Mankinds 'stupid' gene

As part of The Sefuty's Book Tour I am posting a few posts relevant to the subjects dealt with in the books today I'm on having a tiny rant about a stupidty here in UK and I am sure everyone from the west outside these shores will find it applys to their countries also -I maybe wrong.

I got to thinking of one of the UK’s idiocies the other morning when attempting to gather the fallen hazelnuts in my garden.  Nettles barred my path.  Now I allow nettles in my garden for (a) the wildlife and (b) dye for fibre.  They grow everywhere and I do actually control them although friends may not think so.  I allow dandelions to proliferate for the same reasons.  They need no help.  None of the so called ‘weeds’ do, ask anyone with ground elder in their patch!

Why don’t we plant fields of nettles?  They are incredibly nutritious, need no artificial fertilisers, are best when picked young therefore a couple of crops a year could be gathered.  Why don’t we plant orchards of elders?  Flowers and fruit.  Why do we leave them for the few foragers around?  Why don’t we treasure our food resources now?  One day we may have to.

The Sefuty Chronicles are set in a time of limited resources caused by extreme climate change.  When people think of the effects of climate change it is principally of those things we see as essential to our wellbeing; lack of fuel being the main concern, how will we cope without fossil fuel?  Just on a personal level we all find it difficult to imagine a world without our ‘toys’, our comfort, our mobility.  We watch the price of heating, the cost of running our cars, the cost of turning on our TV’s and computers rising, and think of fossil fuel.

However the most serious problem, for the West at least, will be the collapse of food security.  The shortage of land, the scarcity of water and the lack of fossil fuel will bring our cosy world of supermarkets and inexpensive food crashing down.

Shortage of land?  Here in the UK we have acres of land – don’t we?  As a nation we import something in the region of 60% of our food, would we have enough land if we grew all that, or even most of it, here? Could we feed 60 million?

Scarcity of water?  Here?  Where it seems to do nothing but rain?  Come on – get real, as they say.  Some parts of the South East struggle now to provide water to consumers, farmers and industry; in a few years time they will fail.  Rivers, and our precious water table, are robbed at speed with alarming consequences for the environment.

Inexpensive food?  Yes.  For years now we have not been paying the true cost of food production, with some years showing farmers working for nothing.  What kind of employment would the rest of us consider doing where there was no surety of any kind of profit at the end of the year?  We import such as beans from Africa because it is cheaper to do that then grow them here!  Crazy.  Why are we so very reluctant to pay our workers to produce our food.

After the Second World War a new agricultural policy was put into place to ensure we would never be in the precarious position we had been in during the war.  At any time our supplies from abroad could have been cut – if the Germans had been luckier or us less so – and we would have lost.  We had been urged to ‘Dig for Victory’ – gardens and wasteland being turned over to growing food.  With the help of this personal effort and food rationing the country survived, in better health than before.  Never again, the government declared, must we be so dependent on food from overseas. 

What particular ‘stupid’ gene does mankind possess which makes us forget lessons learnt? 

I am running a give away during the tour. (links to host sites can be found on side bar under pages-book tour)

2 winners of draw will win an e-book edition of

The first two books of the Sefuty Chronicles

Ellen's Tale and The Storyteller's Tale

3 runners up will win an e-book edition of

Ellen's Tale

 (unless already read in which case The Storyteller's Tale)

How to win

A comment on each visited host site gives you one chance to win, also on my sites on those days I am posting there during the tour

an extra entry will be given if you mention the post on Twitter or Facebook

an extra entry will be given for a mention of the post/tour on your own blog

Let me know where you have spread the word

Ellen's Tale: the third Part of Chapter One

They announced they would help. Said they would show me how to do it all.  So I learnt, it was hard. They took me out to what they called fields and I wanted to fall upon the ground, to wrap my arms around my head.  ‘Too much space,’ my brain screamed to me.  Bix held me fast against his side and always his voice was murmuring explanations and encouragements. Then I felt so ill, the smell of the animals was rank and strong and they seemed always to be bleating or lowing as we moved among them

I had to watch where I placed my feet; the fields were filled with the animals’ waste.  ‘Why was it not kept clear?’  I sounded inside my mind.  Flies buzzed and hummed from the piles to our skin, our clothes.  I kept my teeth closed tight and tried not to show my disgust.  The animals seemed to be in a permanent state of panic or puzzlement. They ran from us and then toward us in a bewildering rush of bodies.  Some, braver than their kind, butted and nibbled at my legs, my hands, no matter how I tried to keep myself from them.  Bix just laughed and jumped us sideways, this way and that, and once he swept me up in his arms and over the heads of a group of curious lambs.  What would the Directors say?  I heard children laughing and shouting in a field next to us.  ‘Chasing the birds,’ I was told.  ‘Why?’  I thought.

