Chapter 9: The Paxlyn Domain Way

Fawn was teaching me about Paxlyn Domain society on a field trip. It was just Fawn and myself strolling the moving sidewalks in public. I had slipped into the child's mindset of the Now, where there was no time. No past. No future. Just the unending Present. I was living moment to moment and I didn't recognize it until Fawn's walking lecture.

"Body and mind are linked," Fawn said. "If you are in a child's body, you soon experience the child's mind. You see things from a child's viewpoint. You think as if you were a child—and not as an adult in a small body."

I thought about inserting something about the totality of environment, about how being treated like a child was perhaps more important than having a little body—but decided that arguments were counter-productive. Besides, it was time to empty my bowl. If my bowl was full of stew, any dessert would simply slop stew out of the bowl.

There was dessert aplenty surrounding us. I regarded Fawn as primo eye candy. Slender, blonde—she was almost fairy-like. Blonde hair currently clipped in something called a Page Boy. Blue eyes. Small breasts. Smooth-skinned. Her nipples were pale—and at the moment they were puffed up. Fawn was taller than me—but she was smaller than most of the adults, too. Being petite made her non-threatening to me, but I had motives to please the young lady. Perhaps some of those motives were imposed upon me by Council, the computer network running Paxlyn Domain.

I was uninterested in the fact or fantasy of being controlled by others. First, I had to internalize the Paxlyn Domain way. I could figure out how I felt about it later. We humans are conformists to a fault. Despite pretense of independence, we humans base our identities on the observed norm surrounding us. It is the way of social creatures. The observed norm: I am a child. I hoped that I'd be a good child—a real little boy. Poor Pinocchio!

One naked person in a social setting is novelty. Most of the people in view were naked—and female. All children were required to be naked in public. It was part of the conformity, of social control—clothed children can more easily hide abuse. I did see signs of abuse—several children had bruises on their buttocks and thighs. Some even had blisters. Yes, that frightened me, until I observed that these were all fresh. Bruising stages begin with pink flesh that may become an angry red during the injuring incident. Those bruises purple, and then their coloring becomes a series of yellows and browns as the bruising heals. Bruises are burst capillaries beneath the skin. As these microscopic blood vessels heal and as the dead red blood cells are removed by circulation, the skin returns to its 'normal' hue. All the bruises I observed were fresh, and sometimes the owner of the bruises were still sniveling and weeping.

"You are quiet today, Nolan," Fawn observed.

"I'm a simplex system," I explained. "I can send or receive, but not both at once. You have a lot of things I need to listen to. I can send an occasional handshake so that you know I'm still on line and in sync, but you'll have to tell me when that is just right. Too much, like now, and I miss what you're saying. Too little and you may think that I have stopped listening."

"Do you know where I'm taking you today?" Fawn asked.

"No, mum," I responded. "I only need to know that I'm supposed to be with you today and then keep up with you. It's part of being a child—ignorance."

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Fawn mused. "I'll have to review your education. We are going to Corrections today to witness execution of sentences."

Execution? Generic term for imposing punishment. In HoChaRa the term 'execution' was normally imposing a death penalty. HoChaRa had several different levels of death penalty, mostly cruel and unusual in order to cow HoChaRa subjects. Believe me, I was among the cowed. Fawn didn't elaborate on 'execution' and I used my limited mental discipline to stop speculating on what horrifying events I was about to endure.

The auditorium held perhaps a thousand people. The stage was bare except for the banner of Paxlyn Justice hanging on the back wall—a white rectangle with scales balanced on a sword tip. The auditorium was full except for one seat in front of the stage. Fawn led me there, sat on the seat and had me sit on her lap facing the stage.

"Be brave, Nolan," she whispered. "Some of us become ill witnessing these executions."

"Will you be all right?" I asked.

"Yes," Fawn answered. "That's what I like about you, Nolan. You are considerate."

I didn't recognize the five convicts at first. They were naked—and completely bald. Four were adult females and one was adult male—at first, I didn't notice their primary and secondary sexual characteristics. The man in profile exhibited a painfully stiff erection—his last, according to the announcer. The women were sentenced to 100 years correctional custody and the man received a 500 year sentence. I recognized their crimes when video clips of six criminals in clothing appeared over their heads—they were the gang that had taken my sisters and me hostage.