Yeovil Literary Prize
2008

Final Judging - Novel Category
Title: The Ash Zone
Reference: 11/EC03073/C001607/Z016
Decision:

  
  
Comments:

 

      

                                   The Ash Zone  Synopsis 
   
                                                                    Dystopian novel: 104,000 words

Britain, 2130: eighty years since a volcanic eruption covered two-thirds of the country in ash, making it uninhabitable and erasing all records. With help from the East, a small State has survived. At the May Day Festival, scientist ANNA LIN and her husband LEE meet Anna֒s school friend NINA CHEN, a senior archaeologist, and her husband DAN. They see a male protester being dragged away. 
     An injustice in her past has blighted Annas career. Now in the last year of her rehabilitation, she is working in the Archive Laboratory, where she and her supervisor, HAN FENG, are making artefacts for an exhibition, ґReclaiming the Past for the Future, part of the StateҒs drive to re-write its history. Annas work is a secret, even from Lee, who is carrying their first daughter: womenҒs wombs disappeared generations ago, along with their memory of being mothers. Men, oppressed and kept in the minority, are responsible for reproduction  ֑Just A Procedure Җ brutally enforced by the State. The system is maintained by brainwashing and terror. 
     Anna is disturbed by dreams of dark water. At home, she finds medicine to induce an abortion. Lee denies knowledge of it, but tells Anna the men are fighting for equality, and asks her to join them. She refuses. He leaves, to live in Olympic Park, the ghetto for single fathers and their children. 
     Nina is leading the high security Dig in the Ash Zone. When she unearths bones, she calls on Annas forensic expertise. Anna identifies and recreates a childҒs skeleton, which Nina plans to display in the exhibition. Updating the Dig map in the Lab, Anna finds at the riverђ written on the back. She suspects it was written by her former colleague, old woman YUAN, who was arrested and has disappeared. 
     Lee is caught up in a riot in Olympic. Anna bribes the concierge, LU HSIAO, to bring him home. One night, she wakes to hear Lee moaning in pain. He is rushed to hospital, where their child is born  a boy: a blow to their future hopes. 
     Anna and Nina meet, and Nina admits she was responsible for the incident which ruined Anna֒s career. A Franklin (DNA) test on the excavated bones shows the dead baby is male, and shares Annas DNA. Shattered, Anna visits her old colleague Yuan. Yuan reveals that she worked with AnnaҒs mother, SAN, who was a genetic freak: a carrier. She gave birth, and drowned the child at the river  a scene Anna witnessed as a toddler. San asked Yuan, then working in the Ash Zone, to bury the child֒s body; and wrote at the riverђ on the back of the map, as a clue to the truth about the State. Terrified that she had passed the gene to Anna, she took her own life. Yuan also hints that the experimentђ of reproduction isnt working Җ and urges Anna to work it out for yourselfђ.
     Anna tells Lee everything and they ask Han Feng to help. Feng shows Anna an old Chinese symbol but she cant read it. Feng replaces the baby skeleton with a wax replica; Anna and Lee re-bury the real bones at the river. The exhibition lights melt the replica and Nina is arrested for fraud.
     Anna is rehabilitated, and finds she has maternal feelings for her son. She and Lee join the men to spread the truth: that women once were mothers, and the State is founded on a brutal lie. 
     Anna finally understands the meaning of the symbol Feng showed her: old, and complicated, itҒs never seen in the State  it means ֑love.  

                                               1

The clang of metal on metal. Water running in the pipes. Voices calling. I opened my eyes. Grey light seeped through the blind. I leaned out of bed and felt on the rush matting for the clock. Five-thirty. I was about to slide out from under the blanket when I remembered Җ May Day. No wonder it was noisier than usual. Our neighbours in Perimeter Road Apartment Block Number Four were getting ready to go to the Festival.  
     I lay on my back, watching the walls grow pale and the outlines in the room lose their night-time strangeness. Waking in the small hours, confused and frightened, Id seen my worksuit slung over the chair and imagined a body, slumped and lifeless. After the first jolt IҒd let my thoughts run on, and pictured blood, stilled and thickening beneath cold skin: the process of decay beginning. The vision calmed me and I imagined the weight of a scalpel in my hand; felt my old enthusiasm for solving deaths puzzle. But just as quickly memory had returned, trailing its inevitable shame. Despair and anger washed over me, and IҒd struggled to get back to sleep. Now, in the strengthening light I stared at the old, crumpled garment, seeing in its worn fabric only the sham of my employment; wondering yet again when this punishment would end.   
     The smell of frying dough drifted in from the next apartment. Somewhere a pan fell on a concrete floor. I tensed, waiting for Lee to wake; but he stayed asleep, curled away from me, his breathing light and regular. Then I realised. It had happened at last. The first morning in three months that I hadnt woken to the sound of him retching into the bucket we kept by his side of the bed. 
     I turned on my side and pressed myself into him, feeling the warmth of his skin, smelling his early morning smell of sleep and sweat. Perhaps we really were over the worst. I reached round and, sure he was asleep, laid my hand on his belly where his t-shirt had ridden up. I moved my fingertips down. Fighting my queasiness I felt the old, horizontal scar; then the newer, neat incision, and the tiny ridges from the stitches. I held my breath, concentrating. I wasnҒt sure I wanted to feel anything. But I kept my hand still, my confidence growing. I thought I sensed a flutter; a beat. I waited. But it was just my imagination. We had a long way to go yet.  
 
                                               2

Here come the Festival Rogue Elements.ђ Lee was staring out of the bus window. 
     Against my better judgement I looked out. A truck had pulled alongside. Six grey-uniformed men stood in the back, heads bent, wrists tied with rope. The May Day prisoners: on their way to the execution ground. I cursed the truck drivers timing.  
     Lee turned to me. ґThatll mean a few less of us for Madam President to worry about.Ғ 
     Stop joking!ђ I hit his arm. Youђre not a Rogue Element. I said it loudly enough to be overheard.
     ґDo you really think they are? At least he dropped his voice.
     ґRead the placards, I said. His Mandarin was better than mine, and the signs hanging round the menҒs necks were clear: Murderer; Fraudster; Thief. 
     Theyђll have to stop killing us, or put the quota up, he whispered. 
     The population quota was one of LeeҒs favourite subjects. But the woman-to-man ratio had been fixed at two-to-one for years  the right level for Security and Stability, the government said.
     I found myself gazing at the prisoners. In the weak sunlight their treatment was clear: a ring of blood, crusted round a closed and swollen eye; a bruised, cut cheek, bones showing beneath. As I watched, the nearest man looked up, straight at me, and smiled. Most of his teeth had gone. His placard read Zhengfu Diren. State Enemy. The words had lost none of their power. I looked away quickly. The truck moved on.
     The bus driver leaned on the horn, cursing in street Mandarin. Through the open window came the relentless shriek of bicycle bells and the occasional shouted greeting. 
     Lee shifted in his seat and I wondered if he was uncomfortable. His clothes were still baggy on his slim frame but he clasped his hands over his belly, as if trying out the gesture. I should have felt reassured, but I sensed he wanted to draw attention to himself. Perhaps he hadn֒t seen the hostile looks when wed boarded: at least it was obvious he was with me. 
     PeopleҒs Park came into view and the passengers started to exclaim and chatter. The bus juddered to a halt at the park gates. We got up and began to push our way off.     

