PERVERSION

bikun [ BEE koon ], (noun) — the inability to form deep attachments to those who are capable of returning one's feelings.

He followed me as I walked from room to room; I knew what I would find and yet I felt compelled to look. The cages stood empty. The pen had been dismantled. Even the net over the garden had been removed. I looked at the circle of sky, so bright, so exposed. My knees weakened, dropping me onto the stone bench.

I did not have the courage to look at the priest, though I knew he was there, at the garden door.

"It's over, isn't it," I whispered. "My life."

After a long pause, he said, "The life you knew, yes."

I covered my face with my hands.

"Tell me," Shame said after a quiet filled only by the wind. "Why?"

"They never asked of me anything I couldn't give," I whispered. "Food, shelter. A kind hand, a gentle voice. But... but not more than that."

He didn't answer. When I looked up, he was gone.

I expected Correction, for my sin had been... extreme. If they'd thought I'd gotten medical care to the beasts before the people because I'd been absent-minded or irresponsible, I might have earned some largesse. But having entered my home, they would have known. It had not been an accident, that I'd seen to the creatures first. I was sick. I preferred animals to people.

I had kept pets.

For days no one came for me, leaving me to my empty house. When the Guardians finally arrived I was almost glad. I wanted it to be done with. I couldn't imagine any life I'd be willing to live, but the waiting was hard, too hard.

So they took me away and I went, exhausted. I expected... well, the Bleak, frankly.

I ended up in a Regal household.

Standing before a door, an elegant Ai-Naidari asked, "Are you sure about this?" I didn't recognize her; we were all the way on Third World.

"Yes," Shame said. To me, he said, "Go on."

I stepped through the door, scattering the people in the room, like birds, exactly like nervous birds. I stilled myself and they settled. They were... oh, gods! They were beautiful. And silent. And nude. I was in the fathriked's quarters. Turning, I looked to Shame.

"Your new charges," he said. "Ward them well." And then left, closing the door behind him.

I was staggered. He had found me a perfect place, with people who would never ask of me more than I could give: food, shelter, a kind hand, a gentle voice. And yet... I was here and not in the Bleak: beyond reform, beyond Correction. He had judged me. I would never, ever be normal.

But he had made sure I would be content.

I sat amid beauty and silence and wept... but then I dried my eyes, and went to work.