The First Love Of Alipang Havens

Numerous internal exiles did in fact watch In The Enclave Today with interest, as regularly as they had opportunity. The Havens family had obtained an analog videocassette of the segment in which Eric and Emilio had been interviewed. But people still placed more trust in the Wyoming Observer. Miguel De Soto's brainchild was now sufficiently respectable that the Department of Distribution had picked up supporting it where the Department of Indoctrination had left off; while original text of the newspaper still was in the form of impact typing or even hand lettering, official duplication had increased, with facsimiles reaching all corners of the reservation.

Near sunset of the same day when his nephew Tommy had finished writing "Collectives Coming," Alipang said goodbye to his last dental patient of the day, and walked from his dental office to the house. He carried with him the latest edition of the Observer, which he had not yet had a chance to read. He could smell the supper that Esperanza was preparing: a version of pansit, thanks to a horseback peddler who had come through Sussex offering nice thin noodles which would work for the Filipino staple dish.

"I feel as if I'm on Luzon again," sighed Alipang as he came in through the mud room in back. "That's minus the gangs, the mosquitoes, and ten degrees Celsius of temperature." He did not add snakes to the minuses, because it happened that Wilson had killed a rattlesnake yesterday, and its flesh would become the meat component in that portion of the pansit eaten by Wilson and Alipang. Pork would be the meat in everyone else's pansit; but Alipang knew that Kim still would rather not be openly reminded that her husband and her eldest child ate snake meat.

After greeting his wife where she sat in the living room, Alipang gestured to her to stay where she was; whatever remained to do of table-setting, he would attend to. Kim's delivery was not very far off now, and Alipang was always trying to relieve her of doing any work. On this occasion, however, he saw that his children had already taken care of setup.

"SIX places?" he said into the air as he looked at the kitchen table. "What, have you heard from Big Brendan?"

"Yes, Papa," replied the younger Brendan. "He telephoned a couple hours ago, while you were pulling Sarah Fowler's tooth." Esperanza, who had taken the call, added, "And he thought he would be here in time for supper."

Alipang beamed at the thought of his one-time comrade meeting the kids. "All right, if everyone feels able to wait a bit, we'll give Big Brendan more time to reach us. I'll read an article from the paper to you. It's by Daffy Ford."

"Is it about Equalityball again?" asked Wilson, sounding ready to be bored. The first article contributed to the newspaper by Daffodil had been a bland, inoffensive report on the introduction of non-competitive sports into the Enclave.

"No, this one's about the big party we had with Grandma and Grandpa the other day." Alipang sat down beside Kim, kissed her once more, then began reading the article out loud:

FOUR YEARS OF ADJUSTMENT AND GROWTH FOR LEADING ENCLAVE COLLECTIVE

The Havens domestic collective in Wyoming Sector has often been brought to public attention, always in commendable ways. Now they have attracted the friendly attention of a Native American community, the Utes-- proving again that they are no strangers to diversity. Three generations of the Havens socio-genetic stream, led by Citizen Cecilia Havens of Casper and her partner Eric, welcomed these indigenous persons, along with more than a hundred other well-wishers."

"I wish Daffy could put that 'partner' terminology behind him," Kim griped.

"He does understand the difference," Kim's lawful husband assured her. "I think he was just trying not to get Miguel and Tilly in any trouble for printing un-mutual vocabulary-- the more so since Dad's their Associate Editor. But on the good side, you'll hear that he does bring in the word 'family' as he goes along." Then Alipang continued:

On the occasion of the Havens family celebrating the completion of four years of productive work and relationship cultivation in the Enclave, six Ute Nation members-- representing nearly half of the adult population of their tribe in all of Wyoming Sector --joined the festivities and performed their traditional Bear Dance. Two of the bear heads used for the dancers' costumes came from bears which had been terminated by Doctor Alipang Havens of Sussex in the course of his animal-control work for the Grange Association. Three men in the dance ensemble had only just gotten time off work to come to Casper, being employed on construction sites in the rapidly-developing new Yellowstone Sector. Martha Six-Clouds, choreographer of the presentation, explained to this correspondent that the Bear Dance is supposed to mark the coming of spring, the time when bears emerge from hibernation. But since not all of her dancers were available to perform earlier, their artistic collective had decided they might as well combine their slightly-delayed performing debut with paying respects to the Havens family.

One reason why the Utes are fond of the Havens family is because, amid the growing efforts to create a medical university for Enclave residents, Alipang and Kim Havens have strongly advocated the inclusion of Native American holistic medicine in the curriculum of such a--

Alipang's reading was interrupted by a heavy pounding on the front door. A manly voice, barely recognizable even to a dear friend after the years apart, shouted, "I'm from the Principal's office! I'm here to confiscate all knives from law-abiding students and give them to the worst marsh-crawlers I can find!"

"It's Big Brendan!" Alipang's younger son yelped excitedly, leaping to open the door. The door swung open, revealing one of the tallest men ever to come through it; the child announced to the visitor, "I'm _Little_ Brendan!"

Entering and shaking the boy's hand vigorously, the Marine Corps veteran grinned heartily. "Now I know why the guys call me Godfather-- because I am one!" An instant later, Alipang, the crown of whose head barely came up to Brendan Hyland's collarbone, virtually disappeared into his old friend's exuberant embrace. "A plane was going my way and allowed me to hitch a ride," Brendan added, as he bear-hugged his bear-hunter friend.

Kim spoke for her momentarily-smothered husband: "God bless you, Brendan, it's been too long! How's Jennifer?"

"She's fine; and we've got _five_ children by now! I'll show you all their pictures after we eat that food I'm smelling."

Now Alipang spoke for himself again: "Kim's carrying our fourth. Little Brendan introduced himself to you; this is Esperanza, or Essie; and this is Wilson. You picked the right evening to come; we've re-created the Pansit Paradise for you!"
 
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Remembering at the last minute how Brendan loved spicy foods, Kim dug out a jar of curry powder that she had picked up someplace in their first year as internal exiles, and gave it to their guest to use on his pansit. Alipang asked Brendan to say grace; and when the Marine veteran concluded by crossing himself and kissing his crucifix, Alipang was reminded of a long-unanswered question.

"You know something, Brendan? We never seem to get any _Catholics_ here in the Enclave! Now, I know that back in 2019, when things were starting to look bad, the _serious_ Catholics began looking at emigration; but that situation had not resolved itself by the time we got arrested and relocated. People we knew who were still inside America, outside the fence _and_ free to write to us, may have tried at times to tell us what was going on with American Catholics; but their letters were censored. Chilena and Melody would probably know something, and they're _inside_ the fence now; but there's just been too much _else_ going on, for me to think of asking them about that. So tell me now: where _did_ all the Catholics get to?"

Brendan was actually glad to be handed a conversation topic which didn't intrude on his secrets. "They went several ways, Al. Some did emigrate: almost all of these to Africa or Latin America, because only those regions have a strong Catholic presence now. Did you hear that the Vatican had to be transplanted to Nigeria?"

"We heard a little about that," said Kim.

"And the new Pope is from Brazil. All of continental Europe west of Poland is lost to us, re-invented as the Islamic Realm of Europe. At least my family, living in Onitsha, doesn't have to travel far to see the Pope celebrate Christmas Eve Mass. And Mother Church pays me a salary now."

"Not as a priest, obviously," remarked Kim.

"As a security guard and investigator. The Boko Haram Islamic terrorists faded away from Nigeria when the new Egyptian Caliphate withdrew support from them to mollify the African Union; but the Neo-Marxists took their place in the predator niche. Oh, Al, you'll find this amusing: last year, I led a patrol in a firefight against Neo-Marxist guerrillas who had penetrated dangerously close to the New Vatican; and an American woman reporter named Reltseotu Smith, covering the incident, _fabricated_ a smear story that MY team was committing racist genocide!"

"From Fairness Party zombies, that doesn't surprise me," Alipang told him. "But I don't know the woman you mentioned. Maybe Denise knows her."

