Umria could not believe what she was hearing.
     "The dumb are easier to rule," repeated the Council president.
     Her father's voice strained as he answered, "I thought it's the divided who are easier to rule."
     "The dumb are the divided," said President Dynukan and laughed.
     The men spoke inside the house, in her father's study, while her mother hosted a tea party in the glass house at the far end of the garden. Umria and sister Meena sat on the tree swing, mid-way between the study and the glass house. The President proposed standardising women's outfits and sought her father's view on the legal repercussions. Umria felt guilty that she could hear their conversation. She and Meena had been banished from the study the moment the President's driver knocked on the front door. The sisters had earlier been ejected from the tea party because the discussion had become inappropriate for adolescents. This incensed Meena who has been an adult for a good two years, but seriously, no one treated her as such.
     Umria leaned into Meena and paraphrased what she had heard. Meena leapt off the swing, sending Umria swaying around the night oak. Meena hurried towards her father's study, with Umria a step behind.
     "You can't go in there," said Umria.
     Her sister paused and frowned. "This is serious. A man deciding women's outfits? I don’t think so." She stalked the bushes leading to the study as Umria turned for the glass house. If the rumours about Dynukan were true, then Meena would be in serious trouble if she got caught.
     Umria entered the glass house where several middle-aged women lounged in cane chairs sipping their teas. Floral arrangements and short eats filled the small dining table. Her mother was unboxing her new saree to show her friends.
     Umria smiled at the elegantly dressed ladies and knelt beside her mother and whispered.
     "The president!?" her mother cried, getting to her feet.
     Umria stood. "Yes, he stopped by on the way, but Meena –" 
     A deafening smash rang out as the back window shattered. A leathery crimson ball crashed onto the table, sending flowers and salad leaves flying everywhere. The women screamed and leapt to their feet as the ball unfurled. Everyone froze once they realised what had landed on the table.
     Umria stepped closer to the frightened little reptilian.
     "Stay away from it!" cried her mother.
     "Do you know what that is?" cried two ladies in unison.
     Umria nodded and drew a deep breath. If this baby was anything like the angoria she had encountered three weeks ago, then it should be responsive to her emotions. Umria focused on calming herself and amplified the pitiful and compassionate feelings already coursing through her. She stepped closer to the angoria pup and unfurled her fingers. Everyone remained still and quiet.
     With two tails in place of hind legs, the baby crawled on its front legs to Umria. It stopped centimetres from her fingers and looked up. Umria gently scooped the pup and cradled it in her arms. She glanced at the hole in the window. Someone, or something must have thrown the poor little creature.
     Umria's mother spoke in a hushed tone, "What will you do now?"
     Umria stepped out into the garden and heard Meena scream.
     Her sister sprinted away from the house, with an adult Angoria bounding after her – that would be the pup's mother. The glistening, crimson creature, the size of a massive dog, hissed as it gave chase. Despite relying on forelimbs and two tails for propulsion, the angoria was gaining on Meena.
     "Drop!" cried Umria, "drop to the ground."
     Meena ran, horror plastered on her face, and stumbled on a branch. She fell flat just as the adult angoria took to the air. The creature deployed its winglets along its long neck and back to glide towards Meena. Umria released the pup onto the grass and staggered back towards the glass house.
     The adult angoria flew over Meena and landed in front of its baby, which scrambled under its mother and into her pouch.
     Meena bolted back towards the house and crashed into her father, who was hurrying out of the back door.
     The angoria hissed at Umria and galloped to the back wall. It stopped and turned, as though it recognised her, before clambering over the stone bricks and disappeared. It had to be the same angoria she had encountered at One Flow. Except that was a male, unless she was mistaken. It was hard to tell with angoria.
     Umria and her mother hurried to Meena, who wiped away tears as her father consoled her. She seemed fine, except for the dirt and grass covering her dress.
     Umria strode along the side of the glass house to the fence as her father followed her. The party guests had locked themselves inside and huddled in a corner.
     "Someone threw the angoria pup through the window," Umria told her father as he approached, "what a horrible thing to do."
     "Is that what that noise was?" said her father, "perhaps it flew in."
     "Baby angoria can't fly," said Umria as she hopped and leaned over the tall fence. The thicket on the other side stretched several meters to the ink stream running between the fence and the neighbour's house. A passer-by could have thrown the pup and escaped. Umria spotted President Dynukan in the front yard, entering his fancy new car. The big red machine, decorated in gold bodywork, was only the third car imported into Mavipra. It looked like a palace on wheels. The driver, dressed in a flowing rose gold robe and a matching helmet concealing his face, stood stiffly as he held the door for Dynukan.
     "Since when do drivers salute Dynukan?" said Umria hopping back onto the grass.
     "He's not a driver," said her father, "he's a presidential guard, but darling, you're hurt!" he pointed to the bloody streaks in her right palm. She felt no pain, and in the absence of any cuts, she assumed it was the blood from the angoria pup.
     
