Child of Earth (15 page)

Klin and Cindy folded the table down from the left side of the wagon, and Rinky and Parra and I put out the tea things: mugs, salt, pepperrinds, tea and tea-strainers. Gampa lit the lanterns, one after the other, and hung them overhead.

I didn't sit at my usual place. I sat next to Aunt Morra, my way of showing her I was glad she had spoken up, no matter how many points it had cost us. Morra surprised me by putting her arm around my shoulder and whispering into my ear. “Don't you fret, sweetheart. We'll take just so much and then we won't take anymore.”

Mom-Woo overheard and looked at Morra grimly. “Don't encourage the children, Morra. We have enough trouble as it is.” She brought the boiling pot to the table and began spooning tea leaves into it. One by one, the other adults finished peeing or pooping into the compost pit, finished washing and came to the table. Gamma and Mom-Lu filled tea mugs, and Parra and Cindy started passing them around. Even though no one said anything, I felt so bad about everything, I just wanted to run off into the hills and die. But Aunt Morra still had her arm firmly
around my shoulder, so I couldn't go anywhere at all; so instead I just leaned into her and buried my face in her side, pretending I didn't exist anymore.

After a bit the grown-ups started talking, gently at first, easing their way into the subject, and Morra nudged me upright. “No hiding out,” she whispered. So I reached out and pulled my tea mug close and stared down into it instead. The salty aroma comforted me. Linnean tea was more like soup than tea. I liked it more than Earth tea.

Across from me, on the other side of the table, Lorrin hunched over his mug too. He glowered diagonally across at Irm. He wasn't angry at anyone here. He was just angry. “Do you still feel the same way, Irm? Do you still think this is such a good idea for us? I can't help but wonder, what have we gotten ourselves into?”

Irm rolled his own cup back and forth between his hands, as if warming his fingers. “I suspect that this conversation will occur in many homes tonight, around many tables.” Around us, the howling of the wind had grown. Authority had begun simulating the beginning of winter, and it was a very convincing simulation. I kept my boffili robe wrapped tight around me. Irm said thoughtfully, “What we had before, we still have tonight. We have our family. What we choose to do next, we will still have what we have tonight. Each other.” And then he added. “The decision belongs to you, Lorrin—and everyone else who crosses over.”

Mom-Woo sat down at the head of the table, indicating that she would take charge of this family meeting. Parra and Cindy finished handing out mugs of tea and took their places down at the foot of the table. They looked strangely silent too.

Bhetto, who hardly ever spoke at family meetings, spoke up first. He said, “I agree with Irm. The decision does not belong to those who will stay behind. But I will tell you this, Lorrin. The more we learn about Linnea, the more I worry. The natural dangers, we all knew those coming in: the kacks, the razor grass, the long winters, the boffili, the range fires, the flooding ... all of that. You believed you could handle it. I believed it too. And every day, as they told us of each new threat we might encounter, we included those dangers in the challenge, confident that we could expand our commitment to meet them. But now, we hear that the natural realm represents only the smallest threat compared to the people of Linnea—and I candidly confess that now I worry what other dangers await that they still haven't told us yet.” He spoke in Linnean, with flawless rhythm. I actually began to wish that Irm and Bhetto and Morra would come with us.

Cindy, who also didn't speak much at meetings, raised a hand to respond. Mom-Woo nodded, and Cindy, rubbing his new beard thoughtfully, said, “You make good points, Bhetto—but if you stay behind, you won't share those risks, and as Irm just said, whatever risks obtain on Linnea, they belong only to those who choose to cross over. We have to make this decision ourselves, don't we?”

Bhetto agreed. “Yes, Cindy. I know that. But perhaps the time has come for the family to consider an alternative. You know what I mean. We don't have to cross over, and we can still stay a part of this world. Other families have done it—they've chosen to stay on this side as trainers and teachers and reviewers of the material beamed back from the monitors. We could do that, all of us, and we could stay together.” Bhetto added quietly, “Sometimes, I feel as if you've already left. And I miss you so terribly. If we stayed here, we wouldn't ever have to say good-bye.”

