Authors: Kathryn Lance
One afternoon when Evvy and the Mistress were alone, the old woman startled her at her reading by asking, “Did Zach ever tell you why he brought you here?”
Evvy shook her head. “He told me it was where he grew up, and that I would like it here.”
“Do you?”
Evvy stared at the old woman. “Yes, of course.”
“Are you happy with your work?”
Evvy shrugged. She couldn’t understand why the old woman was asking her these things. It seemed to her the work here was like the work of humans everywhere, hard and necessary: the planting and gathering of crops, the trapping and hunting of animals, the making of soap and candles and collecting of oil for lamps, spinning and weaving and sewing, accumulating and bartering. The only difference was that here in the Garden all these things were done by women.
“There is a great deal more to the Garden than you imagine,” the old woman went on. “We are doing important work here – work vital to the survival of the race. It’s my feeling that Zach thought you could help us with it. That’s why he brought you here.”
Evvy frowned, not certain how she should respond. She thought perhaps the old woman’s mind was wandering, the way her first-father’s had before he died.
“You know there are no boys past late childhood here,” said the Mistress. “When they reach that age we send them to the Capital, to work for the Principal. With girls it is different. In their thirteenth year they are given a choice – to stay or to leave. Those who stay are formally dedicated to the Garden and its true purpose.
“Those who come here later, like you, must learn a great deal before taking the decision. Mira and I feel you are almost ready. But before we finish training you, we must know – are you prepared to dedicate your life to the Garden and its purposes?”
Evvy sat motionless, the carved back of the wooden chair pressing into her spine. She was confused and not a little frightened. “I don’t know,” she finally said.
“You must decide,” said the Mistress.
Evvy felt tears at the backs of her eyes. Like so many things in her life, this necessity for a choice was being thrust on her abruptly, with no time to consider. Then she realized what her answer must be. “I can’t decide anything until Zach returns,” she said.
“Ah, child. You still believe he is alive?”
“I know he is.”
The old woman was silent for some moments, her lips smacking together while she thought. At last she sighed. “You may be right,” she said. “But if he were to return, it would only be to see that you are safe. He cannot stay here and he would not take you with him.”
The hidden tears began to spill. “You don’t know that!”
“Evvy, I’m going to tell you something about Zach that you may not wish to hear. When he was a very young man, he did not leave the Garden as most boys do. That is, he left the compound, but he remained nearby, supplying our wood while his wife continued to work here.”
His wife
. Evvy felt as if her heart had stopped beating. How could she not have known? All this time she had been waiting for him to come back for her, when in reality he would have returned to another woman. She tried to think who, of the older women, it might be. Fat Gunda? Proud Mira? Or perhaps she no longer lived here and was waiting for him in the Capital. Perhaps he was with her even now.
“Is she still here?” Evvy asked, feeling sick and defeated.
“Here? Oh, no,” said the Mistress. She seemed suddenly to come to herself and gazed directly at Evvy. “She died many years ago. But she is more of a rival to you than you can imagine.”
Evvy just looked at the old woman, embarrassed to be so transparent, and wanting to know more, though she feared to hear it.
“They married very young, Zach and Leya. They were in love – unusual in these times. But Leya soon conceived a girl-child, and less than a year after the marriage gave birth and died of the woman sickness.”
Evvy bit at her knuckle, her heart breaking for Zach’s loss and her own.
“It was very soon after that Zach left us for good, to join his brother, who had left two years before. He told me before he went that he had taken a vow never again to be with a woman, never to cause that to happen again.”
“But men don’t have anything to do with the woman sickness,” Evvy blurted, wanting even now to talk Zach out of such a dreadful vow.
“They have everything to do with it,” said the Mistress. “Zach knew that, and I’m sure he has kept his vow all these years. By keeping it, he has helped to carry on our work.”
