you know you’ll get into trouble at school as
well. The Academy is very strict about not allowing its pupils to use slang.”
Diya pulled a
face. “The Academy rules don’t even make sense. The teachers scold us for
saying amaz instead of amazing, but then they complain if we say something is
interesting instead of saying interest. Why do they do that? If we’re supposed
to speak formal Language at all times, then saying interest or fascinate should
be as wrong as any other slang.”
My youngest
sister had a habit of asking awkward questions. Father said it was because Diya
was highly intelligent, with an analytical, enquiring mind. Mother said it was
because Diya liked being difficult. Right now, my sympathies were with Mother.
I hesitated, trying to think of a good answer.
“Saying
fascinate is an accepted modification of formal Language used in the highest
social circles in Alpha sector,” I said at last.
“So Mother wants
to stop us using slang that’s in common usage on all eleven or twelve hundred
worlds of humanity, and encourage us to use slang that’s only used by
aristocrats on the capital planet of Alpha sector.” Diya sighed. “What’s the
point in that? Even if we visit Adonis, we’re hardly likely to meet any Adonis
Knights.”
“It’s not just
used on Adonis,” said Asha. “It’s used in the first social circles here on
Danae. That’s why the Academy insists on us using it.”
“I hate going to
the Academy,” said Diya.
Nobody bothered
to answer that. The Academy was the finest, most expensive, and most exclusive
school for girls on Danae. Mother had attended the Academy. Both our
grandmothers had attended the Academy. That meant we all had to attend the
Academy as well.
Diya wrinkled
her nose. “You all hate going to the Academy too, don’t you?”
“It has impressive
gardens,” said Asha.
“But you hate
going there,” said Diya.
“It has fine
architecture,” said Sitara.
“But you hate
going there,” repeated Diya.
Asha and Sitara
both looked at me. What could I say? The Academy was famous for its glorious
flowerbeds and genuine marble pillars, but it was a miserably strict place,
with people constantly watching you and criticizing your behaviour, your
stance, your accent, even how you were breathing.
I did the
cowardly thing, and evaded the question entirely. “I’ve taken my final examinations,
so I’m not attending the Academy any longer.”
Diya made an
inelegant snorting noise that would have earned her a week’s detention if any
of the Academy’s teachers had heard her. “But …”
She was
interrupted by the sound of the clock in the hall chiming half past one. It was
a totally accurate reproduction of an ancient nineteenth century clock, apart
from the adjustment to allow for the length of a day on Danae being slightly
different to the length of a day on Earth.
All four of us
stood up, checked our appearance in the mirror, and filed out of the room.
Mother was already waiting for us in the hall, so the four of us lined up
facing the house portal. Mother adjusted the folds of our saris, and tidied
Diya’s hair, before taking her place next to us. We all looked expectantly at
the portal for the next thirty seconds, then there was a series of musical
notes. It was a moment before we realized they weren’t actually coming from the
portal, but the front door instead.
We all hastily
swung round to face the door, and Mother gave the faintest of groans before
speaking. “Front door command open.”
The door swung
open, my grandmother entered, and Mother stepped forward to greet her. “Welcome,
Mother Rostha.”
She paused
before continuing in a pointed voice. “There’s no need to arrive using the
public portal outside, Mother Rostha. The house portal is set to accept your
genetic code, so you can portal straight into the house.”
Grandmother
frowned at Mother’s sari, and adjusted its folds before answering. “I keep
forgetting you have a