"Who's Denise?"

"Ah, right, you would know her as Dynamo Earthquake. The Collective Network journalist who's reporting the Enclave beat now. Born Denise Heathcock; and whatever her reporting was like before, at present I have to admit she's giving us Biblicals pretty fair treatment."

Falling silent to eat some of his food, Brendan caught sight of the Wyoming Observer which lay now on a countertop. This provided him with more conversation material once he had gotten halfway through his pansit. "Speaking of journalism, I've had the chance to browse a couple of back issues of your Enclave newspaper. I understand its founder is a native of Cuba?" Brendan was concealing the fact that he really knew all about the career of Miguel De Soto _before_ Miguel had been exiled to Wyoming. Miguel had been a particularly courageous dissenter against the new wave of collectivism which had finally sunk the United States, and this made him a good guy in Brendan Hyland's tablet computer.

"Yes, Mister De Soto's Cuban.... and dark-skinned enough that even old Mrs. Lewiston at East High would have a hard time pigeonholing him as a _white_ supremacist."

"Ha! As for that, Mrs. Lewiston won't _ever_ make any phony racism charges anymore. I learned that she passed away, but that she repented and received Jesus as her Lord before she died."

"Wow, that's great! If she could come to repentance, maybe-- certain other hard cases also can."

"Eat your pansit, Al," Kim interjected.

With Alipang eating, Brendan continued, but not about Miguel De Soto. "The ladies piloting the plane I rode had that same edition of the paper with them. Even if your family doesn't _receive_ much news in the Enclave, it seems you get _into_ the news a lot. Count on the Havens family to be able to host a good, friendly party, even in the Enclave! Tell me, who's this girl Daffodil that wrote the article about your family?" Brendan hated to have to deceive his friends this way, but it was better not to admit that he already knew _plenty_ about the biological son of Josiah Redfern.

"Daffodil's a BOY, not a girl!" exclaimed Esperanza. "That'll tell you what's happened to names for children in America. And he used to be in school with a _girl_ named Thundercrash."

"Daffy's mother works for the State Department," added Wilson; "and from what we hear, she's been trying for all of his life to make him the sissy wimp of the millenium."

"But she wasn't able to stop him from liking girls," said Kim. "And the poor kid at least has good taste; he has a crush on Harmony."

 
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"So how do you come to know young Mr. Ford?" Brendan asked. "I do know that Al saved the kid from being killed by a mob over the winter; but what's the back story?" Thus Brendan came to be told about how Daffodil had made a splash as "Captain Vladimir Turgenev" in Trip Conklin's "Churchbusters of the Galaxy" live-action show. Also about his allergic reaction to Joy Nectar, his obtaining new musical instruments for The Church of the Faithful in Casper, his intercession for Barney Jamison, and other highlights.

"He sounds like a good kid, NO thanks to the Fairness Party," Brendan observed. Josiah would be fascinated to learn all this information about the boy; but because it had been by covert means that Daffodil had been identified as Josiah's genetic progeny, they could not yet admit to knowing the kinship. So Brendan changed the subject again.

"Say, I didn't finish telling you about my fellow Catholics. Now, you remember, back in our highschool days, there were already a lot of them being suckered in by so-called 'liberation' theology."

Alipang nodded. "Sure-- Marxism with a few rosaries tossed in."

"The ones who turned that way were no threat to the Party; so _they_ can still be found in the Diversity States. They conform to the policies of the Oneness Temples, and they _never_ get sent to the Enclave. Then you have the ones who _neither_ abandoned Mother Church, _nor_ escaped as the United States collapsed. Thanks to decades of accumulated grievances against Rome, some true and some fake, _those_ Catholics became favorite scapegoats for--well, for practically anything. Those who weren't killed outright, or so utterly brain-erased that you might as well call them dead, were sentenced to the concentration camps."

"Yeah, we only recently learned for sure that there _were_ such camps--based, I understand, on a F.E.M.A. program dating back before the Fairness Party got started. Released inmates from the camps have lately begun trickling into the Enclave, though I'm still not aware of any of those being Catholic."

"Probably aren't. The concentration-camp guards indulged in _very_ cruel fun with their Catholic prisoners, especially priests, nuns and monks." Brendan had learned this from the rescued prisoner Darcie Beale; but this was another fact he could not tell Alipang. "It left most of them unfit for the labor force--although international pressure is now prodding the Trevette regime to provide those victims with some rehab."

Alipang laughed grimly. "Even without Catholic victims, we're seeing _some_ people come in here needing a cure. Like one fellow called Gerbil, who was in a Self-Esteem Center, and who now has a building-repair job here in Sussex."

Brendan kept the talk shifting from topic to topic. Using his dataphone to project holograms of Jennifer Hyland and their children, as well as images of the New Vatican, he easily filled the first hour after supper with telling about how things were back in Nigeria (and this without even getting around to telling how his missing eye had been regenerated)--but naturally never mentioned the secret army. Then he recounted some of what had happened with his party in Detroit; became an appreciative audience for songs sung by the Havens children; and listened to anecdotes about the movie production going on here in Wyoming. Only after all this did he return, as if by chance, to finding out more about Daffodil Ford.

Having heard about Equalityball and such trifles, Brendan found another tangent to pounce on when it was mentioned that Daffodil was a supporter of the effort to provide higher professional education to young exiles. "Both of the men I'm travelling with will be interested in that business," he told Alipang. "Matti Siermaala is an inventor from Finland-- got out of there because he was tired of being a Dhimmi. The ultrasound scanner we're working with is all Matti's baby. Then there's Josiah Redfern, the medical technologist who assists Matti. Josiah's a veteran of that lesser, inferior armed force that's guilty of not being the Corps..."

"You mean he was in the Army?" asked Wilson.

"To put it in the vernacular, yes." Brendan was laying the service rivalry on thick, because he was nostalgic for the old days when the Army and the Marines traded boisterous insults. "But unlike some soldiers, at least Josiah knew which end of his weapon the bullets came out of, so he managed to wax a few terrorists in Iraq. After the war, he pursued a healthcare career; and that's the kind of work he does in Uganda, where he has his own wife and kids. I expect you'll be seeing Josiah more than once while we're in the Enclave. Al, I think you're going to like Josiah; he's almost as good with a knife as you were."

Immediately after uttering that last sentence, Brendan stood up sharply from the living-room chair where he had been sitting. "Knife! Senior moment! Hang me if I didn't almost forget what I _brought_ for you, Al! Merry Christmas, or something." Saying this, he reached into a pocket... and brought forth a genuine Filipino balisong knife, which he opened properly if not very dashingly.

"This is for you, Al, straight from the Philippines; made by a knife-maker named Yabut Ramirez, who used to be an anti-terrorist fighter himself. But that's another story." Closing the knife again, Brendan handed it to the appreciatively grinning Alipang. "The blade on this one's two centimeters longer than on your old balisong from Virginia. Use it in good health--or _don't_ use it, and _other_ people will be healthier."

Alipang let out a long breath, and pulled in another one. "God bless you, brother, I missed you SO much!"
 
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Since Ransom was now living with Lydia Reinhart's aunt and uncle, the room he had formerly used was available for Brendan to sleep in-- but not before he had regaled the Havens family with tales of his exploits in Afghanistan. He held back the most gruesome parts to tell after Esperanza and Little Brendan were put to bed.

The next morning, Brendan began to be introduced to local friends of his hosts, such as the Forresters, the Tomisaburos and the Rocheforts. But at the same time, a much more businesslike meeting was taking place at Old Natrona Airport on the west side of Casper. This was a meeting that Brendan would have loved to sit in on.

It started as the Undersecretary of Sustainable Energy was shown into the office of Texas Ranger Lieutenant Emilio Vasquez. Rising with Emilio to greet the triumvirate member was Federal Police Inspector Leroy Lincoln-- someone who had every right to visit the office of a fellow law-enforcement officer, but whose coming had not been told in advance to the Undersecretary.

