Years passed. The Countdown clock grew closer to zero; and the world was preparing in its usual, gradual way. Material was being stockpiled for construction, land allotments were being procured for construction. All of it was happening in that simple 'everything working itself out perfectly' way that approved projects tended to have. Someone planning to make a major move across the world suddenly found the perfect person to take over their land. Someone looking to sell some excess suddenly found the best price they could get; and life went on.
Grant was busy in his own service. He'd stayed with the Corps in between taking classes. Getting an update to modern education was not an unusual step for newcomers; but Rika couldn't figure out what he wanted to understand. Grant was still cagey, not letting anyone see his plans; and Rika was trying to piece together the information she had. It was getting to the point where Rika was almost willing to ask him outright; which was an unusual step. In a world crowded with honest people; it was uncommon for people not to be open about their interests and their goals. If Grant was keeping his own life goals totally private, it was either the remnants of his old life, or something more serious.
Then one day Grant called Rika and asked her to help him arrange an appointment at the Foundation, and they had the opportunity to meet again. The two of them met in the foyer of the Foundations' main tower; at the entrance to the Arcology.
"You didn't have to stick around, Professor." Grant told Rika. "I don't know if you heard, but you've taught me well."
Rika shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood anyway, and I wanted to talk to Great-Aunt Rachel. Busy as she is, it's hard getting a few minutes unless you make an appointment."
The waiting room they had been in was actually part of the foyer, ground level of the Foundation's Arcology. The tower above them reached above the clouds; but down here at ground level, it was a Visitor's Center, detailing the history of the place. Grant wandered over to some of the exhibits. "I never get used to seeing the familiar, identical faces, in pictures that are hundreds of years old."
Rika chuckled. "I've heard the story a dozen times. The Foundation started out as the 'Conference', just after A-Day. They hammered out the plans for almost everything with a few smart people. Rachel was one of them. She wanted to keep the Think Tank going, more than she wanted anything else. When the other people like her started coming back; it finally had a chance; once she taught them all a few hundred years of science and technology."
"But… before that?" Grant asked, curious.
"Before that, it looked like everyone was content to go home." A voice said coolly from behind them. They turned to see Rachel come over, looking at the framed picture on the wall. "Me, Kevin Bagley, Ingaret… It took more than a century to get it going again."
"But you keep pushing for it, all that time." Grant observed. "I notice your husband is one of the four most influential people in the Expo work today. And you had that post for centuries."
"It was my 'forever' dream." Rachel said sentimentally. "I knew what would make it Paradise, even when nobody else was there yet. I knew from Year One." Her voice went away a little bit, like she had forgotten who she was talking to. "I first came to the Conference, and it actually scared me, how perfect it was. But we got there." She noticed Grant's eyes on her, and broke off; a little embarrassed. "Well, anyway. You had a question?"
"We did." Grant nodded. "Though I fear it may be wasting your time a bit. I needed someone's help to run a simulation on something I've been working on the last few years; and apparently the Expo is who you call for that. I asked Rika to help me connect to someone who could help. I didn't expect it to be with you."
Rachel shifted her look to Rika, who smiled winningly. "I had a whole other question; and as long as there were two of us, I thought I'd have a better chance of getting a visit with my favorite Great-Aunt."
"I'm your favorite. How flattering." Rachel demurred. "I was about to break for lunch with Nick anyway."
~~/*\~~
"You drew these designs yourself?" Nick asked Grant, as they ate a quick meal. "I didn't know you were interested in aeronautics."
"It's… a fairly new hobby. I've been taking some classes." Grant waved that off. "This is the best I can do, but I can only go so far with the theory on my own."
"You realize that everyone owning their own craft isn't really how it works anymore, right? My brother restored an antique, but most people want to get somewhere, they call an Auto, and they can be anywhere in the world in two hours or less."
"I know." Grant nodded blithely. "Consider it an exam question: Could the plane I've designed work?"
Rachel's device beeped, and she checked it. "I… have to head upstairs for a moment." She said as she stood, giving her husband a quick peck on the cheek. "Be right back." It was a masterpiece of understatement. 'Upstairs' went for almost four kilometers.
