About Sisterland (43 page)

“I’ll be late for work. There’s a spare cushion for your back in the bedroom, if you need it. Are you sure babyfusion won’t happen today? I worry about you when I’m out at work.”

“No need to fret. Honestly. The medico Devotion sent for yesterday tested me. The date selected for birth activation hasn’t been overridden. She gave me a shot, just to make sure.”

He kissed her on the lips, while Modesty stared open-mouthed.

“Don’t forget your hood,” Constance reminded him.

“In my pocket.”

He nodded at Modesty, and turned towards the door.

As it opened for him, Modesty said to Constance, “You know, he’s the first man I’ve had a conversation with. A real conversation, I mean. I suspect it’s because he wasn’t wearing a hood. Hoods create distance.”

Harper stopped. “They do more than that. They create suspicion.”

Modesty shrugged. “I prefer no hoods.”

“Why?”

“I like to see men’s faces. Some are handsome. It’s a pleasure to admire beauty. I appreciate flowers. Why not men?”

Against his will, he laughed, and the door closed behind him.

Thoughtful, Modesty said, “He thinks for himself. How does Patience get on with him?”

“Hasn’t met him yet. Too busy being the instigator of the Silent Revolution.”

“Does she have an other?”

“No, she’s a workaholic.”

“We all have to make time for relaxation, Constance. It’s time I found an other.”

“Female or male?”

“Can men be others? Surely that’s a step too far.”

“I think of Harper as my other. I’m not the only one. I know of several sisters, well-connected, with male others, too.”

“Even if I wanted one, I can’t get to know any men. Not properly. And definitely not improperly. How did women and men meet in PS days?”

“Social activities.”

“Ah, that’s where we’re going wrong. There’s no inter-gender socialising.”

“Well then, Modesty, you could always nominate yourself to start some. In the meantime, look around you. You’ll see plenty of men. They travel on the Buzz now: that’s one place to get to know them. They walk in parks. That’s another. And they receive payment for their work, so they can afford to go into eat-easies. You can sit at their table and talk to them. Sooner rather than later, women and men will become better acquainted. It’s inevitable.”

“I suppose. But women will have to do all the running – men are nervous of us. You’ve no idea how cagey they look when I approach them.”

“Come on, you’re well able to do the running, Modesty!”

“I know I’m able for it, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it. At least, not all the time.” Modesty was wistful. “I might want someone to run after me, for a change.”

“That’s possible, in this new version of Sisterland. It was never likely under the previous one.”

“Why, Constance, you’re promoting the Silent Revolution. You told me you only did that on public forums.”

Constance was startled. Modesty was right: she’d gone native.

That night, Harper sat Constance on a high stool in the bathroom, and washed her hair at the sink, because she could not manage to bend over the basin by herself. As he massaged her scalp, she asked him what he made of Modesty.

“That woman is a force of nature. She wants to have it all. She’s going to be our neighbour in this unit one of these days, with a male other in tow. If not a pair of them.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” agreed Constance. “But why shouldn’t she have it all? As a woman getting her hair lathered up, I’m in no position to point the finger!”

“You’re babyfused. And due into sourcingplace tomorrow. You deserve to be pampered tonight.”

His movements were tender as he wrapped a
towel round her head, and helped her off the stool.

“All the same,” Constance added, “why shouldn’t Modesty have it all?”

Hand under her elbow, he guided her into the bedroom. “If she has it all at somebody else’s expense, that’s why not.”

“A man’s, I presume?”

He helped her into the pop-up, propped pillows behind her back, and returned to the bathroom. Constance knew he was turning over what they were discussing, and did not press him. Finger-combing her damp hair, she watched him through the open door. He funnelled the used water from the sink into a basin, and carried it outside to water the garden. Harper was growing vegetables in a patch Constance had secured for him in the communal green area.

On his return, he said, “Some women aren’t making space for men in this new world of theirs.”

“I’m making space.”

“You’re in a minority.”

“No, I’m not. You, Harper the Forester turned Vegetable-grower, are impatient. But I love you anyway.”

She waited. He didn’t say he loved her back. But he found a cushion for her feet, tweaking her toes as he lifted them. Her playful protest brought a smile to his face. She wished he could accept that improvements had happened, and more would follow. Harper’s scepticism about the changing face of Sisterland made her anxious.

For him, and their baby. Constance had to believe the three of them had a future together here. She had too much invested in the new Sisterland.

“Patience came to see me today,” said Constance. “While you were at work. She offered a peer escort and private vehicle to take me to sourcingplace. She said I was in a sacred condition, and every care had to be taken of the baby.”

“What did you say?” Harper stopped what he was doing, waiting for her answer.

“I said no, I mustn’t set myself apart. I thought Patience was going to insist. But she told me she approved of this act of self-denial, and she’d make sure other sisters heard about it. It’s proof we’re all treated equally in the new Sisterland.”

Harper didn’t reply. Uneasy, Constance read his thoughts without mindmapping him. She lived in a threeser in private grounds with a man. She wasn’t treated the same as her sisters.

Chapter 37

Constance, Devotion and Goodwill waited for a Buzz to take them to sourcingplace. Devotion and Goodwill had insisted on accompanying her, which pleased Constance.

“I hope you’re up to raising a baby, Constance,” said Devotion. “Personally, I was relieved when you went to girlplace.”

“Though you’d never have let her go if you’d known about the Nine’s blood-harvesting,” said Goodwill.

“Of course not,” said Devotion. “Still, it’s a big responsibility to care for a child. I always thought the Nine was right about it – it’s too important to let it be an amateur occupation.”

“I have Harper to help me.”

Devotion looked sceptical, but at a nudge from Goodwill she let it pass.

