Chapter Two: The Real Life

Grant had been back long enough to travel for a while. It was not an uncommon reaction for Newcomers. Those that thought the world they were seeing must be a trick of some kind often responded by going as far as possible, looking for the 'edge' of the deception, trying to find the 'normal' world.

He hadn't summoned an Auto yet, sticking to transport methods he recognized. Whenever he took a slower way, by airship, or by boat; Rika frequently joined him. Grant was glad to have a little space, making sure he wasn't being manipulated; but as he went from one city to another, convincing himself that they were real, his guide would arrive to teach him a little about the place; and even make introductions.

Grant wasn't sure if he was being taken on Tour, or being shown off. Rika was showing him around the whole world; and at every stop, there had been no checkpoints, no passports needed.

As they made it back to the California Region in the Airship, Grant was trying very hard not to stare down the people around him, or to gawk at the world he was seeing. His poker face was his only protection now.

Rika was reading his expression. "You're taking it well." She commented. "I've heard of people going into total shock when they see more of the world. They just won't accept delivery of what they see."

Grant grunted. "I never expected to see the world outside. Which was fine. I had luxury enough to be comfortable; and I was old enough not to care about a world I'd never see again. I still ran my town." He gestured at the Foundation; closer than he'd ever been to the Central Spire that was visible from everywhere. "But I'm very clearly not dreaming all this. Humanity could never bring about world peace, let alone do so without smog. So yes, I believe."

Rika stared at him. "Just like that."

"Don't think I don't see what's going on here, Miss Rika. You're attempting to Recruit me. Just because I can't refute anything I've seen doesn't mean I want to join."

Rika just smiled at him.

Grant snorted. "Don't give me that 'I know better' look. You don't pull it off half as well as my parole officers." He gestured around the Foundation. "Everyone keeps starin' at me."

"You're the last Returnee. The Resurrection brought back twenty thousand per day, back before I was born; but it's been winding down for decades. They haven't seen gray hair in a long time." Rika explained. "Age is a sign of life fading in someone. An affliction limited to people who are in opposition to the Life Source."

"No such thing as 'neutral' in your world, I suppose?" Grant tested, still twitching a tiny bit as the Auto's came into land around them, or took off in some new direction. "Kiss the ring, or else?"

"What ring?" Rika asked, having never heard the expression before.

Grant blinked. "What I mean is, I'm not encouraged by the idea that we've got to worship or die." He waved a hand back and forth. "Why would God make people capable of independent thought and Free Will if making a different choice was a death sentence?"

Rika gestured grandly around the Foundation. "We have a whole lot of choices, Grant. Far more than just The Main One. You've seen a dozen cities around the world. Without choices, we're all just cattle." She gave him a hard look. "And you just said, you can't imagine people achieving Utopia on their own."

Grant said nothing. People were giving him sideways looks. He was used to that. Back in Stone Prison, everyone jumped aside when he walked the halls. Even the guards. Rika was leading him towards the Tower, putting her arm in his. Grant's head was on a swivel, trying to see everything without making it obvious he had no idea what he was looking at. He didn't notice Rika tapping at her Device, sending a message; too caught up in the sight of monorails soaring in and out of the shining towers. There were floating turbines, feeding energy directly from the air, though they floated like kites. People were pushing loads on carts that hovered instead of using wheels; and he could see people walking with exotic pet animals, some of which were meant to be extinct, and others he couldn't identify.

"What is it about travel that makes a person hungry?" Rika said easily, as though such wonders were commonplace. "Come on. Let's get a bite to eat."

Grant had been to enough places to know that food was a varied affair. It wasn't just what was being served. Some communities took every meal together on huge tables, with the whole town turning out for it. Some places barely even acknowledged mealtimes; with tables of food that anyone could take to graze on.

The Foundation was one of the latter. Everyone seemed to be working on something, gathered around tables with their food in one hand, and their devices in the other. One woman with bright platinum blonde hair was walking over towards them.

"Grant, this is my Aunt Rachel." Rika made introductions. "Former head of the Foundation, currently Project Manager on the Chariot Project."

Grant shook her hand. "I've been hearing about it. You really think you can make it? I was pretty young when we landed on the moon; and people were bored with it in less than two years."

"Not the people working on this." Rachel grinned.

"You sure it's safe?" Grant probed, wanting to see her reaction. "I don't know much about outer space, but I know that everything about it is trying to kill you."

"You are new, aren't you?" Rachel grinned. "Nobody's died from exposure, hunger, or accident in almost nine hundred years. I know, I was there for all nine hundred of them."

"None of this should be possible." Grant shook his head, pained. "If your goal was to 'shock and awe', you're doing better than you'd think, but I don't impress easily."

"Don't show it, maybe." Rika commented. "When I first met people from pre-modern times, they were weeping over a ballpoint pen. More than all their science had ever conceived, in the days of feather quills."

"The point she's making is: We don't make an effort to impress. We let reality do that." Rachel chuckled. "Rika, does your family have plans for the Centennial?"

"My family couldn't get a booking this year. Too many people." Rika reported. "We were going to watch from home. Grandpa was floating the idea that we could all meet at his place. Their Arcology is going to make an event of it."

"Mm. I know Hugh invited your folks, but with your guest, I wasn't sure if you were going to watch with them, or-"

"Actually, that's been sorted." Rika said brightly. "As the Last Returnee, Grant has been offered a box seat at the Main Auditorium. It's his first Centennial, after all."

Rachel smiled warmly at Grant. "You're in for a treat."

~~/*\~~

Education in Paradise was split between lessons and Apprenticeships. Students would be assigned to an adult, and taught how to do something that contributed to Paradise as a whole. Adults had been included for centuries, as people were Returned from eras that did not include education for everyone.

Emilio was apprenticed for a day to Dexter Knowles; and he was teaching the boy about The Balance.

"The Balance Equation is the one part of the Restoration that we plan to use forever." He explained to the young student. "You've seen records of OS, right? The clear-cutting, the huge landfills?"

Emilio nodded.

"Well, part of the reason it all went wrong was because we, as a species, forgot there was no such thing as 'throwing it away'. Every time we tossed something in the garbage, it was taken a few miles away, and then heaped in a pile. Out of sight, out of mind."

Emilio frowned. He'd never lived in a world where there was such a thing as a 'landfill'. "Okay." He said, as though learning about life on another planet.

Dexter tapped at the wall and projected the math. "This is the Balance Equation. It keeps track of what we throw away, and what is needed in return. For example, if you get a new chair made of lumber, that chair is the result of 'x' amount of trees. Same goes for food, water; clothing…"

Emilio frowned. "I don't think I like the idea of putting every single thing I eat or use into a big file for others to read."

