Geoff Ryman - Air (or Have Not Have)

Love and ideas, how she loved her life now!

Visions of her screens danced in her head. She saw Kwan and Shen Suloi twirl in their embroideries; she heard the words: Native Eloi beauties model the traditional wear of their people.

This is the traditional wedding pattern. The yellow signs promise fidelity, the blue, understanding of foibles.

Mae's head seemed to swim, as if the air itself were a river, with currents. She felt herself picked up as if flying only a few inches above the road, and suddenly she saw her screens, very clearly indeed.

Mae saw her screens in fact. She was looking at the TV in a room at Kwan's house, not far into the future. Sunlight came through the window; her new screens glowed. In a video, Wing Kwan turned, modeling an Eloi collar.

This future would happen.

Why, then, sitting in that room in the future, did Mae feel sick in her stomach with loss? Why was she living with the Wings?

Mae shivered, and it was gone, this future full of promise and loss.

She went into her courtyard.

There were two men outside her doorway. A flashlight shone in her face. 'There she is,' said a voice.

'Who is it?' Mae asked, blinking. She saw movement, and she knew who it was from the way both bodies moved.

Joe was back. Shen stood with him.

'What is all this?' Joe demanded. 'What is all this about a man?'

The world stopped, like a truck.

'What is what?' babbled Mae, looking back and forth between the two men. What do I do, what do I say, do I deny it, do I act like I have no idea?

Shen, the serpent, looked at her with eyes that seemed green. He seemed to be made of stained green copper like the statues in town of forgotten generals. She hated him; she knew why he had done it. Shen had decided to destroy her.

'You know, woman,' said Joe, and strode forward and hit Mae in the face.

The flesh of her cheek was like a pond into which a rock is hurled. It rose and rippled and washed about her eyes. Mae felt her nose give, just to the point of breaking.

Mae allowed herself to be knocked backwards. She landed and lay still to buy time for thinking.

'Joe, Joe,' she heard Shen say, gently restraining.

'Wake up, woman!' Joe demanded. He was leaning over her, she could feel his breath. 'You cannot pretend with me!' His voice broke. He shook her. Mae kept her head limp.

'That… uh… That was premature, said Shen. 'She can answer nothing now.'

'She is pretending. I know the vixen,' said Joe.

'Look at that bruise,' said Shen.

Mae's mind raced. Shen had seen only shoes and a shadow through the curtains in her room. Can I undermine his story? He is a feeble man; he will hate it that I have been hit. Can I make him retract through guilt?

And Joe? Joe is weak as well, but he will be full of pain. I bet he's come back with no money.

Mae groaned. She let the broken flesh and its black swelling speak for her. She moaned and started to cry and held her cheek. She sat up, on the cobbles of the yard, streaked with mud, and wept. The two men stood over her, one now constraining the other.

Joe was shouting. 'Well might you weep! Well might you weep!'

She was weeping for the happiness, the happiness that had been hers just a minute before. Mae wept for her marriage, her love of Mr Ken, her business. In the end, Mae wept for death. Many things would now die, little baby possibilities that she had been nursing. It was life. Dog eat dog.

'Joe, she's not up to answering much,' said Shen. He turned and tried to help her up. 'Come on, Mae. This has to be gone through.'

How was she going to play it? She could lie, try to disguise it, play the wounded and confused wife, but there was one problem. Shen had truth on his side and knew it. She saw that in his eyes. Fashion expert that she was, her powers of dissimulation were not up to it. She did not have the heart for it. She felt a gathering presence in her breast, a tension. She had decided to draw power by telling the truth.

She did not take Shen's hand. So, Shen, so you expected my poor farmer of a husband to react like a schoolteacher, did you? Ruin lives, but avoid making a mess. Is that what you thought you could do?

Mae rolled over and sat on the cobbles, near the ground, as if the ground could nurture her. She looked at Shen only. 'What you are doing is very evil,' she told him.

Shen warned her: 'I am not the one who has done harm here.'

'You are doing this because you want to stop the machine.' Mae said it wearily. 'You do not care about Joe. You will destroy him, destroy me.'

So be it.

'It is true, Joe,' she said, turning.

A throb of silence. 'Whore,' whispered Joe.

'Whores do it for money. I did it for love.' She still sat on the ground.

'You are not ashamed?' Joe was failing.

'A bit. Ashamed to be caught. I am the only woman in the village who has been caught.' She nursed her jaw. She would be a sight.

The two men rocked slightly.

She held forth while she still had the chance. 'What do you do when you are away, Joe? Eh? When you are drunk and looking like a comedian. You go with women.'

He looked comic now, hair askew, eyes bugged with both shock and sadness. He would not easily forgive being made to look so foolish. 'No,' he said in a wan voice. 'I… do… not.' His voice became fierce on the last line.

Oh, Joe. It was probably true. You probably did not. More fool, you.

'Who was it?' Joe demanded.

Shen said, 'That does not matter,' restraining Joe again.

Mae spoke. 'Oh no, you don't want the man to get into trouble, do you, Shen? You feel for the man. And more mess would weigh on your conscience.'

'Who is he?' demanded Joe; her foolish Joe going dark, fists clenched.

Shen sighed. 'Does it make a difference?' Which was exactly what Mae was going to say.

'I was so happy.' Joe was weeping. He pushed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets. 'I had looked all over for work, it took weeks, finally I found it, and there was this stupid thing and I had to go home. All I wanted to do was go home!'

'I was happy, too,' whispered Mae.

'Oh, yes,' said Joe, snatching away his hands. 'You were skipping. Back from your cock, you whore!'

The listening lights of the village were on. They reflected on the walls, on the clouds.

Mae's eyes were on the Teacher. 'Who do you think you have made more unhappy, Shen? Me or him?'

Shen did not answer.

'It was me,' said a male voice.

And that was Ken Kuei.

Oh, fine. Oh, good. You come in to take your share, to take your part of the blame. To protect me. Just when it all was quieting down, when Joe and I might have talked.

Why is goodness so stupid?

There he was, her handsome stupid man against her comic sad one, ranged in orange light, like fire, to burn. Joe's face said, in horror (Mae could see his thoughts): My neighbour, Ken Kuei?

Mae could see Joe think: We will meet each other every day.

Shen had covered his mouth in shock. Of course he would not have known who it was.

Mae said, 'Feeling proud, Shen?'

'I am sorry, Joe,' said Kuei. 'I have always loved your wife.'

Oh, even better.

'How long!' yelped Joe. He looked in horror between them. 'How long have you two done this?'

'Not long,' said Mae, shaking her head, in a quiet voice.

'Is Lung my son?' squealed Joe.

Oh, best yet! – better than anything she could have dreamed. The one thing right in Joe's life was his boy.

'Of course,' she said, but she could not speak loudly. She had begun to tremble, deeply, inside. She felt like being sick again. 'Lung is your son,' she tried to say again.

'You pig,' wailed Joe, and launched himself at Mr Ken.