by Crucible
So now Alex looked out at wooden structures with dovetailed joints; stone structures with that old Roman staple, the key arch; tents and lodges decorated with Chinese characters. This Mira City had none of the soaring grace and ecologically correct harmony she had once envisioned. This Mira City was eclectic, crude, makeshift, evolving, vital.
And here.
The band had long since finished its anthem. “Begin!” Jake called. “What are you waiting for?”
Alex held up her hand. The crowd quieted. She picked out individual faces: Star Chu. Kent Landers. Savannah Cutler. Salah Hadijeh. Ben Stoller and Natalie Bernstein. And off to one side, River Cloud with three young braves, all being much admired by a mixed gaggle of teenage girls.
But it wasn’t the faces that were here that Alex proposed to talk about.
“As mayor of Mira City, I’d like to welcome you all to the ceremony commemorating the fifty-third anniversary of the First Landing. But before I talk about the wonderful things in our past and in our future, I want to begin as every public meeting in Mira City begins.
“So that we remember them always, and remember what we owe them, these are the martyrs who gave their lives so that we might live in peace on Greentrees:
“Lau-Wah Mah.”
The crowd echoed solemnly, “We remember Lau-Wah Mah.”
“Nan Frayne.”
“We remember Nan Frayne.”
“Ashraf Shanti.”
“We remember Ashraf Shanti.”
“Duncan Martin.” Even now her throat tightened at the surname.
“We remember Duncan Martin.”
“Siddalee Brown.”
“We remember Siddalee Brown.”
“Mary Pesci and Mesbah Shanab.”
“We remember Mary Pesci and Mesbah Shanab.”
“Burning Tree of the Cheyenne.”
“We remember Burning Tree of the Cheyenne.”
“Grandmother of the wild Furs.”
“We remember Grandmother of the wild Furs.”
“Miranda of the wild Furs …”
Miranda. Alex could never escape memory. “History defines us,” Julian always said. Duncan Martin on a vanished stage, in his thrilling voice:” ’O brave new world that has such people in it…’” Alex looked out across the solemn, chanting crowd.
“We remember Miranda of the wild Furs.”
Such people in it…
Yes.
NANCY KRESS
was born and raised in upstate New York, where she spent most of her childhood either reading or playing in the woods. She earned a bachelor’s and master’s degree in education, as well as an MA in English. While she was pregnant with the second of her two sons, she started writing fiction.
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