Chapter 6: House Call - Justine

Paxlyn Domain had laws against murder. I faced trial for killing a man.

"Don't worry about it," Mother Regina told me. "The Vix want to give you a medal. You were under severe restraint at the time, and there are other extenuating circumstances."

"Mother Regina," Fawn reminded, "today is Justine's house call appointment. Council did approve Nolan accompanying Justine's doctors today. I'll be there with today's lessons."

Fawn was more than my big sister—and my tutor. The former crewmen of the Futile Gesture were not yet ready for normal school. I wouldn't be ready for normal school because of my gender. It gets repetitive explaining that Paxlyn Domain is almost all female. The figure of 99.9% (one male to a thousand females) is impossible for people brought up in two-sex societies. I had been an orphan and then in service to the HoChaRa in virtually all-male environments. Another difference was nudity and sex—HoChaRa mandated clothing and forbade sexual activities, especially homosexuality. Paxlyn Domain was openly lesbian and a large part of the population was naked by law—nudity was optional for the rest. The two empires could have been more different. As it was, I felt as if I had stepped through the looking glass at times.

Criminals were treated as differently as chalk and cheese in the two societies. HoChaRa believed in making examples of their criminals—torture and death were their lot. A criminal in HoChaRa, once tossed into the grinding jaws of Justice, had a short, painful, hopeless existence. In Paxlyn Domain people lived an impossibly long time and in perfect health. Criminals were regarded as sick people in need of treatment. Both societies had about the same number of children—but "child" was defined differently in each society. HoChaRa established "adulthood" by chronological age, by number of years elapsed since birth. Annual mortality overall was 3%--and life expectancy was 60 standard years. Annual mortality for Paxlyn Domain was less than 0.03% and since the development of age regression therapy life expectancy was unlimited. A "child" was someone under care of another, a dependent, and usually was defined by something called a Blandon Scale. I don't have the details on that because it is a future learning module. Suffice it to say "children look like children." To avoid confusion, all legal children wear marks on the backs of their hands and on their left shoulders. These marks indicate first childhood (a red letter "I" in white disk), a criminal, or different medical conditions that the person was regressed to correct. Their right shoulders have specific bare-eye readable identification such as ID number, name and address code. I hadn't noticed mine—so much for my powers of observation! Silvia had to tell me about them. Only then did I notice that these codes were also worn by Babs, Becky and Fawn. In the near future I was going to learn about when an adult decided to become a child again.

Most "surface" travel was by various fixed public transportation systems—moving sidewalks, some high speed capsules, even a few trains. I didn't notice any redundant systems or emergency hatches so I can only guess at a high level of system confidence in Paxlyn Domain hardware. HoChaRa systems are backed up to the nines because stuff happens—especially beyond the frontier, light years from shipyards. HoChaRa expeditions were planned on the basis of "if you didn't bring it or cannot generate it, you won't have it." Hydrogen fuel was the normal limitation—and lack of hydrogen may have been the reason for several lost expeditions. HoChaRa hardware often failed at the worst possible moment.

A few minutes by moving sidewalk brought me to Justine's home. She lived with two adult women and, unlike me, had no siblings of equal "age" but did live close to the rest of the former Futile Gesture's crew. Fawn and the Twins had left earlier. I was accompanied by Garma and Silvia—two Vix. We three did draw eyeballs because male children are rare and Vix are almost unknown in the Paxlyn Domain. Once again I noted how odd it felt that naked children would be routinely dispatched kilometers away from home without adult escort. I didn't know Garma or my precious Princess Silvia's status. A recent incident at the zoo demonstrated to me that total faith in Paxlyn Domain's surveillance network was misplaced, but my background as an assassin and in spying on alien civilizations may have warped my judgment about anybody's security systems. So far every time I left the enclosed space called 'home' I was overwhelmed by too much stimulation and missed most my surroundings. I guess I should get used to that. For example, the first moving sidewalks were endless conveyer belts for pedestrians. They were not safe for bare feet. Paxlyn Domain moving sidewalks appear solid and seamless and are safe for bare feet and even the bare butts of children sitting on the moving pavement. I was curious as to how they worked. Mild motion sickness occurred when I tried to gauge movement. Garma scolded me softly for 'thinking too hard' as she steadied me—I almost toppled over. And then our ride on the moving sidewalk was over. It is a swift method of travel, especially when people WALK on moving sidewalks instead of simply stand there blocking traffic—or sitting down and becoming a navigation hazard.

My own home was much larger than Justine's. Her apartment had six rooms: a family room, a kitchen and dining room, a small bedroom for Justine, and a larger bedroom for Mother Kate and Mommy DeeTee, plus a bathroom far more lavish than starship freshers, and a room that remained locked while I was there. I don't know what was behind that green door and if nobody told me, it was none of my business! Mother Kate turned out to be Matron's personal chef. I guess the Matron was something like a mayor—or higher. Fawn is teaching me Paxlyn Domain's ways as rapidly as I can absorb them, ways that real children take years to absorb—if not decades.

"What are you watching?" Fawn scolded. I watched Fawn take a data pad from a girl I recognized as Justine, formerly Justin Barnes, captain of the Futile Gesture. "Girl wrestling? What was your assignment, Justine?"

"I was just watching it for a moment," Justine whined.

SMACK! Fawn slapped Justine's bare butt.

"I was supposed to be studying High Tea," Justine answered.

"Then set the table," Fawn commanded.

Fawn was never that cross with me!

"There's two of them?" Justine pointed at the Vix.

"Yes," Garma answered. "We're in Nolan's pack."

"You talk?" Justine's face could have illustrated 'astonished' in the language data base. "I apologize, Silvia. Another case where I should have listened to Nolan. We'd still be free if I had."

Both Vix and myself were introduced to Mother Kate and Mommy DeeTee. It was a two-career family. Mother Kate spent six hours a day away from home for nine out of ten days working as the chief of the Matron's kitchen. That didn't seem like enough time to me but I kept my tongue still. There's so much I don't know, and communicators like to say "you can't receive in transmit mode" even though full duplex comms have been the norm for centuries. Mommy DeeTee looked the part of an athletics coach and she spent up to 40 hours every ten days running a sports program and in some personal physical training. Note: both Mother Kate and Mommy DeeTee wore clothing. Mother Kate wore the traditional white cook's outfit complete with that funny hat. Mommy DeeTee wore light shoes and a unitard that fit her buff body like a coat of paint. For a moment I thought Mommy DeeTee WAS wearing only body paint—but even well-fitting cloth will bunch up and wrinkle. The unitard extended just past elbows and knees and the crew neck fitted her throat okay. I didn't see seams, wondered how Mommy DeeTee answered Mother Nature's calls.

My entire family were on permanently nude status. It had something to do with my emotional well-being. I reminded myself to thank them when we had dinner tonight. While unaware of all they were doing for me, they were motivated by my welfare. Paxlyn Domain may have been another totalitarian government, but at least their fascism wore a smiley face instead of a snarl. Usually. Fawn was never cross with me and it must have been a burden.

"I heard that you do wonderful things with those dreadful emergency rations," Mother Kate said. "I've tried them. They're not edible."