Rika jumped up. "I'll go with you." She chirped, giving chase. "Rach, there's a rumor going around some of the Collectives that there was, at some point, a plan to make an 'immortality serum', or at least some form of dramatic life extension for animals, maybe even for the Undecided. But the rumor is the plan was squashed by the Judges for some reason…"
"I've been hearing that rumor for the last eight hundred years." Rachel told her as they headed out of earshot. "I'll tell you what I told all of them…"
Back at the table, Nick looked over the blueprints. "I have to admit, they look sound, from a mathematical perspective." He said slowly. "It'll fly, but I don't know what you're planning to build. Or at least, what you want to build it for. There isn't enough room for cargo, and if there are passengers, you'd have them crammed in like sardines." He looked up. "I don't see what this is meant to do. There are cargo craft and passenger craft, and all the Autos have Vertical Take Off and Landing now… I don't see the niche you're trying to fill."
"I'm not trying to create something for Mass Production." Grant shook his head. "Call it a hobby project. If I built it, could it work?"
Nick looked again. "Yeah, I guess so. But there's a difference between 'something that could fly' and something people should fly in. I mean, the only way to make sure is to build it and take it for a test flight."
"I'm prepared to do that." Grant nodded.
"Well, if it comes to that; I can help. But it's over-designed." Nick declared. "You've designed it with too many factors in mind; too many redundancies. You're trying to figure out every possible thing that could happen, and add a layer to your design to account for it."
"Right. Not like a spaceship." Grant shot back with a smile.
"Heh. Yeah, we went through a phase of that too." Nick admitted. "But trying to account for everything that might happen in a place we've never even tried to go to before? It's a race to build the world's heaviest plane; if that makes sense."
"But if you don't, how can you be ready?" Grant asked, genuinely curious about it. "You're building the most unique machine for the most unique task; and all to carry out a dream you've had for a thousand years. How do you know when you've gotten it 'right'?"
"Back in OS, there was an understanding about technology. Nothing was ever perfect." Nick said patiently. "You were a teenager during the Apollo Program days. Apollo 13 nearly lost the crew because of a minor problem with a single electrical wire that shorted out at the wrong time. Challenger blew up because the 'O Ring' washers got brittle during a cold snap. In a machine with a thousand components, one would inevitably go wrong. If it was a light bulb flickering, no problem. If it was a wire next to the oxygen tank, you lose the mission." He shrugged. "We're building a whole new kind of Space Program. 0.1% makes a difference in my world."
"You're saying everything is perfect now?"
"I wouldn't trust my life to something imperfect." Nick said, matter-of-factly. "But the perfect thing I'm trusting isn't the machine we built. It's the One watching over us when we've launched."
"If you know God Himself will pull you out of a crashing ship, why does it need to be perfect?" Grant gestured. "For that matter, why would you need a ship at all? Why wouldn't God just teleport you somewhere else?"
"Same reason we produce our own food. Jehovah created a universe that runs on rules. We aren't goldfish, living in a bowl that only extends six inches beyond our existence forever. He did it so that we could understand the creation. With a pen and paper, I could tell you exactly where Mars will be in a billion years. I've spent half a millennium learning how the universe works. I'm ready to sail this sea."
Grant regarded him. "I've heard people talking about lifelong dreams already being fulfilled, and people trying to find new dreams centuries later."
Nick chuckled. "This has been my dream since I was five years old reading Flash Gordon comics. A thousand years of prep time, building relationships and reputation; and experience enough to finally build this thing… Only three things are effectively infinite, Grant: Space. Time. God. One of these things has given me the second; and the third will take eternity to explore." His voice had taken on that poetic tone that everyone had when describing something they truly loved.
Grant observed this silently. The same tone Rachel got when talking about the Expo.
Nick gestured at Grant's Device. "We can upload this to our computers. Shall we go upstairs and run a few simulations?"
Grant nodded. "Please."
As Nick tapped at the Device for a moment, transferring the file, Grant pulled out his small paper notebook and made a note.
Nick Alman = Shatterpoint: First Mission after Test. Lifelong dream.