The same old shit,ђ Lee said. 
     The crowd jamming the park walkway had forced us to stop in front of a grey sand sculpture of two workers: one woman carried a shovel, the other a stethoscope. Their legs marched forward together, their worksuit jackets creased in synchronised movement.
     Art must serve the State,ђ he added.
     The woman beside me turned and spat, just missing his foot. 
     Letђs keep moving, I said. 
     We shuffled along. Dark worksuits pressed in around us. The next statue showed Comrade Franklin at her desk, head bent over a microscope. The sculptor had included a sheet of paper, showing the test that bore FranklinҒs name  the genetic information we carried all our lives. 
     I leaned forward to examine the detail. ֑Look. Theres even a stack of ID cards.Ғ 
     But whereђs the imagination? Lee said. ґYou know why people make statues like this? Extra work points. Better rations. He moved closer and whispered, ґAnd to remind us that someone, somewhere, knows everything about us. Before I could speak he muttered, ғDont tell me Җ If youђve done nothing wrong, youve got nothing to fear.Ғ 
     That was the presenterԒs sign-off on the Entertainment Channels weekly Security Report. 
     I shrugged. Perhaps his bad temper was a side-effect of the procedure. I made sure we kept moving past the sculpture on the other side of the walkway. IҒd seen it earlier: a man cradled a baby, and at his feet a toddler sat playing with bricks. The title of the piece was, The Most Important Job.ђ Women were standing round it, chatting and laughing.    
     Lee might despise the statues, but the grey sand forms with their intricate details were proof of something bigger. Wed survived. Every schoolgirl knew the story: the catastrophe of the ash fall, eighty years before, spewing across our small country Җ smothering the land to the north and making it uninhabitable; destroying records; destroying memories. After the wars, starvation, and drought, it must have felt like the final blow to our ancestors. Only by using our ingenuity  and with the help of our Foreign Friends ֖ had we come through. But we still felt the legacy. Our people often died young. And in winter, when winds blew from the north, public spaces echoed to the sound of coughing. In these short summer weeks, we still found gritty traces in the creases of our skin.  
     We stepped off the walkway onto the dried-up grass. Weak sun blessed us like an old memory. On the breeze came the smell of stir-fry, and my mouth watered. Wed left the apartment so early thereҒd been no time for breakfast, but as usual we were meeting my school friend Nina and her husband Dan  and Dan֒s picnics were legendary. Id waited at our meeting point by the park entrance, expecting to see Nina leading her family, striding ahead and issuing instructions, but in the crush weҒd missed each other. Absentmindedly I touched my ear, expecting to feel my phone earpiece  but of course I֒d left it at the lab. It was for work use only. 
     I scanned the park. The normally drab space had been transformed, no doubt by comrades in the early hours. Red paper lanterns hung from spindly branches like half-remembered fruit; strings of white and blue flags made do for blossom. At the start of the central avenue I glimpsed the Unknown Soldier: shed been dressed in a red cloak, with a bright green garland over her helmet. Nearby, in a patch of shade, a group of soldiers practised tҒai chi, green caps pulled low over their eyes. Small feet in black plimsolls described delicate arcs, as if the women were dancing in a dream.
     Lee had gone. 
     I looked round, but all I could see was the mass of spectators shuffling through the park. I set off the way wed been going, pushing through the crowd, but it was hopeless. I turned round and retraced my steps. Then I spotted him, crouched by the edge of the path, dark head bowed. For an instant I thought something had happened, but as I got nearer I realised he was examining a small statue. It was a monkey, its head cocked to one side as if it were listening. 
     ґI didnt know where you were,Ғ I said.
     This should win,ђ he said, without looking up. 
     Why? Because itђs a little extinct animal? They must have got a picture from a book.  
     ґNo  because it֒s not telling us what to think. 
     I glanced at the sign. The sculptor was a road sweeper. I hadnҒt realised men were eligible to enter.
     Come on.ђ I pulled him away.
     People jostled round us, smelling of beer and sweat. Random shouts erupted. In front of us, a gang of teenage girls started chanting, Itђs May Day! May Day! Wuyue jie! The crowd around the girls melted away, people wearing fixed smiles in the way we did, and the teenagers took over the space, yelling and shrieking. There were ten or more of them, wearing identical khaki leisure suits and sunglasses. They were pushing and shoving each other, throwing juggling balls around. I moved in front of Lee. Then the girls started wrestling each other to the ground. They were only playing. 
     We drifted towards the centre of the park, where a stage had been set up in the dip left by the first earthquake. We found a space towards the back of the audience Җ the front rows were reserved for Party officials. Being tall, I had a good view; Lee had to look between the shoulders of the people in front. Above and behind the stage, three large screens had been set up. Strung across the space, a banner urged us to Wholeheartedly Celebrate May Day Festival!ђ It was the same banner each year. Only the date changed  someone had stuck on a large square of paper saying 2130. 
     There was a drum roll and a small, blue-suited figure ran out of the wings, somersaulted and grabbed the microphone. I recognised the comedian from the Entertainment Channel. Her black plaits swung at her cheeks. She launched into a story about a newly-wed who went shopping for an anniversary dinner. He was tricked by a countrywoman into buying turnips covered in ash, and hit by his wife for his stupidity. The comrades in front clapped, their khaki arms and white-gloved hands moving in unison. The crowd roared. I didn֒t look at Lee.
     The comic moved smoothly onto her next joke, but the audience seemed distracted, buzzing and murmuring. I twisted round, but could see nothing. Lee stumbled forward. I turned, to see the woman behind us laughing. 
     Lee glowered at her. Got a problem?ђ
     She looked at me. Is he with you?ђ Her face was narrow and vicious. The light caught the Party medals on her jacket. He should behave himself.ђ
     I moved between them. It was a mistake, comrade.ђ 
     Her companion prodded my arm. Better watch out, little sister! He looks like trouble.ђ 
     The woman in front had been staring, and now she stepped back, deliberately, her elbow in Lees belly. 
     I grabbed his arm. Pulling him behind me, I ploughed through our neighbours, ignoring their swipes and shouted complaints. We emerged on the side of the main walkway.  
     He shook off my grip. ґWhats got into you?Ғ
     We can watch from up there.ђ I set off up the slope behind us, past groups of people walking down. 
     We found a space to sit on the dusty grass. He leaned back against a dying silver birch, its bark peeling in giant curls, and closed his eyes. I sat down next to him, nausea pushing at my throat. I hadnt expected this. I wasnҒt ready for it.
    That crowd feels strange,ђ I said.  
    Worried something might happen to me, comrade?ђ he said. Good to know youђre keeping your side of the bargain. 
     ґThen you keep yours, I said. 
     He sighed. ґI should stop making your life so hard. I was used to him taunting me with what he could get away with, in public. But he knew I wouldnҒt betray him. 
     I stretched out on my stomach. Lee shaded his eyes and stared down the hill. I guessed he was remembering the poster hed painted last year; imagining how this yearҒs might have looked. How he might have introduced a new element  birds, more trees, a building near the edge ֖ without drawing too much attention to the change, or to the artist. I had never allowed him to make any risky alterations. I knew the committee would notice. Surprisingly, for a man in his position, he underestimated those women. But he was careful to get the calligraphy right  his predecessor had disappeared after the wrong brush stroke turned praise into criticism. I was always relieved when the slip of paper came back, Committee Approved. Now those days were over. I had thought he would be glad. 
     Below us the audience clapped and laughed and the entertainer ran off, waving. There was a brief pause while women in security uniforms swarmed across the stage, checking the microphone, searching behind the scenes, connecting cables that criss-crossed the boards. The screens flickered into life, showing the Party slogan ֖ Your State Is Always Watching! Then the audience erupted into applause at the appearance of a small, stocky woman in a khaki jacket and trousers. She was immediately recognisable from the TV, and the posters plastered throughout the city. It was Mother of the State and Leader of the Peoples Party, President Jane Lo. She walked towards the microphone. The crowd fell silent.
     President LoҒs face was as impassive in real life as the one that stared at us from her TV broadcasts. Seeing her magnified, in triplicate, I was sure it was the president, and not a copywoman; although Nina said with a good one it was almost impossible to tell the difference.
     Madam President adjusted her green cap over her short black hair, and pushed up her black-rimmed glasses. Then her high, accentless voice swelled out. 
     Today we celebrate our Tradition and Story. We have Reclaimed our Past for the Future!ђ Raucous cheers threatened to swallow her words, and she gestured impatiently at the audience to be calm. We are firm but fair,ђ she said. The rules are simple і dont break them!Ғ Above the stage, her outsized eyes blinked behind thick glasses, her mouth moving out of time with the microphone. Women are peacemakers,ђ she continued. We have smashed the old ways!ђ 
     The familiar words floated out, over the rows of dark-suited comrades, up into the clouds above the park. The president waited while the applause faded. This year,ђ she went on, we have even let men і  
     An explosion. Something ragged, unformed. I looked round, but everything was the same: PeopleҒs Park, the audience, the president at the microphone. She started to speak again and the noise returned  louder. It was a human voice, shouting into a megaphone, by the sound of it. Whether in Mandarin or English I couldn֒t tell. A deep voice. We stood up to see. 
     He was running out of the audience, up the steps to the stage. Short, dressed in dark clothes. He was on the stage, shouting. I thought I heard the word for fathersђ before he screamed as Security fell on him. My gaze flicked between the screens, as if one might suddenly switch to the Gymnastics Channel, or go blank. But there it was, in triplicate: the writhing body, the jerking limbs. When he stopped flailing one woman knelt on his back, pinning his arms down, while another handcuffed him. Two others kicked his legs. Just then the sun cleared the clouds. In the bright light the scene was oddly sharp: the khaki uniforms; the shiny black of their boots; his dirty clothes.  
     The audience was silent, watching the beating unfold. But when the man was hauled from the stage a fierce hissing started up. The comrades at the front were shouting, but I couldnt hear the words. Someone nearby yelled, ґKill him! But that was just for show. We all knew he was more use if he could speak. 
     Lee moved closer to me. 
     ґLook what happens when you break the rules, I whispered. I realised I was clenching my fists, digging my nails into my palms.
     We watched as the man was dragged down the steps and into a waiting ambulance, which had appeared alongside the stage. Above it, the screens showed the empty boards, smeared with dark streaks; a shoe, and a smashed pair of glasses. 
     ґStupid poker! Hell get what he deserves,Ғ I said, loud enough to be overheard. But my heart was pounding. Lee glared at me. I imagined the argument we would have later. 
     Bell jangling, the ambulance pushed its way out of the park, the black cross on its rear doors disappearing as spectators closed in behind it, banging on the glass and screaming. I looked at my husband, expecting him to be as shaken as I was. But he was gazing after the vehicle, his face flushed with anger.  
 
