Page 16 of The Mars House

But at least the Consul could argue with Gale, without automatically being a horrible person.

“Of course we need immigration in Tharsis,” Gale said. That voice steamed through the microphone, never crackled. “Of course we need to help those fleeing Earth. But we must also find a way to make that safe for the five million people already here. Mandatory naturalisation after a year’s residency is a terrible thing to require; but it was required of all our ancestors, and it is the only sure way to safeguard the very things for which they made that sacrifice.”

An appreciative roar from the House Gale side of the stadium, as well as the Gale contingent of the prison guards. There was a muffled squeak from the warden, who probably wanted to stay neutral so as not to cause serious staff rifts, but they weren’t a good actor. The moderator had to wait for the noise to fade before inviting the Consul to respond.

“People suffer horribly in the naturalisation process—now that we have the technology to avoid that, nobody should have to do it,” the Consul said, looking flustered, and January wished an early and dreadful death on whoever had convinced them that two could play at throwing around statistics when they were obviously not a scary abacus person like Gale. “We can have a society where everyone functions together, Earthstrong and naturalised. Integration, proper cultural understanding, will reduce accidental homicides without hurting anyone, unlike banning cages. You don’t have any numbers that say that can’t happen.”

Belated cheers.

Gale smiled. It was apologetic, genuinely. “I have, actually.”

People laughed, and the Consul hunched even further over their lectern. Gale was straight and unmoved.

Dread settled down on top of January’s stomach.

“There is another situation—very well established and well documented—in which one set of adults mixes with another set who are generally far stronger. It’s on Earth. It’s men and women.”

Gale looked into the crowd, not at the Consul.

January felt like they were looking right at him.

“The worst genocide there has ever been in the history of the worlds is not from a war, or a slave trade. It is femicide; the murder of women. It happens everywhere, in every culture, in every time, ever. Except ours. Some of those cultures have tried very hard indeed to stop it. They can reduce it; but only reduce. Despite the very best efforts of all humanity, no one, until us, has ever stopped it entirely. So this will always happen, in any population with a huge imbalance of strength between two groups. It is why we stopped that imbalance here, it is why the first colonists deleted extreme gender traits in the DNA of their children, in the same way they deleted cancers. We all understand that it’s appallingly dangerous to have a society split so unevenly; I don’t think anyone here would dispute that. But history rhymes. If we have a society where half our population is very strong, and half is not—that’s a one-way ticket back to the twenty-first century when it wasn’t safe for half the world to walk alone at night. I am asking the strong to sacrifice something for the safety of all. What the Consul is asking is for the most vulnerable to be the sacrifice.”

The applause was a hurricane.

January wanted to run away and hide in the bathrooms,9 and he nearly did, but then he realized that imagining Gale eviscerate the Consul would be worse than watching it happen.

He didn’t want anyone to be scared. Only—and he was desperate for this to be true—the way to reassure people couldn’t be to just cripple everyone like him.

Except he couldn’t say that. He couldn’t say it. One of the people he was frightening had to say it. There was an alchemy that changed what you were saying depending on who you were, and being who he was, he would sound like he thought it was okay for people to be frightened and die rather for than him be inconvenienced, because It Was Nature. He found himself staring at the Consul, willing them to straighten up from that beaten hunch.

Come on. Get up get up get up. Don’t let it be a knockout after one round.

“Consul?” the moderator said.

The Consul was still leaning against the lectern, but something about them loosened up, and January had a tiny flutter of hope.

“Funny how you say you want the strong to be the sacrifice,” the Consul said, much more ordinarily than before, much less like they were painfully conscious of all those hundreds of thousands of people watching. “When there’s a young Earthstronger in prison now, because you couldn’t take a joke.”

Everyone in the media room looked at January, who would have liked to die.

“Not a soldier,” the Consul was saying, “or a criminal. Not someone who has ever hurt or threatened another soul. He’s a dancer. He was at the Royal Ballet before he came here and your legislation forced him into factory work and poverty. But that wasn’t enough for you. You destroyed him for being politely angry with the person who wants to make his life even harder. After a criminal conviction, he won’t be able to get work without naturalising. That dancer is going to have to cripple himself, because you’re too precious to see sarcasm. Now . . . you have all the money in the worlds. All the power, the education, all the privilege and advantages any human being can possibly want—but you want to say January Stirling is the strong one here? Is he really?”

A visceral roar of agreement tore through the stadium, through the House Song supporters among the guards, and from most of the prisoners. Someone banged January’s shoulder, and the serial dognapper scruffed up his hair.

“I didn’t know he was in prison,” Gale said quietly. “Is that true?”

The Consul actually laughed. “Drop it, of course you know. Just admit that you want to cripple anyone who’s stronger than you because they generally worry you. And then can we talk that out? Because it needs talking out. I’m stronger than you. Should I be sent to prison for arguing with you? I could reach across and hurt you if I wanted, I was a soldier, I reckon I could take you.”

People laughed. The Consul was twice Gale’s width; they had been a general in the army before they were Consul.

“By your logic, children get the last say, because they’re the weakest and therefore no one should ever argue with them. You’re confusing actual violence with the physical capacity for violence. They aren’t the same. January Stirling isn’t the person who attacked you in Gagarin Square, but you treated him like he was. We all understand why, and we all have every sympathy, but horrific actions by a few people can’t condemn an entire world, and if you think they should—then I’m sorry, but you need to get yourself some therapy, rather than insisting on a policy that will cripple thousands of people.”

Gale said nothing.

“Senator, would you like to respond?” the moderator said, above the roar of the crowd.

“No,” Gale said. “I don’t have the facts, I’ll have to look into it later, and . . . thank the Consul for being more on top of the news than I am.” They bowed slightly to the Consul.