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  We exchanged silent looks, since Canto and Laki had that reputation in the roundroom anyway.

  By that time we were very tired, but we had to go back to the dining room to prepare for dinner. This meal was even more formal and elaborate than lunch. Again we watched through the peepholes. Laki seemed jittery and made several mistakes even we noticed, but it covered for them skillfully. Afterwards, when we were all gathered in the bland-run, it broke down in tears. “I’m rotten at this,” it said. “I’m never going to learn.”

  Since Laki seemed like a complete perfectionist to us, we couldn’t believe a word it said. Canto said sympathetically, “I’m sorry,” as if it were the one at fault, and tried to put an arm around Laki’s shoulders. Laki twisted away from the touch. With a fierce effort at control, Laki wiped the tears from its face and turned to Mallow and me. “Come on,” it said, “I’ll show you how to prepare the bedrooms.”

  So it was back to the humans’ quarters to lay out the nightclothes, replenish the contraceptives and sexual aids, turn down the covers, and sprinkle scented water on the sheets.

  We got down to refectory late, but the kitchen staff still had some leftover bean soup for us to eat. We sat at a table together in the empty room. I missed the noisy camaraderie of the other blands. I had not yet realized that a Personal is caught in the crack between the two worlds—spending its life with humans but never being one of them, isolated from the other blands but never able to escape them.

  By the time I had repaired my uniform and gotten to the roundroom, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep at once. And yet, I had scarcely closed my eyes (as it seemed) when Laki was shaking me awake, whispering, “We’ve got to get up for grooming.”

  And so my new routine started—up before the humans so we would be ready with their drawn baths, scented oils, and heated towels. Then on to serve the meals, care for the clothes, and run whatever errands they sent us on. Our days didn’t end till the humans were asleep. In the moments between our duties, Supervisor Mondragone drilled us in poise and bearing, and taught us how to talk politely and address humans with their myriad of titles. We learned the intricacies of ordering the courses of a meal, and presenting the dishes with artistry and taste. As we grew more advanced, we were permitted to help the humans dress, shave them, and arrange their hair and cosmetics. We learned manicure, pedicure, and massage. We learned how to pack clothes for travel. We even learned how to care for our guardians when they were sick—remedies for diarrhea, gas, colds, headaches, and heartburn. “Your guardians will be indispensable people to their communities,” the supervisors told us. “They are too busy to take care of themselves, so you must do it for them.”

  There were a lot of “nevers” to learn. Never talk about your guardian’s habits or gossip to the other blands. Never take a message. Never listen to conversations that don’t concern you—but do listen in case anyone expresses a need or desire. Never tell another human what your guardian wants, but do tell the other blands—often.

  They taught us to watch our guardian (and our guardian’s guests) carefully, to interpret their gestures, tone, and body language, always thinking: Is he cold? Is she thirsty? Do they want anything? Can I be helpful?

  I had been at Brice’s three months when we hosted a dinner for clients. From the excitement of the older blands I knew how important an event this was. “This is our opportunity to impress people,” Laki explained. “The better we perform, the better guardian we’ll get.”

  Supervisor Mondragone was also keyed up. “We’re going to have a guest list of forty this year,” he said, watching us severely. “You are all going to be on duty that night. Besides Canto and Laki, two of you are going to have to serve.”

  “Tedla and Mallow can do it, sir,” Laki volunteered. My heart gave a frightened leap, but I kept my eyes cast down and my face blank, as I had been taught.

  Supervisor Mondragone stopped in front of me and said, “Tedla?” That was my cue to look up. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” I said.

  “Well, we’ll test you. Tonight, you two will serve dinner.”

  It was a complete disaster. At the outset Mallow got rattled and poured the wine into the water glasses. Coming after with the molded ice and water, I had no choice but to put it in the wine glasses. Supervisor Mondragone glared at us, but we pretended as if nothing were amiss. Then I dropped the roll basket and half of them ended up under the table, so that the humans were kicking them to and fro, and I had to scramble around on the floor picking up the rest. By then we were so flustered we served the salad on the fruit plates and completely forgot to brew the coffee; the humans had to sit drumming their fingers waiting for it.