"Oh, it's not like that. Trust me, it's far less invasive than it was in OS. Back then we had to figure out taxes or keep track of receipts. This is a lot simpler. The Balance Equation keeps track of how many resources get used up by a community, or a region; and sends along an instruction to the relevant places. When you get that new chair, you don't use a tree from your backyard; but the lumber comes from somewhere nearby. The people who are on rotation with the Service Work get notified how many trees are needed, and where they can be planted. Same goes for food grown in a specific region, or a particular technology produced in a specific factory." Dexter pointed, as though giving a pop quiz. "What was the problem in OS?"

"Out of sight, out of mind." Emilio reported promptly.

"The Balance Equation makes sure there's always someone who remembers what's needed, and when, and where." Dexter summed up. "It doesn't invade privacy, because it doesn't demand individual accounting, though you can do it that way if you want to keep track of your own 'budget'. But the earth is a closed system; and in a world where we have to live with each other forever, we should all figure out how to get along."

As if to answer him, his device chimed. Dexter looked, and froze in place when he saw the name on the incoming call. "And speaking of…" He breathed. "Emilio, would you excuse me a moment?"

Emilio nodded, and Dexter slipped into another room; accepting the call on the Holo.

It was Megan, suddenly projected beside him. He froze. His memory was as good as everyone else's, even if he hadn't spoken to her since she was a little girl. "Um… Hello, Megan. This is a surprise."

Megan's image squared up to him like she was marching to a battle. "I need you to do something for me."

"Okay." Dexter said neutrally.

~~/*\~~

It wasn't just the kids that undertook apprenticeships. Almost everyone had learned multiple trades and skills. Eternal life meant that each human could be a master of them all.

Grant was still trying to get used to the idea that he was one of the youngest people in the world. There was a shockingly low number of children, and everyone else looked around twenty five years old. While the face in the mirror was healthier and more vital than it had ever been, the signs of relative age were still more than apparent.

The children that were there had been in class, learning the basics. Grant had been placed with them for some history classes. The teachers didn't make fun of his status, being an adult among minors in a classroom. The kids didn't seem surprised to have him there; and Grant suddenly understood. This wasn't a class for children. It was a class for people 'just starting out' in the world.

Being the Last Returnee means I'm the only adult that still needs to learn these things. Grant thought.

Things changed when they got to the 'apprenticeship' stage. All the students were assigned to help out in various local businesses and industries. Grant was the only adult, so the teacher didn't pick one for him; so much as make some suggestions.

When he came to the farm, he wasn't sure what he expected. There were some kids apprenticing here, too; but the farm itself was odd. There were none of the usual open fields of crops. Instead, there were much smaller plots, with different crops growing, side by side. There were large multi-level greenhouse structures, with people working within. It was clearly harvest time. But there were none of the big combine harvesters he'd always equated with farms. Just people, bundling grain, or carrying baskets of fruit and veg. The sun glinted on silvery shapes; and Grant squinted, seeing machines, hovering in mid-air, about the size of a human torso. They hovered silently, carrying tools back and forth.

"It's like something out of the Jetsons." Grant said under his breath.

"Well, I've never heard of them, but I believe you." Another voice said.

Grant turned to find a man coming over. "My name's Hugh Alman." He introduced himself. "Rika is my granddaughter. She sends her apologies, but she had to meet someone, and couldn't put it off." He stuck out a hand. "Besides, it's time you worked with some new people."

Grant shook his hand automatically, reminding himself that nobody needed gray hair to have grandkids anymore. "I was thinking, it doesn't seem like the right time of year for harvesting."

"You'd be surprised at the kind of crop yields we get." Hugh said. "Grab a basket."

~~/*\~~

After several hours of work, Grant observed the small farm. There were a few young people working close to the soil, pulling up potatoes. A drone hovered nearby, with a huge basket balanced perfectly on top. Grant watched as the kids shook the dirt free of the taters and tossed them in the basket.

Over on the far side of the potato crop was a small orchard, with bright red apples on the trees. Another drone was floating nimbly in and out of the branches as people plucked the fresh fruit from the trees and tossed them to the drone, who caught them neatly. The machines had pincers quick enough to catch any that were off target.

Grant gestured. "The machines have nimble claws. Why not get them to harvest for you?"

Hugh smiled. "You mentioned the cities were different because you couldn't really tell where the gardens ended and the town began. This is part of that. Can you tell where the farm stops and the next property over begins? Can you tell when the work stops and the fun starts? Can you tell me how it feels to see something you planted, and tended for a whole season, grow to feed your family?"

Grant blinked. "Oh. The fish always taste better when you catch them yourself."

"Right." Hugh nodded. "You came from a world where most kids thought vegetables came in frozen plastic bags, pre-sliced. Literally. The majority couldn't identify a vegetable. Now we've got a world where advanced machines and domesticated animals work side by side on farms. Where you can 'print' a house to your whim, and wear a hand-woven sweater. And through it all, the farms keep harvesting; planting, and growing. Constantly. Smart people can manipulate the soil, adapt the plant; but the earth abides. It's the one thing that doesn't fundamentally change. We plant, we water, God makes it grow. We can adapt this and that, make it produce more often or in different climates. But for the most part, we adjust to their philosophy rather than the other way around. Something we've learned after a thousand years, Grant. You don't improve on things designed by God."

Grant watched the harvest for a few minutes. "You've got hand tools, side by side with robots. How do you find the happy medium between 'satisfying life' and 'too easy'?"

"Same way we figure out which books we love, when there are many billions to choose from." Hugh said simply. "Everyone finds their own way. All Paradise does is give the options, and the time you need to get it right." He rose. "Speaking of Paradise, we've got to get this Harvest moving over to the Center. It's a donation for the Convention."

~~/*\~~

Grant had seen the Convention Centers on his trips. He had thought they were sports arenas. Plenty of seats, plenty of screens to give the whole audience a perfect view. But the Centers were never closed; even if the main auditorium wasn't being used each day.

"The Center is the core of the community." Hugh explained. "Not just for spiritual instruction. We use it for meetings, for ceremonies, for conferences; basically anything that involves people getting together for." He hefted a huge basket of produce. "With the Centennial coming up, they're preparing meals, too. Most people bring their own, or eat out; but what's the point of welcoming hundreds of thousands of people, if we can't make them feel welcome?"

Grant whistled between his teeth, looking at the huge line of workers bringing food in. Some of the smaller rooms had been converted into assembly lines for the food. Hundreds of people, slicing, arranging, dicing, stirring; forming lines towards the kitchens, which held huge refrigerators and ovens. "The Army couldn't have fed so many people this fast." He commented.

Hugh heard him and smiled, gesturing at the workstations. The people working were like well-oiled machines, knives flashing and bowls being handed back and forth so efficiently it looked like a dance, playing at high speed. Hundreds of people, all of them working in such perfect harmony that it was like looking at a hive of worker bees. At one end of the table, food kept piling up, assembled and wrapped, ready to be taken and eaten by someone. All different meals, all different styles.

