Sweeping

                     
Year of the Moon

I am ugly, some have said, but a good enough worker.  All day long, I sweep the chambers.  I clean work tables and shelves.
 There is not a speck of dust once I have passed through.  Mother, the Queen Doctor, she is beautiful.  Very tall; unlike me,
short and squat.  Her skin is pale and in some places like a snake, her hair red-gold and her eyes dark blue like deep water.  
Her waist is so small that my hands could fit around it, while mine is thick and my breasts flat like wheat cakes.  Mother's are
round as melons, though she nurses no infants. The others cannot keep themselves from staring at her.

There is a silver mirror in the Mother's chambers and I have seen myself.  I know that when I stand near the Queen Doctor,
the top of my head reaches only to her waist.  My neck is thick, my hair black and coarse and it grows down the back of my
neck like fur, while hers is spider's silk glistening in the sun.  My eyes are black like those of animals that hide in the trees
and brush.  My shoulders slant down while hers are straight across.  Yet, they tell me she is my mother.  I do not entirely
understand how this can be.  Do not the offspring of things resemble their parents?

Her name is Ninmah and she works to please herself and Father Enki, King Doctor.  Enki does not seem to do much, but
then I do not observe what goes on in his own palace.  It is Mother who must perform the difficult work.  Sometimes she
does not stop for days, and consumes her food, which is mostly fruit and burnt flesh of animals, standing up.  Though she
is a goddess, I see the fatigue in her eyes, have watched her head droop on her flower stem neck.

"Come here, Bragda," she will say, not looking at me.  "Help me here."

And I will set aside my broom and run to her.  She will direct me to hold something up in the air or to cause a light to shine
on a piece of glass she is observing through her tube that makes small things large.  She will send me running to another
part of the workrooms.  She will order me to steady her arm since I am very calm.  She trusts me for this.

One day, workers carry child creatures into the room - six infants, female and male by their topknots, and I assume that she
has made more of us.  However, I soon see that these infants are different than us twenty-four workers in the Great
Laboratory and the twenty-four others who take care of Father Enki in his great house of the Abzu.  And we are different
still than the First Workers used in the mines and outside.  These new ones are more similar to Mother.  Their hair, though
black, is wavy and shines.  Their eyes, though dark, are luminous and large, their skin soft and hairless.  What are they?

"Ah," says Mother, her mouth spreading wide in a smile.  I cannot smile like that, hardly ever do I want to.  "My little
lambkins!  Let me rub you all against my cheeks, let me kiss your chubby limbs."   She is like that with her lion cubs, so I am
not surprised that she behaves so with the strange infants.

I sweep closer for a better look.

"Bragda," says Mother.  "What do you think of these darlings?"

She suddenly hands one of the infants to me!

I drop my broom and fumble to take hold of the tiny being, and immediately it nuzzles me, searching for a milk giving breast,
of which I have none.  No nourishment issues from me for, like my fellow workers, I am sterile.  Mother has not told me so,
but I have listened from behind a screen.  Our inability to reproduce ourselves is a great disappointment to her.

"This infant is sweet," I say, to keep that wide smile on Mother's face.

"Oh yes," she says, cuddling a little female.  She even pulls her tunic down from one shoulder and puts her pink tipped
breast into the infant's tiny mouth.  The baby sucks, but I do not know if anything goes in.  How could it?  Mother has not
carried an infant, at least not to my knowledge.  She uses the Birth Goddesses for that.

"My darling," I hear her croon to the infant, "you may be the one to produce like yourself!  You and you and you!" she
exclaims, nodding her head towards the others, all held firmly in the arms of workers.  She leans down to kiss her tiny
charge's forehead.  "Oh yes, surely, this will work now."

Of course she must wait for the infants to mature.  But that is nothing to Mother.  They say that she is thousands of years
old.  

Suddenly, there is a flurry of activity.  Two palace servants rush in, their head cloths askew.  "Mother Queen!" they exclaim,
before falling to the ground to bang their heads on the floor.  "Enki, King of Eridu, has come to call!"