"Thank you for coming, Undersecretary," said Leroy. "Please, have a seat. You're aware that this room is now surveillance-shielded, are you not?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Vasquez told me, soon after he assumed his duties here, that he was having the place upgraded. So by all means, tell me what I'm here for."

Emilio supplied an initial answer to the question: "To give Inspector Lincoln a more substantive understanding of his patrol beat. If you would kindly watch that image space--?" A large holographic projection was activated: a movable, zoomable three-dimensional map, which currently featured most of Wyoming Sector, with small adjoining portions of Nebraska and Yellowstone Sectors.

Leroy stood by one edge of the terrain simulation. "My police contingent, and the other contingent, were posted here in the first place for the sake of continuity in keeping the peace, once the Overseers were withdrawn. But so far, our work has all been on a save-kittens-from-trees level. You know that there never were any Ku Klux Quakers. The exiles simply _don't_ commit crimes. As for the true felons who have just recently begun to be relocated here, the reports I get say that all of _them_ have undergone massive personality suppression. So there's nobody for us to arrest.... at least, not among the _civilian_ population."

The veteran politician responded evasively: "Well, things _can_ change. You know the saying about a kilogram of prevention."

"Of course we do," Emilio told her. "But Leroy wondered, and I also wonder, exactly _what_ we're preventing."

Leroy continued: "Last year, the only sizeable police entity inside the Enclave was the Overseers and Pinkshirts under Nash Dockerty; of Transport Police, there were just enough to guard the trains and airfields. Now, you have significant numbers of Transport Police _and_ Texas Rangers _and_ Forest Rangers _and_ Commerce Inspectors _and_ us District Police, plus even the Grange Association acquiring a degree of policing power. When I first learned about the new arrangement for the Enclave, I was one of many cops who figured right off that Washington had in mind a plan for the watchers to watch each other--like the way the Soviet Union had multiple paramilitary bodies that balanced each other, so that no one faction would have all the guns and be able to stage a coup. But now that I've been in here for awhile, it seems as if that juggling act is the _entire_ justification for the new pluralism in Enclave law enforcement. Therefore, since our _whole_ mission is the prevention of new Nash Dockertys, we district cops have a right, and a need, to know _more_ than superficially what goes on in the five sectors."

"You say district cops, plural," the Undersecretary observed. "Why isn't the other Federal District contingent represented here?"

"That's my doing, ma'am," Emilio explained. "I still barely know the officers in the other group, whereas Inspector Lincoln has worked jointly with Texas Rangers before. We're starting small; but the others will be informed."

Leroy gestured at the terrain projection. "This has been programmed to display the locations of peculiar events which are known to have occurred in the Enclave. 'Peculiar' means anything from Deputy Commander Dockerty building his camouflaged air-defense base, on down to unusual behavior by farm livestock. We can superimpose indications of other data, such as what times airplanes have flown along this or that standard flight route, and see if anything correlates. But we need your knowledge to ensure _useful_ correlations. One thing I do know is that similar event analysis helped _you_ to verify that Dockerty was faking the Ku Klux Quaker incidents."

"True enough," she conceded. "But why ask _only_ me to help you?"

"Because Lieutenant Vasquez tells me that you're the most capable and trustworthy of the triumvirate members."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Inspector. Let's take our tour of Enclave history. And _subject_ to any need-to-know restrictions in my standing orders from the Party Presidium, I'll answer your questions as best I can."

The virtual tour took them all day; Rosa Cantu provided lunch for them after the first three hours. Emilio and Leroy busily recorded in their data devices all manner of clues and leads which, though not glaringly exposing any clear threats of treachery, would bear further investigation in the near future. One item, however, was to prove provocative of _immediate_ interest.

Emilio knew by way of Alipang about the two oddly-placed access hatches to the utility-service tunnels under the Sussex area. These two hatches were minimally marked by green dots on the 3-D map. With most of the research proceeding in chronological order, it was hours after lunch before _one_ particular overlay, out of all possible overlays, showed features coinciding with _both_ of those tunnel-hatch locations. This overlay was of things pertaining to new construction for the geothermal-plant project in the new Yellowstone Sector.

"Look at this!" Leroy exclaimed, pointing. "It says this line is where some new track is to be laid for trains running to and from the new sector, crossing what used to be part of the Enclave perimeter. See how it goes right by the hatch that was inside the culvert?"

"All right, zoom in, all the way in," said the Undersecretary, sounding as if she were encountering something unknown.

Extreme magnification revealed that the planned railroad track would pass within two meters of the hatch Victor Tomisaburo had fallen into. Emilio, who had had the scene of that incident described to him, declared, "I'm getting an idea about this! When they lay that track, the little motor-road will probably be demolished in the process; and then the tunnel hatch that _was_ inside a culvert, could end up in the open air."

Leroy followed up: "Which means that someone could come up out of the tunnel if the train was stopped there, and sneak on board--or go the opposite way, _leaving_ the train and vanishing from sight. It's an area with trees, so the satellites might miss seeing the person who did that. And if the overhead-surveillance monitors didn't realize that someone was sneaking, they wouldn't see cause to go into the penetration mode that would detect _underground_ motion."

They zoomed back out, and Emilio saw that a symbol for some structure was right on top of where Alipang had fallen through the _other_ unexpected hatchway. "Undersecretary, I know that there _isn't_ any building there now. Can you tell me what's _going_ to be constructed there that has bearing on Yellowstone development?"

"A communications relay station, like others you've seen," she replied. "It will help coordinate both air and rail traffic."

"All right. But in Texas, stations of that kind are hardly ever directly connected to major infrastructure-support utility-tunnel networks. Do any pre-existing radio-link stations in the Enclave have their own hatches into those tunnels?"

"Except for two right in Rapid City, no, they don't. And you have my word, in this I'm not required to hold anything back from you. I don't _know_ why unnecessary manholes were installed at those two spots _before_ anything of consequence was built."

"Then we have something out of the ordinary to investigate," announced Leroy.



 
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The top decision makers for the Pacific Federation, at their transnational capital in Micronesia, did not keep the scholarly secret agent in Australia waiting long to hear that he was indeed selected to speak to the Chinese.

As when Melody Vasquez had been made a secret courier for Mexico's President Andreas Garcia, so Bert Randall was implanted with knowledge which he himself would forget, until he met the man who was awaiting him. This was Aerospace Force General Yang Pang-Zhu, director of the Orbital Palace. That location provided Bert's cover story. Bert was openly known to have researched contemporary education techniques; and for his benefit, Beijing was trumping up an experiment in how micro-gravity might affect the mental concentration of schoolchildren. The Australian would spend more time talking with the Chinese experimenters than with General Yang; but he wouldn't _need_ to be with Yang for very long. The space station management would even have allowed Bert to bring his family, but Ma'at was too nervous about the idea of flying so high into outer space.

Not until the second day of his first-ever visit to the space station was Bert escorted to the secret conference room by a station safety guard named Nyunt Zeyar. Inside this electronically-shielded chamber, besides Yang Pang-Zhu himself, sat three other figures who seemed Chinese; but their exact appearance was obscured by personal blur-projectors, and they did not speak. Vee-Eye-Pees from Beijing, no doubt, Bert thought.

"Welcome to High Earth Orbit altitude, Mr. Randall," said the General. "Nyunt says you're getting around very well in low and zero gravity."

"Thank you, sir. Though never _here_ before, I've been in space before." His tone of voice altered. "But... now... as... programmed... my blocked memory is being awakened."

"Then have a seat, and kindly proceed," the General told him, trying not to sound excessively like issuing orders.

His voice normal again, Bert reported all of the raw intelligence data which had been entrusted to him. It took more than an hour to tell everything that Argentinian, Australian, Mexican, Fijian and Japanese agents had been able to gather about the theft of Pacific Federation weaponry information and weapon-making components, and their possible installation in Hawaii by persons up to no good. During this, the blur-cloaked persons occasionally stirred in place, as if perhaps communicating with each other in some way that was concealed from Bert.

