The First Love Of Alipang Havens

Chapter 107: They Who Are Sick Need The Physician

The evening on which Daffodil had consulted with Kim Havens was the evening on which Matti Siermaala's party tried to cover all possible bases in preparing to begin the ultrasonic therapy for Miguel. With Tilly De Soto privy to every step, they worked closely with the woman who was chief of internal medicine at Sioux San, the counterpart of Hassan Tamir whom they had met in Detroit. Every contingency was discussed, and every relevant resource inventoried, including medications which would help Miguel's white blood cells to dispose of the killed cancer cells.

Martina Caldwell came by, and used her own dataphone to record a short interview about the preparations with the Professor; this would be worked into a coming installment of In The Enclave Today. In her capacity as a Oneness Priestess, she offered a prayer to Mother Universe to bring good karma to the patient and grant him greater oneness with the collective. When she left, Miguel shook with his lung-less version of laughing, then mouthed the words:

"Now, how about some _real_ praying?"

Tilly, Matti, Josiah and Brendan obliged him.

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

The next morning, Miguel was anaesthetized and immobilized, and the procedure began. Matti and Josiah, assisted peripherally by the hospital's most-qualified medical technologists, did the actual work. Brendan made continuous dataphone video of the activity. Tilly and the chief of internal medicine were watching on a monitor screen, as were a number of local healthcare professionals including Avery Glass.

Aimed by means of ultrasound imaging, the needle-narrow beams of sound vibration entered Miguel's body from three directions. Each single beam was too weak to burst a cell wall by itself; thus they passed through healthy tissue without doing damage. Only where all three beams intersected was there enough energy being applied to kill a cell. The starting location for the ultrasonic therapy was a cluster of cancer cells less than a centimeter below the skin, close to the patient's groin. This place had been chosen because it represented the cancer's farthest large outpost in that direction; Matti's plan was to attack the cancer's territory on its edges and work inward. Slow, methodical caution was the order of the day; better to take longer killing bad cells than to make a mistake and kill a significant number of good cells.

Meanwhile, Miguel's blood was being circulated out of his body, through a complex filter, and back into his body. The filter was designed to separate the detritus of exploded cancer cells from the still-functional white cells, then allow the latter to return to work.

When two hours had passed, analysis of the filter's contents revealed that a great quantity of cancer cells had been killed, while fewer than three dozen healthy cells of any kind had been killed. This was very good indeed, when dealing with a carcinoma that had rooted itself so intricately among the victim's organs. Life signs showed that Miguel was holding up well; so, with the concurrence of the senior physician, Matti decided to keep going.

After another hour and a half, they came to a place where the target cells were directly alongside a large vein, making for particularly efficient expulsion of the killed cells through the blood. Given pre-calculated beam-aiming to avoid rupturing the vein itself, this place had been noted in their prior planning as an easy part of the job, if any part would be easy. Josiah signalled for a pause; then, with the beams safely shut off, he said to Matti, "Professor, you skipped breakfast. Why don't you get yourself something to eat, while the staff and I handle this easy part?"

The Finnish inventor was away less than twenty minutes, and upon returning appeared relieved that the others had not managed to kill the patient in his absence. The procedure continued past noon, with no sign of either Miguel or the ultrasound apparatus being adversely affected; then Matti decided to quit while they were ahead. The blood filtration would continue for another three hours, to make sure that all disrupted cancerous tissue had been eliminated from the patient's body; after that, Miguel would be brought back to consciousness and given some recovery time, in anticipation of more treatment tomorrow.

Once it was judged safe to leave Miguel in the care of his wife and the nursing staff, Josiah checked his dataphone for messages. Sure enough, there was a text message from Daffodil Ford: My train delayed awhile coming out of Casper. Still hope to see you today. Bet you will want a DNA test. Josiah showed this to Matti and Brendan, who both found it encouraging. Matti, who had eaten, then went to meet with Sioux San doctors and review his success so far.

Brendan and Josiah had lunch in the hospital cafeteria, after which Brendan put a call through to Alipang's landline phone to report on Miguel's situation. This left Josiah -- whose family in Uganda would be fast asleep at this hour -- to go outdoors and walk around for awhile, clearing his mind and praying about Daffodil.

He was near the old earth-retaining wall at the entrance to the hospital property, a wall which bore the hospital's name.... when he caught sight of a woman as gorgeous on the outside as he knew her to be warped and foul on the inside. Wearing something like a harem-girl costume, Samantha Ford was deliberately heading toward him.
 
