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Authors: Jerry Ahern
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game that would destroy the ball forever.
But no one understood that as he did.
To them, the chance of destruction was a risk to be taken.
To him, destruction was not a risk; it was a certainty.
Chapter Twelve
There was to be a formal dinner tonight, Natalia was told shortly after their arrival. The people of New Germany in Argentina did not utilize money, but rather—like something out of the science fiction novels so popular in the twentieth century—a system of credits, hence credit cards. Such a credit card was presented to her, and identical ones—save for the names and registration numbers—were given to Sarah, Annie, and Maria.
Sarah and Maria had gone off together, and Natalia was now alone with Annie—alone save for the seemingly thousands of other persons milling about the streets and byways of the German city.
And to Natalia, after all this time, any sort of crowd was difficult to adjust to.
She wore the only “decent” clothes she’d brought with her, having thought more along the lines of fighting than shopping, and for once saw some advantages to Annie’s more normally formal attire. Except when situations demanded otherwise, even in the field, Annie wore a skirt. As they walked down the street a friendly policewoman had directed them toward, Natalia looked at Annie and smiled. “Isn’t this absurd?”
“Shopping? You used to be able to shop. I’ve never been able to shop. What do you do?”
“Well, you walk around the store and pretend as if you’re disinterested, but always politely disinterested. A salesperson comes up to you and asks if you need help. You tell her you’re just looking, and she tells you to call if you need any assistance. You keep walking around and then the saleswoman comes up to you again, asks what you’re looking for. You tell her in general terms, and she immediately shows
you something she thinks would look perfect for your purposes. Then you tell her you’re still just looking around, and you eventually find something you want to try on. Well, then you find the saleswoman and she shows you where to change, and when you come out, wearing it, she tells you it looks lovely on you.” “What if it doesn’t?”
“That’s why they have mirrors,” Natalia laughed.
Michael Rourke considered his options as he cleaned his pistols. All of his options, of course, were predicated on survival of the coming battles for the domination of the Earth. But, if his side was victorious, then what?
He was a grown man of thirty years old, and he had no truly marketable skills other than those related to warfare. He had, ever since his father had awakened them, spent five years with them and then returned to The Sleep, telling himself that, someday, he would be a doctor … a doctor like his father.
Michael Rourke wondered now if that would ever happen.
And New Germany made his concerns all the more real. Because here, in New Germany, was probably the finest medical school on the present-day Earth. Even without competition, it was more advanced by far than anything that had existed in the days his father had attended school.
And here, in New Germany, Maria Leuden was in her familiar surroundings, where she belonged.
He loved her, but did he belong here? Could he belong anywhere?
And did he love her enough?
For the thousandth or millionth or billionth time, Michael Rourke opened his wallet and studied one photograph there … Madison, beautiful in her wedding dress, standing beside him.
He had always thought she looked like the popular concept of an angel, and now she was among them, apart from him forever; or, if there was a Heaven and by some fluke, with all the death and destruction to his credit, he was admitted there, apart from her until his death.
In an odd way—a way in which he somehow felt ashamed for even considering—he was somewhat comforted that she was not alone. Their unborn child had gone to death and to the grave with her.
He’d sometimes
But no one understood that as he did.
To them, the chance of destruction was a risk to be taken.
To him, destruction was not a risk; it was a certainty.
Chapter Twelve
There was to be a formal dinner tonight, Natalia was told shortly after their arrival. The people of New Germany in Argentina did not utilize money, but rather—like something out of the science fiction novels so popular in the twentieth century—a system of credits, hence credit cards. Such a credit card was presented to her, and identical ones—save for the names and registration numbers—were given to Sarah, Annie, and Maria.
Sarah and Maria had gone off together, and Natalia was now alone with Annie—alone save for the seemingly thousands of other persons milling about the streets and byways of the German city.
And to Natalia, after all this time, any sort of crowd was difficult to adjust to.
She wore the only “decent” clothes she’d brought with her, having thought more along the lines of fighting than shopping, and for once saw some advantages to Annie’s more normally formal attire. Except when situations demanded otherwise, even in the field, Annie wore a skirt. As they walked down the street a friendly policewoman had directed them toward, Natalia looked at Annie and smiled. “Isn’t this absurd?”
“Shopping? You used to be able to shop. I’ve never been able to shop. What do you do?”
“Well, you walk around the store and pretend as if you’re disinterested, but always politely disinterested. A salesperson comes up to you and asks if you need help. You tell her you’re just looking, and she tells you to call if you need any assistance. You keep walking around and then the saleswoman comes up to you again, asks what you’re looking for. You tell her in general terms, and she immediately shows
you something she thinks would look perfect for your purposes. Then you tell her you’re still just looking around, and you eventually find something you want to try on. Well, then you find the saleswoman and she shows you where to change, and when you come out, wearing it, she tells you it looks lovely on you.” “What if it doesn’t?”
“That’s why they have mirrors,” Natalia laughed.
Michael Rourke considered his options as he cleaned his pistols. All of his options, of course, were predicated on survival of the coming battles for the domination of the Earth. But, if his side was victorious, then what?
He was a grown man of thirty years old, and he had no truly marketable skills other than those related to warfare. He had, ever since his father had awakened them, spent five years with them and then returned to The Sleep, telling himself that, someday, he would be a doctor … a doctor like his father.
Michael Rourke wondered now if that would ever happen.
And New Germany made his concerns all the more real. Because here, in New Germany, was probably the finest medical school on the present-day Earth. Even without competition, it was more advanced by far than anything that had existed in the days his father had attended school.
And here, in New Germany, Maria Leuden was in her familiar surroundings, where she belonged.
He loved her, but did he belong here? Could he belong anywhere?
And did he love her enough?
For the thousandth or millionth or billionth time, Michael Rourke opened his wallet and studied one photograph there … Madison, beautiful in her wedding dress, standing beside him.
He had always thought she looked like the popular concept of an angel, and now she was among them, apart from him forever; or, if there was a Heaven and by some fluke, with all the death and destruction to his credit, he was admitted there, apart from her until his death.
In an odd way—a way in which he somehow felt ashamed for even considering—he was somewhat comforted that she was not alone. Their unborn child had gone to death and to the grave with her.
He’d sometimes
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