Mother stops for a moment, her great blue eyes glazing over.  Then she hands the infant back to the workers, who silently
turn to leave.  They know, as I do of course, that Enki's arrival causes Mother to forget everything else.

I sweep towards one of the high, arched windows to watch Father Enki's entourage.  He is flanked by two of his personal
guards and a troop of workers.  It is then that a strange thing occurs.  One of the guards I have seen before, though I do
not know him; he is not from my sibling batch - our eyes meet through the window for a moment and I feel as if something
pierces my chest.

My face burns as I think about how I look to others - almost as short as a chimpanzee, my arms and legs hairy, my muscles
hard.  Mother appears soft and bendable; she is desire itself.  No one, worker, guard or god could look upon me with desire.
 Why did that worker waste his eyes upon me?

Father Enki enters, attired in purple as usual.  Is this the only color he loves?  His long fingers are adorned with heavy rings
and a thick gold collar surrounds his neck, which looks pleasing with his long, yellow hair.  His eyes, like Mother's, are large
and blue, his skin slightly more snakelike than hers.  In some places on his arms, the tiny scales glisten like pearl.  He is her
half brother; their father is An.  Have they ever been lovers?  The gods often marry brothers and sisters.

"Sister," begins Father Enki.  "You are more beautiful than usual.  Has something happened to stir your juices?"

It is as if they are alone since workers do not count.  He watches her in his usual hungry, yet appraising manner.  How can
any male not?  I wonder, do the workers secretly covet her too, even as most of the gods must?

Mother hesitates and avoids Father Enki's eyes.  My sweeping slows.

"Nothing much," she purrs, though her purring does not fool anyone.  Father Enki knows something has happened.

He reaches out and strokes her long arm, then from his robe produces a small, glittering box.  "A little something for you,"
he says, handing it to her.

She has never been able to resist Enki's gifts and immediately pries it open.  It is a cunning little cradle, containing a tiny
infant carved from precious stone.  She lifts out the little figure and holds it in front of her face.  "Fantastic," she exclaims.  
"Did you have this designed for me?"

Father Enki lowers his head in false modesty.  Anyone can see he is pleased that she appreciates his cunning taste.

"Unbelievable," she goes on, holding it up for all to see.  "I will place this in a most revered spot in my home, dear brother."  
She regards him warmly.  "In fact, we might take a walk there now, what do you think?"

Clearly, he approves of this idea, for his face reddens in that way of the gods, in that way they become before they ravish
each other and any worker that should attract their interest.  I feel embarrassed, yet oddly left out.  No one has fixed me
with that particular expression, and while I am not sure I would want it, it rankles that I have had no choice.  Not that worker
females have many choices.

While Mother and Father Enki leave the Laboratory, Enki's two guards remain behind.  They take positions in the hall outside
the Laboratory door and stand stiffly, their spear-guns at their sides.  I am about to resume sweeping, when I realize that
one of these statues is the worker who looked at me through the arch.

I sweep away from him, but he speaks.

"Little one," he says (not that he so large himself), "will you bring me water?"

"Yes," I squeak like a mouse.  My hands shake as I carry the cup to him and accidentally splash water onto his hand.  Why
does he affect me this way?  No one else, not even the gods, grips my stomach and twists it into a knot.

"What is your name?" he asks and I tell him.

"Bragda," he repeats.  "They call me Naftu."

His eyes are like mine, small and black, and their expression interesting.  He is so like me that I know he is from another
section of the second batch.

He downs the water and asks, "what is it like, working for Mother?"

I don't know what to say.  For one thing, I don't think he should be talking to me.  The other guard does not move.

"What do you mean?" I ask.  I pick up my broom and pretend to sweep.

Naftu, on the other hand, no longer pretends to work and lounges against the wall in a friendly manner.  "I mean," he says,
"you must see a lot, being that you work in her Laboratory.  You are right in the room where she creates the beings."

"How do you know about that?" I say.  "About the Creation, I mean."