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In the moment of grace he had before this feeble fury was upon him, it suddenly struck Josiah that (apart from having light-brown rather than red hair) Samantha Ford looked like the old-time actress Maureen O'Hara. He wondered whether the pathetic diplomat might have seen Miss O'Hara's films, and might now be trying to imitate Miss O'Hara's powerful force of indignation. Lots of luck on that one, lady. John Wayne had always been able to stand up to Maureen O'Hara; but it seemed to Josiah that Pee-Wee Herman would have been macho enough to defy Samantha Ford.

At least she proved to have some surprise on her side; for her actions and words upon closing the distance between them were not at all what he might have expected. As Josiah stood unmoving, she grabbed at his upper arms with her hands...bent her elbows as part of drawing herself up to him...and literally shoved her superbly-formed upper thorax against his chest. Her face was close enough to kiss, but her angry expression was not inviting such a response by him -- not that he would have been interested. What she said, in rapid-fire fashion, was:

"I've got you figured out, caveman! You're not filled with any fatherly concern; everybody knows men don't have any nurturing instincts! It's me you want! I know all about you crude warrior types: if a woman doesn't conform to your patriarchal paradigms, you have to ravish her, possess her, humiliate her, to prove your so-called manhood! Well, I'm the one who cares about Daffodil's future; and revolting as you are to me, I'm even willing to endure your lust, if I can persuade you then to leave my bioproduct alone!"

Moving straight backwards out of her grasp, the surprised Josiah retreated to the retaining wall, hopped up onto it and sat on it. As she came toward him once more, he told her: "I'll grant you that there is such a thing as a man lusting to make a conquest of a woman who's been antagonistic toward him. But even if I were that sort of man, and even if I were unattached, and even if I found you desirable, and even if I thought you found me desirable, it would still be a whopping great job of narcissism for you to figure that I came all this way from Africa looking for a roll in the hay with you!"

Hovering about a meter away from Josiah, Samantha looked blank for a few seconds; then, retreating from him in turn, she screamed ear-splittingly: "HELP!!! HELP!!! He's attacking me! Police! Help!"

After ten seconds of this, she looked at him again, much the way a child in a tantrum looks to see if she has an audience. He had not moved from his place. She screamed some more, then stopped as she made her own throat sore. Only now did Josiah speak again:

"Miss Ford, you're even stupider than I thought." He pointed at a utility pole, then at another one. "We have two security cameras watching us right now. You couldn't even convince Rhoda Gardner or Neutron Invincible that I assaulted you. So how about you and me actually talking about what's bothering you? It's too late to take back your words from the other day; what you told me, you told me. Exactly why do you think it's bad for Daffy to know I'm his father?"

Shifting gears again, Samantha tried to be icy and superior. "Because the very idea of fatherhood is poisonous. I don't suppose you can step outside your own maleness enough to perceive this, but the crude linear thinking of males ignores everything spiritual! You've never met my son before, yet just because he carries your physical genes, now you want to spoil all the work we've done to raise him above primitive masculinity. I understand you have other bioproducts; isn't it enough for you to indoctrinate them in your warmongering God-fascist ways? Please, please let my only child follow his true karmic path!"

Josiah shook his head in disbelief. "Woman, you're the one who would learn something if you could step outside yourself. Your Party opposes faith in God, opposes belief in a conscious life after death -- yet you tell me that I ignore the spiritual! And you tell me that being male means I'm obsessed with physical genetic descent -- when my physical genes were all that you wanted from me! But I guess you haven't heard that the two eldest of the four children I've raised aren't my own offspring. Their mother, my wife, was an actual victim of criminal violence, as opposed to play-acting like you. And if my Melody were here, she'd be glad to tell you how my love helped her to get over the effects of what she had suffered. Forgive the fluke out of me if that equals warmongering."

Samantha tried another tack, which at least had the advantage of making her seem genuinely human for a change: she hoisted herself onto the wall to sit beside him, leaving a space between them. "All right, perhaps you did learn from somewhere a little of the nurturing quality which doesn't come naturally to men. But why do you want to take Daffodil out of the only way of life he knows?"

"I haven't said I did want to take him anyplace. But what good have you done him while you've had him to yourself?"

At this moment they were interrupted, by the arrival of two policewomen, Commerce Inspectors to be specific, who coasted up on bicycles with guns already drawn. One of these women said to Josiah, "We got a call --Ah, it's you, Mr. Redfern! Remember us? We were at the restaurant with you the other night." The second policewoman teased Samantha: "I see that your ambassadorial skills have already defused the situation."

