I felt both embarrassed and deeply ashamed, but I remembered my Academy training, and the stern lecture our deportment teacher had given me last year. “Feeling embarrassed is acceptable, Dalmora. Allowing other people to see you are embarrassed is not. Showing your embarrassment is pure self-indulgence, because it makes other people feel uncomfortable.”
I fought to get myself under control. Luckily, Lecturer Playdon was talking again rather than waiting for an answer from me. “It’s perfectly sensible to want more information about the conditions on our Pre-history Foundation course. Most of our students don’t give it a moment’s thought.”
I had half a second to hope that meant he wasn’t thinking too badly of me after all, before he continued. “They don’t even bother to read all the detailed course information. They assume Earth is like any other world, and they’ll be living in standard student accommodation. They get quite a shock when they see the truth.”
Now I wished I could sink into the grass-covered ground and vanish forever. I’d known I’d had a privileged lifestyle, attending a fine school, living in a luxurious home and wearing expensive clothes. I hadn’t thought it had affected me as a person, but I was wrong. Father said we should always treat others with courtesy and respect, but I was taking up a lecturer’s time to get information when I hadn’t even spent five minutes looking up the course details.
It wasn’t that I’d been too lazy to do it, I’d just never thought about it, but that seemed even worse. Had I grown so accustomed to having everything handed to me that I couldn’t even think for myself any longer?
“The course information says that a class is allocated accommodation in a dome near the ancient city they are studying,” said Father. “What is that accommodation like?”
“I’m afraid the accommodation is very basic,” said Lecturer Playdon, “with a class of thirty students and their lecturer packed into a single dome. Given those students come from widely differing planets and cultures, sharing the dome can be a learning experience in itself. The actual work is hard too. Hours of gruelling excavation work each day, more hours of lectures, and even more time working on assignments.”
Father was frowning now. “I’m not sure that would be suitable.”
Lecturer Playdon sighed. “However, I’ve been told that, given your long and mutually beneficial relationship with University Asgard, there could be certain exceptions to the rules in Dalmora’s case. The residency requirement could be waived to allow her to arrange her own accommodation and portal to the dome each day. She could also be excused all but minimal excavation work.”
I could tell by his expression that Lecturer Playdon had been ordered to say that. His superiors at University Asgard were prepared to make concessions to get the daughter of Ventrak Rostha to join one of their courses. Lecturer Playdon hated offering those concessions, and my father …
I glanced at my father and saw he was hesitating. I knew he’d have strong moral objections to such an offer. He’d certainly never accept anything like it for himself, but for one of his daughters …
He started speaking. “I admit that would ease the …”
Interrupting my father in mid-sentence was shockingly bad behaviour. I did it anyway, because I mustn’t let him compromise decades of perfect integrity to save me a little discomfort.
“Lecturer Playdon, if I join a course it has to be on exactly the same terms as everyone else. Living with students from other sectors would be a great opportunity for me to learn more about their cultures, and the excavation work is surely an integral part of the course. One day, I hope to help my father make a new vid series, covering events from back in the days of pre-history, so it’s essential I learn as much as possible about Earth and its ancient cities.”
Lecturer Playdon stared at me for a moment, then something almost imperceptible about his body language changed. I felt as if I’d passed a test and been approved.
“That’s an admirable ambition, Dalmora,” he said. “I’d very much like to see a Pre-history of Humanity vid series.”
He paused. “You’ve probably been wondering why I asked you both to meet me here. My class is currently working on London Main Dig Site, but you can’t go near the ruins without special protective clothing. Please follow me.”
He turned and led the way up a rise in the ground. We followed him and I found myself on a hilltop looking out across …
“All those ruins are London?” I asked in awe. “Stretching as far as I can see?”
He nodded. “We’re on top of Parliament Hill, the highest point in London. They deliberately left this area free from buildings, and there’s no especially hazardous wildlife round here, so we’re safe enough in ordinary clothes.”
I was still staring into the distance, totally amazed. “So big. So impossibly big.”
“Humanity may never build such cities again,” said Lecturer Playdon. “Once you have portal technology, and can travel instantaneously around a planet, you don’t need cities any longer, but London dates from thousands of years before the invention of portals.”
“Thousands of years.” I repeated the words. “The first settlement on Danae was built four hundred and fifty years ago in 2338.”
Lecturer Playdon laughed. “We think there were scattered settlements in this area even before the days of written records. The city itself was founded 2,800 years ago by the Romans. I’m sure they came to stand on this hill and look at the view, just the way we’re doing now.”
I looked down at the ground in wonderment. “This was part of the original Roman Empire? Interest!”
“Yes,” said Lecturer Playdon. “During the second century, 60,000 people lived in this city.”
I shook my head. “So London was a bigger city then, than any settlement we have on Danae today!”
“Yes, but then the Roman Empire declined, and the city was almost abandoned at the end of the fifth century. By the sixteenth century, it had grown again to about 50,000 people, and then …” Lecturer Playdon shrugged. “The cities everywhere grew bigger and bigger after that. We think London housed about ten million people at its peak. The invention of portals halved the population of all the cities, and then came interstellar portals and people headed for the stars.”