When Bert was finished, Yang thanked him, and continued from there: "Before anything else, allow me to give you, for your government's benefit, the assurances of my government that we _don't_ suspect the Pacific Federation of plotting anything hostile to Greater China. You would never _actually_ open fire on our aircraft and spacecraft without strong provocation, and we don't provoke you. But we are not so completely certain that _India_ could not be involved in some plan to weaken us."

"INDIA??" Bert sat up straighter, so sharply that in this low gravity it almost lifted him out of his seat.

"Oh, I'm not saying they _are_ implicated, only that it's a _conceivable_ possibility. What makes it conceivable is the fact that, admittedly not the Indian _government,_ but a major Indian ocean-freight carrier, has been revealed by our own intelligence network as having secret business ties with the Triad gangs."

"Then you think that the rail-gun and sonic-projector components which are possibly being smuggled, could be travelling on board Indian seagoing vessels?"

"That's right. But without certainty on this question, even China can't altogether ignore United Nations opinion. Having our own Navy halt and search an Indian cargo ship would be received almost as an act of war. But _your_ Navy, Mr. Randall, enjoys very cordial relations with India's merchant marine. With tact, and the guarantee that no _Chinese_ military personnel would interfere with any Indian ship, your government should be able to persuade India to allow _your_ inspectors to board ships of theirs peacefully. After all, it's your own military establishment that's being stolen from; yet you would no more be accusing India's _administration_ of wrongdoing than China is accusing you."

"I'll see what I can do about that, sir."

"Good. We will provide a handy liaison for you. An Aerospace Force officer named Hsiao Luo-Sher is getting married today, in Hong Kong, to an American woman-- who calls herself Quasar, of all things. We'll have them go to Sydney for their honeymoon, to a hotel we're entering in your dataphone; you can 'happen' to meet them anytime after your Earthward flight lands in that city. Colonel Hsiao will have means of preserving secrecy when you talk with him about classified subjects."

"Any special signals I'm supposed to use to let him know that I _have_ classified stuff to discuss when I see him?"

"Yes, a simple enough code, which can be mixed with other words in a normal-seeming sentence: Three Nine Eight Four, Blue, Orange, Gray."

Bert repeated this back. He would remember it. Less than twenty minutes later, he was at the zero-gravity atrium, conversing again with the Chinese civilian experimenters.

 
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"In the multiplication table for any odd number, the multiples will alternate between being odd and even," declared Yael Meyerling. Lori Purdue repeated this after her.

At the time, these two women were clad in environment suits, walking on the exposed Lunar exterior, making routine maintenance checks on that portion of the Lunar Orchard's antenna array which was above the dust-blanketed surface. Here an adjustment, there a calibration, with the short logic-recitations in between as they walked from place to place. It was a sort of work that Lori had never expected to do in her spoiled-princess life, but she found it tolerable after all. She and Yael had by now been with the colony long enough to be qualified for this hard-vacuum job; and lately it seemed to be NO ONE BUT women who were assigned to such tasks. Yael had had to remind General Director Dong that she and Lori were both pregnant by Professor Chun; Dong had then promised that they would be relieved of in-vacuum duty when they began to grow too large for their environment suits.

"The number seven, for instance, has the multiples fourteen, twenty-one, twenty-eight, thirty-five, and so on," said Yael, to be echoed by Lori.

Lori's two fellow Americans, Faye and Luminessa, having somehow come to be immeasurably trusted and respected by everyone in the colony, had been persuading the leadership to entrust more work to female judgment; and yet Faye and Luminessa themselves never seemed to do any work anymore. Right now, in fact, Faye was intimately entertaining Mr. Dong, and Luminessa was with Mr. Yap. Najoud, the Baha'i girl from the Parthian Republic, was employed in the waste-processing work which had formerly been Yael and Lori's territory, and male workers who also had this assignment kept leaving it all to Najoud while they enjoyed their turns with Faye and Luminessa. But no outgoing radio transmissions gave anyone on Earth any hint that the colony's routines had changed.

"But there is no odd-even alternation in multiplication tables for even numbers; as long as an even number is multiplied by any WHOLE number, the answer will ALWAYS be even."

This kind of mathematical review was part of a mental-discipline exercise long privately practiced by former Mossad agent Yael Meyerling. She had been accustomed to doing it for years before she ever came to the Moon; it kept her centered, as the old cliche-phrase had it. The technique now enabled her to be the only person in the colony... who did NOT believe that Ms. Miller and Ms. Tigobo were superior beings and could do no wrong. This meant that, while outwardly pretending to be as mesmerized as the others, Yael could secretly attempt to deprogram someone else, and so gain an ally to help her thwart whatever it was that Faye and Luminessa were up to. It was logical for Yael to start with someone who had become her friend; and since Lori had needed intellectual sharpening anyway, no one would suspect that anything out of the ordinary was intended by the Israeli woman drilling the small-time beauty-queen in logic exercises.

"Consequently, however far one carries multiplication tables, there will always be three even-number answers for every one odd-number answer. Yet in the mathematical universe, there cannot actually BE three times as many even integers as odd integers.... The explanation is found in PRIME numbers. Except for the number two, all prime numbers are odd numbers, and these fill the odd-number gap."


Part of Yael's original espionage training had been in the skill of catching clues from a person's voice inflections WITHOUT the use of any special equipment. Both in the repetition of the math principles, and in all other talking that Lori did, Yael was fishing for signs that the younger woman was coming out of the mental fog.

And, encouragingly, Lori WAS beginning to sound more like the way she had sounded before Faye Miller and Luminessa Tigobo had suddenly transfigured themselves into unelected co-queens of the Moon.

Very soon, Yael hoped, Lori would be recovered enough that Yael could instruct her to help with a plan. Lori's part need not be complicated-- maybe just involving the other two Americans in a conversation as a distracter. One way or another, Yael and Lori would set up an opportunity for Yael suddenly to jab Faye and Luminessa with ampules of a truth drug. Being pregnant should actually be an advantage here; Faye and Luminessa were not likely to see expecting mothers as any threat. Once placed in a controllable state, those odd, non-violent saboteurs could be made to tell everyone else NOT to interfere with Yael, while the Mossad veteran interrogated them.

Then, as soon as she got answers that made sense, Yael would start calling Beijing on every possible comms channel, to make sure that at least SOME who heard her warning would NOT be among the possible Earthside traitors who might be part of the ambiguous plot. Hopefully, she would thus be able to put a stop to the takeover of the Lunar Orchard, BEFORE whoever had planned it could accomplish whatever it was they were trying to do.

 
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Chapter 102: Connecting More Dots

The Collective Network had been pleased with most of the new streamcasting talent being tried out on "The Glance;" but the management had no intention of retiring Denise Heathcock, alias Dynamo Earthquake. She was too popular with the vital demographic of man-hating women, even though Denise herself had never actually hated men just for being men.

So, following her visit to Detroit and before going back to the Enclave, she was sent on a few assignments of the sort which had formerly been commonplace for her. First after Detroit, she and Freya Vanaheim rode the mag-lev trains along the controlled traffic corridors of the Diversity States, down to western Kansas, where Denise was ordered to interview citizens who had witnessed the air battle in their sky last year. The theme was finding out whether the stresses felt by these proletarians had faded. The journalist was very clearly instructed _never_ to let the persons interviewed say anything negative about the Aztlano aviators who had tried to bomb them; all talk was to be directed along lines of whether Aztlanophobic racism was continuing to be an issue in the Great Plains Federal District.

A suggestion by Denise that she could add to this material an interview with Federal Police Inspector Lincoln, who had witnessed the air attack, was coldly slapped down. After all, Inspector Lincoln had been so troublesome as to make sure it was publicly known that the Aztlanos had been trying to kill Diversity States civilians in residential areas.