Rachel Alman = Shatterpoint: Foundation? Permanence?
~~/*\~~
Nick led the way up to his office. It was the size of a small laboratory, with a desk at each end, and the majority of the workspace in between them. At the opposite end of the room was Rachel and Rika, who waved as the men came in.
Nick waved back automatically, not breaking stride to his desk. "The simulator will model your invention here and tell us if it will fly. It'll also simulate any structural faults, blind spots in the controls, any vulnerabilities to the weather…"
"See, this is what I was saying. Why test for such things if the weather is always going to be perfect and the chance of dying in a fiery crash is non-existent?" He was about to press the point, when he noticed a large model behind Nick's desk. "Ah. Is that the famous 'Chariot'?"
"Chariot is the Project name. We've just christened her 'The Stargazer'." Nick gestured over at a picture of the Galaxy. "Every picture of the Galaxy is taken from within. Every picture of the whole is an artist rendition… But one day, I will personally take the first actual picture of the whole Galaxy we've been in living in all this time." He chuckled. "And then I'll turn around and take a picture of a dozen others."
"It'll take you a million years just to get to one."
"Maybe. But it's the only way to find out what's going on over there." Nick said with affection for a universe he couldn't really see yet.
The Terminal made a noise; and Nick turned to take a look at the simulation. Somewhere in the interim, Rachel had crossed the large office space to join them. It took her less than three seconds to see her first objection. "There's no Auto."
"I know." Grant nodded. "This one will remain entirely on manual control."
Rachel shook her head, amused. "All men make this same choice until about their third century. They always have to feel like they're in full control. Even when the Auto is clearly superior."
"It's superior, but not reliable." Grant countered.
"It hasn't made a mistake in hundreds of years."
"I don't mean the Auto, I mean the entire system in this world." Grant explained, not noticing Rika's twitch. "The whole world is designed around the simple prerequisite that everyone is good." He held up a hand as Rachel started to laugh. "Nono, hear me out: The OS System came apart almost instantly when put under any kind of pressure for a sustained length of time. A two week trucker strike, a three day stalemate in government, a large-scale epidemic… Back there and back then, technology's fatal flaw was that it was dependent on greedy systems, or that they were impossible to secure without sacrificing what they could do. This world solved that by having reliability, and a whole population that wanted to live honestly and helpfully. You've got an army of physically and mentally flawless volunteers; you've got machines that can repair themselves… The world has forgotten that any kind of 'pressure' can be put on the system." He spread his hands wide, as if beseeching. "And I don't believe that's at all safe."
Rachel gave him a hard look. "I can see why you'd think that way, young man." She said evenly. "But you can take my word for it; I know where we can put our faith now. I helped design the infrastructure; and there hasn't been a systemic failure in any of it for hundreds of years. The Preserver alone means the current system can last, literally, forever. The way we've built our civilization is the result of centuries of refinement, innovation; practical testing; and genuine divine blessing." She paused for a moment to let that sink in. "You, on the other hand, have been here less than ten years, and have designed a plane for six people, after taking one course. I don't mean to sound dismissive, Brother. But we are of the opinion that we have some idea what we're doing."
It was a dismissal, and Grant took it gracefully. "Well, yes Ma'am."
Nick tapped at his Console for half a second, and gestured to Grant. "The sims have been run. Shall we go back to lunch?"
As they left, Rachel noticed Rika staring at her with a disbelieving smile. "What?"
"You." Rika almost laughed. "I've heard you go on soliloquies about people who once dismissed you because you were young and female and smart; all at the same time. You've certainly come full circle."
"It's not ageism." Rachel defended. "It's not prejudicial if you're in the right."
"Still, it's not pushing your buttons a little? He was crying 'doom' over your life's work."
"The world is past such problems now, Rika. And your guy over there is one of very few in the world who isn't with the program yet." Rachel held up her hands. "I know, he's baptized now. I'm just saying, it's more than just being right with God. There's a perspective that comes with time. There's no shortcut to that kind of experience."
"Not for me either." Rika reminded her. "Not for most of us, come to that. That's why we had the Bible. Generations of experience to fall back on without having to make the same mistakes."