                                                         3

Anna! Here you are.ђ 
     Ninas greeting sounded like an accusation. I turned round. She was climbing the slope to the side of us. 
     She strode over and kissed me hard on the cheek, her hair brushing my face. ґNi hao, lao pengyou! She smelled of cigarettes. 
     ґNi hao. I said. 
     She stood next to me, and I was aware of how different we must look. She was dark; I was fair. I was taller, but she seemed more defined, with her dark hair and eyes, her strong jaw and wide shoulders. My pale colouring and narrow build always made me feel washed-out by comparison.  
     ґSee the drama? she said. Without waiting for my reply she carried on, ґI saw it, real life. Not on the screen. 
     She would have been in the official seats, of course. I glanced down the hill. The arena had emptied. Crowds were milling across the paths and yellowing grass in the centre of the park. There was supposed to have been a lake there once, but it had long since dried up.   
     ґWhat did he want? Lee asked. 
     Nina flopped down on the grass between us. ґHow the hell did he get in? She fanned her face with her cap, eyebrows furrowing. ґHe must have been accompanied, she said. ґYoud think security would be tighter, no, at a family event?Ғ Her words rose and fell, excitement or agitation making her voice harsh. 
     People were coming and going with picnics and drinks. We always expected to be overheard, but Nina never doubted that anyone listening would agree with her.
     Shide.ђ I sat down next to her. Youђre right.
     ґWhat did he look like? Lee persisted. 
     She glanced at him. ґWhat?
     ґA father, or a youth?   
     She patted her jacket pockets for her cigarettes, found them and lit one, cupping her hand round the flame. She shook the match and dropped it on the grass, where it flared briefly. ґToo old for youth, she said.
     ґThats what I thought.Ғ Lee spoke quietly. I couldnt tell if she heard him.
     So the protester was a father. I was silent, thinking of the woman whose apartment would be ransacked, her possessions thrown around on the end of a bayonet. Her security status would be ramped up, her movements monitored. Her food rations, job and home would be at risk. As for the man҅ I was surprised how the incident had unnerved me. Id heard of such events, but only as stories, told and re-told over glasses of mao-tai until the kernel of truth had crumbled to dust. To see the physical reality of his jerky resistance, the struggling body being dragged to the ambulance, had made me feel sick.
     ґ Anna?Œ Nina was looking at me. 
     Youђre right. Security should have been better. 
     Just then Dan appeared with the kids: their two year-old, squirming in a pushchair, and the baby, strapped in a carrier across his chest. Dark rings of sweat bloomed on his khaki shirt, which strained at his belt. His round face was shiny with effort. He lifted the baby out and placed her on the grass. Despite the mild weather she was wrapped from the neck down in a tightly-wound red blanket and lay like a chrysalis, her face peeping out from under a shock of black hair. She seemed too startled by the change of position to make a sound. Dan unstrapped the toddler from her chair. As soon as she was freed, she circled our patch of grass, arms out, shrieking, a mechanical doll in her red padded jacket and trousers. 
     ґLulu  don֒t make yourself dizzy, he called, pushing his lank hair back from his forehead. 
     He found a picnic blanket, laid it under the tree, and passed Lee rice tins and paper bags from the back of the pushchair. The two men set out the food. 
     Nina lay back on the grass, her cap pulled over her eyes, one arm behind her head. She took a deep drag on her cigarette and blew a wobbly ring into the air. She crossed her feet in their black cotton shoes. 
     I pulled at dry grass stalks and tried weaving them into a twist. ґHows work?Ғ The question hung in the air between us, for a beat too long. 
     Good. Yes.ђ She pushed her cap back on her head and leaned up on one elbow. I told you about the new Dig, no?ђ She had mentioned a few weeks before that her latest project was high security and secret. She sat up and swivelled to face me, moving close. In the Ash Zone.ђ Her brown eyes watched my face.
     I couldnt hide my surprise. ґI thought it was inaccessible? 
     ґThe centre, sure. Were at the edge Җ in the south. 
     ґWhat are you looking for? 
     ґNever know until you find it, really. Maybe  remains of a settlement. Maybe coins, pottery.֒ She stared at me. Maybe bones, little sister.ђ  
     Maybe mud and stones.ђ I couldnt help myself.
     She gave me a sharp look. ґOkay.
     I glanced round, but no one was nearby. ґSurely nothing survived? 
     ґI just go where Im told Җ Reclaiming Our Past For The Future, remember? She nodded towards the stage. ґDidnt you hear Madam President?Ғ
     Her voice was flat and I felt guilty for puncturing her excitement. Shed always been less hesitant than me. Nina had planned our lives out twenty years before, when we were twelve, in our first year at Number One Science School. In the dormitory at night weҒd lain awake, unable to sleep with the newness of it all, and Id listened to my best friend whispering her plans. WeҒll be Top Drawer Scientists. She was always so sure. And then, before I could speak: Well work together all our lives. But it hadnҒt turned out that way. 

