Astra (10 page)

‘But our work doesn’t stop there,’ Klor went on as Astra mouthed the big words with him. ‘Here at Code House we innovate wherever we can. We’ve bred carnivorous jungle plants to serve as kitchen composters; we’ve Coded fungi to eat plastic; we’ve developed cacti bursting with biofortified milk for desert nomads to sow; we’ve ensured that every child in the world can study with a living lamp, a bioluminescent cactus sequenced with jellyfish Code.’

He had forgotten Astra’s favourite bit, the reintroduced reindeers in Nenetsland, eating hardy and vitamin-enriched grass, but she didn’t like to interrupt him. She leaned on the spade as he finished up, as always, with his hymn to Or.

‘Now, of course, we in Or take pride in our accomplishments.’ Klor raised his palms to the air as if admitting a terrible crime. ‘But above all we are grateful people. Come.’ He beckoned, and a couple of lady visitors bravely joined him at the edge of the roof. ‘Look at our little community, our simple structures. Imagine, twenty years ago, just two dozen of us embarking on a self-sufficient lifestyle, worshipping Gaia in all our activities. My wife spun and sewed our hemp shirts and knitted our shawls and I planted the seeds of the first superfood avocados. Now we’re a community of nearly three hundred people: scientists, artisans, gardeners, cooks – and children.’ He raised his voice for the end of his speech and the sentence that stirred Astra to her core every time she heard it. ‘Here in Or
we live collectively, in the founding tradition of Is-Land. The land that was once too hot for human habitation is now a green light steadily glowing on the face of a ravaged planet.’

Astra closed her eyes, imagining the emerald-green light of Is-Land spreading its fertile, healing rays all over the world. ‘I can only remind you,’ Klor continued, ‘that none of our work would be possible without the support of the Council of the New Continents, the Is-Land National Wheel Meet, and individual donors like your good selves. Any gift you care to make, however small, will be most welcome – but in my heart I wish only to give
you
something: a sense of hope and a belief that despite all our past mistakes, we human beings
belong
here, in the warm bosom of our mother Gaia.’

Some of the visitors looked up at the sky; some of them made a cross on their chests. Some of the men stroked their long beards – and that’s when the lady cried. Astra was standing right there and she saw her reach into her bag, take out a white hanky with pink stitching and dab her face, pulling her mouth down at the ends as she did so, maybe to make sure all the tears got squeezed out of her eyes.

She had reported this to Nimma, Meem, Yoki and Peat that night around the kitchen table when they were having their oatmilk and berry biscuits.
Today, Klor made a lady cry
.

‘Do you know why my words touched them?’ Klor asked. ‘It’s because everyone is at heart a Gaian. Even if they revere a Holy Book, even if they worship science, everyone knows in their hearts that neither religion or science alone can give us
meaning
. People ten thousand years ago didn’t have books or sequencing machines and yet there was still purpose and beauty to their lives. It is Gaia who gives life meaning, Or-children, and when Gaia took my leg back into her dark womb and I asked her why, She told me to stand up, use my mind and feed Her people.’

It was part of the speech, the answer he gave if a visitor asked him why he became a Code scientist. Hearing it here at home made Astra frown. Of course she knew that Klor had lost his leg defending Gaia: nearly every Or-adult who was missing a limb or an eye or had burns on their face or muscle tremors or used a wheelchair had been injured fighting the Non-Landers. But though Klor loved explaining how the microprocessor on his ultra-light recycled aluminium prosthesis controlled the knee and ankle joints, and the athletes who represented Is-Land in the Neoparalympics always sparked fierce debate about
wheelchair design, no one ever explained exactly how these sacrifices had been sustained.

‘Klor,’ she asked, ‘when did Gaia take your leg? Were you doing your IMBOD Service?’

‘Astra,’ Nimma said sharply, ‘we don’t ask—’ but Klor interrupted her.

‘Perhaps it’s time, dear.’

‘Meem’s not nearly old enough. Or Yoki.’ Nimma retorted. She had been cross an awful lot lately, ever since Elpis had her stroke.

Klor was sitting between Meem and Astra. He tousled Meem’s hair. ‘She’ll be fine, my angel. It’s the truth, and they should all hear it together.’

‘I want to hear!’ Meem pleaded.

‘I’m older than Astra!’ Yoki was affronted. ‘How come she gets to hear?’

‘She doesn’t!’ Nimma snapped. But Klor gazed at her steadily until she gave in. ‘All right, Klor. But if there are wet sheets tonight, they’re on
your
head.’

