Then, following them, kids started coming out. These did look at me, studying me like they might a strange bug. I looked at them, too, shocked. They were all naked! Buck naked, not even a loincloth or ship underwear. I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked, that was the Newtonian way. Any Newtonian could be naked, but mostly the married adults tended to wear, as here, jumpsuits. But the kids, unmarried kids, as here, wore nothing at all a lot of the time.

“Your name and rank,” one of them asked me, a boy. I had a hard time knowing where to look as I answered him, as several other kids came over at the same time, boys and girls. I was not put off by nakedness, especially in kids, but I wasn’t used to it here, like this, when they weren’t even swimming or anything!

“Carl Tome, Lt.,” I said. “I’m in charge of site security.”

“New Genevan. CF born.” The boy said in reply. “Your accent. A hint of New Texan, though?”

“My adopted parents and my wife,” I said. Stupid Newtonians, always showing off their learning. Not that I wasn’t impressed. It wasn’t like I had answered him in dialect!

“Partnered?” another kid, a girl, asked me, and I blushed. I mean, she was an older girl, not quite ready but still… and she was asking me…

“Yes,” I said. “Or, rather, married. And she is pregnant, a boy, almost ready to pop.”

The girls lips tightened slightly at this casual speech, but then she said, “I am interning in midwifery. Do you suppose she would allow me to exam her and participate in the birth?’

“I… ummm… you would have to ask her,” I stammered out. Bethany would freak! But it wasn’t like I could tell these people that my wife hated Newtonians!

“As you will,” she said. “What is her name, rank, and identifier, so I can com her?”

I hadn’t really meant… but I was stuck now.“Bethany Tome, Soldier wife unspecified, ID 7890213.”

“Thank you,” she said, with that look that people had when they were memorizing something, and she left to go back in the shuttle. I was so dead! I couldn’t even com Bethany first.

“What do you know of the local flora?” another boy was asking me. As a way of getting out of saying ‘practically nothing’ I said, “I need to check in with my team, if you will excuse me.”

“Of course,” the boy said, and they all stood there, waiting for me to ‘check’. I sighed. Then I remembered something, thought of something, and flipped down my helmet.

“Com Jeremy,” I said. The computer used its logic circuits and commed the Jeremy I meant, one of my squad. “Jeremy, one of the kids here wants to know about the ‘flora’,” I said. “I’m going to put you on remote com.”

“Sure,” he said. “Its got to be less boring than just sitting here.”

I opened my helmet again. “I have commed a boy in my squad who is more cognizant than I on matters of flora,” I said to the ‘flora’ boy. I had remembered that Newtonians were all very specialized. This boy wouldn’t think me stupid for asking someone else, he would think me stupid if I didn’t. “He is on my left wrist remote com,” I added, and using the autonomic features of my suit I got it to hold my arm out extended to my side, locking it in place. “Other questions.”

“You are from New Geneva,” a different girl asked. They seemed to have some sort of rank hierarchy as she looked just younger than the other girl who had asked about partnering and the boy who was, now, holding an animated conversation with Jeremy over my left wrist com. “Is that the composition of the soldiering and Pathfinding crew in this area?”

“That, New Genevans, and Hargrave,” I said.

“What difficulties, culturally, do you think that will cause, attempting to integrate Newtonians with New Genevans, New Texans and Hargravers?”

“There will be difficulties,” I admitted. Deciding to state my own difficulty I said, “They will be surprised at your nudity, for example. Among most other people older children are not usually nude in public unless they are at home, or engaged in some occupation that requires it, such as swimming.”

“Why would we wear clothing in this weather?” another child asked, and the girl I was speaking to turned to them, with a lecturing tone.

“It is well known,” she said, “that many cultures transfer the nudity taboo that comes naturally to adults down to their children.”

“But why is there a taboo at all?” the younger child asked.

“The explanations for that differ,” the girl said. “Many cultures, including NT, NG, and Hargrave, would speak of a religious explanation. Their attitude toward what we would speak of as socially destructive behavior and they call ‘sin’ or ‘wickedness’ relates to this. It is written that, at the time when they first became aware of sin, their adults also became aware of ‘nakedness’. That is, the less public parts of the body, in their minds, stood for the basic destruction of relationship that exists whenever socially destructive activities are in evidence.”