                                                                                              ***

The family locked themselves in the study that evening. Umria's mother even shut the curtains. The news of an angoria on the loose spread like wildfire through Mavipra. Just as well, an angoria with an injured baby would be dangerous.
     "What a horrible afternoon," said her mother, "is it the angoria you saw at One Flow?"
     "It could be, except they returned it to the wild, and that was supposedly a male. I'll visit Anika tomorrow and ask."
     "Stay home young lady," said her father, "the detective work can wait until they catch that creature."
     That made sense. Although, angorias should not attack people unless threatened.
     "In the meantime," said Meena turning to her father, "what's this about standardising women's clothing?"
     Her father raised his brows and smiled embarrassingly. He admitted to the president's mission to modernise Mavipra, and women's clothing was apparently a part of his plans.
     "That's outrageous," cried Meena, "but it was coming, the way Dynukan behaves like an emperor."
     "I see sense in the proposal," said Umria's mother, "our outfits are a bit simple and boring."
     "They're just clothes," said Umria "surely, we're more than that."
     "Besides, he can't introduce such a law on his own," added Meena, "it needs council approval."
     Her father frowned at the ground. He revealed the president's boldest plan yet. Dynukan sought to become authoritor, to give himself powers to bypass the council, composed of seven men duly elected since time immemorial.
     "I don’t like the look of those guards he has employed," her father added, "they look like two well-dressed thugs."
     Umria recollected the guard from earlier in the day. The large blade at the top of his polearm was ornately engraved and sprouted a red sash. He remained the only suspect in that horrendous act. Hopefully, the pup's injuries were minor.
     Umria had become so lost in thought that her mother had to tap her on the shoulder and repeat her question, "What are you going to do with your life, Umria? School starts next week, and you must choose a specialisation. And you need to decide about spending more time at One Flow."
     "How about a musician?" said Umria's father, "you hum beautifully."
     She loved music, but it would not be enough to keep her fully occupied.
     Umria shrugged. Returning to One Flow was appealing, but she wished not to burden her parents with the costs. "I can be like you mum," she said.
     "I'm not sure a stay-at-home mum has much future," her mother said.
     "Especially if Dynukan has his way," muttered Umria's father.
     "Don’t get me wrong," said her mother, "I love raising you girls and building our little neighbourhood community. It's better than some workplaces these days, which aren't exactly conducive to making you a friendly or a loving person."
     "Umria can be an animal whisperer," said Meena and laughed. "She's shown impressive skills with angoria."

​

                                                                                            ***

​

Umria arrived downstairs to find her parents stony faced at the breakfast table. Food was laid out beautifully as always, except no fresh flowers for the vase. Her mother was the cautious type at the best of times and an angoria on the loose meant it was a wonder she had opened the curtains at all. A note sat atop an open envelope in front of her father.
     Umria's parents told her that the Constable had visited early in the morning, informing them that the angoria had swum across the ink river that circumvented the village. The creature was tracked until it moved past the Fields Aflame and towards the ocean.
     "Is the baby okay?" asked Umria pulling up a chair.
     "Not sure," said her mother, placing a plate in front of Umria, "but animals like that don’t care about their offspring, not like us. Anyway, it's a huge relief that we can go outside."
     "So, that's good news."
     Umria's parents looked at each other. Her dad flashed a tight-lipped smile and ran his fingers along the embossing on the note.
     "President Dynukan is paying for the broken window," he said.
     "But that's more good news."
     Meena made her way downstairs and her father unfolded the note. He asked Meena to take a seat. This must be important.
     President Dynukan was offering Umria and Meena a trip to Pellago.
     The sisters' excitement waned as their father continued reading the note. The purpose for the visit was to select the outfits that would become standard for Mavipran women.
     Meena folded her arms. "I can't believe he's charging ahead with this. Pellago is a superficial dump. I'm not going."
     "Yes, he's quite unlike his mother," Umria's mother muttered.
     "Why? Who is his mother?" asked Umria.
     "It's not well known, but it's Anika from One Flow."
     "Well," Umria's father held up the note, "the President has invited you girls and other ladies from the village for a discussion this evening. It's an opportunity to listen to his view and put forward your own, but" her father got to his feet, "you must conduct yourself with decorum and maturity," he looked at Meena, "please think before you speak and," he turned to Umria, "and think before you act."
     "Keep an open mind and not try to simply debate," said Umria's mother, "we'd rather not anger the president unnecessarily."
     Umria headed outside soon after breakfast to inspect the thicket around the back fence. Maybe she will become a detective; solving mysteries had its own joys. The undergrowth at a large tree formed a tunnel like entrance and the grass leading to the area was flattened. It could be the angoria's nest. Umria crept closer and observed for several minutes. She watched, listened, and even smelled the air for that distinctive metallic odour of angoria.
     She scanned for footprints, but the only imprint out of place was a triangular impression in the dirt.
     
