The Other Side of Time (part 2)

Elizabeth Ottosson

The second part of Elizabeth’s compelling Thrutopian story…

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Afterwards they curled together on the bed as birds chattered outside the window, Aminta drowsily identifying each call or whistle.

Marnie still had no idea how to tell any of them apart, except for the ones that resembled the crows, gulls and pigeons that ruled London’s gutters and rooftops.

“I haven’t been up here for so long,” Aminta said, lying back with a sigh.

“Was this your bedroom? Tell me about it.”

“The house belonged to my family, in the days when property was owned. These are my grandmother’s paintings.” She gestured at the women lining the walls.

“I like them.” Marnie rested her head on Aminta’s shoulder. “But I thought your family wasn’t from Dunbarrow?”

“Hah.” Aminta’s fingers clenched Marnie’s arm, but she kept her face averted. “My mum was born here. My grandparents grew up here, too. But when we collectivised, my grandfather ran away to Parila, taking my mother with him.”

“And your grandmother stayed here? Alone?”

Aminta nodded. “Not completely alone, because she opened the house to the community. They transformed it together, and since then it’s always been a place for groups to gather. And then, upstairs became a safe place for those who needed it – women, mostly, but sometimes men. Or those who didn’t define themselves as women or men. Grandmother Hedwig taught painting. And she lived here, on this floor, while people came and went around her.”

“So she wasn’t lonely, then.” Marnie slid her fingers across Aminta’s belly, caressing the swell of it.

“No.” Aminta laughed. “Never lonely. But when she got sick and it was clear she was dying, my parents came here to look after her. They brought me along, too, with my little brother and sister. And I stayed. I like it here, better than Parila.”

“Does Parila… work in the same way as Dunbarrow? Is it colle— collectivised?” Marnie belatedly remembered her cover story; she was supposed to know this kind of thing. But Aminta didn’t baulk at the question.

“It’s fake collectivising, you know what I mean? They say they do things – and they do certain things, sure. There are some services available to everybody – health care and a home, for example. But they’re still dependent on mineral wealth, and so the wealth controls them. Any corporation can tell the Parila state what to do, and the state may well listen. And they still create pollution, they’ve just learned to hide it elsewhere, in places where people don’t always look.”

“But your air quality is so good here,” Marnie argued, “it must be better in other places, too. Parila isn’t that far away, is it?”

“There’s more than one kind of pollution,” Aminta said. “But you know that, don’t you?”

Marnie nodded, aware that she had betrayed far too much ignorance. If she thought it would do any good, she would go back to Aminta’s apartment and look up all the emissions and environmental targets she could find about this world. She was willing to bet they were publicly available – probably down to which countries were fishing which products this year or next.

“Do you think Dunbarrow can continue to work well for everyone?” she asked.

Aminta looked down at her. “Well, sure. That’s why I’m here, not in Parila.”

“But what if Venesa takes over? What if—” Marnie swallowed. May as well find out what Bowden’s orders really meant. “What if something happens to Mayana and Venesa is elected as the next mayor? What happens then?”

Aminta slid out from under Marnie’s head and reached for her knickers. “Firstly, not very much would happen if Venesa was mayor instead of Mayana, because we the people have the power. Mayana’s power, Venesa’s, it’s all just figurative. It means nothing in real terms.”

Marnie breathed out. Aminta raised a finger.

“Secondly, Venesa becomes mayor here over my dead body. Mine and lots of others. Oh, I don’t mean literally!” Her kiss fluttered warm on Marnie’s forehead. “Don’t look so horrified! But you must know how hard I would fight if he made a grab for power.”

Marnie tried to muster a smile, but dismal reality was descending on her again. “I have some idea, yes.” She caught Aminta’s hand and their fingers tangled together with Aminta’s bra. “Will you tell me what’s so terrible about Venesa? Please? I don’t like him, obviously. But I barely know this place, and you’ve been here for years. Will you explain?”

What she needed, she thought, was just enough information, just the right details to pass on to Bowden to put her off this current plan. Maybe they could learn from this world rather than burn it down?