“A non-religious explanation is more difficult. But the phenomenon is by no means isolated to religious societies and has been proved to be innate in all human cultures. The rules for physical exposure differ, but all societies naturally provide for certain concepts of ‘modesty’ or ‘privacy’… usually surrounding reproductive and excretory activities but also, as here, as limiting the exposure of the body when not engaged in an activity where that exposure is necessary, and sometimes even when it is the most efficient.”

“The only explanation I have read, which still seems to fall rather woefully short in explanatory power, is that nakedness, as a normal adjunct to reproductive activities, is considered dangerous in any situation where reproductive activities would not be considered appropriate. You will note his emphasis on ‘older’ children. As children approach reproductive maturity their nudity might be considered a signal that they are available for those activities even with those with whom it would not be appropriate.”

My head was spinning at this ‘explanation’ but the younger child seemed content and nodded his head. The girl turned back toward me, “what other cultural clashes do you envision?”

“I, umm, the education systems are rather different, as are the, the relationships between children and adults. In our society your actions, now, would be considered mildly inappropriate.”

“I apologize for any offense,” the girl said.

“None was taken,” I said.

“How would a child have approached you with these questions?” she asked.

My head spun. How to answer that? Suddenly my com sounded. “Excuse me,” I said, “I have a com.”

“Carl!!” Bethany said. “What did you say to that girl?”

“I’m sorry, love. She asked me if I had a partner, and I said I had a wife, and I said that you were pregnant…”

“And she is ready to trot over here, examine me, and watch me give birth. She asked me if she could stay with us, when she found out there were other pregnant women here. What am I going to tell her?”

“I guess… I guess ask Adelphe?”

“But you know what she will say! She will tell us to go ahead, that it will be good for relationships between our people, and good for the new colony.”

“Well, I suppose it would, but if you aren’t comfortable…”

“And I’m supposed to tell a Newtonian girl, who has never in her life been asked if something made her ‘comfortable’, that she can’t continue her midwife studies because I find her cold and too ‘scientific’? Do you want me to look like a fool?”

“No, I just…”

“Never mind. I’ll talk to Aliyah. But don’t be surprised if that girl comes home with you tonight!”

—

Which is what happened. Four hours later, just before our relief arrived, the girl, backpack in hand, came trooping up to me, “I will be accompanying your squad back. Your wife has graciously given me permission to stay in your tent and to help me to arrange to examine a variety of women.

I was appalled. Not just at having her in our tent: I had gotten kind of used to our getting to sleep alone, which was a nice break from group living, but I couldn’t image what the other boys, or the people back at our camp, were going to say when I waltzed this buck naked girl all the way back to our camp and into our tent.

My ears burning, I struggled to think of what to say, how to hint that she really, seriously, needed to wear something!

“Drendida?” I heard, and the girl and I turned toward an older woman coming up to us.

“Mother,” the girl said. “I am ready to go.”

“No, you’re not!” the mother said, in an accusing tone. “Have you forgotten your culture studies? You are dressed wildly inappropriately. And have you made provision for participation in religious ceremonies? Have you an appropriate headcovering?”

“I… I’m sorry, Mother, Sir,” the girl said, and dashed off.

“You will have to excuse her,” the mother said. “She is very excited about this opportunity. Our group was organized ‘old/young’ and so there will be few expectant mothers in it. And, of course, many girls training to be midwives. So this is, really, an excellent opportunity for her, and I thank you, and your wife, for your graciousness.”

“I, umm, you are welcome.”

The woman cocked her head. “I see. I hadn’t realized. Should I tell her she can’t go?”

I panicked, “No, umm, why…”

“Perhaps I am misreading your non-verbals but it seems to me as if you didn’t, actually, give permission but felt forced into it.”

Just then the girl ran up, a bright red jumpsuit on, and a brilliant yellow headcovering. What could I say? “No, she is welcome to come,” I said, slowly. “But she will have to treat me as her, as her guardian, especially for purposes of, of cultural differences.”