Wrapping up her interviews in Kansas, she did a series of puff-pieces about such subjects as the nation's schools making ready for a new season of Aquatic Oneness. For input from schools and other institutions especially distant from her, she interviewed some school principals and equivalent supervisors by talking to their holographic projections. Getting all these done in a single day, she took Freya and visited that outer edge of Wyoming which separated the Western Enclave from the People's Aztec-Maoist Republic of Aztlan.

At an electrical-power control center west of Cheyenne, Denise interviewed two Energy Department workers who lived together and worked together here. She and they had some freedom of wording, but it was predetermined what the general substance of the conversation must be.

"Hello again, citizens, the collective is all! I'm Denise Heathcock, and today I'm at a distribution point of the Great Plains power grid, speaking with Citizen Fawn Seavers and Citizen Odette Galloway, both of whom have important jobs directing and routing energy into three worlds, as it were."

"It's great to meet you, Citizen--can I still call you Citizen Earthquake?" said Fawn, the fairer-haired of the two electrical technicians.

"Of course. Reality flows like electricity." Denise had not lost the knack for tossing in empty phrases which _sounded_ as if they meant something.

"Three worlds is a good way to put it," Fawn continued. "The regular district population is naturally affected by our work here; that's one component of our job. Electricity goes across the border to our progressive sisters and brothers in Aztlan, as reparation for all the generations of Anglo-American bigotry. And another share of electricity goes the opposite direction, across the Enclave perimeter to support the Biblicals on the collective farms."

Odette now made her contribution, sounding far from enthusiastic: "Yes, it gives us profound satisfaction to know that the wind farms of America are helping to sustain life in the Enclave, so that God-fascists who used to live by parasitism as fat cats in imperialistic business corporations can return to the soil and make an honest living in agriculture under the Party's guidance."

Denise preferred to let Fawn and Odette do as much of the talking as possible. She still was trying not to utter any direct lies with her own mouth; and it was a _whopping_ lie to say that the power grid _outside_ the Enclave was sending power _into_ the Enclave. The government still wanted to keep the public thinking that "green power" was _entirely_ meeting their energy needs. This was why the significance of the late Nash Dockerty's treason inside the Enclave had been kept obscure. And of course, the new movie Sectors of the Heart was aimed at reinforcing the government-fostered belief that peasant-like agrarian living was what _everything_ in the Enclave was about.

The fabricated and vacuous interview droned on. Before the end, Odette Galloway took the chance of saying something unscripted; but it contained nothing outrageous. "Citizen Heathcock, you surely remember that Native American agricultural worker, Henry Spafford, who was at the scene of the plane crash last July?"

"Yes, he has a cohabitant partner now, a Citizen Huldah Rosenbaum. By all accounts, they're very happy." Denise had come far enough along spiritually, that she _would_ have identified Huldah as a _wife_ to Henry if not for the expectations of her boss.

"I was acquainted slightly with Henry Spafford when I had a job handling the power flow inside the perimeter. I once helped him to acquire, um, a high-quality tool for his Grange work, and later got a nice thank-you note from him. If you see him when you're back inside the Enclave, would you please tell him that I said I'm _really_ glad that things are good for him?"

"I promise, I'll tell him." Denise already knew about Henry having saved Odette's life last autumn, so she had no doubt that Odette's good wishes for the Apache man were sincere. It would feel nice, when Denise could speak with Henry, to be telling the _truth_ to somebody.

 
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The month of May in the year 2026 was a "blue moon" month, meaning that two full-moon nights were squeezed into it, at the beginning and the very end of the month. The second full-moon night, which was Sunday the 31st, was to become a major cultural event at Rapid City's old civic center: the Blue Moon Stun-Jazz Concert.

Daffodil Ford was the organizer who was making this happen. Like Equalityball, stun jazz was an interest which exiles could partake of _without_ violating their consciences. Thanks to his gentle, sincere temperament, the young man had been enjoying assistance with his "internal diplomacy" from various quarters, including the Wyoming Observer-- though no help was coming anymore from Samantha Ford, the ambassador turned erotic movie star. Daffodil scarcely saw anything of his mother these days, nor did he _want_ to see her the way holographic cameras were seeing her now. But starting with the two young female musicians in Casper for whom he had obtained new instruments, Daffodil had managed, between Equalityball events, to assemble a network of internal exiles who had musical talent. Of those who could actually get away from regular work to participate in the current project, most were familiar with basic jazz, and it wasn't so hard to get them experimenting with the sudden changes that made it _stun_ jazz.

Exactly one musician joined the ensemble who _wasn't_ an exile: Frigate Vandermarck, the woman who was a crew member for Sectors of the Heart. Her part of the moviemaking work had been completed just in time so that (obtaining the approval of Isadora Cruller) she could join the rehearsals which Daffodil had arranged. An old hangar at Ellsworth had been made available for this purpose by Captain Sally Brewster, head of the Transport Police for the Enclave. Frigate owned and played a tenor saxophone, and found the young concert producer ecstatic to have her, as he was short on wind instruments. Frigate was teamed up with the trombonist and the clarinetist from Abraham Zondei's church, and with a trumpeter named Roger who had been found in Nebraska Sector. The other musicians --meaning five acoustic guitarists, an upright-bass player, and plenty of singers and percussionists-- were stimulated to better progress on their own parts by the coming together of their horn section.

The extremely valuable bass player, an attractive middle-aged lady named Tamara, suggested to Daffodil that they open the concert with the old pop song "Blue Moon," in keeping with the blue-moon evening on which they would perform. "Besides," she told him, "it'll give all our vocalists a share in the action right at the start, before we get into the true jazz numbers of which some will be instrumentals." Daffodil was glad to accept her guidance-- reflecting that even _this_ much help from a near-stranger was more like mothering than what his actual mother had been accustomed to doing.

Martina Caldwell, speaking for Denise Heathcock, promised Daffodil that his concert would be videocorded in full: in holographic format for showing outside the Enclave, and in analog video, to be shown to exiles the same way as In The Enclave Today was shown. When Denise returned on the day before the concert, she confirmed Martina's promise, and indeed contacted Neutron Invincible to ensure that excerpts from the concert could be played on "The Glance."

This event being an outreach to the exile community, admission to the concert was free for as many as could get there; and for sure, the community response was much more favorable than it had been for the "Churchbusters of the Galaxy" live-action play. Daffodil found occasion to speak with Trip Conklin, and soothed that writer's feelings by saying, "Now I'm seeing benefit from the way that _you_ made me a celebrity."

"I knew you had the makings of a star," Mr. Conklin replied to this. "Your name is an audience draw already."

Daffodil was relieved to know that persons not present at the civic center _would_ be able to see and hear the concert later. This particularly meant Alipang Havens and his household in Sussex; Kim Havens was greatly depleted by her almost-concluded pregnancy, and Alipang was not about to leave her side even though he liked Daffodil very much. Cecilia Havens was now in Sussex also, to help look after her daughter-in-law, and would soon be joined by Melody Vasquez. But many others who had become known to the youth _were_ able to be at the Blue Moon Concert, including Chilena and her family. Chilena's daughter Cecilia Ruth had a date of sorts, though the circumstances made for an overkill of chaperoning: Gustave Rochefort, to whom Wilson had introduced his favorite cousin. At least Cecilia Ruth would be able to say she had been to a concert with a boy who _didn't_ seem robbed of all self-confidence like boys outside the fence.

Chilena was to give a speech of greeting to the crowd, before Daffodil introduced the musicians and commenced the program. Her celebrity status would reflect prestige on Daffodil's efforts; and without taking anything away from the concert's own importance, could become a publicity tie-in with the movie that Chilena and Dan had just been shooting in the Enclave. (As for that, one girl guitarist in the stun-jazz ensemble had also played in the bluegrass ensemble that recorded Tommy Salisbury's ending-credits song: another tie-in with exile talent.)

