memories – Page 7 – three good words

January 6, 2015February 9, 2015

one to another

to write about the touch
the moment
to write because you miss
a kiss
the warmth of a known body
the smoothness of once-touched skin

to know you
and yet i don’t
not entirely
but intimately
between yes and no
and unspoken words
like the swish of sheets
in between

we’ve met before
known each other
in a time
another place
long ago
days, weeks, months
and moments together
one to another

for a heart remembers
runs and jumps
at a long-lost sight
while that which cautions
worries
cries foul in the brightest light
sings itself to sleep

within the embrace
smooth like water
an unclenched fist
open wide
to memories, present
a quiet rejoicing
together,
no longer apart.

December 23, 2014

same ol’, same ol’

Every year
the drama begins
sitting around the table
eating drinking
making merry
singing carols and songs wassailing

And then it happens,
right among the joyous crowd
that one little word
that one precious tone
eyes wide, pursed lips
a silence full ‘Oh-oh’ and ‘Here we go’
Oh God did you have to start that now?’

And the mayhem begins
the rants, arguments
and loud angry shouts
Uncle George, please
Aunt Jemma, why? Granma!
and Tammy, hold your tongue
Lucas, stop egging him on
but Ian and Joyce pour more oil into the fire
Eddie and Sara smiling sadly, looking on,
it’s all so predictable like that 12 days song

That one little look
that one small word
a sigh, a warning
sent out with serious eyes
‘Please, have another drink’
‘No, that’s what started it!’
The wine, the grog
those glasses of homemade eggnog
all of them pistol-shots to
The He said She said Marathon:

‘I never said’, ‘You did say’
This, that and remember that day
two, three, ten years ago
‘When I was a kid’
and everyone groans,
sighs, heads shaking, while eyes are rolled

Every single year, back when we played in the snow,
Every single Christmas that comes and goes.

December 7, 2014

in memoriam

Sometimes,
when walking down
the cobbled streets of this young republic
History as history as
the story beyond the stories told

creeps up on you silently
murderously precise
chilling in its horror
unmistakable in its terror

flashing golden in the street
embedded silently
into the very solidity you stand on,
shifting the ground beneath your feet.

In that moment
bending low in a ghostly bow
all else is silence

even memories of that great music
that was once the sole hallmark of this
old and ancient soil
a once-fragmented space
ruled by dukes and lords and princes
for centuries past
this battleground of faiths
this incubator of deep and deepest thoughts

unified ruthlessly under an unwilling emperor
and a rebellious king
who fraternized with the French
to receive sovereignty
the kingly crown
who’s son of his son
would go mad with love and life
and create breathtaking fairytales
that today are admired,
celebrated and duplicated all round.

* * *

A Lady with an ë
once wound along these rivers
and through these hills in a chaise and four,
wondering at this densely forested space
living quietly beyond the fingers of
what was known as civilization;

a place untouched by the wonders of the world
or so she thought
birthplace of so many geniuses in music
and thinkers of great, complicated thoughts.

And yet I wonder
if she in her elegance
could have foreseen that the very rivers and trees
the very hills and towns and cities
she visited and documented with such admiration
would one day harbour such industrialised insanity
such satanical banality
that went beyond the guillotined terror
she and her peers knew too well.

For that was the real horror, was it not
that was the ultimate shock
that civilisation could be rendered
null and void
by its very own foundations,
that loyalty could be despicable
obedience horrendous
silence inexcusable
and rationality the ultimate weapon
to destroy all faith in safety valves.

And now it is understood that
decrees are needed
rules and laws and regulations
set in metaphorical stone
to emblazon the coordinates for humanity.

For it was proven beyond doubt
in those awful twelve years
that you cannot trust anyone
no faith, no ideology, no religion
none who call themselves civilised,
no system of thought or belief,
to ascertain that mercy and compassion
what it means to be human, humane
would never be infringed.

For that was the horror of it,
that was the most ultimate of shocks:
that even the most ordinary human,
so civilised, so educated, so loyal,
could be, given the right circumstance,
someone unquestionably monstrous.