Astra caught Peat’s eye and they both suppressed a giggle. But it wasn’t a joke, she knew.

Nimma tightened her lips and Klor started telling them all the story of how he lost his leg. It wasn’t during his IMBOD Service, when most people made their sacrifice for Gaia, but later, after he and Nimma had got married and were living in New Bangor, when Sheba was seven years old.

Astra knew that Sheba had returned to Gaia when she was seven after being ill with a very rare condition, something that she didn’t need to worry about, because other children wouldn’t ever get it. ‘Were you in hospital at the same time as Sheba?’ she asked.

Across the table, Nimma’s eyes were filling with tears and Astra wondered for a moment if she was going to get told off again, but Klor just patted her shoulder and continued kindly, ‘I was, my darling. You see, Sheba and I went to Sippur for the day. It was going to be Nimma’s birthday soon and we went to buy her a special present. We were going to get some beads for her to make a necklace with. We went on the bus from New Bangor. We thought we’d be back that afternoon.’

Opposite Astra, Peat was chewing his lip and sliding his thumb along the edge of the table. Nimma wiped her face and put her arm around Yoki. ‘We really should have talked about this first, Klor,’ she complained.

But Klor continued, speaking in the same even, calm voice he used when explaining how Tablette circuitry worked. ‘We sat in the middle of
the bus. Sheba was by the window so she could look out at the steppes and I was right beside her. I had my leg sticking out in the aisle because there wasn’t much room between the seats. Oh my dewy meadow, we were looking forward to our day at the market. It was going to be Sheba’s first time in Sippur. But my darlings, there was a man on the bus who didn’t want us to arrive. I didn’t see him board the bus, but someone told me later that he got on at a stop in the outskirts of Sippur. He sat at the front. He had a hydropac on his back, but it didn’t just hold water. It contained a nanobomb, my darlings, and as the bus arrived at Sippur fruit market, the bomb exploded.’

Klor paused. No one spoke or moved. The only sounds in the kitchen were the ticking of the cuckoo clock and Nimma’s quiet sobs. For a moment Astra couldn’t breathe. It was as if each hoarse gasp Nimma uttered was rending a hole in the air, and through those holes all the oxygen was rushing out of the room, leaving her stranded in a vacuum.
Sheba had died in a bus-bomb
. The clock was ticking, yes, but the hand was stuck and time wasn’t moving on. No one sitting round the table could move or speak; they would just sit here forever, shrivelling up, until they weren’t people any more but withered, rotting stems.

The clock was ticking louder now, like the timer in Operation Is-Land counting down to an emergency. When a bus-bomb exploded in Operation Is-Land there were bodies everywhere: babies and children and pregnant women, all limp and dripping with blood. Astra began to feel hot just thinking about it. In Operation Is-Land, when a bus-bomber struck, you had to take action immediately. You had to send constables and medics to take the dead and injured to hospital, and then the National Wheel Meet had to redouble efforts to round up and expel all the infiltrators.

‘It was a Non-Lander,’ she furiously declared, shattering the vacuum. ‘A Non-Lander
killed Sheba
.’

‘Yes, Astra,’ Klor said. ‘The man was a Non-Lander. He killed Sheba, and himself, and seven other people, including the driver. Most of them were sitting near him, but the blast blew all the windows out of the bus and Sheba was thrown halfway out into the street. The shockwaves caused a disruption in the bones in my leg and later it had to be amputated above the knee. But I wasn’t thinking about my leg. I was thinking about Sheba. She was in hospital for three days, like we told you, but she never opened her eyes again. And then Gaia took her back.’

Klor’s voice was strained now. He stopped talking and an image of Sheba, flung out with the shattered glass, her body rinsed scarlet with blood, flashed into Astra’s mind. What did ‘halfway out of the window’ mean?

‘Was Sheba
cut in half
?’ she blurted.

‘Astra!’ Nimma gasped.

‘No, no, darling – no she wasn’t.’ Klor said soothingly. ‘She had cuts from the glass and her skin was sooty, but they washed her in the hospital and she looked beautiful, didn’t she, Nimma?’

Nimma sucked in her cheeks and cast a hurt, angry glance at Astra.

That wasn’t fair!
She
hadn’t killed Sheba.

Peat, sitting beside Nimma, was concentrating hard as if considering a move in chess. ‘Was there a trial?’ he asked. ‘Did you give evidence, Klor?’

‘There was no need for a trial, Peat. The man was dead. But later IMBOD rounded up a ring of infiltrators in the dry forest and expelled them all. It’s been safe here ever since. None of you have had to live with the threat of such violence, thank Gaia.’

