by Ann Benson
He pulled his chair in to the table’s edge. As if he’d been reading her thoughts, he said, “This is how trade starts. They repair windmills, we make insulin. Engineering,” he said as he flipped one palm, “and pharmaceuticals.” He flipped the other palm with a grin. “Look around,” he said, his eyes traveling over the friendly, energetic people who were taking their places. He leaned closer to Janie. “Tonight we’re a trade delegation. Let’s see what happens.”
“Hey, boss, we got incoming!”
Bruce set aside his lab instruments and followed Fredo to the communications center. When they got there, Fredo sat down in front of the computer and typed in a few command lines while Bruce stood behind him, watching the lines of code scroll down the screen.
“Give me a second,” Fredo said. “I have to scroll through all this header junk to get to the text of the message. When you get through reading it, I want to show you something. It might take a moment.”
Without some of the essential pathways in place, the electronic route each message had to take after it was hijacked was long. “The machines that house the connection points are probably out of commission,” Fredo explained. “I can’t be the only guy who went out looking for parts.”
The spyware Fredo had projected out into the digital cosmos had found a home somewhere, but as yet he hadn’t been able to precisely locate that home. There were no more domain registries to tell them where the machine on which a particular URL lived was located.
The scrolling lines of code finally came to an end. The cursor blinked at the beginning of a block of text.
“About time,” Fredo said. “Take a look.”
He got up and let Bruce have the seat in front of the screen, and stood behind him as he read through a long list of cities.
After a while, Bruce sat back. “Just like we picked up the last time. It’s got to be a list of locations where the next round of meetings will be held.” He pointed to a few lines of text. “Worcester’s on the list. No dates yet, though. Let’s hope that comes soon.” He got up from the chair in front of the screen and gestured to Fredo to sit again. “Okay, what did you want to show me?”
Fredo started the code again but pressed the pause key several times as it progressed, stopping and starting the message until he came to a particular point.
“Right there,” he said, pointing to the screen. “A copy of the message takes a left.”
“What do you mean, ‘takes a left’?”
“It copies itself and sends itself out again, to a different recipient. I can pinpoint the server that it happens on.” He recited the URL aloud. “I just don’t know where that server is physically located.”
“Could it be…I mean, could the Coalition—”
“They could be intercepting all the same messages we are.”
“Can they find us through this?”
“They probably don’t have any more access to URL locations than we do. But if there’s going to be a delta meeting in Worcester, and we’ve picked up positives all around here…”
It was Steve Roy who assumed the role of foreign minister. He astonished both of his guests by bringing out wineglasses and a small wooden keg.
“Homemade from wild grapes,” he said with a grin. “We found them not too far from here.” He turned the tap on the side of the keg; a deep-red liquid flowed out into the waiting glasses. When everyone had been served, he raised his own glass and said, “We want to welcome you both to Orange, and in the future we hope to welcome more members of your community as well. We’ve been saving this wine for a special occasion, and we all agree it’s pretty special to have you here. This has been a crazy few days for all of us, I know, but the outcome has been just wonderful. Nevertheless, we’d like to apologize to Michael for the incident of, uh, false arrest—”
Michael actually laughed. “You can lock me up in your library anytime,” he said.
“We understand that. So we’ve taken the liberty of making a library card for you.”
Steve handed over a small flat piece of wood with the letters ORANGE PUBLIC LIBRARY burned into the surface.
Everyone clapped; Michael beamed. Steve turned toward Janie. “And we want to thank you for saving one of our daughters.” This produced reverential murmurs of agreement all around the table. He handed a small package to her, wrapped in pretty blue cloth and tied with a linen-looking ribbon. Janie undid the small bow and opened the folds of the cloth to reveal a carved wooden heart suspended from a leather strap. She tied it around her neck and showed it off.
“Thank you,” Janie said, “but it wasn’t only me. Kristina deserves more of the credit than I do. She was the one who came up with the means of making insulin. I wouldn’t have known where to start.”
“Nevertheless,” Steve said, “you knew what to do with it, how much to give her—we haven’t had a medical person here in a very long time. Lany has had some training and does what she can, but having a doctor now and then would just be wonderful.”
And then the offer came, more quickly than either Michael or Janie would have expected.
“Let’s just get right to the point here,” Steve said. “We’d like to propose an exchange of sorts. To our mutual benefit. We’ll send our tradesmen to your place if you’ll send your doctor and, uh, I guess we could call her a pharmacist, here. For short periods of time, of course.” He looked back and forth from Janie to Michael. “We need each other. It’s a cruel world out there.”
After a brief silence, Michael said, “We’ve noticed.”
“So…what are your thoughts?”
Janie and Michael looked at each other.
“Give us a moment,” Janie said. They rose up from the table and went to the library.
Michael spoke first. “I’m not even sure why we’re discussing this. It’s immensely sensible.”
