Authors: Pamela Sargent
"Yoshi let me stay," Chimene objected. "I'm more ahead in my lessons than the others. Why shouldn't I —"
"People don't like it when you demand too many favors," Risa answered. "You'd better start learning that, Chimene."
"It wasn't a favor. Anyway, Yoshi said I have to do a report tomorrow about what the pilot told me, so the others'll hear all about it."
"And have you prepared one?" Risa said.
"Yes."
"Then you can come to your room with me and help me mend the tunic and pants you ripped. If your father insists on wasting credit having Grete make nice clothes for you, the least you can do is learn how to take care of them. Patrick, you should probably be studying instead of playing games."
Chen resumed his carving; Patrick heaved a sigh as he picked up his screen. Malik walked toward the hallway, deciding that he would call Theron from his room.
* * *
"So you think the children need more lessons in history and literature," Malik said when Theron had finished speaking.
"Among other things."
"I'm not sure why. Some of the parents will complain that they're pursuing those studies at the expense of more important parts of the curriculum."
Theron frowned as he stroked his short brown beard. "I thought you'd leap at the chance to design a new program for them," the other teacher said. "It's at least as important as setting up your little lectures and discussions for Islanders and others — maybe more so."
Malik had to agree. He and Theron had often talked of the deficiencies in the curriculum. The children were largely taught skills and knowledge that had a practical end in view. Theron felt that they needed a broader base, a wider perspective from which to consider their own lives, more knowledge of the achievements and failures of the past, and the intellectual tools that would enable them to arrive at their own values and goals. In short, if they were to govern themselves, they needed to know how to think.
Malik had not expected that his colleague was now ready to put his views into practice. Perhaps he had encouraged Theron too much by agreeing with him and pointing out that the power of the Mukhtars lay partly in their control of information and the education offered to the citizens of the Normachies.
"You see what most of our charges will become," Theron continued, "people who will do their work with a vague sense that it's worthwhile and contributes to the Project, and who measure their progress mostly by whatever credit or goods their households manage to attain. Oh, they think they're better off than they would be on Earth, but they couldn't say why. They believe our way has more to offer a human being than that of the Habbers, but they wouldn't be able to explain that either."
Malik leaned toward his small screen. "Most of them may not be capable of much more."
"Now you sound like an Earthman again. I thought you knew better by now. You've complained to me often enough. You've got a daughter, and you'd like to broaden her mental horizons, wouldn't you?"
"Of course." He refused to admit that he rarely discerned the mental spark in other children that he saw in Chimene. His child was better than the others; that was also an Earth-like thought.
"They begin by being curious," Theron said, "and then they learn to close their minds to things that don't appear useful, but they yearn for something we don't provide. They're too vulnerable to a group like Ishtar, which feeds their longings and resentments with its high-flown talk of a spirit that lives in us all and the perfect world we'll have. They don't even have the tools to assess the way Kichi Timsen distorts history in her talks. All they know is that, if it makes them feel better to believe it, then it must be true."
"I haven't noticed that Ishtar's made many inroads lately." Malik looked away from Theron's image tor a moment. "Maybe we worry about them too much. I can't say that I care for their notions, but —"
"What is it, Malik?" Theron tilted his head. "Is it the extra work? I know you'd earn more credit elsewhere, but you're the only teacher we have with enough education in these fields to set up a worthwhile program. I've discussed this with one of the Island Administrators, and she thinks it's worth pursuing, even if some object."
"People who think too freely and openly for themselves can be troublesome," Malik replied, "as I've had ample reason to discover."
"This isn't Earth."
Malik smiled a little. Even if their students willingly accepted these intellectual offerings, the demands of their lives would force them to put such pursuits aside. Did Theron think that the children would leam how to reason their way to a clear-eyed acceptance of their lot? They might instead become more conscious of their limits here; perhaps some would begin to long for what the Habbers offered, as Malik did.
"Do consider this," Theron said. "It could be a real contribution."
A contribution I'm not making now, Malik thought. His lectures and seminars were only a minor intellectual recreation; his words, like Chen's carvings, were little more than toys to be amused by and to display to one's friends. He was no longer bitter about that; since his audience expected so little, he did not have to confront the issues and doubts that troubled him directly.
But if he were to give his young students a meaningful experience, he would have to raise such issues and contend with them openly. He would have to be provocative, and some were certain to see that as dangerous. His spirit warmed to the challenge for a brief instant and then faded. Time spent on this venture would have to be subtracted from the lectures that both earned him more credit and removed him, for a little while, from Risa's troubled glances and petulant complaints. Challenging his students to think for themselves and ask difficult questions might raise doubts about his loyalty to this new world — doubts that would, in a way, be justified.
He had won a kind of peace for himself, even if it was only the peace of surrender. Better to keep what he had, win what he could for Chimene, and leave the future of this world to others.
"I will think about it," Malik said at last. He was committing himself to very little, and wondered if he could cleverly devise an innocuous program that would also satisfy Theron.
"Good. Do come by when you want to discuss this further. You've done so well with the students you've taught."
Theron's image faded. He had failed his students already, whatever the other teacher thought; they mastered their lessons and little more.
The door opened. "Something's wrong in the bathroom," Risa said as she entered the room.
"I know. I'll speak to Emilia."
"I put Chimene to bed. She claims you promised her a story, but I told her she'd just have to do without one. You didn't fool me, you know. You probably just happened to be in the main dome while Chimene was wandering around, and then you craftily cover up for her while telling me that I don't pay enough attention to her."
"She didn't do anything so wrong."
"She knows the rules," Risa said, "and you're not setting a very good example by showing off in front of her."
"You're too hard on her."
