“All the World’s a Dance, and all the people in it merely dancers.”
-Albert Fennesten, 100-32 previous. Quote said to be modified from an archaic, pre-diaspora, Earth Quote of unknown origin.
“What do you think?” Illoia asked, spinning slowly in place and letting her skirt and petticoats flare lightly. Not that they had much room to flare, even in Aleshia’s stateroom. Even civilian star liners had small rooms, but on this joint Navy Liner, even the largest staterooms were tiny.
“You are gorgeous, as usual, Darling,” Aleshia drawled. “Your fashion sense is almost as good as mine.”
“Oh, you are impossible!” Illoia said, grinning. “Shall we go?”
The lasses linked arms and began walking down the hallway. Illoia noticed several other unmarried lasses, who had been waiting nervously in their doorways, start to follow. Illoia had been far too carefully raised to show her emotions in public but she, too, was nervous; and not exactly sure why. Perhaps it was the general mood. She had always been sensitive to mood, and she had been getting a strange feeling from the lower-class lasses ever since the announcement. Surely, they all must be used to having to attend these dances; why were they all so… so keyed up?
Besides the mood, she was not at all comfortable having to go to a dance with the scum. (Not that she would ever use that word in public, but she had heard it and knew what it meant: commoners so poor or uneducated even to be able to avoid ending up in the army or, perhaps worse, lads who had joined the army because of some bizarre sense of patriotism.) It had taken her a good while to become comfortable being on board this liner, with its claustrophobically small hallways, unrelieved metal construction, the acrid smell of sweat and tang of metal, and the overwhelming male atmosphere. Perfume, makeup, and even scented soaps were all strictly forbidden by the navy staff: something about the recycling units. But at least she had never been forced to visit the scum’s quarters, so up to now she had only seen them from afar, and that mostly only officers. But now she was going to be crammed into a sweaty room with dozens of them from all ranks.
Illoia had almost managed to calm her racing nerves during the short walk to the lounge; a short walk because the unmarried lasses’ hallway was fairly close to all of the locations for social functions- and as far as possible from the unmarried lad’s quarters, both for the Navy and the scum. But as they approached the doorway to that lounge, she suddenly remembered another reason to be nervous.
As the daughter of a Sector Governor, Illoia lived her life in a bubble of proper behaviour; her family and their servants at home, the social events that she would attend, even when she went shopping it was in well-regulated areas. But her brothers had told her about these dances, and their stories had made it clear that she could expect vulgar behaviour, behaviour that skirted the edge of the Articles at best.
But, schooled in long years as her father’s daughter, she hoped she let none of that show on her face as she turned her group into the room. One of those claustrophobic ship’s rooms, this one’s very width and depth emphasising its lack of height.
“Ah, young lasses, right on time,” she heard, and turned to see an older lass… she must be at least forty… dressed in a standard Army dependent’s dress, coming over to them from her left. “If you will all move over to that side,” she said, pointing to the far side of the room where several lasses were already gathered. “You know that the tradition is for the families to come next and then the lads, so we will leave room for them here.”
Illoia hadn’t known this custom, having never attended one of these dances, but she, Aleshia, and the lasses following them went over to stand with the lasses that were already there and, seeing the other, lower-ranked, lasses staring nervously at her, Illoia tried to break the ice a bit and said, “Well, lasses, wasn’t this a surprise? I hadn’t expected that we were to have a party tonight!”
“I’d never even heard of them having an actual Article 17 dance on a liner like this!” Eudoria, the daughter of an upper middle-class merchant, said, her voice a trifle bright. “Several lasses have already, that is, they met up with some of the lads, and a few have already 17’d, but I think the rest of us were beginning to despair. And now here we all are, ready to be snapped up!”
Eudoria laughed, but Illoia could tell from the looks on the faces of the other lasses that the situation wasn’t funny to them. She knew that many of them, perhaps even most of them, were beginning to fear that they would never marry, so ‘despair’ would not be too harsh a word. Although, of course, there was ‘Presentation’, tomorrow, where many of the shier lads would no doubt have made their request.