Once again, Evvy felt the loss of Zach as if it had just happened. Yet still she felt that he was alive, somewhere, and that she would see him again. But she also knew that Zach, once he had made a vow, would let nothing prevent him from keeping it.
“So you see that if Zach lives, he will never be anything but a father to you. Despite your ignorance and impatience, you are a bright girl. We are offering you a rare opportunity. You may join us and stay here, working to save the human race. Or if you choose to leave we, will find you suitable husbands. But I can promise you that Zach would have wanted you to stay.”
Evvy felt dizzy. Her world had suddenly turned inside out. This final loss of Zach made her ache all over.
Yet another part of her was strangely exhilarated. Whatever the nature of this mysterious work she was being asked to give her life to, it promised to hold more interest than years of poverty with a pair of husbands, waiting to die of the woman sickness. Even more important, the work had been important to Zach.
If he lived, Zach might someday return and be proud of her. If not – she would keep his memory alive. He had given her a new life. In return, she would take a vow of her own. If she could not be with Zach, then never would she be with any man. As Zach had remained true to his dead wife, so she would remain true to his memory.
She approached the Mistress and held out her hands.
“I will stay,” she said.
T
HE CEREMONY WAS HELD ON
the day exactly one year since she had first arrived at the Garden. Once it was known she had chosen, Evvy was treated differently, with a new respect, by Gunda, Hilda, Mira, and the other elder women. The younger girls seemed excited and envious of her, while the boy-children, as always, went about their business silently, as if they moved in shadows.
For the first time Evvy understood what it must be like to grow up knowing that the most important choices in your life had been made for you. Only last week, Jimmy had been delivered to a neighboring farmer who was to take him to the Capital. Evvy, practicing sword work with Katha in the broad front yard, heard his sobs and pleas and wanted to comfort him. Instead she turned her head and brought all her concentration to the movements she must make.
In the four months since her talk with the Mistress, Evvy had been very busy. Because of increasing outlaw attacks in the area, Katha had initiated daily weapons and self-defense drills for all women and older girls. In addition to weapons work and her regular chores, the Mistress and Mira had greatly increased the reading Evvy was required to do, insisting that she stay up till late at night to finish, if necessary.
Evvy didn’t mind, for the things she was learning were fascinating. At first, she was given books and journals about the world just before the Change. These books told her a great deal more than her folk-learning or the classes she had taken here at the Garden. Like every child in the District, Evvy had been told that the Change occurred when the wild deenas ate up the machines’ food; she had always assumed that the machines had been animals of some sort, made by men but at least half-alive. Now she learned that they had been constructed of metal and were no more alive than a house. Their food had been a special kind of oil, which came from the ground where it had been formed millions of years ago. Burning this oil gave the machines the power to move and to perform their miraculous work. Other things had been made of oil which was changed in special ways: clothing, machine parts, and even some kinds of furniture.
Evvy learned that the area where she lived had once been just a small part of a vast nation populated from one great ocean to another, and that across those oceans had been other nations just as great and populous. Even more astonishing, she learned that in the days before the Change most women had looked forward to childbearing, which had been nearly without danger, and in some cases could even choose the sex of their child.
She read of these and many other marvels of life before the Change, not understanding how they all fit together. The Mistress promised that it would all become clear at the initiation.
There was a full moon that night, by chance; Evvy took it as a good sign. The moon always made her think of Zach, and she knew he would be pleased and proud if he could know what was happening tonight.
The younger children had been put to bed early. Dark curtains had been drawn across all the windows of the long, low lab building.
Evvy had hoped that she would be allowed to bring Baby to the ceremony; her pet’s presence always comforted her. But Baby, who usually waited until after Evvy was asleep to push her way past the window slats to hunt, had, inexplicably, demanded to be let out after the evening meal. Once outside she had begun to set up such a howling that Gunda had gone out and shooed her away from the lodge. The little animal had seemed nervous and excitable all day, once snapping at Evvy in irritation. Evvy wondered if her pet were perhaps in heat, and if it could be dangerous for her to mate with a wild fox cat; she resolved to discuss the matter with Gunda and Lucille the next day.