He laughs softly and I watch his mouth crinkle at the edges.  I want to reach out and touch it, but of course that would be
unwise.

"Everyone knows what she does," he says.  "Besides, Father Enki is also a powerful scientist.  His Laboratory is as beautiful
as Mother's."

"Really?" I say.  Not having visited Father Enki's house, I would not know.  "What does Father create in his Laboratory?"  

Naftu gives me a speculative look.  His throat skin looks soft and is the color of honey.  "Surely, you joke.  You do not know
that Father also Creates?  The two of them discuss it often.  Mother visits Father's palace and they drink wine together and
become happily drunk.  And during their happy drinking, they tell each other what they are creating."

I do not say anything.  Something about this sounds wrong.  From what I have understood, Mother keeps her work a secret
from the other gods.  She wants, and has every right to want, to be the creator of humans who can remake themselves.  
For what good are humans, like myself, who cannot?  The Birth Goddesses are exhausted and cannot be expected to
continue to carry the infants.

I give Naftu my best look of suspicion.

He smiles.  "You do not believe me, little Bragda?  I should know, seeing that many times I have stood guard at the door
while they played."

I stop my fake sweeping.  "Then why," I ask him, "do the two of them not work together in the same Laboratory?  If, as you
say, they are in this together?"

Instead of answering me, he smiles and says, "You are a sweet little thing.  Do you have a lover?"

I cannot breathe.  Is it possible that he has asked this?  Why would I have a lover?  Only the gods have lovers; it is they
who chose, and none have beckoned to me.

"You are too shy to answer, little one?" he persists.

Not facing him, I stammer, "I - I don't know what you mean."

"Oh come now," he laughs (and the other guard laughs with him).  "You are how old?  Sixteen?  By now, surely you have
had pleasure with someone."

"You mean a god," I whisper.

He leaves his post and approaches me.  "A god?  Not necessarily.  What makes you think it must be a god?"

I am confused.  "But it is the gods who are lovers to each other and some of them choose from among the workers.  Who
else would I have?"

"Can you believe this?"  Naftu says to the other guard.  With a wide smile, he turns back to me.  "Little one, small and brown
and innocent as a nut.  You are an unopened nut."

He laughs and I cannot help but admire his strong, white teeth.  They look oddly like Father Enki's.  The way he is talking
causes me to feel hollow in my belly.  I back away, but he moves toward me.  Finally, he has me against a wall.  Part of me
wishes that Mother would return, but some of me does not.

He puts his hand on the wall over my head.  "I think you need a lover," he says.

The way my insides lurch, I wonder if he is right, but then my sanity returns.  I know that only gods can take lovers no
matter what this worker believes.  But then he shocks me further.

"Verku over there, he has a wife."

I don't know how this could be.  This worker is spinning tales, telling lies. "What do you mean?"

Naftu licks his lips.  "A female worker is joined to him for all time. They are lovers every night."

My head fills with white sparks.  What is he saying?  Only some of the gods have wives and always they are goddesses.  
Even so, some take workers as lovers whenever they feel like it.

"I thought that only on their world could someone take a wife.  Not here on Earth."

"Here on Earth is where we live," says Naftu.  "And why cannot workers do that too?"

"Because," I say slowly and exactly, "workers cannot make offspring.  What point then is there for them to unite with each
other?"

"Ah," he says, shaking his head, looking back at Verku.  "She has no idea, she has no idea."

Now I am angry.  I hold the broom between us like a weapon.  "I am not stupid!  Do not speak to me as if I am!  You know
the gods came here to mine the gold and that they made us to work the mines, not to become as they are.  We, the second
batch still cannot reproduce, so we are not much good, are we?  The birth goddesses can carry worker infants only so many
times before becoming exhausted.  Mother works day and night to find a way to make new batches that can create infants
on their own!  We have no rights, we are nothing."

Naftu gives me a look of sadness.  "You think so, little nut.  You think that is true, that we are nothing?"

I am more than confused now, I am wild inside.  "But we are as animals, are we not?  We exist to serve the gods."