 
Neither of the two Commerce Inspectors was the woman who had remarked negatively about men the other night. Knowing what sort of person Samantha Ford was-- and knowing, as Josiah did, that she should have realized that the falsity of her outcry would be confirmed by the surveillance cameras --they both considered it a grand joke that she would thus embarrass herself. In another moment, they were bicycling away again, looking for any specimens of exile-made merchandise that they could insist on inspecting.

Samantha remained sitting near Josiah, trying to look regal; but although she did have the looks for it, she didn't have the acting ability. It was her non-assailant who broke the silence:

"Miss Ford, you know that I know that you know that you have never at any time been in danger of my assaulting you. Right now, you don't want to embarrass yourself further by running away from me like a little kid, the way you already did once. But you're not sure what else you can say to me, either. So you wish I would just go away. As a matter of fact, I _will_ have to go back inside soon."

"Wait, don't leave yet!" Samantha exclaimed abruptly. "You tribal patriarchal types usually boast that you know history. Do you know the history of this hospital right here?"

"Well, I know that the 'San' in its name is an abbreviation of the word 'sanitarium.' So I suppose that it originated as a sanitarium which either treated people of the Sioux Nation, or was operated by the Sioux, or both."

"Ha! Count on a white supremacist to be inaccurate about Native American history! Sioux San _first_ originated as a boarding school, where young people of several indigenous nations were _forced_ to assimilate to the racist Christian culture!"

Josiah shrugged. "Okay. And how does that support the argument that your son-- that _our_ son urgently needs to be raised as an effeminate atheist?"

Samantha slid down from her perch on the retaining wall, so that she could stand in front of Josiah with a scolding expression. "It illustrates the violent, coercive spirit of your linear male thinking-- something I've tried to inoculate my bioproduct against!"

"Hey, make up your mind, is it racial thinking or male thinking? First we're bad based on race issues, then we're bad for being male. Do you think maybe that everyone in the Sioux Nation was female?" He dropped off the wall also, startling her just a little. "No, of course you don't really believe that. But _your_ thinking certainly does manage to be non-linear, in fact incoherent, when the talk is about how people _today_ should live. You tried to get me in trouble with an accusation you _knew_ to be false; do you expect me to believe that you're any more honest in other matters? I know your type: nothing matters but your faction's agenda, plus your own carnal pleasures. You'll say _anything_ that might bring you an advantage, then contradict yourself the next day if it suits you. You find it handy to slander males; but the Christian faith you hate has many _female_ followers as well. Are you trying to make those women act more like men? --Hmm, come to think of it, you probably are. Well, Miss Ford, like it or not, you _have_ told me that my genes were taken to beget _our_ son; and I'm _going_ to talk with him about it very soon.

"Good day, Miss Ford. I'm going back to work. Maybe you and I will have another chat when you've decided what you _are_ talking about."

Josiah had barely taken four strides away from Samantha when she ran up and flung her arms around his waist from behind, her voice now more distressed. "Wait, please, wait! Maybe I was wrong about you individually; but I'm trying to protect _our_ son from destructive influences!" Feeling Josiah starting to turn back toward her, she loosened her embrace and let him turn. When he was looking her in the face again, she continued: "See, I'm not trying to fool you with fake tears. But I'm _begging_ you not to change Daffodil into a, into a caveman! He needs to be able to blend into _this_ culture, not a long-lost past era." She was breathing heavily now, and her costume emphasized the visual effect of her breathing. "Forgive me for accusing you; I was desperate; I still am desperate! Please, if this carries any weight with you, you _can_ take me; you can _have_ that conquest, be the _first_ man ever to have me. Only, _please_ don't ruin Daffodil's future!"

Josiah shifted away from her just a little, gently enfolding her hands in his. "From what I know about you, for you to make that offer to me is like someone offering to face torture. So maybe, even though your whole political system is built on lies, maybe in your own mind you have some _shred_ of a sincere belief that emasculation is good for the boy. I can promise you this much: unlike your Tolerance Houses, I won't try to _force_ Daffy to do anything he doesn't want to do."

When Josiah took his leave, he left behind him a woman who was _not_ any more inclined to desire a man than she had been before. But Samantha _was_ thinking about Josiah in one way. Since he himself had reminded her of the omnipresent cameras... If Zimmo Garland could get police permission to work with images of Josiah from the surveillance cameras, or from any other source, it would be possible to produce a computer-generated scene of a virtual Samantha and a virtual Josiah making passionate love. This would expand Samantha's movie portfolio, without her having to endure any _actual_ bodily intimacy with anything male. And since most of the world now had no legal restrictions on the use of a living person's likeness, the joke would be bounced back on Josiah, and he wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.

