Terra Nova: An Anthology of Contemporary Spanish Science Fiction (10 page)

Alone, exhausted, unable
to continue using the language of tears, lost in the most absolute
silence, she swore by the existence that was developing inside her
that she would not only do everything possible so that her mother’s
legacy would never be forgotten, but she would make sure that those
responsible would repent for having deprived Ksatrya women of their
best queen.

The spilling was successful, and Charni
waited patiently for the man to draw apart and sigh in satisfaction
one last time. She remained still for a while and then, silently,
rose from the cot and went to the chair where she had left her
dress and belt. She opened the container for her blood cloth and
cleaned between her legs.

She was about to dress herself to leave when
the man interrupted.

“
Wait. Don’t go yet.
There’s still time. Come on, come here. Lie down with me a
while.”

Although her turn had not quite ended,
Charni would have preferred to go home. By now her daughter was
home from school and although she would not be alone (without royal
privileges, Charni shared a home with other women, which had its
good side for raising a girl), she liked to spend as much time with
her as possible.

But the man had ordered it, and she could
not permit herself the luxury of hurting his pride. So, still
silent, she lay down next to him again.

“
Yes, that’s better,” he
sighed while he embraced her from behind and coupled with her like
a spoon. “Tell me, what’s your name?”

“
Charni.”

“
Charni … pretty name. I’m
Khal, by the way.” He snorted, tired, while he finished coupling
with her. “To tell the truth, I’ve had a horrible day. Do you know
why?”

Charni bit her lip. She
immediately remembered her mother’s words.

Was this the first time that she had been
with this man? She sniffed him, making sure he did not notice. No.
In fact, she was sure she had recognized him when he entered. But
was this the second or third time? Had she felt pleasure in the
spilling? As far as she could recall the last time, yes, although
right away she had thought about her daughter and that she had only
produced two men. She was now an adult, but her production was
still insufficient to begin to pull strings and reach her final
goal.

“
No,” was all she
answered. She needed to avoid saying ‘why’ by any means she
could.

“
No. Of course not. How
would you know? Down here you live quiet, worry-free lives.
Everything’s done for you, so you have all the time you need for
yourselves … or whatever you do to have fun and pass the time. I
can’t say I’d like a life like that, though. No, no, not at all.
I’d probably want to shoot myself after two days. Although at times
I wonder what life would be like from the perspective of such a
simple mind as yours. And that’s what today I had …”

Why did I have to get a
chatterbox for my turn?
Charni thought
with resignation and paid no attention at all to what the man said.
She had more important things to think about. And while he droned
on, she recalled her mother’s goodbye. Brief but full of feeling in
every caress, every written word.

“
I hope you have a good
production, my child,” she began. “And although I ought to tell you
I hope you’re carrying a man inside you, I’d rather it’s a woman.
Otherwise people would say you’re following in your mother’s
footsteps and this would make Lain and Latha consider you a rival
more than ever. Patience. Remember that, Charni. Don’t hurry to
carry out the plan that you’re hatching in your little mind. You’re
my daughter, so you can’t fool me. But please, make sure that
they’ve lowered their guard before you act. I feel very calm about
leaving you alone because although you’re not yet an adult, you can
do anything. I know it. Oh, yes, I know it. I trust you fully, my
daughter.”

Her mother’s wishes had
been fulfilled. Her first production had been a girl, and although
Charni had almost died during the final phase of the process, her
will to live and carry out her vengeance had been so strong and so
determined that even her own assistants had been surprised by her
recovery.

Yes. Charni would be as patient and as
cautious as she had to be, and when the right time came …

“
So what do you
think?”

The question, along with
the fact that the man had just planted two kisses …
affectionate
kisses on
her shoulder and neck, set off all her alarms.

The three questions. The answer to two were
no. And it was better to stop things before they happened.

“
I’m sorry. My turn is
over,” she answered in the most neutral tone she could transmit
both with sounds and with the language of her body.

She rose from the cot, went to the chair in
silence and began to dress herself.

“
What’s wrong? Why are you
acting like that?”

Like that? How?
Charni felt sure she had been as bland as
possible. Still, she said nothing and began to adjust her belt and
the various containers.

“
Hey,” the man exclaimed
as he got up from the cot. “I asked you a question, woman,” he
said, grabbing her arm and pulling it hard enough to bring her face
to face.

Curse it. She didn’t know
how, but he was texturizing that his pride had been awoken. Her
duty as a Ksatrya woman was to calm him down any way she had to, to
lower her head, to show her regret, to take the blame … to do
everything necessary to keep the balance. And yet …

And yet, Charni realized that she was
willing to assume the consequences of wounding his pride if it
meant that she could avoid another turn with him.

“
My answer is that you
stop crying like a girl of two cycles,” she spat out while she
managed to jerk her arm from his grasp. “Your life as a man is
hard? Well, get over it. You came to this world to put up with that
and a lot more. You have a duty, Ksatrya. Fulfill it or shoot
yourself. If you’re not man enough to do one or the other, don’t
make me waste my valuable time with a weakling like
you.”

He grabbed her arm again, this time with
murderous rage. Charni perceived that his other hand was held in
the air to hit her. Ah, the pride, the pride. But she did not move
a muscle as she waited for the man to hit her and ease his pride.
And yet, to her surprise, nothing happened, and the silence that
followed became uncomfortable.

Slowly, very slowly, almost like a caress,
he let her go.