~~/*\~~
"King Josiah was a child when he took the throne. Surrounded by counselors with their own interests; he could have been intimidated to agree with the adults in the room. Josiah didn't want to make the mistakes of his father, so he got to work driving out false worship; and restoring the Temple. He dispatched his High Priest to find treasures to finance the restoration; but instead he found something more valuable. The Book of Moses. The original Law. We've all been able to carry it around with us in our pockets; but at that time, when False Worship had taken over Israel, it had been lost for years. Josiah found the certainty that he was doing the right thing, backed with these instructions. Where his father and Grandfather had their own judgment, Josiah had the original Mosaic Law itself. After sixteen years; the child king finally had a guide that couldn't be held suspect." Brother Sheridan addressed the audience at the next Assembly, broadcast to every home in the world. "The Law Covenant was more than just history; more than just regulations. It also gave guidelines and instructions about the planting of crops, the division of labor, the protection of True Worship; and ultimately an infallible guide on how to lead a nation while surrounded by enemies."
Grant, in his mother's house, was watching the broadcast with half his attention. The other half was on his notebook. Melody was with him, and peeked over his shoulder. Her son was writing down lists of disasters.
Food shortages?
Technology breaks?
Undecided?
Resources decentralized, but authority very central. Change?
Every one of them had a question mark. Melody wasn't sure she liked the implications, but she said nothing.
"Remember, that the Nation in question also carried the Messianic Bloodline. The whole Hebrew Scriptures can be described as Satan making one attack on that line after another." The Speaker explained. "The Law Covenant had one duty above all others: To identify the promised Messiah. When the Messiah came, Israel was an occupied nation that barely believed; and its faith was being strangled by the additional laws and traditions of its own Leaders. But the Messiah came as promised, and the Law was there to tell the people who thought to look for him." The Speaker gave an ironic smile. "The ultimate purpose of the Law Covenant was to make itself obsolete by its own fulfillment."
Grant smirked. "Have you seen it yet?"
Melody shook her head. "Seen what?"
"The convention series is talking about former Covenants, and how they all end with something better." Grant nodded, as though he'd just been proven right about something important.
~~/*\~~
"This place is eerie." Belle commented. "It's way too quiet."
"Hasn't been a baby born, or a person returned in years, Belle." Rika said lightly, levering up the swingset from the grass. "Not much call for kindergartens and playgrounds when there are no kids."
"That's really scaring my father." Belle confided quietly. "He was a Gold letter. He's never been in a world where there weren't at least some children around. In fact, his generation sort of viewed not having any children as a curse, or a punishment. Having the whole world go that way at once…"
"He knows better, right?"
"He does. We all do." Belle nodded. "But some habits never had to be broken. A superstition like that? It's been a thousand years since anyone had to wonder about their 'status' that way, either by health or by blessing." She looked around the silent playground. "Part of me's glad we're taking it down. I always assumed a world where there were no kids playing and laughing would be a very sad world."
"Look in the mirror, Belle. We played in this playground when we were kids." Rika reminded her.
The school had been closed for years, as there was no longer a need for it. Everyone assumed that birth rates would start again when the Thousand Years were ended, but for now, nobody was going to end the Millennium without being at least a century old. The schools were all empty, abandoned. So were the playgrounds, and other places that the children went to. The world had no children left.
(Author's Note: There is no scripture, or reference in the literature that I could find, as to whether or not this may happen at the end of the Thousand Years. The hardest question to answer with regards to Armageddon was always: 'What about the kids?' and I decided I wasn't going to repeat that with the Final Test. I can't prove it, and I can't find a scripture to support or refute it; but for purposes of my story, everyone faces the Final Test as a fully informed adult.)
With the new instructions from the Organization in effect, the schools were being used as storage spaces, collecting stockpiles of raw material and standard components for construction. Rika's mother was now part of the Transition Team, and had ordered this School be refit.
"I don't get it. Why stockpile like they did in 'back in the Dark Ages'?" Bella asked. "Printers make everything now; from the molecule up."