Melody Redfern would know what media technology could do, so she would realize that her partner had not really been unfaithful; but the coarse, primitive soldier would still be embarrassed. There didn't seem to be any way of stopping Josiah from talking with Daffodil; but here at least was the prospect of a petty revenge.

 
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Josiah made it back to the floor where Miguel was, in time to watch as magnetic-resonance imagery was taken of the internal spaces now emptied of cancer cells. Sioux San's M.R.I unit would normally be used only for for patients who were not exiles; but Matti Siermaala's project was prestigious enough that the Distribution Undersecretary had given a green light for M.R.I. use on Miguel.

While Brendan was doing something else, Matti and Josiah joined hospital personnel in comparing the magnetic-resonance pictures with the ultrasound views furnished by Matti's own device. All appeared to be well. Soon, when the blood-scrubber indicated no more dead cancer cells coming out, the patient was brought back to consciousness and given some liquid nourishment. Matti and Tilly undertook to speak with Miguel about the progress made so far; this freed Josiah to respond when Brendan reappeared and wanted to take him aside for something.

"I got to see some fresh outdoor security video," the Marine veteran announced, once they were in another room and had their voice-encrypting masks on. "What did the ex-ambassador want? It looked as if she had suddenly had a change of attitude and fallen madly in love with you!"

"That's a _little_ closer to being true than you might suppose. The poor crazy man-hater actually offered to... to pleasure me, if I would give up trying to get to know Daffy."

"Wonders never cease. Has it occurred to you that, if you _had_ been intimate with her, that would have made for a more dependable transfer of nanobots from her body to yours? Good thing you're monogamous, or at some point we'd have to scan your body for the little pests."

"Probably should anyway," Josiah grumbled. "After we get out of the Enclave. Even a less than erotic skin-to-skin contact _could_ enable a nanobot transfer... Hmm, do you think the Party folks already suspect that our ultrasound apparatus can seek and destroy implanted nanobots? They might want us to _worry_ that I could have picked some up from Samantha, so they can see if we do have Matti scan me for them."

"There, you're finally learning to think like a spy; not bad for an Army grunt. Yeah, they could be thinking that way; but I judge it highly unlikely, if there _are_ nanobots inside you now, that they're intended for any purpose that makes it pressingly urgent for us to root them out fast. Later is soon enough to check you."

"All right. Meanwhile, it's interesting that Mr. De Soto _doesn't_ have any micro- or nano-implants to track him. And him a notorious boat-rocker."

Brendan shrugged. "You remember, before we had to pack up and leave America, how the government made a big pretense of showing _more_ consideration for individual freedoms, by _cancelling_ the initiatives to stick microchips inside everyone. They could afford to make that concession, because they already had so many other means--"

A public-address speaker interrupted them, squawking, "Paging Josiah Redfern, paging Josiah Redfern! Please come to the front lobby and see Daffodil Ford! Josiah Redfern, see Citizen Ford in the lobby!"

Josiah removed his security mask, and could be seen grinning. "Here we go! This is what Samantha wanted to prevent. Come on, and see the moment of truth!" So the two men hastened to an elevator.

When they emerged in the lobby, there was Daffodil -- accompanied by Harmony Havens and Wilson Havens. Both boys were suddenly tongue-tied; but Harmony supplied the boldness, asking: "Mr. Redfern, would you object to having your DNA scanned to see if you might be related to anyone I know?"

 
"It so happens I've been _waiting_ to be asked," replied Josiah, "ever since an unexpected talk I had with Daffodil's ever-so-elegant mother. Daffy, we'll double this procedure for surety: my dataphone as well as yours."

Daffodil was silent for a moment longer -- staring with a stare that was not quite joyful, but certainly was not horrified. Brendan took over the job of breaking the silence, addressing the hesitant adolescent: "Young man, you look as if you wanted to say, 'Doctor Livingstone, I presume?' "

Daffodil shook himself out of his paralysis. "I never heard of a Doctor Livingstone."

"Daffy went to public schools," Wilson interjected. "They didn't want him to know that Livingstone was a white man who was on _friendly_ terms with native African tribes."

Keeping his eyes on Daffodil, Brendan tilted his head toward Wilson. "Yeah, what he said."

