Dear Biggs,
Happy anniversary! I'm writing this on the fifth anniversary of your Baptism. Everyone's gathering food together for the anniversary of A-Day. One advantage to having those days so close together: I'll never forget either.
I have no idea how long this will take to reach you. I've decided to join the Restoration Teams. They're right: We've got a lot of Restoring to do. I hear that the Storms are still going, in less populated areas. The world is still completely out of whack, and just because the people are protected; we can't leave it like that.
The last few months have been great. You never got to go to a KH Working Bee, but it's the best workplace I've ever been to. We used to go door to door with Bibles. Now we go town to town with shovels.
That pup who adopted you isn't alone. Every time we come near one of the cities, we see all manner of wildlife taking over the place. There's no 'territorial' instinct any more. The dogs aren't forming into packs; they're helping each other out. They're even helping us. I get the feeling that they like being around people again.
On that subject, we've mostly avoided the big cities, but there's plenty to do outside them. We're both city kids, but it's amazing to me just how much open space there is. For all their size, a city only took up a small amount of the world. I remember you used to like the post-apocalypse movies, growing up. I'm betting you could never imagine anything like this. I admit, I thought we'd be scavenging for food and clothing in the rubble.
Well I was wrong. I've been planting trees for a year now, and my clothes haven't so much as lost a thread. We met up with another Team who are digging irrigation lines, now that the sewers are cleaned out; and they say the same thing. In fact, they were at one of our previous works a month ago. Among all the trees we planted, some of them were fruit trees. Apparently, they're ready for harvesting. It's over a year too early, but we're already getting food from the trees we planted.
Brother Keane, who leads our group, says there's scriptural precedent for this. He says that the only time in history when God was in charge of a nation of people was Ancient Israel; and when they were faithful, they were blessed with protection, good harvests, good weather, etc. It's a comparison that has people a little nervous, since the entire history of Israel was them turning away from Jehovah, then regretting it.
In the meantime though, I'm really enjoying the work. Hope your travels are doing the same for you. In other news, I've found a few people here who are interested in art. It's an amateur group, but there aren't many professional anythings left; and we've got great inspiration these days. If nothing else, it's a great group of friends. We're working with the Restoration most of the day; meeting up at night. I never realized how much time I spent with the TV until I didn't have one anymore. And I didn't even like the stuff on TV. Enclosed is one of my first sketches with the group. Try not to laugh. I'll improve.
Love, Kit.
~~/*\~~
Dear Kit,
I made it to South Asia last week; currently on my way to India. Remember, back when you were working a Postal Route, you told me that transport and communications were the priority? Well, even ten years after A-Day, they're still trying to get transportation set up.
It's easy to get lost in a crowd here; but I still have a little trouble with them, so I've been taking slower routes. No hurry, after all. But in this part of the world, there's a huge number of people on the move. It took me a while to figure out why. These people aren't looking for relatives or old friends.
Turns out the last ten years have been a mad scramble to this side of the world for many people. The modern day Witnesses were based out of New York; and that's a ghost town now. But the ratio of JW's in the States was 1 in about 300, give or take. Here in Bangladesh, it was one in more than half a million. Cities, towns, the whole country feels incredibly empty.
And then there are the kids to worry about. The Brothers here are doing a great job, but I kid you not when I say that the 'post-apocalypse' movies were low balling it. Most of these kids are young-adults now, so I missed the worst of it; but I've got more than a few stories to pass on when we see each other again.
The ancient lands and the most populated ones are suddenly the most empty. There was a much smaller proportion of JW's here than in other parts of the world. You get a very clear sense of how the human race has changed; and I don't mean in the way they treat each other.
I never told you why I picked India as my next stop, did I? Garret wanted to go there. He liked the food. He figured it would be a place to start over. He even invited me once. Just one of those conversations that prisoners have when trying to pass the time. I told him I loved the food too, but I doubted I'd go, since I'd never be able to handle the crowds. Joke's on both of us, it seems.
Keeping you in my prayers,
Biggs.
~~/*\~~
Dear Biggs,
After thirty years, I think I might have finally found my dream spot. Enclosed are some pictures of the area. The Brothers in this Region have settled the Plains, about three hundred miles west of where we grew up. The trees we planted have become a forest full of animals. I walk there every day. The animals don't scamper away anymore. I feel like a Disney princess, walking in the woods and having little foxes and doves come to my hand for food.
The Resurrection found our territory again. A former Elder came back recently. I've heard lots of stories about him at his 'Funeral' and Welcome Back Party. I found out that almost everyone's finding people that they thought they'd never see again; and a lot of them are hiding it from me, since I don't have as many Reunions ahead.
I admit, it stings.
But I've made some new friends. The Returned are all very excited to meet people who went through The Big Day. Having a lousy past somehow makes the story better. Looks like we found that silver lining after all. And one of them was an architect, so I got a lot of help designing my future home. I promise, I'll always have room for you. (Hint, hint)
The progression of the Returning seems to be steady, so those empty ancient lands you told me about years ago? They won't be empty for too much longer. Remember, there were whole nations of believers in Bible times. They're all Gold Letters too.
All my love,
Kit.
~~/*\~~
Dear Kit,
With the close of our first century, I round out the Tourist Trap Tour with an International Convention in Egypt. They were right; the Pyramids are gone. Not that I didn't believe it, but it was kind of like believing that we'd see Miracles. It seems like something beyond real. Those stone buildings were iconic, and they'd been there since before Christ. It seems beyond comprehension that we live in a world where they're swept away.
It made me think. God was there before those pyramids. I mean, of course He was. We always knew that, but Jehovah was there when the Pyramids weren't just Tourist locations. They were tombs. Temples of false gods. And it had to be an act of pure Satanic spite that they were built by Hebrew Slaves. Those Pyramids have been a fact of human existence so long that it's hard to picture a time before them, but they're a tick of a stopwatch to God.
And the thing that made me flip out, was the idea that I could live just as long. I remember Garret telling me once that life only mattered because it was short. We'd get numb and dull if we lived forever. Big talk from a man who'd never been more than twenty feet from his cell for a decade or so.
I have spent a century without jet aircraft, travelling the world. A lot of it on foot, and I have never gone hungry or thirsty once. I wanted to visit all the 'postcard' places; but it's truly amazing how few of them are left (the human made ones, anyway). All the things that were just always 'there' were taken away completely. I spent so much of my Pre-Paradise life just staring at walls. Now I've hiked the Appalachians. I've spent a century feeling like I'd wake up any minute. How many people have said that, do you think?
Probably more than I think these days.
Love,
Biggs.