                                                                                            ***
     
Umria still had several hours before her meeting with the president, so she headed to One Flow. She was greeted by Anika, who ran the school with her husband, the Grand Principal. He, however, was away for a week, visiting relatives.
     The moment Umria stepped into Anika's home, her attention was drawn to a painting of a woman in an iridescent blue saree with a small child, maybe four years old. It was likely Anika and Dynukan.
     Umria eased into the chair across from Anika and detailed the encounter with the angoria the previous day.
     "We released the angoria in the same spot from where it was taken," said Anika, "but our guards did say there were no other angoria in the area. Perhaps, the colony had migrated and our angoria returned to Mavipra."
     "Also, wasn't our angoria, male?"
     "Yes, angoria can switch when the population dwindles, and the one we had would have just reached adolescence," said Anika, "hopefully it has found its colony by now."
     "Were all the animals held at One Flow released?" said Umria and Anika smiled. She walked past the painting and held aside a curtain to a small room. A large mound of blue choir butterflies occupied a table. The exotic insects had been encaged in glass containers with breathing holes, except now they were free. Anika explained that despite the open window, they remained stuck to the wooden post.
     "Learned helplessness," said Anika as she released the curtain, "but I'm told when the weather warms in about a week, they should flutter away. I can't wait to have my table back. They churn out a beautiful tune when they greet spring. Have you heard choir butterflies?"
     "Yes luckily. Our teacher took us to the forest once, just to hear the beautiful chorus, it had a definite tune. It's amazing how such tiny brains can perform so much."
     "Makes you wonder if we're making the most of our so-called evolved brains," Anika sat, "perhaps you should speak to the butterflies Umria, to make them fly away. You have a knack with animals. Now," Anika sat up, "have you thought about your future? Who you want to be? You're welcome to continue with us of course."
     "Still trying to decide," said Umria, "any advice?"
     "Oh, let me see. What excites you, but also feels like you can do forever?"
     That was an interesting way to look at it. Frankly Umria could not think of anything fitting those criteria. She brushed back her hair as Anika herself became lost in thought.
     "Discovering new things is exciting," said Umria, "I'd like to solve mysteries, know how everything works, meaning of life," she giggled. "perhaps get to the ultimate answer where there'll be no more questions."
     "That's a worthy ambition. Most people are forced to rush through life, stopping them from deeply pondering the big questions, like the workings of the mind or why we die, just becoming entangled in the everyday pleasures and pains. I mean, we're the only creatures on the planet capable of cracking these big and ultimate questions. A great opportunity to truly uncover what it all means," she sighed, "I can't talk, I did the same until a I realised that in the grand scheme of this universe my worries and ambitions were insignificant."
     "We could of course waste a lifetime and never answer the ultimate questions."
     Anika smiled and nodded. "True, so have fun along the way. But whatever you do, don’t waste time. We more regret the things we didn’t do than the things we did. I personally would have been more ambitious and better helped our community."
     Umria glanced at the clock and then the painting.
     "Is that Dynukan in the painting, your son?" said Umria.
     Anika raised her brows. "Yes, with my mother. She was a talented singer. He loved her singing, and when she stopped, he bawled his eyes out," Anika rubbed her hands slowly, "my mother practically raised Dynukan, while I got caught up in my work. I'm doing my best to make up for it now. Except of course now, he is busy."
     Umria reluctantly told Anika about Dynukan's plan to standardise women's clothing. Perhaps that was a bad idea. Anika's face dropped, but she pasted on a smile and said nothing further. Hopefully, it would not lead to a family feud.