She funnelled cigarette smoke out of the corner of her mouth. Say what you like. But this site will produce big finds.ђ She leaned forward. I might even get you to і help.  
     Why did she have to remind me? ґYou know Im forbiddenҒ-
     But you were trained, no? And I choose who works on my Dig.ђ She stubbed her cigarette out on the grass. So і what are you working on at the moment, at the lab? She made it sound dusty and broken. 
     ґThe exhibition. 
     She paused. ґOh. Sure. Well, thats important, no?Ғ She pulled a sympathetic face. Mei you wenti. Letђs not talk about work. This is a holiday. 
     ґFoods ready,Ғ Dan called. His picnic was as good as usual. And Nina hadnt wasted the chance to display her superior food rations. We feasted on pickled eggs, crumbling biscuits and scented, sweet apples. I plunged my fingers into the sticky rice and balled it up, stuffing it into my mouth. At last my stomach felt full. 
     ґDan, you are the man, sighed Lee. He lay down in the shade and was soon asleep. 
     ґBaba! Baba! Lulu pestered until Dan promised her a walk. Lumbering to his feet, he planted the baby on NinaҒs lap  despite both their protests ֖ and grasping his daughters hand set off down the hill. I watched them go. When she spoke he bent down to hear her, and the sight was strangely affecting. 
     Nina held the baby upright and jiggled her, making her chubby limbs wobble. She talked to the child in a bored, sing-song voice. The baby struggled and started to cry. I wondered about asking to hold her, but Nina would immediately suspect something. Instead I moved away in case the kid was sick over my trousers. 
     Leaning against the tree, I closed my eyes and tried to relax, letting the stillness of the afternoon settle on me. There was never much time for stillness, in our State. But NinaҒs words pricked my brain. If she really meant what she said, if she needed my expertise, this could be my chance. I couldnt stop a feeling of hope. The ugliness of the dayҒs events melted away and I felt lucky just to be there, in the soft air, the grass dry and warm under my skin.  
     So, Anna.ђ Ninas voice sliced through my reverie. I kept my eyes closed. ґWhat have you got to tell me?
     ґTell you?  
     ґLee looks tired.
     ґWe had an early start.  
     ґHes not working today?Ғ
     Working?ђ Now I looked at her.
     Not making a sketch for the poster?ђ
     I held her gaze. He finished it, before you arrived.ђ Even Nina would draw the line at searching Lees pockets for proof.
     A red-necked crane approached, the breeze catching its tatty feathers and making the bird appear to shiver. IҒd been surprised to hear that a pair had been introduced to the park, but this one was too scrawny to make a meal. It bent its fragile neck to the ground and pecked at the crumbs from our picnic. Nina scooped the dregs from the nearest rice tin into the babys hand and helped her throw them. The grains scattered in a ragged arc, the movement startling the bird and making the baby cry. The crane recoiled briefly. But it was hungry. It came back and, forgetting its aloofness, attacked the food. 
     Our early start and my full stomach made me drowsy. I let sleep overtake me. 

It was late afternoon by the time I woke. I lay still for a moment, remembering where I was. There was no sign of Lee Җ he must have gone for a walk. I watched Nina and Dan from under my eyelids. Nina had moved away and was sitting cross-legged on the grass, eating an apple and reading Truth Daily. Dan had come back and was sitting across from her, feeding the baby with a bottle, and helping the toddler to do a wooden puzzle. The scene was so like the sculpture Id seen earlier that I wanted to laugh.  
     Nina looked up from her newspaper. ґWhat did you find out down there? she asked. 
     ґNo ones talking.Ғ  
     For an instant I didnt understand; then I remembered the man running onto the stage. 
     ґAiyaa! Mimi! Dan put the baby down on the blanket. Then he leaned across for a zippered bag and said, ґHe was from Olympic.
     I was suddenly wide awake. 
     ґOlympic? This time Nina kept her voice down. ґHow did he get out? Dan shrugged. Then she laughed. ґStupid poker. Hell get whatҒs coming to him now. Tade yinger chengwai nanhair!Ғ It was a common curse: may his baby be a boy. 
     Dan said nothing more. At least Olympic meant there was no woman involved. But security there was second to none. I pictured the dark interior of the ambulance; the fresh splatter of blood on its walls. If he was lucky hed get the needle, and then the Rehabilitation Centre. They knew the deal. It was spelled out on the wall hanging issued at birth to each citizen: You Get What You Deserve.  
     Lee appeared, carrying a paper bag and two bottles of red liquid. ґThe cha stall was too busy. I got juice instead, and moon cakes. He threw the paper bag to Dan, who took a cake and bit into it.  
     I heard them start to gather up the picnic things. I no longer wanted to listen: I wasnҒt sure what I might hear. I yawned theatrically and stretched, opening my eyes. Dan was fussing with a water bottle over Lulu, who was whinging in the pushchair. I exaggerated my movements and, picking up my jacket, started to roll up the rush mat.  
     Such a pointless thing.ђ Nina folded the picnic blanket. Seeing my blank expression, she explained. The protester. Apparently a father.ђ She stopped, hands on her hips. Doesnђt fatherhood keep them busy enough? Why cant they just get on with it?Ғ She laughed. Present company excepted of course.ђ Dan continued methodically collecting our debris, giving the pushchair an occasional rock. Nina carried on. Shall we complain about our jobs, Anna?ђ Her voice was loud under the trees. Youђre stuck in the lab all day, examining bones. Im out in all weathers, digging up relics. It must be wonderful to be looked after, relaxing at home with the kids, nothing else to think about but what to cook for dinner.Ғ
     I smiled. I know.ђ I glanced at Lee, who was stacking the empty rice tins. A manђs life is simple. 
     ґAnd Dan is so good at all that stuff. She threw a handful of grass stalks at her husband. ґYou really are the perfect man. 
     ґOnly you can make a compliment sound like an insult. He swiped the cap off her head. 
     If I hadnҒt heard their earlier muttered exchange, I might have been fooled by this performance. Dan knew exactly how far he could go. When they were first married Id been surprised at how openly Nina flaunted the agreement, humiliating him at every turn. He manoeuvred within the space she allowed him. I wondered where her baiting stopped.
     ґIts a shame youҒre so clumsy though, she said. ґShow Anna your bruise. She looked at me. ґIts spectacular.Ғ Dan was always walking into doors. 
     He shook his head. Iђd rather not.
     ґYoure so sensitive.Ғ She grabbed her cap back.
     Iђm just a man, my dear. 
     ґFortunately, Im not.Ғ Nina pulled her Lucky Ladies from her jacket pocket, slotted a cigarette into her mouth and lit it. I realised we were all waiting for her to speak again. She inhaled deeply then blew out the smoke with her words. So my life is dedicated to working for the good of the State. Same as my lifelong friend, Miss Anna Lin.ђ She paused. Lin. What does your name mean?ђ 
     I was sure she knew. DonӒt you remember? To confrontђ.
     ԑOh. Not that you do. She laughed. ґAnd ImҒ  
     ֓Chen. To sinkђ. That had always annoyed her at school. I kept my face straight.
     ԓNo. Not that one  different chen. ֑To take advantage of. Like Җ to grab an opportunity. She clawed at the air with both fists, then moved towards Dan and pinched his cheek. ԑAnd my husband  so well named. Dan dangao ֖ my little cake. Dan brushed her off, irritation on his soft features. Nina was always complaining that he had let himself go since the children were born. 
     I waited for her to turn to Lee, but he spoke first. ґBe careful, comrade. My name is Li  strength and power.֒ He made a joke of it, moving awkwardly and speaking like a bad actor, but there was no mistaking the message. 
     Nina made a deep bow and we all laughed.       
     I stared at the stage, empty as a picked pocket. The crowds were thinning. The Presidents disrupted speech felt as distant as a dream. Behind us the sun slid to the horizon, into the row of straight-backed poplars which marked the carriageway of the EmpressҒs palace. I wondered what the old warrior queens would think if they could see us here, modern women, future ghosts in their time zone. I stretched out my arms to feel the last of the warmth, but the air was cool. Soon the sun would be gone. In a few weeks, the ash clouds would start to drift back. 
     Dan lifted the baby and tried to fasten her into the carrier on his chest. As he struggled with her wriggling legs and the soft fabric, Lee went to help him, holding the child while Dan stretched the carrier into position. When Lee saw me watching he shrugged, his mouth a half-smile. 
     I shouldered the backpack and we set off in our little procession down the slope, following the crowds trailing back to the bus stop. We left the park and walked along the straight path under the trees, where the old women sat with their birdcages. One or two even had songbirds. In the distance, across the jumbled roof tops and destroyed buildings, the last rays of sun caught the characters on the face of Big Ben.   
 
