Babel - Razjosh

Kaleem looked at his bed. It must have been a bad night. It didn’t usually look like that in the morning.  Normally, he would just have to straighten out the duvet. Today he would have to tell the house robot to change the sheets. Preferably before Louish Kennedy, his grandmother, saw it.

The room felt stuffy. He was covered in sweat. He needed to shower quickly and change into fresh clothes. It was almost as if the air control had not worked. The bed-clothes, too, were drenched in sweat.  

He pressed the button which would summon the robot.

The machine trundled in.

“Refresh bedding, sir?” it asked.

Elders alive, its sensors were good. Rather different form the one he and his mother used to have in their cave apartment.

“At once,” mumbled Kaleem.

What had caused him to sleep so untidily? He couldn’t think.

Then he started to remember the events of the previous evening. And Rozia.

Rozia! Oh, great elder, he fancied her.  

He remembered how he had behaved. How careful he’d been, and how he’d wanted to be anything but careful.

I bet she thinks I’m a virgin, he thought. But he wasn’t. No way! Not that he was any sort of stud either, and neither had he ever had any great romantic affair. But there had been a couple of times on Zandra, after just the right amount of frega and the right sort of girl, and the convenience of a suitably placed love-niche. All of that had been part of behaving normally, more than anything else. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the experience … and Zandrian  girls were, on the whole, uncomplicated. Well, maybe there’d been about six times, which was about twenty too few.

But it would have been wrong with Rozia. He’d known her too long and respected her too much. She was worth more than a quick fumble in a dark doorway.

The robot finished putting on the clean sheets.

“Would sir care for a bath?” it asked.

Kaleem considered for a minute. No, a shower would be fine. He dismissed the robot with a flick of his wrist and made his way into his bathroom.

As he stepped into his shower he remembered. It reminded him of the entrance to the tower. He’d had the dream again.

The children had greeted him as usual. He was no longer shocked by the wrinkled faces which turned to face him, and they no longer seemed to be excepting so much from him. And as he came towards the end of the dream, their faces changed into the ones which belonged to the children they should have been as he began to tell them stories. When he woke up, as always he’d forgotten stories he’d told, but he remembered that the children seemed to enjoy them.

He turned on the shower.

As the water cascaded over him, he remembered the tower falling. It, too, had felt like water rather than the bricks it had been made of. As it crashed down, the children began to chant.

He dried himself and touched the spot where Rozia had laid her bare hand on his skin the evening before. He realized with a shock, that the girl known as Panandra – or some such, because her name changed a little each time – had looked exactly like Rozia this time. The almond eyes were Rozia’s.

That explained his dishevelled night then. He’d been dreaming about the tower and he’d been dreaming about Rozia.

Rozia! He must call her up later today. Goodness, she’d really meant it about the Black Tulpen then. Oh, that had been tempting. But he wanted to take this one slowly. He wanted this one to mean something.

As he dressed he began to feel uneasy. That was the first time he’d had the dream that clearly since he got back from Zandra. They’d all spoken Terrestran English this time. And still that idea of the Babel Prophecy was nagging away at him. It was nonsense, surely? But then, why did he keep having that dream and that whole story which Marijam had told him about his conception and birth was bizarre. If it was true. There was still a strong possibility that she had imagined it all. Yet he was convinced that Nazaret was really his father.

Louish and Frazier Kennedy were already half way through breakfast when he joined them in the dining-room. This apartment was everything that the old cave apartment he used to share with Marijam was not. It had an impressive view across the Thames Harbour. All the materials were from the old world – real wood, real steel and real wool carpets. There was a linen tablecloth on the table. Every day there was a superb spread for breakfast. Louish Kennedy had never lost any of her glamour, and though her hair showed her age, it was long and shiny and its ash white colour suited her more than the normal Terrestran black. Frazier looked younger than he had two years ago when Kaleem had first met him and not known that he was his grandfather. Kaleem guessed it was because he had now been reconciled with Marijam. He had found his daughter again after she had been missing for nearly eighteen years.  Frazier Kennedy was an energetic sort of man anyway. He did not stand still for long.

“Kaleem!” cried Louish. “My, you do look serious. Come and sit down, and get stuck in.”