Naftu does not immediately answer, but moves to stand in front of the window.  He looks out upon the gardens.  Finally, he
turns to me.

"Our parents are both gods and those beings who live like apes in the forest.  The gods put their essence into the ape men.  
So... we are special, are we not?"  He seems to ask the air, not anyone in particular.

I ignore his question and ask, "How was Verku permitted to take a wife?"

"Father Enki saw that Verku was fond of Leezna and that they always tried to be together.  And Father laughed and made a
decree that Verku and Leezna would be joined.  When other gods were visiting for the evening meal, and they had drunk
much wine, Father Enki had Verku and Leezna brought before them and joined them in marriage.  Upon their fingers, he
placed rings of gold and made them to kiss in front of the company, then declared them husband and wife."

I have never heard of such a thing.  "Were they permitted to keep the rings of gold?"

"No," says Naftu.  He is not smiling now.  "The gods, they took them back.  But strangely, Father Enki let Verku and Leezna
live together in the same chamber.  He may have forgotten now, but no one bothers them."

"No gods come to take Leezna as lover then?" I ask.

"No," says Naftu.  "Perhaps they have forgotten her.  But then you know that a new sky ship arrived in the month of Shep
and on it were new birth goddesses.  They are very beautiful and likely the gods have their eyes turned upon them."

"But," I say, not quite as shy now, "birth goddesses surely do not have time for lovering."

"Oh, but there you are wrong," says Naftu.  "After the joined seeds are put into them, they have nothing to do but wait until
they grow into workers.  They have plenty of time for serving as lovers, if they choose."

I am quiet thinking about this, about how it might feel to carry another creature inside one's belly.  And then to remove
one's robe and...  My face grows hot.

"So," says Naftu, looking into my eyes, "what is Mother working on lately?  Has she had any luck creating a worker who can
carry an infant?"

My heart thumps hard.  I back away.  Why is he asking this?

He shoots the other guard a look.  Does he think I cannot see?  "You are in here with her all the time, are you not, little nut?
 You must see everything that goes on."

I feel as if someone punched me in the belly.  For a moment I cannot catch my breath.  It is as if I had created, just like
Mother, a wonderful world where this worker here with the black black eyes, looks upon such as I with desire.  And in this
world, he and I... well, there is little point in dreaming this now.  For now I understand the true reason for his interest.

I am about to scream that these two guards are nothing but spies that Father Enki left behind.  And they, thinking that I,
because I am nothing but the sweeper, am dimwitted enough to tell them Mother's secrets.  But should I scream, how do I
know they will not hurt me?

To think this way about Father Enki, that he would stoop to this low behavior, a god, a celestial being from the stars.  It is
as if my mind has been ripped in two.

Naftu, that snake who I believed was special, is watching me carefully.  I am beginning to fear everything.  For if this guard is
not as he pretends and if Father Enki is not perfect as I believed, then is anything safe?  Will the sun rise tomorrow, will the
moon be in the sky tonight?

I shut my eyes and when I open them again, I am different.  My mouth opens and words shoot out as if someone else is
directing them.  "Why doesn't Father Enki ask Mother herself if he wants to know what she is creating?"

For a moment, Naftu is silent.  He glances again at his partner.  Finally, he speaks.  "I find you very desirable, little nut.  
Would you like it if I kissed you?"

He moves close again.  I step back.  I have, like a bird, soared high in the sky, then unlike one, crashed to earth.  All this
time, nothing is as I have believed.

"No!" I say, holding my broom in front of me.  "I do not wish for the kiss of a snake."

He looks shocked.  "Snake?  You see me as a snake?  Why, Bragda, why?  When our eyes have met through the window
and light has passed between us?"

"Not true light," I say.  "Not real light at all.  Now leave me alone, leave me to my work.  Mother will be returning and you will
be leaving."

As he returns to his post outside the door, I cannot see his face.

Year of the Sun

They file past, a parade of pride.  I feel their spirit, their fire, these handsome workers who have passed the test and
produced from their own loins infants like themselves.  How beautiful these creatures are, now grown, with their smooth
skin, their slim waists, their long, waving black hair.  Not as tall as the gods, but taller than my kind, they glide down the
aisle to Mother.

