The City of Mirrors

by Justin Cronin

  Content as she was, she realized over the months that her journey had not ended. The beach was a way station, a place of preparation for the final leg. When spring came, she broke camp and made her way north. She had no destination in mind; she would let the land speak to her. The terrain grew more rugged: rocky promontories, the heart-stopping beauty of the California coast, towering trees blasted by the salted winds into strange, grasping shapes that cantilevered over the sea. She passed her days walking, the sun’s hands pressing on her shoulders, the ocean beside her, curling and falling; at night she bedded down beneath the stars or, if it was raining, a tarp suspended on a cord between the limbs of a tree. She saw animals of every type: the small ones, squirrels and rabbits and groundhogs, but also larger, statelier creatures, antelope and bobcats and even bears, great dark shapes shambling through the brush. She was alone on a continent that man had conquered and then left. Soon no trace of his long habitation would remain; it would all be new again.

  Spring became summer, summer fall. The days were crisp and cool, and at night she built a fire for warmth. She was north of San Francisco, she didn’t know quite where. One morning she awoke under her tarp and knew at once that something had changed. She emerged into a world of soft white light and silence; snow had fallen in the night. Fat flakes floated soundlessly down from the sky. She tipped her face upward, receiving them. Flakes clung to her lashes and hair; she opened her mouth to taste them on her tongue. A flood of memories engulfed her. It was as if she were a girl again. She lay on her back and extended her legs and arms, moving them back and forth to carve a shape in the snow: a snow angel.

  She understood, then, the nature of the force that was drawing her north. She did not arrive until spring and even then was caught by surprise. It was early morning, the forest air thick with mist. The sea, far below, at the base of a tall cliff, was heavy and dark. In the dense shade of trees, she was cresting a rise when all of a sudden a feeling of completeness overwhelmed her, so arresting that it froze her in her tracks. She ascended the rest of the way and emerged into a clearing with a view of the ocean, and there her heart seemed to stop.

  The field was carpeted with the most lustrous show of wildflowers she had ever seen—flowers by the hundreds, the thousands, the millions. Purple irises. White lilies. Pink daisies. Yellow buttercups and red columbines and many others she knew no names for. A breeze had arisen; the sun had broken through the clouds. She shrugged off her pack and walked slowly forward. It was as if she were wading into a sea of pure color. The tips of her fingers brushed the petals of the flowers as she passed. They seemed to bow their heads in salutation, welcoming her into their embrace. In a trance of beauty, Amy moved among them. Corridors of golden sunshine fell over the field; far away, across the sea, a new age had begun.

  Here she would make her garden. She would make her garden, and wait.

  Epilogue

  The Millennialist

  Indo-Australian Republic

  Pop. 186 million

  1003 A.V.

  The past is never dead. It’s not even past.

  —WILLIAM FAULKNER, REQUIEM FOR A NUN

  90

  Third Global Conference on the North American Quarantine Period

  Center for the Study of Human Cultures and Conflicts

  University of New South Wales, Indo-Australian Republic

  April 16–21, 1003 A.V.

  Transcript: Plenary Session 1

  Welcoming Address by Dr. Logan Miles

  Professor and Chair of Millennial Studies, University of New South Wales, and Director of the Chancellor’s Task Force on North American Research and Reclamation

  Good morning and welcome, everyone. I’m happy to see so many esteemed colleagues and valued friends in the audience today. We have a busy schedule, and I know everyone is eager to get started with the presentations, so I will keep these opening remarks brief.

  This gathering, our third, brings together researchers from every settled territory, in virtually every field of study. Among our numbers, we count scholars in disciplines as various as human anthropology, systems theory, biostatistics, environmental engineering, epidemiology, mathematics, economics, folklore, religious studies, philosophy—and on and on. We are a diverse group, with a range of methodologies and interests. But we are united by a common purpose, one that runs far deeper than any specific field of study. It is my hope that this conference will serve not only as a springboard for innovative scholarly collaboration but also as an occasion for reflection—the opportunity for all of us, individually and collectively, to consider the broader, humanistic questions that lie at the heart of the North American Quarantine and its history. This is especially important now, as we pass the millennial mark and the project of North American reclamation, under the authority of the Trans-Pacific Council and the Brisbane Accord, moves into its second phase.

  A millennium ago, human history very nearly came to an end. The viral pandemic we know as the Great Catastrophe killed over seven billion people and brought humanity to the edge of extinction. Some among us would assert that this event was an arbitrary occurrence—nature’s way of shuffling the deck. Every species, no matter how successful, eventually encounters a force greater than itself, and it was simply our turn. Others have postulated that the wound was self-inflicted, the consequence of mankind’s rapacious assault upon the very biological systems that sustained our existence. We made war on the planet, and the planet fought back.

