Chapter 10: Alleliea and other worlds

"The world might stop in ten minutes; meanwhile, we are to go on doing our duty." - C. S. Lewis

Later that day Zash came up to Zere’maya. She was tapping away at a large boulder, not drumming her fingers but some other kind of motion. Zash had seen Zere’maya do data entry before, but this time there was an earnestness and dedication to what she was doing – she looked driven. Like any cat who has seen her owner reading a newspaper, Zash’s first and gut response was to stop this behavior at once.

Zash bent over. “What are you doing?”, she asked facetiously.

Zere’maya jumped. “Glad you’re here, I’m just ready to edit this thing.” She gestured to the small screen.

“Why don’t you just talk? I know your wand understands you when you speak.” Asked Zash, trying to delay her – if possible.

“I’ve told you, most people aren’t human. The first person I’m sending this to communicates by changing the color and texture on his/her/their/it’s skin, sometimes shaking little sections, like horses can. Entering the information symbolically – it’s like Chinese characters. They will read this in their language, the scant humans will read this in their languages.” Zere’maya racked her knuckles and smiled at Zash. They both understood that Zash was stalling. Zere’maya accepted this. It was as much a survival skill for Zere’maya as coming to terms with the sun rising and setting, and gravity pulling people down. Young people of every type, human or not – did this.

Zash looked up “I live in a universe that can’t hear – without songs, without the understanding of music.”

Zere’maya shook her head. “It’s not like that at all. Back at my home people who couldn’t hear sung – in gestures. The movements had their own music, as valid as any other. And if you could see my boss sing, you’d understand the skill, the delight, and you’d hum along, just as a hearing person can recognize sign language poetry when they see it – even without understanding the meaning.”

“Big universe.” Commented Zash.

“Bigger.”, affirmed Zere’maya. “Anyway, from your descriptions of the city we were just in I have a life cycle map. That’s a cookie cutter idea of what it means to be a human here – no one’s life, but everyone’s, without particular situations. Want to hear it?” asked Zere’maya. Zash nodded eagerly.

“I’m starting at age twelve. Makes more sense that way, I think. At age twelve a young girl goes out with her mother, who has an apprenticeship – in this case maintaining the great engines that supply fish for a smaller city. Your mother and her mentor have a lot of talking to do. You’re doing the scut work – making them snacks, running errands, cleaning up, entering data. It’s not a lot of fun and there aren’t many other children to be with. Your mother heard and complied with the folk wisdom “one daughter is one daughter. Two daughters is half a daughter. And three daughters is no daughter at all.”

Zash laughed. “That is true in the caravans as well as in the cities.”

“Sure. Anyway, if she doesn’t already have an older sister who is raising her baby, there are other young women that she knows of who have gone back home and are happy mothers, back with the grandmothers. As soon as your mother no longer needs an assistant you apply to your family, or to another family and get back to being pampered.

If you can you find a wealthier family than your own – but you find a family and apply and are accepted to your own house. You live with a bunch of granny women – great-grandmothers and older – who posset and pamper you through your pregnancy and as long as you can carry your baby easily you walk around with her. If you bear a son you get extra praise and support, extra cushy if you have a wealthy family so that your child’s father is right in the home, raising your baby with you. There aren’t enough men to go around, so usually you bear a daughter, and conceive that daughter at the temple. “ Zere’maya looked to Zash. Zash nodded.

“At her puberty you’re both antsy – you write around for an apprenticeship somewhere, and your daughter begs to be out of the house and free, too. You go to work at the baths – taking care of those engines, which are a lot like the aquaculture engines. You concentrate on the most interesting parts. Eventually your daughter grows up, about the same time that the woman you’re working for is ready to move on. You take her job, someone else becomes your apprentice. “ Zere’maya looked over. Zash nodded again.

“You’ve got the general point. Some women get a longing for another child at that point. Since most women have their first and only at sixteen or so, that would make this woman about 32 – still able to have another child if she wants to.” Said Zash. “Usually the poorer women try again, and again choose daughters. That’s when the wealthier women choose to have sons.”