Josiah, who by now had his dataphone in hand, picked up from there. "David Livingstone was a British missionary in the part of the world where I live now. When he was missing, a man called Henry Stanley searched for him and finally found him, leading to what used to be one of the most famous greetings in history. That was before it was mandatory to make Western civilization the villain in everything."

Daffodil nodded. "Okay, I get it. And yes, Mr. Redfern, Mr. Hyland's implication is correct: _I've_ been searching for someone for a long time, or at least wishing I _could_ search. Denise Heathcock had a dream about you before she even met you, and she said you looked like me. And what you call 'an unexpected talk' must have been the same event that was gossiped to me by my friend Pinwheel: that my mother saw you on the street and ended up running from you as if the DeathstructionCorp mercenaries in the new movie were chasing her."

The man and the boy both held their dataphones within a quarter-meter of the other, set for DNA detection. As they did so, Josiah remarked, "The _reason_ why Miss Ford ran from me on that occasion was because, under the un-inhibiting influence of Wonderflexin, she had slipped and _told_ me where she got the male chromosomes to make you. Believe me, I had already noticed your resemblance to me, though I swear to God that I knew nothing about my chromosomes being taken at the time it happened. But now, there's no more cause for the hesitation you spoke about so intelligently at the restaurant." He looked for the instrument indication of DNA being categorized; Daffodil took the same look; and a long four seconds later, both dataphones had the readings.

Brendan, Harmony and Wilson had all been silently praying during this.

Daffodil and Josiah looked each other in the eye, then both looked back at their indicators. The boy spoke first: "Mine says that you _positively_ are a blood relative of mine: either my father, my uncle or my brother."

Josiah's broad smile returned. "I've got no brothers, only a sister named Tiffany; she married my wife's cousin Zack, and they're safe in Alchatka now. Nor am I your brother, though I'm flattered that your scanner thinks I look that young." Now he held up his dataphone. "This is a more advanced model than yours. It says, plain and direct, that YOU ARE MY SON."

Daffodil's jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "Sir-- Mr. Redfern, no, not that now-- I don't know what to call you! It isn't _your_ fault that I can't address you as Caregiver."

"Dad or Papa will do, if you feel able to be that casual with me. Otherwise, Father's fine too."

Daffodil's hands hovered indecisively in front of him. "Father, for the moment. I would want to hug you, except... except that for as long as I can remember, my mother's been telling me that my most intense positive response to a man should be something _very_ different from a son-to-father feeling." He glanced sidelong at Wilson. "On the other hand, Wilson here hugs _his_ father all the time, as does Harmony with hers. You know, Father, I want you to be friends with the Havens family. They've made it _possible_ for me to meet you and-- that is, to meet you and be _able_ to feel what I _ought_ to feel." He pocketed his dataphone, still hesitant.

Josiah handed his dataphone to Brendan, so the latter could see the DNA readout for himself. "Daffy, I know enough about you to say that I'm _awestruck_ at just what a _great_ kid you are, given the kind of odds they rigged up against you. So please accept the word of a soldier and a Christian, that _this_ is intended in _exactly_ the way it should be."

At that, Josiah pulled the taller but lighter-built boy into his arms, squeezing him close. It took scarcely over two seconds for Daffodil to start hugging back; it took even less time for Harmony's eyes to begin pouring out sentimental tears.

Two male hospital employees were walking through the lobby just then. Seeing Josiah embracing Daffodil, they looked as if they wanted to make some snide remark; but then they noticed Brendan glowering ominously at them, noticed that he wore a sidearm like an authority figure, and held their peace.

Relaxing the hug at last, Daffodil expressed one more misgiving. "Sir, if I get to meet your wife, will she be jealous, or will her children be jealous, because I came from a different mother?"

"Not a bit, son. Firstly, although your mother wasn't fertilized until years after my genes were harvested, the actual taking from me--" Josiah choked off that sentence. Although he could now speak openly about _being_ Daffodil's father, it _still_ was a guarded secret that he could know _when_ the chromosome theft had occurred.

Brendan, more accustomed than Josiah was to covert ops, quickly stepped in to redirect the incomplete statement: "Yes, it's a horribly impersonal process, not at all as if Mr. Redfern and your mother had been any kind of lovers. And yes, the collected genetic material can be preserved for long periods. There's nothing for Melody Redfern to be jealous about."

"Nor our children," added Josiah, regaining his calm. "They understand family blending, what with Elijah and Isaiah not being MY physical offspring. All of them will take to you right away, if you get the chance to meet them. Just look at Miss Havens there: she's an adopted child, but I'm sure she enjoys enormous love in _her_ family. Intact biological families, father and mother with their own children, _are_ God's ideal for humanity; but a variant which _doesn't_ contradict the spirit of the original model, can turn out just as good."