​

                                                                                                ***

​

Dynukan had relocated his residence to the newly built Palatian. The polished stone blocks of the big round building shimmered in the sunset. A tree canopy sprouted through the middle of the roof and a spire rose through the middle of the canopy with a lookout. Umria could not think of anyone wanting to invade Mavipra to justify a lookout. An ink stream ran straight through the front garden and towards the arched main door. The stream continued under the marble stairs and into the building.
     The sisters reached the large door and stood beside an empty guard house, which once again seemed unwarranted for a quiet village like Mavipra.
     "Should we knock?" asked Meena worriedly scanning the gardens, "hopefully the other women are already inside."
     Umria turned the heavy, iron handle and the door effortlessly swung open.
     The sisters entered a dimly lit and vast circular hall. The air was pleasantly cool. The ink stream flowed through the middle of the hall and split in either direction to form a moat around a circular stone island. Dynukan sat in the middle of the island on a masterfully crafted tree. The copper fig had been pruned and shaped to form a throne with its branches continuing into the ceiling. That was a living tree, its canopy was what protruded through the roof. Behind the island lay a curving sandstone wall with a red curtain to either side of the tree throne.
     Dynukan sat majestically, each hand on the arm rest of his very natural throne.
     He gestured the sisters to come closer.
     Meena muttered through gritted teeth, "What are we, servants?"
     Umria thought to stand her ground, but remembered what her father had said, about being civil. The sisters walked alongside the ink channel towards the President.
     "Welcome," he said, "the two other ladies I had invited have a fever or perhaps," He lowered his voice, "a fear." He pointed at their tunics. "Nice to see you two are wearing something more practical than what our grandmothers did."
     Meena frowned as the sisters stopped at the moat's edge. The only way across was from behind the tree, where two wooden bridges extended from the circular island to each red curtain. This man must be paranoid. If he insisted on acting like an emperor, his enemies would naturally emerge, from his own village.
     "You girls are the next generation," he said commandingly, "and you two aren't the timid types. Coming from an upstanding family and well connected, I'd like you to go to Pellago and choose the outfits to set the standards for our village."
Meena brushed her palm on her tunic and said, "Why not the men’s clothes?"
     Dynukan got to his feet. "Fair question, but as you know, there isn't much variation in men's clothing, and their outfits are already conducive to a commercial environment. Don’t underestimate the extent to which fashion shapes the attitude of a population. Mavipra must ditch this soft-hearted mindset and be more ambitious and competitive. That's why places like Pellago are economic powerhouses. I have two reasons for why I'm doing this," he said raising his fingers, "firstly, our population growth means we'll exhaust our resources in another generation, and sadly, that'll mean we'll turn on each other."
     "Is it the population, or our lifestyle?" said Umria, "surely, we don’t need to drive big cars or eat excessively."
     Whoops, two bad examples, thought Umria.
     Dynukan narrowed his eyes at Umria and crossed his arms at his stomach. "The fact is, the world is developing quickly, and unless we foster a commercial and competitive mindset, we'll be left behind, or invaded and exploited," he raised two fingers, "and secondly, I understand a commercial mindset can lead to us competing with each other. So Mavipra must stay united. And that which runs common to us, and easy and obvious, is our territory and indeed our clothes. Think of the standardised dress as the flag that keeps us united."
     Umria glanced at her sister, who was clenching her jaw. Perhaps she was following father's advice, to think before speaking.
     "I suppose clothes are easy and obvious," said Umria, "but they're not accurate as to what someone's actually like or what they're feeling."
     Meena piped up, "Easy and obvious is for those who are mentally tired or lazy is what's she's saying."
     Dynukan glared at Meena, who smiled uncomfortably.
     He turned to Umria, "Okay, what's your suggestion for keeping Maviprans motivated and united?"
     Umria had to think fast. "We can foster those mindsets, like the sense of oneness, having common external goals, organising inspiring events and festivals," said Umria.
     "See that's the problem," said Dynukan and smirked. "That's more work than getting everyone to wear the same outfit. Not everyone has a fancy imagination to conjure up emotions at will. Don’t get me wrong, I want Maviprans to develop their intelligence. I'm intolerant of stupidity."
     Meena whispered, "So, you're allergic to yourself then."
     Dynukan shot her a look, he could not have heard her, but he must have read her expression or sensed Umria's suppressed laughter.
     He pointed at Umria with his open hand, and said, "And Umria who do you want to be in life? You'll be a fully grown woman in a few years."
     Great, now Dynukan was on her case as well. She blurted out what she thought was worthy, "A teacher."
     Dynukan smirked. "Ah yes, I hear you're the sister who's good with children, but you're far more capable than that. I'd like our women to have bigger ambitions. Perhaps even enter politics." Umria heard a faint snort from behind one of the red curtains.
     "The fact is girls," continued Dynukan, "whether you like it or not, someone is dictating the way you dress. It may be your family, peers, or influential people in the community. But ultimately, the world trends are set by fashion experts in faraway lands like Pellago. They have impeccable tastes and it's time Mavipra discarded the village mentality and embraced progress. That's why a visit to Pellago will broaden your mind."
     Meena whispered, "to fill it with their mindless garbage."
     "Study how they run things there," he continued, "perhaps you can model the outfits for us once you return." He smiled.
     Meena's eyes narrowed. "I can't see Maviprans accepting a law forcing women to wear the same outfits."
     Dynukan laughed. "Of course, we can't make it law. We will simply create an environment for certain styles to be more available than others and favour influential people to wear particular outfits."
     Meena's eyes flared. "That's trickery."
     Dynukan frowned and turned his lips. "That's reality. You have much to learn about how the world actually works. So best to embrace it. Now, I have another appointment so best wishes and my staff will contact you with the details."
     Umria turned to Meena and rolled her eyes at the door. Meena frowned, frantically readying for another argument and Umria noticed movement behind the red curtains. The curtains lit with the silhouettes of the presidential guards, each holding a polearm.
     Meena gulped and Umria turned for the door. She stopped and turned back to Dynukan. "Do you know who threw the baby angoria into our glass house?"
     Dynukan shook his head. "It probably miscalculated its jump.
     "It's a baby. They can't jump."
     Dynukan glared and showed her the door.
     Umria glanced at the silhouette of the guards, their shoes. It was difficult to see, but they could well be wearing stiff, pointed boots. The type to leave a triangular footprint.
     The sisters hurried down the marble stairs and alongside the ink channel. Umria felt Dynukan had attempted to sow division between herself and Meena. It was probably not deliberate. In marsh apes, when the alpha male's position was threatened, he would sow division through favouritism to ensure the lesser males didn’t gang up and overthrow him. This once again reminded her that nature, the Wild, was not in some faraway place, but right inside, within everyone, running, and at times ruining their lives. She must understand how it all worked. The way every behaviour was guided or directed by a set of pre-programmed rewards or pains. One of those big questions in life.
     Meena glanced back at the Palatian. "I'm surprised he didn’t ask us to kneel," she shook her head, "and that tree throne, I wished a bird was in the canopy and plopped a present on his big head."
     The copper fig reminded Umria of the, 'I' tree inside a lecture hall at One Flow, a reminder that the sense of self must include nature. Except of course Dynukan had crafted and manipulated his, 'I' tree to the extent he probably thought it was no longer under nature's control, but he oversaw nature. Here was another big question, 'Who am I?' or 'Who I should become?' as everyone kept asking her.

​

                                                                                             ***

​

Umria arrived downstairs the following morning to find her parents once again, stony faced at the breakfast table. She thought she and Meena had painted a heartening picture of the meeting with Dynukan.
     Perhaps the Constable had dropped in with news on the angoria – an envelope lay pressed under her father's hand.
     Her parents reported that councillor Boznar had stopped by earlier. He and councillor Chyun would take Umria and Meena to Pellago for a day trip.
     "It's not proper," said Umria's mother, "two young girls accompanying middle-aged men."
     "They're respected Councillors," Umria's father countered.
     Meena arrived downstairs sporting a grin. She clapped on hearing the news. "I was thinking about this last night," she said, "this is my chance to change the way the council runs and stop Dynukan becoming authoritor."
     Umria's father coughed into his tea.
     "Dynukan's open to the idea of women in politics," said Meena, "we can inject more compassion and kindness."
     "You may go in with good intentions," said Umria's father wiping his face with a napkin, "but the system will corrupt you. Female leaders have been just as brutal, if not worse than men. Don’t underestimate how the system will change you."
     The family spent the next forty minutes engrossed in the pros and cons of travelling to Pellago. Umria's mother was concerned for the girls' reputation and safety and her father was also concerned about the president's reaction should his offer be rejected.