Risa sat down on the bed. "You indulge her too much, Malik. I know she's young, but she has to learn that she can't always do what she likes. I don't want her to get the idea that she'll be treated any differently from anyone else." She paused. "She told me you met someone today — a woman named Katya."
"Yekaterina Osipova. I knew her in the camp. Kolya knew her, too."
"And was she —"
"Katya and I were lovers, if that's what you want to know." He lifted his head. "It was over even before I left the camp. She was only here waiting for her ship to be repaired before going on to al-Khwarizmi. We didn't talk long. Her brother Alexei Osipov is one of the new settlers here, and she wanted to see him."
Risa's eyes narrowed. "I hope you and he weren't close."
"We weren't."
"Just as well. His name's come up in a couple of complaints lately — fights, that sort of thing. We'd be better off without such people."
"Camps wear people down with waiting," he said. "Maybe he just needs time to adjust."
"You can find excuses for anyone, can't you?"
He did not feel like contradicting her. "Helder Arneld wants me to meet with his little group in a few days, when our youngest students have a couple of weeks off from school. His younger sister's still on the northern Bat, so he told me I could stay there for the three days we'll be meeting — it makes more sense than walking all that distance there from here every day. I thought Chimene might come with me."
"Have you promised her she could?" Risa asked.
"I thought I'd ask you first."
"I'd rather she didn't, then. She might better spend the time doing her chores and helping in the greenhouse instead of traipsing around the southeast dome."
"Don't you think a change might be good for her?" He stood up and moved toward the bed as Risa got to her feet.
"Sometimes," she whispered, "I think you only stay with me because of her."
"That's ridiculous," he said evenly, and covered her mouth with his before she could reply. His hands slipped under her shirt. He still had one way of reaching her and of pretending that everything was right between them. Her lips softened under his as she clutched at his back; he closed his eyes.
Fourteen
"You don't need a consultation," Bettina said as Risa sat down on the examination table. "Your med-scan is perfectly normal, as I expected." Risa said nothing. "Are you looking for a medical excuse not to run for the Council again?"
Risa shook her head.
"You and Malik are thinking of another child, then."
"I'd like one," Risa admitted, "but I don't know if Malik does."
"Why not ask him?"
Risa folded her arms and hunched forward. "Tina, I don't know what to do."
The physician settled back in her chair. Bettina, Risa thought, had probably guessed that her problem was not medical when Risa had asked to speak to her here. Grazie and Emilia would be of no help, Grazie would sympathize but was also likely to gossip; Risa had gained various nuggets of information from her in the past. Emilia assumed that almost everyone shared her even, placid temperament and would be surprised that Risa had a problem.
"I haven't heard that kind of thing from you since you were a girl," Bettina said. "What's wrong?"
"It's Malik," Risa responded. "That can't be much of a surprise."
"It is. You two seem to be more distant, but that's normal enough, and we always knew he was a different sort of man."
"I've tried not to be too obvious about my feelings." Risa sighed. "We certainly can't have a Council member looking as if she's got troubles with her bondmate. I can't even talk to Noella — she'd probably say something to Theron, and then he'd try to give Malik some friendly advice, which wouldn't help."
"Is it that your feelings for him aren't as strong or have his cooled?"
Risa stared at the pale green floor. "I feel the same way I always have. I love him, Tina, but he doesn't love me."
Bettina cleared her throat. "Has he said so? Does he fail you in bed? Is he cruel to you in some way I'm unaware of?"
"No, it's nothing like that. He probably thinks I'm cruel to him. I say things before I can stop myself, words I know won't do any good."
"Why do you say them, then?" Bettina asked.
"Because when I do, at least he looks at me and sees me — he knows I'm there. The rest of the time he closes himself off. It'd almost be better if he hated me, because then he'd be feeling something for me. Even when he makes love to me, he seems to be somewhere else, as if he's imagining another woman." She thought of the night he had returned from the southeast dome. In the middle of their lovemaking, she had suddenly cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to gaze into her eyes; he had looked shocked, almost surprised to find her there.
"Do you think his affections have strayed?"
"I don't know," Risa said. "If there were anyone in Oberg, I would have heard some gossip by now, and whatever happens on the Islands can't matter or he'd find excuses to go there more often. Anyway, he'd hardly risk actions that would make Chimene think less of him, and she's too young and possessive to understand anything like that."
"You sound almost as if you view the child as a rival."
"Maybe she is," Risa muttered. "If he could find an excuse to leave and take her with him, he might. He thinks I'm too hard on her and that I don't love her enough. It isn't true, but if I left her upbringing entirely to him, he'd give her anything she wants so that she'd love him all the more."
"He's not a bad father — better than some."
"I know that," Risa responded, "and I'm grateful, but I don't want him passing on his own failed hopes to her. He's tried to adjust, but he lost so much when he came here. I want him to be content with what he has now and to feel he has something to offer, but I always end up sounding as though I'm criticizing him. And Chimene's like him — she's beginning to think she was made for better things. I don't want her to be like that. I see the same look in their eyes sometimes — as if they both see me as somebody who's imprisoning them."
She had thought that speaking to Bettina might ease her mind, but the self-pitying words that imperfectly captured how she felt disgusted her. Her chest ached, and if she wasn't careful, she might cry; she had always loathed such sodden displays. She had made her choice; what Malik had given her should be enough.
Bettina said, "What you need is another man."
Risa gaped at her, then laughed softly. "That sounds like something my grandmother Angharad would say, assuming I could ever explain this to her." She wiped at her eyes. "You sound just like a Plainswoman now."
"There's some wisdom among Plainsfolk. It's easier when men and women come together in bed and live separate lives the rest of the time — it keeps you from muddling your life and confusing sex with your need for love." Bettina smoothed back a few gray strands in her reddish hair. "But that isn't possible here, and your father's shown me that deeper attachments can exist."