  Yet there are many—and I count myself among them—who look at the history of the Great Catastrophe and see not merely a tale of suffering and loss, arrogance and death, but also one of hope and rebirth. How and where the virus originated is a door that science has yet to unlock. Where did it come from? Why did it vanish from the earth? Is it still out there, waiting? We may never know the answers, and in the last instance, I pray we never do. What is known is that our species, against the greatest odds, endured. On an isolated island in the South Pacific, a pocket of humanity survived, eventually to spread the seeds of a reborn civilization across the Southern Hemisphere and establish a second age of humankind. It has been a long struggle, fraught with peril, and we have far to go. History teaches us that here are no guarantees, and we ignore the lessons of the Great Catastrophe at our peril. But the example of our forebears is no less instructive. Our instinct for survival is indomitable; we are a species of unconquerable will and the capacity for hope. And should that day come again when the forces of nature rise up against us, humanity will not go quietly.

  Until very recently, very little of substance was known about our ancestors. Scripture tells us that they made their passage to the South Pacific from North America, and that they carried with them a warning. North America, it was said, was a land of monsters; to return was to bring death and ruin down upon the world once more. Until a thousand years had passed, no man or woman should set foot there. This injunction has been a central tenet of our civilization, encoded as law by virtually every civic and religious institution since the foundation of the republic. No scientific evidence has heretofore existed to support this claim or, even, its source. We have, so to speak, taken the matter on faith. But it lies at the core of who we are.

  Much has changed in the last few years. With the discovery of the ancient writings we know as “The Book of Twelves,” new light has been shed on the past. Concealed in a cave on the southernmost of the Holy Isles, this text, of unknown authorship, has for the first time lent historical credence to our common lore, even as it has deepened the mysteries of our origins. Dating from the second century A.V., “The Book of Twelves” recounts an epic contest on the North American continent between a small band of survivors and a race of beings called virals. At the center of this struggle is the young girl Amy—the Girl from Nowhere. Possessing unique powers of body and spirit, she leads her fellows—Peter, the Man of Days; Alicia of Blades; Michael the Clever; Sara the Healer; Lucius the Faithful, et al.—in the fight to save humanity. The tale and i
ts cast of characters are familiar to all, of course. No document in our history has been the subject of as much study, speculation, and, in many cases, outright skepticism as this manuscript. Certainly elements of the narrative are far-fetched, more the province of religion than science. Yet from the moment of its discovery, nearly everyone has agreed that it is a document of extraordinary importance. That it should be found in the Holy Isles, the cradle of our civilization, forges the first tangible link between North America and the lore that has shaped and guided us for nearly a millennium.

  I am a historian. I deal in facts, in evidence. My professional creed dictates that only through the prisms of doubt and patient scholarship can the truth of the past be revealed. But one thing my various travels in the past have taught me, ladies and gentlemen, is that behind every legend lies an element of truth.

  May I have the first slide please?

  <~?~ART 002 TK: Twin maps of North America, circa the year zero and 1003 a.v.>

  Since our return to North America, thirty-six months ago, a great deal has been learned about the state of the continent both before and during the Quarantine Period. These side-by-side images represent two very different North Americas. The contrast could not be more vivid. On the left we see a reconstruction of the continent as it stood in the final years of the American Imperial Period. Cities of millions dominated both coasts. Unsustainable agricultural practices had decimated virtually all of the continent’s interior plains. Heavy industry, powered by fossil fuels, had rendered vast swaths of land virtually uninhabitable, the soil and water fouled by heavy metals and chemical by-products. Though some wilderness remained, primarily in the alpine regions of the Appalachian uplift, the northern Pacific coast, and the Intermountain West, there is little doubt that the image represents a continent, and a culture, consuming itself.

  On the right we see North America as it now stands. Airship reconnaissance, conducted from floating platforms situation beyond the two-hundred-mile quarantine line, has revealed a pristine wilderness stunning in its organic diversity. Virgin forests now rise where once stood huge cities and poisonous industrial complexes. Gone are the tamed fields of the continent’s interior plains, replaced by grasslands of incomparable biological richness. Most significantly, a majority of the great coastal metropolises, including New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Baltimore, Washington, D.C., Miami, New Orleans, and Houston, have all but disappeared, subsumed by rising sea levels. Nature, as is its wont, has reclaimed the land, wiping away the leavings of the imperialistic power that once radiated from its shores.

  Powerful images, indeed—but hardly unexpected. It is at ground level that our most startling findings have occurred.

  Next slide?

  <~?~ART 003 TK: Two mummified viral corpses side by side>

  These mummified remains, one male, one female, were recovered twenty-three months ago in an arid basin at the foot of Southern California’s San Jacinto Mountains. Their monstrous appearance is inarguable. Note the elongation of the bones, particularly those of the hands and feet, which have taken on a clawlike aspect; the softening of the facial support structure, creating an almost fetal blandness, devoid of personality; the massive jaws and radically altered dentition. Yet, surprisingly, genetic testing indicates that they are, in fact, human beings—a paramutational counterpart of our species, endowed with the physiological attributes of nature’s most fearsome predators. Excavated at a depth just under two meters, these remains were found in the midst of many others, suggesting a mass die-off of some kind, probably occurring at or near the end of the first century A.V.—the same time frame to which carbon dating has attributed the writing of “The Book of Twelves.”