                                                  4

I heard the Festival was good this year.ђ Han Feng passed me a femur coated in fine grey powder, its surface dull in the labs strip lighting. ґDid you go, comrade?
     I grasped the long bone, surprised as always by its lack of weight, and brushed the dust into the sink. ґOf course. I wouldnt miss it.Ғ 
     On the table at the side of the room, I laid the cleaned femur carefully next to a pelvis and tibia. The pale bones stood out against the dark wood. 
     Our day out had been only three days before, but it felt far removed from the world of work. Once wed left the park it had taken us hours to get home. Security must have closed the surrounding roads: bikes and buses were jammed in all directions. When at last we found our bus, Lee fell asleep in his seat but I stayed awake, straining to hear any whispered conversations. But there was nothing. I spent the journey rehearsing my argument for our inevitable row, but by the time we reached the flat the impulse had faded. It was more important to light the fire and make something to eat. Recently, those practical tasks had become more time-consuming. And what would we have said? The protesting father struck at the heart of our disagreements; at the balancing act between us. 
     That night IҒd fallen into bed exhausted and slept badly, my dream returning, as it always did when something disturbed me. It never varied: I was on the river bank, staring at the water, dark and unknowable. Under the surface something moved, pulling me forward. Sick with fear I approached, but before I could identify the object I woke, my heart pushing at my ribs.

Feng went to the air freshener unit on the wall and turned it to maximum. The machine cranked up to its jagged roar, loud enough to frustrate any eavesdroppers, and began to waft the smell of formaldehyde through the room. She came back to the sink and leaned in close. 
     The і incident, she said. She turned the tap full on, and the water hissed and bounced in the sink. ґEveryone was talking about it.
     ґWere they? I took a jug from the draining board and held it under the flow. There had been no report on the TV or radio. I wondered who ґeveryone was in FengҒs life.  
     A father, no?ђ
     From Olympic, I heard.ђ   
     She shook her head. What do they want now?ђ 
     We were silent, gauging how much to say. I turned off the tap. She made herself busy wiping down the draining board. Since shed arrived unexpectedly, six weeks before, as my new supervisor our conversation had covered the usual topics. We knew each otherҒs ages  she was fifty-six ֖ how much we earned; that we both owned a radio, but not a bicycle; how large our apartments were. Her daughter was at university. Id mentioned Lee.   
     ґMaybe theyre getting Җ stirred up. As I said the words I realised how unlikely that would be. 
     ґThat can never happen! Her face relaxed into a smile.
     We must both have had the same mental picture then: the images we saw on the News Channel. It was impossible to imagine those men, with their slow-motion movements, achieving any kind of action. I put the heavy jug down. ґYoure right.Ғ But I had to air the thought that pulsed in my head, echoing my difficulties with Lee; the possibilities that seemed to swirl between us now. What if some of them want to live outside?ђ 
     With kids? How?ђ
     I know.ђ Her certainty was a relief. And they have everything there.ђ It was always on the TV: Olympic had a park, plenty of space for the kids to play, activities for the fathers  and all their medication, on tap.  
      Feng went to the side table and peered at the skeleton diagram on the wall. I never offered to help her understand it. Cautiously, checking twice, she ticked another limb off the list. Soon the lower half would be complete. 
     ֑Why are they always complaining? They dont know how lucky they are.Ғ
     She sounded just like Nina. It was true: the men didnt appreciate the compromises we were forced to make. Lee envied me my interesting job and stimulating colleagues. He sometimes asked me questions. I answered or deflected some; for the rest, I just shook my head and said, ґHigh security. But I was surprised he never noticed there were no cuts on my fingers; no blood under my nails.
     We glanced up as the lights flickered. A power cut now would be disastrous: the new limbs, waiting to be worked on, were stacked in the corner. Our stockpiled candles filled the cupboard, but there was only so much we could do by candlelight. And in a power cut the lab was eerie: there were too many reminders of the dead and ways of dying. In a frame next to the air unit grinned a radiograph of a skull from a menial in his twenties, a jagged hole in the temple revealing the attack that killed him. At the end of the moulding table sat two bell jars: one empty, one containing the skeleton of a foetus, stillborn at six months. It crouched upright, its outsized head dipped forward. I looked away. Mistakes like that were rare. 
     I wiped my hands on my lab coat and went to the tall metal cabinet in the corner. Stacked inside, like the eggs of a giant insect, were fat paper sacks. With two hands I pulled one off the pile. Feeling my back twinge I half-dragged, half-carried the sack to the old mixer. I cut the top off the bag and tipped in the powder, holding my breath as a cloud of pale dust billowed up. As quickly as I could, I poured in water from the jug on the draining board. The mixer churned, its bubbling and sloshing drowning out any conversation. At last the light flashed red. I waited for the drum to stop, placed the old bucket underneath and pressed the button to open the flap. The grey liquid glooped out, hitting the metal with a wet slap. I struggled with the bucket across the floor to the moulding table under the window, where thin light showed at the glass. 
     Up here, on the top floor of the Archive, the windows were smaller. The panes fractured the view of rooftops and office blocks and, down on the street, the old woman selling Truth Daily. My previous supervisor, Yuan, often stood here watching her. Now, seeing the figure stacking newspapers on her stall, I remembered my colleague. I couldnҒt understand what had happened to her.
     Yuan had been nearing retirement. A thin, dark-eyed woman, she had apparently had a distinguished career in science. Unlike Feng, whose nosiness often got the better of her, Yuan never gossiped, and didnt reveal why she had been sent to the lab. But we shared the space amicably enough: until an odd incident, a few weeks after I arrived. She mentioned my surname Җ Lin  and asked about my mother: had she been a scientist? I said she had been a security guard at a bicycle factory, and died in an accident there; but this seemed to unsettle Yuan. After that, she withdrew into herself, and we barely spoke. 
     But I had my own burden. When we first met, I told her simply that my training was scientific. I said little as she detailed the lab equipment, although I recognised it all: the machine grinders, used to cut down bone for samples; the diamond-blade saws, which sliced thin sections from bones and teeth, for examination under a microscope. There were even long-handled branch cutters, for cutting ribs. 
     ֑Part of my job is to dust and oil the tools, to prevent them rusting, Yuan said in her quiet voice. 
     ґIm here to catalogue it all,Ғ I replied. 
     What a clever final punishment had been dreamed up for me! I began with the stationery cupboard, noting the contents in a large, heavy file. After that first day we never again discussed our work, perhaps as embarrassed as each other to be rolling out tasks until they were thin as pancakes on a griddle.  
     But Yuan became increasingly preoccupied. One Friday evening there was a bang on the door. When she opened it, two Security pushed past her. The shorter of the women demanded Yuans ID while the other, broad-shouldered and fair-haired, strolled round the lab, banging her cap on the surfaces, knocking over boxes and papers, picking up odd items of equipment Җ scissors, knives  and letting them drop to the floor. 
     Then she joined her colleague by Yuan֒s desk. What lies have you been writing, comrade?ђ 
     None, sister,ђ Yuan said.
     Never mothered, eh?ђ The woman prodded Yuans back. They had read her records. I stared at the page in front of me. The lines blurred.
     ґThe process didnt work for my man,Ғ Yuan said, not turning round. 
     ѓDidnt workҔ? It works for loyal comrades.Ғ The guard swept the papers off the desk. Then she called across to me. And you, little sister. Done your duty yet?ђ 
     My man has just had the procedure, comrade.ђ Id never been so pleased to speak. After months of arguments, Lee had finally given in.
     She turned back to Yuan. ґThis desk stinks, she said, swinging her cap back and forth until the peak hit the open pot of ink. It spread like a bloodstain across YuanҒs work. Your employment is terminated, comrade.ђ
     The two women pulled Yuan from her seat. The shorter one saw me watching. What are you looking at? Get on with your work.ђ
     I kept my head down. Yuan must have tried to get something from her desk: there was a scuffle and they flew into a frenzy, screaming that she had a bad attitude and should be more careful. Then they dragged her from the room. I heard them shouting in the corridor, and the sound of slapping. I sat, shaking, wondering what she could have done. But I knew better than to try to find out.

