Islamic and Judeo-Christian fundamentalist creeds were strong—that women were
basically cattle; that they were not only created solely for man’s benefit and
pleasure but were also inherently sly, lewd and evil creatures and must be kept
in a state of subjugation. Although that was not to say that contraception
wasn’t available. On the contrary, the rich and the powerful could afford the
secret and highly expensive prophylactics that did a roaring trade on the
various black markets. The poor, as usual, were not so lucky. They had to rely
on ill-understood natural methods, altogether a chancy business.
Those who followed the wisdom of the Earth Mother, which was more a free
celebration of natural forces than a sharply defined and disciplined religion—an
understanding, brought about to a great degree by the often strange effects of
genetic and physical mutation over the years, that the power of the mind and the
power of nature had rarely been used to their fullest extent—were more
fortunate. They had the benefit of knowledge passed down from mother to daughter
of medicaments that had been known to a few long before the Nuke—natural
specifics, natural ointments, natural oils and unguents, all derived from a
variety of roots, tree barks, mashed-up leaves and berries. Now, three
generations after the disaster, this information could be said to have become
the solid bedrock upon which the slowly expanding worship of the Earth Mother
rested.
So Krysty theoretically knew all about sex. It was a natural function and a
natural pleasure. And she knew, too, exactly how not to get pregnant. The only
thing that remained to be conquered was the act itself, the physical and
emotional experience firsthand.
Thinking about her feelings as she’d wrestled with young Carl, and mulling over
what her mother had often talked about when she was alive, how if there was any
first-time-ever obstacle at all, it was only an insignificant wafer-thin tissue
of membrane and it was better to get it out of the way sooner rather than later
and when the time came she’d know about it and know what to do, Krysty weighed
things up as coolly and calmly as any post-Nuke fourteen-year-old could have and
figured that the time had indeed come. She knew what to do, and she did it. Or,
rather, she and Carl did it together, and it wasn’t the most sensational
experience she had ever had, but on the other hand it wasn’t half bad, not half
bad at all.
It was only years later—maybe seven or even eight, when she returned to Harmony
after one of her bouts of wanderlust—that she discovered, to her amusement, that
Uncle Tyas had been deliberate in instigating that, as he was deliberate in most
things. That he’d purposely thrown her and Carl together, hoping they’d like
each other, because he’d figured Carl for an essentially good, honest, caring
kid.
Krysty’s amusement at this discovery, which was let drop, again deliberately, by
Uncle Tyas, was tinged with mild annoyance. No one likes to find out that
someone else has been pulling her strings.
“That was gross interference, Uncle Tyas. What if I hadn’t liked him?”
“You did like him,” he pointed out, arms wide, an innocent expression on his
hawklike face.
“Yeah, but…”
She could find no words of condemnation because none applied.
“Better to let it go to someone you like than by force to a stranger or someone
you hate,” Uncle Tyas continued. “Virginity means nothing. It’s a moralistic
ideal from an age that in a certain way was darker and more twisted than our
own. But that first time, the way it happens, Krysty, maybe influences your
whole life.”
Which was true.
The thought and memories and emotions tumbled and shifted around in Krysty’s
mind as the war wag, like some primeval brute animal, bucked and shook along the
blacktop. The images sharpened, then defocused. Became clear again, then vague.
Now Uncle Tyas was dead, he and all his companions on that strange pilgrimage.
Rest in peace, she thought.
“YOU WERE REMEMBERING,” said Ryan.
He had watched her as she’d stared blank-eyed at the floor. The pause had
drifted on for maybe thirty heartbeats, and it was clear from her face, from the