Child of Earth (10 page)

The Doberson argument lasted most of the month, and a few times people got so angry they leapt out of their chairs and almost started fighting. And not everybody was against the Dobersons either. The Kellys and the O'Hares stood up and defended Jim Doberson's right to believe in God as he saw fit. That wasn't surprising, because those three families stuck together on a lot of things anyway.

Novotny didn't say much during the arguments, except to correct someone's grammar or yell at him about his
nyet kulturny
accent. Sometimes someone would ask for help with a word; sometimes he told him, but more often he just shook his head because there wasn't such a word on Linnea.

Eventually the argument just died away with no resolution at all. Nobody had convinced anybody, and everybody was tired of fighting. A
few people asked Novotny to settle it; but Novotny only said, “You've already agreed to the agreement. Why do you argue with it now?” And after a while, most of us got it. After you get on the boffili, don't complain about the smell. I got a point for saying that one in class. About a week after that, the Dobersons quit the program; the Kellys and the O'Hares stayed on, but they wouldn't talk about God anymore, at least not where anyone else could hear, so everyone figured they'd probably gotten the point about learning to think Linnean.

Not every discussion was that angry; most of them were sort of funny. One conversation, we all got angry about the clothes. How come the Linneans hadn't learned how to soften linen? How come they weren't cultivating cotton? We knew they had it. How come—?

That time, there was a scout named Zindre visiting the class. She was tall and had red hair and a great smile. She was beautiful; I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She said that the Linneans
wanted
to cultivate cotton, but the weevils were more ferocious on Linnea than on Earth. Science Division was working on a weevil-specific parasite to destroy the bugs, but Cultural Division said that if cotton became practical before industrialization, it would further the institution of slavery, and we weren't ready to give these folks the tools for industrialization, so we couldn't give them cotton either. So we couldn't have underwear that didn't itch. That's when three more families dropped out. I don't think it was the underwear; I think it was because they wouldn't be allowed to invent, not without permission. Besides, I knew that Rinky was already studying how to make grass-silk, because I was helping her in my free time.

I almost asked if we could quit too, that's how much the underwear itched, and that's how little progress Rinky was making, but that's when they started teaching all the kids how to groom and feed and care for the great-horses. We went out every afternoon—we had to groom them in teams of six, they were so big—and I didn't want to stop doing that, because I'd fallen in love with Mountain and Thunder and Jumbo. So I solved the problem my own way. I stopped wearing underwear.

But all that was only the beginning. The
real
argument was still to come, and that one did turn nasty.

MERDE

WE WERE WASHING THUNDER, six of us—more than that and we got in each other's way—and Tildie was acting like a skizzy, throwing wet sponges at the rest of us and laughing when we howled at the cold water. Jaxin, who was the young scout in charge, told him to stop, but he didn't. And finally Tildie hit Jaxin right in the back of the neck and Jaxin lost his temper. He turned around and said, “Tildie! If you don't stop fooling around, you'll have to leave! And it'll cost you and your family points!”

Tildie looked startled. Nobody in his family ever talked that sternly to him. Mosty they indulged him like he was some kind of little princess. He was always talking about all the things he had at home, and how his daddy was going to let him be a girl before they moved over, and how rich they were, with real servants instead of robots, and stuff like that. So when Jaxin threatened him with loss of points, he just stood there, with dripping sponges in his hands, and instead of saying, “I apologize, Jaxin. I did a stupid thing,” he got real snotty-defiant and said, “You can't talk to me like that.”

Jaxin didn't answer. He put down his grooming brushes and walked around to the corner of Thunder's stall where there was a big steaming mound of fresh manure. It looked like he'd forgotten all about Tildie. He scooped up as much of the manure as he could in both hands, came back to Tildie and
dropped
it on his head, rubbing it into his hair and all over his face and neck and shoulders. Tildie howled. Everybody
groaned at the yickiness of it, but we laughed too, because Tildie really deserved it.

