Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.
—Margaret Mead, twentieth-century anthropologist
Diffuse, golden light glows all around me. I see it, even with my eyes closed. Every muscle has settled into blissful relaxation. I have been scrubbed, I have been pummelled. I have been shown how to stretch and bend my body in ways I did not know it could stretch or bend. I search for the sound of the wheel of anger and realize it’s gone. The silence left behind is sweeter than any music. There will be room for other feelings now.
I’m lying on a mat on the floor of a huge hall in a bio-spa, Dozens of other people lie around me. This should remind me of sleeping with my Tribe. It doesn’t. Instead, it reminds me of a poem. Without thinking, I begin to recite.
Ah! Sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun,
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller’s journey is done.
From her mat on the floor beside me, Kayko smiles.
“William Blake,” she says. Her voice sounds as relaxed as I feel. After a moment she adds, “That poem has a second verse.”
“I know, but it doesn’t seem appropriate somehow.”
Kayko nods. The second verse of that poem is about ghosts. “The time for ghosts is passing,” she says. Silently, I agree.
“Blake was the poet my mother named me for,” I say. “But he wasn’t her favourite poet. She loved Shakespeare best of all, but she couldn’t figure out a way to name me after him.”
I know all these things now. My Uncle Tony even managed to bring his scribe with him when they fled, so I have pictures of my mother with me as a baby and toddler. We are always hugging one another, always smiling. He has pictures of me with my father, too. I’m not ready to ask for copies of those yet.
“You learned a lot about your mother from them, didn’t you?” Kayko says.
“I did, and I’m going to know even more. Erica says I can stay at the commune with Emily and Uncle Tony as long as I want.”
“When do you go back?”
“Tomorrow morning. My victim statement is the last thing that’s keeping me here in Toronto.”
Kayko rises on her elbow. “Blake, I wish things had turned out differently. We really miss you.”
I smile at her. “Kayko, if I had to stay here now I don’t know what I’d do. Emily and her father can’t leave the commune, they don’t have enough people to do all the work as it is. I’ve lived that kind of life before. I’ll be useful to them. And I have to be there now. When I met my father, I thought I’d never be related to anyone I could love. Emily and her father always kept a place in their hearts for me, even though they thought I was dead. Being with them is so different from being with anyone else.”
“Family,” Kayko says. “I think I understand.”
“I can’t stay with them for very long, but I want to know them as well as I can before I go back to Terra Nova.”
“What about your father?” Kayko asks.
“Uncle Tony and my father went through school together, they worked together. It sounds like he was the only friend my father ever had. That first night when I found them, we stayed up all night, talking. I told them what happened to my mother, and what happened to me, and then I told them about my father. The whole story. When I finished, Uncle Tony said that he didn’t blame my father for anything. He said, that day in the Hippodrome when Internal Security came to find people from the remote sensing lab, my father stepped forward before anyone else could. ‘I’m the one you want,’ he said, and he went with them before they had time to consider who else they might take.”
Kayko’s eyes widen. “He saved them?”
“That’s what my uncle says. But my father didn’t tell me that. Uncle Tony says he wouldn’t. He said it’s like my father to blame himself for everything. He said, ‘Evan has got to learn to forgive himself.’ He’s asked to visit my father in prison.”
“Will they let him?”
“Hanif says it can be arranged. If anyone can bring my father out of his shell, it will be my Uncle Tony. He even said he’d testify on my father’s behalf if he comes to trial.”
“The way things are going, that might not be necessary. The South African process is gaining a lot of public support. People like your father might get amnesty.”
I haven’t allowed myself to consider what I really want for my father. Suddenly, I realize I’d like him to be free. Maybe, in time, we could forge some kind of bond. “That’s a long way ahead.”
“We should go soon,” Kayko says. “Everyone will be waiting.”
“Soon,” I agree, but I lie back in the light of the artificial sun a moment longer. “I’m glad you brought me here. Now, I finally know what fun is.”
“Actually,” Kayko says, “I consider this therapeutic. The next time you come back to the city, we’ll tackle fun.” She stands up. “Come on. We really do have to go.”
We shower and dress, and Kayko’s driver takes us to Queen’s Park. We have to show our security passes before the car is allowed anywhere near the building today. Hundreds of people cover the lawns, and huge projectors have been placed around so they will be able to see the proceedings inside.
People recognize me and cheer. I walk up the red sandstone steps, turn, and wave. The crowd roars. I cringe inwardly even as I smile. I’m not a hero. I never will be. But they want to think otherwise and I know I have to let them. Hanif is waiting inside the door. “I’ll escort you in,” he says. We walk into the big room that once held the parliament. The victim statements are being presented here.
Hanif leads me to a table at the front of the room and I sit facing the Justice Council members and their aides. All except for Kayko, who rushes through a back door and quickly takes her place behind her uncle with an impish smile of apology. The room behind me and the old visitors’ gallery above it are completely full. But there’s nothing solemn about this occasion. It’s like a party. The clamour in the room falls to a hush as soon as Dr. Siegel stands.
“I want to welcome everyone today,” he says. “We have a huge task ahead of us, but if the energy in this room is any indication, we are ready to meet the challenge. Before we begin hearing victim statements, the Transitional Council has an announcement to make. Six months from today, we will hold general elections for a new parliament. It will be the first in over two hundred years.”
The room erupts. It takes a long time for people to settle down. Finally, Dr. Siegel continues. “Before we can look to the future, we have to put the past to rest. It seems appropriate to begin these hearings with Blake Raintree. As most of you know, Blake came here to serve as an aide to the Justice Council. Because she drew attention to the needs of everyone who suffered in the technocaust, she was required to leave her position. We placed her first on the list of victims because of the sacrifice she made.”
Dr. Siegel sits down. Everyone looks at me. I can’t believe he said that. I don’t feel like the most important victim. This isn’t right. But I start to read the words in front of me because I don’t know what else to do.
“My name is Blake Raintree,” I say. “I was born on July 14, 2352. For the first sixteen years of my life I didn’t know those things about myself. Not my name or my birthdate or my age. I didn’t know who my parents were, or how I had been separated from them. I didn’t know if I was lost or thrown away. I want everyone to know how this happened to me . . .” My voice falters, then stops. I’ve waited so long for this moment, and now, it seem meaningless. I don’t need to make a victim statement. I’m not a victim any more.
Everyone is watching me. I read the concern on the faces of my friends. Erica looks like she’s ready to stop everything. “Don’t worry,” I say softly. “I’m all right.”
I raise my voice again so it connects with the amplification system, including everyone in the room. “Most of you already know my story,” I say. “I don’t want to talk about that any more. The past is over. I have more important things to say, about what I’ve learned since I came here, about letting go of hate.” I push my scribe away. I don’t need notes now. I take a deep breath and free-fall into the future.