  When I got into the bland-run afterwards, the other newbies were whooping in laughter at our mistakes. I was angry and frustrated. Canto said to me, “Look on the bright side. At least no one ended up with food in their lap.”

  Laki was not so philosophical. “Now I’ll catch it. I was supposed to have taught you two. You were supposed to know how to do this.”

  I thought my chances of being allowed to serve at the great dinner were over; but the next morning Supervisor Mondragone said to us, “Well, you can only improve. At least you kept your composure; that was the important thing.” Our only punishment was to be assigned to serve every other dinner from then on, to get the practice.

  The preparations for the great day were elaborate. All the public areas were hung with garlands and strings of lights like fireflies, and every pane of glass and crystal bauble was polished. Aircars brought in huge crates of exotic foods, ice sculptures, and songbirds in cages. The kitchen was in a total panic, baking pastries, constructing fruit sculptures in aspic, and organizing their forces as if for a military campaign. We Personals got brand-new uniforms that fit so well I felt perfectly elegant. On the day of the dinner, an aircar imported a chamber orchestra of musicians. They were the only human servitors brought in; the whole point was to demonstrate the capabilities of Brice’s blands.

  Supervisor Mondragone gave us a serious lecture that afternoon. “You are the only blands the guests will actually see; remember you are representing everyone else. If the guests get a bad impression of you, they will have a bad impression of everyone, no matter how hard all the others have worked.”

  We also got a nervous lecture from Canto and Laki. “Do well for us,” Canto said. “This is our big chance to impress a guardian and get a good home. Don’t drop any rolls.” It had become a joke among us.

  It was a cold and misty evening outside, but inside, Brice’s was dazzling bright. The aircars landed and took off in a steady stream, whirring like huge bugs. Whisper and Trice were posted by the entrance, taking wraps. As the crowd collected in the reception room, Canto and Laki circulated with trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks; Mallow and I kept their trays stocked, and as the crowd grew we also circulated with bottles, replenishing glasses. The humans were brightly dressed; some wore community garb, but others were decked out in feathers and gold chains. They were so intent on each other, it was easy to feel invisible. I was careful not to look any of them in the face, or touch them. Once, a woman began to ask me for something, then gave a start. “Oh my god!” she exclaimed to her companion. “I thought it was human.” She gave a high-pitched laugh. I waited to see if she had a request, but now she was too embarrassed, so I melted away into the crowd to spare her feelings.

  When the music changed, announcing dinner, we hurried to open the doors for the crowd. The great dining hall looked opulent, the table so loaded with flower arrangements, crystal, silver, and porcelain that it was a wonder where the food would go. Under Supervisor Mondragone’s instructions we had divided the table into quarters, with Canto and Laki getting the most important people. Whisper and Trice carried in the trays of food that came up from the kitchen on carts, so the humans wouldn’t have to glimpse a kitchen bland.

  It all had to go like clockwork, and our biggest fear was that the kitchen
would hold us up, and make it necessary to stall. But the humans were so engrossed in their conversations they ate slower than we had planned, and we had to pass whispered instructions back to the kitchen to slow down. “This is a good sign,” Canto whispered. “It means they’re enjoying themselves.”

  I had one human who was getting slightly tipsy and talking too loud. “Hold back on his wine,” Laki whispered to me, “or the others won’t enjoy themselves. Give him his entree first.” I marveled that Laki had the presence of mind to notice my humans, when it had ten of its own to worry about.