~~/*\~~
Dear Biggs,
It's been a few months since you last stayed for a visit, and I wanted you to know that I've taken your photo album to heart. All those pics of various homes and designs across the world? I've spoken with the building committee here, and they say it's something of a trend; to want a more… international style in your houses.
I've saved every picture you sent me, pressed in my scrapbook, which is now seven volumes long. I can't help but notice that the places you've stayed over the years have been evolving. I remember, straight after A-Day, you settled in a one room apartment above an empty storefront. It had one window, almost the size of the windows in your cell. I look at the places you're staying now, even if only for a few days at a time. You pick the places with huge windows. It's amazing to flick through the pages and see the progression.
I've rejoined the Restoration. The trees I personally planted have turned into a forest, and now we're harvesting it for lumber if you can believe that. There's been years of study, working out habitats for animals in the area. The decision was made that part of the Restoration included the animals. So the 'Forest' we've planted is going to be shifted east, planting more trees on one border; and harvesting some lumber from the west. They want to leave the roots in; so that the trees will resprout.
The Conference is sending out the stats. We need another 1.5 trillion trees, just to fix the atmosphere. And I think we might get there a lot faster than anyone thinks. The Restoration is looking into recovering things from the Cities. Just raw materials for now, but it's going to expand.
What you said, years ago, about how the Pyramids gave you an appreciation for God's perspective? Well, I've got it now too. I've seen forests spring up. We planted them; but God made them grow. It's more than just appreciating nature. It's like looking at life force. I've hand-fed wolfcubs, and I've climbed trees that were hundreds of feet tall, without a tiny fear of falling.
See you next time,
Kit.
~~/*\~~
Dear Kit,
Sorry it's been so long since my last letter. I only got your last two recently. I've only had a fixed address for a few weeks.
I actually ran into Elizabeth last month, near Philly. I met her new husband; and her father. Her husband was returned some years ago; and I sat in on a study with him once. Her father was an Activist. Apparently his Returning was recent. He’s still in shock, looking around at a world that had somehow achieved all the things he'd wanted to create in OS.
I remember thinking that all the old dreams are now the most basic facts of our world. Universal good health, equality between the races, crime wiped out. But it's more than just that. In my travels I have spoken with an awful lot of people; and they all agree: Dreams are coming true.
Like you with your art. You always wanted to make it as an artist. I remember, ever since we were kids; you couldn't stop drawing. Life hit us hard, and you never picked up a paintbrush again. I never claimed to know anything about art; but I know that some skills take time. Time was a tricky animal in OS. I remember, in our literature, they warned us not to take time away from Spiritual Matters. I remember it made me laugh; given that time was all I would ever have. But anyone who dreamed of being an artist, like you? You could fill the world with artwork if you wanted.
I met a man last month, who was welcoming his brother back. His brother wanted to be a guitarist, worked and practised for decades... but then an accident busted his hand. Bitterness robbed his life. His younger brother became a Witness, and he was waiting at the reunion with a guitar. I met another guy in New Roma, who loved soccer. He wanted desperately to go pro, but he got the Truth. He couldn't make the change; poured everything into making it onto a professional team. He missed his chance by a narrow margin, and then got too old to keep going as a professional star. He got right with Jehovah in time; and dreaded A-Day. He thought that the choice he made proved his heart wasn't really in the Truth. But he's here, and he's young enough to play football again, a sport that no longer puts being a winner above being a good man.
Biggs.
PS: I got your last sketch. It's amazing. I'm afraid to put it down, so I'm getting it framed.
~~/*\~~
Dear Biggs,
Something new this time. A postcard. The picture on the back was one of mine. There's a guy here who turns pictures and sketches into postcards. I've got a little stall at the local market; selling my artworks in postcard size. It's surprisingly popular, because as people come back, they're full of questions about the world. We took our inspiration from wrecked cities turning into forests and farms; so it's like a photo album you can mail; or keep, to show others yet to come back.
I heard you've left Shanghai. The letters got forwarded again; and apparently nobody was sure where to send it to. You running again?
Also, next time you're in town, there's someone I want you to meet. He's a good guy a friend. A good friend.
Love, Kit.
~~/*\~~
Dear Kit,
I've settled in Tibet. I've been staying in a home with an ice sculptor, who has been kind enough to teach me; in exchange for some work on his house. That's right, I'm learning to ice sculpt. Here at the roof of the world, the air is thin, but the ice is plentiful. There's a small collective forming around the art. Enclosed are some photographs and sketches of what they came up with this year.
Yeah, I guess you could call it 'running', but after this long it's ceased to be a personality flaw and become a part of my personality. I've met people who live on the road. Autonomous vehicles are starting to include mobile homes too. I asked them about it; and they say it's useful to keep their possessions from accumulating. Truthfully, I think they just like the travel. Everyone's seen more of the world than they did in OS. Met one guy who carries a rolled up buckskin blanket. He's been walking across the world for more than two hundred years, just laying down wherever he is when the sun sets.
I know you think I'm living like Peter Pan, refusing to grow up and settle somewhere; but it has advantages. I can do things now. I can cook. I can drive. I can fix things. I can live wild, and I can build a house. I can play instruments and navigate by the stars. I can do things now.
When this world started, I told you I was looking for something. I don't think you believed me. Maybe I was running away, but something's changed now, sis. I feel like I'm running towards something towards everything. The world feels like a moving target. Everywhere I look, there's something unique happening, something new. If I stop, I'll miss one. My memory is close to perfect now; so I can take them all with me…
How can I stop now?
Love, Biggs.
~~/*\~~
Dear Biggs,
I don't disagree, but everyone I know who travels the world? They all have a home to come back to. Or at least the people to provide one someday. You're bouncing around the planet like a pinball.
Look at it this way: All those people you've met? Have you seen any of them again? If you were following the freeholds, or the unique places, or even the sports events; sooner or later you'd wind up in the same place for a second time. And if it takes a hundred years to see two 'ice sculpting' festivals with the same competitors, then surely their work will improve dramatically with a century of practise. Have you ever gone back to see any of these people again?
After centuries of moving on, do you feel like there's one place where you could happily stop? Of all the skills you've acquired, is there anyone you want to share them with? Of all the stories you have to tell, does anyone else (besides me) know them?
If the answer to any of these questions is yes, then consider the matter dropped; and I wish you luck.
But if the answer is what we both know it is? Then yes, Peter Pan; I'm worried.
Kit.
~~/*\~~
Dear Kit,
We had dinner here the other night, and they had meat. Actual meat. Well, actual fake meat. I remember they had that in OS, right at the end. It's never been a priority, but I guess after this long, we finally got there. The Expo sent a 'tank' to each community in the Region. I've seen it. It grows meat and poultry, the same way they grow plants.