He pointed. “You see that huge, ruined, dome-shaped building?”
I nodded.
“This morning, my class were excavating near there,” he said. “We found several items. I’d been told your family had an heirloom necklace, and I see you’re wearing it now.”
“Yes,” I smiled. “It was made over five centuries ago in Jaipur.”
“This is several centuries older than that.” He handed a gold ring to me. “A wedding ring. The engravings show it was made in London in 1941.”
I studied the circle of gold, and wondered about the human story behind it. How many people had worn this ring, and why was it left behind when London was abandoned? Surely someone leaving Earth could have taken something so small with them. Perhaps it had belonged to a dead relative, and they felt it was more appropriate for it to stay on this world.
“Your students found this ring?” I asked. “Could I help find something like this myself one day?”
Lecturer Playdon nodded. “You could.”
I handed the ring back to him. “That would be an amazing experience. I realize we’re interrupting your work, and we shouldn’t keep you from your class any longer, but I’m very grateful to you for meeting us. It’s been truly fascinate!”
“I’m always happy to assist a student with a genuine interest in history.” Lecturer Playdon gestured back towards the portal. “I’m afraid I can’t leave visitors here alone. This spot is safe enough, but it’s still technically part of London Main Dig Site, so …”
I took one last look out across London, wondering if Jaipur was anything like this, and then Father and I turned to walk back to the portal. When we reached it, Father thanked Lecturer Playdon again, and then we portalled back to Earth Europe
Off-world. We started walking back towards the interstellar portals.
“I can’t believe I’ve never spared a few hours to visit Earth before,” said Father. “I wish we could stay for a day or two, but I have a series of meetings arranged in Beta sector. Fortunately, I have the impression you’ve already seen enough to make your decision, Dalmora.”
“Yes, Father,” I said. “I wish to apply to University Asgard and study pre-history here on Earth.”
“What you said about University Asgard’s offer … I’m proud of you, Dalmora. You showed true integrity.”
I felt myself blush. “Thank you, Father, but I would like you to make one special request to University Asgard on my behalf.”
“Yes?”
“University Asgard runs several Pre-history Foundation course classes,” I said. “If possible, I would like to join one run by Lecturer Playdon.”
Beta Sector 2788 - Lolia
Artemis, Beta sector, October 2788. Since I’m trying to avoid any spoilers for Earth Girl, there are only vague hints about one important detail in this story. People who’ve already read Earth Girl should know exactly what that detail is.
Part I
Last month, I’d celebrated my twenty-fourth birthday surrounded by smiling family and friends. Last week, I’d been happily dreaming of the future. Yesterday, I’d been part of a loving triad marriage.
Today, my dreams and my marriage had been shattered, and I was sitting alone in a room. Ten minutes ago, the older of my two husbands, Ardreath, had left, slamming the door behind him. My mind was still reeling, not so much from the way he’d slapped my face, but from his final, brutal words.
My great-uncle, Lolek, had often told me I was too emotional, and maybe he was right. My pain was as bad as if Ardreath had carved those words into my skin with a knife.
I couldn’t believe this was really happening. Ardreath couldn’t have said those things. Ardreath couldn’t have hit me. The only possible explanation was that I was having a horrible nightmare.
So I sat there, numbly staring at the closed door, willing my nightmare to end. When it did, when I woke up, I’d tell Ardreath and Lolmack about the ghastly dream I’d had. They’d hug me, and laugh at me for being so silly, and life would go back to normal.
A chiming sound made me jump. I turned to frown at the lookup I’d left lying on the table. It chimed again, and then a third time. I stood up, went over to pick it up, and saw Ardreath’s image flashing on the screen.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach even before I answered the call. Getting a call on my lookup was entirely too realistic for a dream.
Ardreath’s face appeared on the lookup screen, and he started talking in an icy voice. “Lolia, I’ve formally registered my divorce from our triad marriage. You should receive the official confirmation notice within the next day.”
“What?” I urgently shook my head. “You can’t do that, Ardreath. You can’t!”
His eyes weren’t looking at me, and he kept talking as if I hadn’t said a word. “I’ve withdrawn exactly one third of the funds from our joint credit account, and removed my name from the apartment tenancy agreement. Any future communications to me should be sent via my clan’s legal representatives.”
The call abruptly ended. I finally understood that it hadn’t been a proper call at all, but a recorded message. Ardreath hadn’t had the guts to look me in the eyes and say he’d divorced me.
“Nuke you!” I screamed at the blank screen of my lookup. “Nuke you!”
I stood there, shaking with anger for a moment, and then slumped back down in my chair. I couldn’t pretend this was just a bad dream any longer. Ardreath had divorced me, and Lolmack … Where the chaos was my other husband, Lolmack? He seemed to have vanished.