The mother cocked her head, again, and then turned to her daughter. “You understand the condition? You will need to obey this man as if he were your own father, and in areas where you will, no doubt, find his behavior irrational. He will have, and will use, all appropriate and necessary punishments, including physical and social.”

“I expected no less, Mother.”

“Perhaps you did. But in cross cultural situations what you ‘expect’ is far less important than what you clearly communicate. In your haste to obtain this excellent situation you did not clearly communicate your willingness to obediently participate in a hierarchy that will be exceedingly strange to you.”

The squad relieving us was just coming over the hill near us and the younger ones peeling off toward their various stations. Their leader, however, seeing the tableau, paused just outside of earshot, waiting.

“I apologize for my error,” the girl, Drendida, said.

“You are quite forgiven,” I said, and held out my hand. She looked confused but, at a gesture from her mother, took it.

“Charles,” I called out, “Ready to take over?”

“Sure,” he said, “Whose this?” he asked, indicating Drendida.

“Her name’s Drendida,” I said. “Bethany and I are going to be fostering her for a while. She is studying midwifery and needs to get up to speed before her crew starts all popping out.”

“Not partnered yet?” he asked.

“Not quite, by my reckoning,” I said. I felt Drendida stir, but I squeezed her hand and she said nothing. After Charles and I finished and Drendida and I were walking away I said, “You may ask your question now.”

“Why did you not want me to answer his question?” she asked first.

“Because, in our culture, when two adults are talking, children are generally silent.”

She digested that, and then asked, “Why are we holding hands.”

“It is a sign of your status. You are now my foster-daughter. Among us, and especially amongst the Hargravers, physical intimacy of this type is a mark of relationship.”

“I see. And was mother right about my nudity?”

“Yes, indeed. I was working myself up to telling you myself.”

“Why did you not just tell me?”

Somehow it was infinitely easier, talking like this. I saw my squad forming up in front of us and triggered the signal which meant, ‘Move on, keep appropriate distance and guard,’ which sounded difficult to say, but was easy to signal.

“Amongst our people some things are hard to say, because we fear embarrassing the other. You were nude, and comfortable in your nudity. But from my culture, to tell you that it wouldn’t be appropriate to travel or arrive that way would be to shame you.”

“But surely the shame would be in the traveling and arriving, not the anticipation.”

“Not among us. Amongst us, being ready to do an embarrassing thing, and being told about it, is, itself, embarrassing.”

“I see,” she said, after a minute or two. “Perhaps it would be the same with us, but I had no concept of being embarrassed by my dress. Indeed, I am reaching the age where… where I am beginning to have some feelings of embarrassment because of my changing state. I know that these feelings are counterproductive and inefficient so I am, perhaps, sensitive about being seen as embarrassed.”

I laughed. “We have the same thing, or similar, anyway. I remember when I first got certified for puberty, and I felt like I had to act all nonchalant when this girl, who is now my Adelephe, was examining me. It was an official thing, she was a doctor and all. But I didn’t actually know her, and I was changing and embarrassed by new body, so I was really embarrassed even though I knew I wasn’t supposed to be!”

“Adlephe?” the girl asked.

“Sister in law,” I said. “Sister of my wife. But I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Your mother said your group was organized ‘old/young’. What did she mean by that? I’ve never heard that phrase.”

“Ah. It is a phrase we only use rarely ourselves. It refers primarily to colony or similar situation set up for a very specific purpose. As here where we are going to be studying the culture and biochemistry of the Bn. The colony is staffed by two completely different types of people.”

“The ‘old’ contingent are the scientists. These are all highly educated, professional scientists, experts in their fields, older, with their child bearing years beyond them.”

“Then there is the ‘young’ contingent which consists of younger, just partnered, men and women. The idea is that the older scientists will do the bulk of the scientific work while the younger contingent breeds up the next generation and does the bulk of the ‘other’ work, agriculture, mining, etc. The resulting population pyramid looks odd, but is calculated to be effective.”

“I see,” I said.