Juno of Taris Read Online Free Page B

be done.’
    Irian stared straight ahead as if he had not heard Majool’s words. I didn’t blame him. They sounded more like a threat than a thanking.
    Camnoon, who rarely spoke in the meetings, merely said, ‘My thanks to you, Irian.’
    One after the other, people spoke their stories and their memories. Mother got to her feet and thanked him for helping when all three of us were ill with the measles. I couldn’t remember it. I hadn’t known about it.
    At last, there was no more to be said. Fisa walked over and hugged him. ‘Yours has been a life well lived,’ she said, and we heard the effort it cost her to speak. ‘You have been a generous and loving man. Our lives are warmer and richer for your presence.’
    Irian’s was the last word. He did not rise from the chair and his voice was tired, so very tired. ‘Thank you, my people. Your love sustains me for the final moments of my time here. And it brings joy to my heart to know that my end will signal the beginning for another citizen of Taris. As I leave this life, I will be thinking of the child who is to take my place.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Her parents will be able to make her a model citizen of Taris. I wonder if that is such a good thing. Conformity. Compliance.’ He pushed himself upright, the scraping sound of his chair almost covering the gasp of astonishment – with almost his last breath he had questioned a basic law of Taris. ‘Truly, I do not care any more, but even so, I ask you to guard this treasure well and give her your love.’
    The next child to be born would be a girl for that’s how it was with us; two boys followed by two girls.
    We stood and sang one of the old songs from Outside as the people of his generation walked with him out of the arena. They would stay with him while he threw the switch that would bring a peaceful end to his life. They would support him if he decided to change his mind. But he wouldn’t; nobody ever had, for on Taris, we made decisions carefully after considered and rational thought.
    Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
    The darkness deepens; love with me abide.
    When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
    Help of the helpless, O abide with me.
    Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
    Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
    Change and decay in all around I see;
    O love that changest not, abide with me.
    Our voices faded into silence, and in silence we filed from the arena to walk home through the darkness just as the evening rain began to fall.
    ‘He didn’t even have children of his own,’ I sobbed, stumbling along the pathway where every few steps a leaf dropped a fat tear on my head.
    Dad sighed. ‘His wife died a long time ago. But nobody of his generation had children.’
    I knew the story but I asked anyway, hoping that this time I’d get a different version, one that wasn’t as bald as our heads.
    ‘It was a time of crisis,’ Dad said, the familiar words rolling off his tongue. ‘A thousand times worse than the measles epidemic, they say. They thought Taris would fail. Nobody wanted to bring children into a world that was dying. The people suffered but their hard work saved the island.’
    Mother finished the story. ‘But it was too late for the people of Irian’s generation to have children.’
    Same old story. Should have saved my breath.
    We turned off the path into our own garden, dodging the dripping oleander bush. Inside the house we towelled ourselves dry. ‘It’s easier to dry a bald head,’ Mother said, smiling at me.
    But I yearned for hair that held the water, that flew behind me when I ran, that floated around my head when I lay on my back in the sea.
    Dad whisked the towel over my damp arms. ‘Try not to make a fuss on Friday, my daughter.’ Friday was shaving day for my learning stratum. I hated Fridays.
    Irian.
    I didn’t want to think about him. ‘Will you be allowed to have the baby this time?’ I asked, as usual speaking without thought.