The State of the Art(6)

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