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Updated: July 7, 2025
We are all descended from a common source all one 'family' in reality. You see, our comparatively brief and limited history gives us that advantage at least." "But does not each mother want her own child to bear her name?" I asked. "No why should she? The child has its own." "Why for for identification so people will know whose child she is." "We keep the most careful records," said Somel.
"What is 'the home'?" asked Somel a little wistfully. But Zava begged: "Tell me first, do NO women work, really?" "Why, yes," Terry admitted. "Some have to, of the poorer sort." "About how many in your country?" "About seven or eight million," said Jeff, as mischievous as ever. Comparisons Are Odious I had always been proud of my country, of course. Everyone is.
We were now well used to seeing women not as females but as people; people of all sorts, doing every kind of work. This outbreak of Terry's, and the strong reaction against it, gave us a new light on their genuine femininity. This was given me with great clearness by both Ellador and Somel. The feeling was the same sick revulsion and horror, such as would be felt at some climactic blasphemy.
We want you to see our people." "And I assure you," Somel added, "that our people want to see you." Terry brightened up immensely at this news, and reconciled himself to the renewed demands upon our capacity as teachers. It was lucky that we knew so little, really, and had no books to refer to, else, I fancy we might all be there yet, teaching those eager-minded women about the rest of the world.
The reason for my own comparative success was at first far from pleasing to my pride. "We like you the best," Somel told me, "because you seem more like us." "More like a lot of women!" I thought to myself disgustedly, and then remembered how little like "women," in our derogatory sense, they were. She was smiling at me, reading my thought. "We can quite see that we do not seem like women to you.
"Ladies," Terry began, out of a clear sky, as it were, "are there no men in this country?" "Men?" Somel answered. "Like you?" "Yes, men," Terry indicated his beard, and threw back his broad shoulders. "Men, real men." "No," she answered quietly. "There are no men in this country. There has not been a man among us for two thousand years."
"Thousands in a large city," said Jeff, "and nearly every family has one in the country." Terry broke in at this. "You must not imagine they are all dangerous it's not one in a hundred that ever bites anybody. Why, they are the best friends of the children a boy doesn't have half a chance that hasn't a dog to play with!" "And the girls?" asked Somel.
But we could not get out, and we were being educated swiftly. Our special tutors rose rapidly in our esteem. They seemed of rather finer quality than the guards, though all were on terms of easy friendliness. Mine was named Somel, Jeff's Zava, and Terry's Moadine. We tried to generalize from the names, those of the guards, and of our three girls, but got nowhere.
"We had, in the very old days, these," said Somel, and sketched with swift sure touches a sort of sheep or llama, "and these" dogs, of two or three kinds, "that that" pointing to my absurd but recognizable horse. "What became of them?" asked Jeff. "We do not want them anymore. They took up too much room we need all our land to feed our people. It is such a little country, you know."
Somel explained: "We find that in all your historic period, so much longer than ours, that with all the interplay of services, the exchange of inventions and discoveries, and the wonderful progress we so admire, that in this widespread Other World of yours, there is still much disease, often contagious." We admitted this at once.
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