  The most dangerous part of the meal, for us, lay at the dessert, when we had to dim the lights to show off a dramatic flaming brandy sauce by way of a climax. My hands felt slippery with nerves as we lined up along the sideboard, watching each other for perfect timing. Laki hit the lights; then, as the conversation stilled, we all simultaneously lit our dishes and lifted them above our heads, the blue flames lighting our way to the table amid a smattering of applause. Whisper brought the lights up again, we served, and I knew the worst was over. Afterwards, the humans adjourned to the lounge for liqueurs, and our supervisors got busy striking bargains and soliciting business.

  It was past midnight when we got back downstairs, but all the blands were still working on cleanup, and the mood was excited. They gathered round us at the refectory tables to hear our account of what the guests looked like, what they wore, what had happened. We celebrated by eating leftovers.

  That night as I fell asleep with half a dozen other blands pressed close to me, I felt a brimming warmth for them all. We were a good team. We had accomplished a performance even a human might take pride in. I knew I could trust every one of the others around me. I was no longer sorry to be a bland.

  ***

  Three days later, the senior class started to leave. Laki actually looked happy for the first time since I had seen it; it had snagged a place in the household of the Polygrave, one of the most powerful humans in the world. It would be living at Magnus Convergence, the very center of all power. I was happy for it, but sorry to see Laki and Canto go. “We’ll miss you,” I said.

  Laki hugged me. “You’ll be a good Personal, Tedla,” it said. “Don’t let things discourage you here.” I smiled at Laki’s pessimism. We saw them off with a big roundroom celebration.

  ***

  Val interrupted. “Were they sold?”

  “No, of course not,” Tedla said, looking slightly shocked. “That would be slavery.”

  Val was taken aback. “Well, isn’t that what you’re describing?”

  Tedla looked very troubled. “We weren’t slaves. Neuters are never traded for money. Brice’s was compensated for having trained us, of course—otherwise it couldn’t have stayed in business. But it was the training being purchased, not us.”

  “Seems like a pretty fine distinction to me. Are neuters ever paid for their work?”

  “No,” Tedla said slowly. “But neither are humans. They’re compensated in housing, food, clothing, and community, just like we are. Oh, humans may get a little pocket money from time to time. But a clever bland who wants money can steal more than the average human can earn. There are a lot of thieving blands. Not at Brice’s, of course.”

  “Of course not,” Val said.

  ***

  There was more work for us after Canto and Laki were gone, since we had to take over their duties. The four of us were now assigned each to take care of a particular human. We would rotate monthly, they said, to give us wider experience. When I was assigned to Supervisor Mondragone, I knew I was going to have to be letter-perfect every day.

  He was very particular about dressing for dinner, and always required my help. I was nervous at first, knowing he would be watching my performance. But I grew used to his habits, and found I could usually anticipate what he would want. One day, as I was fastening his collar with a golden stickpin, he put his hands on my shoulders, looked at me seriously, and said, “You are doing well, Tedla. I’m very pleased with you.”

  It had been a long time—since I was at the creche, really—since a human being had praised me, or even spoken to me as if I were an individual. I felt a rush of pleasure and gratitude quite out of proportion to what he had said, and I think I must have blushed. He patted my shoulder. “Think of me as your friend, all right?”

  Of all the humans, Supervisor Mondragone was the last one I would have expected to show any friendship toward a bland. I realized that humans were more complex than I had imagined. I went to serve dinner that night with a warm feeling inside me.

  When others were around, Mondragone’s manner remained strict and aloof; but when we were alone, he paid a lot of attention to me. He told me things about himself, and asked me questions. One day he ran his fingers through my hair and told me not to let the others cut it, because it was so beautiful. I always left his quarters feeling a cut above the other blands. Of course, I didn’t say anything to them because I thought they would be jealous.

  ***

  Tedla paused, looking indecisive. “There is something about me I have to mention, because it explains a lot of what happened.”

  “What?” Val said.

  It looked down uncomfortably. “When I was young, I was quite attractive. You scarcely have a non-gendered word to say that. I’m not trying to boast; it was just a fact.”

  “Stop apologizing, Tedla,” Val said. “I think I would have figured it out anyway. Most people would be happy to have your looks.”