​

                                                                                              ***

​

Umria and Meena accompanied councillors Chyun and Boznar to the ferry terminal at the Halo coast.  Umria had seen the councillors around the village before, and they had always been friendly and polite. Councillor Chyun stated the two objectives in Pellago: to visit a fashion consultant to select suitable outfits for Mavipran women, and the councillors would meet officials to learn how Pellago was governed.
     The bright yellow ferry arrived on time and silently docked at the terminal. The completely automated machines, operated by the technologically advanced nation of Bowren Tiers, carried hundreds of passengers, and skimmed the waters at tremendous speeds. Yet the ride was comfortable, even in the general class cabin, where the sisters and the councillors sat.
     "The angoria was spotted lurking outside the village," Councillor Boznar told Chyun as they both settled into their seats behind the sisters.
     "Is the pup okay?" asked Umria, turning around.
     "Not sure, but we've called in specialist animal trappers. And the presidential guards may join the hunt. I guess they'll either trap the beast or exterminate it."
     "That's unnecessary," cried Umria.
     "You must be practical. Angorias are dangerous," said Councillor Chyun.
     "What's with those guards?" said Meena, "why are they masked and armed? Doesn’t seem like they even talk."
     The councillors looked at each other. Boznar shrugged and Chyun looked out the window.
     "Well, can I speak to the guards?" asked Umria, "one of them may have seen something when the angoria pup crashed through our glass house."
     "What? No, best you keep away from them," said Chyun.
     The trip to Pellago would take three hours, and Umria practiced conjuring up a peaceful state as per her training at One Flow. She controlled her breathing at the same time she hummed to match the drone of the engines.
     "Tch, are you pretending to be a ferry?" said Meena.
     "Being calm." Umria smiled.
     Meena looked out the window. Then turned to Umria. "Your time at One Flow seemed to have helped. You're a bit more with it these days."
     The ferry smoothly decelerated as it approached the port of Pellago. The city glistened in the distance in amongst the sandy hills.
     Umria sat up when the stern detached and hinged up, above the rest of the ferry as it docked against the terminal. The general class passenger section docked beneath the business class passengers above. Perhaps this was an indication of the class distinction in Pellago.
     "Oh, I submitted the meeting agenda to the ministry of governance," Boznar told Chyun, "I thought you may have had some trouble."
     Chyun raised his brows. The president had informed Boznar that Chyun had forgotten to send the agenda to Pellago, but Chyun was unaware he had been tasked with that submission. The councillors continued their boring discussions on council procedures and what they could learn from the Pellago Government.
     Pellago was pristine and glitzy. Red carpets lay in place of sidewalks and locals dressed like models. The men were big and muscular and swung their shoulders as they strutted. The women were tall and some muscular. They pounded the carpet on exotic footwear, more suited to a jewellery store. People narrowed their eyes and pouted their lips whenever they caught another's attention, and some twirled when they turned corners. The little greenery that remained was manicured to perfection, in the shape of Pellago's well-proportioned citizens.
     "Is this for real?" said Meena, "surely they're acting?"
     Even the buildings were well dressed, including several shaped like ball gowns. Beauty shops were everywhere, including offering surgical procedures to alter skin tones, remove ribs or extend limbs.
     Umria jumped as a waiter shot past her on wheeled footwear, carrying a glittering bun and colourfully arranged condiments. The massive meals were no doubt necessary for the bigger people.
     "Everyone looks serious and unfriendly," said Meena.
     Umria noticed something else. No children in sight. They were probably in school.
     The councillors directed the sisters into an alley where a long display screen lay in place of a footpath and advertised everything from fashion, food to luxury furniture. Walking on the moving images unnerved the sisters, while the councillors put on a serious face and marched ahead.
     "These advertisements seem innocuous," said Councillor Chyun, "but they're a powerful way to influence and shape a community. They stir the emotions and sneak in a message," he stopped by a small shop, "now, let's see what outfits they can offer Mavipran women." He glanced at Umria and Meena's tunics and smiled. Just as Meena opened her mouth, Chyun entered the automatic doors to the sound of a woman greeting in a slow, low tone, "Welcome, to Stylizo."
     The store was named after the owner, Stylizo, who greeted everyone in the same voice as the door. She was impeccably dressed in a maroon suit and flared white pants. Her red, platform heels forced her to walk in small steps with her knees lifting excessively so the heels cleared the floor. Her eye shadow appeared blue or glittering green depending on the angle from which she was viewed.
     The councillors exchanged pleasantries while Umria and Meena scanned the white and gold themed interior. A large red curtain hung at the back of the shop and large screens advertised more fashion. Umria wondered if this would be the equivalent of eating too many sweets, Pellagoans being emotionally overdriven by the constant rich and colourful advertising.
     "Now," said Stylizo clapping, "to business," she pointed to the red curtain, "these are the styles your president has ordered."
     The councillors looked at each other before alerting Stylizo that no outfits had been chosen. In the ensuing discussion it became apparent that Dynukan had already chosen the outfits. Stylizo raised a brow and pressed a button on a small panel in her hand. The red curtains shivered, glittered and blared thumping music as a red carpet rolled out from beneath. The curtains parted to flashing lights while Meena jumped to avoid being runover by the unfurling carpet.
     A tall woman strutted out, sporting an expressionless face. She wore a blue suit which flowed like a cloak and had a small cape at the back.
     She arrogantly twirled and strode back as another model appeared at the top of the carpet. This woman, also tall and strongly built, wore an outfit full of sharp angles and muted colours to convey the assertive and competitive mindset Dynukan no doubt desired. The model pounded her heels as she strode, her expression switching between sullenness and contempt.
     The councillors nodded, keeping beat with the music and Meena leaned into Umria and whispered, "She's bouncing like she sat on something uncomfortable."
     Umria giggled and Stylizo shot her a displeased look.
     Meena whispered commentary on the expressions of the models as they strode out one by one.
     "This model just heard she's going to prison," whispered Meena.
     "This one's been told she can't remove her brain to lose weight."
     "She smelled something awful."
     "Oh, and this one ate it."
     "What is that expression? Oh, I see, she's been asked to smile after stubbing her toe."
     "She's got nothing much on, just like inside her head. That's way too revealing for Mavipra. How could you take someone like that seriously?"
     "This one's imitating a cat with indigestion."
     "And this one's wearing one. Can you imagine how silly a furry hat in Mavipra is?
     Meena raised her voice above the music, "Don’t heels damage the body?"
     "We all make sacrifices for fashion," said Stylizo, "heels give you height to match your male counterparts."
     "They also make your hips role," muttered Meena.
     Stylizo frowned. "As we say in Pellago, no heels no respect." She pressed on the panel and the music faded into the background. "Certain styles and expressions command respect. That's why our models don't smile like little girls. Smiling is a weakness, for when you want to be taken seriously, when you want to be respected. And remember, respect demands a tinge of fear."
     "I'd say it's grace and elegance that commands respect," said Meena, "not acting tough, scary or desperate."
     The councillors shot Meena a look.
     "And that's for everyone, men or women," said Councillor Boznar, "one must be cool and calm."
     Chyun nodded. "Yes, in control of your emotions."
     Meena frowned. "I'm not going to dress like a man, nor dress for a man," said Meena, "besides, the president has already chosen the outfits." She marched out of the shop and the door sounded Stylizo's voice, "Thank you, stay stylish."
     Umria smiled uncomfortably as the Councillors shook their heads. They apologised to Stylizo and Umria decided it was best for her to leave too.
     