“An heir and a spare.” Agreed Zere’maya. “Boys can’t have children. Obviously. Actually, the wealthier women tend to have these children at a natural gender ratio – I haven’t found any culture that tries for boys thoughtfully. Anyway, at this point the woman has been working along, and masters her craft. She’s getting stupid bored, and the hard physical labor is becoming more difficult every day. She’s got money saved up so she goes to college. That’s a group of women who pay a teacher, more like a salon. She usually goes for something that will enable her to plan out improvements on the guild skill she knows, becoming a master teacher. This too makes her money, everyone likes someone who has ideas that make life easier and nicer. At this point she’s the most likely to have a son – end of fertility baby. That accounts in part for the people here living so long – most of the sons are born from very old mothers. Add that to good health and low disease, and you’ve got long life with your body dying before your brain dies, which is the worthier way to do it.”

Zash nodded. “Yup, that’s what I’ve seen. And gypsies agree – best to have your body wear out and die with your faculties intact.”

“That traveling stage ends, too. They get to want to settle down, so they pool their money with other old women and found a new family, or bring their money back to the home that raised them. There’s babies to play with and food to make and lots of crafty things to do. There’s young women in the house for all of the hard physical labor, usually your own descendants. You then wear out doing homey things, people come more and more to your house, and eventually you don’t wake up any more – and you leave your inheritance to your house and your son or sons, if any.” Concluded Zere’maya. “That would be no one’s life, exactly, but basically the stages of a woman’s life. And women are the only people here, except for the outlying towns and scattered settlements. What I haven’t figured out is what happens to the boys during their lives, and where the dragons fit into all of this.”

“Boys if they can – and they try very hard – get the h*ll out of the cities and return only when old men. The old men live in the temples. Just like anywhere, most of the people who want to run away with the circus are boys. Girls – rarely. There really isn’t a point in their lives where they don’t have a role to play, people who need them. Every now and again we pick up a woman, and that’s practically always the women from the outlying towns. The straggling boys usually hang on until we get to the next city and are so incredibly glad to be back away from “barbaric” conditions.” Zash shook her head. “Some of the best and brightest attract a woman and join an outlying town.”

Zere’maya laughed. “I don’t get it. From what you’ve said all men are born rich, so they don’t have to work a day in their lives, and the ratio of women to men is something straight from a Gor novel, talk about a male fantasy world.”

“But not your fantasy world, either. Lesbianism is practically unknown. Think about why that would be.” Said Zash.

Zere’maya looked around, bewildered.

Zash looked surprised. “I know the partner you long for is female. Did you really not realize everyone can see that? ”, she asked. “I don’t know much about the relation of like to like, or where your daughter came into it but it seems right out in the open.”

Zere’maya shook her head, trying to get the bees out. “Chantilly is mine and Jaqueline’s. How she came about --, “ Zere’maya paused to try to explain. She sighed.

“You’re right, it was nothing like the way babies are made here. I almost never go to work with Jaqueline. On one of the few where we did end up working together -- “, Zere’maya paused again.

“There was some strong magic involved. We never expected to have a daughter together, but when we found out we were pregnant, we were overjoyed. Long, weird, complicated story, with details I don’t think your grandmother would like me to tell you.” Said Zere’maya.

Zash laughed. “I’ll let you tell me and mother Faa together sometime. I can tell you aren’t comfortable about the subject.”

Zere’maya sighed. “ I don’t even find it easy to talk to Chantilly about it and she repairs magic, as I do.” Zere’maya blinked. “Zash, are you flirting with me?”

“What does Chantilly look like?” asked Zash. Zere’maya sighed. “She’s my child. I know her well enough, and at so many ages. I would have an easier time telling you about Jaqueline, who she resembles more than she does me.” Zere’maya cleared her throat. “Zash, you are beautiful, really, you are, but you are weirding me out.”

“Tell me then – What does ‘Jackie’ look like?” Said Zash. A little bit of what she did with Karl and Zere’maya got squirmy. At least there was a response for her here. She didn’t dare try those motions on the boys her own age – they might tell their parents, and their parents might make her mother – or worse, Mother Faa – walk around hopeful. Zere’maya smiled.

“We met by accident, she saw me whirling away in the magic and reached for me. I’ll always see her, so brave, reaching to me, trying to pull me free, as she was being pulled in. She had never seen me before, that didn’t stop her.”