December 4, 2014March 16, 2015

winter in paris

Snow is falling while Madeleine walks down a cobble-stoned street. Strangers pass her by, rushing home. Madeleine takes her time. She has a hat on, newly bought. She really likes it. It fits her coat, red with black buttons, covering her warmly from her neck to her knees. Her boots are dusted with powdery white, the snow is cascading down past the windows and walls, filling the curb, the sills, the street. tour eiffel Madeleine catches a glimpse of herself in a shop window. The red of her coat is shockingly bright, like Red Riding Hood walking through the forest. All she needs is a basket with pastries, but her grandmére lives in Lyon.

Sophie likes to look out of windows when it snows, just like now, her chin in her hand, and a book lying open next to her. She’s waiting for the water to boil for a cup of tea. The snow is falling gently from a heavy sky, dark and filled with winter storms. Down below a young woman walks by in a bright red coat. Sophie wonders where she got it from. The kettle clicks, the water’s done. Sophie moves away from the window, happy that winter has finally come.

Luc is tall and dark, with a lightning smile. He likes wearing dark sweaters over light shirts. He has to bend down to open doors, his legs are long like a runner’s. Madeleine likes to throw herself into his arms. He chuckles then. They meet at a café they both like, Madeleine orders a citrón, Luc a coffee. He asks her how her day was, she smiles and asks if he likes her hat. Luc always thought women were crazy about shoes, but Madeleine is always buying hats. He asks again, ‘How was your day?’ and Madeleine sighs without answering. Luc frowns, ‘That bad?’ Madeleine shrugs and looks out the window, the snow is falling thickly now, covering cars and lamps. Luc reaches out and holds Madeleine’s hand, she turns and tries to smile. He can see the frustration in her eyes that she won’t allow to spread. He wishes he could do something, help somehow, but Madeleine insists on finishing the internship.

paris winter 4 She will not be cowed. So he says, ‘It’s just three more weeks.’ Madeleine nods, sadly. Luc can see she is trying not to cry.

‘Madeleine, you really don’t have to do this. There are other places -‘
‘No. I won’t let them win. And Margarite told me twice I do my job well.’
‘And you do do it well.’
‘Yes. I know. I know I get things done. They know that and can’t stand it -‘

Madeleine takes a deep breath and exhales. The waiter comes with the citrón and the coffee. They drink in silence, Luc watching Madeleine. He would like to tell her about his promotion, the confirmation came in today. He would like to tell her about the holiday they could take next year. He would like to say something to make her smile again, but Madeleine is watching the snow again and looks at peace. Luc doesn’t want to disturb that just yet.

It’s past seven, dark as night, and Sophie is waiting. Waiting for Etienne, Etienne who is about to come in a taxi, all wrapped in a coat. He already sent her text, the flight was ok, de Gaulle was hell, he couldn’t wait to see her again. Sophie spent the last hour making dinner. The table is set, the candals lit, the wine decanted, the good one from the Périgord. It’s still snowing outside, so Sophie fought with the wood in the fireplace until it accepted the fire. Finally, the taxi arrives, stopping busily in the street. Sophie rushes to the window and sees Etienne step out. The driver pops the boot, and Etienne takes out a suitcase and his shoulder bag heavy with his notebook and papers. He taps the roof of the cab twice, nods to the driver and the cab is gone. Sophie watches Etienne walk towards the house, patting down his front. She knows he’s searching for his keys. She leans closer to the window, and waves. Etienne looks up, startled. Sophie smiles and waves again. Etienne smiles back, relieved. He’s been gone for two weeks.

Luc wraps an arm around Madeleine’s shoulders when they leave the house. He has a long coat on and looks like the businessman he is, but Madeleine likes to think of him as a poet. When he’s in the shower, he likes to sing in a low baritone, songs she usually only hears on the radio. When they cross streets, Luc stretches out a hand as if he’s about to lose Madeleine in a crowd. Madeleine is scared of cars. She was hit by one once when she was a child, three weeks with deep bruises. Luckily no more. She sometimes hears the screeching tires. She always hesitates at the curb. Luc then steps out into the street, turns around and stretches out a hand. paris winter 5 Madeleine only runs to him because she is afraid he will stand too long and be hit, drivers are crazy in this city. She would rather be hit with him than be left in this cold world, alone.