     ***

Meena stood outside, her arms folded at the chest and grinning at each passer-by. Most ignored her and others smirked and still some smiled.
     The councillors exited the shop and Chyun turned to Meena and said, "Please get a hold of yourself. We could have been more polite."
     The councillors shook their heads and led the way towards a train station.
     The rest of the trip would be unpleasant if this continued. Umria's heart thumped faster, and her temperature rose. She frantically put into practice what she had learned at One Flow. She acknowledged the emotion and focused on raising her threshold for pain. A crude, but simple technique. She vividly imagined herself becoming resilient as she tensed and relaxed her bigger muscles in harmony with her breathing. She had to follow a specific sequence, because as her masters at One Flow had said, 'It's a piece of music and you are the instrument.' She felt she played the tune satisfactorily, but it was much easier in the training environment of One Flow than in the real world.
     The Maviprans entered an empty cubicle to wait for the train. Half the wall panels were mirrors. Perhaps people missed their trains while inspecting themselves.
     "I'm sorry for earlier," Meena told the councillors, "it's just that," she glanced outside at a man devouring a roll as big as his arm, "why is it that women are dressing like men, and not the other way? Clearly, we're acknowledging that what traditionally men do and the way they dress is more valued or superior. This has nothing to do with Mavipra running out of resources."
     Fearing another argument, Umria piped up, "If we're worried about resources, perhaps we can reduce the meal sizes, then people will be smaller, perhaps healthier and then you'll have smaller roads, smaller houses, less clothes –"
     "Speaking of less clothes," Meena scrunched her face and pointed to a woman in what seemed like a bathing suit. It was the type of outfit that would have Maviprans covering their children's eyes and running indoors.
     Meena shook her head and Boznar said, "You're feeling threatened, while she's probably feeling empowered."
     "Empowered? I suppose it's a coincidence that its entertaining for men," said Meena, "and making people feel threatened isn’t great for a community," Meena glanced at the woman, "besides, it's not like she's advertising her brains or kindness of heart. Would you be happy if all Maviprans walked around naked?"
     The smiles on the councillors vanished.
     "Sorry," said Meena, "but it shows that there is a point at which it's going to cause social disharmony, we just don’t know where that limit is. It's reckless to simply adopt another society's fashion overnight."
     "So, what are you suggesting?" said Boznar, "that all Mavipran women wear sarees?"
     "It's quite practical in the heat," said Meena, "tapering layers with air gaps. Nature employs a similar design in giant honey ant mounds…" The councillors had become distracted by the woman who now stood in front of the cubicle.
     "Ugh!" Meena groaned, "why can't men control themselves?"
     "And why not women?" snapped Boznar, "the desire to flaunt and attract? Remember that too is a primitive instinct."
     Umria leapt in before the argument escalated, "It shows we're all affected by these primal emotions which ripple through our community from person to person. A good reason to work together, calmly and intelligently, as people, not males and females. Or we'll be another divided community."
     "Oh, thank you grand saint, swami the enlightened," said Boznar.
     "She's got a point though," said Chyun.
     Yes, it's a good point, thought Umria, to pay attention to the truth irrespective of who says it. She thought to say this out aloud, but bit her tongue.
     Boznar apologised for snapping at her. He turned away from the woman outside and said, "So Umria, who do you want to be? What career?"
     What? Him too? At least the change of topic presented a welcome diversion to the arguing.
     She enjoyed the fashion show, despite its underlying intent. Perhaps organising community events could be a viable vocation.
     "Maybe she can become a politician," muttered Meena.
     "That's no place for a lady," said Boznar, turning to Umria, "I mean…"
     "It's an option," said Chyun, "as long as you aim higher than a housewife."
     Meena scrunched her face.
     Great! Back to arguing.
     "There's nothing wrong being a home maker," snapped Meena, "keeping families together is crucial. Look what's happening in this place. They're all superficial and sullen. I bet there's no depth to their connections, everything is a business relationship – doing something and expecting something in return."
     Umria felt bad for her mother. "That's true and my mum helped foster neighbourhood communities. That, is a good way to keep a community united, if the president is worried about that." 
     The train arrived and Chyun rose to his feet, "Alright, look," he said, "Councillor Boznar and I will visit the Pellago ministry of governance. After that we'll head straight home. Goodness knows it has been an eventful trip already."
     The rail journey took twenty minutes and not a word was spoken. The train carriage was luxurious with gilded fittings and plush, massage seats. Umria took the opportunity to practice playing various tunes with her body as she observed the passing scenery. The neighbourhood steadily declined in extravagance and the people less glamorous. The odd ostentatious building remained, but nothing compared to the city in which they had been.
     