“Good night, was it?” asked Frazier, grinning. “You were quite late getting back.”

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Kaleem. “I hope I didn’t disturb you.” He’d generally got used to this sophisticated Head of educationbeing his grandfather and this really elegant but fun-loving woman being his grandmother. They were an odd match. Every now and then though he remembered how important his grandfather was. He didn’t dare annoy them. Despite everything he’s managed to do he dreaded being sent to live underground again.  He desperately wanted to fit in.

“No, you didn’t disturb us,” said Louish. “We’d only just got in ourselves.” A slight shadow passed across her face. “Only you will let us know if you’re going to be late, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course” said Kaleem. He really should have thought. They’d already lost one child. They didn’t want to go through that again. Only he’d been so free to come and go as he pleased when he’d lived on Zandra. Until he’d been put in prison, that was.

“It’s fine,” said Frazier. “A young man like you, with plenty of energy and not much work at the moment, you should be out enjoying yourself a bit.”

“How was the wake?” Kaleem remembered to ask.

“Good,” replied Frazier. “We gave him a good send off.”

“No better than he deserved,” said Louish. Tears were forming in her eyes. “He was a lovely man.”

“We’ll be putting in the nominations for the next elder of culture and education next week. Then the vote will take place in another five weeks, after the period of mourning finishes.”

“Oh, it’s nonsense,” cried Louish suddenly. “How can we be without an elder for so long? It’s not as if he just dies. We always know when they’re going to depart.”

“No worries!” exclaimed Frazier. “They have such a brilliant head of education, they’ll manage.”

Louish suddenly laughed. “Oh just listen to your grandfather, Kaleem. What shall we do with him? Now come, on, tuck in, we need to feed you up.”

She passed him the bowl of fruit salad and the jar of enriched yoghurt, while Frazier poured him some coffee.

Louish chattered on while Kaleem finished his breakfast. The sun was streaming in through the wide veriglass windows. It was putting them all in a good mood. Kaleem almost forgot to feel nervous about the visit he was expecting later that morning. Razjosh, the elder who had been his mentor throughout his training as Peace Child, was going to come and see him.

In fact, a few moments later he even forgot that Razjosh was coming at all. His grandmother was giving such an amusing account of some of the other visitors to the wake the evening before.

“Honestly,” she said. “He had some of the most peculiar friends.”  She suddenly put her hand in front of her mouth and giggled. “I suppose that means we must be peculiar as well.”

The communicator buzzed.

“Razjosh Elder wishes to be admitted,” chuntered the house robot.

“Go on,” Frazier said to Kaleem, “go and meet him in the drawing room. We’ll send in some more coffee and some pastries.”

Kaleem actually met Razjosh in the entrance hall. He was shocked by the elder’s appearance and how slowly he walked into the room. Kaleem had not seen him for a few weeks. Not, in fact, since they’d both come back to Terrestra. Razjosh had not even been to see him in a hologram. There had been no need. All the urgency had gone. Kaleem was just refreshing his knowledge of one or two of the more obscure languages. Even he wasn’t sure how much they were needed, but he actually now quite liked dabbling around with words and grammatical forms. And Razjosh had been busy, along with the other elders, getting ready for  Joshran Elder’s switch-off.

“I just thought it was time we touched base,” said Razjosh as they made themselves comfortable in the luxuriously furnished room. The comfisessels there actually had a form recognition function and made their way over to them. “See how you’re getting on.”

“I don’t feel as if I’m doing anything very important,” said Kaleem. “I’m just pottering about.”

“That’s fine,” said Razjosh. “You need some relaxation now. Another couple of months and there’ll probably be another challenge coming up. Everything is running smoothly now between Zandra and Terrestra, vis-à-vis acorns and vaccine. The trees are beginning to grow again on Zandra. You should go and see them …” Razjosh paused. “Aren’t you going to see Nazaret and Marijam again soon?”     

Kaleem shrugged. He supposed he ought to. But the truth was he felt a bit in the way. His mother and father were behaving like teenagers. He was the one who was being serious. And he couldn’t quite feel comfortable around his father yet. No, he was happy enough getting to know his grandparents. Besides, there was Rozia now.