It's been centuries, but beef still tastes the same. I have that on the word of a Blue Letter who's really been missing his cheeseburgers. The tank is about the size of a water heater, but it's an appliance, like any other.
Tell Kasuf I asked. Lamb is on the menu too.
With regards to your last comments, I've given the matter some thought. Like all such reminders from you, it's accurate; and tactful as a hurled brick. To that end, I've decided to go back on the Restoration Track for a while. I know. It's not the same thing as settling in one place. But it means a more permanent peer group; at least for this Tour.
I'm enclosing my latest notebook. Recipes, photographs, a few other things. Keep it safe for me until I decide what to do next? I've put the house back on the Market. I'll stay on Tour until my number comes up again. Wherever my next allotment is, it'll be somewhere new.
Love
Biggs.
~~/*\~~
Dear Biggs,
Wasn't the Fourth Centennial amazing? The conventions get better with each passing century. I can't help but wonder how long they take to prepare them, or what the last one will look like at the Thousand Year Mark.
Part of the program involved seeing a retrospective of the area. I was looking at the Pictures we took of the area as we started rebuilding. It's amazing. My memory is perfect, or at least getting closer to it, but just because I can remember with clarity how it used to be, it doesn't mean I dwell on such things very often.
One advantage to settling down, I'm watching cities get built in real time. I never would have imagined it like this back then. All the really beautiful glamor shots of nature that we had in OS? All the beautiful parts of the world back then had one thing in common. There weren't any humans in the picture.
It's not like that now. The world is blurred. I can't tell where beautiful nature begins and beautiful cities end. It's possible the whole world may become one huge city, where animals live comfortably alongside cars, and where there's green and living things wherever you look.
I met a man from Bible times yesterday. You know the thing he's most impressed by? My pen. Paper has been around for many centuries. Parchment made from sheepskin and other things since long before that. The fountain pen is something else entirely. Kasuf and I are having him and his wife over for dinner next week.
I hope you don't mind, but I'm using one of those recipes in the journal you sent us. I knew it wouldn't be anything really personal. You'd never send that to your sister's sinister clutches. But I'm glad to hear you're back on the Restoration Tours. You like to ease your way into things, and that's fine. We've got time.
Love, Kit.
PS: Forgot to add: I heard from Elizabeth a few weeks ago. She and her husband have settled at Brooklyn Gardens. They have a market stall there. If you're ever in the area, she'd probably love to see you again.
~~/*\~~
Dear Kit,
Sounds odd, I know; but I think the Angels are sounding more amazing at every Centennial. I wonder if they rehearse like we do?
So. I've finally settled. I know, you thought it may never happen. It took more than five hundred years for me to run out of road. I've been giving my travels some thought, trying to figure out what I was looking for. It wasn't all directionless wandering. There were things I wanted to do solo. A lot of them, really. I had a list three miles long; and I did most of them, or at least ruled out several things as impossible, in the first century.
Remember when I started my travels? Back then, I was desperate to do things that I always wanted to do solo. Took me centuries to do them all.
I've opened a cafe in the Mediterranean Region. There's a lot of people stopping by just to check in with the new neighbor, but they like my coffee. It's a remarkably versatile drink. It would never have occurred to middle eastern coffee lovers to make a latte. It never would have occurred to me back in OS to drink it cold-brew. I've heard some people are worried that the human race would get too ‘standardized’, but I think variety is where the magic is.
And this time, I plan to stay. At least, longer than I have before. You were right. I was running whenever I started to get too close. You thought I was getting scared. You're half right. I was starving back then. Not for food or drink. I was starving for the world, the people… It was like when we turned eighteen and realized we could smoke a cigarette, or go see a dirty movie, drive a car. You give someone freedom like flipping a switch, and it's going to do as much harm as good. I went from a lifelong convict to an equal share of the human race. In OS, when paroled, people still knew I was a jailbird. A lot of the times when it mattered, I was required by law to tell them. One Day After, I could have told anyone alive any story I wanted.
Privacy was never an option in OS. Neither was travel. Taking a shower without being watched. It took me centuries to figure out myself. And then I kept going out of habit. I needed to. But the travel has become a way to avoid settling. My OS life taught me two things, sis. One was to be by myself. The other was to wait out the passage of years without thinking of them.
So this time, I'm not moving on. I've applied for permanent resident status. I know I've made talk like this before. Eternal life means a decade is a pit stop, but I'm looking around at people who talk about all the things they've done over the years. I'm the only one that never puts down roots. It was fine when the world was in pieces, and starting to rebuild. But for all the places I've gone, I don't have a history in any of them.
Wish me luck.
Biggs.
~~/*\~~
Everyone who had come through A-Day had their own eccentricities; at least by the standards of Paradise. Most of the people born after A-Day had no idea why anyone would 'store' food in a long-life way, or why a person might prefer a written letter to a holo-call.
Kit was one of the latter. She'd kept every letter that she and Biggs had sent to each other. Some of them had decayed enough that she took to preserving them, and pressing them into books as a kind of journal.
Postcards were a different matter.
~~/*\~~
Dear Biggs,
I hope you like the picture. It's the new conservatory garden in Brooklyn Tower; designed and built by the original designer of the hanging gardens of Babylon. The sketch was done by Danny. I remember when he was limited to stick figures. His first exhibit opens in three months. I hope it goes well for him. He's been working towards this for years. Kasuf sends his love. Weather is here, wish you were beautiful.
Love, Kit.
~~/*\~~
Biggs flipped over the postcard. The sketch was nearly photo-realistic; and he added it to his wall, next to his sister's last shot, from a dive in Australia's Great Barrier Reef. The recovery of Coral Reefs was one of the long term goals for The Restoration, as coral grew so slowly. Biggs grouped the photo with others that his sister had sent. The color was coming back to the Reef, after years of being bleached white. His sister had sent him shots she had taken the first time diving there; and Biggs put the new photos with them as a way to compare.
The regulars noticed the addition immediately, of course; and they took a look at the latest photo; asking after Kit. After almost forty years working in the cafe, Biggs knew them all. All their preferences, all their families; all their stories.
The cafe was in a good spot. Most people walked leisurely now. Biggs owned the place, but had left the day-to-day running of the place up to one of the Returnees he'd studied with. Biggs himself now worked there only a few days a week. He'd become a master at preparing espresso; and took an extra shift to work on different flavor combinations and preparation methods.
It had taken a surprisingly long time, but they had finally gotten a handle on supplying coffee to everywhere in the world. In the far eastern Regions, it was traditionally served strong enough to melt the spoon; and thickly sugared. In the western hemisphere, it was served less potent, but far more varied. Such traditions were being overturned long after OS.