Sophie closes her eyes when Etienne kisses her hello. They’re standing in the narrow hallway, Etienne still in his snow-covered coat, suitcase and shoulder bag on the floor. Sophie doesn’t feel the chill from the open door. She feels warm, so warm, winter could be a myth told by someone unknown. They part, Etienne closes the door, smells the air and smiles, ‘Is that your gratin?’ Sophie nods, yes, she thought he might want something warm. She still has to make the medallions. Etienne kisses her again and says he’ll take a shower first. While he’s in the bathroom, Sophie puts the pan on the stove, happy to hear the shower run. Her heart glows at the memory of Etienne’s relief to be home. It makes her smile, their love is yet so young. She wishes to keep it this young, innocent in its joy, just happy to be. She wishes it would not grow to an obstinate little thing, a disillusioned adult after years as a pouty teen. She does not want their love to grow old. She wants it to stay like this, to always know the simple joy of being together again after being separated for so many days, they became weeks.

Luc is watching Madeleine drink tea. She doesn’t like coffee. She doesn’t like colourless nails either. They always have to be painted. Maybe it has to do with her work, she always wakes up an hour early and prepares herself meticulously before she leaves. He doesn’t like the transformation. The Madeleine who leaves the house in the morning is not the Madeleine he knows. The one in the morning is curt and concentrated, saying little to nothing at all. The Madeleine he knows laughs a lot. She doesn’t mind being a little disorganised and she takes her time. Morning Madeleine has everything planned out, and leaves the house at seven thirty sharp. Sometimes Luc tries to slow her down with breakfast, tea, brioche, an omelette, but Morning Madeleine has no time for that and rushes out at 7:30, terrified she might be a nanosecond late. Luc can’t wait until she’s finished with that internship. Then he’ll take her somewhere nice, like Florence. They’ve never been to Florence. He already booked the tickets and a nice hotel. paris winter 7 He wants them to have the perfect weekend, far away from everything, especially the snow. Luc knows winter is inevitable in this city, but he could really live without the cold.

Sophie turns on her front and looks out the window. Etienne is quiet next to her, pleasantly tired. His hand on her back is warm, and she enjoys how he strokes her skin. After a while he asks what’s wrong and Sophie shakes her head smiling,

‘Nothing.’
‘What are you looking at?’
‘The snow.’

He glances over his shoulder and sighs,

‘It’s still hasn’t stopped?’
‘Why would you want it to stop?’
‘It clogged up all the runways. We couldn’t land for half an hour.’

Sophie looks at the snowflakes trickling down from the sky. They look so harmless, tiny puffs of white. Tiny ballerinas running to the stage, gathering on the sill. She sees a cool blue light bloom next to her and turns. Etienne is scrolling through something on his phone.

‘Your boss?’
‘No. It won’t stop till Tuesday.’
‘What won’t stop?’
‘The snow. The streets are going to be a mess.’
‘You checked?’

‘Yeah,’ Etienne says as if that was perfectly normal, now, in this moment, with the tiny ballerinas fluttering to their stage, both of them lying next to each other under the sheets after such a wonderful time naked together. Sometimes Etienne is far too pragmatic for Sophie’s taste. But then he puts away his phone, turns to her, kisses her shoulder and says,

‘You’ll have to tell me what you want for Christmas.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want to make a mess of it again,’ and Sophie can’t help it, she laughs a little.

It was this silly game of theirs, of who could give the other the more ingenious present, Christmas, birthdays, even Easter. It didn’t have to be expensive, just something that was truly theirs, and for that Sophie was simply grateful.

It’s Saturday evening and Luc and Madeleine are invited at friends for dinner. They take their time to prepare themselves, talking about the friends they are going to meet, Sophie and Etienne, and everyone else who are part of their circle. It will be a long evening, but that is good. Sophie, who trained to be a chef before managing that excellent little brasserie, Sophie will have made something wonderful, and Etienne will have many stories to tell again. The company he works for sends him everywhere to inspect the respective teams, and something strange always happens once he’s there. paris winter 11 Madeleine often wonders how it is to work with people who know they have to make you like them. She often wishes Etienne would come and inspect everyone at her internship, but this is not the time to think of that. They’re dressed and ready to go, and walk down the stairs. Outside, Luc opens his umbrella, it is large enough for two. Snow falls on the black, a soft susurrus filling the dark street. Madeleine smiles when she sees the snow, joins Luc under the umbrella. They talk quietly to each other, anticipating a pleasant evening as they walk quickly through the snow, holding hands happily in the cold.