The man taking us through the field, John was his name, kept talking, talking.  I tried to listen to understand what he said.  I stopped walking the better to do so.  I shut my eyes quickly; I had forgotten and looked up.  The fields spun for that instant and I felt Bix’s arm tighten.  John was explaining something about respect for the animals.   Of kindly slaughter.  I could not help my words and I blame my disordered senses for the disrespect I showed to him.

‘Where is the respect,’ I asked, ‘in being kind and then killing them?’  John joined in with Bix’s laughter.  The animals did, I suppose, look happy enough, if not being miserable was being happy.

 Then, for Gran’s request, they chose a sheep and took it, roughly it seemed to me, to a small hut in the Village, where John picked up what looked like a pair of scissors but they were strange, larger and thicker than any I had seen.  He dragged the protesting sheep between his knees and, bending over, proceeded to take off the woolly coat.  I stared, I could not help myself; to my shame I could not help myself.  What was he doing?  In what seemed no time at all the sheep was half its size and so smooth, clean and white.  Why, it was beautiful in its way.  Someone bundled the fleece, as they called it, away from John.

They killed the sheep. 

Before I knew what was intended they killed it.  Right there.  I was nearly sick then from the stench of the blood that poured from its neck.  I managed to Control.  I would not humiliate my hosts in such a way but never have I had my manners tested so severely.  I stared at the heap of death, speechless, as it sprawled at my feet.  My heart was hammering within my chest and I could feel the blood rushing fast, too fast, around the blood vessels of my brain.  Gran, did you know your request involved killing this animal?  Did you always eat dead animals?  I had never before had to consider that aspect of Gran’s lifestyle, before the City.

Was I responsible for this animal’s death or was Gran?  Had the Authorities realised what my task had involved?  If they had, why had they not warned me, did they fear I would not honour Gran’s request if I had known?  Maybe they had not known, then was I at fault for not stopping the act?  But I had not known what they were going to do.  How could I have imagined they would kill it?

My head was pounding now and my thoughts swirled in a turbulence of disorder that threatened to split it.  I was losing my ability to think, to reason. I felt my breath beginning to fail me and the animal at my feet grew hazy.  My legs began to shake.  I needed to leave but how could I, what excuse did I have to rush away?  These people were helping me, helping Gran.  They had killed one of their animals for us, strangers to them.  How could I disgrace them, myself, Gran or even the City?

I was so lost.  Then Bix was there leading me away, an easy comment tossed over his shoulder to the people.  I heard dimly a pleasant rejoinder as my legs collapsed beneath me.  Bix was holding me up and led me to a small room next door with a strangely warm smell.  He lowered me gently to a soft cushion and sat beside me holding me and telling me to, ‘Breathe slowly, my love; be calm, be calm.’  His voice was even and gentle, instructing me ‘Slow.  Calm.  Breathe.’

It was not my Mantra but it started to work.  My muscles un-knotted slowly, my stomach felt some ease, gradually my mind slowed its chaotic galloping and I could see my way to Control.  It did not come at once but it would come if I remained at  peace within Bix’s encircling arm.  He was my sanity.

His voice sank to a comforting nonsense, his words meant nothing, the kind of words that maybe Gran had used when I was young, the kind of words that eased hurts and fears just by the rhythm in them, by the sound of them.  I slid my hand into his, feeling his warmth, his security.  I bowed my head against his chest and used his heartbeat to slow mine down, to match his beat.  Then I was calm, had Order and Control.  The dead animal was filed for future thought and logic.  I could face the Village again.  I looked up and tried a smile for Bix.

‘Good girl,’ he smiled back.  ‘Ready for the rest?’

I hoped I was.