“Mm,” said the Elder. “I see not. Maybe the next step is to get Terrestra to trade with Zandra for other items. Or even with another planet. But perhaps we don’t need a full blown Peace Child for that. Another type of negotiator might do. Now that you’ve got us this far.“ He looked thoughtfully at Kaleem. “The next problem could be closer to home.”

Kaleem had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’ll leave you to work that out for yourself,” replied Razjosh. “Only when you realize will you be ready to do what’s needed. And also we ought to try to get down to what that prophecy is all about.”

“Do you think there’s something in it, then?” asked Kaleem.

“Not so much that,” replied Razjosh, “as how your mother became mixed up in an interpretation of it. Whether everything she told us did happen, or whether she imagined it all while she was asleep.”

That again, then!  This was just not going to go away. It was impossible – and yet ….  His whole birth had been odd. Conceived despite the Stopes programme and pushed out into the world the same way some wild animals were born. If you believed Marijam. No, that was not fair. He didn’t think she’d made it up. She really did think that had happened. But maybe it was just what she had imagined while she was in that coma. And if it wasn’t true, he was almost back to square one. He knew who is father was, that was for sure, but he had no idea what had happened after his conception.

Also, there was that strange movie clip he had seen that time, all about the Babel prophecy.

“Well, I’ll leave you to think about that,” said Razjosh, getting up form the comfisessel with some difficulty. He winced as if in pain. “Let me know when you understand what I’m talking about.” He moved himself a little nearer to Kaleem and put his hand on Kaleem’s shoulder.

“Only don’t leave it too long,” he said. “My switch-off is scheduled for six months from now.”

The shock jerked through Kaleem. The blood seemed to rush to his head and he could hear his heart thudding in his ears.

“Don’t look so alarmed,” said Razjosh. “It comes to us all. It’s the price we pay for the exceedingly pleasant life we have on this planet.”

Kaleem was so stunned he could not even say good-bye to Razjosh. He sat in the drawing room, trying to get his thoughts together. In six months’ time there would be no more Razjosh. Yet that man was strong and healthy and still had so much to show others. Ben Alki – or someone like him - would have to perform that terrible ceremony. Well, it wouldn’t be Ben Alki who actually murdered Razjosh – yes that was the word for it – murder. A medic would give him the reposant, the fatal injections which would send him into a sleep from which he would not wake. Someone else would press the button which would make the lasers sanitise the lifeless remains and the mulchers would reduce it to nutritious pulp. Then Ben Alki would have to say words of reassurance to the people left behind before someone else came in and took the stage and told the whole world what a great man Razjosh had been. No doubt he would be involved in the celebration of Razjosh’s life in the after-ceremony. Would Razjosh pull as many crowds as Joshran Elder had? Perhaps because of his involvement in Kaleem’s mission to Zandra they’d do something grand. But he wasn’t as popular as Joshran, though Kaleem knew he was just as great.

Just six months, then, to get ready for that awful ceremony. He would definitely be invited to the actual switch-off. Razjosh had already told him that. It would be terrible watching the life go out of the old man. It would be bad watching that happen to anyone, even a stranger. And it would bring memories back of his mother lying in a coma for all those months.

But Razjosh! What would he do without Razjosh? Who could he ask when there was something he did not understand about a new culture he was getting to know? Or who would advise him when he had to go on another mission, do some delicate negotiating on behalf of Terrestra? Besides, he actually liked the old man.

There would be no-one. Kaleem would take Razjosh’s place. Oh, he wouldn’t be an elder yet and all that that entailed. Not for another forty years or more. The Peace Child Elder was selected ages before he could become an elder. But one day, sure enough, he would have to leave behind his friends and family, again, and go and live with the other elders in the Citadel.

Kaleem clutched the edge of his comfisessel. His fingers ached with the effort and his forehead was covered in sweat. The nausea he had felt in the park the day before came back. There was a weight that was almost a pain in his chest. Perhaps it would be a relief to throw up, but he wouldn’t dare, not all over his grandmother’s elegant furnishings. Louish Kennedy was as fond of her home as she was of her clothes. He considered whether he should ask the dataserve to arrange a drink for him of plain water perhaps – or whether he could make it in time to a bathroom or a diastic monitor. He wanted to spit this weight out of himself, but perhaps the work with the pressure points was the surest option. 