November 21, 2014May 16, 2020

summer islands

It was a busy day in the VEN Centre when Ji’an was called to one of the glass offices on the upper deck. This meant that one of her superiors wanted to talk to her, probably to survey her latest project files. Superiors always did their surveys ‘in the glass’, where everyone could see what was happening, and so no irregularities could take place.

Once alerted, Ji’an quickly put together a ratio of successful and improvable trade routes to the High Falls, a sample of the latest docking logs for incoming Low Don goods, and a summary of the best price listings for the Moon Base 17 and 21 Suppliers, they were short on Os again, orange juice and olive oil. For the last five months, supplies to Bases 17 and 21 always bungled the Os which made no sense, since they were on the same tradeliners that supplied Bases 18, 19 and 20. One tradeliner after all supplied five bases. From what Ji’an surmised the Provider was clipping ratios to surpass Regulation prices, which meant that somewhere out there, someone was trading orange juice and olive oil for a criminally high price. Why was another matter, Providers could be tricky, and often broke FRs to trade with the Mainland Territories or the Outer Moon Bases that were still Deregulated. Ji’an did not worry however, she was certain to find the culprit soon.

Once she had all the information, Ji’an transferred the numbers and reports to her portable, made sure her workstation looked presentable, alerted Nuca in the neighbouring workstation that she would be ‘in the glass’ for the next half hour or so, and went to the upper deck. There was always that moment of surprise when she stepped onto a sphere and sailed up to the upper deck. Unlike other offices of the VBA, the ones in the VEN Centre were newly commissioned and had the latest state of the art interiors. There were no stairs or elevators anymore, except the emergency ones. They moved between decks by the latest spheres now, fluorescent blue, holding up to three persons of health in their force field while they transported them up the decks. Ji’an always felt an invisible hand scooped her up on the second deck and dropped her gently onto the seventh where the glass offices were, a moment of exhilaration that she genuinely enjoyed. It was almost like flying with an open glider in the skyways, though after that horrible crash three years ago, open gliding was now severely fined.

The notification said 398B7. Ji’an walked quickly, she did not want to be late. If it was Tebon, then there would be no problems, he liked her. If it was Zula or Ifeli, there would be a Look, but that was all. If it was Q’esta though… better hurry. Ji’an walked swiftly to 398B7, and already saw from afar that the glass office only had one person in it, and that person was male. It could not be Q’esta then. Ji’an relaxed, made sure her appearance was according to VBA standards, ID’d herself in and entered the office. To Ji’an’s great surprise neither Tebon nor Zula were waiting. The man who stood up to greet her was none other than Haen Ule, the merchant whose dinner she attended the week before. Ji’an was instantly alert. The VBA would not want Haen Ule to reconsider, though they had in fact talked on the morning after the dinner the merchant hosted.

Haen Ule had served a lavish breakfast for his guests, and Ji’an had finally found a few minutes to talk to him about the VBA’s wishes. Haen Ule’s trade routes connecting the South Falls with the Mallar Coast were known for their safety and steady supply. The Moon Bases the VBA provided needed a guaranteed tonage on wheat, honey fruit and rice, and Haen Ule was the merchant the VBA was confident in making this possible. Haen Ule had listened to the proposal and nodded at the appropriate places. When Ji’an finally finished her explanation, the merchant smiled, ‘I see you enjoyed yourself last night.’

It was just the kind of thing a merchant would say. Merchants, as a rule, were always bent on making trade look like a whim they succumbed to, an eccentricity they entertained out of pleasure, or a game they liked dabbling in when they had the time. When talking to them one would never imagine the weight of responsibility they carried, though Ji’an understood this feigned disinterest as a means to lighten the load. If just one tradeship was lost on its way to the Moons whole bases began to starve, not to mention what happened in the City when the trade routes were ambushed again. Such emergencies were always highly unpleasant, and Ji’an knew how it was to be out of bread or milk for weeks due to failed supplies, or that one summer where all water supply broke down and they had to store rainwater again. Thus it was generally agreed that allowing the merchants their little foibles was a small compensation for the strain of keeping the trade routes safe and steady.

