Read China Mountain Zhang Online
Authors: Maureen F. McHugh
China Mountain Zhang (15 page)
“Let me get to that separator,” he says.
When he is finished he says he has to get back, has to get up early the next day and all, but he does stay for the beer, sitting in my living room with the little environment unit. “I can’t fix it,” he says, “it’s all fused inside.”
“Have you heard anything more?” I ask.
“About being reassigned? No.” His voice is soft and curiously flat. “But I’ve talked to some of the other guys and they think that the Commune probably wouldn’t send Theresa to the pole.”
I am relieved, I wanted to deny that anything could go so wrong, and now I learn that I was probably right. “I think that’s true,” I say.
“So I’d probably go on a two-year assignment and she’d stay with the creche. That’s not so bad, I haven’t been much of a father. It’s just that the separation is bad for her, she’s already withdrawn and immature—at least that’s what all the counselors say. She’s shy, but so was her mother and after all the moving around … .”
“They wouldn’t send you and leave her here,” I blurt out.
He shrugs. “They’ll say it’s temporary and that some sacrifices have to be made to open up Mars. I hate to leave her, when I came back from Africa she didn’t know who I was and then she had tremendous separation anxiety.” His soft voice goes on and on and I discover that the flatness is really bitterness.
I didn’t ask you to come here, I am thinking. I didn’t ask you and your daughter to stop for a drink of water. And at the same time I am understanding why he takes her with him when he goes to New Arizona. He talks about temper tantrums in the creche when he leaves. I think of her behavior yesterday, when she was upset, the tantrums and tears.
Finally he doesn’t say anything more. The silence is thick, but I can’t think of anything to say into it. He finishes his beer and says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump my troubles on you like that.” But he’s only apologizing because he’s supposed to, when he leaves he looks around my house, and then he looks at me as if he hates me. It’s not fair, I am thinking, I worked for this. My life wasn’t easy either. I don’t walk him down to the pull-off where the motor scooter is parked.
When I go to bed and set the alarm for five, I realize that I forgot to thank him for reprogramming my separator.
McKenzie comes Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday to pick up milk. She gossips a bit, I look forward to her coming. She helped me impregnate my nannies. (My billies are just company for my nannies, I get seed from earth.) I tell her about Alexi reprogramming my separator.
“Would he do it for someone else?”
“Sure, he doesn’t have a business. It would help him generate credit for when he’s assigned a plot.” Actually I have no idea if Alexi would do it.
McKenzie has wild curly hair and a stub of a nose. She brushes her hair back. “Nearly everyone who has goats has a separator programmed for cows,” she says. “I bet a lot of them would love to have their systems converted.”
“I’ll ask him and let you know,” I say. Then, because the subject of the Dormovs makes me uncomfortable I ask her about the last council meeting.
“Boring. I’m stepping down, I’m sick of it. I don’t know where they’re going to find a landholding newcomer to take my place.” She starts the pump and my milk is drawn into her tank as we talk. “It’s nothing but a headache,” she says. I’ve told her this for years.
The council is twelve people; by common consent, six are people from before the shutdown, those who went through the Cleansing Winds (including Aron Fahey who is sort of unofficial head) and six are from after. I’m one of the oldest newcomers, they used to ask me to be on.
“Maybe I should serve a term,” I say.
McKenzie laughs, and then looks at me quizzically when I’m not laughing. “Martine,” she says, “you’re not serious?”
“Well, if it’s not me it’ll be that horse’s ass Waters.” Lilith butts me and I reach down and fondle her long, leaf-shaped ears. She spreads her legs to brace and lowers her head a bit in pleasure. Maybe I should get a cat, I’ve got a family of mice in my garden. Some things come from earth whether you want them or not. “Do you know anyone whose cat is going to have kittens?”
“Sure, I’ll bring you a cat. Are you really going to run for council?”
“Maybe,” I say. “Bring me a calico, if you can.” Calicos are usually female. McKenzie asks me why I’d serve and I tell her I guess that I can’t keep letting other people do all of the dirty work. Which isn’t true, I could go the rest of my life and let them worry about who gets how much land and air and water. When she leaves I go back to the garden and check the CO
2
levels in the air. I open the dome and the normally blue sky is red with the violence of a dust storm. The sand shushes softly against the dome.