‘Will you wait here for a few minutes?  I’ll check there are no more surprises like that.’  The instant panic I felt subsided and, looking around at the smallness of the space, I felt safe enough to consent realising, as he left, that Bix must have been uneasy within walls so close together.  

I looked around and pressed my fingers into the softness beneath me and realised I was sitting on many fleeces of sheep.  Bundles of the fleece surrounded me.  That warm and comforting smell belonged to them.  I examined with sight and touch.  Feeling the greasy softness, seeing flecks of plant life and dirt tangled in the hairy texture.  What, I wondered, would happen to these?  How could I find out?  I caught my thoughts then, why would I want to know?

This was new.  I had never wondered the how of anything that I didn’t need to know.  Sometimes with Gran, when I was very young, I had asked questions that the Supervisors had labelled curiosity and led them to Rehab me.  My memory of that is faint and vaguely unsettling.  I hardly ever think about it.  Gran had warned me not to ask questions, that she would tell me things unasked.  Had the Rehabilitation not worked, that I now found myself curious about these fleeces?  I must try harder.  I did not mention my new problem to Bix when he returned; I would find a quiet time and work out these Aberrations. 

Bix took me to the house we had eaten within that morning.  There was a female waiting; I thought she was about my age.  She smiled at me and asked me to sit at the table.  Bix was leaving, I watched him go with a sense of loss.  Then I turned back to the woman keeping my eyes low as courtesy demanded.  I could hear Bix outside the window talking to what sounded like a group of men.

‘My name is Susanna.’  I felt such a sense of relief.  Not once had anyone offered their name since we had arrived, a fact that preyed on my anxieties.  Had I and was I still offending them in some way?  Elated at this proof I had not, I bowed my head and offered my name back.

‘Bix has been explaining some things to us,’ she said.  ‘You see, here in the Village it’s the visitor who has to offer a name first.  We had thought you didn’t wish to do this, now we know that you were waiting for your hosts to be first.   It is a misunderstanding.’

I stared across at her, astonishment and guilt equally mixed.  I had offended but how could anyone guess at such a strange convention?  She continued, ‘Bix has explained about your customs and how outward emotion is considered embarrassing to others.  We’d thought that you found us all of no account as you seemed uninterested in us.  Now we know you have been as considerate as any could wish.’

I grew flushed and anxiety rose within me.  I had been so rude, but how could I know?   They did not tell me in the City.

‘We had known you would find being Outside strange but we hadn’t considered how terrible.  We hadn’t known how you would feel about touching, noise and bustle.  Most of all we hadn’t realised you had never known about meat and how it’s produced.  I’m asked to apologise on all our behalfs.’  She hesitated and then, ‘Please, can we start again?’

I wanted to run and hide like a chastised child.  How could I have behaved so badly?   I turned my head so the eye water would not be visible.  I who had full marks always in Politeness sessions.  I who could recite every Protocol our level was allowed to know.  Then, in the silence that stretched until it seemed to breaking, a new and novel thought crept into my conscious, one that would never have been allowed in Sessions.  I realised that there were two sides.  They had been trying to be good hosts and I a good guest.  Separated by the Sefuty Line for fifty years we no longer used the same forms of behaviour.

Ellen'sTale: The Second Part of Chapter One

He held me clamped to his side as we seemed to walk through space.   I kept my eyes shut for so long and would have fallen but for his strength.  He stopped to persuade me to open them, but it seemed the sky would crush me.   I couldn’t.   I wouldn’t. 

‘Ellen.  Just look at something small and close to you, never move your eyes from that object and you will find the space is tiny.  Try.  Please.’  The last was said from behind a smile, I could hear it.   I tried one eye and found I was looking down at my foot.  Two eyes gave me very little extra to see.  He was right: the space had suddenly collapsed in on itself.   Alright?’  He did not take his arm away and, knowing that, I felt confident and whispered that maybe I was.  It was easier now as I could avoid the tussocks that tripped.  Bix talked quietly as we walked, telling me what little he knew of the Village we were going to.  What he thought the different sounds we could hear were.  About how brave he thought I was.   I liked it when he said that, although we both knew he was not telling truth. 

After many miles, when my legs ached from the unevenness of the ground, we met them.  They weren’t so different.  Less streamlined, no obvious Social Place difference and nothing they wore seemed to fit.  Material flapped around bodies in slip-slap manner.  Colours were subdued and there seemed to be many layers all fastened in different ways and places.  Hair seemed to follow the clothes; there were no obvious symbols of hierarchy.  Their talk at first seemed strange but I followed every word.

