nation.”
“And
have you never considered that being gassed might be too harsh a punishment for
being unable to produce one? Or perhaps that each woman should be allowed to
decide for herself whether or not she wants to be a mother at all?” Neptune’s
face was hard, her eyes glittering with something I’d never seen in her before.
I
couldn’t quite grasp what she was saying or why she was saying it. It was as
though she’d forgotten everything we’d been taught from when we were old enough
to understand: that all good citizens strive to do what’s best for the
collective, not for the individual. Had she learned nothing from the mistakes
of the men who came before us? “You can’t...be serious.” I managed the words
falteringly, unable to think of what else to say.
Neptune
reached forward and grasped my hand. “You could come with me one day, meet some
of the women I work with. There are other ideas out there, Moon. Other ways of
living. We don’t have to believe everything they’ve told us.”
I
pulled my hand out of hers, feeling sick and feverish. I didn’t know what had
come over my sister or why she was saying things that could get us both killed.
But before I could respond, we heard Mother’s key in the door, and Neptune
rushed to put out and hide her cigarette. We never did finish our discussion;
Neptune never mentioned it to me again. To be honest, I was quite thankful. The
thought of meeting other women who share Neptune’s wild ideas scared me.
Now,
at the table, the tension between Mother and Neptune is so thick I feel it
pressing down on my shoulders. Finally, Neptune smirks and looks away. She
doesn’t say anything, doesn’t defend herself against Mother’s insinuation.
She
pushes back her chair. “I need to use the washroom before I go. Excuse me.”
Mother’s
hard gaze follows her as she walks out.
When
my
sister has disappeared from view, Mother turns to me, her small brown eyes
fevered and bright. Her thin hand clamps down on mine with surprising force.
“She’s
a Radical. I feel it in my bones.” A glob of saliva flies from her mouth and
lands on my arm, warm and wet, and I cannot hide my shudder of revulsion. She
does not notice. “We must find out for sure so we can report her. For the good
of our country, Moon. For New Amana.”
I
know why Neptune doesn’t visit us very often. She is only here today because it
is my mother’s birthday, and I asked her to come. My mother’s fever, her hunger
to uncover Neptune’s supposed lies is like a thick cloud that makes breathing
difficult. It suffocates even me; I cannot imagine how it is for Neptune.
Many
years ago, Mother was denied entry into her choice of career with BoTA because they
said she lacked initiative and the required passion for her country’s future
success. So, instead, she was assigned to be a Maintenance custodian.
She
loathes her job, spending time looking after a group of brutish Maintenance
men. She’s told me before that she’d much rather be in a quiet office, typing
up reports on machines amongst other women. Mother says she lacked the
requisite number of reports of suspected Radicals that BoTA employees are
supposed to have under their belts before they are granted employment. I
imagine she is making up for lost time now, reporting all those she should’ve
reported when it would’ve made a difference. And the one person she is burning
to report most of all is her eldest daughter.
It
was as though something inside Mother, some last thread of patience, began to
wear thin when Neptune refused to even consider joining BoTA. With every
passing day that my sister goes to her factory job and my mother goes to her
joyless one, that thread wears thinner and thinner. It’s as if Mother thinks
Neptune intentionally disrespected her by choosing not to apply for the position
she’d wanted so badly all those years ago. Mother sees Neptune’s disobedience
as an attack on her. And she hungers to
“And
have you never considered that being gassed might be too harsh a punishment for
being unable to produce one? Or perhaps that each woman should be allowed to
decide for herself whether or not she wants to be a mother at all?” Neptune’s
face was hard, her eyes glittering with something I’d never seen in her before.
I
couldn’t quite grasp what she was saying or why she was saying it. It was as
though she’d forgotten everything we’d been taught from when we were old enough
to understand: that all good citizens strive to do what’s best for the
collective, not for the individual. Had she learned nothing from the mistakes
of the men who came before us? “You can’t...be serious.” I managed the words
falteringly, unable to think of what else to say.
Neptune
reached forward and grasped my hand. “You could come with me one day, meet some
of the women I work with. There are other ideas out there, Moon. Other ways of
living. We don’t have to believe everything they’ve told us.”
I
pulled my hand out of hers, feeling sick and feverish. I didn’t know what had
come over my sister or why she was saying things that could get us both killed.
But before I could respond, we heard Mother’s key in the door, and Neptune
rushed to put out and hide her cigarette. We never did finish our discussion;
Neptune never mentioned it to me again. To be honest, I was quite thankful. The
thought of meeting other women who share Neptune’s wild ideas scared me.
Now,
at the table, the tension between Mother and Neptune is so thick I feel it
pressing down on my shoulders. Finally, Neptune smirks and looks away. She
doesn’t say anything, doesn’t defend herself against Mother’s insinuation.
She
pushes back her chair. “I need to use the washroom before I go. Excuse me.”
Mother’s
hard gaze follows her as she walks out.
When
my
sister has disappeared from view, Mother turns to me, her small brown eyes
fevered and bright. Her thin hand clamps down on mine with surprising force.
“She’s
a Radical. I feel it in my bones.” A glob of saliva flies from her mouth and
lands on my arm, warm and wet, and I cannot hide my shudder of revulsion. She
does not notice. “We must find out for sure so we can report her. For the good
of our country, Moon. For New Amana.”
I
know why Neptune doesn’t visit us very often. She is only here today because it
is my mother’s birthday, and I asked her to come. My mother’s fever, her hunger
to uncover Neptune’s supposed lies is like a thick cloud that makes breathing
difficult. It suffocates even me; I cannot imagine how it is for Neptune.
Many
years ago, Mother was denied entry into her choice of career with BoTA because they
said she lacked initiative and the required passion for her country’s future
success. So, instead, she was assigned to be a Maintenance custodian.
She
loathes her job, spending time looking after a group of brutish Maintenance
men. She’s told me before that she’d much rather be in a quiet office, typing
up reports on machines amongst other women. Mother says she lacked the
requisite number of reports of suspected Radicals that BoTA employees are
supposed to have under their belts before they are granted employment. I
imagine she is making up for lost time now, reporting all those she should’ve
reported when it would’ve made a difference. And the one person she is burning
to report most of all is her eldest daughter.
It
was as though something inside Mother, some last thread of patience, began to
wear thin when Neptune refused to even consider joining BoTA. With every
passing day that my sister goes to her factory job and my mother goes to her
joyless one, that thread wears thinner and thinner. It’s as if Mother thinks
Neptune intentionally disrespected her by choosing not to apply for the position
she’d wanted so badly all those years ago. Mother sees Neptune’s disobedience
as an attack on her. And she hungers to
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