Ji’an had smiled that morning, complimenting the merchant on his dinner. ‘Ah, it was nothing like the old days,’ Haen Ule had sighed. ‘Many things have happened on that gallery you were so fond of that even a House Mistress would blush to tell,’ he continued, smiling slyly, making Ji’an all the more curious. She had heard of the famous, infamous, merchant festivities that used to fill the grand houses down the Avenue, but those were all things of the past. After the Second Referendum, FRs were enforced much more thoroughly, which allowed for greater order and peace, though most of the older Citizens Ji’an knew still grumbled that people had much less fun as well. Why, no one ever said, but rumour had it that merchant festivities before the Second Referendum tended to get out of hand in ways unimaginable today.

‘Well, times go on,’ Haen Ule sighed again, ‘but I’m happy you enjoyed yourself. And I wager your khae as well.’

At this Ji’an had blushed. The resident was not her khae, and to suggest so was embarrassing. It showed the merchant had detected a closeness between them that was not appropriate between a client and a day-resident, since the merchant had to have seen the blue of day-residency. And it was true, she had enjoyed herself, so far so that she did not say anything when the resident yet again bent House Rules out of shape. The fact that the merchant noticed was not a good thing, and Ji’an had felt admonished. She finally said, ‘I think it would be difficult not to enjoy one of your dinners.’ To her surprise, the merchant laughed,

‘I guess that’s true, though I say it myself. Tell your Provider I’ll draft the contracts by the end of the week. If they have secured the loyalty of a young woman who can enjoy herself as you do, Ms Taiyge, then I think I’ve made a good bargain.’

Ji’an only smiled then, relieved, and said the VBA would be glad to hear from him, steady supply from the Mallar Coast would be more than profitable for the VBA.

‘Of course, of course. And I would be glad to have you and your khae at one of my dinners again. I will be hosting another in a month’s time. Promise me you will come.’

Hane Ule’s supply routes were important to the VBA, so Ji’an had promised to come, hoping the resident wasn’t already requested for that day. It would please the VBA to hear that she had gained the confidence of Haen Ule so far that he invited her to another of his dinners. Merchants were usually not so generous with their invitations.

Now, Haen Ule was in one of the VEN Centre’s glass offices, greeting her with a smile and asking her to please take a seat, the arica would come in a moment. Ji’an took a seat on one of the couches near the windows, they overlooked the main plazas of the Main City. Everything was bright and glistening, the green from House Gardens flashing in between, Commuters shooting through the tubes, trainees assembling on the VEN Centre’s Green. All, as it looked, was at peace.

Once the first pleasantries were spoken, Ji’an asked if there was something the merchant would like clarified after his meeting with the Provider, but Haen Ule shook his head and smiled again. He asked her how she was doing, and if the gliders took her home well. Confused, Ji’an affirmed and asked if something was the matter, was there anything he needed clarified about the contracts? The arica was brought before the merchant answered. Once the caterer left Haen Ule drank from his cup and said,

‘Ms Taiyge, my request to speak to you is purely selfish.’
‘Selfish?’
‘Yes. I was in the neighbourhood, so to speak, and thought I would take the opportunity to contact you.’
‘But – why?’
‘I wanted to ask you about your khae.’

Ji’an stared at the merchant, non-plussed. She knew merchants didn’t think much of basic courtesies, but to ask someone about their permanent resident, factual as well as not, was beyond decorum. The merchant must have noticed Ji’an’s shock, for he quickly tried to appease her.

‘Please don’t be alarmed, Ms Taiyge. It’s just that I wondered if you knew where he’s from.’

Ji’an stared at the man. Why had everyone decided to be disrespectful to her these days? She still had an acute memory of what she had to endure after she left Haen Ule’s very elegant house. Granted, Regulations would put the preliminary blame on her, since she let what began in the glider run its course. Resident Lanec was after all what Enna called ‘delicious’, and seemed intrigued by her youth and her looks. Ji’an was certain he rarely had clients as young as she, and so showed his pleasure more clearly, which was always exhilarating in a resident. That was not what had caused offence. Yes, the resident had avoided her gaze all the way back to the House afterwards. He knew she could report what happened, and probably thought she would, he had once again followed a course that was more animal than controlled. There was, however, the matter of excellent gratification, and the fact that it was not uncommon to bend, even break House Rules for pleasure. And the pleasure… the pleasure had been of such satisfaction as Ji’an did not want to miss. And anyway, if she reported, she’d have to admit she’d let it run its course. In a glider. Up in the skyways. It wouldn’t be easy explaining.

