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It had been almost three weeks since Dave had returned to Halcyon. At Floyd’s request he would be joining the Halcyon River expedition the next day. Going over his supplies for the third time, Dave wanted to be sure he had everything he would need. His steel crossbow had been giving him trouble, so he rechecked the mechanism to ensure it worked flawlessly.
He glanced over at Al; since Glenn had remained in New Jerusalem, they had become roommates. Things were working out well between them; they continued to enjoy an easy companionship. The only thing Dave didn’t really “get” about his friend was his devotion to the Bible. He read it every day. He was reading it now. Al seemed to sense Dave’s gaze on him and looked up. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed the day old stubble on his chin.
“I was thinking of inviting Tom and Dwight over for Bible study and prayer,” Al said, “if you don’t object.”
Why would I object? They’re my friends too. Why does this request bother me?
But Dave’s response to Al betrayed none of his inner turmoil. “No problem,” he said. “I thought you were meeting over at the Student Union building.”
“We were,” said Al. “In fact, we had a group of about thirty meeting in a booked room at the SUB. But last week a representative from campus patrol stopped by and told us we had to stop meeting there, and we’d no longer be permitted to book a room. Apparently when the Halcyon Society for Freedom and Liberty found out we were holding a Bible study, they complained to the senate that we were using public property for religious purposes. The senate decided that since Halcyon is a secular society and needs to be careful about the separation of Church and state, they had no alternative but to ask us to stop meeting on public property. The patrolman pointed out that if we were allowed to use public property for a Bible study, then students of other religious persuasions would conclude that the government of Halcyon was endorsing our particular religion, and that would make students feel uncomfortable. Since we had no place to meet, we decided as a group to split up into small cell groups and meet in our dorm rooms. So here we are.”
“Sounds kind of stupid to me,” said Dave. “The Church of Universal Enlightenment holds dances at the SUB all the time. Why aren’t they stopped?”
“I tried that argument,” said Al. They told me those dances were charitable events for improving morale and therefore exempt. You’re right; the rules aren’t applied very uniformly.”
Dave shrugged his shoulders.
“I should point out,” said Al, “that we won’t inform the senate we’re meeting here, since they may claim that this dorm room is also a public place.”
“No problem,” said Dave. “Your secret is safe with me! I may head over to the party.”
Dave felt guilty. Uncle Charlie’s last words still bothered him. He had wanted to do what Uncle Charlie had asked. At first he had tried reading the Bible, but Genesis made no sense to him. He never really decided to give up on his promise; he’d just drifted away. Too much to do—parties, getting caught up on the news, the fun of watching television again after months in the bush—he just stopped trying. And here was Al, reminding him about his broken promise. Guilt and more guilt. He had to get away.
Dave stepped out into the chilly night air. The sound of crickets was broken by the mournful song of the opera bird. The birdsong brought some comfort; it reminded him of some of the good times they’d had on the mainland during their exploration expedition. But inevitably his thoughts turned to the friends he had lost. As he walked past dormitory Schopenhauer, which had recently been converted into a daycare center, he could hear the sounds of infants and toddlers who were having trouble falling asleep. There had been a spate of new births following the dislocation, but hardly any marriages. Since the young mothers were working and going to the classes that had resumed, they had little time to look after their infants, and the senate had needed to make daycare a priority. The students called it “the Staycare Center” since the children never left, and the mothers could stay with them overnight when they desired to do so. Things had changed a great deal since he had left for Botany Bay and since Blackmore had taken over. All these reforms—was this what O’Reilly had tried to warn him about?
When Dave arrived at the gymnasium, the booze was already flowing. Many of the participants were drunk and behaving wildly. Dave began to regret that he’d come at all. In the first days after he had returned from the mainland, getting together with fellow students at these parties had been about the only thing that had stood between him and despair. But now the parties had lost their luster. Sponsored by the Church of Universal Enlightenment, members expounded that the gatherings were the perfect example of the importance of love, the central virtue of all faiths. Along the far wall, Dave saw a group of young men and women working on their latest assigned project from the mandatory sex education classes, another one of the innovations introduced by Blackmore.
They look remarkably like prostitutes, and that’s really not far off the mark. Things have changed quite a lot in the last six months.
After speaking to a couple of friends, Dave left the party and walked to the harbor. It was one of his favorite places, and he unconsciously returned here, as he often had in the past, to a rock on the hillside overlooking the bay. He loved to look at the sea. The sound of the waves lapping against the boats and the call of the gulls diminished his sense of loss and isolation, and the rank despair he’d felt after O’Reilly had died.
The university sailboats were moored in neat groups at the wharf, looking like the fronds of a palm leaf. Far off to the right, he could see the truncated bridge, dimly lit by road lights.
As he sat watching the lighthouse blink far off at the entrance to the bay, Dave thought about the children growing up in the Staycare Center, and what it would be like to grow up in an orphanage or school. From your earliest days, you’d be associating with kids in cliques and gangs. You’d never have anybody to whom you really belonged and who cared enough about you to scold you or to make you buck up, he thought. They’ll never know what they missed.
Thinking about his own parents made him gloomy. He rose and walked to the gym. A vigorous workout in the weight room kept him from thinking any more about his lost family, Uncle Charlie, and the life that would never come again.
He realized with a start how much he was looking forward to leaving Halcyon tomorrow. There was something dark and oppressive about the university that he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt he was in a dream, in which someone was warning him of danger; and yet he couldn’t understand the language and so couldn’t heed the warning. He only hoped he would awaken before it was too late.