 Here.ђ Fengs rough hand was on mine, helping me lift the bucket and tip the liquid into the hollow limb moulds, where it would harden overnight. 
     Tomorrow weҒd prise out the perfect arms and legs, ready to be realised with paint. As long as there were no power cuts we would get all the limbs made, but clothing the models and making the accessories took time. And Feng was a perfectionist. In her neat characters shed plotted the weeks left on the calendar and the activity for each Җ modelling; painting; assembly  until October 1st, where she֒d written, in dark red, Past: Future. The official title was Reclaiming the Past for the Future і Celebrating the Achievements of our Glorious State, but that took up too much space. 
     There had never been an exhibition like it. The latest restricted circulation memo talked about the importance of the StateҒs heritage, and of setting archaeological evidence in context. President Lo was taking a personal interest: whenever she appeared on TV she repeated that it was the States duty to recover the past, and each citizenҒs duty to attend the exhibition. The billboards hadnt gone up yet, but when they did thereҒd be a rush for tickets. There wouldnt be enough. 
     If anyone noticed that a surprising number of artefacts had been preserved, or rescued from the ash, they would know better than to mention it.  
     I swung the empty bucket to the sink and ran the tap, sluicing away the slimy plaster. Icy water splashed my skin. It was always tempting to cup my hands under the flow and drink. But we knew it was treated. There had been well-publicised casualties.   
     Sitting at the workbench near the smoke hood, Feng was studying a picture book which had been prepared for us by the library. I peered over her shoulder at the open page. Early Twenty-First Century Soldiers, said the caption. 
    ґCan I see? I put my finger on the paper. IҒd always loved that picture. The four women were defending a water supply in the North. They crouched at the bottom of a rocky outcrop, clutching their rifles; along a higher ledge their commander lay on her belly, scanning the horizon. In the distance the blue oval of water sparkled between tree-covered hills. 
     There was no ash, anywhere.   
     There were no men in the illustration, although they had been allowed to fight. After the wars theyd returned to their previous status: lower-level jobs were open to them, but only until they had children. 
     For the first time, I wondered whether some memory of those fighting years must remain. It would explain why Lee was sometimes so unsettled. 

Feng pulled the book out from under my hand. ґI need to get on, tongzhi. 
     When she called me ґcomrade in her own tongue I knew she was in a good mood. I re-ran our conversation in my head: I had given nothing away. 
     She went to her side of the bench. Picking up a fine paintbrush, she waved it at me. ґIf you have nothing to do, get on with the medals. Then she bent to her task, humming as she worked.
     My job was to thread fabric loops through the eight metal discs Feng had made; then attach them, in a line, to the war heroineҒs jacket. It was straightforward, but this kind of work made me clumsy. 
     When the first medal slipped through the fabric and clattered to the workbench for the fourth time, Feng put her brush down with a sigh. She came round to me and took the needle and cloth from my hands. 
     I do this later,ђ she said. You sort out the limbs. Maybe you have the wrong skills, comrade?ђ 
     I was glad to get up. Feng went back to her painting. The air freshener unit rumbled into the silence. I took a breath. Did you imagine doing this, as a girl? Or when you were training?ђ I didnt know what her training was. 
     ґI always want to work for Archive. She spoke carefully, concentrating. ґObviously, I am prepared to do any work available. She stopped. ґI make costumes for the opera. I am lucky to get this job. And I love Tradition at school. 
     That was why sheҒd been sent here. The unfairness of my fate stung me again. Wouldnђt you prefer to work on real artefacts?
      ґComrade! She gave me a sharp look. ґThis will be real enough, to the exhibition visitors. She squeezed a worm cast of paint on to her palette and mixed it with a steel knife. She nodded towards the workbench, where the plaster bones were laid out. ґEspecially the skeleton. 
     The skeleton was to be the exhibitionҒs centrepiece. Feng was proud that her modelling and painting skills were going to be on public view. We hadnt yet received the display wording, but it would no doubt mention a war heroine, and excavation from a secret site; a ruined city, buried under the ash. There was no other way: the sites of the last big battles were inaccessible, and if any remains were found, they would be too degraded to use. That wouldnҒt make an uplifting exhibition. 
     I was in the mood to persist. Perhaps weђll get something from a Dig soon. The last package, before my time here, had turned out to be fragments of pottery and two coins. 
     ґThose things are not interesting enough for the exhibition, Feng said.
     The Dig map hung by the door. For security reasons it showed no locations or distances. The Digs were numbered in black ink, not in the order in which they were begun but in order of importance, which changed each time a new one was set up, or new evidence discovered. As part of the State rebuilding programme, time-limited Digs were often authorised in the excavations for new buildings. But because each find was documented and agreed by the Dig Committee, updating the map was a slow process. In the time IҒd been working in the lab, it had never altered.  
     Next to the Chinese numerals, someone  perhaps Yuan ֖ had inked in the discoveries from the sites. There was a glass bottle and some bottle tops from Dig Number Three; plastic beads from Dig Number Four; and pottery shards from Dig Number One. Dig Number Two had yielded a leather shoe once, but the date of the discovery was illegible. The archaeologists were security cleared to the highest level, and the digs were closed to visitors. But the map should be changed, to make Ninas project the new Dig Number One. I imagined her, huddled under icy clouds, surrounded by black mud, prising a corner of pottery from the ground. Perhaps this would be the big one Җ for both of us. But I had to forget I knew anything about it. 
     The plaster limbs were stacked neatly in the corner. As I picked a radius off the top of the pile a signal beeped in my earpiece, making me jump. 
     I glanced at the inside of my wrist. The display unit flashed. Along the Senderђ line appeared: L  E ֖ E. Then the message: R U busy? Can U talk? 
     I pressed the buttons quickly. Im dissecting, I signalled back. Is it urgent? I knew it wouldnҒt be. 
     There was a pause; then the signal changed, and through the ether came his voice; distant, and echoing slightly: I miss you. 
     My mind was blank. I couldnt risk a false step now. I pressed out my message: Sorry, canҒt talk.
     Feng looked up. Your і partner? 
     I nodded.
     ґHe like to find out about your work? She smiled. ґYou tell him about the exhibition?
     ґOf course not. She couldnҒt catch me out like that. 
     He will enjoy it.ђ It sounded like a command. 
     I tried to imagine Lee trailing round the glass-fronted cases of treasures we had made. While I was composing my answer, the bell sounded for a food break. 
     Feng was occupied with her efforts. Frowning, she supported her right hand with her left to keep the paintbrush steady, her tongue frozen between her lips as she painted blue veins onto a light brown arm. 
     I wanted to touch it. That looks real.ђ
     Of course, comrade.ђ She didnt look up.
     I stared at the plaster limb. Soon it would be part of a model soldier, displayed behind glass for citizens to enjoy: our Story and Tradition, brought to life. The arm was realistic. But the veins were flat and cold. They werenҒt warm; they didnt bulge. 
     Unlike the veins under LeeҒs skin, where another life pulsed and grew.  
 
