The Meat Tree by Gwyneth Lewis Read Free Book Online Page B

made it perfectly clear that she wants nothing to do with her offspring.

    Inspector of Wrecks
    But it does matter. These motifs are in the programme for a reason. Let me think this through. What we’re seeing is the change from matrilineal inheritance to a patrilineal system.

    Apprentice
    Whatever. I can’t think about that now, I have a practical problem. I may have a baby, but I don’t have breasts.

    Inspector of Wrecks
    What the story’s saying is that female creativity can be usurped by men. If mothers refuse to raise their children, or don’t acknowledge their existence, then men are in charge of both politics and the domestic realm.

    Apprentice
    I’ll find a woman in the village to suckle the boy.

    Inspector of Wrecks
    It makes me wonder about how the relations were between the three crew members. Two men and one woman. She would have to have been pretty canny not to be dominated by the men. I wonder if this is the trace of a power struggle between the three? One that might have destroyed them?

    Apprentice
    You’ve lost me now.

    Inspector of Wrecks
    But you’ve got to see how this is relevant, the whole ideology of the game. How can I say? It’s the male fantasy of taking over all creativity, even that which rightly belongs to the female.

    Apprentice
    All I know is that Gwydion’s devoted to the boy. For the first time he’s willing to take care long term of one of his offspring.

    Inspector of Wrecks
    If the men take over all creativity, what is there left for the women to do?

    Apprentice
    In fact, I feel quite fierce about this boy. I’ll do anything – anything – to make sure that he has what every child deserves.
    I’m going to use my magic to its full extent to give him a life, to make him legitimate.

    *

    Synapse Log 5 Feb 2210, 23:45

    Inspector of Wrecks
    Of course! The audio cassette. I knew there was something we’d forgotten to log. It’s just possible that it’s still working. I’ll go there now.
    Move softly so that I don’t disturb Nona in her hammock. She needs her sleep. She worked hard today. No need to put on the light, I can feel my way from foothold to handhold, I know the dimensions of this module so well, it’s as familiar to me as my own body. Though not the sight of another person sleeping. In the gloom I can see that her hair has worked its way loose from its band and spread out like a sea fan. Her hand twitches. In her netting she looks like a fish caught underwater.
    Torch for the module. Close the hatch between the two vessels. Press tape in. Nothing. Or, rather, a background sound like something turning. So it’s not quite dead. I know, needs to be rewound. Tape may be fragile. Come on, come on.
    As I’m waiting I notice little patches of mould growing on the hull. Our breath condensing against the cold bulwarks as we spend time in the VR machines. I bet the crew had to wipe the walls down with anti-fungals. Not like us with the chemicals built into the ship’s lining.
    Right. Press Play. A woman’s laughter. A male voice in the background mumbling something. She has a light voice, full of joy. Says – what is it? – yes, ‘Come on Urien, don’t be shy. You know us all.’ Some applause then quiet, then a young voice – a child – begins to sing! Can’t make out the words. What? Bugger, what’s happening? Tape must have snapped. Rush to press Stop, but it’s all unspooling.
    God! They had a child on board. Nothing about him – it sounded like a boy – in the log. And the company sounded, from the applause, like far more than four. But even in the most primitive of Earth space vehicles, they could have got to Mars in nine months. They started out with three crew members. Even if the woman was heavily pregnant when she came on board (and there was no mention of that in the log, you’d expect it to be noted), they still took longer than