"I don't know, but I'll tell you something. My dad still has some food stores." Rika put in. "So does his sister. They were Trib Survivors. Maybe it's their kind of thing, I don't know. But almost every Trib survivor I've ever met has at least a few boxes of preserves and such."
"For that matter, why put in food stocks at all? Aerofarms can produce more food than regular farms, and do it inside with almost no human interaction." Belle scoffed. "You can literally grow enough food for a few dozen people in a space the size of a phonebooth."
"What's a phonebooth?" Rika asked.
Belle grinned. "Oh, I found one last month. It's insane. It's like being sealed up in a box to have a conversation. I've been restoring it for weeks. You gotta come by the house; it's the jewel of my collection!"
Rika rolled her eyes. "You are obsessed with Old World nostalgia."
"Hey, there are worse things to collect than history." Belle countered. "They're not making any more of them, so having something in my keeping is the only way to keep it alive."
"The people who were there seemed content to let it die." Rika pointed out.
"The people there didn't have any choice but to die." Belle shot back.
"No, we're not having the 'immortality serum' debate again." Rika rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw double. "For the last time, it was just a silly rumor. The head of the Foundation is part of my family, if there was any truth to it; I'd know."
"Did you ever come out and ask?" Belle pounced when her Device chimed. "They're on their way with the lumber. We gotta hurry, or they'll be sitting on the truck waiting."
~~/*\~~
The LA Freeway Market was one of the most popular marketplaces in the world. What had been a huge expenditure in space and effort for vehicles was now an open air community, working on multiple levels. Some people lived there around the clock; the space beneath the 'road' was large enough for a community to live in, drawing power and water from the huge space above.
The former freeway itself was now a marketplace. Alec and Beckah had been there multiple times; and were currently manning a booth selling bamboo. It was a plant with hundreds of uses, even when the Preserver-Tech meant nothing needed to be discarded or replaced, maybe not ever again.
"What are you reading?" She asked her husband during a lull.
"Revelation." Alec said. "Now as soon as the 1,000 years have ended, Satan will be released from his prison, and he will go out to mislead those nations in the four corners of the earth, Gog and Maʹgog, to gather them together for the war. The number of these is as the sand of the sea. And they advanced over the whole earth and encircled the camp of the holy ones and the beloved city."
"We know a lot more than that now." Beckah offered. "The Fourth Testament goes into a much clearer understanding."
"Yeah, but it doesn't, really." Alec countered. "Not much in the way of specifics, anyway. We've always been told what we needed to know when we needed to know it; going back to the days of the Pharaohs. But think about it this way: How much did we know about Tribulation, and what it would be like? Until it happened, how much did we know?"
Beckah considered the question seriously. "We knew the structure. We knew the sequence of events. We knew how it would turn out."
"And when it happened, we were ready." Alec nodded. "But we've spent almost a thousand years hearing the survivors tell their stories, and they are rich and varied. None of that came from Scripture."
"I don't disagree, but-"
"Now look at Revelation again." Alec turned his Bible towards his wife. "We know the structure of it; and we know the sequence of events, and we know how it turns out in the end. All the things we knew when the last 'Big Test' came. And it's all in three or four verses."
"We know something else too." Beckah offered. "We know 'when'. What would you and I have given for that? If we, before A-Day, had known the year it would come…"
"I guess that's true." Alec put his Bible away. "The thing about prophecy. It's easier to recognize in hindsight."
"Somehow, I don't think that'll be an issue with the Final Test." Beckah excused. "It's not like we didn't recognize what was happening when A-Day rolled around." She was thinking out loud, and was about to continue when the Device in her hand beeped, and she looked at it. "The Database says the Balance requires additional Bamboo. Someone's snatching up all the stuff already in stock."
"That's the fifth alert in two days." Alec shook his head. "Lumber, metal, all kinds of materials."
"It's the Sanctuary Project." Beckah nodded. "We haven't been needing lumber much in the last century. The Printers and Preserver does all of that now. Only the serious craftsmen even use wood or stone now." She gestured at the Bible verses in Alec's hand. "The Directive was to not use Printers or Preserver Technology for the Sanctuary."
"I know, and I still can't figure out why." Alec admitted. "But the Balance Equation means we need to start stockpiling again."