The front row of seats in the auditorium was assigned to dignitaries. All three triumvirate members chose to attend, making Daffodil at once proud and nervous. Other persons of importance were also seated there, such as Mark Terrell and Dana Pickering in their capacity as Forest Rangers, Transport Police Captain Brewster, Saul O'Keefe representing the Texas Rangers, the Salisburys of course... and Yang Sung-Kuo with his wife and their three daughters.

But Daffodil had been empowered to reserve seats in the second row. Included among his own chosen guests were Barney and Ursula Jamison; Miguel and Tilly De Soto; Avery Glass with his daughter Lenore; Cassie Magruder the airship flier; Moonrose Quickpace and Bailey Melville, sitting at opposite ends from each other; and, as a supreme delight, Harmony Havens, accompanied by her father Eric. Terrance would also have come, but couldn't get away from Gaia's Guts.

Quietly taking seats two rows behind Eric Havens were Josiah Redfern and Matti Siermaala.

"I'm sure I'll enjoy this," Josiah told his Finnish comrade, not needing to say out loud that witnessing _any_ legitimate achievement of his long-lost son would be a thrill. "But I'm still sad that no one in this country observes Memorial Day anymore."

"God forgets no one," replied Matti, "including your fallen Army friend Pablo Alvarez."

 
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Even with the Department of Indoctrination being no longer seated in the triumvirate, entertainments were still technically the territory of that Cabinet Department. Accordingly, Pinkshirt Fidel North was allowed to be prelude to the prelude, uttering words few enough to be said in a single breath: "Welcome, citizens! The collective is all! Permit me now to introduce the actress-- Chilena Salisbury!"

The applause was energized in large part by the fact that the exiles, many of whom knew very little about the Salisburys, knew much more about the exploits of Alipang Havens, whom they knew to be the brother of this movie star. Сhilena came to center stage in the awareness that this was merely the latest walk on the high-visibility tightrope she and Dan had had to tread for years now.

"Thank you, Fidel North! And thank you, Undersecretaries and everyone joining us tonight, for caring to witness the artistic fruit borne by a work of social cooperation! Such cooperation has been seen on the sets of our new movie, Sectors of the Heart, in which a number of real-life Enclave citizens acted on camera; but now the cooperation has led to an occasion when Enclave people can be the _main_ performers. The musical skill needed for a concert was here to be found among the residents of the Western Enclave; but as the local population has to spend most of its energy on practical necessities, tonight's event could not have taken place if someone with imagination and the will to achieve had not labored to _create_ the opportunity. Everyone who will be performing tonight is grateful to the young man who, as of now, has moved from being an actor and an athletic coach, to being a producer!

"What is about to occur on this stage will be proof that residents of the Enclave possess not only a steady work ethic in their normal occupations, but also the gifts of artists and intellectuals. It is my hope that, for the greater good of the nation, these people --my own relatives among them-- will in the future be given _further_ opportunities to excel constructively. The Fairness Party correctly declares that we must always think of the future. It is for the _sake_ of the future that I go on record as hoping that the Enclave will soon be authorized to reactivate one or more of the institutions of higher learning which existed in this region before. They have potential teachers, and gifted students; I hope that those gifts and that potential will be allowed to evolve productively.

"But these things, of course, come step by step. I'm excited to see _this_ step happening. So I now yield the stage to... MISTER DAFFODIL FORD of the Department of State."

As Daffodil came forth to his own round of applause, Chilena made her way back to her seat. The hug Dan gave her, she could interpret as his stamp of approval for her grabbing the chance to put in a word for the exiles' hope of starting their own medical university.

"Thank you, thank you," Daffodil began; being applauded and cheered AS A DISTINCT INDIVIDUAL was not a frequent experience for him. "The collective is all... yet it is made up of its components. I, personally, would not have been _alive_ to produce tonight's program, if not for the brave action of the brother of Chilena Salisbury. I refer to Alipang Havens, whose father and an additional sister are present with us this evening. Alipang is preoccupied right now with the well-being of his domestic partner, and I wish only the best for them." Daffodil would rather have called Kim Alipang's WIFE; but like Chilena (and like Denise Heathcock), he knew he must proceed cautiously, and not forfeit what had been gained so far.

"You have come tonight to hear the first stun-jazz concert ever staged inside the Western Enclave since the Enclave was first organized. Note, though, that as a diplomat in training, I have learned that _adaptability_ is an indispensible virtue. The _majority_ of tunes you will hear are in fact stun jazz numbers; but as an accommodation to the limited available time that our musicians had for preparation, some allowance was made for what songs they already knew. For this reason, and also in consideration of the selection of instruments we have, a few songs on the schedule will be from the rhythm-and-blues genre, in arrangements which allow for good utilization of the excellent vocalists who have joined us."

In the audience, Professor Siermaala whispered to Corporal Redfern, "That young fellow sounds marvellously intelligent."

"An eagle raised among turkeys," Josiah whispered back.

The teenage producer continued: "Jazz singing, I mean of the period _after_ Dixieland jazz, traditionally emphasizes the individual singer. But with so many fine singers participating, we could not neglect to include songs in the show that would let them display their skill in three-part harmony. After all... HARMONY makes the world better. So sit back, friends, and let us begin!"

As Harmony Havens was grasping the fact that yes, he HAD meant her, Daffodil withdrew from the stage. Seconds later, a male bass vocal signalled the start of the song "Blue Moon."
 
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After "Blue Moon" stimulated the audience, the ensemble's second number displayed the authentic "stun" style. The brass and reed instruments began playing a jazz tune from about thirty years back, with two men on conga drums providing rhythm. Everyone else remained silent at first. After playing nine measures, the original combination stopped sharply, and everyone else came in without missing a beat: that is, the stringed instruments, the rest of the percussion, and the singers doing wordless bee-bop vocals. These did the rest of the song--except the last five measures, for which the horn section and the congas replaced them in turn.

This was what leading stun-jazz artists called a "source-change stun." It served to imprint the "stun" concept on the minds of spectators not familiar with the style. All other true jazz numbers in the show, apart from one more near the end, would have "energy stuns"-- meaning that the obligatory sharp change during a song would consist in changing the volume or the tempo. As announced, some songs were purely instrumental, but overall the singers had enough to do.

The listeners in the civic center, deprived of large-scale entertainments for months or years depending on how long they'd been exiles, were attentive and quiet. One of the few instances of talking in the seats, and this was very quiet, was when Eric Havens asked his youngest daughter a question between two numbers.

"If you were still unattached, say, three years from now; if a certain boy by then had a proven commitment to Jesus, _and_ still felt about you as he does now; and if no severe obstacles were blocking the possibility... would you consider agreeing to marry him?"

Harmony was so prompt about answering, that Eric had to suppose this was a possibility she had already thought of, if only superficially. "It's conceivable. I don't have sugary dreams about him, nor get any chills when I see him; but he's nice, and so far I sure don't have any guy _better_ than he showing any interest. Why, do you and Mom think it would be to my advantage if I did?"

"I can't say whether it would make you more safe or less. But the boy's in a sufficiently privileged social position that, in time, he might be able to _demand_ that you marry him--though if he did so, it would be in the belief that you would be happy with his treatment of you. His political star is rising for sure at this point. So unless you do think it could be tolerable to be married to him, you need to be more careful about _not_ encouraging him."

All through the concert, Josiah's mind was churning. He knew of the case of Ma'at Randall, who had been allowed to leave the Enclave because she was to be transported out of America altogether. If it were possible to get some sort of custody of Daffodil Ford, surely an evacuation to Uganda would be as persuasive to the Fairness Party as an evacuation to Australia had been. Only, this young man was unlikely to _want_ to leave the D.S.A. unless he knew it was to go live in a loving family of his own. And the merciless fact remained that it had been classified methods which made it _possible_ for Josiah to know that he was Daffodil's genetic father. So unless a way appeared by which he could reveal himself _without_ compromising intel resources, Josiah could not speak the truth to any uncleared person.

