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“I can eat,” Sev said mildly.
Which was an understatement—Mia had seen her partner put away three large pizzas on his own, though of course not a single bit of the food seemed to turn into anything but more muscle on his large frame. Ifsheate like that, her already too-big thighs and behind would beenormous.But that was just the Kindred metabolism for you—it didn’t seem to matter what they ate, they never got fat. Lucky bastards.
“Are you paying attention, Sister Mia?” Brother Jonash demanded, abruptly derailing her train of thought.
“Oh, uh, yes. Sorry,” Mia mumbled. “So you program it with the touch screen?”
“No—yourhusbandwill program it. Please come here, Brother Severith.” Jonash motioned and Sev went to look at the touch screen. “Place your thumbprint here and here,” he said. “Good—now the food prep assembly will respond to your directions.”
“I thought you saidIhad to learn how to use it because I’m the little woman and I’ll be doing all the cooking?” Mia couldn’t quite keep the irritation out of her voice.
“You will—you have to know how to collect the food and beverages that come from the various tubes and prepare them,” Brother Jonash snapped. “See here—this tube is for your husband’s food only.” He pointed to the large, fat tube on the right. “Press the button on the side and the ingredients your husband has chosen for whatever meal you’re making will come sliding down to the mouth of the tube so you can remove them and prepare them to his liking.”
“And the other tube is for my food?” Mia guessed, pointing to the left-hand tube, which wasn’t quite as large as the one on the right.
“Exactly.” Brother Jonash nodded.
“Why can’t we eat the same thing?” Sev asked, which was exactly what Mia was thinking. “Preparing two different meals every night seems inconvenient and wasteful.”
“Often, it will be exactly the same ingredients—just in different amounts,” Brother Jonash explained. “A large male working outside the home all day, doing heavy labor in the fields, is going to need a lot more food than his smaller wife who’s doing nothing but housework.”
Suddenly Mia remembered the promise in the ad, that the kitchen in the smart dome house would help women who needed “self-control.”
“So this is your way of putting all the women here on a diet?” she demanded, stabbing a finger at the left hand tube.
“Not at all—women and men simply have different caloric needs,” Brother Jonash denied stiffly. “And husbands have a duty to be certain that their wives aren’t overindulging—that is why only the husband has the right to program the food prep assembly.”
“So you’re sayingIshould be the one who decides how muchMiagets to eat?” Sev demanded. “Her body is her own—I don’t know how hungry she is.”
“No, no, no…” Brother Jonash sighed and shook his head theatrically. “I can see the two of you have much to learn. It is our belief in the PPP that a wifebelongsto her husband. But that doesn’t mean he can neglect her,” he went on, now lecturing Sev who was staring down at him with obvious disbelief. “A husband musttendto his wife—he must nourish her physically and spiritually and guide her in all things. If she needs comfort, he must give it. But likewise, if she errs, he must discipline her. She must be Taken in Hand and led in the right direction.”
“Like achild?”Mia demanded angrily.
Brother Jonash didn’t even acknowledge her this time.
“We will teach you our ways, Brother Severith,” he said, still talking to Sev. “And you’ll come to see that the way of the Prophet is thebestway. He teaches us all how to care for our wives so that they can live happy, healthy productive lives of service and domesticity. For only through service and servitude to her husband can a wife truly fulfill her destiny.”
Mia felt her cheeks get hot with anger. She wanted to punch Brother Jonash in his priggish, pale blue face! But she knew that would only get them into trouble—and possibly thrown out of the PPP Dome before they had even started their investigation. So with extreme difficulty, she swallowed her rage and turned to look at the middle tube—the long skinny one that hung straight down from the ceiling above.
“What does this one do?” she asked, tapping the shiny brass surface.
“Ah—that one is something I think you will come to appreciate,” Brother Jonash said—actually deigning to answer a direct question from her for once. “It dispenses the Nutrient Crème that each wife is required to drinks.”
Mia frowned.
“Nutrient Crème? What ‘s in it?”
“Let me show you.” Without exactly answering her question, Brother Jonash went to one of the smoked glass panels on the wall and tapped smartly with one finger. “One Crème glass please,” he said clearly.
The smoked glass panel slid to one side and a gleaming golden cup about the size of a shot glass was revealed, sitting on the spotless shelf. Brother Jonash took it out and brought it to the countertop with the three brass tubes. He held the glass under the skinny middle tube and pressed a button on the side of it.
At once, a thick stream of pale purple liquid began to pour from the mouth of the tube. It dispensed just enough to fill the golden shot glass and then stopped.
“Ah—here you go, my dear,” Brother Jonash said cordially, handing the glass to Mia. “Go on—drink up! You can’t start your Nutrient Crème too early. It’ssogood for you!”
“What’s in it?” Mia repeated. She definitelywasn’tdrinking any weird concoction given to her by a cult leader. Hello—Jonestown anyone?
“Yes, what are you trying to give my wife?” Sev echoed. There was a protective growl in his voice and he glared at Brother Jonash, who turned a paler shade of blue.