His wife nodded. "We've got a bamboo grove. We should start planting more."
"Bamboo grows faster than trees." Alec offered. "Maybe we plant some trees too?"
"How many trees have we planted, do you think?" Beckah asked lightly. "I mean, in our lives? I wasn't counting."
"Neither was I, but Rachel showed me her OS work on the climate, once. The Restoration needed to plant over 1.5 Trillion trees over the last nine hundred years. They probably finished with double that, providing habitats for animals and lumber for construction." Alec smiled at his wife. "We fell in love planting those trees."
Beckah smiled back. "It was a bit before that, actually. At least, it was for me."
Alec smiled back. "Me too."
Beckah set her device aside. "One and a half trillion? Really?"
"Rachel was a Climatologist. According to her, even at the end of OS, there were still three trillion trees left. We added another third to fix the atmosphere and stockpile some lumber… And the Oceans needed a lot more work than anyone thought..." Alec sighed. "And now we're stockpiling again."
"You know why?"
"There are a few theories going around. We've been watching trees grow since Year Two. I figure we'll have a lot of construction going on in about twenty years."
Beckah chewed her lip. "If it's for… That Day, then what could we possibly be building? The Printers can churn out the parts for a Tower in a month. What are we doing now when there are still years to go?"
"I don't know."
~~/*\~~
Grant had stayed with The Service Corps for most of his time in Paradise. Aimes was an old war buddy of Hugh, and was on Rotation; so they'd met, but never really become friends. The Corps had been receiving new instructions in bits and pieces for almost a month. Grant had come to learn that this was the way of things in this world. Several teams on multiple facets of projects, all working to a common purpose. Sometimes before they knew what it was.
Aimes was seeing the blueprints for the first time. The 'Sanctuary Project' hadn't even been announced yet, though there would be no way to keep it a secret for much longer. The Corps was getting a look at the construction needed. Timetables, materials, instructions on methods. Grant had learned how to take them in stride. In his time with the Corps, he'd built homes, towers, plazas, drainage lines, orchards...
Aimes was only with the Corps one week out of the year; but he'd been around for centuries. Which of them was more experienced was hard to pin down, but Aimes looked at the timetables and wanted to contact the Organization. "This has to be a mistake. What's the rush?"
"Do you not see the Countdown?" Grant was nonplussed. "The deadline-"
"Is ridiculously long. You've seen the Nano-Build. We could put this up in a day once all the raw material gets here." Aimes shook his head. "They say we have to do it the old fashioned way; and I don't get why, but I accept that I'll do as I'm told. It makes no real difference, but-"
"It does make a difference." Grant said. "One way is how we were told to do it, and the other way was how we were told not to do it."
~~/*\~~
"The problem with being the Last Returnee is that you're perpetually the 'new guy'." Grant admitted to Biggs later that night. "Aimes has been building ships and houses and walls for seven hundred years. What do I say to him?"
"You say exactly what you said." Biggs counseled. "I remember when I started studying, I had to rein in every thought that went through my head, and I didn't always succeed. In fact, most of the time I failed. When the hard part started, I had someone to protect, and that snapped me into focus."
Grant nodded. "I got nobody to protect, nobody to muscle. I haven't been a follower long enough to be any good at it; and I honestly can't tell if I'm just being a rotten Witness, given where I started out."
"What? For not being as complacent as others?" Biggs chuckled. "They don't know what we know, Grant. I was there when the Churches were wiped out. Some of them had stood for two thousand years. Still older than any of us, and they'd only gotten more concrete with every passing year. Then, in a day, they were done. Nobody saw it coming, including them."
"You think I was right to raise the point?"
"Maybe. But that wasn't what I meant. People can get complacent in a few years, let alone a thousand. Do you think you were right?"
Grant was silent for a long moment. "Everyone who wasn't there for A-Day is treating this like a construction project, and not…" Grant sighed. "I know I'm still the 'plebe' in this world; but nobody imagined 9/11 either."
Biggs blinked. "What's… Oh wow, I haven't thought about that in a long time."
