SUPPER WAS PEAS and bacon, cooked on Jessica’s salvaged hot plate. Lamont couldn’t remember what he’d eaten at his last meal, but he doubted that it had been anything like this. This was hunting-camp fare at best.
He took in the tiny apartment: the stained walls, the plastic window sheeting, the threadbare furniture. He was embarrassed by his bare feet, and by the angry black-and-blue bruise above his right ankle. A gentleman never appeared like this in mixed company. But at the moment, his silk socks were in the bathroom, soaking with his Egyptian cotton shirt. And even under these circumstances, dining with mismatched flatware and tin cups, his table manners were impeccable.
“My compliments,” he said.
“You’re too kind,” said Jessica.
Throughout the meal—such as it was—Lamont kept glancing over at Maddy, sitting to his right. In profile, she reminded him a little of Margo. Maybe it was just the blond hair.
“I guess you have a lot to catch up on, Lamont,” said Jessica, as Maddy cleared the plates.
“Things are…confusing,” admitted Lamont.
“He wouldn’t have lasted an hour without me,” called Maddy from the tiny kitchen.
“Probably true,” said Lamont. “Even though you’re a terrible driver.”
“Driver?” said Jessica. She stared at Lamont. “You let Maddy drive your car?” Maddy popped back in from the kitchen.
“Grandma, please—never mind,” said Maddy. “It’s not important.”
Lamont jumped in to change the subject.
“I can’t believe what’s happened to the city,” he said. “The Depression was bad. But this is worse!”
“Not quite the way you remember, is it?” said Jessica.
Lamont shook his head.
“Not quite the way I remember it either,” she said, waving Lamont and Maddy over to the sofa. The lights blinked again and then settled to a yellowish glow. The bulbs gave off a soft buzz.
“Come,” Jessica said gently. “Night school is in session.”
Maddy settled in against Jessica’s shoulder, Bando lay on the floor in front of them. Lamont leaned against the opposite arm of the sofa.
“Where do I start?” said Jessica. From Maddy, Lamont already knew about Gismonde. But only the basics. Now Jessica told him the whole story—about the economic panic that had brought the world to its knees over a decade ago, the growing distance between the haves and have-nots, the last gasp of the United Nations, the new office of world president, and the Alignment—the new world order designed to keep people in their place.
“Who allowed that to happen?” asked Lamont.
“It was meant to be temporary,” said Jessica, “an emergency measure, for global stability. But it just went on and on—and things got worse and worse. There were riots. But they got suppressed. After a while, for most people, it was easier to accept than resist. The people on top got theirs, and nobody cared about the rest.” She pulled a worn blanket up to her waist. “And now, it’s gone so far that it feels impossible to change. Impossible.”
Maddy had clearly heard this history before. Too many times. She closed her eyes, exhausted from the long day. In a few moments, she was asleep. Jessica brushed a tendril of hair from Maddy’s face and kissed her gently on the forehead.
“Now, Lamont,” she said softly. “Tell me about Margo. I want to know everything.”