                                                                                              ***

​

"Please wait here," said Chyun, "we'll be out in forty minutes."
     Meena and Umria sat in the opulent and empty waiting area of the ministry of governance. After several minutes of silence, Umria was struck by a peculiar thought. Would this present moment matter when she reached old age? In two hundred years she would be lucky if anyone remembered her, and ten thousand years no one would even know or care that Mavipra and Pellago existed. And what would it be in a million years?
     "What are you doing?" said Meena sitting up.
     "Just having a look," said Umria approaching the automatic doors, "people aren't well off around here."
     Meena hurried after her sister. "Don’t go too far. I saw several unsavoury characters about."
     They descended the stairs and stood at the street corner.
     Umria felt a tap on the back of her leg. She turned to find a little beggar girl, her hand outstretched, face scarred and dirty and tangled hair.
Meena jumped and cried, "Shoo," at the girl, who staggered back.
"Sorry, sorry," said Meena and smiled at the beggar girl.
     "What's your name?" said Umria. The beggar reached and felt the end of Umria's tunic. Umria ran the back of her hand along the little girl's face and she shivered. Her eyes brightened and she smiled.
     Meena whispered to Umria, "She may have a disease."
     Umria nodded as the beggar wrapped the long tunic around herself and giggled silently. She stepped out and looked at Umria.
     "Do you live around here? Your family?" said Umria.
     The girl repeatedly moved her hand to her mouth, gesturing she was hungry.
     No food shops were in sight. Not that Umria had money to buy anything. She removed her gold bangle and gave it to the girl. Her eyes brightened and she repeatedly bowed and blew kisses to Umria before scooting up the dingey alley.
     The sisters stood there as the girl reached the top of the alley and disappeared to the right.
     "I feel bad that I freaked out and shooed her" said Meena, looking around, "this place is so unfriendly, it makes me jumpy. I can't believe there's so much poverty here. It's all a sham. People are so busy being fake and super competitive that it has forced out compassion and fairness."
     Umria looked at her tunic, the way the girl draped herself in it. "Do you think she's an orphan?"
     "I don’t know. It was nice of you to give the bangle, but…yeah, that was nice. It should get her few meals hopefully."
     A child screamed from the top of the alley. It was the beggar girl, horrified and speeding towards the sisters. Umria hurried to meet her, with Meena a few steps behind.
     A scruffily dressed man, with dishevelled hair, charged after the beggar. "That's gold you little thief," he yelled. He slowed when he noticed Umria and Meena. He drew out a white baton as the little girl ran and hid behind Umria.
     "I gave her that bangle," said Umria.
     "Then you must be rich," he said and grinned, exposing his rotten teeth. He squeezed the baton and a buzzing red light flickered at the tip.
     "Hey, what's going on!?" Boznar shouted from behind Umria and Meena.
     The man panicked and charged Umria. She grabbed the beggar girl and spun away as Boznar and Chyun ran at the man.
     Boznar screamed as the three men collided. He and the attacker fell to the ground and the weapon grated along the pavement. The man promptly stood, retrieved the baton and repeatedly squeezed it, but the buzzing light failed to appear.
     He swore and ran down the alley.
     "You okay?" Umria asked the little girl cradled in her arms.
     She nodded and scooted up the alley.
     Boznar got up, grimacing and rubbing his upper arm.
     "I'm okay," he said, "that was a lucky escape."
     They hurried back to the train station, everyone shaken. The Councillors had ended their meeting early by chance, or more dismissed early. It appeared the Pellago government had little time for small-time village councillors.
     "I can see why Dynukan warned us not to linger here," said Chyun as they boarded the extravagant train to the ferry port.
     Mavipra must be prevented from falling into such extremes. The thought triggered a rush of energy within Umria. Perhaps this was her calling, to contribute big to society. She had learned in history class how gradual social changes progressed undetected by the community until it was too late. Perhaps Mavipra would become like Pellago, and she would one day pitifully shake her head at the horrors around her, like that beggar girl, and accept these as a part of life, because the situation would seem insurmountable, or worse, she would assume this was how it always was everywhere.
     "This is not what we want for Mavipra," Meena told the councillors, "you must convince the president before he becomes authoritor."
     "Who told you he's trying to become authoritor?" said Chyun.
     If the marsh ape hierarchy was anything to go by, Umria suspected that Dynukan sought to cement his position as the alpha male. Her father only advised Meena to think before speaking, so Umria blurted out, "You know in marsh apes, the alpha male sows division among the lesser males when he feels vulnerable."
     The councillors frowned at Umria. "We aren't apes," said Chyun.
     "Maybe not one hundred percent, but it's not some cute coincidence that we behave much like them. We have been fashioned from the same instincts."
     "And does the alpha ape employ armed guards?" asked Boznar and snorted.
     "The alpha males tend to be physically strongest. So, what Dynukan lacks in brawn he has outsourced."
     Meena piped in, "Surely, seven councillors can handle two guards. I mean you gentlemen just demonstrated you'd fight when it mattered, to take down an armed attacker."
     "Alright, that's enough," said Chyun, "we won't turn the Mavipran council into a wild ape colony."
     It already was, thought Umria.
     
