Chapter 8

The streetcar pulled to a stop near the Zone. Lise hopped off the platform in back and headed through one of the gates in the wall separating the novonid ghetto from the rest of Vyonna. She reached her courtyard and found Rayla lying on the concrete bench, sunning herself.

“Tagg’s waiting for you downstairs,” she said. “He has some news.”

Lise sprinted down the stairs. “Tagg?”

He handed her a red twenty-five unit scrip card. Lise read the punches and saw twenty units remained on it. “I sold those sketches. The same guy who bought the first one gave me forty for the others.”

Rayla worked her way down the stairs.

“Forty units, Mother!”

“That’s wonderful,” Rayla replied.

Lise threw her arms around Tagg. She leaned to kiss him but he pulled away. “Tagg ... what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Lise ... My owner found me.”

“And?”

“He has a job for me.”

“Where?”

“At the big eatery in Quadrant Two, up in sector six. I’ll be busing tables and cleaning up.”

“When do you start?”

“Tonight — in a little while.”

“Tonight?”

“It’s a night job.”

“When will you be home?”

“That’s the problem. I won’t be done until after curfew, so I won’t be home until morning. They have a barracks there for the workers who stay overnight.”

“Oh, Tagg! No!” She began crying.

“They’re giving me one day off per pay period, and the restaurant is closed another. That’s two days off.”

“Two days out of ten!”

“Since it’s a night job I can still go to the park and sketch. What about those three rest days when you don’t go to Megan’s? We can be together, then.”

“Oh, Tagg...” She wiped tears from her eyes. “How much are they paying?”

“One fifty.”

“How much of it can you keep?”

“None of it. My owner says I still owe for my registration.”

“They all say that,” Rayla interjected. “Registrations seem to cost more and more as time goes on.”

“You could make more sitting in the park and sketching. Did you tell your owner what a talented artist you are?”

“I didn’t dare. If he knew I was making money from it, he’d claim it’s really his and want it. I’ve already spent some. Lise — I have to go.”

“No, Tagg...”

“Please — don’t make it more difficult. I must go. You KNOW what’ll happen if I don’t show up.”

“I know...”

He pulled from her embrace. “I’ll see you later.”

He headed up the stairs, stopped halfway, turned and waved.

Lise collapsed, sobbing in her mother’s arms. “Oh, Mother ... It’s not fair!”

“It never is.”

“I thought we’d be so happy together.”

“You will be together, two nights out of ten.”

“But, Mother ... Eight nights out of ten we won’t be.”

“The nights you’re apart will make the ones you’re together more special.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

“It’s better than none at all. When I was your age and living on the pomma farm — we weren’t permitted relationships with men. We lived apart and the overseers determined who we’d spend...”

“You’ve TOLD me this already, Mother.” She sniffed and wiped tears from her cheeks. “You and Grott are SO lucky.”

“I know we are. I also know it could end on a moment’s notice. You’re lucky to have Tagg. You must live each day one at a time. Enjoy every moment you have with him. It might be the last.”

“I know...”

Rayla embraced Lise and caressed her bald head. “I had just gotten used to having him around, myself.”

Lise carried a tin can lantern into her room and set it on the floor. She slipped out of her bandeau. From her pocket she retrieved the twenty-unit card Tagg had given her and she dropped it on her mattress.

She pulled off her shorts, put out the light and flopped onto her bed. She reached under the cushion and found the fiver Tagg had given her the other day. Holding the cards in her hand she closed her eyes and sobbed herself to sleep.

The streetcar stopped near a residential neighborhood in quadrant three. She headed toward number 505 and saw Ramina’s sleek black car parked at the curb.

She rang the bell and Megan opened the door. “Lise — come in.”

“Lise,” Ramina said. “Megan was telling me how happy she is with the job you’re doing.”

“Thank you, mam.” She smiled toward Megan.

“She also told me about that awful incident with the constables. I wish you had told me about it — I would’ve had that cop’s credentials.”

“I’m sorry, mam — I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“It is my job to be bothered by such,” Ramina replied. “With all the crime out there, why should they harass law-abiding folk?”

Megan opened her bag, retrieved two blue fifty-unit scrip cards and handed them to Ramina. “Your fee.”

“Look at this, Lise — two down and thirty-eight to go.” Lise watched as Ramina put them in her bag.

“Ms Ramina?”

“Yes, Lise?”

“How ... Can...”

“What is it, child?”

“Mam, I’d like a way to keep track of the wages I earn — so I’ll know when my debt to you is paid.”

“You can trust me, Lise.”

“But, mam...”

“I understand.” Ramina opened her bag and withdrew a business card and a stylus. She made two strokes on the back of the card. “We’ll keep this as a record.”

“May I hold it?” Lise asked.

“Lise?”

“I’m sorry, mam — I would like to keep the card.”

Ramina’s eyes narrowed. “You are a sharp girl, Lise ... If I let you hold this, how do I know you won’t add an extra mark now and then — when I’m not looking?”

Lise chewed her lip. “I wouldn’t, mam. I never thought of it.”

