couldn’t listen any more. It was too much. Hokma’s tests were too hard. She’d had to watch her kill worms and now she was being told not to have her shot and to grow up different from every other kid in Is-Land. This was an emergency, yes, a very big emergency. She disentangled herself from Hokma’s arms. ‘
I don’t know what to do
,’ she shouted.
‘I know – I know it’s a very difficult choice. That’s why I brought you here. So you could ask Gaia to help you make your own decision.’
‘But how do I do
that
?’
‘Different people have different ways. I usually sit quietly and ask Gaia to send me a sign.’
‘What
kind
of a sign?’
‘It could be anything – something living, or a cloud, even a picture in your mind. I usually close my eyes to start, then if nothing comes to me, I open them and see what happens.’
If Klor had done it and Hokma did it, it must work. And at least if she closed her eyes she could try to not think about anything at all. The sunshine made the inside of her eye lids orange. Actually, it was nice like this. If she breathed quietly and didn’t move, the ice pebble stayed still too. If she breathed deeply, into her stomach muscles, the ice even melted a little around the edges. Hokma was quiet as well. Around them, the forest birds chattered and cooed.
Astra opened her eyes. In the far distance, between the gap in the trees, a narrow segment of steppe rolled to the horizon; in front of her in the meadow, an emerald-black beetle crawled out from beneath a dock leaf and waddled away. Right beside the toe of her left sandal a bee dozily nuzzled an orchid.
It wasn’t as if a big sign lit up and flashed the answer in her head. It was more like watching the sun rising in the morning and gradually making things clear. Most of the spider orchid stems were tall, with several blossoms each, growing close together, but the flower the bee was suckling was alone.
‘Look, Hokma.’ She pointed at the orchid. The bee was clinging to it now, almost pulling the stem over with its weight. ‘That stem’s only got one flower. And it’s all by itself, next to me. Do you think that’s a sign?’
‘Maybe. What do you think?’
Astra leaned over the plant. The bee flew away and she noticed something strange: the purple vertical lines on the lip
met at the top
.
‘Hokma,’ she gasped, ‘it’s got an
A
. Not an H.’
‘Really?’ Hokma reached over and touched the orchid. ‘Well, look at that.’
Astra’s face was glowing, her heart singing. ‘A for
Astra
. Gaia’s giving me Her wisdom, Hokma! She’s telling me that I’m
supposed
to be different from the others. That I shouldn’t have my shot. That’s the answer. For sure. One hundred per cent.’
‘Good girl. Now listen carefully. This is the plan.’
As the long fingers of the sun stroked her hair and striped Hokma’s cheeks, Astra listened and remembered and wondered, in a small room in her mind, if somewhere in one of the tall spiky pine trees that surrounded them, the Non-Lander girl was watching and waiting for all the Or-kids to grow up dull and stupid. Well, maybe they would. But
she
wouldn’t;
she
would stay smart. She would catch the Non-Lander girl and help train the Owleons and grow up to be a famous scientist, and Hokma would love her the way a Birth-Code-Shelter mother loved her child.
1.5
Passing through West Gate hand in hand with her Shelter mother, Astra felt like a giant, striding into Or in seven-league boots, taking command of everything she saw. Here was her innocent community, anchored in its mountain valley by the central hub of Core House and Craft House, a cosy cluster of old stone walls, cedar extensions and solar roofs. Spiralling out like petals from the two main buildings were Or’s vegetable, herb and flower gardens, its fruit orchard and beehives, sports field and kidney-shaped swimming pool: a blossom of industry, health and nutrition, all surrounded and powered by the red Kinbat
I don’t know what to do
,’ she shouted.
‘I know – I know it’s a very difficult choice. That’s why I brought you here. So you could ask Gaia to help you make your own decision.’
‘But how do I do
that
?’
‘Different people have different ways. I usually sit quietly and ask Gaia to send me a sign.’
‘What
kind
of a sign?’
‘It could be anything – something living, or a cloud, even a picture in your mind. I usually close my eyes to start, then if nothing comes to me, I open them and see what happens.’
If Klor had done it and Hokma did it, it must work. And at least if she closed her eyes she could try to not think about anything at all. The sunshine made the inside of her eye lids orange. Actually, it was nice like this. If she breathed quietly and didn’t move, the ice pebble stayed still too. If she breathed deeply, into her stomach muscles, the ice even melted a little around the edges. Hokma was quiet as well. Around them, the forest birds chattered and cooed.
Astra opened her eyes. In the far distance, between the gap in the trees, a narrow segment of steppe rolled to the horizon; in front of her in the meadow, an emerald-black beetle crawled out from beneath a dock leaf and waddled away. Right beside the toe of her left sandal a bee dozily nuzzled an orchid.
It wasn’t as if a big sign lit up and flashed the answer in her head. It was more like watching the sun rising in the morning and gradually making things clear. Most of the spider orchid stems were tall, with several blossoms each, growing close together, but the flower the bee was suckling was alone.
‘Look, Hokma.’ She pointed at the orchid. The bee was clinging to it now, almost pulling the stem over with its weight. ‘That stem’s only got one flower. And it’s all by itself, next to me. Do you think that’s a sign?’
‘Maybe. What do you think?’
Astra leaned over the plant. The bee flew away and she noticed something strange: the purple vertical lines on the lip
met at the top
.
‘Hokma,’ she gasped, ‘it’s got an
A
. Not an H.’
‘Really?’ Hokma reached over and touched the orchid. ‘Well, look at that.’
Astra’s face was glowing, her heart singing. ‘A for
Astra
. Gaia’s giving me Her wisdom, Hokma! She’s telling me that I’m
supposed
to be different from the others. That I shouldn’t have my shot. That’s the answer. For sure. One hundred per cent.’
‘Good girl. Now listen carefully. This is the plan.’
As the long fingers of the sun stroked her hair and striped Hokma’s cheeks, Astra listened and remembered and wondered, in a small room in her mind, if somewhere in one of the tall spiky pine trees that surrounded them, the Non-Lander girl was watching and waiting for all the Or-kids to grow up dull and stupid. Well, maybe they would. But
she
wouldn’t;
she
would stay smart. She would catch the Non-Lander girl and help train the Owleons and grow up to be a famous scientist, and Hokma would love her the way a Birth-Code-Shelter mother loved her child.
1.5
Passing through West Gate hand in hand with her Shelter mother, Astra felt like a giant, striding into Or in seven-league boots, taking command of everything she saw. Here was her innocent community, anchored in its mountain valley by the central hub of Core House and Craft House, a cosy cluster of old stone walls, cedar extensions and solar roofs. Spiralling out like petals from the two main buildings were Or’s vegetable, herb and flower gardens, its fruit orchard and beehives, sports field and kidney-shaped swimming pool: a blossom of industry, health and nutrition, all surrounded and powered by the red Kinbat
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