                                                    5 

For the rest of the afternoon, as I sat at my desk painting a plaster arm pale tan, Lees message drifted in and out of my thoughts like smoke. He knew not to contact me at work. It was a sure sign he was bored, and his levels werenҒt right. I was disappointed: Id hoped this would be the start of a new phase for him. He could get used to being at home, and befriend other fathers Җ particularly Dan. And he could enjoy his art. No more official commissions  he could draw what he liked. But he was constantly tired and cranky, alternately demanding my attention and pushing me away. 
     Now I wished we weren֒t married. It was making me feel panicky. Three years ago, the State had been promoting the idea  the cost of maintaining men and their kids in Olympic was too high. Nina had talked me into it: she֒d said it would be another factor to help with my rehabilitation. She and Dan were doing it. As an incentive there were promises of extra rations, but they soon fizzled out. Things drifted back to how they were before. A few women lived with their men; most didnt bother, simply paying them an allowance. The men with no money ended up in Olympic. 
     But something kept me clinging to the notion of being married. Perhaps I thought it made me look loyal; perhaps I wanted to make a success of something. Perhaps I was trying to show Lee that I was proud of him Җ that I would be different from other mothers.
     Mother. Mama. Muqin. The word would soon apply to me. Weighty and important, it carried significance and social standing. By mothering a daughter  and another, in a couple of years ֖ I was doing my duty by the State. In return, the State would have to do right by me. 
     I held the arm steady with my left hand, coated my brush with pigment and stroked the fibres along the plaster. As the colour changed I imagined a heavy, cold arm under my fingers: instead of the brush in my hand, a scalpel, slicing through congealed veins. I could pretend the hum in the room was the drone of laboratory equipment, not the sound of the lights and the air conditioning unit, sending out the fake formaldehyde smell which clung to my clothes at the end of the day. 
     Perhaps Lee and I were as discontented, as unsettled, as each other. Or perhaps neither of us had come to terms with what had happened to him, over three months before. 
     That Monday in February we had eaten breakfast standing in the kitchen. Lees rice had an egg swirled into it Җ as specified on his instructions, taped to the fridge. The radio was broadcasting the six oclock food rationing update Җ something about a shipment of grain from the East. Outside, it was still dark. Not even the outline of the empty window box was visible. It would be months yet before Lu Hsiao, the concierge, planted the geraniums whose scarlet flowers signalled the summer weeks. Four floors below, the well of the courtyard was a black pit. The clinic was on the other side of the city. We had to be there at eight.
     Id always intended to go with him, although Nina had warned me not to. SheҒd been shocked I was even considering it. But I knew what to expect: Lee and I had watched it a few times on Fathers Hour. First you saw the man, in worksuit and cap, waiting in the hospital corridor. He chatted with other men and there was usually a close-up of his face: relaxed but obviously excited. The subtitled voiceover explained what was happening: while he waited, doctors retrieved his sperm, and the womanҒs eggs, from the freezer store. The first visit was for the implantation; then there was a follow-up, to check that it had worked. The last few shots showed the birth. Under the bank of lights the father-to-be slept, doctors moving purposefully around him. There was the glint of surgical steel. Then the baby, chubby and clean and yelling, was held up to the camera. At the end of the programme, the father and baby set off home. Occasionally, the mother was in the shot too. 
     The morning music came on. 
     Letђs go, Lee said. 
     He put his bowl down, and I saw heҒd barely eaten a mouthful. I touched his arm but he moved away. I put the bowl in the fridge to re-heat later. I wanted to say, This isnђt my fault, but the time for discussion was over.   
     We pulled our heavy coats off the hooks in the hallway. I grabbed a cap and my thick gloves. I locked the door behind us, suddenly aware that when we came back everything would be different. The corridor was gloomy, the lights casting their dead shadows. From neighbouring apartments came the sour smell of boiling cabbages, the clang of pots and pans and the cackle of the Entertainment Channel. We made our way down the staircase. 
     Outside the block, the wind sliced into us with a vengeance. That early in the year, it was still bringing ash down from the north, dumping the fine, grey dust on every surface.  
     The bus was packed. We pushed on, into a wall of dark clothes that smelled unwashed. I felt hot breath on my face. I hoped Lee was behind me. I imagined him standing on the pavement, watching me go, then turning and walking back to the apartment. Each time the bus stopped I was pushed further in, until I was standing in the middle, by the join. Eventually I saw him, wedged near the doors. I stared at him but he didnҒt turn round. 
     The bus took the long route to the hospital, swaying and lurching along the potholed road through the Buffer Zone. The distance was only about three kilometres but the Zone was kept deliberately rough, a hangover from the wars. I held onto a ceiling strap. In the seat next to me two women were smoking, chatting loudly about the news of the grain shipment. The windows were closed. I pulled off my cap and gloves and breathed slowly, fighting the nausea welling in my stomach. We turned onto the road which led into the High Security Zone from the north, and I saw one of the new signs welcoming us to Wheeltown.ђ The name was something to do with the way Londonђ was written in characters: Id seen it on the News Channel. At last, across the low, haphazard roofs of the market square, I spotted the hospital incinerator tower. The bus ground to a halt, its brakes complaining, and I followed a knot of people out into the street.  
     Lee was standing on the pavement, his face unreadable. I gulped the cold air and waited for my stomach to settle. Around us, the market traders shouted their wares: calligraphers, shoe makers and cheese sellers competed for business. On another day I would have strolled around and bargained with them. But there was no time. We crossed the square towards the hospital, heading for the Impregnation Centre, a separate building off to the right. As we walked up to the entrance, through waves of people coming and going, I began to realise why Nina had warned me against accompanying Lee: I couldnҒt ignore the knowing looks and barely suppressed laughter. I lengthened my stride and moved ahead.  
     At reception I explained to the medic why I was there. A smile played round her mouth. I thought she was encouraging me: later I realised she was enjoying the fact that I had no idea what was coming. She turned a large appointments book towards me and pointed to the date. I signed my name. Lee would sign below. In the space for relationshipђ I wrote marriedђ, but my pen smudged the second character and I saw her smirk. 
     She led us down a long corridor that smelled of rubber tiles to a seating area where two rows of green plastic chairs were arranged, back to back. On one side three men sat waiting. Like Lee, they all wore ordinary dark worksuits. With a twinge I noticed that only one looked as old as my husband. The two younger ones were shaven-headed, and were sipping strong-smelling liquid from paper cups. The older man was reading a Baby Guidebook as if hed never seen it before. There were no women. No one spoke. 
     We sat down with our backs to them. ґSee what a good wife youve got,Ғ I said in a stage whisper. 
     Lee said nothing. In the fluorescent light his face was drained of colour, and I made a mental note to ask about his medication. I looked around. Closed doors led off the waiting area. The walls were lined with posters about diet and health, and there was a framed print of snow-capped mountains, the kind of picture Id seen in the books that Feng ordered from the library. Above the buzz of the lights, the usual flute and strings music was playing from a speaker on the wall. I never recognised the melodies. But that wasnҒt the only sound. I became aware of a strange rasping noise behind us. 
     I went to turn round, but Lee put his hand on my arm. Donђt, he muttered. 
     There was no point arguing. I needed him to stay calm. I leaned back in my seat and tried to work out which of the men was crying. No one moved. Lee reached for a magazine and I practised reading the characters on the posters. It was too warm. I took off my jacket. 
     It was odd to be at such close quarters with men Җ our viable minorityђ, as President Lo called them. Apart from Lee, and occasionally Dan, the only man I saw regularly was Lu Hsiao, who lived downstairs. I swivelled in my seat, as if to study the poster on the wall behind us, and took in the other patients. The older man was nearest to me. He could have been a second-timer, apart from the way he was studying the guidebook. His large hands looked rough, the nails torn and dirty. His brown hair was tied back in a greasy ponytail, and beads of sweat shone on his forehead. But I saw that he was younger than Id thought. I glanced at the other two: they looked better cared for; and they were definitely younger than Lee. HeҒd had many more years of freedom. He didnt know how lucky he was. 
     The door at the far end of the room opened and a white-coated medic called out a name I didnҒt understand. One of the shaven-headed men stood up, and suddenly the guy next to him reached to shake his hand, muttering something that could have been good luckђ. The fragility of the sound was unnerving. The man walked past us, staring straight ahead. His clothes gave off a distinctive smell: sweat, and fear. I reached for Lees hand and squeezed it, but he pulled away. 
     ґIm all right,Ғ he said, without looking up.
     For the first time I wondered if it would hurt. I searched my memory for details from Fathers Hour, but all I remembered was the slogan: impregnation was Just A Procedure. And men were used to medical processes: after the womb implant at the end of junior school, they were on monitored medication for the rest of their lives. Lee was always going to the doctor for something. 
     I couldnҒt imagine another life growing under my skin. The thought was disturbing; unreal; repulsive. But when I was younger Id been gripped by the idea. One day I asked my mother if sheҒd ever wondered about it. Her face closed down. Of course not,ђ she replied. Men have babies.ђ When I asked again  thinking I֒d managed to disguise the question  she simply said, ֑Forget it. 
     When I was a teenager she died, and my curiosity died with her.
     But recently the thought had returned, pushing into my dreams, getting tangled with my nightmares Җ prompted no doubt by Lees procedure. Sometimes, when I was alone, I even stroked my stomach through my worksuit, trying to picture the hollow where new life could begin. I could admit it to no one. I felt foolish even thinking about it.  
     The music swelled into the waiting area, startling me. Lee looked up. It was too loud to hear anything else; too loud to think. The door in front of us opened, and a powerful smell of antiseptic drifted out. A small woman with short fair hair stood in the doorway. She was wearing a white coat over her worksuit, and regulation black canvas shoes. The music died away.
     She looked up from her clipboard and shouted, ґLin Lee! 
     Lee stood up and I followed him.
     ґComrade. The doctor showed Lee into the room. She turned to me. ґWhere are you going?  
     ґWith my husband, of course. The sentence came out just as IҒd practised it.     Behind me I sensed the other men, watching.
     Your і husband? she sneered. ґDont you understand, comrade? This procedure is for the man only.Ғ She directed me into a chair, her grip tight on my arm. Wait here, Miss Lin.ђ She pointed to a table by the wall, where two flasks stood next to a tray of identical mugs. Help yourself to tea. Read. We wonђt be long. She handed me a magazine. 
     ґAnna! LeeҒs voice.
     I got up. Iђve come to be with him. The doctor started to close the door but I pushed it open and peered in. I saw shiny metal; a tray with instruments; the padded arm of a chair. A taller, gowned-up medic appeared, then moved away again. 
     The doctor blocked my way. ґThere is no need for you to come in. She put her hand on my shoulder. ґPlease sit down. 
     A shout: of pain Җ or fear.  
     I forced my way into the room. Fixed to the wall was a narrow bed. Lee was strapped to it, a tube running from his arm to a bag of fluid, suspended on a metal stand. His eyes were wide. His mouth was taped. The gowned-up medic stood next to him.
     You are not helping the situation, comrade.ђ The doctor was strong for her size. She seized my arms and manoeuvred me into the waiting area. The door banged behind me and I heard the lock being turned. She must have alerted reception: two nurses appeared. One guided me back to my seat, while the other went to the tea table. 
     She brought a mug and pressed it into my hands, then sat down next to me. Miss Lin, take it easy.ђ Her blue eyes were calm beneath her black fringe. Your man is fine. Heђs being well looked after. Just relax, then you can take him home. If you make him too worried, the procedure wont take.Ғ She looked at me. Then, you understand, he will have to come back.ђ 
     Shed played her trump card. Who would want to repeat this?
     I slumped in the chair. No one spoke. Did they all know about this? IҒd never seen it on Fathers Hour. I picked up the magazine. ґIs Now The Right Time For Your Baby? screamed the cover. I flipped the pages, with their advice on carrying menҒs health, and diet, seeing only Lees face: his taped mouth, eyes filled with fear. His age must have counted against him Җ he shouldnt have left it so late. I glanced at the other patients. While IҒd been arguing with the doctor, another man must have been called in: only one remained. But he didnt look at me. Had I made things worse for them all? Did they envy Lee, or pity him, that his wife had caused such a fuss? I tried not to think how the medics might take their revenge. 
     All I could do was wait. I sipped my tea, put the magazine down and picked up another. The music bleated and whined in the background. I found myself staring at a carrying date ready reckoner, and traced eight months from now with my fingertip. If this procedure worked our daughter would be born in October, which made her a Monkey Җ cunning, clever, quick-witted. My gaze slid over the other animals. I was a Rooster; Lee was a Tiger. We were a good match  the rooster֒s voice and the tigers strength. I got up and walked to the poster on the wall. I felt the menҒs gaze on me. If they thought I was about to burst into the room and drag Lee out they would be disappointed. I needed this to work as much as he did. 
     I studied the diagram of foetal development. Once the egg was implanted, as long as it took properly, the babys growth would be rapid. At eight weeksҒ gestation, the foetus had a face, with a nose, a mouth and tongue. By sixteen weeks, it would be fully formed, with fingernails and its own fingerprints. At thirty-four weeks wed be at the Birth Centre, and IҒd collect Lee and bring them both home. I tried to picture us with a baby. I saw Lee, holding her. I imagined how she would be: the weight of her; her cry. Then an indefinable feeling moved through me and was gone again. Something dark; incomprehensible. Despite the warm air, I shivered. I looked round, surprised to find myself still there, in the waiting room. I went back to my seat.