"Exactly." Grant said. "Your feet go to sleep when you never have to hurry." They were silent for a while. "This world made sense to me when I learned about the Final Test." He looked at Biggs. "If I faced justice for half of what I did in OS, I would've gotten the chair. And I still would have woken up here. I know all about getting away with murder on a technicality. I've done it before." He shrugged. "All I'm saying is, the instructions don't make sense. They only make sense to me if I assume the worst."
"I know." Biggs said quietly. "But I can recall the last time our instructions seemed to defy all conventional common sense." He let out a breath and checked the time. "Rika's invited me to her study group. It's being led by brother Benedict. He was an Elder when Tribulation rolled around. He's been an Elder for most of the millennium; and now that he's been stood down from that post; he leads a study group. Would you care to come along? You, me, Rika; the rest of her Collective?"
"As long as it's not at that spider-hatchery, I'd love to come."
~~/*\~~
"Today, brothers; we're going to talk about the Final Test." Brother Benedict addressed the small study group. He noted everyone's reactions to his words. "I know, we're a little early. But I've been hearing a lot of questions from the people I've known the longest; so I thought we'd take a few minutes to discuss the broad points. Today's study will come mostly from the prophetic passages that describe the Final Test; which can be found in the Fourth Testament… But before you look that up; we're going to take one quick look at the Second Testament."
Even a thousand years later, Biggs still thought of them as the 'Christian' scriptures, or even the 'new' testament. Having two more volumes come during his time in Paradise didn't entirely shed old habits.
Benedict had turned to the Gospels. "Matthew 26:73: After a little while, those standing around came up and said to Peter: "Certainly you are also one of them, for in fact, your dialect gives you away." Then he started to curse and swear: "I do not know the man!" And immediately a rooster crowed. And Peter called to mind what Jesus had said, namely: "Before a rooster crows, you will disown me three times." And he went outside and wept bitterly."
Everyone was reading along, waiting for the point. Benedict was well known to all of them, having been a respected Elder since before the Millennium. There was sure to be a link.
"You're wondering why I started out with this point." Benedict said with a smile. "And the reason is because Peter is a prime example of what we need to do during the Final Test." Benedict picked up his paper copy of the Second Volume. "Now, we turn to the Fourth Testament; look up 'Final Test' in your index for the key articles. Recent studies have shown a much stronger understanding of what these passages might mean."
Grant looked around and noted that Benedict was the only one with a paper Bible; but he was still getting to the correct page faster than any of them. Experience always wins.
"We know, from careful study of the new scriptures; that the test will be personal. How can it not be? Most of us have lived two lives. One in Satan's world, and another here. And while the old System had a hundred and one ways to tempt and torment; I think it's fair to say that we each had something in particular we had to overcome when we got here. To return to our example: For Peter, it was Fear of Man. But the important thing to remember is that Peter recovered from that, and became a bold proclaimer. Can anyone tell me why?"
Biggs raised a hand. "Because he was ashamed of himself. It was his greatest blunder; and he vowed 'never again'."
Grant raised a hand. "Because he took his eye off the ball. He'd been given an assignment by the Messiah, a man he legit worshiped; and he left his post when his Lord was facing the end."
Belle raised her hand. "Because he didn't know. Jesus had told him what he would do, and he didn't believe it; but Jesus was right. Peter didn't know what his part in the death of Jesus was; because his real part in the story began after Jesus came back."
"All correct answers." Benedict nodded. "But the important point was that when Peter identified his major weakness, he moved to make that his strongest point. He was a bold proclaimer for the Truth, for the rest of his days." He paused to let that sink in. "As an Apostle, you can be sure that Satan took a special interest in him personally. In fact, we know he did; because Jesus told him that Satan 'demanded to have you to sift as wheat'." Benedict closed his Bible. "Now, we don't know what the Final Test will require us to do. Not yet. But we do know a bit about the opposition. After a thousand years, the Original Enemy will be eager for a counterattack. And this time, we know from the Third and Fourth Testaments, he will make the Final Test a personal one. And as he knew that Peter could be made afraid of the crowd if something happened to shake his certainty… he knows our own weakness. The ones he exploited in OS."