“Thank you, Bhetto,” said Lorrin. He reached across the table and patted the older man's hand. “We all appreciate that. But ... you know we can't just stop halfway. We set a goal for ourselves. If we won't commit ourselves passionately, and if we don't make a full-out effort, we'll never know what we could have accomplished. And like Morra and Irm have already said—this family cannot survive the stench of a festering dream.”

“Well said, Lorrin, as always. But perhaps the family should take another look at this dream. It looked far better in the wanting than in the having.”

“The doing, however—” said Morra, surprising us all. “The doing has changed us all for the better. And if we abandon the dream, we risk losing what we've all built together. A closer family.”

Bhetto blinked. “But, Morra, I haven't advocated abandonment at all—only that we consider a different realization of the same goal, one that allows us greater freedom and comfort.”

“We all understand, Bhetto.” Mom-Woo came and sat down beside him. “You don't want to lose us. And we don't want to lose you either. We love you too. And we all of us have days when we look at you and Morra and Irm and the tears fill our eyes because we know there will come a day when we'll have to say good-bye and then we'll never see you again. We'll have messages, yes, as often as we can. But ... messages don't give hugs.” And with that, she put her arms around Bhetto and held him close, and they both wept quietly in each other's arms.

Watching, I felt good about that. So did the rest of the family. We
waited in silence until they broke apart, both wiping their eyes at the same time, and then both laughing gently at each other's tears. Mom-Woo reached across and touched Bhetto's cheek gently, and I realized suddenly that Da-Lorrin had not been her first husband. Finally she turned to the rest of us. “Well, get on with the discussion,” she snapped; but I noticed that she sat close to Bhetto for the rest of the evening, holding his hand in hers.

That's when I whispered to Aunt Morra, “I wish you'd change your mind and go with us. I'll miss you. And I like the way you teach. You make the math fun.”

An expression of surprise crept across Morra's face. “Why, Kaer, what a wonderful thing to say.”

“Come with us? Please? I'll miss you terribly if you don't.” Impulsively, I hugged her. I don't remember ever hugging her before.

Morra blinked back sudden tears. “Oh, sweetheart. I wish I could, but you know I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because—just because.”

“You can change your mind, can't you?”

Morra looked helplessly across to Mom-Woo. “Can you explain it to her?”

Mom-Woo spoke quickly and quietly, as if this was a subject she did not want to discuss at length. “Kaer, someone has to stay behind to take care of the family's property here. Morra and Irm and Bhetto will do that. If they don't stay, who will take care of our resources?”

“The Kellys hired a company to do that for them. Why can't we?”

“Because we arranged it this way. And we can't change it.” She gave me a
drop-this-discussion
look.

Down the table, Lorrin nodded his agreement. “We can't change it. What you said—we've already jumped off this cliff. So let's not have a discussion about whether we want to or not. That'll take us nowhere useful, and we'll still hit the same bottom. More important, we need to consider what we can do in the situation we have.”

He lowered his mug to the table and traced out his thoughts methodically. “We've all studied our history. We know about repressive societies and witch-hunts. We know they can't last long. It goes in cycles. And we'll find safety away from the cities anyway, so I think we can minimize the risks, if we take care.” Big Jes and Klin and Parra nodded their agreement. Klin looked like he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head; it wasn't necessary to say it. Lorrin put his hand over Klin's
anyway, a signal of reassurance or partnership. “No,” he said. “I have more serious worries about something closer to home—the goings-on in this dome.”

At that, Mom-Woo glanced up meaningfully—at the imaginary ceiling. Her eyes scanned the table, the great-wagon and the surrounding equipment, as if to include them all in everybody's awareness. Nobody knew if the Administor monitored private conversations, but we'd all seen the monitor bugs and we knew how they worked. And we knew that the administors had the right to observe us whatever we did—even going to the bathroom. So we all assumed that the monitors listened all the time and we didn't talk about forbidden things.