Ramina withdrew another card. “You can recognize your own name when you see it written, can’t you, Lise?”

“Yes, mam.”

“Yes, a very sharp girl...” Ramina wrote LISE on the card and put two strokes beneath it. “I’ll keep this card and you keep that one. Every pay period I’ll add a mark to each. Does that sound fair, Lise?”

She smiled. “Yes, Ms Ramina. Thank you.”

“Good. Now, I’ll be on my way...”

“Ms Ramina?”

“Yes, Lise?”

“After the forty pay periods are up — how much of my wages may I keep? ... Mam?”

“Lise ... I have tolerated all the rude talk of wages I can for one day. We will open that discussion after another thirty-eight periods have passed. Understood?”

“Yes, mam. I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology, Lise. Now, I really must be on my way.”

Megan approached her. “I meant what I said, Lise. I’m very pleased.”

“Thank you.”

“I can see a difference in Geddes’s behavior.”

“I do, too.”

“What is your secret?” Megan asked.

“Secret?”

“For dealing with the twins.”

“Unconditional love,” Lise replied. “It’s all I have to give. Of course they know there will be consequences for misbehavior. They have learned that nonetheless I’ll never stop loving then.”

“It’s that simple ... Lise, you are the finest person I have ever met ... white or green.” Megan opened her bag and removed a yellow five-unit scrip. “This is for you. I made such a fuss with the livery company over that driver who cheated you. They agreed to settle the claim for five units. I know he swindled you of thirteen, but five is better than nothing — don’t you think?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Megan opened her arms. Lise accepted the invitation and embraced her. She felt Megan’s arms around her back. Lise rested her face against Megan’s shoulder and hugged her.

Lise released her and stepped back.

“It’s a nice day,” Megan said, “after such a stretch of dreary weather. What are your plans?”

“I’ve been feeling a bit sunstarved,” Lise replied. “I thought I’d take the twins to the park for a picnic lunch.”

“Very good. That way you get nourishment, too. I have a hamper in the closet you can use to carry their food. Don’t forget the sun bonnets.”

“I won’t.”

“Then, I’ll see you this after.” Megan gave her a little wave and headed out the door.

Lise pulled the cards from her pocket and added the new fiver to them. Thirty units! She had never held so much money. She certainly could buy a mediascreen, now. She poked the cards and Ramina’s payment ledger into her pocket.

Klarissa and Geddes struggled down the sidewalk carrying the hamper between them. They reached the corner. “Hold up, gang,” Lise said. “I’ll take the hamper across the street. You can carry it from there.”

The signal changed and Lise gestured the twins into the crosswalk. She noticed a constable’s car parked at the corner. The cop who had arrested her leaned against it, working his handheld. “Good morning, ladies ... gentleman...,” he said.

Lise smiled and snapped her head in a bow. She led the twins halfway down the block and set down the hamper. “Geddes ... Klarissa ... You can carry it the rest of the way.”

The sun had climbed above the trees and tall ferns lining the streets. Its oblique rays hit Lise’s green skin and began activating her chlorophyll. Sun-hunger was a cold, prickly sensation. Sunlight was the opposite — warm, soothing, invigorating and relaxing at the same time.

She drew in a deep breath, released it and realized how much breathing she had been doing lately. When her body was full of sunlight she need not breathe at all. Her aerobic and photosynthetic metabolisms would be in balance supplying the blood gasses she needed.

Walking to the park was the perfect level of physical activity for her as the energy-producing systems in her body started coming on line. If she were too sedentary, then her blood would become oxygen-rich and she would begin to exhale it. This was an uncomfortable state for her, too, leaving her feeling agitated and uneasy.

The sun felt good after so many days of shade. It would feel better as it climbed to the zenith, its rays becoming more direct and intense.

They reached the park. Lise put the hamper on a bench near the sandbox. “Geddes — Klarissa ... Go play.”

“When can we eat?” Geddes asked.

“When it’s lunchtime.”

“How will we know it’s lunchtime?” Klarissa asked. “You don’t carry a watch.”

“I’ll know.”

“But, how?”

Lise pointed to the sky. “When the sun is overhead, it’s lunchtime. Now — you play ‘til then.” She stretched out her long legs and leaned back to expose as much of her green skin to the sun as possible.

Klarissa helped Lise pack the empty food containers, plates and utensils into the hamper. Lise withdrew a bottle she had filled with water and took a long drink from it. “You drink so much water,” Klarissa observed.

“I need lots of water.”

“Why?”

“All my kind do. We don’t eat much, but we drink lots of water.” She capped the bottle and put it into the hamper. “Are you bored or do you and your sister want to play more?”

“The swings,” Geddes exclaimed. The children ran to them.

Lise locked her fingers behind her head and leaned back again. Her sun-hunger had dissipated. She felt an overall state of well-being as she absorbed more sunlight, recharging her biological battery in reserve for the next stretch of cloudy weather.

“May I sit here?” A man’s voice startled her.

She turned and saw a white man in early middle-age standing near the bench.