"I can't decide if things move faster or slower here." Grant observed. "Part of me says 'faster'." He gestured at the people assembling the food. "You wouldn't get that kind of efficiency at a Five Star Restaurant back in OS; and none of them are pro-chefs, are they? Some of these people were with us on the farm, gathering the harvest. They've just done it so many times they couldn't slow down to think about it if they tried." Grant gestured the other way; at the lines heading back to the Autos. "But nobody hurries. Even your most hard-working people never get past a stroll. They've got all the time in the world."

"I remember as a young man, back in OS, looking at a bookshop once and thinking: 'Nobody will ever have time to read them all'." Hugh said serenely, in the same easy, relaxed tone that everyone in the world had.

Except me. Grant thought, but shook that off. He'd started from the back of the pack before. He'd catch up.

Hugh snagged a few sandwiches, and guided Grant out of the way. "You know, the first convention I ever went to was almost immediately after I was brought back." Hugh commented. "It was the moment when I had to accept that this world was real." He gestured at Grant. "You're lucky. Your first Convention is coming up."

"If I go." Grant countered.

"You're going." Hugh scoffed, as though this was obvious. "You're going, for the same reason I panicked and left the auditorium halfway through the first day. You're going, because having half a million people in attendance without anyone so much as pushing and shoving is a fact you can't reject as being a con. You're going, because you want to find your angle in this world, and the only way to do that is to figure out how and why this world works. You're going, because there's no chance of you being unwell, or too busy."

"And the only other reasons to stay away during a major conference would be willful ignorance, or simple fear of not liking what I hear. Neither of which are things I have any respect for." Grant admitted grimly. "&^%!@. You're right. I have to be there."

Hugh chuckled, though Grant noticed his eyes flash at the profanity. "I went back for the final day of my first Convention. Day One, I was so out of my depth I ran away from people handing out Bibles, free of charge. Day Three, I came back, looking for every scrap of information I could."

"I saw one of their conventions once; back when I was a younger man. I was between prison sentences, and they had rented out a stadium." Grant said quietly; just sharing a story with someone. "I never went in, of course; but I happened to be in the area. What I remember was the picket line."

Hugh looked over. "Oh?"

"Well, back there and back then, people would go crazy at the slightest thing." Grant excused. "And religion was a lightning rod for all the worst of it. I remember seeing protests outside conventions; and I didn't go in."

"Fear of man?" Hugh guessed.

Grant scoffed. "As a rule, I wasn't scared of what people thought. But for my own reasons, I wasn't interested in helping myself to more trouble or controversy." He looked over. "What about you? Was it fear of man?"

"I suppose it would have been if I'd ever gotten that far. But when I first heard of them, there was a war on and the Witnesses refused to fight. I had little time for them." Hugh sipped his coffee. "You know something? When I first came back, I met a man who was my junior officer until I died. He stayed in the service long enough to see the borders shift back and forth until nobody could tell who was on what side." He gestured out at the Convention Center. "Something I'm truly grateful for is the idea of the whole world being on the same side."

"It's never happened before." Grant agreed. "It was so unlikely that I figured something had to be terribly wrong with the world; if they claimed to have achieved world peace."

Hugh nodded, smiling grandly. "First time in history there are no 'enemies' to fear. Fear of Man is a long dead worry, because we're all there to support each other."

Grant considered that. "And I guess that's not the only fear that kept people from listening back in OS. So if all the problems are fixed now, what point was there in preaching during the Old System at all? Wouldn't it have been more prudent to just… wait for this?"

Hugh chuckled. "I had the same thought once. Faith in God was only half the problem. When humankind rebelled in Eden, there were two charges made. The first was that God was an unfit ruler; and the other was that humans only obeyed out of fear, or for hope of reward. Back in OS, the Witnesses had to 'earn their stripes'. They obeyed God then, when the rest of the world fought them on it. Even at gunpoint, sometimes."

Grant considered that. "The old world was about who people should follow, and this world is about proving who was right?"

"You said it yourself: You thought the world must have some secret problem if everyone was united under a common rule." Hugh reminded him. "The last world, everyone followed themselves. You tell me, who's done a better job of being in charge?"

"I don't disagree." Grant said carefully, keeping his thoughts to himself. "But if there ever was a fundamental schism in the world, and you had to cross a picket line to get in during the next Convention, would you?"

"There have been several shifts in the way the world works. You saw the farms. The cutting-edge modern world and the ancient ways live side by side." Hugh waved that off. "Really, Grant; I know you're new here, but the most important lesson you'll ever learn is that there's nothing to be afraid of."

~~/*\~~

"DNA test confirmed it." Biggs said quietly. "He didn't ask why you wanted a sample?"

"I haven't spoken to him in years." Megan said quietly. "I represent the one thing he can't make right. If I asked him for a kidney, he'd give it." The side of her mouth twitched. "Come to think of it, maybe I should have asked."

"Meg." Biggs warned.

"Just kidding." Mostly. She shook it off. "Do I tell her or not?"

"Rika knows the math. I mean, there's a hundred pictures of the other kids we took care of together. She considers them cousins as it is. Even if she hasn't seen the test results, she may well think it." He couldn't help the smile. "It must have occurred to her by now. She doesn't look like either of us. You don't look anything like Kasumi and Hugh. She knows the times we both lived in. Rika's smart enough to understand why she has grandparents on her mother's side, and none on mine."

"No." Megan admitted. "Her mother had a sad story with a sadder end. I loved her anyway. Do I put that on my daughter's shoulders?"

"Does she need to know?" Biggs questioned.

Megan bit her lip. "It changes nothing for her… Except that it changes everything for me."

"It changes nothing for you." He reminded her. "What is different now from a week ago? Paradise is full of second chances, but she's not your Erica. She's your daughter. She can't be your 'mom' or big sister."

"I know that." Megan admitted. "And I don't want her to be either. I just… I was there, Biggs. I was in the room, begging her not to cross that uncrossable line. Maybe knowing doesn't change anything, but..."

"You and I were both orphans. Neither of us could look to our parents before A-Day, or find them again after. God gave us what we needed, including family." Biggs said quietly. "I never met Erica, but according to Hugh, you answered her only real prayer, centuries after permadeath took her. You gave her baby a mom."

Megan took a shaky breath. "I didn't do it alone. Sometimes I wonder if the reason it took so long was because God knew I'd need you with me." She looked at him beseechingly. "I knew her mom, Biggs. More than anyone alive, I knew Erica. How can I not tell her everything I know about where she came from?"

Biggs looked at his wife for a long moment, before pulling her in for a tight hug. "I still don't think it makes a difference to her… But I do know this is going to be tying your brain in a knot until you get it out there. Maybe this isn't about you looking after her. Maybe Rika needs to help you. This is a burden you've been carrying for more than four hundred years. She'd carry that for you."

Would she? Megan asked in prayer. This whole messy question comes from the fact that not all moms will do things for their daughters… Even when I was standing there, begging her to do the right thing.

Jehovah God, what do I tell her?