I tapped at my lookup to call Lolmack, then hesitated at the last moment. Our triad marriage was broken, so Lolmack would have to choose between me and Ardreath. If Lolmack blamed me for what had happened, took Ardreath’s side over this and divorced me too …
I was in no state to cope with yet another devastating blow, but I couldn’t bear sitting and waiting in uncertainty either. I gnawed my lower lip in indecision for a moment, before grimly going ahead and making the call. If Lolmack was dumping me too, then it was better to know it right away. Clinging to false hope would only make things harder in the end.
But Lolmack didn’t answer my call. I waited a minute, two minutes, then stabbed my lookup with my forefinger to cancel the call. There was no point in trying to force Lolmack to talk to me. The fact he wouldn’t even answer my call told me everything I needed to know.
I stared down at my clenched fists. I had to face up to what was happening. Ardreath had divorced me. Lolmack had disappeared and wouldn’t answer my calls, which meant he’d chosen Ardreath rather than me. I should have known he would. Ardreath and Lolmack had been lovers before I even met them. They were going to stay together now. They were going to blame everything on me, blank me out of their lives, and carry on together as if I’d never existed.
Painful memories of our wedding day came into my mind. The sound of our voices exchanging our vows. I’d been so quiet that I’d had to repeat some of the words because people couldn’t hear me the first time, and Ardreath had seemed surprisingly nervous too, while Lolmack was totally calm. Anyone would have thought that Lolmack was the one who was three years older than the other two of us, not Ardreath.
When Ardreath and Lolmack’s divorces were finalized, and both of them were legally free of me, there’d be another wedding, but this time it would be a duo marriage not a triad. I pictured them with their arms round each other, laughing happily, while I stood watching them, alone and bereft.
I winced at that image, and then a host of trivial secondary worries came flooding in. What about our furniture? What about the vid script Lolmack and I were in the middle of writing? What about …?
I felt sick thinking of the dozens of mundane things that would have to be done to disentangle my life from the lives of Ardreath and Lolmack, but at least I didn’t have to cope with them alone. There would be plenty of people to help me, because I was part of the sprawling extended family of a Betan clan.
It was true that my clan wasn’t important or historic. We were just a small clan cluster of the lowest social rank, which had been formed less than forty years ago by a group of clanless families. We didn’t live on one of the powerful Betan worlds like Zeus or Romulus either. Artemis had been great once, but had been hit by disaster over a century ago.
None of those things mattered. The key benefit of the clan culture of Betan worlds was that your clan would always be there to support you through any crisis. I only needed to call for help, and my clan would come to care for me.
I reached for my lookup. It was patterned with images of flowers, an incongruously frivolous thing to use to tell people dreadful news. I frowned at it, wondering who to call first, then realized the stupidity of making individual calls. Saying this once was going to be painful enough. I couldn’t force myself to repeat it over and over again.
I set my lookup to record a message. “Hello, everyone. I’m afraid I have b-b-b-bad news to …”
I broke off and bit my lip. I thought I’d broken myself of my stammer when I was a teenager, but it was back. I couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else, so I took the easy way out, summed up the nightmare of the last twenty-four hours in a text-only message of three brief sentences, and sent it to my whole clan.
An incoming call came barely three minutes later. I didn’t even look to see who was calling, just answered it, and was startled to see the rigidly autocratic face on my lookup. My great-uncle, Lolek, our head of clan!
“Great-uncle!” I said. “It’s very kind of you to call me yourself, but it really wasn’t necessary. I …”
He ignored that. “You have blood on your face, Lolia. What happened?”
I’d known my cheeks felt wet, but I’d assumed that was from my tears. I instinctively
touched my left cheek with my hand, and then studied my fingers. Yes, there was some blood among the tears.
“Ardreath slapped me,” I said. “He wears the latest fashion in chunky jewelled rings, and one of them must have scratched me. I didn’t notice or I’d have washed it off and …”
“No!” Lolek interrupted me. “Don’t touch your face. Don’t move. Don’t talk to anyone. We’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
He abruptly ended the call. I stared at my lookup in bewilderment. I hadn’t expected my great-uncle to call me himself, or to care about a simple scratch on my cheek. He’d said the words “we’ll be with you,” so he must mean he was coming to visit me himself. I hoped he’d only stay for a moment, and then leave my parents and friends to help me.
It shouldn’t take Lolek more than five minutes to go to our clan hall portal, dial the right code, step through, and walk the remaining short distance to my door. I tensely watched the time on my lookup, aware that I must look an awful mess after the way I’d been crying. I desperately wanted to wash my face, redo my makeup, and brush my hair, but Lolek had told me not to touch my face. Lolek could get very angry if his orders weren’t strictly obeyed.
It was much longer than I’d expected, nearly twenty minutes, before there was a soft chiming sound from the door. I stood up, and took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves. “Door command open.”
The door opened and I stared in confusion as people flooded into the room. Lolek was in the lead, but behind him weren’t my parents or the friends I’d expected. Instead, there were a couple of my older cousins carrying cases of vid equipment, and several strangers.
No, at second glance I saw these weren’t actual strangers. The two men and one woman might not be clan members, but I had seen them before. The woman was our clan doctor, one of the men belonged to the law firm we used, and the other was our clan image consultant.