“Of course it is,” Janie said, “but I’d have to be away from my family for stretches of time.”
“Some of them would as well,” Michael countered. “Look, Janie, this doesn’t have to be a weekly event. A few days, once every couple of months, you know, like the traveling physicians of old.” He added an image he knew she could not ignore. “Like that chap Alejandro’s daughter did, in the journal.”
He was not playing fair by bringing that up; she made no comment. “What do we really have to gain?”
He said simply, “An easier life.”
Try as she might, she couldn’t come up with an argument against that frank logic. “No more than once a month,” she said. “I do a little clinic tonight and tomorrow morning, then we go back.”
“I think that’s reasonable.”
They returned to the table and presented their response, which, as they expected, was heartily accepted.
“Well,” Janie said to the middle-aged man seated before her, “you appear to be healthy as a horse.”
He was their carpenter. “Must be all that clean outdoor work I do,” he said.
“You’re probably right. Your only real problem seems to be that bit of tendonitis.” She took hold of his wrist again and prodded lightly. The carpenter reacted with a wince.
“I can splint it for you, if you want.”
“It’s not too bad.”
“Not too bad is how very bad starts.”
“How long would I have to leave the splint on?”
“That’s up to you. A few days, then you can take it off and see how it feels.”
“I can still work, right? I have a couple of projects going on.”
“If you’re careful. But it would be better to rest it. Let the inflammation subside. Heat and moisture will help. If you have pain, dip a towel in some hot water and wrap it around your wrist.”
“Anything else I can take—some herb, maybe?”
“White willow bark helps. It has salicins, which are similar in chemical content to aspirin.” She was about to add, I’ll bring back some aspirin on our next trip, but stopped herself. On inspection, she found that the Ora
nge medicine chest was dismal overall, and there were only twelve aspirin tablets—ancient, crumbling, grayed specimens tenderly put away for the proverbial rainy day. Janie doubted that they’d have much efficacy in their chemical dotage; compounds had an annoying habit of disintegrating over time, aspirin included. But even though the materials required for synthesis of aspirin did in fact grow on trees, it would take Kristina’s effort and lab time to produce it. How much they should be willing to donate to the cause could only be determined as the alliance developed over time.
The previous night, before they turned in, she and Michael had talked more deeply on the matter of their new alliance.
We should take it slow, she’d said. We have to be careful about making sure we have what we need before we give anything up.
They’re having the same discussion right now, you know, he’d countered. You’re right, of course; we have to take small steps. It will all work itself out in time.
“I think I’ll forgo the splint,” the carpenter said as he rose up. “But I’ll be careful with it.”
“Please do,” Janie told him. “We’ve got a gate you have to fix when you come to our place.”
The children of Orange all seemed remarkably healthy. She questioned the adults in detail about immunizations—their own and those of the children born in the time before. Everyone over fifty had been immunized against smallpox. Most had survived the common childhood illnesses—measles, mumps, rubella, chicken pox—and the older children had all received the proper injections. It was the younger ones, those born after, who were most vulnerable. But they were not living in the sort of open, integrated society where the risk of infection from such diseases was high; they were sheltered by virtue of their isolation. That said, they still needed tetanus, at the very least, and an exposure to cow pox to protect them from smallpox, should it manage through some dark miracle to find its way out of storage in Atlanta or Kiev.
“Kristina’s going to be very busy for a while,” she told Lany as they prepared to depart.
The electrician, a lanky black man named James, was the first of the visiting “delegates.” The group—Janie, Michael, James, Lany, and Evan—set out on their journey early the next morning, with an extra horse for all their equipment. They made the trip in a little more than half the time required for the ride out.
Alex and Sarah came running when they heard the commotion of arrival. Both stopped short when they saw James.
They’d seen photos and films, but neither of them had ever seen a real human being with dark skin before.
Oh, dear God, please, Janie prayed as she got down off her horse, let them be polite. Blessedly they were, saying only “Hi” when the introductions were made.
“Where’s Dad?” Janie asked Alex when she finished hugging him.
“In the barn. I’ll go get him.”
The little boy ran off; a few moments later, Tom came out of the barn, and when he saw his wife home safely, he dropped the bale of hay he’d been carrying and ran toward them.
“Excuse us for a moment,” Janie said. She drew Tom into her arms and held him close, until courtesy demanded release. It didn’t take long to explain James’s presence.
“Well, I guess my wife’s not the only person I’m really glad to see,” Tom said as he shook James’s hand. He looked up at the sky. “Not that I mean to rush you, but there’s still light enough; why don’t we take a walk out to the powerhouse after you get settled?”
A short while later, as he and James passed through the vista, Tom said, “It’s frustrating to look down there and see all those towers. So useless.”
“They wouldn’t be useless if there was a signal,” James said, almost casually. “Something out there has to be emitting, somewhere.”