~~/*\~~

The Convention Center was like any other stadium Grant had seen, although with a different audio/visual set up. The rest of the Center included rooms of all sizes, and the chairs were comfortable. Hugh had mentioned that the place was never closed.

"I've seen the Database." Grant had observed to Rika. "People can do all their learnin', even the interactive or group activities; and do them all from home."

"They could." Rika led him into their private booth, essentially a VIP room, overlooking the whole Stadium. "But there are advantages to having everyone gathered together in person."

Grant looked around. "A VIP room? I thought all men were equal now."

"Sure, but there's still all the same moments when you want privacy. We use this Stadium for Concerts and Shows. Someone wants to make a little extra effort for a wedding anniversary, they can use one of these rooms and have champagne and cake while listening to the music. We use the Stadium for sporting events. So you have a room for the talent scouts and such to compare notes. We use the Stadium for-"

"I get it."

"The world being fair doesn't mean we all get the same thing all the time. Some people do need something other than what their neighbor has. Having everyone be fair means caring as much about other people as you do about yourself." Rika led him over to the seats and selected one. "My father spent some time in Prison, and he told me when he came out, the crowds were the hardest part to get used to. It was a phobia that he carried all through the days when fear ceased to exist. It's more a part of his personality now than anything else. He mentioned a private box might be easier for you; and given your status, it was agreed."

Grant shook his head. He still had gray hair, and he was surrounded by supermodels and athletes, all of whom viewed him as a child. "My status as a newcomer, or as one of the youngest people in the world?"

"Same thing." Rika said lightly. The lights came up on stage, and she smiled in anticipation. "Oooh, here we go. What I said, about how there were advantages to being here in the crowd? You're about to see a really big one."

Grant scanned around and didn't see anything, when he suddenly heard it. It was a low tone, like someone humming a note, except it didn't stop. In fact, it expanded. It was like the air started singing.

The law of Jehovah is perfect, restoring strength.

The reminder of Jehovah is trustworthy, making the inexperienced one wise.

The orders from Jehovah are righteous, causing the heart to rejoice;

The commandment of Jehovah is clean, making the eyes shine.

The fear of Jehovah is pure, lasting forever.

The choir became visible at the end of the first verse, and Grant felt his jaw drop open at the hinges. The expression on his face lasted less than three seconds before he remembered himself.

The judgments of Jehovah are true, altogether righteous.

They are more desirable than gold,

Than much fine gold,

And sweeter than honey, the honey that drips from the combs.

By them your servant has been warned;

In keeping them, there is a large reward.

Who can discern mistakes?

Pronounce me innocent from sins I am unaware of.

And hold your servant back from presumptuous acts...

Grant let out a breath. His hands were shaking. He looked around the audience; which was so large it was hard to see them as individuals. But he could tell that none of them were trying to hide their tears. The heavenly chorus had made every human in attendance weep. Maybe everyone on earth.

Grant's eyes were clear. He hadn't shed a tear since he was a child.

Rika squeezed his hand, tears rolling down her face without shame. "Hey. You don't have to hide it here. This is a world that runs on full hearts and genuine honesty. With each other. With ourselves. There isn't a single person who hasn't welcomed a long dead loved one back into their arms; and that chorus came directly from God's own Heavenly Throne Room just to sing an opening song for us. You don't have to be jaded and unimpressed for anyone. In your world it makes you seem 'steely and dominant'. In this world it just makes you seem dead inside."

"Who says I'm not?" Grant offered roughly, but even he could hear the hitch in his voice.

~~/*\~~

"The story of the world has always been told in the agreements between Jehovah God and the people He created." Sheridan said from the stage. "What has defined our history, even the time spent in worldwide darkness; was the Covenants between Heaven and Earth. Even when almost nobody in the world observed the agreement, or bothered to see if there was one; Jehovah held true to His every Promise. The first of these Promises can be found in Genesis Chapter 3. It wasn't just a promise to us; but to the Devil."

Grant noticed everyone turning to their Bibles; digital and paper. Rika had given him a paper one, though she had a display projected across her palm. Grant looked for the scripture awkwardly. He'd never held a Bible in his life before Paradise, but Genesis was fairly easy to find. "And I will put enmity between you and the woman and between your offspring and her offspring. He will crush your head, and you will strike him in the heel."

"Consider the scene for a moment." Sheridan said grandly. "Satan had just made his opening gambit. Small though it was, the entire human race had rebelled. And Satan chose his moment well. If he'd waited until Adam and Eve had children already, those kids would be ageless, perfect, and watched as their parents faded out. The human race would have had a single generation of orphans, right at the start, and they would be able to tell their own ageless offspring what had happened to Grandma and Grandpa. Instead, God had to deal with a human race that had fallen; from the first people onward."

Rika's eyes flicked to Grant. He was listening, working through new thoughts. She noticed him jotting something down in a notebook. He had it turned carefully so that she couldn't see what he was writing. She didn't push to look at it. If he had questions, he would ask them.

"God had expressed His plan. A world full of Adam and Eve's descendants, living forever in a perfect paradise. If He'd destroyed those rebels then, He could have started again; but it would have meant that God's Promises could be undone, left unfulfilled. So instead, He made us a promise. The Edenic Promise. A promise that would defeat and judge the Serpent. A promise that would restore Paradise." Sheridan said. "Jehovah had undone the entire OS world within minutes of the Rebellion. All that was left was to play it out."

"Play it out and fix the damage afterwards." Rika commented to Grant.

"Over the years, several more Covenants were made. And we'll be exploring some of them over the next few days; as well as the rest of the Conventions in this series between now and the end of the Millennium. But for today, let's take a minute to consider what the fulfillment of the Edenic Promise means: The world is in harmony with itself!" The Speaker declared brightly. "Every extinct species, every endangered habitat; every imbalance in the wind and waves; every ruined ecosystem! All of it has been set right. With centuries of concentrated work; the Restoration is complete!"

That comment drew a full standing ovation that lasted a good ten minutes. Grant looked out over the rest of the crowd; and saw a lot of them were flat out weeping. He asked his guide the question with just a look.

Rika explained quickly, feeling it herself. "Everyone's had a hand in that part. Finding out we succeeded is a point of pride for everyone. Some more than others, but every single person alive has been a part of it, even if it's just cleaning up the mess, or helping someone settle into a world they've never imagined."

"I haven't." Grant said automatically.

"Surely this has been proof enough!" The Speaker continued. "The truly miraculous parts of this world are the ones that require no miracles at all. Restoring the climate, providing food enough that nobody is hungry, and homes for everyone? Truly, we could have done something similar in the Old World. But we didn't. The spirit of the world reflected its ruler. Witness what true Leadership can do." He turned to the rest of the stage where a woman walked out, smiling. "Here with us now, is Ingaret Godlefe, one of the Foundation's original and most respected members. In her career; she has been an instrumental figure in the creation of the Expo, the direction of the Restoration, and now works with the Teaching Committee. Sister Godlefe, would you care to give us the good news?"

