SUGAR AND SPICE AND ALL THINGS NICE
Part 2 of 8
There were one hundred and twenty lyriks in the Helioshad State Labor Facility, twenty girls in each lyrik. Two assistants slept in each lyrik. The teachers had lovely white flats next to Green Four, where jasmine grew. White stone paths, busy laboratories, medical and research buildings, the many-lobed Incubatory, and Administration. There were trees, gardens, a small working farm, and practice light industrial units.
Andromache, silent, walked with the mentist, birds singing and weaving nests in the trees. The mentist kept an eye on Andromache, but the girl’s expression was placid, posture erect, and step heel-and-toe—fluid and graceful as any of her peers.
Tall and growing quickly, she already had four centimeters since her tenth year. Miss Yilmaz used to walk her to testing holding her hand. Andromache never objected nor resisted—it would be impossible—but now her dignity made Yilmaz unwilling to touch her.
Squads of six-years planted baskets of bulbs, Second Gardener and his assistants overseeing. They unfolded from the garden bed, curtseying to the mentist and kneeling again with their trowels. Leaning on a hoe, Second Gardener tipped his conical felt cap. Some of the six-years knew her ten-year charge. Faint voices piped, “Sister Andromache, sister Andromache!”
Andromache did not turn her head.
Miss Yilmaz hummed to break the campus quiet. She’d never gotten used to scores of little girls crossing the campus in straight lines and pastel tunics, peaceful as lilies in a flowerbed. Sitting in class, working on math or turning pages in clockwork unison.
She almost wished they’d run and shout like citizens, pushing each other in line like she had in school.
“Your progress is pleasing.” She broke first, as always.
“Thank you, Miss.”
“Teacher and I have spoken about you having a turn as First Girl.”
“Briseis is First Girl, Miss.”
“Would you like to try at the rotation?”
“If Miss thinks it proper for me.”
Miss Yilmaz tried to catch her eye, but failed.
“Teacher and I will talk about it.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
She’d have said the same if I offered to shave her hair off, the mentist reflected. Her conditioning’s sound.
That buoyed her spirits. The geneset tweaks and new psychs were…experimental, but if they had proved unsuccessful…the girl was normal. No one needed to know.
She lengthened her stride, thinking about beaches. The girl almost trotted keeping pace.
A chair propped lyrik nineteen’s door, and the windows, cranked open, let in spring air. The class sewed. White-orange sun filled a room smelling of fresh pine cleanser, and the electrics, unneeded, were off. Gilded dust motes drifted, and Teacher paused at one or another student to point out stitches to correct or work she liked. The girls pulled the bad and redid it or smiled and continued.
She met the mentist. “Get to work, Andromache.—A good session?”
“As usual. I’ll take Cephisso for hers tomorrow.…What about Andromache as First Girl next quarter?”
The teacher raised an eyebrow. Andromache unrolled her mat, placed her basket. Threaded a needle.
“You’ve asked…”
“I have.”
“I’d…consider it.” Reluctant.
“She’d do well.”
“Well…leadership among them is…consensus. Once decided, no questions. Andromache…er…takes charge. Resists, sometimes.”
“I know.”
“She and Briseis disagreed about the juice cart the other day. It got tense.”
The mentist took tablet and stylus from her girdle. “Disagreed?”
“I should’ve mentioned it. Briseis chose Rhamesa to get the juice. Andromache said she preferred to get it.”
“And?”
She sighed. “Andromache stood close to Briseis and…insisted she be allowed. Insisted.” She shook her head at the silver-haired girl. “And I could’ve sworn…I could have sworn she used a…persuasive voice.”
Yilmaz licked her lips and put her tablet away. “You misheard.”
“I’m sure I didn’t.”
“It’s impossible for them.”
“Perhaps she mimicked me. I said nothing—how could I express that to her?—but I was concerned.”
“She shouldn’t mimic, either. I’ll adjust some of her conditioners. Not enough paravolicol, perhaps. It’s excessive protoagression. I’ll talk to the pharmacist.” She tapped her lip. “Allowing her to be First Girl next rotation would help. She’ll learn responsible leadership.” She tried to conceal eagerness.
“I’ll consider. I’d thought of Hypatia. Change Andromache’s conditioners, and I’ll consider.”
The mentist smiled. “It would benefit her. It would be a pity to stunt her development.”