Tildie didn't know whether to cry or get angry or what. He just stood there and spluttered. “You stupid doody-head!”

Jaxin said, “Actually, you're the doody-head.” And then he turned around to the rest of us. “Anyone else want to be a doody-head? No? Well, the horses still have to be groomed, so get back to work.”

“That's—that's
child abuse
,” said Tildie, shouting at Jaxin's back. He had to pause long enough to make up the word before he could say it. “I'm going to tell.”

“No, that's
not
‘child abuse,'” Jaxin answered quietly, repeating Tildie's awkward invention in the Linnean language. “It's horse shit. And I've got plenty more where that came from. Now get your butt up that ladder and help scrub this horse.”

“No. I'm going to the showers!” Tildie said.

“You walk out of here before your work is done and you'll forfeit your points, Tildie. And you can't afford to lose any more.”

“I don't care,” Tildie said. And walked out. Jaxin shrugged and pulled his phone from his pocket.

About fifteen minutes later, two of Tildie's moms came screaming out to the stables. They were so angry, they were talking in their native French—which Jaxin pretended he didn't understand. I knew he did, but there was a rule: if you didn't talk in Linnean, nobody had to listen or reply. But that didn't stop them from talking. The only word I understood was
merde
.

Jaxin was still up on the ladder, brushing Thunder's mane. Great-horses tend to be shaggy anyway, but during winter months, their coats get thick and matted and they need to be brushed almost every day. It wasn't until one of Tildie's moms began shaking his ladder that he looked down and said,
“Speak in Linnean or I'll put you on report!”

“To hell with Linnean! And to hell with you!” she said in perfect English. Apparently, she believed English was only good for swearing. Or maybe she thought Jaxin didn't speak French. “You're fired!” she said. “Do you hear me? You go pack your things! You're out of a job, you cretinous little weasel!”

She and the other one flapped off, like a couple of goblin-birds, shrieking all the way. They headed off in the general direction of the Administration offices. Jaxin just shook his head. “All right, everyone. Back to work. Thunder stamps her feet because she wants us to finish today.”

Neither Tildie nor anybody from his family was at dinner that night. There were empty places all over the room. Gamma said that some of the families were
having a meeting
. The way she said it, it sounded very important. After dinner, mosty the kids went off to the theater to look at the latest news from Linnea, but tonight the regular evening Meeting promised to be more interesting, so I went there instead.

Tildie's moms were all there, looking like a row of gargoyles. They had their arms folded and their jaws stuck out and their eyes were blazing. Rinky whispered to me, “Medusa and her sisters are here,” and we both giggled, which got us a dirty look from Mom-Lu.

Chief Administor Moffin came in to lead the Meeting. He didn't always do that, only when the subject was important. It was pretty obvious that whatever else had been planned, tonight's Meeting was going to be about horse manure.

Administor Moffin spoke in fluent Linnean, and several times he had to be reminded to speak slower so the rest of us could understand him. He said, “Some of you may have heard about the disobedience at the stables today. The Cretonne family has registered a protest with my office and I've asked the Scout Training Board to review the circumstances.” I glanced over at Tildie's moms. They looked smug, as if they were about to be awarded some kind of a prize.

“The Board has reviewed the video and found that Scout Cadet Jaxin's actions were ... entirely appropriate for the circumstance.” This provoked yelps of surprise and outrage all over the room. Moffin rang his bell for silence. He had to ring it several times before the room quieted down. It was a big heavy thing and it had a very sharp clang.

He glanced around sternly. “First, let me remind you that we will speak only in Linnean here. Second, we will follow the customs of your intended Linnean subculture.
Acting as a Linnean horse trainer
, Cadet Jaxin responded entirely in character to the insubordination and defiance of trainee Tilden Cretonne. The Scout Board has put a commendation into his record.”

“A commendation?” Marie Cretonne came shrieking to her feet. “For abusing my child?!”