The Returning was only half done, but those that had arrived early were starting to realize dreams that went beyond good health and long life. Most were still trying to figure out what those dreams would be.
Which made it harder to settle for some of the newcomers.
Today, Biggs noticed a woman come into the store; deep in thought. From the looks of things; it wasn't a happy thought. She was older than the average universal appearance of twenty five years old. A newcomer, still trying to find her footing.
Biggs waved her over and prepared a small sample cup. "Have a taste."
"I'm sorry?" The woman jumped, jarred from her thoughts. "I-I don't-"
"Don't worry, no charge. It's a sample; to see if you like the flavor. Pensive thought calls for coffee." Biggs said with an easy smile. "Try it out. Just something I put together."
She sipped it automatically, and set the cup down, surprised. "That's… awfully good."
"Glad you like it." Biggs smiled. "It's my own recipe. One part coffee to eight parts water. The beans are a mix of Colombian, Costa Rican and Jamaican. You let it steep in cold water for twenty hours, and strain twice. You can heat it up if you want, but for summer? Serve chilled over frozen syrup cubes, which keeps the flavor sharper, rather than regular ice watering down the mix as it melts."
She stared blankly at him. "Just something you put together?"
"Well, after a hundred years, you can do these things without much thought." Biggs excused. "You're a first-timer here, so the first one's free; if you liked it."
The woman finished off her sample. "Sure. Thanks."
"Fruit, veg, lumber, or herb?" Biggs asked automatically.
She stared at him. "I don't know what that means."
"You must be new here." Biggs smiled. "Most of the disposable containers in OS were… well, made of materials that were cheap and easy; but lasted forever. In a world where you live forever, you have to take careful inventory of everything you create. Especially the trash."
"So I've been told." She nodded.
"Nowadays, you can't have anything disposable that will last for all time. We'd be buried in it." Biggs presented her with an empty coffee cup. "You saw the trash bins outside. Notice anything interesting about them?"
"Every one I've seen is the same. Two bins, with wide planters between them." She nodded. "I didn't think anything of it, because I've seen growing things pretty much everywhere in town."
Biggs nodded, and turned the cup over. "Notice the base?"
She held it up to the light, peering through the disposable cup. "There's something in there. What are they?"
"Seeds." Biggs explained. "It's the philosophy here. You consume something, you have to put something back. When you finish this cup, don't toss it in the bin. Crumple it up, and bury it in one of those planters. The cup will rot away in a few days. But what it rots into will provide a measure of fertilizer for the seeds in the base of the cup. The planter will turn your trash into a new plant. Maybe a tree for air and lumber; maybe fruit and veg. Part of the Service is to go around to all the planters and collect the seedlings for a more permanent home." He gestured at the cups. "You have a preference?"
She looked impressed. "Surprise me."
Biggs immediately started preparing the drink for her. "So. Anything I can do to help with your real problem?"
The woman surrendered, and held out her hand. "Helene."
"Biggs." He shook it automatically. "Glad to meet you."
Helene leaned forward. "I was… around the early 18th century. I lost my daughter to the Pox when she was about nine years old. The next fourteen years I lived were not easy. Felt like I would never feel real joy again. I died, and I came back a few months ago. According to the 'database', my daughter beat me back by twenty two months. She's been looked after by a halfway home about twenty minutes from here. A woman named Megan Alman has been looking after her."
"And now she's coming here." Biggs nodded. "To see you again."
"Miss Alman is not eager to have me reunite with her so quickly." Helene admitted. "Because I am not a Believer myself. Not yet, anyway; though most people are convinced it's a foregone conclusion."
"Not forgone at all; but almost all the human race comes to the same opinion about the world at some point." Biggs explained. "The question is; how hard do you wanna fight that? I've seen some people tie themselves in a knot for decades, trying to explain away a world where loved ones come back from the dead."
Helene twitched hard.
Biggs nodded. "Your daughter is about the same age you remember, give or take twenty two months. So if you spend the next ten years telling her that this world can't be real; what happens to her then?"
Helene shivered, and sipped her coffee compulsively. "What happens if she really does walk in that door?"
Biggs' head tilted. "Does she scare you? Because I've seen that before."
"No. Well, not exactly. She's my daughter..." Helene admitted. "I want to see her again. And certainly, I don't think she's evil or dangerous in any way… But she was dead. I mean, really, truly dead. I held the body. I went to the funeral. I packed up her things. And then I spent fourteen years trying to get myself into a place where I could live like that… I never held a phone before, but my daughter's voice was coming from the other end. She called me 'Mama', like she has a million times before; and her voice is exactly the same…" The woman turned haunted eyes on him. "Having her back defies every law of reality ever written. That terrifies me. This isn't a dream. This is real. Certain things are meant to be permanent; and death tops that list."
"Death is the very last thing meant to be on that list." Biggs told her. "Look at it this way: God is Love. So anything you can consider a part of being loved is His thing. Being safe is love. Family is love." Biggs shrugged, making the appeal. "War isn't love. Hunger isn't love. Death isn't love. Can you think of one thing that isn't love; which has become more common while you were gone?"
Helene stared helplessly. "...I spent so long trying to let her go."
"I know."
"I had to fight back… so much. My heart was broken into a hundred pieces, and I had to keep going. I had to switch off all the bits of my heart that didn't work anymore." She insisted, getting emotional. "Telling me that all of that is… That she's just here..."
"I know." Biggs said softly.
And Helene broke down sobbing. Biggs came around the counter and rested a hand on her shoulder. She pushed his hand away and flat out clung to him, sobbing on his shoulder. "I don't even know you!" She hissed.
"Doesn't matter." He promised. "This is everyone's job. In time, someone will come back and need a shoulder to cry on; and you'll be there to provide. Pay it forward, right?" He rode it out for a few minutes until her breathing settled. "Look, I have no children of my own, so I don't get to give you advice, but I've been a part of this world for centuries. Fourteen years of trying to accept the unforgivable is nothing compared to the time you'll have to get used to holding her again. More than five hundred years, and I've never seen anyone be given something they couldn't handle. Jehovah isn't so cruel."
"In my head, I know that. But in my heart, I don't feel it."
"I don't mean you."
She looked over. "What?"
"Your daughter." Biggs clarified. "God isn't cruel enough to give a five year old girl over to a mother who wasn't capable and ready to love her, look after her; and tell her that the world was a safe, happy place; full of loving people."
The woman blanched. "Saints alive, I hadn't even thought…"
"Sometimes when a Miracle is handed to you, the prayer being answered is not your own." Biggs chuckled. "When I became a Witness, the prayer being answered was my sister's."
Helene shivered. "If I can't… If I don't become a Believer myself, what happens to my daughter?"