Tom stopped and turned around.
“You mean they could be made to work?”
“Sure. They’re just relay points. They don’t really ‘work’ in the true sense. They just pass along a signal that originates from somewhere else. Thing is, they have to be pointed in the right direction. You remember the dead spots, where the cell phones just wouldn’t work?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“That happened when the cells had obstructed paths between them. You know, buildings—”
“Mountains?”
James smiled and glanced up the side of the mountain toward the peak. “Yeah, a mountain might get in the way.”
They moved along the remainder of the path to the powerhouse. James made a quick but seemingly thorough inspection of the equipment. “Looks pretty sound to me,” he said. “But there are things you need to do on a regular basis to keep it that way.” He went through a list of lubrications and calibrations, with Tom paying close attention.
They stepped out into the fading daylight. James looked up at the windmill tower, then back at Tom again. “Do we have time for me to take a little climb?”
“I think so,” Tom said. “Just be careful. You’re the only electrician around here.”
“Always.”
He made his way up the side of the tower like an overgrown spider, his long legs and arms working in a rhythmic vertical dance. In half the time it usually took Tom to make the same climb, James was at the top. He strapped himself to one of the supports at the back side of the rotation unit and looked out over the valley. He gazed around for a minute or two with his hand shading his eyes, then released his safety strap and climbed back down.
“There’s room enough up there for a cell,” he said. “There are two cells down there that we can see from Orange. If we could position them properly, and if there are still cell units on them, we could set up a network between us.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“So let me ask the stupid question. Why not before now?”
James shouldered his sack of equipment. “I’m not sure any of us wanted to be communicating with anyone out there. They’re not all friendlies.”
Tom nodded his accord. “But it could be done?”
“There are a lot of problems to work out—and I mean a lot—but if we had the right stuff, we could make it happen.”
The night was clear and the half-moon cast a soft light on the clearing outside the lodge. Stars blazed above as Kristina and Evan Dunbar sat on a bench near a maple tree. A mercifully light breeze blew the previous fall’s shed leaves around their ankles. Kristina reached down and brushed leaves into a pile atop her boots.
“Why’d you do that?” Evan said.
“My feet are cold,” she explained. “I wish it would get warmer, fast.”
“Me too,” Evan said. “I lived in California all my life until Mom and I came out here,” he said. “I’m still not used to it.”
“What’s it like in California?”
“Now?” he said. “I don’t really know. It was nice before, though. Crowded, but nice. We lived in a good neighborhood, I had a lot of friends….”
“I never got out there…before. I wish I had. I probably won’t ever get out there now.”
“You don’t know that. There’s always the chance you will. Maybe things will get a lot better.”
“It’s going to take a long time before the world is anything like it used to be.”
“It probably won’t ever be what it used to be,” Evan said. A brief gust of wind made him shiver. “But that’s not entirely bad. There were some ugly things about the other world. Some of them I don’t miss at all.”
“Do you miss your friends?”
For a few moments he was very quiet, as if he were remembering something specific. Finally he said, “Yeah. I do miss my friends. A lot. And I miss my little sisters.”
“DR SAM?”
“Yeah.”
“I never had a sister or a brother,” Kristina said.
Evan looked at her in surprise. “What about Alex?”
“Oh,” she said, catching her breath. “I mean when I was younger. Like you had. Your sisters—were they a lot youn
ger than you?”
“Julia was eight years younger—practically a baby. Frannie—she was four years behind me—was just old enough to be a pain sometimes. But she was fun, and she was really smart.” He chuckled a little. “She used to help me with my English homework when I was in junior high school and she was still in grade school. She could spell anything. And she was a whiz at Wheel of Fortune. She could get the puzzles without any letters sometimes.” He smiled at the memory.
Kristina brightened as well. “I used to love that show.”
A spring breeze came up suddenly; Kristina shivered. Very slowly, Evan slipped one arm around her shoulder. She turned to face him and smiled. “Thanks,” she said.
“Hey, no problem,” he said. Then, bravely, he pulled a bit closer to her. “There,” he said. “How’s that?”
She snuggled into his warmth. “It’s nice. Really nice. I’m really glad I met you, Evan.”
“I’m glad I met you too.”
They looked up at the stars for a few minutes before Evan spoke again. “So,” he said, “what do you want to do if things ever get normal again?”
Dreamily, she answered, “Just to live. You know, a real life.”
“Me too, I guess.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. He leaned his head on hers. They sat quietly and contemplated their individual futures. A meteor slashed through the sky above the clearing.
“Maybe it’s a sign,” Kristina said, pointing upward.
“A sign of what?”
“That we’ll live.”
Fifteen
Partway through the reading, Alejandro looked up from the page and said to de Chauliac, “One can hardly call this a letter. It is a poem.”