  Are these the “virals” that our forebears warned us of? And if they are, how did these dramatic changes come about? To this there appears to be an answer.

  Next slide?

  <~?~ART 004 TK: Two viruses side by side>

  On the left we see the EU-1 strain of the GC virus, taken from the body of the so-called “frozen man,” a polar researcher who succumbed to the infection a millennium ago. This virus, we believe, was the primary biological agent of the Great Catastrophe, a microorganism of such robustness and lethality that it was able to kill its human host within hours and virtually wiped out the world’s population in fewer than eighteen months.

  I draw your attention now to the virus on the right, which was extracted from thymus tissue of one of the two corpses found in the Los Angeles basin. We now believe this to be a precursor to the EU-1 strain. Whereas the virus on the left contains a considerable quantity of genetic material from an avian source—more specifically, Corvus corax, known as the common raven—the one on the right does not. In its stead we find genetic material linking it to an altogether different species. Though our teams have yet to identify this organism’s genetic author, it bears some resemblance to Rhinolophus philippinnensis, or the large-eared horsehoe bat. We are calling this virus NA-1, or North America–1.

  In other words, the Great Catastrophe was not caused not by a single virus but by two: one in North America and a second, descendant strain that subsequently appeared elsewhere in the world. From this fact, researchers have built a tentative chronology of the epidemic. The virus first emerged in North America, infiltrating the human population from an unknown vector, though in all likelihood a species of bat; at some later point, the NA-1 virus changed, acquiring avian DNA; this new, second strain, far more aggressive and lethal, subsequently made its way from North America to the rest of the world. Why the EU-1 strain failed to bring about the physical changes caused by NA-1 we can only speculate. Perhaps in some instances it did. But by and large, the consensus of opinion is that it simply killed its victims too quickly.

  What does this mean for us? Put succinctly, the “virals” of “The Book of Twelves” are not fiction. They are not, as some have claimed, a mere literary device, a metaphor for the predatory rapaciousness of North American culture in the B.V. period. They existed. They were real. “The Book of Twelves” describes these beings as a manifestation of an almighty deity’s displeasure with mankind. That is a matter for each of us to weigh in the privacy of his of her own conscience. So, too, is the story of the man known as Zero and the twelve criminals who acted as the original vectors of infection. Speaking for myself, the jury is still out. But in the meantime, we know who and what the virals were: ordinary men and women, infected with a disease.

  But what of humanity? What of the story of Amy and her followers? I turn now to the matter of survivors.

  Next slide?

  <~?~ART 005 TK: Map of North America, overlaid with three points: First Colony, Roswell, and Kerrville>

  As everyone here certainly knows, it has been an exciting year in the field—very exciting, indeed. Excavations of several newly discovered human settlements in the North American West, dating from the first century of the Quarantine Period, have begun to bear fruit. Much of this work is still in its infancy. Yet I think it’s no understatement to say that what we’ve uncovered in the last twelve months alone has signaled a truly radical reconceptualizing of the period.

  Our understanding of the early Quarantine Period has long presupposed that no human inhabitants remained in North America between the Equatorial Isthmus and the Hudson Frontier Line following the year zero. The disruption to the continent’s biological and social infrastructures was believed to have been so complete as to render the continent incapable of supporting human life, let alone any kind of organized culture.

  We now know—and once again, the last year has been extraordinary—that this view of the Quarantine Period is incomplete. Indeed, there were survivors. Just how many, we may never know. But based on the findings of the last year, we now think it possible, indeed very likely, that they numbered in the tens of thousands, living in a number of communities throughout the Intermountain West and the Southern Plains.

  The size and configuration of these settlements varied considerably, from a mountaintop villag
e housing just a few hundred inhabitants to a city-sized compound in the hills of central Texas. But all give evidence of human habitation well after the continent was thought to have been depopulated. These communities also share a number of distinctive traits, most significantly a culture that was both classically survivalist and, paradoxically, deeply attentive to the social practice of being human. Within these protected enclaves, the men and women who survived the Great Catastrophe, and generations of their descendants, went about their lives, as men and women do. They married and had children. They formed governments and engaged in trade. They built schools and places of worship. They kept records of their experience—I am speaking, of course, about the documents known to everyone in this room, indeed to people throughout the settled territories, as “The Book of Sara” and “The Book of Auntie”—and, perhaps, even sought contact with others like themselves, beyond the walls of these isolated islands of humanity.

  Using “The Book of Twelves” as a road map, research teams on the ground have identified three such settlements, all named within those writings. These include Kerrville, Texas; Roswell, New Mexico, the site of what has been called the “Roswell Massacre”; and the community we know as First Colony, in the San Jacinto Mountains of Southern California.

  May I have the next image please?