The Inverted World

  “Isn’t that so?”

  “No. There are a lot of women brought into the city in an effort to boost the population. Or, more specifically, in the hope they’ll produce female babies.”

  I said: “My mother came from outside the city.”

  “Did she?” For the first time since we had met, Victoria looked ill at ease. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I thought it would be obvious.”

  “I suppose it was, but somehow I never thought…”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said.

  Abruptly, Victoria fell silent. It really wasn’t of much concern to me, and I regretted having mentioned it.

  “Tell me more about this,” I said.

  “No…there’s not much more. What about you? What’s your guild like?”

  “It’s O.K.,” I said.

  Quite apart from the fact that the oath forbade me to speak about it, I felt no inclination to talk. In that abrupt silence from Victoria I had gained a distinct impression that there had been more to say, but that some discretion prevented her from doing so. For the whole of my life—or at least as much of it as I could remember—the absence of my mother had been treated as a matter of fact. My father, whenever we spoke of it, talked factually about it, and there seemed to be no stigma attached. Indeed, many of the boys in the crèche had been in the same situation as I and, what is more, most of the girls. Until the subject had provoked this reaction in Victoria, I’d never thought about it.

  “You’re something of an oddity,” I said, hoping to get her to return to the subject by approaching it from a different direction. “Your mother is still in the city.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  So that was to be the end of it. I decided to let it drop. In any event, I hadn’t especially wanted to discuss matters outside ourselves. I had come to the city to spend my time getting to know Victoria, not to talk about genealogy.

  But the feeling persisted; the conversation had died.

  “What’s out there?” I said, indicating the window. “Can we go there?”

  “If you like. I’ll show you.”

  I followed her out of the room, and along the corridor to where a door led to the outside. There was not much to see: the open space was no more than an alley running between the two parts of the residential block. At one end of it there was a raised section, reached by a wooden staircase. We walked first to the opposite end, where another door led back into the city; returning, we climbed the steps and came out on a small platform, where several wooden seats were placed, and where there was room to move with some freedom. On two sides the platform was bounded by higher walls, presumably containing other parts of the city’s interior, and the side by which access was gained looked down over the roofs of the residential blocks and along the alleyway. But on the fourth side the view was uninterrupted and it was possible to see out into the surrounding countryside. This was a revelation to me: the terms of the oath had implied that no one but guildsmen should ever see outside the city.

  “What do you think?” Victoria said, sitting down on one of the seats which looked out across the view.

  I sat next to her. “I like it.”

  “Have you been out there?”

  “Yes.” It was difficult; already I was finding myself in conflict with the terms of the oath. How could I talk to Victoria about my work without breaking what I had sworn?

  “We’re not allowed up here very often. It’s locked at night, and only open at some hours of the day. Sometimes it’s locked for several days on end.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Do you?” she said.

  “It’s probably…something to do with the work out there.”

  “Which you’re not going to talk about.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t.”

  She glanced at me. “You’re very tanned. Do you work in the sun?”

  “Some of the time.”

  “This place is locked when the sun’s overhead. All I’ve ever seen of it is when the rays touch the higher parts of the buildings.”

  “There’s nothing to see,” I said. “It’s very bright, and you can’t stare at it.”

  “I’d like to find that out for myself.”

  I said: “What are you doing at the moment? In your work, I mean?”

  “Nutrition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s determining how to work out a balanced diet. We have to make sure that the synthetic food contains enough protein, and that people eat the right amount of vitamins.” She paused, her voice having reflected a general lack of interest in the subject. “Sunlight contains vitamins, you know.”

  “Does it?”

  “Vitamin D. It’s produced in the body by the action of sunlight on the skin. That’s worth knowing if you never see the sun.”

  “But it can be synthesized,” I said.

  “Yes…and it is. Shall we go back to the room and have some more tea?”

  I said nothing to this. I don’t know what I had expected by seeing Victoria, but I had not anticipated this. Illusions of some romantic ideal had tempted me during my days working with Malchuskin, and from time to time these had been tempered by a feeling that perhaps she and I might have to adapt to each other; in any event it had never occurred to me that there would be such an undercurrent of resentment. I had seen us working together towards realizing the intimate relationship formed for us by our parents, and somehow shaping it in such a way that it would become a realistic and perhaps even loving relationship. What I had not foreseen was that Victoria had seen us both in larger terms: that I would be forever enjoying the advantages of a way of life forbidden to her.

  We stayed on the platform. Victoria’s remark about returning to the room had been ironic, and I was sensitive enough to identify it. Anyhow, I felt that for different reasons we would both prefer to stay on the platform; I did, because my work outside had given me a taste for fresh air, and by contrast I now found the interior of the city buildings claustrophobic, and I supposed Victoria did, for this platform was as near as she could come to leaving the city. Even so, the undulating countryside to the east of the city served as a reminder of the newly discovered difference that separated us.

