Woman on the Edge of Time - Marge Piercy [101]
Bolivar seemed tense, sitting with his head in his hands, staring from gray eyes that burned bloodshot. Luciente sat bunched tight across the circle from him. Her hands crouched on the table before her, the knuckles like miniature snowcapped mountains. Luciente flashed a tenuous smile at her and wiped her forehead.
“I’m people’s judge for Mouth-of-Mattapoisett this year, and tonight I’m refereeing,” Parra said.
“This is a game?”
“No, we’re having a worming.” Parra turned to the table. “Do easercises while I explain. You look as if you could use relaxing.”
Around the doughnut table all begun to murmur a sort of chant—making no effort to do it in unison—eyes shut, faces tilted slightly backward and then forward.
“Luciente and Bolivar have not been communing. Meshing badly. Sparks and bumps. Tonight we try to comprend that hostility and see if we can defuse it.”
“Aren’t people allowed to dislike each other?”
“Not good when they’re in the same core. Jackrabbit is close to both. Such bumping strains per. They compete for Jackrabbit’s attent. They are picky toward each other’s ways. We have critted them for it before, but matters lift only briefly. When they crit each other, it does not hold up under scrutiny as honest—but self-serving.” Parra smiled wryly.
“Suppose after a worming they still can’t stand each other?”
“Jackrabbit may choose to see neither for some time. Both may be sent into temporary wandering. We may impose invisibility. We resort to that after bad quarreling. Or sometimes when people cease to be sweet friends, one feels bitterness.” Parra looked into her face with eyes that reminded her of Luciente’s. In old earth she’d have thought them related. She felt a brief glimmer of hope that such a resemblance might make Parra sympathetic to Luciente. “We put a mother-in-law taboo on—drawn from old-time practice? Persons aren’t allowed to speak for two months to or about each other. Such a time often releases bumping. Besides, it’s such a nuisance, frequently each longs to be done with it and speak to the other again. It becomes silly. That too helps.”
Connie grimaced. “Don’t you people have nothing to worry about besides personal stuff? Why should you care if Luciente and Bolivar like each other? What a big waste of those resources you all like to go on about!”
“First, they need not like each other to behave civilly. Second, we believe many actions fail because of inner tensions. To get revenge against someone an individual thinks wronged per, individuals have offered up nations to conquest. Individuals have devoted whole lives to pursuing vengeance. People have chosen defeat sooner than victory, with credit going to an enemy. The social fabric means a lot to us. In childhood we all learn a story about how an anthropologist asked a Pawnee to define bravery. Person said that White Cloud was the bravest individual person had ever known because when Laughing Bear slandered per, White Cloud had given Laughing Bear a horse. How is that brave? asked the anthropologist. The Pawnee said, But it was White Cloud’s only horse.”
Around the table everyone was stretching, sitting back.
“The community is precious. That’s what you’re saying.”
“Just so.” Parra nodded, grinning.
“You’re a judge? Can you hang a sentence on them?”
“Tonight I’m referee. Here to make sure the group crits each justly. I can point out injustice. Watch for other tensions that may surface, clouding the issues, weighting the reaction. Someone not from this village must play referee.”
She frowned at this short, plump woman who called