"Your daughter has what everyone has: A lifetime to look at Paradise and decide that it is good. The same thing you have, Sister." Biggs topped off her cup. "But there's no other world that can offer you your daughter back."
"No. I guess not."
"Worth giving thanks for?"
Helene gripped her cup between both hands. "I don't know how."
"Mama?"
Helene spun. "Nadine!" She lurched out of the chair so fast it fell over, and ran to the little girl, hugging her tightly.
Megan Alman came in, and discreetly went to the counter, giving her space. Biggs slipped into place behind the counter and put a coffee in front of her. "I haven't ordered this." She said absently, still focused on her charge.
"It's the same thing you always order." Biggs responded, gesturing over at the teary reunion. "It hardly seems like a time to experiment with something new."
Megan shivered. "In OS, when they had reunions with separated families, kids adopted out… They'd have the meeting be supervised. There's a lot of heavy emotions involved. When you throw in something as life changing as being brought back from the dead by a God you'd never heard of… There are two lives over there that are going to define most of their beliefs by the next ten minutes."
"Or maybe they'll just see a lost loved one again, and sort it out." Biggs told her. "The kid came back twenty two months ago. That's a big chunk of her lifespan. Long enough to really miss her mom."
Megan glanced over. The tearful hug hadn't stopped for even half a second. "I hope so."
Over at the other side of the room, Helene broke the hug, weeping. "It's all true, isn't it?" She whispered. "I want to say thank you, but I don't… I've never prayed before."
Nadine smiled brightly. "I know how!" She chirped. "Like this!" She bowed her head. "Dear Jehovah God," The girl began. "Thank you for giving me my Mama back. I missed her so much."
Pretending she wasn't staring, Megan sipped her coffee; fighting back a few tears of her own.
~~/*\~~
Isobel was praying incessantly. She'd been back for many years, but this one day seemed more important than all the others put together.
She gripped the Blue Letter in her hand tightly enough to crush it, but said nothing. Her Mama knew what this day meant to her, but nobody else did. Isobel wasn't sure how to name what she was feeling, but she was nearly vibrating with it.
Jehovah God, my father in heaven… She prayed. It's been centuries since I've seen him last. I want so much for Vano to be part of Your family, and live forever with us… with me. I guess there's no point playing coy with You. I was waiting for him, I won't deny it. And as truly grateful as I am to be the one to receive this assignment; I know that it's on me to give him the bad news too… How do I tell him?
The Timer on her Device beeped. It was time.
Right on cue, there was a sound, like someone was inhaling and exhaling at the same time, and the air seemed to shift in density. Almost before she could turn her head to look; the process was finished.
Vano was back.
He looked down at himself, confused. Isobel could relate. Her last memory before waking up in Paradise was being facedown in the dirt; and glad to lie down. Right now, Vano was feeling the effects of fantastic health and vitality. His eyes focused on her next; and she told herself she wasn't posing for him. "Hello, Vano." She said softly. "I've been waiting a long time for this."
His face changed. "Isobel?"
He didn't recognize my face, but my voice hasn't changed. "Yeah." She said aloud. "It's me."
She let him look. She wasn't anything like the last time she'd seen him. He reached out and touched her raven hair, trying to decide if she was real. "You-your hair? It grew back… Where are we? How long was I out?"
"A long time." She admitted, unable to stop herself as she kissed the palm of his hand. "Vano, I have so much to tell you!"
~~/*\~~
It had started with the floors creaking. Alec Ducard had gotten his tools and fixed that. A few decades later, the doors would swing open, the frames warping. Alec had gotten his tools and fixed that. A few decades later, some of the tiles were bulging off the walls and floors. Alec had gotten his tools again.
And finally, in the 600th year since A-Day, with centuries of memories behind them, and centuries of marriage and family woven into the walls; they'd finally realized the problem.
Alec was crawling around under the house, while Beckah waited for him. One look at his face when he emerged was all she needed. "The house is falling apart." Beckah pronounced, unsurprised.
"It is." Alec admitted, and dusted himself off. "Came on so gradually that I barely noticed; but the house is coming apart underneath."
Beckah found that to be a lot funnier than she should. " Everything is gradual, these days. You'd think we, of all people, would know how to read the signs." She admitted. "Is there anything that can be done?"
"The foundations aren't just weakening; they're rotting." Alec sighed. "We have hit the point where it's just too old. We've replaced every part of the house at least twice; but the supports of it are going now."
Beckah sighed. "It was our first time building a house together, love. We spent most of the first two centuries planting trees. Reconstruction was someone else's job."
"As much as I'd like to claim inexperience, this one is on me." Alec admitted. "All those years, centuries, in fact; that I spent remodelling… Looks like I pushed the bones of the house too far." He winced hard. "I'm sorry, Beckah."
"Can we fix it?"
"We can, but after so many years of pulling it apart and putting it back together differently… It might be better to just… Build something new."
He said it like it was a terrible thing, and his wife hugged him tightly. "It's not going to be so bad." She admitted. "Most everyone we know has gone global at some point, time-sharing houses and getting a fresh start in other places…"
"Hugh asked me the other day, why we didn't do that ourselves." Alec admitted; leading her back inside. "I told him we got our globetrotting done in the first two hundred years. But that was centuries ago…"
"Mm." Beckah sighed. "Remember when we met? That was our only roadtrip without having a dozen people with us."
Alec chuckled. "Well… We stay here another few decades, and the house will fall on us. May as well look around, see what's there to see…"
Beckah nodded. "I guess it's time we saw more of Paradise."
"You say it like a sad thing."
"I do, don't I?" Beckah smiled sadly. "I don't even know why."
"I do." Alec commented, but they spoke no more about it.
~~/*\~~
"The weather is a lot more balanced now. Makes the climate easier on everything." Biggs explained. "But that never stopped anyone. I've been to an underground garden in California. It was set up by a Sicilian who immigrated to America in 1906. He couldn't bring any of his trees to the warmer climate, so he dug himself an underground home, more than twenty feet deep; with gaps to let the light in and the heat out. It became a tourist attraction after he died. He took it back over when he came back. You should see the place. Some of the trees are still growing."
Belle smiled. "I'd like to go there one day."
"There's no reason you shouldn't, sweetie." Biggs said with a smile. "I gotta head inside now, okay?"
Belle nodded, and turned to the fruit tree in his yard. "I'll get started here."
"Remember, almost everyone plants trees." Biggs told her. "Some plant for themselves. When I was starting out, I helped plant forests for a while. I still go back there sometimes and add a tree to them. When you grow up a bit, whatever you add will be part of your life. If you want yummy fruit, pick a fruit tree; and I'll show you how to graft when you get a place of your own. If you want to make some furniture, or have a swing in your backyard for your own kids; pick one of the bigger leafy ones. That picture book will tell you all about what each species adds to the world. Take your time choosing. I've got a few of each right here; and you can pick."