Just then, the married officers and their wives started coming in, and with the growing crowd and noise, many of the lasses broke up into couples, or cliques, and began talking. Illoia noticed several lasses still standing in a nervous semi-circle near, but not too near, herself and Aleshia.
“Hello, Lasses,” she said, moving toward them and holding out her fingertips to be brushed. Social connections went both ways, and she was very accustomed to serving as her father’s proxy at events like this. However, she had never been to an event quite like this!
She had just brushed the fingertips of the last lass when the lass next to her started, staring at the door.
She turned herself and saw a group coming in. These were, no doubt the unmarried contingent, the young Army lads this party was designed for. At the sight of the first few and the glances they were sending her way, she relaxed… finally admitting to herself that she had been nervous. But these— they were hardly past being infants, and none of them looked bold enough to even talk to her, let alone force their attentions on her.
“So, are you all ready to get back home?” she asked, turning back to the crowd surrounding her, now bigger by a couple of lasses
“Well, this party’s going to be a flop,” Illoia whispered to Aleshia several minutes later while one of their friends related a funny story about her brother and a pig he had shot. The two hadn’t had much of a chance to talk before as they had been working the crowd separately, the other lasses very eager to form social connections with her and Aleshia… Aleshai’s father being disgustingly rich. “The lasses are all here, nervous as twittlings, and none of the lads seem willing to dance.”
“They’re willing enough, Darling,” Aleshia drawled in that maddeningly foolish accent she insisted on using most of the time and practically always in public. “They’re just waiting for someone of their own to play the sacrificial lamb to cross the mighty gulf and dare the wrath of the goddess.”
“Don’t blaspheme!” Illoia warned. “And I suppose you mean me? They’re afraid of me?”
“There’s hardly a soldier there higher than a Staff Major, dear, amongst the unmarried contingent, anyway. You might as well be a Supernova as far as those lowly leaders and rankers are concerned. They are afraid to even look upon your mightiness, let alone break up the little clique that has formed around you. Besides, the lasses are all waiting for the young hero.”
“Oh, him,” Illoia said. “Have you even seen him? I hear he spends all of his time down with the lower ranks… as befits his class.”
Aleshia leaned over and whispered, her languid tone gone, “You warn me about blasphemy, and then you make a remark like that? Do you wish to get visited one fine night and have home truths about ‘class’ whispered gently but firmly in your pretty young ear? Times have changed, Illoia, and you had best change with them. The lowest draftee, if he has the favour of the dictator, ranks well above your father, and you had best not forget that!”
Illoia blushed. At their mansion, many servants, in secret, still called her ‘My Lady’, but Aleshia was right; this was far too public a gathering for her to make a slip in speech like she had done.
“Well, I hope you aren’t expecting me to go all gaga over the young hero,” she said, still in a whisper. “I hear he doesn’t even know which end of the fork to hold at dinner.”
Aleshia giggled, and, the pig story finished; the two turned back to their group.
Submitting this to the Lunar Awards, Season 5, with
Links
Article 17
Intro // Podcast Version
She was pretty, popular, snobby, and a planetary governor’s daughter. He was the son of shopkeepers, a social misfit, and a decorated hero. She thought she was there to dance. He had other ideas.
A Dance // Podcast Version
As a governor’s daughter, Illoia usually avoided such events, but when the captain made the announcement that there was to be an Article 17 dance, she, too, was forced to attend. If only the scum hadn’t been there too.
The Unbridgeable Chasm // Podcast Version
Eukles and Meriones, brave military leaders, quail at cross the gulf between themselves and asking a lass to dance.
There He Is // Podcast Version
The young hero comes in, and Aleshia and Illoyia gossip about him.