Ji’an had wanted to say something to relieve the resident’s visible discomfort, but she didn’t know what to say and decided it was best to say nothing at all. By the time they reached Cartin Place she had discarded all thoughts of reporting, she still felt too well served for that, though twice in two days was not in fact all that wise. She quickly found out why.

Once they exited the glider, they took the elevator in silence to Mistress Koun’s. The elevator came to a halt, the doors slid open, and they stepped out into the foyer, but the resident didn’t follow Ji’an into the lobby. He turned and disappeared through one of the side doors without even saying good-bye, not even with a nod. From one moment to the next he simply disappeared. Ji’an just stood on the stylized crane and watched the door slide close. She at first didn’t fully believe it. After those looks of apprehension futuristic space4 and guilt, she would never have expected this open show of disrespect. It was unheard of. Ji’an had had to fight for composure. It did not help to know that half of it was her very own fault. She should have reported the first time, but she didn’t, and never showed disapproval when he bent, broke or fairly discarded House Rules afterwards. Now he obviously thought he could do as he pleased.

Luckily there was no one in the foyer, and if anyone else had seen then it was only the Monitor, which meant the resident would have to answer for his actions anyway. The thought had been a little satisfying. Ji’an then went through the usual procedures with Sila at the front desk, and signed the resident back in, Sila asking the usual questions about the dinner. Ji’an answered with as much ease as she could muster, though she would have preferred to speak to Mistress Koun immediately. She couldn’t let such insubordination pass unnoticed, yet even as she filled all the necessary boxes, she didn’t ask Sila for a minute with the Mistress. Ji’an knew she had to report, but she also wanted to wait until she knew how to explain what happened in the glider. Even so, knowing what she could do, how dare he show such open disrespect? He hadn’t looked a fool. Nor did Haen Ule, but here he was, asking impertinent questions –

‘Ms Taiyge, I’m not being rude out of enjoyment,’ the merchant said seriously. ‘My questions are legitimate. I believe you have struck a bargain without knowing what it is you have bought.’
‘What bargain, sir?’ Ji’an asked, coolly.
‘You know that there are different clans of Ciorèn on teh Mainland Territories, do you not, Ms Taiyge?’

Ji’an inclined her head. Everyone knew that.

‘They are usually light-haired in some way or other, which is probably why they are so sought after. But there are some clans that are not.’
‘Why are you telling me this, Merchant Ule?’
‘Because I think your khae belongs to a caste that is otherwise unknown to the Federation.’
‘Caste? I thought you spoke of clans – ’
‘Yes, yes, I did, but naturally each clan has a caste of underlings, warriors, ruling families and so on.’

Ji’an waited, Haen Ule drank from his arica. He seemed hesitant.

‘The thing is, there is a particular caste that lives entirely on the Summer Islands –’
‘Merchant Ule – ’
‘No, Ms Taiyge, please let me finish. You will find it worth your while. The interesting thing with this particular caste,’ he began, ‘is that they are a secluded community, sworn to single worship since childhood.’

Puzzled by the merchant’s words and irritated by his forthrightness, Ji’an got to her feet.

‘Merchant Ule, I have work to do –’
‘They are priests. Of some kind. They are sworn to their strange gods and never leave the island.’

Ji’an stopped and frowned.

‘Priests? But such things are forbidden by the Federation.’
‘Yes, but as you know, the Summer Islands do not belong to the Federation -’
‘Yes, I know. These… priests, what do they do?’
‘No one knows. They never leave the island.’
‘Merchant Ule, I am still at a loss why you are telling me this.’
‘I met one of them once, a whole group in fact – ’
‘But the Summer Islands are beyond the Protectorate – ’
‘I know and we did not go there on purpose. There was a vicious storm and one of the tradeliners had to land for repairs. The nearest coast was one of their islands. Believe me we didn’t want to land, but it was either that or drowning. We thought they would kill us and make their blood offerings to their demon gods, but they simply watched and waited until we left. I was responsible for the crew, so I had to make sure nothing dangerous took place. One of them could speak properly so we had some kind of conversation.’
‘Yes, but what –’
‘And they all, to the last, looked like your khae.’

Ji’an sat down again, trying to find the right words.