Ingaret smiled broadly. "We've been receiving reports from all over the world. The Coral Reefs have actually grown larger than expected. We've passed every record of how far the reefs used to extend. There have been at least thirty undiscovered species moving into the restored ecosystems. And that's just for starters. We've cataloged hundreds of species that were never even discovered by archaeologists, let alone by ecologists. The atmosphere is healthier than has ever been recorded." She smiled again. "And most important of all, everything the human race takes out of the world is now replaced from sustainable sources. All the food, all the raw material. The last landfills have been reclaimed; and the soil-testing confirms there's no trace they were ever dumping grounds at all." She chuckled a little.

"You seem to find that amusing." Sheridan observed.

"Well, it's kind of a running joke that the Restoration is sort of the whole goal of Paradise in a nutshell." Ingaret explained. "Not just to put back what was lost, but to make it so much better that you can't even tell what was wrong in the first place."

"That it is. Sister Ingaret, thank you for your service." Sheridan said warmly. There was a round of applause as Ingaret went backstage. "And as it happens, she's right. False worship; war, poverty… All the evils inflicted on mankind have not only been stopped, they've been undone. The human race is in real Harmony at last!" Sheridan declared. "With God. With itself. With nature. This is what was always intended for the world. We've become many, and filled the earth. We've subdued it and expanded the borders of Paradise to the whole globe."

The audience burst into applause.

"The rebellion in Eden required a delay for that ultimate happy ending; but thanks to the promise of Genesis 3:15, we got there. The torment of a world gone mad is repaired. All the destruction inflicted on the world, and on each other; brought to nothing. Not one veteran of the thousands of wars will spend their eternal youth haunted by nightmares. Not one orphaned child will feel unloved. Not one old scar that hasn't vanished into nothing. Every blasphemy, misconception; and outright lie about our loving Father has been replaced with pure worship. A united brotherhood lives, and God's Kingdom Rules! The Final Resurrection took place just recently! Even the Returning is complete, and the graveyards of the world stand empty!"

The audience broke into cheering; even standing in ovation. Grant twitched. Me. He means me.

"All thanks go to the One who's plans cannot fail!" The Speaker declared. "With a full century to go, and almost all the work done, the Authority has a direction for us all now. Spend this century in contemplation of what Paradise has given to us. Consider how the fulfillment of the first Covenant has made your lives better than ever!" The Speaker was wrapping up his talk. "Because what comes after the end of this next Century, will fulfill still more promises from Jehovah. Take this time to build on the faith you have in Him already, and what it's already provided."

~~/*\~~

The mention of 'the end of the Returning' stayed with Grant for a while. As the program ended, and everyone filed out; Rika told him to stay behind. She had questions for him. What he'd thought, what he'd noticed. He answered her questions honestly enough. They were still discussing such things in an abstract, though Grant knew that would change at some point.

He'd answered her questions with half an ear, his brain still mulling the other matter as Rika summoned an Auto and they drove back to the Dormitory. Rika had offered him her guest room, as was apparently offered to all 'Green Letters'; but Grant was still more comfortable in a Dormitory. He'd been long used to sharing a shower block; and what he had now was beyond anything he'd ever had in his life.

Rika had stayed, collecting their dinner from the Dining Area in the Courtyard outside. As they finished eating, Grant finally figured out the point that was bothering him.

"They didn't say my name." Grant said quietly.

"Hm?" Rika looked up from her finished plate. "I'm sorry, I missed that."

"They didn't say my name. If they were making a huge deal about the 'Last Returnee', then why didn't they name me?"

"Grant, being a celebrity doesn't help a person think clearly. Right now, your most important questions have very personal answers. It wouldn't be fair to you if you had to do that under a magnifying glass."

"You're respecting my privacy out of generosity?"

"We're respecting your privacy because we all went through this. Even the people who have been born here. Sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to the one person in the Universe that grants us everything else. And when you do, it's going to be the defining moment of your life."

"I'm not religious." Grant said reflexively. "Religion was just another superstition to me… Though I admit, I'm starting to get a little superstitious right now."

"Refusing to decide is a decision too." Rika told him. "And not everyone can bring themselves to make the leap. But those that do? They live forever." She smiled at him. "And I'll tell you this, not a single person in the world wishes they'd taken longer to get their relationship with Jehovah God sorted out. Not one person."

"So you say." Grant sipped his drink. "Have you ever spoken to those people, though? Or just take it 'on faith'? What if I wanted to check with them? Could I even find one?"

"Oh, we keep records. The Database was the only way we found each other the last five hundred odd years. Why? There someone you want to find?"

"If I'm the last, they're either here; or I'll never see them again." Grant commented.

"Mm. We can sort the Database by Location, by Name, Origin-"

"Origin?" Grant repeated. "What does that mean?"

"A lot of people need to hear from people they know and trust. And sometimes they only believe it if it comes from people like them. So if they can look up people from the same neighborhood, the same decade, the same… Well, anything from favorite sport to favorite food. Find some people like you, and get them to tell you if the world is real, or just a very intense dream." She gestured at the Terminal. "All those options are here. If you want to look for anyone in particular, you can."

Grant sniffed. "Tell you the truth, Rika… all the people I knew back in my life; I'm glad to know they've had centuries to forget about me."

"Really? There's nobody you've lost that you would see again? Your time was close to the point of no return; but you died of old age. Tribulation Survivors have fewer Reunions than the rest of us; and I'm told when you got to a certain age, you stopped making friends and started losing them. You're the last. Everyone you buried is here already."

Grant scoffed, then paused. "Everyone?"

Rika nodded with a smile. "I detect a gleam in your eye."

Grant schooled his face. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Rika rose. "Well, I'm going to go get myself a cup of coffee." She said brightly. "I should be gone for… oh, about fifteen minutes or so."

Grant tracked her with his eyes. She was giving him the room. It had been a long time since he'd been unobserved. "You aren't worried about anything, are you?" He said as she reached the door.

"Give it time, New Guy." Rika said over her shoulder. "You won't be, either."

Grant had been in prison long enough to know when a guard was trying to provoke an action, or feigning disinterest. Rika was genuinely leaving him alone to look for people he didn't want to talk about.

The people here would never make it in the real world.

And then he found the name and address he was looking for, and forgot all about Rika. "Now…" He thought aloud quietly. "What's the fastest way to get to Cornwall?"

The Terminal had apparently heard his question and taken it as an instruction. It answered him immediately. "Conveyance ordered. Arrival in three minutes."

"Wait! I have no money for that!" Grant said quickly.

"Transportation is Classified as a Public Service." The Terminal responded. "Have a wonderful day."

Having lived his life in the Last Days, he was familiar with computers and the internet. The fact that this one was so enthusiastic about wishing him well was still the least bizarre thing that he'd seen since waking up.

~~/*\~~

He came out of the Dorms and found a vehicle parked out front, as promised. He slipped into the backseat and told the driver he needed to get to Cornwall, when he suddenly noticed there was no driver. He'd never been alone in an Auto before.

