She got her test in September. It said simply that she was fertile.
Christmas came again, but this time there was no free hour to sing
carols. It was like any other day, and the meditation hours on Sunday
were discontinued.
A series of strikes came in quick succession, but the protection was
better and there was insulation against the pressure. She spent long
hours with others huddled in padded dungeons a mile below the surface.
She got so she could sleep through the strikes when they were not too
close to the factory.
Alfred came back in February. He looked much older, but his hair was
not totally gray and his features were not wrinkled. He arranged for
special accommodations, and late that night when he took off his
clothes she saw the scars. It was the first time she had cried since
her mother's death.
He chucked her under the chin and said, "This is nothing. You should've
seen me before the surgeons got through."
The Council and the Center clashed over the rule that girls should not
be permitted to work more than sixteen hours when their husbands were
on leave. The Center won, claiming it was a morale factor, and she went
back to a sixteen-hour shift.
The age to go out was lowered to fourteen and a half and it was
announced that the next class would be thirteen and a half. Boys now
were going out with half the training earlier ones had had.
When it was announced that production was catching up and that girls
might be permitted to volunteer for training she mentioned it to
Alfred. And that was the first time she ever saw his features show fear.
"No, Sue," he said. "Don't even think of it. You can't conceive of what
it is."