Over an hour later, the door opened and the doctor ushered Lee out. His face was pale, his eyelids drooping. 
     She patted his arm. All over! You might be a bit sore for a day or two. Weђll see you back in four weeks. She sat him in a chair and turned to me, her blank expression giving no hint of our earlier fight. ґHes only had light sedation Җ it should soon wear off. If all goes well, in three to four weeks hell start to feel sick. He might go off his rice Җ or only want cabbage, or crackers. It will pass. She prodded Lee. ґNot too many fried dough sticks, ah? She raised her eyebrows at me. ґYoud be surprised at what some of them get up to.Ғ She pointed to the wall. See the poster, there? That shows you how baby grows.ђ She set off towards the swing doors. Comrade Lin, come with me and weђll sort out the ration forms and medication.
      At reception I propped Lee in a chair, but he was struggling to stay awake. I called a cab from the number on a wall poster. I kept reminding myself that this procedure was the start of a new life, yet he seemed damaged. 
     I waited next to him. ґWhat happened? I whispered, as his head lolled on my shoulder. People were staring. I pushed him upright. The tape had left a red bloom round his mouth. ґIs your skin sore? That was all I could bear to ask.
     He shook his head slowly. ґIt was a shock, thats all. Not what I expected.Ғ His words were slurred.
     Why was it so bad? Thatђs not how it looks on the TV. 
     He laughed as if he were drunk. ґMy fault, I expect.
     ґWhat did you do? I managed not to shout.
     ґI resisted, Anna. He looked down at his upturned palms, as if they would reveal an explanation. ґWhen I got in there  I couldn֒t go through with it. I tried to get out. He shrugged. ґThey didnt like that.Ғ
     Why? You knew what was happening. You knew we were coming here today.ђ I remembered the other men in the waiting room. Youђve had years, Lee  years of doing what you wanted. Now you just have to do this.֒ For an instant I wondered if he had somehow avoided the procedure. If it doesnђt take  you know we֒ll have to come back. 
     ґDont worry, itҒll take. He hung his head, whether with tiredness or resignation I couldnҒt tell. 
     I stared at the back of his neck, the dark hair curling at his collar. What had happened in that room? I wanted to punish him; I wanted to comfort him. I wondered whether I knew him at all. 
     San lun che!ђ The cab driver had called in the doorway. I had helped Lee to his feet and wed stumbled out of the hospital. 
     HeҒd been right: the procedure had worked first time. Within two weeks, he was retching in the mornings.    

What you doing, tongzhi?ђ Fengs voice cut through my thoughts. 
     IҒd stopped painting with my brush half-way along the arm, and a thick, dark brown streak had dried on the plaster. The brush fibres were stiff. I rinsed them in the water jar. I would have to wash the paint off and start again. 
     You are in dream.ђ Feng indicated the clock. Go home. Work harder tomorrow.ђ
     My thoughts had been so vivid I felt she must have heard them; seen the images Id seen. I hadnҒt told her about Lees carrying and now I felt sheҒd discovered my deceit. I studied her but she looked the same as always. I forced myself to move, cleaned the brushes and tidied the desk. But the sense of my daydream remained, clinging to me like mist. I saw Lees bowed head, heard his slurred voice. I needed to be with him. I picked up my backpack and headed for the door.