Volume 11: East of Eden
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I looked around. I was standing on a well-maintained roadway which widened at just this spot into a large circle, presumably to allow wheeled vehicles to turn around easily. Tall trees stood motionlessly on either side, and I could hear nothing except for the faint calls of birdsong and occasional rustles of wildlife. Opposite the roadway was a track, narrower than the road and paved with broken stones in stark contrast to the smooth tarmac I was currently standing on. It was the obvious way to go, and I moved towards the start of the path. As I did so, a sign appeared in mid-air, flashing furiously in the familiar way of the automation determined to attract your attention. "Warning: no pervasive automation beyond this point!" Simultaneously, these same words were spoken aloud directly into my ears. This warning was followed by further messages explaining in detail exactly what this meant, and the risks and hazards I was exposing myself to by proceeding. I ignored the warnings, although they did nothing to lift my mood. Already perspiring, I trudged along the path with the sun on my back, hampered by the heavy clothing, and with my high-heeled feet occasionally slipping on the uneven surface. After several hundred meters or so, I came across a sign - an old-fashioned fixed board - which announced "Eden Commune" in worn paint. No welcome, no warnings even, just a flat statement. Presumably no-one came here who did not know what to expect. Trees and heavy undergrowth grew on either side of the track which curved this way and that, making it difficult to see very far. I rounded a bend. Ahead, the woodland was cleared for fifty meters in front of a stout wooden fence which looked to be as twice as high as my head. The fence was surmounted in places by lookout towers and I could see figures moving in them. One spotted me approaching and shouted down to an unseen colleague, although I was too far away to make out the exact words. The gravel path led directly to a pair of heavy wooden gates, evidently firmed closed and blocking the way. I walked up to the gates and stopped, wondering what to do. Perhaps I should knock politely, although I doubted I would be able to make myself heard through the thick planks. Suddenly a hatch at head height slid open with a crash and a bearded face appeared in the opening. "What do you want?" he asked brusquely. "I'm Tania," I replied simply, "I'm here to see my sister Selene." The bearded man consulted something written on a sheaf of papers clipped to some kind of board. He grunted something that sounded disappointed to find my name listed, then shouted to someone to open the gates. One of the doors opened slowly on old-fashioned hinges which gave the impression that they were not very frequently opened. As soon as the gap was wide enough, I slipped through; there was another shout and the gates closed with a bang behind me. There were six or seven people clustered around me. All were men, and all wore beards. They were dressed alike in lack jacket and trousers, with a white shirt buttoned to the neck and round black hats with wide brims. The man with the clipboard, who was clearly in charge, looked me up and down. So much of me was covered up that it must have been impossible to tell that I was anything other than a Norm female, although he did look disapprovingly at what I suspect he imagined were ordinary high-heeled shoes. "So, you're our latest visitor from Sodom," he said, "Here to marvel at God's land of Eden?" I was confused, so I followed the advice that Dragon had given me in the car - when in doubt, repeat your request, politely and in simple language. "I'm here to see my sister Selene." "So you said, so you said. Jem and Jacob will act as your escort," the leader said, indicating a younger man whose facial hair owed more to willpower than hirsuteness, and an elder whose neatly-clipped beard was streaked with grey. I thanked him profusely, then set off with the two stolid men, one walking in front of me and the other directly behind. As we walked, I took the opportunity to have a good look around. Apart from a small cluster of low buildings by the gate, all dark wood and grey fieldstone, fields of various crops lay in every direction as far as I could see. Trees marched in neat rows following the lines of the hedges or were bunched into little copses in odd corners. Men and women, and smaller persons I eventually realized must be children, were working in the fields, stooped over the corn or hoeing the rows of vegetables. Our oddly-assorted little group trudged along the road towards a large group of buildings. A horse-drawn cart was coming the other way and we stepped aside to let it pass. I had seen such animals before, of course, mighty beasts that were cosseted by equestrian collectors, but this one looked worn as if by many years of hard labor. The cart itself was laden with a foul-smelling substance that I eventually realized was animal shit mixed with straw - a wagon-load of manure to fertilize the fields. Following Jem, I walked through the little town unconsciously attracting a great deal of undesired attention from the passers-by. Men dressed like those at the gates glared wordlessly at me, while women dressed as I was shielded their children as if I was some kind of untamed beast, likely to rip them limb from limb in an instant. Jacob indicated a larger building with steps leading up to an imposing front door. "You have an interview with the Reverend," he said, "All visitors must be inspected and approved by him." "The Reverend is a blessed Methuselah, a miracle from God," Jem added with awe in his voice, "He has lived amongst us for two hundred years and more, without the sins of your godless nanotechnology." I was unsure what response was expected from me here. My natural mischievousness got the better of me, and I asked him, "Do you expect to live as long?" "Oh no," he replied earnestly, "I am far too sinful, I am sure." Before I could question Jem further, Jacob shushed us both, then removed his hat and walked up the stone staircase. Jem and I followed meekly, Jem too removing his headgear and toying with it nervously. We entered the building and stood inside a high vaulted hall with an echoing polished stone floor. We marched nearly the full length of the hall, the men's boots and my heels clattering loudly on the marble tiles. All eyes followed us, and it seemed I was again the center of attention for some reason. I held my chin high and looked neither to right nor left. Jacob stopped and knocked on a door marked with a large brass plate which read: "The Very Reverend James W. Buxton". A voice sounded from within: "Come!" We entered, the door swinging open silently. A old man with a grey beard sat behind a large desk of polished wood, caught in the act of handing a sheaf of papers to an underling who took one look at our party and scurried out. With a start, I realized that I recognized the man at the desk - his was the face I had seen peering from the bushes sat the picnic spot, watching Kim the Andie being fucked hard by her friends in the clearing by the lake.
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Part 3