“She sounds brave.” Said Zash.

“Oh, she is.” Said Zere’maya. Zere’maya let out a long whistle, fading into a whine.

“She is usually oiled, and shines, dark and rich. Her collarbones arch under her skin, like a necklace gracing her breasts, like some sort of torso eyebrows. Her skin is about as dark as people can be, her nose is jutting-straight, like mine. Chantilly has both of our noses, so sharp it almost doesn’t look natural. Jaqueline has the cutest little rabbit-ears.” Zere’maya laughed. “Back on Earth my being mixed-race and she being Black would have been a big deal, but out here in the universe where there are so few human beings, that being human seems so much more in common. Like two people meeting up in Africa who both came from the same little Midwestern town. Almost a miracle.”

“I suppose that having a child with the only other human being I would meet for so very, very many years trumps that we are both female, somehow. I’m glad we had Chantilly, even though she sure wasn’t planned, she was serendipity.”

“You miss her terribly.” Said Zash.

“So bad it feels like dying.” Said Zere’maya. “The taste of brass in my mouth. Not that I’m not glad to have met all of you, and to be here, she feels like she’s missing, like I’m wounded. We always thought we’d grow to little old women together, sharing tea. She’s not magical, she understands that I am, and it’s like there’s a huge, aching wrongness in my life.”

“That’s not much like the relationships between women here,” said Zash.

“No, and that’s probably part of why this world didn’t jump out as different for me. Being community to people and loving people are not the same thing. This is more like a girls’ club world. I’m guessing that about as many of the women fall in love with each other here as in my own world, or any where.” Said Zere’maya. Zash nodded.

“And fewer act on that sort of impulse. Romantic love, like you and Jaqueline –“

“All right. Tell me the way the way this world works, tell me like you’d tell a young child, in nice, simple, language.” Said Zere’maya.

Zash clapped her hands. “Oooh! I get to tell you a story! All right, this is how it goes:

“About in 2020 in your time, in your world in Japan there was an escalator that was built over an ancient river, filled in with concrete. Women rode down the escalator and into this world. The spirit of the river wanted to go somewhere where people didn’t fill rivers in, so they/she/he/it came here. In the process a great many women and a few men showed up. We were already here – we’d jumped the creek to this world to be safe long ago – and helped them set up their first city.”

“The people from here are here more than ten centuries and came after your people did? And the people here don’t look particularly Japanese,” commented Zere’maya. “More like people from India, maybe –- all kinds of shades from wheatish to after midnight. And most people’s hair is textured.”

“Let me tell the story, ok? Well, there were only a few men and those men were those who prefer men partners. There were only a few young boys. The women got used to this. The temples are the descendants of the homes of the men, who realized early on they’d need some personal space. At first this was just a club around a bathhouse, then the men moved in for good.

At first women raised their sons as usual, but the women had gotten used to the way of life in an all-female society and that caused all kinds of trouble. There was lots of room to run around in and not a lot of supervision. It didn’t help that a lot of the most powerful and intelligent of the women were from a women’s acting troupe – you might have heard of Takarazuki?” asked Zash. Zere’maya shook her head. “Think Kabuki, only the other way around, with a huge female fan base. Lots of fans and quite a few actresses. The women and girls loved the boys who could get along well, but wished that they could find a way to only have wanted boys.

The rate of boys born that survived dropped. No one likes to talk about how. Grim business. But, even in a magic-poor place like this the occasional off-world trader comes through.” Said Zash.

“Even on Earth? Are there off-world traders coming and going on the homeworld?” asked Zere’maya.

“Good grief, you’re learning from the children!” Zash scowled. Zere’maya play pouted.

She continued. “The temple has a fairly accurate way to tell the gender of a child very, very early in pregnancy, and we believe they have at least one of the ways to prevent boys from being made in the first place –- Temple born children are very rarely boys. Most children are Temple born, from their mothers visiting the men who live there. Depending on the area somewhere between one in twenty and one in fifty people are male – and outside of other cultures here, like we Gypsies – there aren’t any ‘men’ as you think of them.

