Madame nodded. “You want a supernume of good repute. Someone trustworthy.”
Calvy said, “Someone cut long enough ago that he’s over the trauma, settled down, able to enjoy what’s enjoyable without being angry at the world. The angry ones take it out on the children.”
Madame pursed her lips and Simon frowned.
“What?” Calvy asked.
Simon blurted, “Of course they take it out on the children. What does anyone expect? Removing a man’s sex organ doesn’t increase his happiness, or his delight in other men’s children!”
“Simon is right, Calvy,” said Madame. “I think all this amputation business really goes too far. We’re seeing more and more chatrons every year. The fact that many of them die makes them rare, their rarity makes them status symbols. Would you consider a supernume who has not been altered? Or even a retired Consort? If we pick carefully, I can guarantee you, he’ll have a better temper and more considerate feelings. It’s the maiming chatrons really hate, and their anger must manifest itself somehow.”
Calvy said plaintively, “But Tinsy has been so good.”
Madame said, “I located him for you, Calvy. He was cut when he was a baby, before he was conscious of there being anything there to lose. He already had a sweet disposition and was hardworking by nature, with a great desire to please. I don’t know of any other like him, but I do know of at least two retired Consorts and one supernume who’re very good with children. They genuinely like them, and they aren’t bitter about life. The two Consorts simply like taking care of people, and the supernume is looking for a new place because his last charge is just entering school, and he’s really not needed in the family anymore.”
“Was it a good family?” Calvy asked, significantly.
“It was a kind family for one so well-to-do,” said Simon, promptly. “I know who she means, and he is a good lad. The mother doesn’t spend all her time partying and being cultural, she stays in touch with the children and doesn’t forget their names or their birthdays. The father is a good man, considerably overworked, what with business and caring for the children and overseeing the domestic arrangements, but then, which of you Men of Business isn’t overworked, present company excepted.”
Madame said, “I can understand your wife’s concern, though being so concerned is unconventional. Carezza should be so involved with her Consort, she wouldn’t be worried about the children.”
“But then, Calvy doesn’t have a conventional family,” said Simon with a grin. “He and Carezza seem to have something quite exceptional going on.”
“As my colleagues are constantly throwing into my face,” Calvy confessed. “I sometimes find it hard to imagine how other men manage. They work all day, every day, they worry over their young children, trying to be sure the nursery tender does a good job and doesn’t smack them about, they gamble with the investment made in the children, knowing there won’t be enough girls born to keep all the boys in the family, so if they’re at all soft-hearted, they try to make some kind of provision for the supernumes, and all this while their wives are going here and there, enjoying themselves.
“With Carezza and me, even with a good child tender, it’s so much easier with both of us involved. I really feel for some of my colleagues. Those with six or eight offspring look quite worn out. I look ahead to the time that we finally build a reproductive center and have enough women that all men can live as Carezza and I do.”
Madame laughed, the laugh turning gleeful when she saw his offended expression. “Oh, my dear Calvy, do you really think having more women available would make everyone live as you and Carezza do? Come now, dear, and you a bit of an historian?”
He flushed. He had been unbuttoned by the wine and said something stupid. She was right, of course. Having more women wouldn’t assure that his colleagues lived as he and Carezza did.
“I’ll interview your supernume,” he agreed. “And I’ll talk to Carezza about it. Perhaps you’re right, Madame. You very frequently are.”