                                                                                              ***
     
Umria hurried to One Flow as Meena headed home that evening.
     "You're back," Anika greeted Umria, "I heard you travelled to Pellago."
     Umria provided a brief of her visit.
     "Yes, I've been to Pellago," said Anika, "people struggle to smile at each other. It's like a city full of strangers, no wonder they're so tense and anxious. We're social animals after all," she walked to a clay urn, "love must be greatly diminished in a place like that, what a waste of happiness." Anika took a cup from a tray, "so did you choose an outfit?"
     "No. My sister said she's not going to dress like a man, nor dress for a man, and I had no real opinion."
     Anika smiled. "I guess people dress for each other."
     "So, who dresses for the children?" said Umria and her voice quietened, "the voiceless."
     "Yes, certain styles must appeal to children. Never thought of it that way. Of course, Pellago's dwindling population means the adults dress for each other or themselves," Anika gave Umria the cup of water, "but ultimately, we dress for an emotion."
     Emotions have seized our clothing in a way, thought Umria. She described to Anika the encounter with the beggar girl. The recollection made Umria teary.
     "See, love comes to you easily," said Anika, "particularly radiant love, that unconditional, selfless love. It's love at its best, to nurture someone so they thrive without expecting anything in return. It may be hard to believe, but it comes naturally to us, having its origins in maternal love; the way our children are born in an early stage of development and need so much care for so long. It means the mother needs a big incentive, possibly making radiant love the best feeling out there, except –"
     Umria wiped her eyes and looked at Anika.
     "Well, radiant love can protect you from the hurt that arises when a bond is suddenly weakened or broken. But being selfless, it leaves you vulnerable to exploitation and it's a complex emotion, which needs skills like shifting your pain threshold. You know where I'm going with this, don’t you?"
     Umria smiled. She recalled the physically excruciating training at One Flow based on their view that the brain employed the same mechanism to respond to emotional pain as physical pain.
     "So, have you decided who you want to be?" said Anika, relaxing into a seat across from Umria.
     "I'm getting close. Perhaps someone who attains the highest rewards the brain and body can make. Not just for self-indulgence, but also as a tool to reveal how the mind works."
     Anika nodded. "Yes, have fun while probing possibly the greatest mysteries of all, the self."
     "There's something else," said Umria, "I also want to be someone who helps the community, to make sure Mavipra doesn't suffer like Pellago."
     Umria revealed Dynukan's ambition to be an authoritor and implored Anika to speak to her son.
     "I have little influence on him these days, but I'll see what I can do."
     Umria got to her feet, glancing at the painting of Dynukan and his grandmother. Emotions have power to persuade, perhaps she could influence Dynukan after all. "What song did your mother sing to him," said Umria "the one he loved?"
     "Dreaming bliss," said Anika and frowned.
     
                                                                                             ***

 

Umria reached home at night and snuck along the side of the house and into the glass house. She heard whimpering from the thicket on the other side of the fence. She rushed to find the angoria huddled between two bushes. Its lifeless pup curled up in front.
     Umria jumped the fence and dropped to her knees. She placed her palm on the baby's body, wishing for signs of life. The mother angoria vacantly stared at her and Umria fell into an unfamiliar sadness. She wilfully seized the emotion as best she could, playing the tunes to transform the sadness into disappointment, then fear. Something had worked, the fear turned to anger, and outrage blasted through her body.
     Umria clawed and dug the ground. Her nails chipped, but she kept going.
     The mother angoria remained still, momentarily lifting its head when Umria placed the pup in the shallow grave. She scooped soil and gravel to fill the grave and placed rocks in a circle. She raked dry leaves with her fingers and heaped them on top. The raked-out area exposed a neat hole encircled by a saucer sized depression. Perhaps another clue left by the perpetrator who had thrown the pup – the killer.
     She smacked two stones against each other several times before the mound of leaves caught alight. She got to her feet; her eyes fixed to the flames.
     She wiped her tears and followed the flame tips into the starlit sky.
     The dispassionate universe was vast and eternal compared to this baby's life, or anyone's life. Her life felt like a momentary nothing. It had to have a purpose, some meaning. If not, then she must create one.
     The mother angoria rose, its eyes burning orange.
     
                                                                                                ***