And then the car started to levitate steadily into the sky.

Grant let out a squawk automatically. He'd seen the Auto's all over the place, but he'd stuck to slower methods of public transport for his own travels thus far. The engine, or the jets, or whatever was keeping him up in the air ran almost silent, and the higher he went, the more things he saw in the sky.

The city lay beneath him, and he suddenly saw the edge of it. Except that the edges of it were hard to define. Very few skyscrapers, and borders that blended so perfectly with nature that it was hard to tell where one started at the other ended.

And then his Device chimed. Grant answered it. "Hello?"

"If you wanted to go somewhere, I would have taken you." Rika said. She didn't sound angry.

"Lady, I'm in a flying car without a driver; can we talk about this later? And where would one find a parachute?"

"There hasn't been a crash or an injury in almost nine hundred years." Rika countered. "Just enjoy the ride. Those things can go anywhere in the world. I'm assuming you're going somewhere in particular?"

"I am."

"Then have a nice flight. I'll be in touch."

"Just like that?"

"I told you: You're not a prisoner anymore." Rika promised. "Though if I may ask… what do you see up there?"

Grant looked around the sky. "I see other cars like this one… I see… Is that a Dinosaur?"

"Like the Convention said: Lots of extinct critters are back. The world is more diverse than we ever thought." Rika said brightly.

Grant saw airships, like the one he had flown in. "Why are there Airships?"

"Because some people like Airships."

"Yeah, but you have flying cars. I'm outpacing the Airship; I can see it. If this thing can take me anywhere, why do you still bother with Airships?"

"Because some people like Airships." Rika said again. "Actually, you know what? Look at your device. There's a blue app on the screen. Looks like two stick figures sitting side by side? Tap that."

Grant looked at his device and found the appropriate control. He tapped, and a blue grid shone from the edge of the device… before the shape of a person suddenly coalesced into being beside him in the car. It was Rika. "Easier to talk like this." She said, and Grant jumped. Her voice was coming from beside him, not the device. "This is called a Holo. When my mother was your age, you had to anchor one to the ground. Now you can carry it around in a contact lens. For newcomers like you, we use pocket devices. Shorter learning curve; easier to learn on."

Grant waved a hand at her, and his hand passed straight through her. "A projection?"

"A hologram. You may have seen something like it in a stage magic show before waking up here."

"I saw people delivering handwritten letters back at the Foundation." Grant protested.

"And you were wondering why we have airships when we have flying cars." Rika nodded. "Same reason we have holographic phone-calls, and handwritten letters, side by side. We live in a world where your house can redesign itself without you having to get out of your chair, and where Dinosaurs are working farm animals. DaVinci and Nikola Tesla are co-founders of the world's most profitable Think Tank, Solomon is available for officiating weddings; and Sinatra can sing, if you can get the booking. There's a cast iron pot in every kitchen; and we can take actual walking tours of the Moon. Take my word for it, Grant: Everything that exists in the world is here because it is loved by someone."

"That include the people?"

"Absolutely."

"Don't know if I believe that."

"Well, you're on your way to someone now; and I'm betting it's not because you hate them." Rika said with uncanny accuracy.

Grant looked out the window, getting less concerned that the door was about to pop open, or that the car would fall out of the sky. "It's… It's beautiful." He admitted finally.

"It is."

"I don't get it. I saw movies. People who talk about the future have only two views: Either it's all polished chrome and people in silver jumpsuits, or it's a barren wasteland; full of maniacs and cannibals; fighting over scraps. How did you do it?"

"We did surprisingly little." Rika said warmly. "What we talked about before, about you being the last? All your people are already here. Some have been here for centuries. I did my research, and I know your story. I've heard worse. But something that strikes me? You were a follower, who became a leader. A criminal one perhaps, but to be a leader, the only thing you need is followers. Doesn't matter if you're a king, a mafia don, or Captain of a Chess Club. Someone obeys you when you speak, you're a leader. So you tell me, what kind of leadership can raise up everyone who has ever lived in human history, give them a set of rules to follow, and have them all agree it's for the best?"

Long silence.

"Nobody human." Grant admitted finally. "But I'm a fairly-"

"-a fairly intelligent guy and I don't believe God is a reasonable, logical explanation." Rika said the rest of his sentence with him. "I've met scientists, experienced Interpol Investigators, and Nobel Prize winners. They're all here, and they sing praises with us every day. Intelligence and faith are not mutually exclusive. In fact, the more I learn, the more I believe." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I'd be happy to put you in touch with them. In fact, when you're done with whatever you're up to, come back and I'll introduce you. Everyone in my family has at least three Doctorates."

"And why do I get the feeling that everyone down there can say the same?" Grant challenged.

"Probably true. Now you tell me: Who can come up with a set of laws and morals for the whole human race, and build a utopia that gives space to the Futurists and the Luddites, the masters and apprentices, the young and the ancient?"

Grant said nothing. He had no answer.

Rika pushed gently. "I've spoken with some of your former conspirators. You couldn't keep a gang together when one member came from the Westside and the other from the Sou'Side. God can raise the dead and make families out of everyone."

"So… how? Is it just a lightning bolt or two and people get into line?"

"Discipline is for protection. Making a family? That takes love."

"That's the most-"

"-Most naive thing you've ever heard." Rika said it with him in perfect unison.

"I was going to say childish." Grant floundered.

"I'm not that much younger than you." Rika retorted. "My mom had me at five centuries old, and she ran a 'Halfway Home' for all the kids Returned without anyone waiting for them." Rika countered. "My grandfather is two centuries older than her, and his best friend, whom I know as 'Uncle Alec'? Been in Paradise from the start. You can't play the 'naive young person' card. As the last Returnee, you're a toddler next to the people I call family."

Grant said nothing.

"So, your turn." Rika said lightly. "What's your counter-argument?"

"I will admit, I don't have a better explanation for what's happened to the world since I took a nap in a prison hospital. But from a day of that Convention alone, it makes no sense. I don't know why your God would-"

"-would want someone like you to be here for eternity; because you don't make a holy land with such sinners." Rika finished that sentence with him. "I've heard that from people who spent their lives killing little kids when the voices in their head sang off-key. They are here. So are their victims. You can't hurt anyone here; and for your sins, you died. You've served your sentence."

Silence.

"Nine hundred years in the grave." Grant said finally. "If I'm not the worst one in history, why am I the last? What, about me, was so horrific that God decided to keep me out of the garden for longer than everyone else in history?"

"Your 'place in the queue' had nothing to do with any of that." Rika promised him. "We've had centuries of data to compare, and finally, we worked out the algorithm; but the one thing we can't predict? What people add to the world once they get here. We knew you were coming, but what you'll do now is a mystery to us. That's entirely up to you."

"You say it's up to me, but I'm starting-"

"-starting over with nothing, and only one choice available." Rika said it with him.

"Will you stop that!?" Grant exclaimed, starting to be impressed despite himself.