  “You could apply to transfer to a guild,” I said in a moment, “I’m sure—”

  “I’m the wrong sex,” she said abruptly. “It’s men only, or didn’t you realize that?”

  “No…”

  “It hasn’t taken me long to work a few things out,” she went on, speaking quickly and barely suppressing her bitterness. “I’d seen it all my life and never recognized it: my father always away from the city, my mother working in her job, organizing all those things we took for granted, like food and heating and disposal of sewage. Now I have recognized it. Women are too valuable to risk outside. They’re needed here in the city because they breed, and they can be made to breed again and again. If they’re not lucky enough to be born in the city, they can be brought from outside and sent away when they’ve served their purpose.” The sensitive subject again, but this time she didn’t falter. “I know that the work outside the city has to be done, and whatever it is it’s done at risk…but I’ve been given no option. Just because I’m a woman I have no choice but to be kept inside this damned place and learn fascinating things about food production, and whenever I can I have to give birth.”

  I said: “Do you not want to marry me?”

  “There’s no alternative.”

  “Thanks.”

  She stood up, walked angrily towards the steps. I followed her down, and walked behind her as she returned to her room. I waited in the doorway, watching her as she stood with her back to me, looking out of the window at the narrow alleyway between the buildings.

  “Do you want me to go?” I said.

  “No…come in and close the door.”

  She didn’t move as I did this.

  “I’ll make some m
ore tea,” she said.

  “O.K.”

  The water in the pan was still warm, and it took only a minute or so to bring it back to boiling.

  “We don’t have to marry,” I said.

  “If it’s not you it’d be someone else.” She turned and sat beside me, taking her cup of the synthetic brew. “I’ve nothing against you, Helward. You should know that. Whether we like it or not, my life and yours is dominated by the guild system. We can’t do anything about that.”

  “Why not? Systems can be changed.”

  “Not this one! It’s too firmly entrenched. The guilds have the city sewn up, for reasons I don’t suppose I’ll ever know. Only the guilds can change the system, and they never will.”

  “You sound very sure.”

  “I am,” she said. “And for the good reason that the system which runs my life is itself dominated by what goes on outside the city. As I can never take part in that I can never do anything to determine my own life.”

  “But you could…through me.”

  “Even you won’t talk about it.”

  “I can’t,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t even tell you that.”

  “Guild secrecy.”

  “If you like,” I said.

  “And even as you’re sitting here now, you’re subscribing to it.”

  “I have to,” I said simply. “I was made to swear—”

  Then I remembered: the oath itself was one of the terms of the oath. I had breached it, and so easily and naturally that it had been done before I’d thought.

  To my surprise, Victoria reacted not at all.

  “So the guild system is ratified,” she said. “It makes sense.”

  I finished my tea. “I think I’d better go.”

  “Are you angry with me?” she said.

  “No. It’s just—”

  “Don’t go. I’m sorry I lost my temper with you…it’s not your fault. Something you said just now: through you I could determine my own life. What did you mean?”

  “I’m not sure. I think I meant that as the wife of a guildsman, which I’ll be one day, you’d have more of a chance of…”

  “Of what?”

  “Well…seeing through me whatever sense there is in the system.”

  “And you’re sworn not to tell me.”

  “I…yes.”

  “So first-order guildsmen have it all worked out. The system demands secrecy.”

  She leaned back and closed her eyes.

  I was very confused, and angry with myself. I had been an apprentice for ten days, and already I was technically under sentence of death. It was too bizarre to take seriously, but my memory of the oath was that the threat had been a convincing one at the time. The confusion arose because unwittingly Victoria had involved the tentative emotional commitment we had made to each other. I could see the conflict, but could do nothing about it. I knew from my own life inside the crèche the subtle frustrations that arose through being allowed no access to the other parts of the city; if that were extended to a larger scale—allowed a small part in the running of the city, but given a point beyond which no actions were possible—that frustration would continue. But surely this was no new problem in the city? Victoria and I were not the first to be married in this way. Before us there must have been others who had encountered the same rift. Had they simply taken the system as it appeared to them?

  Victoria didn’t move as I left the room and went towards the crèche.

  Away from her, away from the inescapable syndrome of reaction and counter-reaction by talking to her, the concerns she expressed faded and I became more worried about my own situation. If the oath were to be taken at all seriously I could be killed if word were to reach one of the guildsmen. Could breaching the oath be that dreadful a thing to do?

  Would Victoria tell anyone else what I had said? On thinking this, my first impulse was to go back to see her, and plead for her silence…but that would have made both the breach and her own resentment more serious.

