Eleanor Arnason - A Woman of the Iron People

“Hu! You are strange!”

“That might be.”

I asked them their names. They told me. They asked me when I was leaving. I said I didn’t know.

“Tell us before you go,” said one. “We want to go down to the river and see your boats that move on their own.”

Another one—a little one—said, “Like fishes! Like lizards!”

“All right.”

I walked back through the village. The children accompanied me. They were silent most of the time. Now and then one would speak.

“That is my mother’s tent.”

“I shot a bird with my new bow.”

“What is it like to have no hair?”

“Cool,” I said. “I am able to feel the wind.”

“But in the winter, you must be cold.”

I made the gesture of agreement.

“I’d rather have fur.”

We reached the far side of the village, and the children gestured farewell.

Agopian was on my boat, sitting on the deck. Derek and Eddie and Ivanova sat with him.

I climbed onboard.

“We were waiting for you,” Derek said.

Agopian said, “It’s done.”

“I am not happy with Mesrop’s precautions,” Ivanova said. “He’s acting as if I am some kind of criminal.”

Agopian looked up. “Elizaveta, we have broken laws.”

“For good reasons.”

“That is something I’m having trouble understanding,” I said. “What were the reasons? And where is the beer?”

“The usual place,” said Derek. “Get one for me and Agopian.”

When I came back out Ivanova said, “You will understand when you hear the messages. Socialism does not mean a reduction of everything to the lowest common denominator. It means giving people the freedom to achieve their full potential. It means a lifting of humanity. An ennobling.” She paused. “How long did it take us? Four centuries? Two hundred years of struggle to end that horrible system and two hundred years of hard work to clean up the mess that it left behind. How many people died of hunger or were poisoned by all the different kinds of pollution? Have you ever looked at the statistics on starvation and disease?

“How many people were murdered because they wanted a union or a free election? Or something very simple. The right to decide whom they were going to love. The right to decide how many children they were going to bear.

“All that suffering—those generations of struggle.” She had been looking down. Now she lifted her head. There were lines in her face that I didn’t remember.

“We thought we had won. When we left Earth, when we began this journey, it seemed that humanity was about to achieve a golden age. A true socialist society.

“We woke at the edge of this system and found—I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Garbage,” said Agopian. “It’s as if the lowest and worst human thinking had become predominant. It really is awful, Lixia.”

“You rewrote the messages because you didn’t like them,” I said. “History hadn’t turned out the way you wanted it to. So you tried to remake it. Undo it.”

“No,” said Ivanova.

Agopian said, “Maybe.”

Ivanova frowned at him, then looked at me. “What is going to happen next?”

“We’ll go back to camp, and you and Agopian will tell your story.”

She looked at Eddie. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

“No. But I can’t see any way to shut up Lixia and Derek and Agopian.”

“There isn’t any way,” I said. “I won’t go along with a lie of this magnitude.”

Agopian looked at me. He seemed a little drunk. “You are tougher than I am, Lixia, and more in love with abstractions. Truth. Beauty. Integrity. You’ll destroy us all for those words.”

“You are in no position to criticize,” Ivanova said.

I looked at Eddie. “When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow. Early. You and Derek ought to go up to the village and say good-bye formally.”

Derek made the gesture of disagreement. “Angai said no more men. I think she’s serious.”

“The oracle is up there.”

“He’s holy. I’m not. I’m taking Angai at her word.”

“I’ll go up,” I said. “After lunch and after a swim. Does anyone want to come with me?”

“Swimming?” asked Derek.

“To the village.”

“I will,” said Ivanova. “If Eddie thinks it’s all right.”

“I think we’ll put off arresting anyone until we’re back in camp. I don’t know the procedure, and I don’t really want to call and ask. It’d lead to a lot of questions.” Eddie looked around. “Do the rest of you agree?”

Derek and I nodded.

Ivanova said, “I think I’ll refrain from voting on this question.”

Agopian nodded. “I’m abstaining, too.”

“You might as well go,” Eddie said to Ivanova.

“Thank you.”

Derek and I made sandwiches. We ate, and I went for a swim. The water was cool. The river washed away a lot of my tension. I felt like floating down it, away from the village and the boats, away from all these people and their arguments. Of course, if I went far enough, I’d float into the middle of the lizard migration. I swam back and climbed onboard, grabbed a towel and tucked it around me.

Tatiana was back, sitting on the rear deck with Ivanova and Agopian. There was a bowl of fruit on the folding table next to her. Oranges, bananas, and bright green apples. A heap of orange peelings lay next to the bowl. The air was full of the aroma of orange.

Tatiana spoke in Russian, quickly and eagerly.

“What happened to the oracle?” I asked.

She glanced at me. “He stayed in the village. He was with someone. A large person with reddish fur in plain clothes.”

Nia.

I went into the cabin and got dressed.

When I came out, Ivanova stood up. We climbed the bluff together.

There were children outside the village. They were standing facing the wind, holding their hands out, the palms forward.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You told us you could feel the wind. Our palms have no hair. We are feeling the wind and trying to understand what it would be like to feel that way all over.”

I translated for Ivanova. She laughed. “They will have no trouble. It is the adults who’ll be afraid and fight change.”

The children stayed at the edge of the village, playing their game of pretending to be hairless. Ivanova and I walked to the main square. Angai was there, sitting under her awning. Nia and the oracle were with her.

I made the gesture of greeting.

Angai made the gesture that meant “sit down and stay awhile.”

We seated ourselves in the shadow of the awning. The wind blew dust around the square.

“We are leaving in the morning,” I said.

“Good,” said Angai. “When you are gone, people will stop worrying. After a while this visit will seem like a dream to them or like a story told by an old woman about something that happened a long time ago. Then you will be able to return. They will be less frightened the second time. But remember—when you come, bring only women and make sure they are clever and sensible.”

I translated for Ivanova.

She said, “Give Angai our thanks. Tell her, we will do as she asks. Tell her, when we come again we will bring many gifts and stories and no men.”

I told Angai.

She made the gesture of acknowledgment. “I think this will turn out well, though I should not have gotten angry last night. Now I will have to find a way to make Anhar happy.

“Go now and take the oracle. I will ask the spirits to take care of you.”

I made the gesture of gratitude. “That’s it,” I said to Ivanova. “She wants us out of the village.”

We stood. So did the oracle. He had a big lumpy leather bag: his food.

I looked at Nia. “What about you?”