Contract Marriage
Contract marriage is an adult dystopia examining the issues of marriage. Like 1984 and Brave New World, Contract Marriage treats the relations between the sexes as a fundamental aspect of how a society is formed and, thus, how a society can go wrong.
Unlike those dystopias, Contract Marriage isn’t all horrible all of the time. The characters for the most part have a good time and get along in their society. But the issues of sexuality, of marriage or not, monogamy or not, faithfulness or not, and gender roles… keep coming up and causing tension and conflict and joy and pain.
My desire is that my readers would be thinking along with my characters about these issues and perhaps even arrive at the same place (minus the flying cars).
Introduction
In which I lay out the themes that I intend to explore in this light Dystopia, and ask others to participate.
Trade Master: First Chapter
In which Fenestra, our heroine’s mother, puts in her application for the job of 'Trade Master’ on the planet Libertas, and finds out that it isn’t that easy.
En-Drek Contract
In which Fenestra finds out that, on Libertas, everyone must be in an ‘En-drek’ contract… a long-term, live-in, heavy date between a man and a woman for the purpose of producing one child after the other with one date after the other.
Disappointment and Meditation
In which Jellia, the daughter and our heroine, finds out about her mother’s job opportunity, including its difficulties, and commits herself to meditating on the situation. (And internally commits herself to encouraging her mother to take the job.)
Decision Reached
Jellia tells her mother that she thinks she should take the job, and so her mother puts in her application… and gets the job!
First School
Jellia goes to school and gets to tell everyone about her new adventure.
First Work
Fenestra goes to work, and tells her coworker about her new opportunity.
Writing Class
Jellia writes a poem (a limerick) and tells her classmates more about her new adventure.
Trader Galloway
In which a man comes over for a ‘date’ (Ie to sleep over with her mother) and to tell them all about his time as Trade Master for their company on Libertas. And as how he was almost executed for asking a woman out on a date.
Shopping
In which Jellia and her mother go shopping for the last time, and we explore some of the nature of the planet she is leaving.
Language
In which Jellia starts using some new words at school, and everyone gathers round to find out what they mean.
Kesh-i Cooking Class
In which Jellia finds out that children (Kesh-i) on Libertas are expected to cook.
Trade Master Training
In which Fenestra begins her training for her new role, with an old enemy.
Two Week Date
In which Fenestra and Alex decide to date for the next two weeks.
The Facts of Life
In which Fenestra brings Alex home, and Jellia isn’t impressed. Although she is interested in how dating works for boys.
Snips
In which Jellia spends time snipping with a boy, and brings him home.
Kissing
In which Jellia and her mother both have a sexual ‘last fling’ before they leave, and Jellia practices the new kisses she will need for her new planet.
Off Ephemera
In which Jellia and her mother arrive at the shuttle port, go through some annoying formalities, and take off!
Patriarchy Discussion
and I are discussing patriarchy. I’m in favour and think it inevitable. J.S… not so much.
The Inevitability of Patriarchy: Laying some foundation.
The Blessings of the Breast and the Womb: The role of pregnancy, lactation, and raising children in the inevitability of patriarchy.
What is Marriage: Adding the issue of marriage, and discussing meritocracy and inheritance.
Not in the letter exchange, but on subject:
The Feminist Problem with Patriarchy: Some logical issues that feminists have when discussing patriarchy.
Not part of the discussion, but related:
An exchange of critiques with @Von (and why didn't that highlight?).
1. Have you considered adding Previous/Next buttons to your posts? It took me a while to figure out where to go next.
2. Your language style strikes me as being rather archaic/formal, which is one of the reasons that I think of you stories as being "Regency Romance! IN SPAAACCEE!!!. As well as being a story about varying manners.
3. Even so, the continued use of the word "lasses" tends to throw me out of the story. It is not a word that comes up frequently in my reading. An occasional use in dialogue would be fine.
4. Maybe say what "Article 17" is early on so that we know what it is before the girls start talking about it.
5. My, these are an obnoxious lot of prigs, aren't they?