Some of the kids assumed that we were safe when we were all swimming naked in the lake. If we were naked, we were away from any monitors that might be woven into our clothes. But we had implants under our skin, and some of us were sure the implants were voice-monitors too. So after a while, we just sort of watched each other and made pointy-fingers whenever anyone said anything they shouldn't.

But Lorrin had little fear of monitor bugs tonight. He said, “Let them hear. So what? If they have monitors here, then they already know how we feel and what we think. We've always been candid in the past, so let them hear that we have concerns and worries tonight—not just about Linnea, but about the way they treat us too.” He glanced around. “Does anyone object?”

No one did. “Go on, Lorrin,” said Gampa.

Lorrin took a breath. He took another swallow of tea, then pushed it forward for Mom-Woo to refill. I knew that he was considering how to phrase his words in Linnean. Sometimes it was still difficult for us. Finally he said, “The administors have created a repressive society of their own here. Yes, they do it for our own good, but still ... we live in a world of witch-hunts, informers and totalitarian authority. The administors say that they do this to protect us—and they certainly mean well. Maybe when we get to the other side, we'll better appreciate the strictness of the regimen here....

“But even when I consider all of the mitigating circumstances, I still can't let go of the anger I feel at the way Administor Rance treated Kaer tonight. Over a piece of chocolate cake? A goddamn piece of chocolate cake?” Lorrin glanced up to the imaginary ceiling. “Take the goddamn fifty points, Administor Rance. At least you know how I feel now!”

Irm reached over and patted his arm. “We all feel that way.”

“And we all sat there in silence and let Administor Rance get away
with it! Didn't we? Have we given up all common sense? Would we let a Linnean administor treat Kaer that way? I don't think so. Indeed, would a Linnean administor even act that way?” And then Lorrin realized something. I could see the look of realization on his face. And so could everybody else.

When Lorrin spoke again, he spoke in English. “Yes, we
are
being monitored. We all know it. But who watches the monitors? Are there that many Linnean-speaking folk in the dome? I don't think so. And I think that those who are here have much more important things to do than eavesdrop on us all the time.

“Yes, we're being monitored—but if we are to use the monitoring of Linnea as a model, then it is the intelligence engines who are listening to us now. They'll flag any serious conversation for review. But who does the reviewing? The trainers? I don't think so. Authority probably has a whole division set up to review anything the intelligence engines spit out. Do the people in that division speak Linnean? I don't think so. They probably depend on translations. But I'll bet that any conversation in English is automatically flagged and reviewed....” He let that sink in for a moment as he glanced around the table. “It's late. They might not hear this conversation until the day shift comes in tomorrow morning and the intelligence engine plays it back for them. Or the night shift might be listening to us right now. The question that I'm wondering about is this:
do they know that the way we're being treated violates the Singapore Convention?
And if so, do they know that no person is allowed to sign away his Singapore Rights, no matter what? And do they also know that anyone with knowledge of a Singapore Rights violation is required by law to report it?” He glanced up at the imaginary ceiling and grinned. Probably nothing would come of what he said, but just as likely Administor Rance would have a couple of uncomfortable moments. And just as possible, we could be expelled tomorrow for not getting with the program.... It was a very dangerous gambit. Even I recognized that. Nobody wanted to respond immediately.

Lorrin finished his tea noisily and made a great show of refilling his cup. He knew that every eye was on him. I could tell that Mom-Woo was annoyed because of the way her mouth tightened. She waited until his cup was filled and he was making a great show of enjoying it, before she spoke herself. And when she did, she spoke in English too. “Lorrin, thank you for that performance. It was very clever. But now let's turn our attention back to the subject at hand. And please—
let's all resume speaking in Linnean
.” She even finished her sentence in Linnean. It gave
me an odd feeling to hear English again, and then when she shifted so effortlessly back into Linnean I felt like my brain had been thinking in two separate places. I wondered if that was the “paradigm shift” that Administor Moffin used to talk about.