Then again, if Daffodil was being groomed for the _diplomatic_ service, he could perhaps be prevailed upon to request an assignment in Uganda. Josiah would not allow himself to be resigned that _nothing_ could be done. Once the boy met Melody Redfern, Isaiah, Elijah, Holly and Alyssa, he was bound to love their company....

The final scheduled number ended, to be followed by a song held in reserve when the delighted crowd pleaded for an encore. After that, the musicians, including one lady singer who had doubled as a conductor, took their bows, then beckoned their producer onto the stage again to receive his own standing ovation. Chilena, this time accompanied by her husband, then returned to the stage to congratulate everyone, including the production crew. The woman called Frigate began behaving flirtatiously toward Dan, playing upon the fact that he had spoken to her a few times when they had been working on the movie. But Chilena stayed calm, serenely trusting in Dan to fend Frigate off tactfully.

In the seats, Professor Siermaala rose to his feet. "Come on, Josiah; there's no law against us total strangers from overseas introducing ourselves to the young concert producer."

 
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Eric Havens and his daughter Harmony joined the happy crowd mingling with the equally happy musicians. Harmony hugged her sister Chilena and her brother-in-law Dan immediately before giving Daffodil an exactly equal hug; she figured that this was the way to avoid romantic encouragement without snubbing the good-hearted boy. Eric, meanwhile, noticed that the Undersecretaries of Distribution and Sustainable Energy were both offering their compliments to Daffodil's ensemble. The Undersecretary of Eco-Sensitive Agriculture, however, seemed to be with someone: the same good-looking woman who had been with her at the Crazy Woman Creek Grange Hall on Thanksgiving Day. Those two hurried off to someplace else.

When Eric had shaken Daffodil's hand and stepped back, it was just in time for him to encounter two unfamiliar white men who were joining the throng of well-wishers. One was gray-haired, probably near to Eric's own age; the other, not very tall but strongly built, was blond-haired, looking to be forty or so. The older man's eyes focussed on Eric. "Say, aren't you the dentist, father of that movie star there?"

"Yes, and the father of another four who are also stars to my wife and me. Eric Havens. I hear your accent; might you and this gentleman be the ones who came from overseas with Alipang's friend Brendan Hyland?"

"That's correct, Doctor Havens. I'm Professor Matti Siemaala, and this preoccupied man is Josiah Redfern. Forgive Josiah, he has plenty on his mind. He, um, he has about as many children as you do."

Nudged by Matti, Josiah remembered his manners, and also shook Eric's hand. "I'm sorry, sir, it's like the Professor said, I do have plenty to think about. From what I've heard about you and Mrs. Havens, you've had more experience than you wanted in being kept apart from relatives. I'm glad that your family's together now."

"Thank you," responded Eric. "We'll probably talk again soon; then I can ask about possible dental applications of that ultrasound scanner you brought with you."

Scarcely a quarter of a minute later, though it seemed much longer to the Iraqi Freedom veteran, Josiah Redfern was standing face to face with a young man whose last name _should_ also have been Redfern. Only in this instant of eyes meeting did the unacknowledged father think fleetingly: Daffodil Redfern-- a mighty botanical name. But no, his _first_ name would be different if he were with Melody and me. Reaching for another handshake, he said aloud, "That was a blast! You could go far as a producer... maybe international."

Lord bless us, the boy _does_ look a lot like me, only taller and thinner. Does he see the resemblance? But no sign of recognition showed in Daffodil's face or voice as he replied:

"Thank you, sir. My training's to be a diplomat, but who says the arts can't serve diplomatic purposes? Did I hear it said that you're one of the outside medical technologists?"

"That's right;" and Josiah introduced Matti to the boy. Matti, for his part, had conceived an idea that might help guide events in a desirable direction.

"My own bit of diplomacy," the scientist informed Daffodil, "entails reminding the world that Finland, before it was annexed by the European Caliphate, produced many inventors. We even contributed to the evolution of cellphone technology, up to today's dataphones."

Daffodil smiled. "That's right; my mother used to have a Finnish-designed Nokia phone, six or seven years ago. Here's mine;" and he displayed it.

"I like to compare technical developments from country to country," said Matti. "For instance, how much DNA-reading capability does your model have?" (Josiah, greatly though he wanted to talk further with his son, kept quiet, sensing that Matti was up to something.)

"Well, when set on gene-spotting mode, it can read the DNA of anyone within a radius of 1.8 meters of the phone. It can store up to three thousand genetic identities."

"Not bad, though mine can store four thousand. Can yours read more than one person at a time within its detection radius?"

"Yes, it can; and it can at any time be ordered to cross-correlate all stored identities, to check if any two of them show signs of a close family connection."

"How interesting," Josiah interjected, not very loudly. But Daffodil did not at this time do a DNA scan of Matti or Josiah; and it would have been too pushy, on such a barely-begun acquaintance, to _suggest_ that the boy do it. Maybe there would be another occasion later.

Josiah managed to get in a little more small talk, in which each mentioned what other countries he had been in. Then, lest he create suspicion by monopolizing the hero of the evening, Josiah had to allow his son to turn away and speak with other people. But the frustrated father was about to receive unexpected attention from someone else. There had just been time for him to congratulate three of the jazz musicians... when an excited female voice burst upon him from the side. It was from his left side, where he had his good ear.

As far as he could remember, Josiah had never heard the voice of Samantha Ford, his co-parent of Daffodil. But for a heart-jolting instant, he believed that it had to be she-- that the Marxist bimbo, known to be a professional absentee mother, had of all times chosen tonight to be near Daffodil again. Samantha possibly did know the name and face of the quasi-mate she had never met; this, in that instant before turning toward the voice, made it logical to believe that Samantha _was_ the woman he heard exclaiming:

"YOU! You're him! You're the man! It's you!"

 
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Copperfox said:
Scarcely a quarter of a minute later, though it seemed much longer to the Iraqi Freedom veteran, Josiah Redfern was standing face to face with a young man whose last name _should_ also have been Redfern. Only in this instant of eyes meeting did the unacknowledged father think fleetingly: Daffodil Redfern-- a mghty botanical name. But no, his _first_ name would be different if he were with Melody and me.
Click to expand...

Amen. And the sooner, the better.
 
Josiah, now turning to face the intruding voice, was not the only person to have heard it. Also looking were Matti, Daffodil, Harmony, Eric, and several other bystanders. All of them beheld, not the striking and shapely Samantha Ford, but the short-haired, heavy and lumpish-looking Denise Heathcock. She had made it to the civic center in time to watch the whole concert from a control room, but had noticed the sturdy fair-haired war veteran only after coming into the auditorium to mix with the musicians.

Josiah recognized her as Dynamo Earthquake, the streamcast reporter for whom his whole family had prayed; but he knew of no reason why she, from her side, would show special recognition of him. "Citizen Earthquake, right? Have we met?"

"That gets an unusual answer," the hefty woman replied. "Could we please step a little away from the crowd?"

Josiah glanced at his son, who seemed also to be wondering why Josiah was of interest to the reporter. Daffodil, being after a fashion accustomed to leadership, unthinkingly gestured for Josiah to go ahead and talk with Denise, as if Josiah needed his permission. Asking Matti to wait around, Josiah followed the big woman through a door and into a corridor.

Looking left and right, she moved closer to Josiah and said, "Any authorities watching you can hear what you and I say in any case; but being in the Enclave, they're much less likely to object actively than if we had this conversation in a big city, especially since we're not stirring others up."

"And exactly what conversation are we having?"

Denise took a deep breath. "One in which I ask you: do you have a black-haired wife, two black-haired sons, and two blonde-haired daughters?"

"Yes, I have. And this interests you because--?"

"Because... I saw all of you in a dream. Saw your faces very clearly. All six of you were looking down at me from the top of a high wall. There was also another woman there, who was missing two fingers from her left hand. Would that be someone you know?"

"If she was African, she could be. At the hospital in Uganda where I work, I've met two or three women with injuries like that."

"No, the additional woman in my dream was white, maybe ten years younger than you, with medium-brown hair."

