by Rob Summers
Chapter 3 It Comes to That
Reason closed her son’s bedroom door and returned to the living room in her family’s apartment in Grace House. Her husband Truth was seated on an old couch, leaning forward, his dark hands clasped, his eyes troubled. He looked up questioningly.
“Well, he won’t die,” Reason said with a trace of a tremor in her voice. “He’s shaken up, but I think he’ll sleep soon.” She forced a smile. “I guess he needs to know about these things.”
“Yeah, he needs to know,” Truth said, “but this won’t be the end of it. The City doesn’t like it when anybody sees Relocation.”
His little wife sat down beside him and put her arm through his. “I don’t think either the police or those demons knew they were seen tonight. And even if Quake and Prevarica tell their parents, it will probably stop there. Their parents won’t tell. It will stop there.”
Truth shook his head. “It won’t stop, it shouldn’t. I don’t want something like this to happen in our neighborhood and everybody look the other way.”
“But I don’t want the Wiz involved in anything controversial,” she said. “He’s too young.”
Old Grace, the Heavenite ambassador, now appeared in their doorway that opened onto the hall. Erect and white haired, he was dressed in pajamas and robe. “Please excuse my appearance,” he said, “but I was sitting up in my room and just ready to go to bed when Honesty came and told me about what’s happened. I think I might be of some help to you. May I join you?” With their encouragement the aristocratic old man took a chair across from them. “I understand that Wisdom’s had quite a night, perhaps more than he was prepared for.”
“Just this year we taught him a little about Relocation,” Reason said, “but we were waiting till he was older for a full explanation. Now he’s seen it with his own eyes. I’m sure he’ll be all right. I was just telling Truth that I don’t think the City knows that this was seen, and so it doesn’t seem to be an issue, does it?”
Grace and Truth exchanged a look that made Reason uneasy.
“I’m afraid it is,” Grace said. “You see, my dear, no house has collapsed on Sandhill Street since before this house became Heavenite; so you haven’t experienced the sort of cover-up that follows, at least not since you arrived at your present perspective. The standard lies are about to be aired concerning the fate of the Sluggards.”
“Yes, I know they’ll have one of those wretched Bon Voyage ceremonies,” Reason said tightly, “but surely we can leave that alone?” She turned to her husband. “Can’t we?”
Truth took his time answering. “Wiz shouldn’t go,” he said, and Grace nodded agreement, “but Dignity can’t really miss it. He’s known the Sluggards since he was a kid.”
“So have I.”
“Yeah, you should go too.”
Reason stood up nervously. “And do what? I could just sit there quietly and endure all the falseness of it—Pastor Hypocrisy’s homily and all that—but didn’t you just say, sir,” she said to Grace, “that what really happened tonight should be an issue? As in ‘make an issue out of it’? Surely it doesn’t need to come to that?”
Truth took her by the hand and drew her back down beside him. “Now don’t you get so squeaky,” he said with a grin. “It always comes to that sooner or later. You have to fight for the facts, you know.”
As a last defense she said, “Dignity won’t want to argue with anyone.”
“Won’t he?”
“No! This is no time for him to make waves, especially not with his parents due any day now to visit with us. You know how he likes to jolly them.”
Truth and Grace exchanged another look.
“What is it?” she said.
“Perhaps Dignity has been a bit too deferential to Neglect and Folly,” Grace said, naming Dignity’s parents. “I for one am not content with these annual visits of theirs when they stay for many weeks.”
Reason considered. “Do you mean that, if Dig really offends them, they might not stay here? Not that I myself would really miss them, I suppose, but we can hardly afford a real break in family relations. I mean, I wouldn’t want Dignity at odds with his parents, and for that matter, they were like parents to me for a few years.” She smiled. “They’re family.”
“What are you saying, my dear?” Grace asked.
Reason thought that she had been pretty clear. “I mean we musn’t—shouldn’t—had better not talk to Neglect and Folly about what really happens in Relocation, because they have a completely different set of ideas about these things and would only get angry. Of course, it would be different if we had any hope of convincing them, but,” she spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness, “they’re as impenetrable as stone to Heavenite talk.”
“I quite agree,” Grace said. “but don’t you think—haven’t you long believed—that a true account is worth upholding for its own sake?”
Reason forced herself to meet his warm eyes. “Yes, that’s how I believe it should be. When it comes down to it, I don’t see how I can do anything else.”
“Well, it has come down to it,” Grace said. “Don’t be afraid, my dear. You and Dignity will have a short, unhappy passage, but better days will follow.” He reached in his robe pocket. “Now I have something here I’d like you to keep for me.”
He handed her a device like a thermometer, a glass tube mounted in wood. The red liquid in the tube, she noted, stood at the number 79. The numbers went up to 99, or rather to 100, but instead of the number 100 the words ‘Wrath to the Utmost’ were inscribed in the wood. She looked at him in perplexity.
“It’s called an abominometer,” he said. “Given a little time, it will explain itself. Now another matter is the cupola that is about to be added to the roof of the house. I realize the construction will be a little noisy, but it’s a necessary addition.”
Rather than protest all this mystery, Reason smiled, for she loved the old man. “And given a little time, will it explain itself?”
The three laughed quietly as Grace stood. “Don’t mistake me, Reason. The weeks ahead will be difficult, and more than difficult, I’m afraid. But our King has something in mind rather bigger than what happens in this house or even on Sandhill Street. You and Dignity are to be his operatives in a plan related to the undeclared war that is ongoing between Heaven and the City. What happened tonight is the precursor to an impending battle.”
“A battle! But does that mean the King is coming back? Is it the Liberation?”
“Not just yet,” Grace answered gently. “You must be patient for a few more years. But the war is fought in all times and places. Even Sandhill Street can be an objective for both sides.”
“Just because of Sluggard House?” she asked.
He nodded. “Or rather because of the varying accounts of what happened there tonight. But my dear, we can’t call it a house anymore, or even a ruin. The City, with its usual efficiency in such cases, has acted quickly. You’ve heard the sound coming from down the street of the work crews with their heavy machinery. Already I think the site can more accurately be termed Sluggards’ Lot.”