I was so tired I disgraced myself again and fell asleep when we arrived at the Village, my head in Bix’s lap.  The depths I am sinking to, Gran, I thought as I tipped into fitful rest.  The buzz of voices around me seemed like a child’s lullaby, one in which Bix’s voice was the melody.

Later, when I was conscious again, a Committee of them questioned me.  About Gran mostly, but also me and Bix.  I thought they would want to know about the City but, apart from how Gran was living, they ignored it. I thought at the time that maybe they didn’t know about the City, I know better now.  I kept my expression as neutral as I could considering the distractions of the Village life around us.  I described the Hallowed Halls and how well the Respected Elders were cared for.  I explained the duty we have toward them at the end to give them what they most desire before they die.  I explained what Gran desired.  I told them I loved my Gran more than anything and wanted so much to do this for her, and I told them that, even now, it might be too late as she was within the last few days of life.  Then I waited.  They debated for so long.  Once they asked why I had waited until the last moment to do this thing and I explained about Bix, how I would not have been able to go Outside without his help.

 They went away and talked some more and I daydreamt of Gran, of when we had been younger.  Of her singing silly songs that made me giggle, of how she used to hold me up to the windows on the Archway viewing stations and point out the different parts of the City by the coloured lights.  Of the stories she told me about her youth, oh so many years before.  And I dreamt of the strangeness of her life, of how I had always thought of her as so brave when she explained the Chaos of back then.  Not just the Wars and destruction but all the everyday things they had to deal with, make judgments upon, decisions.  The events, thoughts and actions they juggled continually through each waking day.  How did they keep their minds together?  How did their minds never split?

And then. 

Then I thought of how she may be dying right at that moment and Leaving me, maybe already had.  The sadness fell like a weighted cloth over me and my head bowed under its pressure.  Please let her be there when I return, my mind whispered.  I needed to say goodbye to her.  An arm seemed to drift lightly around me and I leaned into Bix gratefully.  He said nothing, which was good.  I closed my eyes and inhaled the odour of him.  Bix.

I cannot recall in detail that first evening.  So much noise and turmoil.  Agitation inundated every part of me.  People moving everywhere, talking, shouting, interrupting, laughing.   Children shrieking and running and where was the Order?  Why this Chaos?  I huddled, miserable, next to Bix who seemed not to notice any confusion.  They offered food and drink; I burrowed my head in Bix’s shoulder shaking my head.  It was wrong. I knew as I did it how unpardonably rude I was being, but that day I could no longer Control.   I wanted to be back in the peace of the City so much.  Only Gran kept me there.  And Bix.

That first night we were shown a room for our sleeping but Bix said he would sleep out under the stars.  I had heard the Feral would not allow for comfortable sleep within walls.  I went with him.  How would I sleep without his safety?  He made our two bags into one and grinned in the gloom as I snuggled next to him.  I pushed my head into his shoulder to hide the dangerous dark that pressed me to the ground.  The bags were warm and against belief I slept, close to Bix.  Never since I was weaned had I slept so; body to body.  I slept instantly, my brain so tired and jumbled it crashed to the safety of night oblivion.  When I woke I wondered how the Directors would react when they knew.  It was a thought instantly lost as Bix’s breath stirred my cheek

‘Just in time, my love.  Up, up and watch the sunrise.  It’s fantastic.  Come.’  He pulled me to my feet and spun me round to watch the horizon.  His hands held either side of my face, forced my gaze only forward and shielded me from the space.  My hands went up to hold his there and then I ventured to open my fast-closed eyes.  Never have I seen such a sight.  The terror of the expanse was held at bay by his hands.  I know now that many people have sung to the glory that I looked on for the first time that day.  Poets and artists, musicians and philosophers, all have had their say.  For me it was the first time, and it was the magic which helped shape my actions from then.  I sighed when day finally presented, felt a sadness that this display was over.  I understood that tomorrow’s display would not be the same.