“There are other benches,” she said.

Rayla had taught Lise to remember the features of strangers who approached her. Lise made a mental inventory of this man’s appearance: medium height, athletic build, age early thirty standards, grey eyes. His dress was typical for a white Varadan man: tan trousers and a one- sleeved shirt. A brown sash, fastened behind, was thrown over his left shoulder, concealing his caste tattoo. On his head was a broad-brimmed hat of the kind frequently worn by whites to shade themselves from the harsh, midday rays.

“I would like to sit on this one. May I join you?”

She made a gesture that said suit yourself, and leaned back to absorb more sun. Lise sensed the man was watching her. She slid from him until she reached the end of the bench and regarded him out of the corner of her eye.

“I see you’re Zero-One-Zero,” the man said.

Lise glanced at her registry number. She could feel heat building in her cheeks.

“A pretty girl like you must have a nicer name than that.”

She folded her arms and looked away.

“You were brought up right,” he continued. “You were taught never to speak with strangers.” He extended his hand “My name’s Thom ... Thom Bromen.” Lise looked at her feet studying the vein that ran from inside her ankle and made a loop along the top of her foot. Then she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He held his hand out for a moment, then retracted and examined it before placing it in his lap. “I’m Thom ... you’re...” She rolled her eyes. “You’re...”

“Lise,” she relented.

“Ah, Lise. Much nicer than Zero-One-Zero, don’t you think?” Lise stared at her toes. “I think so, at least. Tell me, Lise — what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

Lise studied the back of her hand.

“Lise — we’re no longer strangers. We CAN have a conversation.”

“Please, Mr Thom...”

“No — not Mr Thom. Just Thom.” He held up his thumb and forefinger. “Short ... Thom.”

“Thom,” she replied.

“You have no reason to fear me, Lise. I work with your people.”

“Do you mean novonids?”

“Exactly. I’m writing a book on the urban novonid population and I’d love an opportunity to talk with you — to have you tell me about yourself ... your story.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that ... I have a better idea. Let me tell you what I know about you already and we’ll see how close I am. Are you game?”

She smiled. “Go ahead.”

“Let’s see...” He regarded her from head to foot. “You look about nineteen standard years old...”

“Nineteen ... and a half.”

“Close. You live in the Green Zone and for some reason or other you can’t bear children.”

Lise’s jaw dropped. “How can you tell I live in the Zone?”

“Was I right?”

“Yes, but ... How did you?”

“Well, if you could bear children, you wouldn’t be out on the streets — you’d be locked up in some breedery.”

“There are breeding females living in the Zone,” Lise replied.

“Yes — a few. However, you’re definitely not pregnant — not with your slim, sleek figure.” She smiled. “Based on your age, you should have at least one child — one not old enough to be weaned. However, there are no novonid children within eye shot. So — the likely explanation is that you are a working girl.”

Lise nodded. “Yes...”

“Would you mind sharing with me why you can’t?”

“Can’t what?”

“Bear children, Lise. There aren’t many novonid females in the workforce. Those that are, can’t.”

Lise regarded Thom for a long moment and let out an exasperated sigh. “You are the most forward man.”

“You won’t tell me?”

“No, I won’t.”

“Then let me guess ... I’ve done fairly well with guessing so far, haven’t I?” He scanned her body with his eyes. “You certainly don’t suffer from atrophied ovaries. It’s the single most common reason for infertility in novonids. If you had that condition, you’d be built like a twelve-year-old boy, not like a twenty-year-old woman.”

She sighed. “I’ve been sterilized. I’m a oneshot.”

“A oneshot ... Is your mother alive?”

“Yes...”

“Unusual ... I definitely want you in my book. I don’t encounter oneshots every day.”

“No,” Lise replied coldly. “There’s not much demand for us and we usually die young.”

“Yes — in childbirth,” Thom added. “I’ve never heard of a oneshot being sterilized. How did that come about?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Not a problem.”

“What about the other thing?” Lise asked.

“What other thing?”

“Living in the Zone.”

“Oh, yes ... Well — I went a bit out on a limb for that one. I’d say you haven’t been registered very long — certainly less than a year.”

“Yes...”

“I could tell THAT by your registration number. The RAA series is new.” He leaned toward her and held his hand to shield his voice. “It’s my job to know these things.”

Lise nodded. “That fact confounded some constables a couple of days ago.”

“Since novonids must be registered before their sixteenth standard, and since we both know you’re in your nineteenth, you must’ve spent time underground as an unregistered. Yes?”

Lise nodded. “ ... yes...”

“The only place you could do THAT and survive is in the Zone. So, I figured you at least had lived in the Zone recently.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Oh, how I want you for my book.” He began counting on his fingers. “A working female novonid who has lived underground as an unregistered and is a oneshot. What a specimen!”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to look elsewhere for your collection, Mr Thom.”

“Now, now ... Please, Lise. And, please — no Mr Thom. It’s Thom. You must understand the purpose of my book. I’m writing it to further the cause of greater autonomy for your people.”

“Autonomy?”