"You managed to get a flying car for an international flight. Are you really that worried about where to find lunch?" Rika returned. "You've got a million and one options to choose from; and you'll be able to change your mind whenever you like. We've all changed careers multiple times. You stay in one place for a hundred years, your feet go to sleep. Most of the people older than me keep moving, Grant; it keeps you young."

"Alright, Professor. You've made your point." Grant scowled. He'd talked his way around persecutors and District Attorneys, hitmen, and his own jailers. But this youngish looking woman was running circles around him; reading his mind with every sentence. "So quick with the smooth answers."

"It's not an act, it's practice. We've been welcoming people back from the dead for almost our entire lifespan. Which is considerable, these days. It's the defining part of this millennium. The next millennium, who knows? But for now, all I can say is: We know what you're going through; because we've all met at least ten people who have gone through it already."

"I haven't." Grant snapped, fed up.

"I know. Which is why you need to talk to whoever you need to talk to." Rika told him gently. "When you're done, come find me. I won't be hard to find." She smiled. "Roll with it, Grant. This is the easy part. The work starts when you accept that this is really happening; and take a long hard look in the mirror. You died in a prison hospital. When was the last time you made a choice to change your life in a moral and conscientious way?"

"I don't know, but I know I was being charged as a minor at the time."

"Right. The hard part about Paradise isn't going to be what we do, brother." Rika said honestly. "You're on your way somewhere personal. I should disconnect now."

"Thank you." Grant agreed, and Rika vanished into thin air, the Device going dark in his hand.

~~/*\~~

The car took him directly to the house. He had expected it to be a vacant lot. There was no way the house had survived nine hundred years. And yet, there it was. But then he looked again. The windows were different, the garden was now perfectly cultivated. There were trees instead of bushes around the backyard; and the paint wasn't peeling for the first time.

In the front yard, there she was. She looked… healthy. No limp.

She saw the car coming, of course, but didn't wave or come over. Not until he landed, and stepped out. When she saw his face, she let out a breath like she'd been holding it a hundred years.

He came as far as the front gate, but no closer. "I believe now." He said quietly, though it was clear she heard him. "I wasn't sure before, and I am now."

Melody nodded. "I wasn't sure. But I looked you up, and you weren't here. They said I was one of the last five people Returned."

"They say I'm the very last one."

"I'm glad I didn't have to wait. I… uh, wanted to see you; when they told me what this place was? I knew I had to talk to you above anyone else." She bit her lip. "How did you find me?"

"It wasn't hard. The Database was-"

"No, I mean… last time." She said quietly, afraid of the answer.

Grant looked down. "I went to the Department of Records. You'd stayed anonymous; but there was a contact number."

She nodded. "I wanted to know… when you were placed somewhere."

"I rang the number, and it was disconnected, but there was this guy in Juvie who was there for some phone scam. He knew how to make untraceable calls, track numbers… I helped him out with some bullies; and he repaid my 'protection' by telling me how to reverse-lookup a number. Billing departments never lose track of anyone…" He shrugged. "So I found your address. The rest of the story you know."

"In Juvie, huh?" Melody actually seemed relieved. "I didn't ask you last time. I was worried I was the reason you started down a life of crime."

"No. You weren't." He promised quietly. "So, um… What have you been up to?"

"Taking some time." She admitted. "Trying to process, really. I haven't been back that long."

"Your husband?"

"My ex-husband. I'm told he came back too, but I don't have to ever see him again if I don't want to. It's what I wanted, back then. I stayed because I had nowhere else to go. But this house is free, the food is free… Leisure time. It's hard to fathom; let alone figure out what to do with it." She glanced away from the teapot. "Now you." She said quietly. "You could have gone anywhere in the world; what made you pick here?"

He looked down. "I… I came back here sometimes. The place was abandoned, back before. When I found out what had happened to you… That he found you again... I don't know. I lost it."

She nodded. "I never thanked you, for that first time. Never knew how to make it up to you." She took a shuddering breath. "Ask me your question."

"What question?"

"The one you didn't get the chance to ask when I answered my front door that day." She said quietly. "I opened the door, and you saw me, and you started to say something, when you saw the bruises… And forced your way into the house to put my husband in a headlock." She took another shuddering breath. "If I had been wearing long sleeves that day; and you hadn't been thrown straight into Juvie again… What would you have asked me?"

And Grant finally said it. "Are you my mother?"

Melody spoke, calmly and firmly. "Yes." And then she burst into tears.

Grant was gray and wrinkled, but he jumped the fence and ran to her immediately, both of them clinging to each other.

"He didn't know?" Grant asked in her ear.

"You were mine. You weren't his." She sniffed. "Not that it would have made a difference. I cheated on him constantly. It was why he finally... finished me off, in fact."

"He did what he did because he was evil. I don't care if you had a revolving door, there's no excuse for what he did. You were scared." Grant excused. "When I got out…"

"I wasn't there anymore." She nodded. "When I found out your name, I went to the trial, but..." She burst into sobs again. "But I didn't say why you came to our door, and you went to prison. What kind of woman does that to her son?" She clutched at him, smooth skin against his wrinkles. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry…."

"Listen, as long as we're on the subject of confession…" Grant took a breath. "I had been to your house before. You were at the trial, which means you heard the Police testify that I was... stalking you." He looked down. "I'm not proud of it; but I wanted to… check you out first. I picked up a baseball bat, and forced my way in… you know what? It did more than the cops would." He winced. "It was a lesson I took to heart. I just kind of… kept a baseball bat close by."

"Until he found me again, I thought it would be enough too." She agreed. "You know that in our time, most of the boys in the UK with a violent juvie record… The majority of them? First time they start a fight is to defend their own mothers from whoever's hitting them. That was when I knew for sure."

Grant was almost crying. "By the time I was a life sentence, even the Judges and DA's in my town knew it: Anyone who hurt girls didn't last long in Stone Prison."

Long silence.

"It's funny, but…" Melody sniffed, smiling a bit. "When they told me that God had returned me to life, the first thing I thought of was you."

"Me?" He seemed stunned.

"Nobody had ever… saved my life before." She admitted. "The house was secluded enough, but I went into town every week. They all knew what was happening, but… Nobody had ever even tried." She brought him tea. "Sorry, there's no coffee. I had the house rebuilt like I wanted it, but I'm still setting up inside, and…"

"This is perfect." He promised. "There was a time I would have paid everything I had to sit and have tea with you."

She smiled a bit. "I don't blame you for not believing. If God is real, it meant He was watching the whole time. I haven't quite made up my mind of how I feel about that, even after being restored." She trailed her fingers over his and set his cup aside. She rested her hands on his shoulders, pulled him in closer. "Maybe it didn't help, but it mattered. You mattered to me."

Long silence. Grant suddenly realized why the moment felt familiar. He had seen an image in a stained glass window of the prison chapel, of the Madonna comforting a wounded battlefield soldier, hugging him to her stomach. And now Melody was doing the same. She had always been his first idea of what an Angel should be. That's why he needed to protect her.

