Crewel (18 page)

‘They groomed women for this duty, but I believe some men might be able to do the work,’ she says, cocking her eyebrow suggestively.

‘But why give such an important job to us?’ I ask, my annoyance showing in the sarcastic tone of my voice. ‘Why leave it to women?’

‘The Guild can control women better.’ Loricel sees me start to protest and holds her hand up to stop me. ‘Whether you like it or not, they do a damn good job of controlling us.’

Resentment toward the officials and Cormac and Maela and everyone who plays a part in this charade burns through me. ‘Who was this scientist from Earth?’

‘His name and the names of all those of Earth have passed from our collective memory. His real contribution was allowing for a peaceful resolution to the war.’

‘You’re telling me Arras doesn’t want to celebrate the genius of the man who created it?’ I ask, remembering the number of holidays reserved in honour of officials who have made much smaller contributions.

Loricel sighs, and gives me a frown. ‘Don’t be stupid, Adelice. You know they clean and alter. If they think information is too risky to Arras’s stability, they remove it. The Guild doesn’t want the citizenry to question the looms, and they especially don’t want people to know about Earth. My grandmother confided to me that a long time ago she took an oath of loyalty to Arras to keep our family safe. I didn’t realise until I came here and began apprenticing to the Creweler that it was really an oath of secrecy. It was the only way to survive the war they left behind – to promise to keep Arras’s secret. But that wasn’t enough for the Guild. I assisted in the cleaning of the information from the collective memory.’

‘Why?’ I demand. ‘If they can’t do these things without you, why do you do them?’

‘Because no one else will. I can’t alter all of Arras alone. Like it or not, and believe me, I
do not
, the relationship of Crewelers and the Guild is symbiotic. We cannot do our work without the bureaucracy and aid of the Guild. I won’t risk a war, not after the lengths we took to end the last one. Arras is too fragile to withstand it, and for every man like Cormac in our world, there are a hundred innocent women and children.’ To her credit, there’s not a trace of anger or defensiveness in her voice.

‘I feel stupid,’ I say, ‘but how did creating Arras end the war? Didn’t we just drag our problems here?’ Now that I understand how Arras came to be, I’m not sure I buy the careful regulations-only-ensure-safety story any more.

‘Arras was created, and its leaders came together to form the Guild of Twelve Nations. The population has been carefully monitored and the coventries established to maintain peace and prosperity. The Guild, while inefficient and often cruel, coordinates these efforts.’

‘And all these men at war on Earth? They just made peace?’

Approval glints in Loricel’s eyes. ‘Of course not. Arras consists of the twelve nations from Earth that believed they could control and maintain the mantle while keeping the peace.’

‘But there were others?’

‘They were left on Earth with their bombs. They annihilated one another years ago.’

‘Have you seen it then? Earth?’ I ask, wondering how far Loricel’s power stretches and what she sees on these trips to the mines each year.

‘No!’ There’s the ring of amusement in her voice, but she doesn’t laugh at me. ‘I doubt there’s anything to see.’

‘But how do you know that?’ I ask softly.

A tiny flash of doubt shows in her eyes, but she pushes it away, and they grow distant again. ‘I guess I believed my mentor. What purpose would lying serve?’

I shrug and turn back to stare at the blank night sky. If there’s one thing the Coventry has taught me, it’s that lying always serves someone’s purpose.

No cosmetics. No stockings. No elaborate hair. And no clothes. I feel naked in more ways than one. The thin cotton shift they’ve given me to wear for the initial mapping has poppers up the back, leaving even less to the imagination than some of the dresses I’ve worn recently. The room’s blank white walls reflect off the polished silver instruments laid carefully on a table next to the edge of the large metal slab I’ve been sitting on for thirty minutes. My bum is chilled numb, but the time spent waiting is only winding up my mind.

A woman clad in a white coat and a hairnet bustles into the room and adjusts the slab so that it folds up on one end. She helps me lean back onto it and applies a digital medcuff to my arm. I thought I’d feel relief when it started, but there’s only dread. If the goal of this project is to make me lose my mind, then it’s been quite successful already.