“
You’re right,” he said
with an almost … cheerful sarcasm. “I won’t make you waste your
time. Until we see each other again, Charni.”

“
I don’t think that will
be possible, Khal.” She said his name with some
contempt.

Suddenly, he hugged and kissed her with
fury. Charni bit his lip and pushed him as best she could to make
him let go. What cursed thing was happening with that man that made
him seem to want her to trample on his pride? Dangerous. Beyond all
doubt, a dangerous, unbalanced man.

She left the hall in silence, both confused
and angry. Men were such a bother. They only knew how to fight and
spill. Spill and fight. Their brain could hold no more. They were
more simple than a newborn.

She shook her head. No. She would not spend
another moment thinking about it. She had to talk with Deva and ask
about the state of the alliances she was arranging. She had to
visit Qjem, the only man with strategic value at that moment, to
begin to find out who he was thinking of as his successor.

Lain would be about to perceive how the
possibilities of her daughter Latha were being reduced to zero,
nothing, and with a little more time …

No distractions. No. Not one.

She could not permit any distraction. Charni
was going to be queen. In memory of her mother, no one and nothing
would stop her from reaching her destiny, least of all a man.
Although she had denied it for so long, although she had rejected
it with all her strength while she was at school, Charni was now
fully convinced that she had been produced in this world to govern
all the women, just as her mother had done before her.

Exactly as the late queen had planned
it.

Original Title: La textura de
las palabras

Translated by: Sue Burke

Lola Robles hold a degree
in Spanish literature and is a writer. She has published three
science fiction novels:
La rosa de las
nieblas [The Fog Rose],
published by Kira
in 1999;
El informe Monteverde [The
Monteverde Report]
published by Equipo
Sirius in 2005; and
Flores de Metal [Metal
Flowers],
published by Equipo Sirius in
2007. She has also published the collection
Stories of Amargarita Páez,
along
with short stories and articles. Since 2006 she has led
Fantástikas, a reading and discussion workshop with a feminist,
pacifist and queer perspective.

The story “Dierdre” is
more than six years old. It was selected for the anthology
Visiones 2006
, published
by the Spanish Association for Fantasy, Science Fiction and Horror,
an edition coordinated by Mariano Villarreal and meant to promote
new authors. In the end, however, her story could not be
included.

It is a deeply humane and moving story about
a young woman who finds it nearly impossible to relate to others
affectionately. A story that weaves love, pain, loneliness, passion
and redemption in a future where robotics have advanced far enough
to offer made-to-order lovers. A journey that recalls a tragic
heroine of Irish mythology also named Deirdre.

I decided she would be called Deirdre. It
was a name I had read in an old science fiction story.

“And finally, you need to choose a name for
her
,” I had been told by Myriam, the very sweet, and efficient
employee of the Kapek Corporation, Inc., who dealt with me
throughout the entire process. Myriam was very pretty, with long,
curly, nearly-black hair, and she was so pleasant when she asked me
what I wanted it for (the thing I later decided to call Deirdre)
that I was about to answer “for her to be just like you.” But I
didn’t, out of shame, my usual shyness, and because I thought that
to speak that way would affect her professional relationship with
me (I was aware from the beginning that any other sort of
relationship would only be imaginary, because she alluded, as soon
as we met, to her heterosexuality). And I had come there, to the
Kapek Corporation, precisely because I was fed up with imaginary
love.

It was the final choice, her name, Deirdre,
but not the most difficult one: the very first was harder, the
decision to go there. The Kapek Corporation was located in an
office on the seventeenth floor of a glass tower (with windows like
eyes) in the center of the city, and it billed itself a “company of
domestic robots,” a neutral expression so that clients could be
unnoticed, just as if they truly came there to acquire a robot for
household chores or a robo-chaufeur. In fact, the company only
advertised through the internet, not on television or in the media,
and through the word of mouth of satisfied clients, and that’s how
I had come to them, through a friend. Once you got in touch, they
gave you an appointment in the skyscraper where a secretary handed
you a pamphlet with detailed information about the company and what
it could offer you. If you were then convinced to proceed, the next
meeting took place in a more discreet location, a little chalet in
the outskirts of the city labeled with a simple sign bearing just
the initials KCDR (Kapek Corporation Domestic Robotica), and the
employee who opened the door for you and led you to an individual
waiting room assured you that you wouldn’t meet any other clients,
just the receptionist and the person in charge of your account, who
awaited you to conduct your first interview.

There was Myriam: radiant, charming, made-up
but not excessively, so beautiful, pleasant, and genteel.

“Please be seated,” she told me, immediately
suggesting using first names, and I accepted. “Before we begin, I’d
like to talk briefly about our company,” she continued. “As you
know, Emma, our company is a multinational with offices in
practically all the most important cities of the world. Our basic
principles are honesty and discretion. We’re honest because we
guarantee that we don’t manufacture robots or androids for either
war or prostitution. In fact we’ve signed the Reykjavik Protocol on
this. Yes we build robots for space navigation and manual workers
(but only for very onerous jobs, for our company doesn’t want to
contribute to the loss of positions for human workers), and
androids for domestic service and companionship. We are the best in
our specialty, don’t doubt it. Our androids are perfect, that’s why
they’re also the most expensive. But that question shouldn’t
concern you. We’ll take care of it on credit in the event that you
have any problem. And discretion: first, because given the top
quality of your servant or your companion android, it would be
indistinguishable from a true human; and second, because the
privacy of your data and the secrecy of your case are completely
guaranteed.”