Sheri Tepper - Grass

“I’ll take these two to the order station,” said Rillibee, tugging on the rope that bound the captives. He pointed up the hill. “That’s the hospital. Where Stella and your husband are, next to the Port Hotel.” Marjorie urged Don Quixote up the slope, covering half of it before she realized that she was actually going to a place where Rigo was. Rigo. She said the word to herself. Nothing resonated. He was someone she knew, that was all. Normally the thought of him brought feelings: guilt and anxiety and frustration. Now she felt only curiosity, perhaps a slight sorrow, wondering how it would feel to see him after all that had happened.

The Port Hotel was packed with people, anonymous groups going here and there, anonymous faces turning to stare curiously at Marjorie and the others. Someone shouted. Someone else pointed. Then Sebastian Mechanic separated himself from the mass and came running toward them.

“Lady Marjorie,” he cried. “Your son’s here, and your daughter and husband.”

She dismounted stiffly, wiping at her muddy face. “Rillibee told me,” she said. “I need to see them. I need somewhere to wash.” Then Persun Pollut was beside her, leading her in one direction while Sebastian and Asmir led the horses in another.

“Lady Westriding, I’m glad you’re here.” His heart lay in his eyes, but she did not see it there. “They’ll take the horses to the barn. How can i help you?”

“Do you known where Rigo is?”

“In there.” He pointed through a door to a crowd of people, seemingly all talking at once. “The doctor let him get up a few hours ago.

They’re talking about the plague and whether the Hippae are going to get in and eat us all!”

“The plague!” She could see Rigo’s lean form at the center of the mob. He sat in a chair, pale and haggard, but he seemed to be functioning. Still, to be talking about the plague!

“Everyone knows, ma’am. Your husband is there, trying to bring some order out of it all…”

“I’ll join them,” Brother Mainoa said from behind them. “I have to tell them about that tunnel… something has to be done about it.”

“And Stella?” Marjorie asked Persun.

“Through there,” Persun pointed toward a hallway.

“I’ll go with you,” said Rillibee, as Brother Mainoa, leaning heavily on Father James’s arm, went in to join the crowd.

Persun guided Marjorie and Rillibee along the building, into it through a small side door and down a corridor to a corner room which was almost filled by a humming box, a Heal-all.

“In there,” Persun said.

She peered down through the transparent lid to see Stella lying below, slender wires and tubes connecting her to the box.

“Are you her mother?” The doctor had come in behind them.

Marjorie turned. “Yes. Is she? I mean, what do you…”

The doctor gestured toward a chair. “I’m Doctor Lees Bergrem. I’m not entirely sure yet what the prognosis is. She’s been here only a little more than a day. There was no… well, no lasting physical damage.”

“They had done something to her… to her body?”

“Something. Something in the pleasure centers of the brain and nervous system, in the sexual connections to it. I’m not yet sure exactly what was done. Something perverse. Sexual pleasure seems to result from obeying commands. I think I can fix that part.”

Marjorie didn’t say anything. She waited.

“She may not remember everything. She may not be just the way she was. She may be more as she was as a child…” The doctor shook her head. “You know about Janetta bon Maukerden? Had you heard that another one has been found? Diamante bon Damfels. It’s as though they were wiped clean, except for that one circuit.” She shook her head again. “Your daughter is more fortunate. She hadn’t been disconnected yet. Even if she loses something, she’ll have time to rebuild, relearn.”

Marjorie didn’t reply. What was there to say? She felt Rillibee’s hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be all right.” he said. “I have a feeling.”

She wondered if she should cry. What she felt was anger. Anger at Rigo. Anger even at Stella herself. Rigo and Stella had done this with their foolishness. And the bons had done this. Forget the Hippae, malevolent though they were. It was human foolishness that had laid Stella in that box.

Mercy, a voice in her mind said softly. Justice. I wouldn’t waste my time on guilt.

The doctor interrupted her thoughts. “You don’t look at all well yourself. There’s a knot on your head as big as an egg. Look here.” And she began shining lights in Marjorie’s eyes and hooking her up to machines. “Concussion,” she said. “Let’s set you right while you’re here, before you try to do something about this mess and collapse. I’ll send someone in to clean you up, as well. Do you have a change of clothes?”

Attendants came and went. There were basins of water and soft towels. Someone loaned her a shirt. Then Marjorie sat beside Stella’s box, hooked-through tubes and wires to a box of her own. Gradually the vision she had had in the swamp-forest began to fade. She remembered it, but it lacked the clarity of immediate seeing. The words faded. What God had said to her faded. The doctor came back and sat beside her, talking quietly of her medical education on Semling, of her further education on Repentance, of the young people from Commons who had been recently trained as scientists and were working now on a puzzle Lees Bergrem herself was interested in. “I know,” said Marjorie. “I ordered your books.”

The doctor flushed. “They really weren’t written for the layman.”

“I could tell. But I understood parts of some of them, anyhow.”

The doctor asked about the swamp-forest, the foxen, and Marjorie answered, omitting her vision but telling about the assailants, telling more than she knew…

“Oh, I would have forgiven them before,” she admitted. “Oh, yes. I’d have let them go. I’d have been afraid not to. For fear society or God would have judged me harshly. I’d have said pain in this life isn’t that important. A few more murders. A few more rapes. In heaven they won’t matter. That’s what we’ve always said, isn’t it, doctor. But God didn’t say anything about that. He just said we should get on with our work…”

The doctor gave her a strange look and peered into her eyes. Marjorie nodded. “They’re always telling us what God has said in books. All my life I’ve had God’s word in my pocket, and here He wrote it all somewhere else…”

“Shhh,” said Dr. Bergrem, patting her on the arm. Marjorie relaxed and let it go. After a time the doctor went away, and there was nothing to listen to but her own breathing and the machines’ humming. She thought of Dr. Bergrem’s book. She thought about intelligence. She thought about Stella. Faintly she remembered the face of God, and almost as though she had read it in a fairy tale long ago, how Father Sandoval looked with dragonfly wings.

In the crowded room where Rigo sat, Brother Mainoa was being wearily firm, drawing on the last of his strength to insist upon action. “The tunnel has to be closed,” he said. “At once. It’s available as a way for the Hippae to invade Commons. We heard them behind us when we came in, no great numbers because the tunnel is too small for them to come through except one at a time, but still a few of them are enough to do great damage.”

“Some of them came in behind you,” said Alverd Bee, the mayor. “The minute you arrived and told us there was a way through, I sent two men to keep watch, and they report a handful of the beasts at the tunnel entrance.”

“A dozen now could be a hundred by nightfall,” Rigo said. “Brother Mainoa is right. That tunnel has to be destroyed.”