‘This will monitor your heart rate and blood pressure,’ the nurse tells me, eyes on the numbers.

‘Is this dangerous?’ I ask, looking at the table of very sharp medical tools next to me.

‘Rarely. If you start to have a reaction to the procedure we’ll administer Valpron to calm you down,’ she says, with a pat on my arm.

A particularly long blade mesmerises me. I can see myself in it. ‘Will it hurt?’

‘Would you prefer Valpron now?’ she offers, but I shake my head no.

‘Dr Ellysen will be right in,’ she says, brandishing a tiny needle. ‘This will only sting for a minute.’

As the needle pricks my forearm I inhale sharply and blink against watery eyes.

‘Good girl,’ she says absently, while she places a bag of amber liquid on a rack next to me. It oozes slowly down a tube into my arm.

A very young doctor enters the room, eyes glued to his digifile. It’s a bit unnerving that he looks no older than I do, but then, with the patches available here, he may be much older than he looks.

‘Adelice, how are you feeling?’ he asks.

The doctors in Romen who did our annual health assessments were always old and grumpy. Male placements are given based on skill, and bedside manner isn’t one of the necessary qualifications. The youth of my new doctor doesn’t make him any less intimidating.

‘Fine,’ I lie. The IV in my arm unnerves me.

‘The procedure will last about two hours,’ he says, not looking up from his pad. ‘During that time you will lie still. You can sleep if you would like, or I can have Nurse Renni administer some Valpron.’

‘The patient declined,’ she whispers to him.

‘Very well,’ he says, sliding the small pad into his pocket. ‘I will be placing the mapping device over your head. It will scan various parts of your brain. During the process I will ask you questions, and it will map how your brain creates an answer.’

‘I thought you said I could sleep,’ I squeak.

‘You can,’ he assures me. ‘You’re being given a mental stimulant right now. It allows you to process information even in an unconscious state.’

I want to rip the needle out of my arm. There is no way I’m sleeping through a questioning.

‘I will be sitting in the next room observing. You will hear me through this comcuff,’ he says, hooking a small black device around my right ear. ‘Nurse Renni, can we fit the mapper?’

She nods and enters a code on the companel. Above me, the ceiling splits wide, and out of the gaping hole, two spotlights burst on. Blinking against their brightness, I watch the mapper descend. It’s a large dome, but as it comes closer I realise it’s not solid; it’s a series of connected wheels and gears so intricately bound together they appear to glide against one another. My eyes shift to the doctor ducking through the observatory door, and then to the nurse, who is checking my medcuff. As the device lowers over my head, I try to determine how it functions but a beam of green light breaks across my vision and I’m blinded.

‘It’s normal,’ the nurse murmurs next to me, fiddling with my medcuff. ‘You’ll be able to see again after the procedure is over.’

I arch up from the table and try to shove the device off my head.

‘Deep breaths, Adelice, or I’ll have to get the Valpron,’ she warns me.

This forces me to settle back into the darkness. My arms and legs tingle with the chill in the sterile room. Without my sight I feel trapped and immobile, like a fly in a spider’s web.

‘Adelice.’ The doctor’s voice sounds in my ear. ‘We’re beginning the test.’

I take a strangled breath and let it out slowly.

‘Adelice, where were you born?’

‘Romen, in the Western Sector.’

‘Good. Answer specifically like that,’ he says. ‘What were your parents’ names?’

I take another breath and answer, ‘Benn and Meria Lewys.’

‘Your father’s occupation?’

‘He was a mechanic. He worked on the Guild’s motofleet in Romen.’

‘And your mother?’

‘She was a secretary.’

‘What is your sister’s name?’

‘Amie,’ I whisper. Each time I say her name, I see the wispy curls behind her ears.

‘Please repeat.’

‘Amie,’ I say more authoritatively, pressure building in my chest.

‘Are your parents living?’

I suck in a breath and exhale my answer. ‘No,’ I lie.

‘Adelice, did you maintain purity standards before your testing?’

