It could well have been otherwise, as the elderly sculptress-a true believer since deceased-had a tendency to confer bulging eyes on her subjects as a sign of their pious fervour. I would have preferred more emphasis on myself. The persuasion in my voice would have been enough.Īs a group of statuary it’s not a great success: too crowded.

This weapon reminds me of my failings: had I been more effective, I would not have needed such an implement. Hanging from a belt around my waist is my Taser.

My right hand rests on the head of a woman crouched at my side, her hair veiled, her eyes upturned in an expression that could be read as either craven or grateful-one of our Handmaids-and behind me is one of my Pearl Girls, ready to set out on her missionary work. We Aunts must not be too presumptuous, even in stone.Ĭlutching my left hand is a girl of seven or eight, gazing up at me with trusting eyes. Not that anything in the sky would be visible to my statue, placed as it is in a morose cluster of trees and shrubs beside the footpath running in front of Ardua Hall. My eyes are fixed on some cosmic point of reference understood to represent my idealism, my unflinching commitment to duty, my determination to move forward despite all obstacles. I am standing straight, shoulders back, my lips curved into a firm but benevolent smile. My statue is larger than life, as statues tend to be, and shows me as younger, slimmer, and in better shape than I’ve been for some time. We don’t do cheering here at Ardua Hall, but there was some discreet clapping. I thanked her with as much modesty as I could summon, then pulled the rope that released the cloth drape shrouding me it billowed to the ground, and there I stood. She’d been assigned the task by our superiors, and was far from appreciative. This statue was a small token of appreciation for my many contributions, said the citation, which was read out by Aunt Vidala.

Precious book sequel