Geoff Ryman - Child Garden

I am in no pain. Everything swirls, everything dances, and still I cannot believe. I still cannot believe that this is happening, that I am dying.

‘They’re going to make you part of the Upper House,’ Mike told her quietly. ‘Do you know what that means?’

Milena knew what it meant and she did not want it so she shook her head. Mike thought she meant she had not understood.

‘It means they keep the pattern,’ he said. ‘The pattern they Read. They save it to consult it. It means even after you the, you are still part of the Consensus.’

‘It means,’ croaked Milena, and began to laugh, ‘they need me for something.’ The laugh was a shrivelling inwards from the chest, as if in a coughing fit. ‘I wonder what happens to the Lower House?’ It was rhetorical question — Milena knew the answer. Mike Stone shrugged, to indicate he had no idea. ‘They get wiped,’ Milena told him. ‘Wiped clean away.’

The rustle of the white dress, the buttocks. Milena smiled and shook her head. Here was Root.

‘Any experiences with the paranormal, Mr Stone?’ Root murmured the question, not wanting to disturb Milena.

Only my entire life, thought Milena. Only a performance on a cube that should not have been there from a woman who cannot die. Only a plate of lamb that should not have been there. Only London. Only an enemy who shivered and danced inside my eyes. Only Angels and Cherubim who talked to me through the wires, the wires of gravity.

‘Now it will just be a few seconds longer and we’ll be ready.’ said Root, folded into herself by sadness. But Root could not stay closed up for long, and suddenly her face blossomed out into its great grin. ‘How are you my love?’ Root asked, picking up Milena’s hand. ‘How are you my darling?’

The great grin was enough to make Milena smile back. ‘Not too well,’ she said.

‘You been here before so you know what happens next, don’t you?’ said Root.

‘Yes,’ lied Milena.

‘You’ll see everything, all at once, your whole life.’

Like drowning men do. ‘No time like the present,’ said Milena. There was no time left but the present.

‘I got things wrong didn’t I?’ said Root. There had been no cure.

‘Yup,’ said Milena. No denying it.

‘But you’ll live forever, here,’ said Root, and held up her hands, to indicate the Consensus, all about them.

I’ll never be free of the Consensus.

‘And here,’ said Root, and touched her own heart.

But not here, thought Milena, of the flesh in which she lay, on the brick floor. ‘I want to be free,’ whispered Milena.

Root looked at her out of love and pity. Such a hope could only lead to pain and disappointment. ‘Then maybe you will be,’ she said, falsely, and touched Milena’s hand. ‘I’ll be back.’ She stood up, and rustled away.

Mike pulled himself out of the sling-chair and crawled towards Milena on all fours.

Like the opera in the sky, Mike leaned over her.

‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ Mike said. ‘I caught a virus from you. A receptor turned transmitter. I caught you. Do you understand? I have you in my mind. Like you have Heather.’

How very strange. It’s as if I’m shedding myself all over the place, like leaves. ‘So that’s how you know about Heather,’ murmured Milena. ‘That’s how you knew about the tapestry.’ The weakness of her voice surprised her.

Mike nodded.

‘Heather’s not going to the!’ said Milena. She was relieved and happy: Heather won’t be destroyed with me! ‘Say hello to her for me.’ she said. ‘And tell Al, will you? Let him come and talk to her.’

‘I know about them,’ said Mike. ‘I know about Rolfa, too. I know everything now.’ He pointed to his temples. ‘So you don’t have to worry about me. If you are worried about me. Tuh.’ The shudder-chuckle. Mike Stone shook with Rolfa’s shudder-chuckle. ‘I won’t be alone. I’ll still have you to talk to. I’ll tell the child about you, all about you. And you’ll be able to talk to it. Through me.’ In all innocence, he was smiling. ‘It’s what I said when I first told you I wanted to have the baby. No harm can come, I said. And it’s true. You see? It’s true.’

On his hands and knees, he lowered himself and kissed her on the forehead. Milena managed to encircle his neck with one thin arm. ‘I love you,’ said Milena. It was the first time she had said it.

His smile did not change. It was still happy. The eyes did not soften or lose honesty. ‘Yes, I suppose you do. In your own way,’ he said.

The hot hard lump on Milena’s shoulder seemed to ripen. It burst.

‘Ow,’ said Milena, rather mildly, feeling it. There were ragged edges of flesh. The tips of her fingers came away wet, but not with blood. She looked at them. On the tips of her fingers there was clear sap.

‘Oh, Milena,’ said Mike Stone, and pulled something from her.

It was a rose, a human rose.

‘It’s a tumour,’ said Milena. ‘That means it’s immortal. Plant it and it will never the.’

There were other rupturings. Something seemed to fall into the sleeve of her smock. She shook it, and smeared with blood, a snapping turtle crawled out onto the floor. Milena was giving birth to memories.

Her stomach creaked like leather. It creaked and opened up. Something stirred, and Milena lifted up her smock.

There was something new.

It was smooth and pink and had a long extended nose and drooping ears. On Milena’s lap there was the spilled and broken doll of Piglet. As if stepping out of him, shedding old dead skin, there was a new Piglet. He was alive. He looked about him in fear and wonder. Mike Stone reached down and took his hand.

‘Hello, Piglet,’ he murmured kindly. Dazed, Piglet stepped down from Milena.

There was a rustle of skirts.

‘For the love of heaven,’ murmured Root. Piglet stared up at her and cocked his head in curiosity.

‘They’re all getting out while they can,’ said Milena.

Root was shaking her head again and again. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I don’t know.’ She turned and walked towards the Reading Room.

Is this happening now? wondered the Milena who remembered. Or is this a few moments ago? Has this already happened? I can’t remember. Am I the one who is living, or the one who is remembering?

‘It’s all right,’ said Mike, as other hands came to help. The litter was raised. Mike had to let go of Milena. He cradled up the snapping turtle and Piglet. Piglet carried the rose. All of them were carried in the sling chair. They went ahead of Milena, through the ultra-violet, light along the accordion corridor, into the Public Reading Room.

In the room there was a tall man in white, his face behind a clear plastic mask.

‘How much more virus?’ he asked, disapproving. ‘You all ought to be in whites.’

He was a Doctor. Doctors were the highest Estate of all. They supervised the Health Regime. They tended the Consensus.

‘And what the hell is that?’ the Doctor asked, pointing to Piglet.

‘New…’ said Mike Stone, and couldn’t speak. ‘New life,’ he said.

Vita Nuova, whispered a voice from elsewhere.

‘It’s been ultra-violeted,’ said Root to the Doctor. Her hand was on Mike’s shoulder. ‘Mike, love,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to come away now. Come away, or we get two readings mixed up together and that’s very weird.’

‘We’re already mixed,’ he said, his voice strained.

‘It’ll be all right, Mike,’ said Milena.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It will.’ He turned around and leaned over. She had never seen his face like that before. It was twisted, pulled in many directions at once. He looked at her face, looked over all of it. He’s looking at me to remember, she thought. He’s looking at it to remember me. Root’s dark, reassuring, reminding hand on his shoulder pulled gently backwards. He turned and crawled away.