Behind the women, the station wall was covered by a hologram: a stylised representation of the Silenced in black, white and red. In the first image, scarlet scarves bound their mouths. But the hologram flickered to show the Silenced untying their scarves. And in the final image, each of the Silenced held her scarf aloft, its tail streaming behind. Impossible to miss, the tableau was lasered onto the sides of public buildings, onto Buzzes, onto bridges – all except the Hope Bridge, reserved for Silence’s face.

“Personally, I’m tired of this image cropping up everywhere.” Devotion jerked her head towards the Silenced hologram writhing the length of the oncoming train. “I liked the Buzz better with nothing on the side.”

“These images give substance to our new Sisterland,” said Goodwill. “Images stop time – they become eternal. And eternity is the message we seek to convey. Sisterland will continue. Its future is in no doubt.”

Constance kept her attention on her bump. That was the future she was interested in. The all-pervasive imagery of Silence and the Silenced in the new Sisterland surprised her – she thought Patience had gone overboard on it. But Patience argued that Silence helped them achieve their goal of easing the transition, and Constance accepted that. Mostly.

She allowed her gaze to meander about the carriage. A hooded man, accompanied by a senior Sistercentral official, sat at the back. He never lifted his eyes from the ground. Space was left around the couple, some sisters preferring to stand rather than sit beside them. But Constance saw the woman travelling with him stroke his arm in reassurance.

The train began slowing into a station.

“Excuse me, aren’t you Silence’s other?” a sister waiting to disembark said to Constance.

“I was.”

The passenger was reverent. “They say your baby will be Silence reincarnated. Sisterland thanks you for it. We celebrate your fertility.” The woman gave a radiant smile, and stepped onto the platform.

Constance sighed, resigned. Sisters were expecting too much from her baby. But Patience was keen on the reincarnation theory – she said it would be another stepping stone in fostering a sense of continuity. And Constance didn’t want to challenge her on it – what if Patience reneged on letting her keep her baby?

“You ought to put a stop to that story, ladybird,” said Devotion. “Why didn’t you say something, Goodwill?”

“It could be useful.”

Devotion snorted.

Goodwill and Constance exchanged glances, guilty but complicit.

“I felt sorry for Harper this morning,” said Goodwill. “He looked left out.”

“You won’t forget your promise?”

“I won’t.”

That morning, trying to mask his hurt, Harper had walked her to the Buzz station where Goodwill and Devotion were waiting. Goodwill had spoken to him, but Devotion had kept her distance, turning away pointedly as Harper had hugged Constance.

“I’ll make sure you’re told about the baby as soon as we have news, Harper,” Goodwill had offered. “And don’t worry, we’ll see good care is taken of Constance.”

Harper had been reluctant to say goodbye. Even after he did, he had retraced his steps to hold her once again, resting his forehead against hers, sharing her breath. A ripple of puzzlement had managed to work its way onto Devotion’s skin.

Now, the Buzz wended its way to sourcingplace, past Hope Bridge.

Devotion looked out at the Silence hologram, its face ethereal. “You never really know someone, do you? Such a waste.”

“It wasn’t wasted. Silence is the match that lit the flame,” said Goodwill.

“Silence should have taken up gardening or winemaking. They’d have soothed her troubles.”

“Patience is in awe of Silence,” said Goodwill. “At one stage, planning the Silent Revolution, she considered copycat episodes at the Hope Bridge. I’ve no doubt volunteers would have queued up to do it, too. ‘Think of the symbolism!’ said Patience. ‘Think of the losses!’ I told her. Thankfully, she listened.” She noticed Constance shudder, and said quickly, “What a treat to have a new baby among us. Were you never tempted, Constance, to discover the gender in advance?”

“Never.” Constance stroked her belly. “Thank you for coming to sourcingplace with me.”

“We know you’d prefer that man beside you,” said Devotion.

“Harper.”

“Yes, him.”

“His name is Harper, Devotion. Can’t you bring yourself to say it?”

“Harper. There! Satisfied?”

“We’re here with you, since Harper can’t be,” Goodwill intervened. “Naturally, we wouldn’t dream of letting you go on your own.”

“You’ll keep your promise, Goodwill? The minute the baby arrives? He’ll be fretting.”

“He’ll be the first person I tell. After Patience, obviously.”

“You like him, don’t you, Goodwill?”

“Yes, I do. He made a good job of the baby’s cradle.”

“Men have a knack for repetitive work,” said Devotion.

In sourcingplace, still weak from the birth, Constance watched Devotion clucking over the baby. She rearranged the lilac blanket under the minuscule chin, and checked the temperature control on the wall panel.

“Such a teeny-tiny scrap,” said Devotion. “It’s hard to believe she weighs more than you did, Constance. She looks so delicate. Such a button of a nose. Look at her wrinkle it up, Goodwill. Isn’t she adorable?”

“Harper knows you have a daughter,” said Goodwill. “I transmitted an image to the unit-minder’s comtel, and she called up to him.”

“Did he say anything?”

“He said she was beautiful. And he asked how you were. I told him you took to sourcing like a fish to water.”

Devotion poked the tip of her smallest finger into the baby’s fist. “You know, Constance, I think she looks like me.”

“I see Goodwill in her,” said Constance.

“Impossible.” Devotion bent low, smelling the milky breath.

“You see what you see and I see what I see.”

Goodwill’s eyes were luminous as they made contact with Constance’s.

Immediately after the birth, Constance had been disappointed to learn her baby’s gender: she had longed to be in the vanguard of sisters refusing to relinquish a son. Her hope was that it might help Harper to feel valued, in turn. They’d bring up a son in exactly the same way as they’d raise a daughter, and he’d understand Sisterland had changed beyond recognition. But as soon as her daughter was placed in her arms, Constance knew that a girl was exactly what she wanted. And not just any girl, but this one.