Most households are line marriages (you figured that out for yourself) where one group of women friends gathers together to have a family. As the children grow up they try to stay there and have children of their own. Larger or richer families often have one male among them but it’s considered a luxury to support an adult male. “

Zere’maya mused. “Then men don’t want to work?”

“Men who can attract women don’t have to, and the competition is pretty light.” Replied Zash. “Sometimes our men decide to join in on mainstream society, but far more boys join other societies running away from Aleleian society than the other way around.”

“I wonder what sort of man would really want to live in a woman’s world. It sounds almost like Mizora.” Said Zere’maya.

“You know, Mizora is a real world, not just a novel.” Said Zash. Zere’maya gasped.

“I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve been to the real Dinotopea, after all.” Said Zere’maya.

“The funny thing is that Mizora isn’t populated by White Russian-looking women,” said Zash. “In an ultimate twist of author’s privilege, it’s the home of one of the Lost Tribes. Minessah is filled with scholarly Jewish women, who eventually cast the author back out again. Mary E. Bradley Lane was the only blonde in that world.” Said Zash. Somehow Zash’s dark looks seemed especially beautiful to Zere’maya then.

“Oh and yes, it’s hardly a quiet place, it’s full of learning and technology, both magic and science living in harmony – but that being the only harmony. Most everything is as it’s described, especially the food, but the time saved is used mostly to turn the whole society into a women’s academy. I long to see it someday, when I get to lead I want to jump the creek and take the caravan there.” Said Zash.

“Crud, I’ve traveled around for a very long lifetime and never even thought to look for worlds of all women. Are there worlds of all men?” asked Zere’maya. Zash shook her head.

“Not that I know of. Most worlds with intelligent life don’t have humans at all and we tend to only go to the human habited worlds. And it’s been generations since anyone has left this world.” Zash answered. Zere’maya frowned.

“It’s amazing what people can get used to. When I hear of how men among the gypsies fare on Minessah, it’s as if they were seen as women – the whole population seems to have forgotten men exist. I’ve wondered if there was some magic going on there. Then again,” paused Zash, “Our men are just about as hairy as the women there, it’s as if the differences were seen as unimportant.”

“Do the people of this world know where they came from?” asked Zere’maya.
“They have long since forgotten,” said Zash. They have no knowledge, not that this would matter. Each young girl dreams of finding her home, her “golden combination”, with one strong, clear minded woman and her “daughters” -- surely you have seen the women wearing necklaces with linked rings, little figures all holding hands, whatever? Sometimes a man will be among them, but generally not – the women raise their children as siblings. Sometimes – often – all of the children have the same father, but he’s more like a trusted uncle among our people.”

“I’ve never encountered people like this,” said Zere’maya quietly. “I don’t know if I was supposed to be protecting them – or changing them – what the danger to the Magic was. I don’t want to change their lives, I hope it won’t mean changing what makes them so happy.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said Zash. “It’s not magic that does it. Though the temple likes to make everyone think that’s how it works.”

“Oh?” asked Zere’maya. “How then? So we actually, know, we aren’t just guessing?”

“The men enjoy making mead, and many other products using honey. It’s a male-drone-bonding sort of thing. The honey that gives the best ‘kick’ also lowers male fertility to nearly nothing. There’s another sort of ‘blessed’ drink men use if they want to have daughters. There are hints, though. You’ll often see “look to the bee” and beehives and bee decorations.”

“There were intoxicating and downright deadly honeys on Earth.” Said Zere’maya.

Zash nodded. “An added benefit is that some honeys or pollens will stop a woman’s cycles and can be used for years, so much older women who want children can have healthier babies – as if they were young women in their bodies, while with the wealth and power of older women. Most women have one or two; rich women often have three – sometimes more. Poor women are more likely to buy the honey sold at the temple. Though everyone understands. Everyone talks a good game about how desirable men are. Doesn’t change how women feel when they are intending to have their babies. Lots of love for men. Little boys – however.” Zash smiled. “We don’t buy our honey at the temples.” Zere’maya understood.

“Do you tell the local people that it’s the honey and not magic?” asked Zere’maya. Zash shrugged. “People hear what they are prepared to hear. It’s not for lack of telling, it’s that the people really just accept this as how life has always been. They have special ways to talk about the societies with equal numbers of men and women, but to them they are just ordinary.”

