The hierarchy, peculiarly, has been reconstituted. We had one formal meeting on the first day out and since we decided that we did not know the destination of the ship or, for that matter, how long it would take us to return home (we seem to recollect the voyage to the aliens as measuring in a few months but all of this is pretty hazy; our memories are only clear and precise from the time of coming into the enclosure), it would be best to set up some kind of formal organization, if only to avoid conflict with one another. Since no female may occupy the top post in the hierarchy, the choice fell between one hundred ninety-nine, myself, and the two other males, and one hundred and ninety-nine, because of his insistence, took the position. “I understand that you outranked me in the older hierarchy,” he said to me during our election speeches, “but that is no qualification; you barely managed the escape. I believe I am administratively talented. I want to be first.”
I pointed out that administrative talent was hardly necessary under these limited circumstances where the ship did everything for us and our destination would reclaim us wholly, but one hundred ninety-nine was insistent and, although I had always (like any male, I am sure) had a slight desire to be head of the hierarchy, no matter how pointless that assignment, I yielded in his favor. Our two votes, combined with the votes of another female and Nala’s abstention, guaranteed his election since the other votes were scattered. The first thing that one hundred ninety-nine did when he took formal leadership was to assign the other rankings (Nala was second and I am sixth) and then to dissolve all meetings of the council formally and in perpetuity. We will have no more meetings on this voyage. “Now that I’m first I want to forget the whole thing,” he said. “It’s all pointless and silly and I want nothing to do with it but I want you to remember who is first should that question ever arise. And that is what we will tell them when we return.”
Otherwise, there is little reporting to be done about our new life on the ship. It is dull, it is limiting, and there are not even any sessions with the therapists to break up the routine. In many ways our life here, then, is similar to that of the enclosure. The motion of the ship is almost imperceptible, and our lust for routine is constant. If there were no enclosure, we would, perhaps, have to create one; we have been captives for that long. This strange thought which took me by surprise a few days ago seemed shocking but now too has been incorporated in the routine. Of course. Of course. It could have been no other way.