That morning I tried to eat my first ‘real food’.  I looked at the plate set down before me, saw nameless heaps of texture and colour, saw and felt heat rising and then smelt the whole and felt my gorge rise.  From under my lowered lids I looked around at the rest of the company, they were eating with healthy enjoyment.  There was talk and laughter; people’s arms and hands crossing and stretching across the table, offering, taking.  The Chaos and intrusion of all the activity caused my tensions to rise again.  Control.  I must Control.  This was how they behaved; I must not dishonour them, they who had allowed me into their home. I looked up quickly at Bix who smiled encouragingly back.

‘It’s very good,’ he said and I thought that maybe it might be Bix’s first food as well.  ‘Try it,’ he urged.

I tried.  I choked and spluttered.  I disgraced myself.  The temperature was too high, the texture was so strange and the taste was indescribably horrible.  Hands began to bang my back.  I wanted to twist away but I coughed too much and had to bear their touch.  I tried to find Bix’s hand, found it.  Laughing, Bix put my world to rights and panic backed away.  My throat felt sore and rough, my eyes filled with water and I hung my head to hide the flush of shame.  I apologised with the highest form of Protocol I could manage.  The formality and order of the word sequence calmed my racing pulse and my heartbeat slowed.  I ventured a look around and saw with pleasure the expressionless faces around the table.  I had redeemed myself.  Control.  I looked at Bix.  His face was as quiet as I think it was possible for someone who laughed so much. 

I tried the food a second time.  A small mouthful as Bix advised.  Held it in my mouth.  It filled my mouth and not only stayed but seemed to expand.  It intruded into the whole cavity.  I was aware of roughness and grease.  It stayed, nothing seemed to happen.  Bix leant down and whispered, ‘It doesn’t dissolve; you must chew it and swallow.’

Startled, I ventured another glance at the others. Their mouths and jaws were moving vigorously, their throats moved, I looked up at Bix who nodded and smiled.  I tried.  Oh, Gran, you never warned me.  It was horrid.  It was disgusting.  It was impossible. I filled my mind with my childhood mantra of Control.  I willed my mouth to move the food around, made my tongue join in.  When was it ready to swallow?   I chewed until the lumps were all the same smooth texture, aware that some had hidden between my teeth.  I tried to swallow and … oh, how do they do it so easily?  The food mass was many sizes too large for my throat, too late I realised it was hurtling toward my lungs.  It seemed my throat knew what to do.  Crashing, as if a heavy lump of metal, the whole proceeded to fight within me.  However, this time I managed, just, to maintain the dignity of the City.  Oh, I longed for a wake-up cube to dissolve and rid me of this aftertaste that lingered for so long.  How to dig out the tiny but intrusive pieces within my teeth?   I was at a loss.  I realised with dismay that food such as this would be served up every day.  Oh, Gran!

Ellen's Tale:First Part of Chapter One

As promised here is the 1st part  of the 1st chapter of Ellen's Tale:being the first part of the Sefuty Chronicles.  To explain why the chapters are so long.  The novel is written in the form of transcripts of interviews.  Each chapter is an entire interview.  Too long for one post so will load a new bit each day.  Hope you enjoy the read.

Sound recording 2110 NEC

Transcribed 2123 NEC



ELLEN WELLFIT

His face was as scarred and battered as any Feral cat; from where to be sure some of his genetic makeup had come.  I looked on his lean dark countenance and my whole life changed right there in Deliveries.  He rode the Sefuty Line so you know him and his kind. Deviants that you admire but only as an abstraction.  He appeared grim of face, dark of head and with eyes so green you could be tempted to stare.  He was short and lean and, as he stalked through the loading bays, the dust from Outside flew from him.  He wore a scowl comfortably but, I know now, it was his defence against the whispers and covert glances.  They were dangerous, the Riders, we all know that.  We had all been warned.  They were not as others, not quite human.

He was someone special, he had to be.  I heard the whispers, I heard the name.  Bix.  Of course I had heard of him, everyone in our part of the City had.  A legend.  I thought of Gran.  I forgot my training and looked full at Bix and a half-formed idiocy saturated my brain cells.  Without allowing logic to clear my mind I took courage in both pockets and ran in front of him before he could leave.  I only reached his shoulder and had to tilt my head to confront him.  Bold, too bold for manners.  Our gazes met and there was a charge.  Anger from him, fear from me or just a recognition?  I started talking; sure I only had moments to hold him to my words.  His raised hand paused when I mentioned Gran, of the Respected Elderly. Regarding me, he listened. 

