hour of daylight.”
“We have limited resources to reclaim people who go astray. Women must take precedence.”
Below the blindfold, a nerve twitched on Harper’s cheek. “Even women are punished in Sisterland. They’re sent to Black Particle – to Safe Space.”
Safe Space. The name caused Constance’s heartbeat to skip.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me Safe Space is just a scare-story?” he challenged.
By the nightlight’s glow, Constance began to run her hands over the walls of the mating cube, trying to find an eavesdropping device. Over and over, she’d been told the cube was private. But would Sisterland really honour that principle?
When she was through, she whispered, “What do you know about Safe Space?”
“I heard about it here in the compound. It’s how the Nine deals with opposition.”
“I’ve never heard of any opposition. But I suppose . . .”
“They’d hush it up,” he finished her sentence for her.
“There’s nothing beyond Black Particle. It’s where everything ends. That’s why Safe Space is there. But we shouldn’t talk about it. Nobody’s meant to know it exists. We could get in trouble just for speaking its name.”
“I’m going to stay out of trouble.” There was a catch in his voice. “They’ll let me go home once I’ve given them what they want. A year, I’ve been told. A year is manageable. I just have to put in the time. Inside my head, I stored an image of the last sunset I saw in my forest. I take it out and look at it when I need to – a ball of colour, bursting through the treetops. It helps to think about my forest waiting for me. The time will pass. A year is a blink of an eye to a tree.”
Constance wondered if she should warn him that the year only referred to the Tower. After it, he’d spend another year in a different matingplace, and then another: twenty years, in total. If he survived that long. Yet how could she shatter his hopes?
“I’m lucky I wasn’t sent to matingplace before now,” Harper went on. “My forest is remote. But a shaper came, and noted down all the suitable men. And so here I am. Shaved, scented, stripped. Semi-stripped – they let me keep my leggings. At your service.”
“Don’t.” Impulsively, she caught him by the upper arms. Unexpectedly, she became aware of a pleasurable sensation: the curve of biceps. She dropped her hands, but not before he noticed her altered demeanour.
“Do you require me to mate with you now?”
“I don’t require anything of you. I’m not here to make demands.”
He began to say something, but thought better of it. Sighing, he pressed the heel of each palm against the blindfold.
“Does it bother you that I can see you when you can’t see me?”
“But I can see you.”
“Is the blindfold loose? Or transparent?”
“I see you in my mind’s eye.”
“What do you see?”
“I see a troubled woman. I see a lonely woman.”
“You see all that with your eyes covered?”
“I see all that with my heart.”
“What else do you see with your heart, Harper?”
“I see sunlight through branches, making patterns on the earth below. I see the leaves uncurl and spread out to take shape. I see the knots on the trunk of my favourite tree, where I lean my face for comfort.”
“Help me to see your forest.”
As before, they sat on the pop-up while he talked, and she listened. Once, she rested her palm against his chest, testing its warmth. Needing to touch him, although she didn’t understand why. Harper stopped speaking, and she could feel his muscles flex under her hand. When she took it away, he resumed his storytelling as if nothing had happened.
Later, she said, “Your body is smooth. I thought men were hairier than women.”
“I’ve never seen a woman’s body. Nor a woman’s face, either. Why do you wear your skin to a mating cube?”
“The Mating Mother says we mustn’t show our faces.”
“But I’m wearing a blindfold.”
“I know. It’s just
“We have limited resources to reclaim people who go astray. Women must take precedence.”
Below the blindfold, a nerve twitched on Harper’s cheek. “Even women are punished in Sisterland. They’re sent to Black Particle – to Safe Space.”
Safe Space. The name caused Constance’s heartbeat to skip.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me Safe Space is just a scare-story?” he challenged.
By the nightlight’s glow, Constance began to run her hands over the walls of the mating cube, trying to find an eavesdropping device. Over and over, she’d been told the cube was private. But would Sisterland really honour that principle?
When she was through, she whispered, “What do you know about Safe Space?”
“I heard about it here in the compound. It’s how the Nine deals with opposition.”
“I’ve never heard of any opposition. But I suppose . . .”
“They’d hush it up,” he finished her sentence for her.
“There’s nothing beyond Black Particle. It’s where everything ends. That’s why Safe Space is there. But we shouldn’t talk about it. Nobody’s meant to know it exists. We could get in trouble just for speaking its name.”
“I’m going to stay out of trouble.” There was a catch in his voice. “They’ll let me go home once I’ve given them what they want. A year, I’ve been told. A year is manageable. I just have to put in the time. Inside my head, I stored an image of the last sunset I saw in my forest. I take it out and look at it when I need to – a ball of colour, bursting through the treetops. It helps to think about my forest waiting for me. The time will pass. A year is a blink of an eye to a tree.”
Constance wondered if she should warn him that the year only referred to the Tower. After it, he’d spend another year in a different matingplace, and then another: twenty years, in total. If he survived that long. Yet how could she shatter his hopes?
“I’m lucky I wasn’t sent to matingplace before now,” Harper went on. “My forest is remote. But a shaper came, and noted down all the suitable men. And so here I am. Shaved, scented, stripped. Semi-stripped – they let me keep my leggings. At your service.”
“Don’t.” Impulsively, she caught him by the upper arms. Unexpectedly, she became aware of a pleasurable sensation: the curve of biceps. She dropped her hands, but not before he noticed her altered demeanour.
“Do you require me to mate with you now?”
“I don’t require anything of you. I’m not here to make demands.”
He began to say something, but thought better of it. Sighing, he pressed the heel of each palm against the blindfold.
“Does it bother you that I can see you when you can’t see me?”
“But I can see you.”
“Is the blindfold loose? Or transparent?”
“I see you in my mind’s eye.”
“What do you see?”
“I see a troubled woman. I see a lonely woman.”
“You see all that with your eyes covered?”
“I see all that with my heart.”
“What else do you see with your heart, Harper?”
“I see sunlight through branches, making patterns on the earth below. I see the leaves uncurl and spread out to take shape. I see the knots on the trunk of my favourite tree, where I lean my face for comfort.”
“Help me to see your forest.”
As before, they sat on the pop-up while he talked, and she listened. Once, she rested her palm against his chest, testing its warmth. Needing to touch him, although she didn’t understand why. Harper stopped speaking, and she could feel his muscles flex under her hand. When she took it away, he resumed his storytelling as if nothing had happened.
Later, she said, “Your body is smooth. I thought men were hairier than women.”
“I’ve never seen a woman’s body. Nor a woman’s face, either. Why do you wear your skin to a mating cube?”
“The Mating Mother says we mustn’t show our faces.”
“But I’m wearing a blindfold.”
“I know. It’s just
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