‘What kind of question is that?’ I demand, my hands clenching into fists.

‘Please answer the question.’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I maintained purity standards.’

As if I had a choice. Girl neighbourhoods sit on the opposite side of the metro from the boy neighbourhoods, and trips into the metro are carefully chaperoned by parents during approved movement hours. It wasn’t always like that though. My grandmother whispered stories about how things had changed since she was a girl. On my fourteenth birthday, a month before her removal, I asked her about the marriage profiles in the
Bulletin
. Girls at academy brought them to hide under their desks, taking turns passing them to one another and giggling at the pictures of the boys.

‘Why are there marriage profiles in the
Bulletin
?’ I asked her. ‘Can’t girls and boys meet in person in the metro after they turn sixteen?’

My grandmother had deep brown eyes and she turned the full force of them on me, studying me before she answered. ‘It’s not as easy these days for girls and boys to meet. Parents don’t like the chance of it, and most young people get tongue-tied when they meet the first time. ’Course –’ she chuckled a bit – ‘that’s not so different from before segregation.’

‘I never realised there was a before and after to segregation,’ I said, feeling very small under her wise gaze.

‘There’s always a before and after to everything since before humanity began,’ she said with a twist of her mouth, ‘and there’ll be an after to humans someday, too. But yes, when I was a girl. We lived together then – boys and girls. No separate neighbourhoods.’

‘Did you know grandfather then, before . . .’ My hushed voice trailed into a question. Even talking about boys seemed strange.

‘He grew up next door to me,’ she told me, widening her eyes in mock shock at the confession. ‘I think it was easier to meet the marriage requirements then. Girls didn’t marry complete strangers.’

‘But purity standards . . .’ I couldn’t finish the thought. It was too embarrassing.

‘Oh, yes, those,’ she said with a wink. ‘They were harder to keep.’

I didn’t ask her if she kept them; it seemed too personal a question, even for grandmother, and because I was really embarrassed by her wink. ‘My mom and dad were profiled though, right?’

‘Yes, our children were the first segregated generation,’ she said, and there was a trace of regret in her words.

‘But they loved each other when they got married,’ I reassured her, not understanding the sadness in her voice. ‘So it’s okay.’

‘Yes, they love each other,’ she said in a soft voice, and I felt peace settle into my chest. I didn’t ask any more questions that day. Only now do I regret the answers I lost.

‘What was your academy ranking?’ The doctor’s voice filters in over the memory, and I realise I’ve been answering the mapping questions without listening. Stupid mental stimulant.

‘I was ranked in the top quarter.’

‘Were you disciplined often?’ he asks.

‘You guys have my file, you know this,’ I say, fighting the urge to shove at the mapper again.

‘We’re studying how your brain processes each question and answer,’ he reminds me.

By the time the doctor asks me about my fifth-year teacher, I’m bored and uncomfortable. My back muscles spasm from the unnatural angle I’m lying at and my eyes water against the laser. I answer quickly, trying to stay awake. I’m sure they’re saving the juiciest questions for when I fall asleep.

‘Adelice,’ the doctor continues, ‘when did you discover you could weave?’

‘At the testing, when I wove on the loom.’

He pauses, and I bite my lip. How much can this thing tell them?

‘You never showed talent before then?’

‘I didn’t have access to a loom.’

‘Hmmm.’ He murmurs something I can’t make out.

‘And your sister, Amie, did she ever show talent?’

I grip the edge of the metal slab. ‘No.’

‘Okay,’ the doctor says, ‘we’re going to transition to talking about your time at the Coventry. What is your favourite dish from the food generators?’

I sigh and relax my fingers, returning to automatic-answer mode. He asks about my wardrobe, where I work, what my duties are and which ones challenge me. He doesn’t mention Maela, so I’m able to keep my blood pressure normal.

‘Thank you, Adelice. Nurse Renni will be in to remove the mapper and IV,’ he says in my ear.

Nurse Renni’s hand adjusts the medcuff on my arm and then she withdraws the needle from my arm. I wait a few moments, but the helmet doesn’t lift off my head. I refrain from screaming at her to take it off.

