meant doing just the sort of thing we were
supposed to prevent others doing; starting wars,
assassinating all of it, all the bad things I was
never involved with Special Circumstances
directly, but I knew what went on (Special
Circumstances; Dirty Tricks, in other words.The
Culture's tellingly unique euphemism).I refused to
live with such hypocrisy and chose instead this
honestly selfish and avaricious society, which
doesn't pretend to be good, just ambitious.
But I have lived here as I lived there, trying not to
hurt others, trying just to be myself; and I cannot be
myself by destroying a ship full of people, even if
they are some of the rulers of this cruel and callous
society.I can't use the gun; I can't let Kaddus and
Cruizell find me.And I will not go back, head
bowed, to the Culture.
I finished the glass of jahl.
I had to get out.There were other cities, other
planets, besides Vreccis; I'd just had to run; run
and hide.Would Maust come with me though?I
looked at the time again; he was half an hour
late.Not like him.Why was he late?I went to the
window, looking down to the street, searching for
him.
A police APC rumbled through the traffic.Just a
routine cruise; siren off, guns stowed.It was
heading for the Outworlder's Quarter, where the
police had been making shows of strength
recently.No sign of Maust's svelte shape swinging
through the crowds.
Always the worry.That he might be run over, that
the police might arrest him at the club (indecency,
corrupting public morals, and homosexuality; that
great crime, even worse than not making your pay-
off!), and, of course, the worry that he might meet
somebody else.
Maust.Come home safely, come home to me.
I remember feeling cheated when I discovered,
towards the end of my regendering, that I still felt
drawn to men.That was long ago, when I was
happy in the Culture, and like many people I had
wondered what it would be like to love those of
my own original sex; it seemed terribly unfair that
my desires did not alter with my physiology.It took
Maust to make me feel I had not been
cheated.Maust made everything better.Maust was
my breath of life.
Anyway, I would not be a woman in this society.
I decided I needed a refill.I walked past the table.
' will not affect the line-stability of the weapon,
though recoil will be increased on power-priority,
or power decreased -'
'Shut up!' I shouted at the gun, and made a clumsy
attempt to hit its Off button; my hand hit the pistol's
stubby barrel.The gun skidded across the table and
fell to the floor.
'Warning!' The gun shouted. 'There are no user-
serviceable parts inside!Irreversible deactivation
will result if any attempt is made to dismantle or -'
'Quiet, you little bastard,' I said (and it did go
quiet).I picked it up and put it in the pocket of a
jacket hanging over a chair.Damn the Culture;
damn all guns.I went to get more drink, a heaviness
inside me as I looked at the time again.Come home,
please come home and then come away, come
away with me
I fell asleep in front of the screen, a knot of dull
panic in my belly competing with the spinning
sensation in my head as I watched the news and
worried about Maust, trying not to think of too
many things.The news was full of executed
terrorists and famous victories in small, distant
wars against aliens, out-worlders, subhumans.The
last report I remember was about a riot in a city on
another planet; there was no mention of civilian
deaths, but I remember a shot of a broad street
littered with crumpled shoes.The item closed with
an injured policeman being interviewed in
hospital.
I had my recurring nightmare, reliving the
demonstration I was caught up in three years ago;
looking, horrified, at a wall of drifting, sun-struck
stun gas and seeing a line of police mounts come
charging out of it, somehow more appalling than
armoured cars or even tanks, not because of the
visored riders with their long shock-batons, but
because the tall animals were also armoured and
gas-masked; monsters from a ready-made, mass-
produced dream; terrorizing.
Maust found me there hours later, when he got
back.The club had been raided and he hadn't been
allowed to contact me.He held me as I cried,
shushing me back to sleep.
'Wrobik, I can't.Risaret's putting on a new show
next season and he's looking for new faces; it'll be
big-time, straight stuff.A High City deal.I can't
leave now; I've got my foot in the door.Please
understand.' He reached over the table to take my
hand.I pulled it away.
'I can't do what they're asking me to do.I can't
stay.So I have to go; there's nothing else I can do.'
My voice was dull.Maust started to clear away the
plates and containers, shaking his long, graceful