  I wasted the rest of the day, lying on my bunk and fretting about the entire situation. Later I ate in one of the dining-rooms of the city, and was thankful not to see Victoria.

  In the middle of the night, Victoria came to my cabin. My first awareness was of the sound of the door closing, and as I opened my eyes I saw her as a tall shape standing beside the bed.

  “Wha—?”

  “Ssh. It’s me.”

  “What do you want?” I reached out to find the light-switch, but her hand came across and took my wrist.

  “Don’t turn on the light.”

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, and I sat up.

  “I’m sorry, Helward. That’s all I’ve come to say.”

  “O.K.”

  She laughed. “You’re still asleep, aren’t you?”

  “Not sure. Might be.”

  She leaned forward, and I felt her hands press lightly against my chest and then move up until they were behind my neck. She kissed me.

  “Don’t say anything,” she said. “I’m just very sorry.”

  We kissed again, and her hands moved until her arms were tight around me.

  “You wear a night-shirt in bed.”

  “What else?”

  “Take it off.”

  She stood up suddenly, and I heard her undoing the coat she was wearing. When she sat down again, much closer, she was naked. I fumbled with my night-shirt, getting it caught as it came over my head. Victoria pulled back the covers, and squeezed in beside me.

  “You came down here like that?” I said.

  “There’s no one about.” Her face was very close to mine. We kissed again, and as I pulled away, my head banged against the cabin wall. Victoria cuddled up close to me, pressing her body against mine. Suddenly she laughed loudly.

  “Christ! Shut up!”

  “What’s up?” she said.

  “Someone will hear.”

  “They’re all asleep.”

  “They won’t be if you keep laughing.”

  “I said don’t talk.” She kissed me again.

  In spite of the fact that my body was already responding eagerly to her, I was stricken with alarm. We were making too much noise. The walls in the crèche were thin, and I knew from long experience that sounds transmitted readily. With her laughter and our voices, the fact that of necessity we were squeezed in the bunk against the wall, I was certain we’d awaken the whole crèche. I pushed her away and told her this.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “It does.”

  I flung back the bed-covers, and scrambled over her. I turned on the light. Victoria shielded her eyes against the glare, and I tossed her coat to her.

  “Come on…we’ll go to your room.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” I was pulling on my uniform.

  “Don’t put that on,” she said. “It smells.”

  “Does it?”

  “Abominably.”

  She sat up and as she did so I stared at her, admiring the neatness of her naked body. She pulled the coat around her shoulders, then got out of the bed.

  “O.K.,” she said. “But let’s be quick.”

  We left my cabin and let ourselves out of the crèche. We hurried along the corridors. As Victoria had said, this late at night there was no one about, and the corridor lights were dimmed. In a few minutes we had reached her room. I closed the door, and bolted it. Victoria sat down on the bed, holding her coat around her.

  I took off my uniform and climbed into the bed.

  “Come on, Victoria.”

  “I don’t feel like it now.”

  “Oh, Christ…why not?”

  “We should have stayed where we were,” she said.

  “Do you want to go back?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Get in with me,” I said. “Don’t sit there.”

  “O.K.”

  She undid her coat and dropped it on the floor, then cl
imbed in beside me. We put our arms around each other, and kissed for a moment, but I knew what she meant. The desire had left me as rapidly as it had come. After a while we just lay there in silence. The sensation of being in bed with her was pleasant, but although I was aware of the sensuality of it nothing happened.

  Eventually, I said: “Why did you come to see me?”

  “I told you.”

  “Was that all…that you were sorry?”

  “I think so.”

  “I nearly came to see you,” I said. “I’ve done something I shouldn’t. I’m frightened.”

  “What was it?”

  “I told you…I told you I had been made to swear something. You were right, the guilds impose secrecy on their members. When I became an apprentice I had to take an oath, and part of it was that I had to swear I would not reveal the existence of the oath. I broke it by telling you.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “The penalty is death.”

  “But why should they ever find out?”

  “If…”

  Victoria said: “If I say anything, you mean. Why should I?”

  “I’m not sure. But the way you were talking today, the resentment at not being allowed to lead your own life…I felt sure you would use it against me.”

  “Until just now it meant nothing to me. I wouldn’t use it. Anyway, why should a wife betray her husband?”

  “You still want to marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though it was arranged for us?”

  “It’s a good arrangement,” she said, and held me tighter for a few moments. “Don’t you feel the same?”

  “Yes.”

  A few minutes later, Victoria said: “Will you tell me what goes on outside the city?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Because of the oath?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re already in breach of it. What could matter now?”

  “There’s nothing to tell anyway,” I said. “I’ve spent ten days doing a lot of physical work, and I’m not sure why.”

  “What kind of physical work?”

  “Victoria…don’t question me about it.”

  “Well tell me about the sun. Why is no one in the city allowed to see it?”