Or perhaps, she decided, Baby’s unsettled mood was due simply to the presence of the full moon or to her own barely suppressed excitement.
Evvy and Lucky dressed carefully in clean tunics and long, southern-fashioned skirts, then took turns twisting each other’s hair into an adult knot at the back of the neck. They had been warned not to discuss the rite and chattered nervously of inconsequential matters, Lucky giggling often, but with an edge of nervousness Evvy had never before heard in her voice. Evvy tried to sound and appear calm, but she found herself continually touching her feathered bracelet, as if it somehow contained Zach’s reassuring presence. When they were satisfied with their appearance, the girls sat side by side on benches in the women’s quarters, where they would hereafter sleep. There was a knock at the door, and Evvy and Lucky looked at each other, then rose and followed Gunda out across the moonlit yard to the lab.
Evvy had never before been in this adults-only preserve; like the Mistress’s cabin, the walls of the lab were lined with row upon row of books, and mysterious metal and glass instruments were neatly arranged on four long, chest-high wooden tables. Gathered solemnly at one end of the room were the senior women of the Garden, each wearing a loose-fitting white jacket over her clothing.
Flickering candles and fish-oil lamps cast a dark glow across the room and the faces of the women in it.
The Mistress was seated on a stool among the other women. Gunda conducted Evvy and Lucky down an aisle between the high narrow tables. Evvy’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure it could be heard, and her hands were cold and damp. Although she was aware of the women of the Garden looking on, she felt as if she and the Mistress were the only two people in the entire world.
“Evvy, daughter of Eugenia,” the old woman said. “Lucky, daughter of Lucille. You have been called to the Garden. You have been given the choice to leave or to stay. This is your last opportunity to affirm your decision. If you choose to stay, you will devote your entire life to our cause. You will do as our leaders ask, always, instantly, without question. You will do this for the highest good there is – the future of the human race. Do you understand?”
Evvy nodded. “Yes,” she said.
“Yes,” murmured Lucky. Evvy could feel the younger girl trembling next to her. She reached out and took Lucky’s hand. The Mistress gazed at both of them for what seemed a very long time, then spoke again.
“Repeat after me. I am a Daughter of the Garden.”
Both girls repeated the phrase in unison.
“I belong to the Garden, and to all humankind. The will of the leaders is my will; and the good of mankind, my goal. I will live my life in service, as a Daughter of the Garden.”
When they had finished the vow, Lucky had stopped trembling and Evvy felt exhausted. Now Gunda, Hilda, and a handful of other women approached. carrying handwritten scrolls, They stood in a semicircle around the Mistress, facing Evvy and Lucky. Then the Mistress began to speak again.
“We tell the story of the Garden whenever we receive new Daughters. We tell it so we will not forget. We tell it so that the good can go on, and the evil that has been done may remain buried. We preserve, we build, and we create, for we are the scientists of the Garden.”
Afterward, Evvy could remember only the smoking candles and the sounds of the words, but not the words themselves. A year ago she would have been shocked to learn that the women of the Garden were scientists, whom she had always believed to be the worst kind of criminals, but now the knowledge seemed natural, expected, and comforting. She had read enough of the ancient and near past to know that almost everything she had believed her whole life was superstition and untruth. As the senior women had related the story of the Change in singsong rhythm, Evvy imagined she had witnessed the events they described. She could visualize the great ships moving the oil needed by machines from countries where it was plentiful to those where it was not. She saw the seas crowded with tankers the size of cities, and watched the waters become dark and foul as there were accidents.
Several women read together, in mournful tones, telling how the sticky, black oil began to accumulate on the waters, spoiling them, choking the seaweed, fishes, and birds. Evvy imagined she could see clots of oil washing onto the beaches, streaking them with dark slime and killing the animals who lived there.