Gorean, she thought, of course! That is the name of the language. But there are other languages, as well, doubtless, spoken on this world.
“I am afraid their concept of gender studies is not yours. Their concept of gender studies would have more to do with the care, feeding and training of slave girls, how one puts them through their paces, and such, but I did give them some idea of the matter, of your certification, its ridiculously pretended importance, the eccentric, warped, and politically laden subject matter, such things. And now, you are going to perform for us.” He clapped his hands, sharply. “Tutina!” he called.
She looked up, wildly. Perform? Tutina? She, here, on this world? Yet it was only that she had not seen her here. She had no reason for supposing that she was not on this world, and, indeed, many reasons for supposing that she would be here. Surely she was too desirable to have been left behind. And, after all, had her own master not once “bought her”?
She was suddenly dismayed. Then her master must have at least two women!
She heard sharp commands in a female voice, coming from behind her and to her left. They were in the language she had now learned was called Gorean. For an instant they seemed just inarticulate, angry noises to her. Why could they not have been uttered in English? Then, suddenly, after a moment’s delay, she understood them.
“Here, slave girl, here, to me, hurry!”
Swiftly she leaped to her feet, turned, and ran to Tutina, who stood near the entrance to the room. Even had she not been trained she might have fallen to her knees before that stern, looming figure.
It was indeed Tutina! But it was a Tutina far more formidable, and terrifying, than the one she had scorned on Earth. Her figure was even more striking than on Earth. Doubtless she, too, perhaps after some unavoidable leniencies or lapses on Earth, had, on this world, been subjected to the discipline of a prescribed diet and a regimen of exercises. Tutina was more fully clad than she, but rather as she herself had been in her former presentation before the young man whom she had recently learned owned her, in a sleeveless tunic which came just above the knees. Tutina, as she, was ankleted. Tutina’s blond hair was bound back with a woolen ribbon, or fillet, which went completely about the head, across the brow, and was knotted behind the back of the head, two ends then dangling downward, each about six inches in length. It was a talmit, indicating some authority among slaves, rather as “first girl.” In her right hand she carried a long switch. The young Ph.D. in gender studies feared that implement. She had felt it frequently enough from impatient instructrices. Tutina’s eyes flashed like blue flame. With a gesture she indicated the opened door, and her terrified charge quickly rose to her feet and went through the door, which Tutina closed behind them.
Chapter 9
SHE PERFORMS BEFORE HER MASTER,
AND CONCLUDES THE PERFORMANCE SUITABLY
There were cries of interest, and pleasure, when she reappeared in the marbled audience chamber. She stood just within the doorway, timidly, uncertainly.
“How oddly she is garbed,” whispered one of the women.
She was prodded forward by Tutina’s switch, until she stood within the yellow circle. It did not seem appropriate, somehow, to kneel, as she was dressed.
How strange she felt, to be dressed in this manner, in this place.
She felt that, dressed as she was, it might be permissible to speak, but she did not dare to do so.
“You are going to perform,” said her master.
“How?” she whispered.
“To be sure,” he said, “you cannot play the kalika, nor do you know the dances of the yearning, begging slave girl.”
She began to suspect how, on this world, slaves might perform for men, how men might use them for their entertainment.
“That is how,” said the young man to those gathered about him, “she appeared in her classroom, when I was a student, and she a teacher.”
“So strangely garbed?” inquired a man.
“The garb is not so strange for her world,” said the young man, “but the intent of her particular garb is to act as the banner of a disposition. It is proclamatory; it speaks a message. Its intent is to present a formal, tidy, cool, businesslike, professional, rather severe image, not simply one demanded by a conformist, socially prescribed ideology, one in accord with politically recommended proprieties, but, beyond that, one she felt it important, interestingly, to impose upon herself. The garb bespeaks her pretensions, of course, certain delusions, and such. But, too, in a way it bespeaks her fear. It is a defensive facade, just like the ideology she adopts for a similar purpose.”
“Her fear?” inquired a fellow in blue and yellow robes. At that time she did not know the significance of blue and yellow robes.
“Her fear of her own sexuality, which she is terrified to recognize, and insists on hiding.”
“Yet the excitement of her body is not altogether concealed,” said the fellow in blue and yellow robes, appraisingly.
“She is at war with herself,” said the young man. “She has deeply ambivalent feelings about her own body, its beauty and needs, her own emotions, the true meaning of her sex.”
“That war can be ended here,” smiled a man in yellow robes, those of the Builders.
She felt herself again the center of attention, as she stood in the circle.
When Tutina had closed the door behind them she had ordered her to her knees before her, near three packages on the floor. Her kneeling young charge, to her amazement, noted that these packages, sealed with tape, bore names and slogans with which she was familiar on Earth. She herself was familiar with these stores, and had shopped in them several times. She remembered the aisles, the counters, the crowds. Attentive to the injunctions placed upon her in connection with this narrative the names of these stores are omitted. Certainly they would be immediately recognized, at least by many familiar with a certain city.
The young charge looked up at Tutina, questioningly.
Tutina raised her switch menacingly, and the young charge put down her head, quickly, and cringed, but Tutina did not strike her.
“With moneys given to me by the master,” said Tutina, “I made these purchases, according to his instructions.”
Her young charge put out her hands and, with the tips of her fingers, touched the crinkling paper of one of the packages.
Then the young charge felt Tutina’s switch beneath her chin, lifting it. She looked into Tutina’s blue eyes.
“You are not now sitting on a chair, are you?” asked Tutina.
“No, Mistress,” said her charge. She addressed Tutina as “Mistress” because Tutina, obviously, was in authority over her. She had learned, in the last few days, to address her instructrices similarly.
Rank, distance and hierarchy are ingredient in Gorean social arrangements. The intricate stratification of society tends to produce social stability. The myth that all are equal when obviously they are not tends to ferment unrest. Each desires to climb the invisible ladder he claims does not exist. In Gorean society, with its emphasis on locality and neighborhood, with its diverse Home Stones, each with its own history and traditions, with its many castes and subcastes, each with its acknowledged privileges and rights, and obligations, respected by all, political upheavals, social disruptions, are not only rare, but to most Goreans almost incomprehensible. There is little cause for such things, little interest in them, little place for them. They just do not fit. In Gorean society there is no nameless, faceless, anonymous, ponderous, swarming many ruled by a secret few. Too richly formed, too proud, too self-respecting, too intricately structured, too much like nature herself, is Gorean society for that. Too, there are the codes, and honor.