2
levels in the air. I open the dome and the normally blue sky is red with the violence of a dust storm. The sand shushes softly against the dome.
Alexi Dormov, I’m doing something. That will wipe out the anger that was in your face when you left last night. I’ll deny that I’m joining council to help you and Theresa, but you’ll know. You’ll be grateful, aware that you misjudged me. I feel a surge
of self-righteous anger, how dare you look at me and think that I have it soft.
of self-righteous anger, how dare you look at me and think that I have it soft.
At the same time I know that I’m being the perfect martyr. “You’re pathetic,” I say out loud. Who is this Alexi Dormov that his opinion matters so much? I’m angry all morning, and I make the mistake of working with the bees. Sure enough, I get stung.
I don’t see Alexi and Theresa for awhile. I talk to him by transmitter and thank him for fixing my separator, but it’s a hectic week. Two air leaks, and that means the next council meeting they’ll have to decide if the problem warrants an investigation. Three of my larvae hatch into queens and I box them and send them north to Calhoun to a woman named Jessup who does a little bee-keeping. Calhoun is out of the sector so she won’t compete with my honey sales. My nannies start dropping kids and that means a lot of interrupted sleep. Cleo drops a nannie-kid. So do Hai-hong and Machina Jones. Angela and Lilith drop billies. I’ll get rid of the billies as soon as they’re weaned; someone else can raise them for slaughter, I’m a dairy operation. McKenzie brings me a tiger-striped female kitten, and it cries all night for the first four nights. It sounds like a baby and I grit my teeth and stumble around half-awake all day while it sleeps curled up in the strawberries.
And there is the council meeting. I haven’t been to a council meeting in years. They hold them in the Commune cafeteria at the long hour on Thursday nights. I don’t know who decided that since the martian day is thirty-seven minutes and twenty-three seconds longer than the earth day we should have the hour from eight to nine P.M. last one hour thirty-seven minutes and twenty-three seconds. If we’re going to have a long hour I’d rather have it in the morning. But it’s a bureaucrat’s dream, an hour and thirty-seven minutes to have an hour meeting.
The cafeteria is red and gold. Across the back wall are the
words “The force at the core of the People is the Revolution” in English and Chinese characters. At least I suppose that’s what it says in Chinese but it could say “Western Barbarians Have No Revolutionary Spine” for all I know. It’s been there since the days of the Cleansing Winds campaign and nobody really likes it but nobody really has the nerve to suggest we take it out.
words “The force at the core of the People is the Revolution” in English and Chinese characters. At least I suppose that’s what it says in Chinese but it could say “Western Barbarians Have No Revolutionary Spine” for all I know. It’s been there since the days of the Cleansing Winds campaign and nobody really likes it but nobody really has the nerve to suggest we take it out.
The meeting is opened and they discuss the problem of Aron Fahey’s eldest girl who is twenty and has applied for a plot of her own. It seems to me that she should just go on the list like any newcomer but there is some question about whether the work she has done with Chen, her mother, qualifies her for any work credit or if that work goes to Aron and Chen’s household. After twenty-five minutes of discussion they decide she should go on the list like any newcomer. It’s almost eight-thirty. I usually go to bed around eight-sixty.
The meeting drags on, trivializing anything it touches. They talk about the two air leaks and decide not to investigate, but to put a note on the next calendar to see if there has been an unusual number between this month and next. That takes fifteen minutes.
Philippa makes a report stating that the Commune has been asked to come up with five people to send to the water reclamation project at the pole for two years. I sit up. Aron asks that a committee be formed to look into the matter and report back with a list of names for next month. He asks for volunteers. I stand.
“Martine,” he says, “you wish to be recognized?”
“No, Aron,” I say, “I wish to volunteer.”
Aron Fahey looks perplexed and strokes his brown beard. “All right. Anyone else?”
No one else volunteers. Finally Philippa says she’ll be on the committee, and Aron browbeats Cord into saying he’ll join.
Then he nods at McKenzie who has been frowning at me. She stands and announces that she’ll be stepping down next meeting and that the seat is open. I stand again.
“Martine?” Aron says, sounding anxious.