Within seconds of pushing on his right wrist with the fingers from his left hand the weight began to ease. He took a deep breath and began to feel calmer. The physical symptoms were subsiding gradually. Something else was taking over now. A really deep sadness he had never felt before. Deeper that what he had felt when he heard of Tulla’s and Petro’s attachment.

He was just changing wrists and taking another deep breath when the door to the drawing-room swished open.

“Razjosh gone already?” asked Louish. “I was going to ask him to stay to dinner?”

“Well, I expect he’d like to,” answered Kaleem. He was surprised at how normal his voice sounded. “If not tonight, some other time.”

It all made sense now, the way Razjosh had not contacted him and didn’t seem to have any plans. He had certainly been taking it a bit easier since they’d got back to Terrestra. He would never have accepted social invitations like that before. He was always much too busy. But now it looked as if he was taking every opportunity to make the most of what life he had left.  In a way, it was almost as if he’d given up, that he was just waiting to die.

“Hey,” said Louish, sitting herself down in the comfisessel which Razjosh had left a few minutes before. “What’s the matter? You look as pale as a proper Terrestran.” 

“He was talking about his switch-off,” Kaleem managed to whisper. This time his voice was high and hoarse. The heaviness had come back, but he knew he was not going to be sick. Something equally humiliating was about to happen. He could not help himself. A loud sob escaped him though he did his best to keep it back. Neither could he stop the two tears which rolled down his cheeks.

Louish was on her feet in seconds and pulling Kaleem and his comnfisesel towards her until his head was level with he shoulders.

“Sweetie, oh sweetie,” she said, pushing his head down on to her shoulder. “I know. I know. It is so hard. The first time you have to face a switch-off. And Razjosh must have been so good to you, especially when Nazaret and Frazier weren’t there for you.” She ruffled his hair.

It was as if he’d been floating away, out of control, and somehow she had reattached him to the ground. Her perfume was strong and comforting, filling his head and pushing away the tears. The urge to sob slowly faded. She just let him stay there for a few minutes, her soft, strong arms stopping him from falling. 

“But listen,” she said after a while. She pushed him back and held him by the shoulders. “It’s all right to grieve and it’s all right to start now,” she continued. She wagged her finger at him. “Don’t you be ashamed of those tears. It’s also all right for a man to cry. But also remember that one day the sadness will go and you will know that it was just a great thing that that you knew him so well.”

Kaleem took another deep breath. He knew that his grandmother was right.

“Life goes on,” she said. A suggestion of a smile came into her eyes. “I’d actually come to tell you some more news. You’ve got another visitor, you see.”

Kaleem frowned. Who else on Terrestra would be visiting him at this time of day?

“But maybe I’d better tell her to go away and come again another day. When you’re a bit more robust.”

She... Could it be … really, could it be Rozia?

“Very nice young lady, if you ask me,” Louish was now grinning properly. “Does the name Rozia Laurence mean anything to you?”

Another feeling replaced the heaviness in his chest. His heart was beginning to beat quite fast. He could feel the colour coming back into his cheeks.

“Look, I can send her away,” said his grandmother, suddenly becoming serious again. “Tell her you’re not feeling too good.”

“No,” Kaleem said. He sighed. “I want to see her. I’d better see her. Now.”

He thought he may have come across as not interested last night. He daren’t send her away. But he did have to get this right, exactly right. She was too precious. He just could not make a mess of it this time. No way.

“You’re sure?” asked his grandmother.

Kaleem nodded. He followed Louish out of the drawing room.

She was there, waiting for him in the entrance hall. Louish nodded to them both and went into the main sitting room. She winked at Kaleem as she left and closed the door behind her.

“Hi, Rozia,” Kaleem managed to say. He leant forward and took her hand. A tingle of excitement shot up his arm.

She was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. A little pink came into her pale cheeks. She smiled without showing her teeth. The features on her face were so tiny and perfect. Her fine black hair shone. He so wanted to protect her and pull her to him and love her to bits.

He must be so careful. He must take this slowly. He must not spoil things.

Rozia squeezed his hand.

“Hi Kaleem,” she said, giggling prettily as the two pink spots became larger and redder.