Aminta straightened her bra and looked at her hard. “Your lungs are still okay?”

“You’ve done wonders for me.” Aminta smiled as if Marnie had made a joke, but it was true. Her lungs would take a few hours, maybe even days to settle down after breathing the air in the world machine. Which probably meant they would never settle down, because tomorrow she was supposed to meet Bowden and go through all of that again. But the air in Dunbarrow, even indoors, and the herbs, and Aminta’s gentle touch, plus the protective effect of Mayana’s medicine, meant the acute symptoms were all but gone. She coughed experimentally. “So much better.”

“Okay.” Aminta pulled her dress over her head and took a sip of tepid eucalyptus tea. “Arun will be here soon, so I’ll give you the short version.”

Marnie nodded, plucking her knickers from the floor. “Any version is good.”

“Venesa’s grandfather was the last time anyone in Dunbarrow had absolute power here. Theoretically it wasn’t absolute – we had the council, and he was just the mayor. But the council consisted of advisors who didn’t care about the people they represented. There was…” She wandered towards the portraits, mug in hand. “How Grandmother Hedwig put it was, they were afraid. Everyone was afraid, because nobody had enough. There was a scarcity mindset. And while they fought each other, through one council term and another, people died because they didn’t have good quality food, or because they couldn’t see a doctor. The pollution, too. The air was terrible, and the sea… we used to eat a lot more fish. Now we eat kelp, but in the past – fishing was part of our identity, you know?”

Marnie nodded. She was fully dressed now, leaning back against the headrest with her hands wrapped around her mug, which still retained a little warmth. “You’re not eating fish this year, Mayana said.”

“No,” Aminta agreed. “And maybe not next season, either, because the oceans aren’t recovering from all the pollution we caused – that places like Parila continue to cause. Maybe it’ll never recover.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry. You know all about that, of course.”

She was thinking about Marnie’s cover story – a drowned coastal home – but Marnie nodded and found herself remembering her real family, her granddad who’d had a home on the south coast of England… until it had been washed away and he’d ended his life on a sofabed in their London highrise. Was that when Mother had turned traitor? When she’d had enough of serving the organisation she’d been spying for since she was sixteen?

“Venesa’s grandfather was the person – the figurehead for all of this. The person who said there was no other way, no better way of doing things. My grandfather was on the council at the same time. He didn’t like what was going on, but he kind of agreed, he couldn’t see a better way. Couldn’t see a way to really help people.” Aminta looked over her shoulder, her finger tracing a pattern below the portrait she’d been studying. “And Grandmother Hedwig was part of another faction. She was on the council, too. I think it was her second term, or no, her third. Her faction also did a lot of work outside of the council. They set up a citizen’s assembly, and in those days we couldn’t assemble the way we did the other evening, do you remember?” She waited for Marnie’s nod. “So that was huge. People were worried about resources, too, and my grandmother’s faction said we had enough. They said there was plenty for everyone, if only it was shared equally, and this would be good for the environment, too.

“Venesa’s grandfather mocked this. He said Grandmother could only think like that because she had too much of everything, and it’s true, she was from a wealthy minerals family, like he was. But she wanted to share her wealth, while his wealth made him afraid of those who had less than him. Which was nearly everyone.”

“Mayana mentioned your grandmother,” Marnie remembered. “She said she was truly a great woman.”

Aminta grinned. “Not many people thought that at the time. People were very angry, on every side. All the factions. Even some of those she worked with thought she was throwing away their chance at power – their opportunity to make things better. Even the people who participated in her citizen’s assembly: whether they had nowhere to sleep at night or a choice of a hundred bedrooms, they were afraid and they were angry.”

“It sounds,” Marnie said hesitantly, “a little like the situation in Stroemmen, where I was born.” Or back in London, in her own world, right now. She heard Bowden’s voice again, mocking her a little earlier. Not developing a conscience, are we, Marnie?

“I think it may have been.” Aminta nodded.

“So how did it change?”

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The final part in Elizabeth’s story will answer this question. And look out for an interview with the author herself. Please subscribe so you don’t miss out!