“As it is any place where people live.” Said Zere’maya. “When I was growing up there was lots of talk among Catholic people on the joys of huge families, and the badness of birth control – and the women still had two, three, four children. I have to wonder if there was a gender pill for men if their mashed potatoes might not have tasted funny.”

“What does our place look like?” asked Zash. Zere’maya started.

“You mean from outside, out of the world?” Zere’maya asked.

Zash pointed straight up.

“I am beginning to remember. It’s difficult and sad for me because I can’t do so much – I’m so limited this way. I can’t go there – can’t even fly. Though flying did disappoint me, because it felt just like working the silks. Only without the silks, of course.”

“Zere’maya!” scolded Zash.

“All right. I just don’t know how much you know about outside, out there. The first time I saw this place, it looked like a ball suspended in black, starry sky. No moon, no oceans, just two ice caps covering most of the world, and much of the rest being desert and mountains. This is one of the least habitable worlds I’ve ever visited, that’s one of the last thoughts I had before focusing all I had into finding the person or place that was most ‘wrong’, the point of pushing.”

“Why do you push at it?” asked Zash.

Zere’maya frowned. “It’s because there is no better feeling. It’s like a release, like finally finding a bathroom you’ve needed for far too long, like the most intense pleasure you can imagine. It’s thrilling, almost painfully pleasurable. When magic comes loose from restraints, it’s ---“ Zere’maya gestured.

“Even in a world like mine, where very little works right and disaster is almost always the result of trying, the urge is built in. It’s the magic that calls, if there’s anything strange about “planet of the catgirls” here, it’s that the calling is missing. It’s like my insides are all clammy. Does this world have a name?” asked Zere’maya.

“It’s just “the world” for everyone but the Rom. Since we go more places than just here, we have to call it something. This is Alleleia.” Said Zash. “The sound of their flapping scarves, you know.”

Zere’maya nodded. In a world known for its harsh, changeable climate and fierce bugs there really was no season where a wrap or a shawl was not advisable.

“Is your spaceship companion – the Rhee female?” asked Zash. Zere’maya shook her head.

“Sometimes she takes the form of a green girl to communicate with me, but – I don’t think male and female even apply. The Rhee aren’t that close to human. They aren’t people, not in any sense like that. They are closer to a horse ~~and~~ the vardo, who loves you and takes care of you like you or I might love any of our working animals. I think we’re to them like cats or dogs or maybe horses are to us. They have humans. We really don’t have any way of communication with them. They can communicate with us a little bit.

“I accidentally walked into my Rhee during the disaster. Or perhaps my Rhee caught me. I have never been able to determine much more than that my Rhee means well, and I have to take on faith that my Rhee would never have left me here if she had any choice in the matter. It’s easier to think of this individual as a female, but it’s like giving a gender to honor that fact that she’s sentient – almost certainly more so than I am.”

Zash snuggled down. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anything other than human.”

“Other than human is all around you. It’s recognizing the other, that we are truly not alone, that is the real trick. Unless I’m seeing things that aren’t there, even on a cut-off planet like this the other than human is here.” Replied Zere’maya.

Zash looked stern. “Nothing other than human has ever introduced it, him, them or herself me, then.”

“That I don’t doubt.” Zere’maya looked distant. “I feel scared, sometimes, thinking that something that can kill, defeat or at least delay and distract any being as tough as a Rhee.”

Zash looked troubled. “So you know she’s dead?”

“I remember. I remember as if I have known all along. I don’t think I could have dealt with that memory up ‘til now, before I found myself a place among you.” Said Zere’maya. ”I’ve observed that, when faced with reality, people often do exactly the opposite of "facing and adapting to reality", they ignore it entirely. Denial is a powerful tool for emersion into fantasy. Fantasy has always thrived in the rough times, for anyone as an escape from the harshness around them. Times. I wouldn't count on harsh times to kick people into gear.”

At that moment Karl came walking over the hill. Zash and Zere’maya smiled at each other.

“I know you two are lovers now.” Said Zash in sotto vocce. Then to Karl, “Good timing.”