(Author's Note: One thing I've never done is try to write my own prophecy or my own additions to the Bible. Scriptures about the Millennial Kingdom suggest that 'new scrolls' will come; and I've already made them a plot point in earlier books; but I've never tried to 'write' them. The original Bible was made up of personal histories, official records; eyewitness testimonies, letters to Congregations, even songs of praise. It stood to reason that the 'new' scrolls would be written specifically as additions to scripture, but if that took the form of letters, or of study articles; or even an encyclopedia; there's no way to know.
Another thing I've had to 'invent' for this story is what would happen during the Final Test; as there is very limited reference to the 'testing' itself. For purposes of this story, the test is specific to each person, in the form of whatever major problem was between them and God in their OS lives, or their arrival in Paradise. It seemed an elegant way to demonstrate truly 'reformed' characters, versus the ones that hadn't faced their own weaknesses.
Obviously, there's no way to know what the actual Final Test will be like for at least a Thousand Years; but from a storytelling perspective, this seemed like the best option.)
Belle raised her hand. "Brother Benedict, what about us? The people who have lived their whole lives in Paradise?"
"You, Belle; have a question of your own to answer." Benedict said seriously. "We all know what the old days were like. You have to make that choice based on your life now."
~~/*\~~
The conversation he'd had with Grant before the study stayed on Biggs' mind for the rest of the day; as did the comment from Benedict. He and Rika returned to the house, and Biggs was looking around all of it with fresh eyes. He may have married into it, but it was his home too; the place they'd raised their daughter. Megan noticed his scrutiny, but didn't comment on it.
Rika mentioned it later that night. "What's up with dad?"
Megan shrugged. "Not sure. He's been wandering around all day like he expects the house to fall down. He say anything to you?"
"Nope. But he hasn't left the garage in hours." Rika shook her head. "He bought a car."
"He what?"
~~/*\~~
The Ryker family didn't own a vehicle, or at least they never had before. The Garage was left from when Megan's parents owned the house, really more of a hangar. Megan and Biggs had been using it as an all-purpose workshop and storage area. But today, things had changed. Megan and Rika came in and found the hangar transformed. Most of the stored goods were either removed, or stacked against the far wall. Most of the boxes held memorabilia from hobbies put in storage until the mood came around again. Everyone who had lived for more than nine hundred years accumulated various hobbies and interests; but nobody could follow the same passion forever.
When Megan saw the car, she knew this wasn't a new hobby. Her own father had restored his plane from the Second World War, and kept it running smoothly, even a thousand years later. Even with a modern fuel source, it was anachronistic. Biggs had chosen a modern vehicle. He wasn't restoring anything.
Biggs was under the car on a trolley, and the sounds of pictures being taken suggested he was studying more than tinkering. Megan planted a foot on the trolley and pulled him out from underneath. "Hello." Megan said, as though such things happened every day. "What's on your mind? We've never needed one before."
"We've never needed one before, because the public transport services all worked. What happens when the whole planet goes on the move one day?"
"You think that's likely?" Rika outright laughed. "Dad, the Autodrive hasn't been five minutes late in over five hundred years. You know something we don't? Why base an Auto here? We don't use one any more than every other customer for a thousand miles."
"This one isn't an Auto." Biggs told his daughter. "Or it is, but it won't be once I take out the Nav and put in the manual controls."
Rika laughed hysterically. "Manual controls? Can you even drive? I haven't seen a manual car on the road in… ever. Even the antique ones are part of the Database now. You really think you can drive this thing as well as the Nav?"
It was a serious question. Automated cars could steer with pinpoint accuracy, in three dimensions, to within an inch of each other, because they were all guided from the Database. No human could match that level of control when at speed. The cars had been driving themselves with such precision that traffic jams had ceased to exist. It had been easier to just let them navigate.
"You don't have a pilot's license." Megan said slowly, trying to read her husband's mind. "And I don't think either of us has driven a car in quite a while." She shook her head, getting to the point. "Biggs, what's going on? There's no need for this."
"I know." Biggs wheeled himself back under the car. "There hasn't been any need for a lot of things. Not for almost a Thousand Years."
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