She sits on her podium in perfect posture, arms open to receive her children.  "Look at you," she beams, her large eyes
luminous.  I see her cast a sidewise glance at Father Enki, who lounges in the Chair for Distinguished Guests, his own face
serious and closed.  At his side are his two favorite old guards, one of them, guess who.

I am old myself now.  Countless moons have passed since I witnessed these hairless infants carried in for Mother's
inspection.  My back is stooped, my legs hurt when I rise from my mat, my hair is grizzled.  Mother allows me still to sweep,
and she is kind when I frequently need to rest.  I do not know how much longer I will be able to work. But I am thankful to
have lasted long enough to witness this exhibit of advanced workers, who finally meet Mother's standards.

Nufta looks at me long and hard.  By now, I have learned to read expressions in eyes and on faces of both god and worker.  
He is expressing a mix of feelings - respect for me, anger that he did not, so long ago trick me, regret that we were never
lovers.  

Since that time so long ago, I, plain though I am, have enjoyed three lovers.  One just on one occasion, the other two for
lengths of time.  From the second, I learned how to please a male and the third one benefited.  None were gods, for why
should any of them choose such as I when now there are workers of beauty close to their own?

Father Enki's eyes follow the gorgeous creatures, but he does not rise nor signal from his chair.  He is clearly reluctant to
give Mother her due.  That is not to say that he himself has not created some lovely creatures of his own, but it is only two
of Mother's children, who present us with their first offspring.

Mother stands to accept these into her arms.  She holds them with adoration and speaks to the audience of gods and
workers.

"This is a Day of Days in the Universe," she intones.  She is wearing a long violet tunic, usually Enki's color, and a thin gold
band upon her flowing hair.  "For the first time upon this Earth, two created Eves have produced infants, their own kind,
from their own loins."

She signals for one of the infants' mothers to take hers back and holds up the other for the audience's inspection.  
"Witness," she instructs us, "the softness of the infant's skin, just like its mother's.  Observe the soft shine of the child's
hair; her large, lustrous eyes and now hear this."  Mother must have gently pinched the infant's leg, for it suddenly opens its
tiny mouth and lets out a magnificent wail.

"Only with the building seed of the gods could such a fine wail be possible," she laughs.

After handing the once again quiet infant back to its mother, she announces, "be it known, that neither of these infants were
fathered by one of us, but by new workers only!  Step forward fathers!"

At Mother's signal, two of the new Adams advance and kneel before her.  I cannot help but admire their smooth, strong
backs.  It is strange to behold the look of the gods, but smaller and with dark hair.  I glance at my hairy arm and suffer
regret and anger.  Why couldn't I have been born as part of this much improved batch?

Mother instructs the two male workers to face the audience, then, standing up to her full glory, proceeds to give a speech.

"We have made the workers who will populate this planet.  They will work for us in the mines, certainly, but the day will come
when we leave, and these fine creatures will go forth and multiply.  They will produce kings and queens, scholars, farmers,
soldiers, and scientists.  Some day, far in the future, perhaps they will learn what we know now, but they must discover it
for themselves, they must forge their own path."

She extends her long, elegant arm to her half brother.  "Enki, my love, let us no longer be rivals in the Laboratory.  Your
learnings have helped me and my learnings have done so for you.  Let us forgive and remember only what we have made
and adore it."

Enki's large, blue eyes lock with hers and he cannot resist her charms, for as everyone knows, in spite of their rivalry, he
loves her.  They hold hands and I forget about disapproving of myself and instead join in, experiencing the joy of the gods.  
This is a fine day and I am indeed lucky to witness the birth of what may become, if all goes well, future gods.

Afterwards, there are meats and fruits, bread and honey cakes and wine that flows through the night.  And after all these
moons, Nufta and I find a dark pavilion on the outer grounds of the palace and make love.  Under the silver moon, we are
lovers.

Margaret Karmazin