Biggs left her and went back into his cafe. The smell of various fruit blossoms were thick in the air around the place. Megan had been bringing some of the foster kids to Biggs' Cafe to meet their parents. The younger kids needed help learning patience. The older kids needed help being ready for the reunions, emotionally.
"Why teach her backyard stuff?" Toby asked. "Surely it's all been done before? If it really mattered, you don't give it to a six year old."
"Same reason we teach every kid how to read and write and do sums." Megan explained. "It's not to discover new things, it's to train them how to learn."
"Reading and writing, sure. But trees?"
"Toby, your young friend out there comes from a generation that thinks fruits and vegetables come from the store, pre-sliced, wrapped in plastic bags. Belle could spend weeks figuring out how the trees in my backyard provide food and homes for all sorts of animals; and then decades growing an orchard of her own if she wanted one…" Biggs smiled warmly. "Welcome to your first lesson in this world. Look closely, because everything has details and layers not easily noticed at a glance. Observe quietly, because that's how you see the ways things live with each other. Because everything lives with everything else. Even the wolfpack plays happily with the rabbits now."
Toby said nothing, processing that. "Coffee?"
"Sure." Biggs made no mention of his new customer's age as he went to the counter to start brewing. If the kid wanted caffeine, he was allowed.
Megan took that opportunity to return. She nodded an acknowledgement to Biggs, glanced out the back window for Belle, and slid into the booth beside Toby. "They've arrived." She said gently. "You feeling strong enough?"
"I ain't weak." Toby grit out. Fourteen years old, he was harder and more cynical than anyone who'd lived for centuries.
"It's not about weakness." Megan said patiently. "Family is a raw nerve sometimes. It was for me."
"They've been back for thirty years. I've been back for one." Toby said tightly to Megan. "Why now?"
"Because now is the right time." Megan said simply.
"That's a cop out."
"No, it's the best part of God being in charge of the world for once." Megan explained. "Parenthood isn't the easiest of skills. It is, in fact, about a thousand tricky skills piled on top of each other. Most parents do the best they can; and some can't hack it. I've been raising people your age for longer than your folks have been alive. Take my word for it: Thirty years of practise and preparation is barely enough for some people. But your folks decided that they wanted to put the work in, and they've prepared themselves to be parents for thirty years; to get it right when you came back. It's not going to be like last time."
Toby licked his lips. "I want to believe that."
"You needed some preparation too, kid." Megan said seriously. "You needed months to get to a place where you could bring yourself to talk to them again. If you're going to take anything I say on faith, let it be this: Love makes the oddest families work. Love for each other, and love for God."
"That's not the same thing."
"No?"
"No. When you don't love people, you make your way without them. We've both had to do that. If you don't love God, then He smites you." When Megan gave him a hooded look, he waved it off. "No, sorry. Forget I said that." He took a breath. "Scary day."
"Okay." Megan nodded. "So. I'm going to go get them. Are you still going to be here when I get back?"
Toby gestured at the counter, where Biggs was working. "I ordered a drink. Can't very well leave now."
She left him then, and Toby wandered over to the counter.
"You didn't fool her." Biggs commented as he placed a large cup in front of the kid. "That line about loving God? You didn't convince her that it was just a joke."
Toby sipped his drink, and winced, not used to the acquired flavor of coffee. "No, I guess not. Look, it's not that I don't think this world is a good place, and there's a lot of things that I can't explain any other way. I remember dying. Now I'm back. I can't really argue with that. It's just… I can't even see God. And I spent enough time being…"
"Hard." Biggs supplied. "Life hits harder than anyone can hit back, so if you want to survive your life, you gotta know how to take the hits."
"Right." Toby nodded. "Everyone here is so wrapped up in 'what we do out of love for Jehovah God' and I just want to scream, because I don't really think it's possible. Not the way people are talking about. How do you love someone you can't see?"
"You ever had a best friend?" Biggs asked him.
"Sure."
"If someone made up lies about him, would that make you angry? When someone repeated those lies to you, would you defend him?"
"Sure."
"If people didn't believe you, if they believed the lies; would you abandon your friend, even knowing better; just because the wind started blowing hard in another direction?" Biggs was leading him through it.
"Of course not." Toby said seriously, and it was the voice of experience.
"If he wanted you to meet his other friends, vouched for them, told them they'd always be there for you… Would you take his word for it long enough to find out for yourself?"
"I guess so."
"And when he does things for you, things you don't even notice at first, are you grateful? When you screw up, do you tell him so, knowing he'd forgive you, because you're his friend too? When he asks for something you don't understand, but he says it's important; do you trust him? When you have something going on, do you talk to him about it; even if he already knows?" Biggs passed him the sugar bowl. "You've been in this world long enough to compare it to the way people used to talk about God. If you can tick any of those boxes, you're not as removed from 'someone you can't see' as you might think."
"Amen." A voice observed, and they both noticed Megan, waiting an unobtrusive distance away. From the smile on her face, she'd heard everything. Behind her were two people that Toby clearly knew. They had tears in their eyes.
"See?" Biggs quipped. "Observe quietly, and you find out much more than you would any other way."
Megan smiled a bit as Toby went to his family. "That was good." She said quietly to Biggs. "That was really good, what you said to him. It was a tricky needle to thread, and you did great."
"I had the same problem when I started studying with my sister." Biggs admitted. "It's been over seven hundred years since I was baptized. My sister had that lesson ready for me after our first week."
"She's a good teacher, then."
"Yeah, but I was a lousy student. At least at first." Biggs admitted, preparing a coffee for her. "I understood everything she was saying, but I didn't have that… appreciation at first. But once she gave it to me that way, I figured out where my focus had to be."
"Toby's like that. He needs the questions; because he won't accept the answers unless he gets them himself." Megan smiled, a little sad. "You should have seen him when he first arrived. He kept checking for hidden cameras every time someone was nice to him. But you'd never seen anyone more protective of the littlest kids. That was how I got through to him. The younger kids always have questions. Toby had to find the answers to some of them… He taught himself more by trying to answer those kids than he ever would have accepted from me."
"I don't think you give yourself enough credit." Biggs offered. "So, how you holding up?"
Megan said nothing.
"You've been bringing kids in here for over two years now. Always when it's time for them to leave. At first I thought it was a good neutral spot; but after I started working at your Orphanage on my days off shift, I know better."