This was so important to me, to Gran, and with an effort I kept my eyes on his and asked for his help.  There was a pause as he stared down at me.  I felt the embarrassment, felt the colour rising in my face, but I overrode the reflexes and kept his gaze; small gold flecks nestled in the green of his eyes.

  His hand held me under my elbow; his touch was firm and allowed no escape, I had no such desire.  He led me to the drinks room, sitting me down and demanding explanation.  I wasn’t coherent, as I tried to explain what Gran wanted. Told him the RE Guardians’ hands were knotted, they could do nothing; told him I was all the family Gran had. 

He knew it was my task.  Listening quietly to what I was saying he waited for my trailing silence then said, ‘You know that’s almost impossible, don’t you?’

He had said, ‘Almost’.  I clung to that, a talisman, though I agreed despondently.

‘Can I meet with your Gran?’ he asked.  His voice was deep and like gravel; I found it soft and pleasant to my ear.  Those green eyes were kind and seemed to smile at me.  I told him I would try.  I kept my voice calm.  I had already been more rude than I would have thought possible; it would not do to show any of the turmoil within me.

I asked the First Ordering Guardian, she was my favourite, all my life she had cared for Gran.  Explaining the request she agreed: Bix was well known.  I guess he would have to be.  She agreed that if anyone could help it would be someone such as Bix.

So I took him to the Hallowed Halls and if he felt as alien as he looked he gave no sign.  His easy loping step seemed so out of place here where steps were uncertain and slow.  Outside air seemed to waft from him and, as he passed, nodding heads raised and dimmed eyes peered after in more curious interest than many had shown for decades.  I introduced him in the proper manner to Gran.  I’m good at the Protocol stuff.  I keep it like a coloured sequence in my head, some very complicated Higher Protocol moves.  There’s a certain feel in the movements which gives pleasure.  Gran laughed up at me as she always did when I performed a Protocol.  They are just such a dysfunctional misalignment sometimes these REs, but I loved her so much I forgave her everything.  It was so nice to see her laugh, just lately it had seemed like . . .  well. 

Anyway, Bix had no manners at all; he bent right over her and kissed the back of her hand.  Well I question you, what about permission, germ checks and DNA samples?  Did he care?  No he just went ahead and kissed her hand.  I flinched, I could not help myself, but Gran just chuckled and put her hand up to his cheek.  I looked around wildly for a Guardian, was no one else getting those gross vibes from all that unauthorised skin touching?  Bix pulled a stool up and sat right next to her, knee to knee.  His dust-stained trousers right there mixing with Gran’s crumpled skirt. Immediately they were talking away as if they were friends from way back when.

The Guardian smiled at me, silently telling me to leave them to do

things their way.  Was that tolerance of Deviant Behaviour part of their

 Alteration?  I supposed it must be, to deal with the more difficult Respected Elderly.

Bix was now telling Gran that what she wanted was nigh on impossible.  Well!  Gran had told him, I never thought she would do that.  I don’t know why, thinking about it, when did Gran ever abide by taboo rules?  She chuckled at his remark and then started singing.  Singing!  Gran never did fail to amaze me, and then Mabel sitting next to her joined in and the next thing there’s a whole room full of them singing.  Something about an ant and some plant, I don’t know.  I expected some Medication Squaddy to rush in but, no, they were allowed to sing.  Bix was laughing as he bent over and kissed Gran on the cheek, telling her to keep the hopes high, apple pie in the sky, or some such nonsense.  I kissed Gran quickly and ran after him.

He guided me to an empty bench.  We were still within the Halls so it was padded and soft.  I often sat on those for the sheer pleasure of the softness; I’m sure the Guardians knew so I never lingered in case of reprimand.

‘What’s your name?’  His voice held, above its notes, the traces of the past laughter.  He smiled straight at me and I felt something dissolve within me, confusing and strange.

‘Ellen is what Gran calls me,’ I answered with, I hoped, nothing betraying my thoughts. Please let me not disgrace myself, my only thought.  As a mountain spring, I thought, let me keep my spring.

‘Ellen,’ he smiled again.  ‘As I said before it’s not an easy task.  One thing is certain:  your Gran can’t go Outside, she’s too frail.’ I must have betrayed myself because he added, ‘You know it really, don’t lie to yourself. Her time is numbered in days, possibly weeks but no more.’