Nimma was hugging Yoki so tightly there were red patches on his arms. ‘But mark my words,’ she flared, ‘they’ll try and come back here as soon as we let down our guard. That’s why we all have to do our IMBOD Service. To stop Non-Landers coming here to blow up our children.’

‘I’m scared,’ Yoki wailed. ‘I don’t ever want to go to Sippur.’

‘I told you, Klor,’ Nimma scolded, pressing Yoki’s head to her breast. ‘They’re not old enough.’

‘You don’t have to be frightened, Yoki,’ Klor said. ‘There aren’t any Non-Landers in Is-Land any more. They’ve all been found and taken back to the Belt. The man on the bus was one of the very last ones.’

Why was Yoki such a mouse? Why did Nimma always baby him? ‘
I’m
not scared,’ Astra shouted, half-raising herself from the bench. ‘I
hate
that man. I wish he wasn’t dead so I could
kill
him.’

‘Shhh, Astra,’ Klor said softly. ‘He’s dead, and Gaia doesn’t ever want us to act out of hate.’

‘She can feel angry if she wants to,’ Nimma retorted, even though she didn’t normally ever like Astra to lose her temper.

Astra sat up straight. Yes, she
did
feel angry. It was
right
to feel angry when a bus-bomber killed your
sister
.

‘I feel sad for Sheba,’ Meem whimpered, tears drooling down her face now as well. ‘She was going to buy Nimma a b-b-birthday present.’ Then
her voice rose too. ‘It was Nimma’s
birthday
. Why did the Non-Lander have to get on
your
bus? You and Nimma didn’t do anything wrong. Why did Gaia take Sheba away from you?’

‘I don’t know, darling. Gaia is very mysterious.’ Klor’s voice was choked. Then he put his elbows on the table and his hands up to his brow and Astra, sitting beside him, could feel his whole body began to shake. The sound coming out of his throat was terrible: deep and racking, like the old water pump in the school playground, creaking and groaning, but coming up dry. Nimma, opposite, had her eyes were closed. Her face was wet and she was rocking back and forth on the bench, her arms still clasped around Yoki. Meem was wailing, and across from Astra, Peat’s face was crumpling too. Watching everyone crying, Astra felt her skin burst all over with cold.

‘I miss her, my darlings,’ Klor finally managed to sputter. ‘I miss her very much.’

After that, he’d put his arms around Astra and Meem and everyone had cried all together, the tears running down Astra’s cheeks and dripping onto the table. Finally, Klor had taken his hanky out from his hipbelt and blown his nose like a reintroduced elephant and Nimma had got up to get hankies for everyone else. Then she and Klor had hugged them all and said how much they loved having Shelter children and how Gaia had told them they could still be wonderful parents, even though Sheba didn’t need them any more. Then Nimma had made echinacea tea, and as they were drinking it she told them that because they had lost Sheba, IMBOD had given Klor his mechatronic leg, which would otherwise have been far too expensive. And Klor had said that when he had accepted the leg he and Nimma had also accepted the challenge of being Or co-founders, moving here as soon as IMBOD had made the dry forest safe again. So that had explained that. Then Nimma was quiet again and Klor had said, ‘It’s better we all know, isn’t it, darlings? Better that we all miss Sheba together. That’s what makes us a Shelter family.’ And Nimma had sniffed and said she hoped Yoki and Meem would sleep tonight, but what was done was done.

Astra had felt better then, for a while. Now, though, looking out over the roof, she felt those small cold flowers blossoming on her skin again. She was afraid, she realised. And she had been scared in the kitchen too: not, like Yoki, of a bus-bomber, but because it was frightening to see Klor weep. That autumn afternoon, talking to the visitors, he had been tall and
glorious, a priest of Gaia, and then suddenly he was broken, hiding his face and gagging for air. She never wanted to see him like that again.

Frost petals were scaling her body now. Today, she realised, she was maybe going to do something that might make Klor very angry. If she did it and kept it secret from him, if he ever found out, he might think she didn’t love him. Would Klor cry, she wondered, if she didn’t have the shot and one day he discovered the truth?

Between the mountains the sky was slowly turning the colour of a robin’s eggshell.
No
, she thought, staring at the long rows of fertile soil soaking up the sun’s heat,
not if I’m a famous scientist
. Then Klor might be angry, but he would be proud too. He wouldn’t cry if she was a top Coder when she grew up, like Hokma and him: Klor definitely wouldn’t cry then.