“I would like to announce that I am interested in taking McKenzie’s seat.” I sit down. Then it occurs to me that this sounds peremptory so I stand, “Unless the Commune finds someone who would be better suited, of course.” I sit back down. My face is calm, my knees are shaking.
“Okay, it’s on the record. If there’s no further business?” Aron dismisses the meeting. It’s eight-seventy-five.
McKenzie makes her way over to me. “Martine,” she says, “Martine.” And when she has my elbow, “Why this sudden interest in politics?”
“Maybe I’m tired of having no one to talk to but goats,” I say.
“And whose fault is that?” she says.
“Obviously I’m not going to disagree with you.”
It is four-thirty in the afternoon and I’m in the kitchen weighing the kids on my kitchen scale when my transmitter clicks open and Alexi says, “Hello, anybody home?”
“Yeah,” I say, “what’s up?”
“Theresa and I are on our way to New Arizona on a run and we thought we’d stop and say hello.”
“You’re at the pull-off?”
“Right.”
“Just come on in, I’m in the kitchen.”
“What’s that noise?”
The noise is the clatter of Theresa-the-goat and one of the billies’ hooves tapping against the tiles on my kitchen floor. “Come in and see,” I say.
I stay in the kitchen, but I am bursting with things to say; about the chance to start his own business adapting the programs on other people’s separators, about the council meeting.
“Hello,” Alexi says from the doorway, “the door was open—oh, my, Little Heart, look at this.”
Theresa pokes past his legs and sees the kids. I am weighing
one, two are standing in the middle of the floor. They stand and the little billy waggles his head. Theresa kneels down, amazed. Then the kids bleat and wheel and bolt under the kitchen table. I take the one I have out of the bag I put them in to weigh them and put her on the floor. She scrabbles as I put her down and jets directly towards Theresa then realizes her mistake. She tries to veer, slides into the wall with a thump and bleats. The two under the table answer back and she scrambles to her feet and joins them.
one, two are standing in the middle of the floor. They stand and the little billy waggles his head. Theresa kneels down, amazed. Then the kids bleat and wheel and bolt under the kitchen table. I take the one I have out of the bag I put them in to weigh them and put her on the floor. She scrabbles as I put her down and jets directly towards Theresa then realizes her mistake. She tries to veer, slides into the wall with a thump and bleats. The two under the table answer back and she scrambles to her feet and joins them.
“What’s this?” I say, “new clothes?”
Theresa is wearing a yellow shirt and a pair of pale blue coveralls. She has barrettes shaped like rabbits. The difference is amazing.
“They let me have my first draw,” Alexi says, over the sound of goats.
“I didn’t know you were earning credit,” I say.
“Newcomers earn a luxury allowance,” he says. “I finally earned enough to get something. I got them a little big, so she can grow a bit.” His voice is a little questioning, looking for approval.
“That’s good,” I say. I’ve never bought clothes for a little girl in my life—ask me about goats, I know a lot about goats.
“Well, we can’t stay long, we’re supposed to be on the way to New Arizona. He shifts from one foot to the other. He’s still in the utility coveralls the Commune issues and since he’s small, they’re too big.
“I’m glad you came by,” I say. “Listen, I was talking to McKenzie, she picks up the milk delivery, and she thinks that a lot of people would be interested in having you adapt their separator programs. It would help you earn some credit, you could use credit when you get your own place.”
“Okay,” he says, “’Resa, we’ve got to be going.”
She is halfway under the table and doesn’t pay much attention. I am surprised at how blase he is about my suggestion.
“I’m sure that there’s more than separators that need to be
adapted, you could probably get quite a little business started.”
adapted, you could probably get quite a little business started.”
He nods pleasantly. I bite off the impulse to add that my honey business has made all the difference, paid for all the little extras in this house.
“Have you heard anymore about reassignment?” I ask.
“No, just that they’ve got some sort of committee to handle it. Theresa, come out of there, we have to go.”
“I’m on the committee,” I say, sharply.
“What?
You are?”
he says, and I feel as if I really have his attention for the first time since he walked in. “Why?”
You are?”
he says, and I feel as if I really have his attention for the first time since he walked in. “Why?”
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