She broke the hug. "When we first met, I was, obviously, old enough to be your mom. Now you're old enough to be my grandfather. The Elder who greeted me? He met his father for the first time in the Returning. The Elder was over three hundred years old. His father, when Returned off a battlefield, was twenty-three. Old Age was my mortal fear once. It seems so irrelevant here."

"Doesn't seem right that old age got me." Grant said weakly. "Some of the things I did…"

She hummed. "Age suits you, but I look forward to seeing it fade."

Grant looked down again, not wanting to tell her that he didn't buy it. Even with her right there, he didn't believe it could be that simple.

"You should know, I'm going to make a go of it. Being like them." Melody told him. "Because I'm alive now, and you're here. You and God are the only two people who tried to save my life; and that means something. Because I got through each day by telling myself not to worry about being happy, or being safe. I told myself that the meaning of life was just to keep breathing; no matter how hard it got." She looked at him. "But then you took some lumps for me; and suddenly that wasn't good enough. You sort of… raised the price tag. Made my life more valuable somehow. I don't know how to repay that, but when I asked God; I think I got an answer."

He blinked. "Really?"

"Yup. They told me that the old house was still available, and I could have it back if I wanted to." She shook her head. "Almost a thousand years, the world divvied up into billions of parcels for each person; and somehow my old home remains open until I get here. The Dorms were available, but I wanted to be here. And you showed up at the end of the path; like it was happening all over again. A do-over so blatant that if I was watching it in a movie, I wouldn't believe it." She broke the hug and put the cup back in his hand. "You were the only one that cared when I died. Both of us being the last two? Easy for us to find out about each other? Being here at this exact spot when you come back? That's not a coincidence."

"It's because you mattered to me, too." He nodded.

"Right." She agreed softly. "God knew that."

Long silence. The two of them finished their tea, washed the cups clean, and put them away, without a word being spoken. Twenty minutes, thirty; without a sound. Just being there together.

"I never had a real life." Melody said finally. "When I did have my own life, I spent it working three jobs to stay ahead of hunger. The concept of a good life with leisure time and people who cared? It's a fairytale to me. I know I did wrong things, but I can't remember a time when I wasn't always worried and lonely."

Grant bit his lip. "I never had a real life either. There were no jobs, no… I spent ten years in prison for trying to protect someone once. Leisure time was all I had, but the idea of living honest was a fairytale to me, because once you're out, it's not like you get another chance… I know I did wrong things too, but I can't remember a time when I wasn't always afraid and lonely either."

Melody nodded. "Grant, I feel like I'm on rollerskates, trying to figure the world out, but I'm not afraid here." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "I went to one of their meetings. I heard them quote a verse… I knew I'd never find it again, so I got them to write it down." She read it to him. "Tell them to work at good, to be rich in fine works, to be generous, ready to share, safely treasuring up for themselves a fine foundation for the future, so that they may get a firm hold on the real life."

"You believe that?"

"I want to. But if it's true; I'm not staying quiet this time." Melody went to the window, voice getting stronger. "Look out that window, Grant. First time in my life I'm being told there's nothing to be scared of. I don't know if I'm being suckered again, but I know that we're both here, and I'm feeling fine."

Grant found he was nodding. "I walk around when I'm alone. All those nights, I didn't meet one person who wouldn't look at my face. Not one person who didn't say hello as we passed. I barely got that from my own people, before coming here."

"I want it!" Melody hissed, halfway between hungry and hunting. "I want Real Life! I want MY Life! The Life I Should Have Had! Because I'll promise you one thing, Grant: I'm not going back to the way it was." She leaned out the window and shouted it. "I'm not going back!"

Grant rose, went to the door and started shouting with her. Shouting at what, he didn't know. The lake, the tree; the universe… Maybe God Himself. "I'm NOT Going Back!" He shouted. "I'm Alive Again! She's Alive Again! ALIVE!"

"ALIVE!" She shouted back. "No Fear! NO MORE! ALIVE!"

"ALIVE!" Grant flat out roared, and looked back at her. Her face was glowing, eyes shining, smiling like she'd found something glorious. He knew he had the same look on his own face when he looked at her.

And they both started giggling, huge smiles.

"It's so good to see you again." He said, tears rolling down his face. "So good to be here."

"What Paradise Means To You?" She guessed. "I'm happy too."

~~/*\~~

"Sure, Grant. Sounds like you're right where you need to be." Rika said warmly. "When you're ready to come back to the world, look me up. There's still a lot of wonderful left to see." She listened to his answer, and waved at her parents, coming down the path to her home. "Okay. See you then. Be happy."

She hung up just as her parents walked in. "Rika." Biggs smiled at his daughter. "Didn't expect to find you home. Your new charge here with you?"

Rika shook her head. "Nope. He finally worked up the nerve to look for his family in the Database. He found his mom. Apparently, the reunion was terrifying for them both; but it went well enough that he wants to stay with her for a while."

Megan let out a breath. "Amen. The two hardest parts when someone comes back: The things they don't recognize, and the things they do. People are always the hardest thing on the list."

"Well, I'll take your word for it." Rika smiled a bit. "I wasn't there when all the 'cousins' came back."

Biggs smiled a bit. Megan had spent most of her life finding a home for younger ones, but Rika was the only child they're really raised as their own once they married. All the other Returned kids were grown now, and most of them still considered Megan their first real contact in Paradise. Rika had met most of them growing up, at one time or another. Family could be a very flexible arrangement among Returnees. "Other than that, how did it go, Sweetie?"

Rika pulled her head in a bit at her father's question. "I was nervous." She admitted. "I don't know how you guys did it with so many people. I was starting to think I'd get away with not getting assigned a Returnee at all."

"What's he like?"

"Cagey. It feels like he's thinking a dozen things he's not saying." Rika said. "I know enough about him, but only from the Database. He doesn't talk about himself."

"A basic survival skill in some parts of the old world." Biggs admitted. "What did you find out?"

"From him, only that he had a prison record. Not a small group. Word is, the time he lived in had more prisoners, per capita; than-" She stopped. Her father had been a Tribulation Survivor, but she knew he had a record of his own, Back Before. He would not need a refresher on it. "Hopefully it'll be better from here on out." Rika moved on swiftly. "He might open up more, now that he's found his mom." She had no idea why Megan looked so stricken by the casual comment. "Mom? What's wrong?"

Biggs let out a breath. "Yup. Knew that was coming." He said quietly. "Seems ghosts are coming from all sides today."

"Is something going on?" Rika asked, very aware of the sudden tension from both of her parents. Two people that were usually unflappable, even by Paradise standards.

Megan and Biggs traded a long look, debating silently. Finally, Megan spoke. "Sit down, love. Your dad is going to make us some decadent dessert drink, and you and I are going to have a chat."

Rika blinked. "About?"

"Where you came from."