“He did what any Linnean horse trainer would have done. He had not only the right, but the
responsibility
as well to punish the child according to Linnean law.”

“But this isn't Linnea!” She spoke in English. “This is Earth, and Earth laws apply, and I demand an Earth court.”

“Speak in Linnean,”
he reminded her.

She looked flustered, then rephrased her comments. “We have not yet crossed over to Linnea. We still live on Earth. Therefore Earth laws apply.”

Administor Moffin shook his head. “No. Please reread your contract. Perhaps you've forgotten that you agreed to abide by Linnean standards when you moved into this dome. Regardless of any other consideration, Linnean custom, law and tradition reign as the sole authority
in here
. Legally, you are already on Linnean soil. Now, sit down.” Something about the way he said it—they sat.

Moffin looked back to his notes. “Additionally, the Scout Board recommends a loss of fifty work points for Tilden Cretonne as penalty for his refusal to accept the authority of Cadet Jaxin.” More outraged yelps from the gargoyles, quickly stifled. “—And the loss of another hundred work points levied against Janine and Marie Cretonne for refusing to speak Linnean when ordered to by Cadet Jaxin.” He peered over his glasses at the Cretonnes. “For the moment, I have ignored the outbursts of English in this room. I do not have to. If I hear any more English or French words, I will levy additional penalties.” Marie Cretonne opened her mouth, thought better, and sat down again.

Administor Moffin saw that and nodded, then he glared around the room at everybody else. “Understand this,” he said. “No matter what happens in this dome, no matter who does what to whom,
you will respond as Linneans!
You will think and act like Linneans at all times. Your lives depend on it. The lives of the people around you depend on it. The lives of countless people you have never met will depend on your ability to represent yourselves as native Linneans. If you cannot make and keep this commitment, my office will be open all night tonight and all day tomorrow for the acceptance of resignations. Any family choosing to resign may do so. We will levy appropriate financial penalties, of course. I will now adjourn this meeting.” He rang his bell one more time and walked out of the room.

Tildie's parents were the first ones out the door after him. And several other families followed without saying a word. I looked over at our moms and they were shaking their heads sadly. Some of the other parents whispered together. Some just sat sternly by themselves.

The next day, Tildie's family was gone, and so were two other families, including Jik and Jin and their parents.

We talked about it at home for a long time too. The fact that we understood all the whats and the whys didn't reassure us. While it sort of meant that we were finally learning to think like Linneans a little bit, it
also meant that we were leaving behind our Earth feelings too. And Big Jes, who usually made all of us laugh, was the saddest of all because up until now, he hadn't given much thought to how much we were leaving behind. So things were plenty grim for the next week or two while folks sorted out how they felt about that.

And meanwhile, three more families bailed out. They said, “They have too much money invested in us. They can't afford to have too many families quit. They need us. They'll call us back.” That's what they believed anyway. We knew we wouldn't be seeing them again. Not here, and certainly not on Linnea. You either agreed to the agreements or you didn't.

A CHOICE

I DIDN'T MISS TILDIE ALL THAT MUCH, but Jik and Jin were fun, and I was sorry to see them go. I asked Mom-Woo if we were going to quit too. She said no. Morra and Irm and Bhetto wouldn't let us. And that made Mom-Lu and Mom-Trey laugh.

Mom-Woo explained, “When we move over to Linnea, they get all the money and property we leave behind. They can hardly wait to see us go. But they have to go through the training with us; that's part of the contract.”

“In case they change their minds and decide to come with?”

“That's not likely, but yes, in case they change their minds.”

“I'm still going to miss Jik and Jin.”

“I'll miss them too, sweetheart. But they might not be out of the program yet. They might transfer to another dome and start training for one of the barren worlds. Or they might come back here. They have a threemonth cooling off period to recommit to their agreements. The Authority doesn't lock people out; they either choose to be here or not.”