"Nobody I know," said Josiah. "But if you saw us in a dream, it could very well have been on, or shortly after, the evening when my family prayed for you."

"YES!" Denise exclaimed. "I know you prayed, because in the dream ALL of you, including the other woman, were asking God to forgive me for the wrong I've done. And what's more: I've met the brown-haired woman, and SHE told me that she had prayed for me! Her name is Summer Rand."

Josiah relaxed and smiled. "Maybe someday my wife and I will get to meet that woman. As for the prayer itself, enough time has passed since then that God's had plenty of opportunity to work on it. You're a reporter; can you report anything to me?"

"I sure can!" To Josiah's considerable surprise, Denise flung her arms around him, kissing his cheek before letting go. "Helped by what Citizen Rand and some others have told me, I've come to realize that God exists! And I don't mean the Inexpressible Galactic Everything-ness; I mean YOUR God!"

Josiah clasped her hands; they were strong hands, though not stronger than his own. "Bless you, that's epic! But...what about your career? What about the Collective Network and the Department of Indoctrination?"

"Well, they know there's been SOME change in my world-view. No adverse reaction so far. It may have helped things that I took up working in the Enclave."

"Then I'll pray that God shows you just HOW open He wants you to be, and how soon."

"Thank you;" and she hugged him again, longer than before, but without giving Josiah any sense that there was any inappropriate intent. "I'd like to start going to one of the churches they have here; but I've been afraid to take that much of a step away from conformity."

"My feeling is that you could get away with it. Your listening to sermons wouldn't mean that you were preaching any. Now, I need to get back to my friend Matti-- and understand, I mean my FRIEND Matti, not anything more politically-correct than that. But you could come with us to the airport lodging area, have a bite to eat, and talk more about your spiritual condition."

"Could I? Oh, thank you, yes, I do want to talk more!"

Josiah would have preferred to speak longer with his son; but this change of course might be for the best, concealing from snoopers the truth about just how important Daffodil Ford was in Josiah's mind.

 
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Persons who come to a saving faith in Jesus Christ are not always able to pinpoint the moment in time when they consciously responded to the Holy Spirit's call; but at least they can eventually say with assurance, "Yes, I believe this." After a good long gospel-centered conversation with Josiah Redfern, to which Matti Siermaala made some contributions as well, Denise Heathcock went to the lodgings she shared with Freya the camerawoman... completely _positive_ that she had become a Christian.

One reason she could be sure, was because she was less terrified of being challenged on the subject. So as a spiritual baby step, she decided to let a flicker of her new inner light break out in Freya's direction.

"Freya, you and I have seen a lot of Biblicals in the years since the Fairness Revolution. Have you _ever_ encountered even _one_ of them who was _actually_ the sort of monster we've been trained to describe them as?"

The younger woman paused for thought, and soon took on a lightbulb-over-the-head expression. "You know what? I've seen Biblicals having the same faults other people have; but now that I think of it, no, I've _never_ seen even one of them trying to murder people for being different, or any of that sort of thing. I know that most of the people in the Texan air detachment are Biblicals; but as far as I can tell, they _don't_ persecute the ones in their group who aren't."

"My observations are the same. So tell me, why _does_ the Party put such tight restrictions on Biblicals, when they don't put _any_ on Hindus or Buddhists, and only mild ones on Muslims?"

Now Freya's look became guarded. "It isn't for me to question the wisdom of the Party Presidium."

Denise patted her helper's shoulder. "One thing you may not have noticed is that once people _are_ placed in the Enclave, they _can_ speak much more freely than they could while outside the fence. This must mean that, whatever the official position is, our leaders _really_ know that the internal exiles are valuable. You saw how hard the ones at Earth's Treasures worked when we were there; they really do have a work ethic. And although we're not allowed to transmit public reports about the energy-industry assets inside the Enclave, I have no doubt that Biblicals do well at whatever jobs they hold there."

"Maybe the answer's utterly simple," Freya offered: "the Biblicals are harmless as long as the mechanisms of governmental power are kept out of their reach. So as long as this precaution is taken, there's no need to be too harsh with them."

Denise didn't remark on this. She knew that she knew more than Freya did about the first months of the Trevette regime, during which Christians and Jews had been murdered in the tens of thousands, with others being consigned to those concentration camps which only lately had been abolished. Going on a tangent instead, she told Freya: "Tomorrow I want to go talk to some of the Native American Biblicals..."

= = = = = = = = = = = = =

Texas Ranger Fu Hai-Sheng fortuitously turned up the next morning. He and a paramedic working for the Energy Department arrived in the medevac helicopter which the Ranger detachment had inherited. They were bringing a uranium miner badly injured in an accident, for whom the Wyoming Sector Energy Consultant had authorized life-saving surgery at Sioux San Hospital. Once Ranger Fu and the paramedic had attended to this business, they were amenable to giving the two cyber-journalists a ride to the Crazy Woman Creek area.

"I'd like to stay and watch the fireworks at Sioux San," remarked Fu. "Since the Distribution Department gained its triumvirate seat, it's asserted its claim to control health care. But the Energy Department wasn't going to let one of its workers die while waiting for the Distribution Undersecretary to get off her butt and authorize the airlift; so we Rangers were called in for the evac."

The flying ambulance deposited Denise and Freya within fifty meters of the cabin of Jay and Gloria Spafford--beside which, of course, was the recently-enlarged cabin used now by Henry, Huldah, Yitzhak and Yakov. The first family members to see and greet the visitors were Leah, Kitty and Bobbie, Jay and Gloria's daughters, who were looking after the sheep which technically belonged to their big brother and his wife. Denise improvised an interview with the young Apache girls on the spot, having them talk mostly about their tribal heritage; this could be used later on The Glance, and maybe also on In The Enclave Today. Before the interview was finished, the presence of the newswomen drew the attention of Henry and Huldah, who had been busy with something involving their horses.

"Hello, can I help you?" said Henry, coming up.

"We're going to be on television, like you and Huldah both've been," Leah declared.

"May I do a couple more questions?" Denise asked. "Then I really want to talk to you two"--meaning Henry and Huldah. Henry nodded, and the children's interview got wrapped up.

"Sounded harmless enough, that did," said Huldah. "Now, for us grownups what have you got?"

"Your own interview," Freya volunteered. "Maybe at those wooden benches beside your cabin. Did you make those, Citizen Spafford?"

"Thanks to unisex terms of address, practically _everybody_ here is Citizen Spafford; we should be so lucky as only to need one Spafford's worth of food," Huldah wisecracked. "But the benches, my father-in-law Jay Spafford made." Shortly, then, the four adults had left the girls in command of the sheep, and had gone to the benches to set up a second interview.

"This will be only for the in-Enclave show," Denise assured them. "So you can speak your minds --exactly the way Huldah spoke her mind when Martina questioned her."

From there, Denise allowed the young couple plenty of latitude in the direction their conversation took. Without admitting it, the newly-confirmed Christian woman was really out to get some spiritual feeding for herself. She eagerly absorbed every bit of Christian insight uttered by the Apache Christian husband and the Messianic Jewish wife. The one speech which engraved itself on her mind most of all was one from Henry:

"My ancestor, the Apache brave Quicker-Than-Snake, became willing to follow Jesus because he realized that Jesus _wasn't_ only for white men. Jesus knows every language, understands every career and occupation, and is familiar with every environment. Once Quicker-Than-Snake had been baptized, he began explaining to other Apaches what he had found. According to my family history, his favorite illustration was about water. He would say that if water was clean enough to drink, it didn't matter what shape or color was the vessel you drank it _from;_ and likewise, if the gospel of Jesus was true in itself, its truth was not changed by the color of the man who spoke it. Yes, ladies, he _did_ say 'man,' not 'person;' but the applicability for women was obvious."

Before parting company, Denise did remember to repeat to Henry the inoffensive message of goodwill from Odette Galloway. And Huldah, who already knew about Odette, showed no jealousy.
 
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