Megan ducked her head a little, eyes tearing up. "It's not easy for the other kids, to see their surrogate 'mom' crying. Some of them come from places and times where you just don't do that." She looked up at him. "Is it so bad to want to spend some time with a friend before I go back to work?"
"Not at all. Just not sure that I'm too helpful in that regard."
"More than you can know." Megan reflected emotionally. "Another one gone."
"Gone, but only as much as anyone is in Paradise. Tell me that your kids don't all keep in touch."
"They do." She admitted, and sniffed a bit. She was fighting it. "I get Anniversary cards every day. Sometimes for their Returning, sometimes for when they leave. The kids remember me because they want to." She smiled softly. "Most of them aren't kids anymore. But every time I get another one placed in a 'forever' home, it's one less. I feel like I'm counting down to… I don't even know what."
Biggs, now one of her closest friends, didn't respond to that, instead putting the coffee cup in front of her.
"Latest invention?" Megan said with a tired smile.
Biggs sat down beside her. "Yup. Made it just for this occasion. Figured you needed the diversion."
She sipped it. "It's amazing." She said, more listless than impressed. She looked over at him. "You remember Chogan?"
"Your Cherokee friend." Biggs nodded.
"Chogan breeds horses. He's really good at it. He taught me to ride… And it took me a long while to be happy about it. I had a real aversion to animals for almost a century. As much as I loved that horse, it was still growing older. Chogan was kind of… instrumental in getting me over my fear of loving things I can't keep." Megan said quietly. "You and I had similar stories, back in OS. Started every day waiting for the knockout punch to come, grew stronger for it… Didn't have a happy life as a result. You got yourself right with God just in time for A-Day. I gave up. I had to do my healing in Paradise."
Biggs nodded, waiting for her to get to the point she was making.
"A century to get over losing pets; and I open an Orphanage." Megan shuddered. "What a glutton for punishment I am."
"It's not like the old days, Meg." Biggs promised her. "We don't forget our friends when we move on anymore. You've placed how many kids since you started working here? Two hundred? Three?"
"Toby makes two hundred and eighty four." Megan sipped her drink. "I still get letters and pictures from most of them. I have scrapbooks to fill a whole library."
"Right. In OS, you were an orphan kid clawing for any kind of family. God gave you kids in every corner of the world."
Megan sipped again. "But they're not mine anymore."
"I'm a Tribulation Survivor, Meg. Take my word for it: None of us belong to any of us; which is how we all belong to everyone. There were a hundred kids for every survivor, on the Day After. Half the Returning involves miscarried or aborted kids, to say nothing of whole generations of people that only had kids because they couldn't prevent them; and other generations where the chances of living past five years old was just a roll of the dice. God's putting far more young ones in homes with good parents than you ever will."
"I know." Megan sighed. "Part of me wishes I just wish I could keep them all."
(Author's Note: As of late 2019, the world population is over 7.6 billion. Doing a Google search by Demographics suggest that 26% of them are under 18 years old. The Bible doesn't specify how old a person is before they take responsibility for their own spiritual being; but likely it's when they're old enough to make an informed choice. In Bible Times, when God took action against a population, the kids were not an exception; with parents being responsible for their children. There has been no official word in any of the literature on how that may be different with regards to Armageddon, or on whether or not these people will receive a Resurrection. This point was mentioned in my earlier books, and this is my own speculation; but given the subject of this discussion, it bears repeating.)
"How is Chogan, by the way?" Biggs asked, and Megan detected just the hint that the question was overly casual. "You still talk to him?"
"Since the wedding? Yeah." Megan hid behind the coffee cup briefly. "After all, we're friends, aren't we?"
"Of course." Biggs blinked. "Didn't know Chogan was married."
"Well, you only met him a few times…" She sipped again. "This is really good." She admitted, lightening a bit. "Like always. Why coffee? Of all the things to devote eternity to..."
"Seemed like an interest that would last forever. Back in OS, I never got the good stuff. Before A-Day, I only bought coffee when it was something flavored and elaborate. Otherwise, why spend money for something you could make yourself at home?"
"Mm." Megan sipped again. "Seven hundred years of experimenting with flavors and varieties, and ratios… At what point do you figure you've got the best you can get?"
"Every year The Expo comes up with a new kind of fruit graft, or a new kind of flavor." He reminded her. "Extinct species of plant are still being catalogued. If your aunt and uncle are really going to go exploring the universe on Year 1001, who knows what happens then?"
"Rachel isn't my aunt. She and Uncle Nick aren't even engaged." She sipped again. "Though everyone seems to assume they're married already. Or will be sooner or later."
"Same assumption I made about you and Chogan." Biggs commented, and immediately wished he hadn't.
There was a short silence, which was surprisingly not awkward at all. Megan found she was pleased; though wasn't certain why.
She glanced at him. "Y'know, it occurs to me that I never really thanked you for coming on board."
"At the Orphanage? I'm only there a few days a week." Biggs shrugged. "You're an amazing mom, Meg. You'd have muddled through."
Megan nodded a bit. "Muddled, sure. But this is Paradise. We have to do better 'muddling along', surely?" She smiled at him. "Some of the kids needed a 'dad' more than a 'mom'. I'm glad to do whatever I can on my own but having you there made an enormous difference to Toby; and I just realized I haven't said a proper thank you."
"What'd you have in mind?"
Megan hid a little behind her coffee cup again. "Lunch? I'll cook."
~~/*\~~
"Maybe the Creative Arts?" Beckah suggested. "There's a Collective working out of the Brooklyn Gardens now; but they're based more towards music than writing… You always wanted to write a book."
"I have." Alec admitted, nibbling on a slice of cheese. "But we're not talking about a Tour, we're talking about something more… permanent. If we're going to strike out into the world for a new start somewhere; I'd rather it be something more…"
"Practical?" Beckah finished for him. "We have been marking time a little bit lately. When Sydney moved out, it seemed like a fine time for a second honeymoon, but…"
"We did our part, with the community work and such." Alec started to say.
"No, not that. We've done the work on our rotation, but we've done it all a thousand times before." Beckah shook her head. "Remember when we first fell in love, we were planting trees and laying roads… The Restoration may not be as urgent as it used to be, but it's still going; and there's a lot more to it than planting trees."
"True." Alec agreed. "You want to go back to The Restoration Committee for a while?"
"Actually, they call themselves the Service Corps now. Sounds kinda militant, but most of their number is former soldiers and Newcomers. But yeah, that was the idea. If we do that, then we could eventually find somewhere to settle. Someplace… new. Full of things we haven't tried our hand at." She hesitated. "What do we do with the house?" Beckah asked. "When we go away for an extended period, we usually put it up on the Database. There's always someone looking to house-sit in this part of the world. But if we're looking for somewhere new… I mean, the whole reason we're starting fresh is because this place won't be around much longer."
