little guide.”

Constance tapped her comtel, and a header with the
Mating Board’s sleeping baby logo appeared.

Congratulations, sister!
she read.

She skimmed the screen on to the next page.

You’ve been selected to attempt babyfusion!

Sisterland is proud of you!

She flicked forward.

It requires Himtime duties.

Below, you’ll find diagrams. These can be linked to your entscreen for moving pictures. First, a list of frequently asked questions.

Again, Constance moved the screen.

Will it hurt?

Some discomfort can be expected the first time, but you will be given a medicinal drink to minimise it.

Will I bleed?

The drink prevents bleeding.

Constance kept scrolling.

Who chooses the man?

The Mating Mother.

Can a woman refuse a man?

Of course.

She looked up, to find Modesty watching her. “Himtime! It sounds so masculine!”

“Don’t worry, Constance, the mating urge will take over.”

“The mating urge?”

“It’s all in there. Just keep reading.”

“I still don’t understand why the mother wants me to do this. I haven’t been sent for vetting – either physical or psychological.”

“I guess the rules don’t apply to you.”

“I never knew rules were so flexible, Modesty.”

“Welcome to the real world, sister.”

Chapter 4

Constance had never been inside matingplace. But she had a fair idea of what to expect. Even before reading the
Himtime
file. After Silence had gone forward for babyfusion, she had told Constance what happened during mating. It had sounded repellent, and Constance had said so. But Silence had disagreed: mating was forceful, she had said, but not in an unpleasant way. The act of creation took energy, that was all. A hint of a smile had played on her lips, and Constance had felt excluded. Quickly, Silence had reassured her that it wasn’t real intimacy – just a bodily function. Still, Constance had puzzled over that ghost of a smile.

Thanks to Silence, Constance knew things not included in the
Himtime
guide. That she wouldn’t be expected to hold hands with a man, as she did with Silence. Nor would she lay her head on his shoulder, as she did with Silence. There would be no whispered words of affection. No leaving one another small gifts to find. No putting their arms about each other, swapping secrets. No sharing a pop-up bed all night long, waking to the sound of one another’s breathing.

In fact, she wouldn’t share any real closeness with this man selected for her by the Mating Mother. But she was required to spend time alone, in private, with him. And this would be a first. Interfacing with men happened at a superficial level: watching from a distance as they laboured at jobs demanding mindless repetition – never more than three together because men were not allowed to congregate.

Silence had told her mating took place in near-darkness, and that the man sweated and grunted during it. Certainly,
those noises were unpleasant, she said, but other aspects of the procedure were less so. For example, while their bodies were harder than a woman’s, the sensation was not unattractive. Firm flesh felt agreeable against a woman’s body, according to Silence. It provided a sense of safety, which was irrational, and must be a genetic reflex. She had stroked Constance’s hair, describing the mating that had led to her babyfusion. Telling her she would understand when her time came.

But Constance’s time was already there. And it was too soon.

As she returned to the special projects floor, the progress-monitor beckoned to her.

Tone clipped, Patience said, “The Shaper Mother has sent instructions to take you off the co-keeper programme temporarily.”

“Yes, sister.”

“Such a waste of a place. There’ll only be twelve co-keepers now, when we planned for thirteen. Speaking of waste, your records show you haven’t vacated the unit you shared with your other. Is there any reason for the delay?”

“I haven’t been allocated anywhere else to live.” It was impossible to find accommodation in Harmony except through official channels.

Patience tutted. “How remiss of the unit-allocators. It’s inefficient to have one person living in a twoser. Contact them before you leave, and make sure they understand yours is ready to be reassigned.”

“Yes, sister.”

Patience gave her a narrow look. “The mother has requested a oneser for you in the same zone. I see you live by the riverfront, in Oblong. Onesers are rarer than rainbows in that part of Harmony. I must say, the mother is taking a remarkable interest in your welfare. Run along, Constance.
Don’t delay, obey!
”