‘Can you remove this now?’ I ask through it.

‘One moment,’ she murmurs.

‘Adelice,’ the doctor says, drawing my attention back to the comcuff. ‘I apologise, but I have a few extra questions.’

‘Extra?’ My mind races, and although I can’t see or hear her, I’m sure Maela is feeding him more things to ask. She’ll probably string this out another hour.

‘It will only take a moment,’ he assures me. ‘Have you accepted any gifts from staff members or other Spinsters while here?’

I think of the tiny digifile that Enora gave me before my trip through Arras. Somehow I know this is what he’s asking about. ‘No, not really. Ambassador Patton sent flowers to my quarters after the State of the Guild.’

The young doctor clears his throat a little, and I sense his hesitation after I mention Cormac.

‘Have you engaged in any sexual relationships since you joined the Coventry?’

‘Are you serious?’ I explode. ‘I kissed Erik. She knows that.’

Leave it to Maela to make this about her pet.

He continues, ignoring my outburst. ‘Have any of the others made sexual advances towards you?’

‘You mean the guards?’ I ask.

‘No, Adelice,’ he says. ‘I mean the other Spinsters.’

‘The other Spinsters?’ I ask slowly. ‘I don’t follow you.’

‘I’ll take that as a no.’

‘Okay,’ I say, confused. Was he asking if I was a deviant? ‘Anything else?’

‘Not this session,’ he says, and the comcuff clicks off.

‘This session?’ I whimper, but the mapper is already lifting off my head. My eyes see only white. The nurse’s arm snakes under my back and she gently lifts me into a sitting position. A moment later thick gel stings my eyes, and I yelp.

‘Blink hard,’ she commands.

Despite the burn, the room blurs into focus, and I stretch my stiff legs out in front of me, savouring the delicious ache of the movement.

‘I’ll move you to Observation,’ Nurse Renni tells me.

‘Observation?’ I ask. ‘When will I be done?’

‘We want to make sure there are no side effects from the laser scans or the neural stimulant,’ she says, helping me to my feet and guiding me out of the room.

The observation room has pale green walls and several beds topped with white sheets, but my eyes, still oozing gel, can’t make out much else. The nurse holds up a soft robe and I slip it on over the thin gown and sit down on the nearest cot; the sheets crinkle up around my legs. Scooting back to the wall, I feel rough plastic under me. This isn’t the soft, comfortable bed I’m used to in my quarters, but it’s a huge improvement on the exam slab.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I open them and then repeat the action, trying to flush the gel from my eyes. I want to see where I am. Any area of the compound where outsiders work is territory I’d like to chart. But before I can even examine the shelf in the corner, the nurse reappears and helps Pryana onto the bed next to mine.

‘I thought you girls could visit,’ she says brightly.

‘That was nice of you,’ I say, and she beams back at me before bustling out of the room.

Pryana stares ahead, ignoring me.

‘Well, that was fun,’ I say conversationally.

‘You’re twisted,’ she says, not looking at me.

‘Maybe, but it was the best two hours of my life.’

‘Two hours?’ she asks. ‘It took you that long?’

I frown. What does that mean?

‘I was done in half an hour,’ she says, glancing briefly in my direction.

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Probably less to map.’

‘I probably don’t need remapping,’ she spits back.

‘Sure, you’re just what they want,’ I say.

Her eyes narrow, but she picks up a catalogue and flips through it. ‘Madilyne told me that unless the initial scans registered a need for remapping, the whole procedure would take less than an hour,’ she says, the side of her mouth curling up.

‘Who’s Madilyne?’ I ask.

‘My mentor,’ she says, as though this is obvious. ‘Didn’t yours tell you anything?’

‘She told me enough.’

‘Well,’ Pryana says with a smirk, ‘I’d get a new mentor. Yours clearly isn’t doing her job.’

‘Are you volunteering?’ I ask.

‘Careful, Adelice, or they’ll think you’re coming on to me.’