"The land allotment is still in our name. We could make it a clean break, let someone else take it over. The vineyards are apart from the house lot." Alec suggested. "They'll probably build their own place on the site; and we get our own new allotment when we find a place, or when one comes up…"
"It should be an adventure. Like when we started out." Beckah admitted. "So why does it feel like everything's ending? There's no such thing as an ending, not anymore!"
"Yes, there is. Time still works, we've just forgotten it, since we don't have to say goodbye to anyone." Alec told his wife gently. "That pen you're holding has run dry dozens of times. Back in OS, you rarely held onto them that long. We've had these ones long enough that the plastic is decaying." He almost laughed. "How long does Plastic take to rot?"
"Centuries. Several centuries."
"We got old, love."
Beckah laughed, a lot more than the comment deserved; and Alec couldn't help but join in.
~~/*\~~
Megan's invitation of 'Lunch' meant a picnic. Her work at the Orphanage didn't allow for much free time; as she was always at the mercy of her charges. But Megan showed up at the cafe as planned with a basket; and Biggs ordered a ride to take them to one of the Community Gardens. At that time of day, they were able to find a spot for themselves. The Gardens were always in use by one group or another, with both animals of all varieties and people on their days off. "Gotta say, when we first met and you told me about the Orphanage, I didn't expect such a rate of turnover." Biggs admitted as he laid out the blankets.
"Nobody wants to be raised in an orphanage. A lot of Returned Kids go straight to their new families; but sometimes that takes a while to prepare. The proportion of kids to adults is pretty high, and a lot of them have experience with being homeless or in 'the system'." Megan told him, setting out the food. "I did. I hated it. Hugh and Kas were waiting for me when I Returned, but I spent a lot of my first year trying to get away, or waiting for the other shoe to drop." Her face clouded. "And it did. If I had to do it over again, I would have done things differently."
"The other shoe?" Biggs probed gently.
Megan didn't answer for a while. Biggs didn't push it. She knew he was waiting for her to decide. If she changed the subject, he would leave it alone. They'd known each other a while, but had never really talked about deep topics. But she also knew she wanted to be honest with Biggs. "It took me a while to accept a loving family." Megan nodded. "So when I grew up and got offered a job taking in kids like me, I knew I had to take it. These kids could be fostered by someone from the start; but… Far better that they get their heads around the difference before they get offered a 'normal' life." She glanced at him. "I got put in Foster homes that made nice sounds, back in OS. It was years before I accepted that the Rules were different here. I wanted to set things up in such a way that the kids at my Orphanage have the New World sorted before they meet their new family. Does that make sense?"
Biggs nodded. "I got the Truth in Prison, just as GT broke out. Following my new faith meant embracing my worst fear for a time. I know the difference between having things change, and having things only seem to be different."
Megan softened. "Well. Maybe five people I know have that distinction figured out right away. I'm glad to have you on my side when we tell it to our young charges." She sipped her drink. "You're right, though. The further this goes, the more of my kids get raised to adulthood; and the more adults there are in the world ready to raise a Returned child. I'm working myself into obsolescence."
"No, you're working to eliminate homelessness. For the first time in history, there are a finite number of people too young to have someone waiting for them when they get here. It's not like we're making more orphans and abandoned families." He told her. "Every day, the list of young people who have been neglected gets shorter; and will run out long before the Thousand Years are up."
"It'll be a good day." Megan agreed. "Still don't know what I'll do on the day after. Have a vacation, I suppose." Her device chimed; and she checked it. "Huh. Family reunion of my own, next weekend. The Ducards are hosting this year."
"Who are the Ducards?"
"Oh, they're a family that have been friends with my folks since before I came back. They were Trib Survivors that met on the Restoration and fell in love. Alec Ducard, he was my dad's Welcome Wagon." Megan told him. "They knew my 'aunt' Rachel before we did, too; so the whole family gets together." She smiled at the story. "In fact, I remember when Nick and Rachel got serious, and he started bringing her to 'family dinner'. It was like a School Reunion and a Family Reunion rolled into one."
"You'd be amazed how often I hear that story." Biggs nodded, setting the now empty basket aside. "The world is an amazingly 'connected' place."
Megan grinned over his shoulder, and Biggs turned to look. A pair of rabbits had suddenly appeared at the edge of the picnic blanket, noses twitching at the arrival of food. Biggs sighed and tossed them part of his sandwich.
~~/*\~~
Nick Alman had been a member of the World's Fair Expo for most of his life. What began as a way to teach older generations of Returned ones about the world they'd arrived at, had now become a Think Tank, and a Research/Development Centre for the whole world. Nick had known immediately that he'd wanted to be part of it; and falling in love with Rachel had been the final proof that he was in the right place.
He and Rachel had met independently of her friends from OS; but the world was full of such 'coincidental' connections, so when Nick found out that Alec Ducard was also one of Rachel's oldest friends, it had been like expanding the family.
'Family Dinner' was a tradition with their extended group, and Rachel had been there before most of them.
Getting her away from The Expo, even for a night, was proving to be the biggest challenge in being with her. "Come on, Rach. We'll miss our flight."
"I know, I know!" Rachel quickly tapped at her Screens. "I'm coming!"
Nick shook his head as he held out her jacket, and she slipped her arms into it. "You know we all live forever, right? Taking a night off isn't a bad thing. We don't even have competitors anymore. Not really. The strongest professional rivalries in history are all cooperating now. Why do you always work like you're running out of time?"
"You know how long perfection takes, Nick." Rachel quipped. "The more complex the system, the easier it is to mess up the works."
"The Preserver is more than good enough for testing." Nick protested. "We've worked on it together for more than three decades."
"'Good Enough' is never good enough." She told him, making long strides. "Come on, if we don't want to miss our flight, we'd better hurry."
~~/*\~~
"Megan!"
About to board the airship with her parents, Megan jumped. It was Biggs, running up behind her. He had a large thermos in his hand. "For your trip." He said lightly, holding it out.
"Why, thank you." Megan chuckled and accepted it. "I'd hate to think I might be forced to get coffee from someone else in the world." She smiled a bit at him. "And you never know. I might start a fanclub for your cafe over in the Brooklyn Region."
"Ooh, a franchise." Biggs chuckled. "Have a good time. I'll have your usual waiting for you when you get back."
Megan tucked the thermos under her arm, and gave Biggs a sideways look; before darting forward to give him a hug. "Be back before you know it." She promised… before hugging him again, quickly.
Biggs made his goodbyes, and Megan turned back to the ship, only to see her parents smiling broadly at her. "Not one word." She warned as she hurried up the gangplank, pushing past them.
***
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