With a brimful of eye water I nodded.  I had to brush it away; it would not go on its own.  How embarrassing, just like a child.  I knew Gran would have to Die someday.  Die.  She taught me to say that word.  Obviously I don’t say it in company but Gran always wanted me to call ‘a spade a spade’, whatever that was.

He didn’t seem to be embarrassed or offended so I gathered Control again. ‘That’s why I have to do something.  I’m all she has left now; I want her to be happy when she … she Leaves us.’

With an air of amused curiosity he asked, ‘How much would you do for her?’

‘Anything.’ And then more cautiously, as I didn’t wish to lie to him ‘I think,’ I responded.

‘Kiss me, and then I’ll be gone.’

I stared at him in consternation as I repeated his words.

‘I’m going away to put my life on the line for you,’ he reasoned.  ‘Surely you can manage to put your reputation on the line and kiss me. And’  now his eyes were twinkling like the stars I saw once from a high walkway.  Kiss him.  Something within me leapt to respond and before I knew I had raised my lips to his and then a light gentle touch as his lips met mine.  Nothing terrible happened, no shouts or public humiliation.  It was nice actually. 

He left then with a laugh and a floating sentence from over his shoulder. ‘Give me a couple of days, little Ellen, I’ll see what I can do,’ and he was gone.  It seemed after he left that the City had grown smaller.

     

     

He was back in three days and five hours, I did not count the minutes.  Why would I?  I was still in Deliveries and heard the bustle before ever I saw him.  He signed off, said something to his riding partner and then, looking over, saw me and smiled.  Mountain springs.  Everyone noticed; tried not to be seen looking at me.  He jerked his head toward the door and, as I was about to argue my responsibilities, the Supervisor came over, took my clipboard and suggested it was time for a refreshment break.  Bix had friends in high places; the Supervisor had never even looked at me before.

Bix sat me down and a worker brought us hot liquids without us even having to queue or, it seemed, any credits being needed.  I was in exalted circles with Bix.  He drank thirstily before he said a word.

‘Okay, how brave is my little Ellen?’ he grinned.

 I had had three days and five hours to practise my mountain spring so managed a smooth ‘Another kiss?’ I shrugged, ‘Why not?’

He lent across as if he would kiss me there and then and all my pretended casualness left me abruptly.  I reared back in panic.  ‘Not here.  Are you mad?’

‘Of course, that’s part of our Alteration.  How else would they have Riders for the Line?’ He laughed.  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll save that one for later.  No, it was something else.  I might be able to help you, but,’ he paused, ‘you’ll have to come Outside with me. ’

Speech fled.  Did I open my mouth?  He didn’t say anything while I wrestled with terror and confusions. ‘Outside?’ I whispered, hoping I had heard wrong.

There was sympathy in his expression as he nodded, waited. 

‘Is there no other …,’  my voice trailed away as he shook his head.  He leaned forward and with lowered voice explained.  ‘I’ve managed to get in touch with a Village Outside, Blaisemill, who might be willing to help, but they say they need to talk to you.  They can supply the goods, the expertise,

only if you come.’  He waited but I had no words.  I was suffocating with  fear.  ‘I’ll be with you, Ellen, and I’m the best; you know that.  But I can’t honestly tell you nothing will happen, no one can ever say that.  Even if all is well with Security, we’ll need to be out there for at least six days, maybe eight.  My riding partner is willing to let us off the Train and pick us up again but his route is weekly.’

I was dying.  Every word he uttered, the hard hands of fear tightened around my lungs.  No breath.   No life.  Oh, Gran, not that, I couldn’t do that; anything but that.  Silence seemed to envelop us, but I know there was noise all around as people rushed, chattering, clattering.  I felt sick and a tremor started in my toes and grimly crept over my body.  I must not let anyone see my emotion.  Control.  Control was all.  Think of others always.  Do not distress them.  Do not embarrass the others.  Control.  I repeated the Mantra of my youth.  The tremor subsided, grumbling.  I looked up at Bix and his sympathetic eyes watched anxiously.  I swallowed hard and, with what I thought was iron springiness, but which he laughingly assured me later was none at all, I said, ‘I have no Alteration for Outside.’

