Free Carnival-SA by Elizabeth Bear Page A

Old Earth survived pandemics and famines and Assessments during the Diaspora to achieve a few modern ideas about stewardship doesn’t mean that enlightenment trickles down to everybody. And it’s very hard for most people to postpone an immediate want for a payoff they won’t see, and neither will their grandchildren.”
    “Thus the Governors,” Elder Montevideo said, folding plump, delicate hands. The prime minister watched, silently, and so did Elder Pretoria, who was seated at the far end of the table.
    “The Coalition,” Kusanagi-Jones said, to demonstrate solidarity. He would not show pain. “So the Governors don’t intervene again on a large scale. They are still watching.”
    He knew better than to attempt Vincent’s trick of speaking as if to an idiot child, but it was tempting.
    “The Coalition isn’t allied with the Governors, then?” asked one of the other women at the table, an olive-skinned matron with cool hazel eyes who never stopped smiling. Elder Kyoto, if Kusanagi-Jones had the name right. He’d logged it; he could check his watch if needed.
    “The Coalition is interested in…minimizing the impact the Governors have on human life. And the Governors permit the Coalition Cabinet that latitude.”
    “And the Governors must be prevented from intervening?”
    “If you know your history.” Vincent smiled right back. “It keeps us on our toes.”
    Elder Singapore covered her partner’s hand with her own. “If it wasn’t for Diaspora, New Amazonia wouldn’t be here. And we would be robbed of the pleasure of each other’s company. Which would be a great pity indeed.”
    Vincent asked, “Was yours one of the private ships?”
    “The Colony craft? Yes. Ur was also, wasn’t it?”
    He turned his fork over as if fascinated by the gleams of light on the tines. “My great-grandmother was disgustingly rich. It was an experimental society, too. The colonists were all pregnant women. No men. And there was a religious element.”
    Elder Montevideo leaned forward, although she wasn’t quite overcome enough to rest her elbows on the table. “What was the purpose of the experiment?”
    “To prove a point of philosophy. To establish an egalitarian matriarchy based on Gnostic Christian principles.” He glanced up, twinkling. “My mother is the only woman on the Colonial Coalition Cabinet. We’re not so different.”
    She sat back, picked up her silver knife, and gave minute attention to buttering a roll. “Our founding mothers believed that it was possible to live in balance with nature,” she said. “And by balance, they did not mean stasis. They meant an evolving dynamic whereby both the planet’s Gaian principle and her population would benefit. Not exploitation, as it was practiced on Old Earth: women do not exploit . We take care when we practice forestry, for example, to leave renewal niches, and we practice sustainable agriculture and humane animal husbandry.” The knife went down with a clink . “Of course, the impact of our activities is attenuated because we didn’t need to bootstrap through a fossil-fuel economy. We’ve been fortunate.”
    At least they know it, Kusanagi-Jones thought. He sipped his wine and watched her eat.
    “I’m curious,” Vincent said. “Something you said earlier hinted to me that you find eugenics distasteful.”
    Miss Pretoria laughed out loud and glanced at the prime minister for permission to continue. Kusanagi-Jones saw the elder Pretoria lean forward, but she still held her tongue. A watcher. Dangerous, if the mind was as sharp as the eyes. “If Old Earth gave women reproductive autonomy, I don’t believe you’d have a population problem. We don’t—”
    “ You have an undamaged ecosystem,” Kusanagi-Jones said. Vincent might have been the one to guess that a bold-faced refusal to temporize was one way to earn their respect, but Kusanagi-Jones wasn’t too shy to capitalize on it. Vincent didn’t quite smile, but the approval was there