  The neuter glanced at her fearfully, then down. “I hate them. There are times when I’ve wished I were malformed.”

  “Why?” Val said.

  The neuter twined its hands indecisively. “Oh, humans can make use of looks to charm or manipulate each other, to get good mates or other things they want from the promise of sex. But what use are looks to me? It’s like a stupid joke, a promise I can never make good on. My looks can only infuriate and disappoint people, and bring harm to me.

  “Harm?” Val said seriously.

  ***

  Slowly, by almost imperceptible degrees, Supervisor Mondragone’s manner toward me changed. One day when he came out of his bath he asked me to dry him with the heated towel I had prepared. After several seconds he caught my hands in his and said, “Tedla, do you want me to like you?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. And I really did.

  “Then do something for me,” he said. “Touch me right here. It will give me great pleasure.”

  He showed me what to do. I had seen him get an erection before, but I was so innocent I had only the haziest notion what it meant. This time he led me through it till he achieved satisfaction; then he took me in his arms and kissed me on the lips. “I love you, Tedla,” he said. “You must not tell anyone. Do you promise?”

  To be perfectly honest, I was merely puzzled about it at first. It was just another thing I had learned to do for a human, not that different from backrubs or shaving or cosmetics. The only thing that made me uneasy was the way it changed my supervisor. He grew very affectionate, and went out of his way to touch me and kiss me whenever he could. It was not unpleasant, merely out of character. It was the first inkling I had of how sexual desire can change a human’s personality.

  After that, it became a daily thing, always just before dinner. He taught me many techniques—the use of oils, massage, and various tools; ways to prolong his orgasm; how to recognize when he was ready, and what he was ready for. “Learn this well, and your guardian will always love you,” he said to me. “You’ll never be treated like other blands.”

  At first, he taught me only hand techniques; but soon he started to ask me to do things with my mouth and tongue, and I had to hide my disgust a little. Then one day when he was lying on the marble slab in the bathroom that we used for massages and body shaves, he reached up to touch my cheek and said, “Can’t you take off that uniform? I would love to see your body.”

  On Gammadis we don’t have the nudity taboos you have here on Capella�
�especially not neuters, who have nothing to hide from one another. Even so, I hesitated because it seemed so counter to all the ways we were being taught to behave in public, and I was confused. Nudity was for the closeness of the roundroom. Among humans, we were supposed to keep aloof, our identity hidden behind layers and layers of clothes.

  But he sat up and began removing my clothes himself, slowly, as if it were a ritual. When I was completely naked, he ran his hands over my skin, then pulled me close to him, between his spread legs as he sat on the counter, so that I could feel his sex organs pressed against me. “Ah, Tedla, you can’t imagine how much this means to me,” he said.

  It was true, I couldn’t imagine. I could tell from the beginning that he wanted me to feel some sort of reciprocal passion toward him, but it was impossible. We simply aren’t capable of sexual arousal. At first I had enjoyed his caresses, because I thought they meant affection for me. I still wanted to believe that. But I had begun to feel horrible doubts that this was about me at all.

  ***

  Tedla paused for a long time. “Sex has no meaning to us, but we don’t live in a nonsexual world. We live among you, and by your rules. We have to think about your sexuality all the time.”

  Trying to keep her voice neutral, Val said, “That doesn’t seem quite fair.”

  Looking at its hands, Tedla said, “It’s inevitable. Some humans—maybe all—are actually attracted by asexuals. Even your standards of beauty tend to be androgynous. I don’t know why it is—the ambiguity of identity, perhaps, or the novelty of a transgender experience. Then there are people who are attracted to anything dangerous.”

  “What is dangerous about it?” Val asked.

  “On Gammadis, sexual encounters with neuters are absolutely forbidden,” Tedla said. “The idea is horrible, shameful, disgusting. Anyone found molesting a neuter would be ostracized, and penalized by the harshest laws we have.”