‘You mean…?’
‘I’ve heard that the bondsmen have started to search further south,’ the Merchant said, eyeing Ji’an carefully. ‘Some of the higher Houses have made certain requests, but I didn’t believe it until I saw your khae. Does your House Mistress know what she’s doing?’

The merchant looked very grave now and Ji’an still didn’t know what to say.

‘They are dangerous, Ms Taiyge,’ Haen Ule continued. ‘Some, I guess, enjoy the fruits of civilization, but most of them are not to be trusted. And to take them to a House! A whole caste trained to celibacy from the day they – ’
‘Celi-what?’ Ji’an frowned.
‘Ah, yes, you are too young. You wouldn’t know. Celibacy. They swear never to touch a woman.’

Ji’an still didn’t understand.

‘Who would do that?’
‘It’s part of their strange custom. Every youth sent to that island swears this oath. Maybe that’s why they stay on the Summer Islands, I was told they are inhabited entirely by men.’
‘And how do they continue their generations?’
‘It’s a mystery. No one knows. We were lucky to get off the island unharmed.’
‘And you think my – you think he’s one of those… celibacies?’
‘Priests. Their priests are celibate,’ the merchant said, drinking from his arica.

Ji’an went through everything she had just heard, but still couldn’t understand why the merchant was telling her this.

‘I am still at a loss as to why you are telling me this, Merchant Ule.’
‘Just so you know if something happens,’ the Merchant said seriously.
‘Happens?’
‘If your khae acts against custom or courtesy, that is. They were not raised in the Federation. A civilized life is unknown to them, even if your House Mistress clearly did some very good educationing. Still, I thought you should know. The Summer Islands are a dangerous place, and I do not think their inhabitants lose their wild ways once accustomed to the Federation. Even animals can be cunning, Ms Taiyge, and these are wild men.’

Ji’an didn’t say anything. The merchant smiled, kindly she felt, and finished his arica. He took out an index from one of his pockets and handed it to her.

‘If you ever have a need to talk, you will find me here.’

Ji’an took the index, surprised and mystified, nodding a thank you to the merchant. It was rare that merchants of any kind handed out an index so easily.

‘I’m sorry for this,’ the merchant said, ‘but I like a woman who knows her business, and you Ms Taiyge, definitely do. If you ever need help, you will find me at that signature.’

Ji’an looked up, saw the merchant’s kind smile, and finally understood what this was. She knew the merchant had recently lost his consort to a deadly fever out in the Bays. She tried to hide her blush and docked the merchant’s index in her portable. She thanked him again and excused herself, she really had a lot of work to do. Merchant Ule was all apologies, he had disrupted her day long enough. After a few more pleasantries, Ji’an left the glass office, just as one of her superiors walked in, Ifeli, asking if all was settled. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Ji’an nodded and left for her workstation.

Sitting down at her workstation, Ji’an let her holograph screen flash to life, showing the latest com&aqs[1], yet her thoughts were elsewhere. Summer Islands. Castes. Priests. Celibacies. And finally that cold fury she couldn’t forget, that look that, now that she thought about it, had told her that one wasn’t safe. It could happen with residents, and even the Physicians didn’t understand why. The Mentalists said it had to do with an inner fault that made them think they were still in the Mainland Territories, or worse, actual Citizens, which was a pity for their state of mind. You had to be born and raised in the Federation to be a Citizen, and the Mainland Territories still refused to join the Peace. One could buy a Citizenship, that was true, but one had to prove one was worthy, and being mad and dangerous was the last thing that would lead to approval. Still, what the merchant said made Ji’an get a cup of hot arica at one of the catering stands. coffee 3

She drank her arica absentmindedly at the milk-glass stand and asked the caterer to fill another cup. Castes. Priests. Celibacies. Why would anyone swear never to touch a woman? Were there women in the Mainland Territories who swore never to touch a man? The thought was so perplexing, Ji’an couldn’t think of it in earnest. It was both ridiculous and unnerving. Who would willingly become a celibacy, man or woman? Was that part of the price they paid to their demon gods? It was so strange… but after the second cup of arica and more puzzling thoughts, Ji’an decided it was better to finish her work and return to the SSQ where she could wonder in private. If she stood here much longer one of her colleagues would start teasing her that she was being moody, and there was no need to have them smile at her in the tea rooms like that, last time was bad enough.

* * *

[1] com&aqs short for communications and acquisition suggestions: news and advertisements