‘You don’t need any.  All you need is courage.’

It was fine for him to say these things, he with Feral and Mad Alterations, he was bred in courage. I, what had I?  They had Altered his perception too, I thought, as he read my thoughts and leaned across the table, whispering softly, ‘Love.  Ellen, you have love for Gran to give you courage.’

He was right, of course; the only purpose for any of this was to let Gran Leave with love.  The fear did not go.  ‘Would we be able to get permission?’

‘Getting that is your job, Ellen.  You must take someone with you and I’m willing.   Permission for two.’ 

I nodded as I pushed my chair back.   ‘Will you be here?’

He smiled up at me as I rose to shaky feet.  ‘I’m not due out for twenty four hours.  I can change my rota anytime before then.’

I left him then before my mountain spring left me.

       

         

I got the permits needed to go Outside.  I got a session with the Psychiatrist to check my Emotional Soundness. I got an interview with the Administrator to speed me on my way. 

I met Bix early the next morning before the day shift came on.  He silently helped me into the protective covering of the Riders.  He tightened my bootlaces for me as I stood, childlike limp.  He introduced me to his riding partner, Jack.  He input my details on the exit board.  He held my  hand firmly as he led me through the doors and lifted me gently up the steps, high up above the ground into the cab of the Train.  Oh, Gran!

I did not care that he might be shocked or embarrassed; I could not, just could not, face the Outside without courage from him.  I sat close, taboo or not.  He did not seem to mind, he lifted his arm so that I could nestle closer, like Gran used to do when I was small, before I had Control. He put his arm around my shoulders like she had and held me tight to him.  It felt good.  I heard Jack ask if I was alright and Bix replying, ‘She’s okay; bravest in the four Cities.’  I could hear a smile in his voice but he was not laughing at me, I could tell that.

‘I am not brave.’  Muffled in his jacket but still he heard.  ‘I am just plain terrified,’ I admitted.  I was not ready to lie to him.

‘I know.  But that’s what courage is Ellen.  Doing what you are terrified of.’

 I opened my eyes a little and felt my heart palpitate as I saw the day-breaking endless expanse of grey nothingness.  ‘Where is everything?’  I gasped, clutching at his arm in fresh fear.

‘Just there, where you’re looking.  Watch, the colours will come soon. It’s very beautiful as day lights it up.’

It was, in a curious way; the colours were soft-edged and I saw there was life out in the expanse.  Birds and animals that I did not recognise; flying and scuttling.  ‘No people though?’  I asked.

‘Not so near the Line,’ Bix told me.  ‘It’s too dangerous.  Those fields are not safe to walk over.  Leftover mines, fresh mines, bombs.  The people of the Outside stay well away.’

I thought about this as I watched the world pass at a dizzying speed.  I knew of course, who did not, of the Wars and the destructions but had thought it was in the past.  Oh, I knew the Sefuty Line was still prone to attack but I had not realised mines and bombs were left over.

‘How will we get to the people then?’  I tried not to let my voice lose Control; I do not know how well I succeeded.

‘Don’t worry, there are a few places we’ve cleared and I’ll go first.  All you must do is follow.’

I looked up at him, amazed to find him smiling.  Jack too.  Did they find everything amusing or was it just me they found funny?  We travelled many hours and then the colours were harsher, clear-edged; still the Line ran straight and no people to see.  It wasn’t so scary now, although I could not think very hard about the emptiness without a feeling of nausea creeping in.

 It flooded in when, later, we stood alongside the Line; when all that emptiness wrapped itself around, suffocating me, pulling me down in a dizzy

spiral of sickness and despair.  Without Bix’s arm around me, his chest  against my face, I would have gone insane I am sure.  I could hear his heart beating as I stood there.  It was so measured and calm.  His breathing was even and sure.  There was no fear in him, no fear at all.  I looked up and tried a smile.   It seemed to work and he grinned back.

‘You’re the most amazing girl, my love,’ he said and I accepted the praise with pride.  I could make amends if I ever got back, I would attend some sessions in Humility and lessons on my place in the Greater Good of Society.  It was only much later, and far too late, that I pondered his possession words.

I followed exactly where he told me.   I would have followed him into the pits of radioactive waste if he had said.   I still would.

We were out there for seven days and ten hours.