“By magic, eh?”
“The Mother God changed them. After the Gene Wars a group of them came to Minerva and begged forgiveness. They also begged for sanctuary. The Headwomen asked the Mother God what they should do. The Mother God spoke to them and said she would transform every man who truly begged forgiveness, and their sons would be transformed as well and their sons too and so on. …”
“Like I said, by magic.” Milo stood up and slowly stretched, raising his arms straight above his head. “But have it your way. At least we agree that Minervan men aren’t normal men. Nicer men, maybe, but not normal. And the big drawback for your early Minervans is that the idea didn’t catch on outside the Minervan state. Sure, a lot of men, who supported the Minervan ideal of a feminist state, gladly volunteered to be modified, but the majority of the world’s male population didn’t show any inclination to join the queue.
“The problem was that to rewire a man’s brain to the point where all the unwanted masculine traits could either be tuned down or eradicated completely you had to radically alter his sexuality—the hormonal programming for masculine sexuality and masculine behaviour traits are one and the same. So your transformed Minervan man, though still physically male, was very undersexed compared to the average untransformed man. Which is why they became known as ‘eunuchs’, and even worse, by the outside world.”
“They’re not eunuchs,” said Jan quickly.
He raised his eyebrows. “You speak from personal experience, do you?”
She felt her face grow hot. “That’s none of your business.”
“On the contrary, everything to do with you is my business now, little amazon. But no matter. Tell me instead how you felt about Minervan men in general.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I liked them. My father I loved.”
“As much as you loved your mother?”
“Well, no. …”
“What was the main difference between Minervan men and women? I don’t mean the obvious physical differences—I mean temperamentally.”
Jan frowned. “Well, I suppose the men were less … less complicated than all the women I knew. Their attitude to life could be a little annoying at times—they were always cheerful, placid, happy. …”
Milo gave a triumphant grin. “Which proves my point, and goes back to what I was saying about the manipulation of mental states. Your genegineers were obliged to up the dose of those natural happy drugs we’ve all got in our heads as a way of keeping your men contented with their changed lot in life. You Minervans may not have actually cut their balls off but you neutered them just the same.”
“All I know is that I’d rather be with a Minervan man than with you.”
He grinned down at her. “You don’t find me stimulating company?”
“No Minervan man has ever raped a woman in the whole history of Minerva.”
“Have I threatened to rape you?”
“Yes,” she said coldly.
His grin turned into a scowl. “Oh, not that again.” He gestured that she should get up. “Come on. We’ll go and get some food. There’s only an hour or so before we’ll be taken up top to go to work.”
She got to her feet. “What is our work? I heard the overseers say that I was going to be a glass walker. What is that?”
“I’ll tell you after we’ve eaten. I don’t want to kill your appetite.”
Chapter Eleven
“Don’t look down if it disturbs you,” said Milo.
“I can’t help it,” Jan told him weakly as she clung to the support bar with all her strength. It was almost as bad as it had been in the wicker basket hanging beneath the Lord Pangloth. They were crammed with several other slaves into a glass-sided box that was slowly rising within a vast, sagging cavern like the stomach of some gigantic animal.
What intensified Jan’s feeling of vertigo was that the glass cage and its heavy human cargo was supported by two strips of narrow black tape that looked as substantial as hair ribbons. Jan couldn’t understand why the tapes didn’t snap under all that weight and Milo’s brief and puzzling explanation that the tapes were made of an extra-strong material that came from beyond the sky gave her no solace at all.
“Relax and enjoy the view,” said Milo cheerfully. “It’s quite a remarkable sight, you must admit. I’ve been seeing it for three years but it never fails to impress me.”
Jan forced herself to look around. She shuddered. The great, flesh-like walls were undulating slowly as if alive. “I don’t understand. There’s nothing keeping it all up. Why doesn’t it collapse on us?”
“I’ve already tried to explain to you,” said Milo. “We’re surrounded by gas. Helium. Millions and millions of cubic feet of it. You can’t see it because it’s invisible, like air. This gas bag, and all the others like it, is what keeps the Lord Pangloth flying. Think of it as like being inside a giant version of a toy balloon.”
“A what?” she said blankly.
“Ah yes. I forgot. No toy balloons. Not even kites allowed. The law of the Sky Lords. …” He rubbed his chin. “Okay then, think of it as being like a giant soap bubble. You do know what a soap bubble is, don’t you.”
She gave him a disdainful look. “Of course I do. But it doesn’t look like a soap bubble. Soap bubbles are round.”
“And so would this be if it was completely inflated with gas. It isn’t, though, because when a Sky Lord goes higher the surrounding air pressure drops and the gas in the cell expands. If you put too much gas in the cell when it’s at a low altitude the gas would rupture the cell at a higher altitude. Understand?”
“I think so.”
He chuckled patronizingly and made to ruffle her hair but she ducked. One of the other slaves sniggered, but he soon went silent when Milo turned and looked at him.
Jan said to Milo, “You gave me a week to decide, remember? You promised not to touch me in the meantime.”
“I was being friendly, that’s all,” he said, sounding hurt.
“Some friend,” she said bitterly.
The glass cage was almost at the top of the gas cell. Jan saw what seemed to be an inverted glass dome attached to the ceiling of the cell. As they neared the dome an opening appeared in it and the cage, still climbing up its impossibly thin twin lengths of black tape, entered. The dome swung shut beneath the cage and then Jan saw another opening appear in the material of the cell itself. “Gas lock,” explained Milo. “Prevents the gas from escaping.”
The cage came to a halt in a dimly lit space above the gas cell. The doors of the cage slid open. “Out!” ordered Benny. The slaves spilled from the cage. Jan stared about wonderingly. The grey and shadowy space between the floor and the low ceiling seemed to stretch in all directions forever. A maze of struts and spidery girders connected the two surfaces.
“We’re between the inner and outer hulls,” said Milo quietly.
“No talking!” yelled Benny. “Get your gear and get topside, glass walkers!” He came up to Jan. “Amazon, you can use Milroy’s gear. He sure won’t be needing it again.”
Several of the slaves laughed as they headed towards a row of wooden lockers standing nearby. Milo led Jan to one and showed her how it opened.
“What happened to Milroy?” she asked as she gazed at the bewildering collection of objects within the locker.
“He was careless,” said Milo. He pulled out a quilted jacket and handed it to her. “This goes on first. You’ll need it. It’s going to be cold out there.”