"Thank you, Mr. Redfern," said Harmony, who was past the heaviest of her happy weeping. "Hey, Daffodil, have you used up all your hugs?"

When the boy turned from his father to his infatuation, it seemed to himself as if he were only noticing for the first time that he was considerably taller than the Chinese girl. This sensation, plus the affirmation of his worth already declared to him by his newfound father, made him feel a little more confident about embracing Harmony Havens. Though he still was far from feeling bold enough to kiss her by his own initiative.

Therefore, she kissed him... and as she came away from this, it was her turn to wonder just what her own feelings were.
 
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Brendan handed Josiah's dataphone back to the technologist, then drew forth his own. "Here, Wilson, if I keep my hand on this, you'll be able to talk into it. Let me run the call through the local network, then you can be the one to tell your Mom and Papa the good news. We'll go outside for this, while your Aunt Harmony goes with the others to see Mr. De Soto."

"Thank you, sir. And after that, can we call to Casper? Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Chilena and the rest will want to know about this too." So out the front door they went. As they did so, Josiah led Daffodil and Harmony to the elevator.

Only after boarding did Josiah notice that his son and the young woman were holding hands, themselves appearing unaware of the action. He didn't remark on this in any way, much less ask which of the two had first taken the other's hand. Age difference notwithstanding, Josiah already knew enough about the Havens family to be confident that a Havens girl would be more wholesome company for Daffodil than most companionship the boy was likely to find in present-day America. In fact, the sourly amusing thought of Samantha going ballistic about her son being in love with a Christian girl, was almost enough to make Josiah himself come out and ask Harmony to marry Daffodil.

Miguel De Soto was doing some hand-holding of his own, with Tilly, when the three visitors entered his room. Smiling at the sight of them, the old newspaperman freed his hand in order to write a note. While he did this, Tilly's gaze also took in Daffodil's handclasp with Harmony; but she also let it pass without comment. Now Daffodil made his announcement to the De Sotos and to the bystanding Matti Siermaala: "Guess what, everybody! What everyone in Rapid City seems to have suspected, has now been proven! The missing half of my heredity has been identified, and here he stands-- my _father,_ Josiah Redfern!"

One result of this declaration was that Harmony lost her hold on Daffodil's hand, as Tilly De Soto surged forward to give the boy a hug of congratulations. Matti shook hands with both father and son. Daffodil and Harmony did not for the time being rejoin their hands, but they did exchange a smiling glance. Miguel added something to whatever he had originally written. Matti tossed in a technical remark for the new arrivals: "Mr. De Soto's gills did very well during today's treatment. We had a blood aerator on standby, but he only needed it for two periods of less than five minutes each. Most of the time, his blood-oxygen levels remained adequate without the aeration."

When Miguel's note was completed, he gestured that he wanted Harmony to see it first. She read it aloud: "Harmony, I haven't forgotten that your inspired idea allowed me to live long enough to receive this help. And Daffy, yes, I was one who already guessed Josiah could be your father. If you'll take my advice--"

The young woman suddenly quit speaking. She handed the note to Josiah, who saw what the remainder said, and he showed this to his son. The last part of the note said: "--you'll ask him to get you OUT of America, like yesterday."

Matti could guess what must have been the direction of the unspoken part, and he filled in the uneasy silence: "I think Mr. De Soto is the kind of man for whom being right about something boosts his health."

"Good for him," said Josiah, shoving the note into a pocket.

"Before you three came up," the Professor went on, "Miguel told me in another note that he doesn't feel cured yet, but he's glad not to feel any worse. There's a lot more carcino-suction, that's what I like to call this kind of therapy, a lot more still to do; but Miguel is in high spirits and hopeful."

Josiah looked at his son again. "I'm in high spirits myself. This young man here is worthy to be a sibling to the four fine kids I already had. I think he'll make big footprints _wherever_ he goes in the future."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Out in front of the hospital, not far from where Samantha had propositioned her co-parent, Wilson succeeded in reporting the good news, about Josiah and about Miguel, to the Havens households in both Sussex and Casper. Chilena told him in return that she and Dan had just heard from Isadora Cruller about the sneak preview of Sectors of the Heart. This invitational showing, at the Rainbow House no less, had been attended chiefly by high members of the Fairness Party Presidium plus foreign dignitaries (movies, after all, being the leading Diversity States export now). Everyone seemed to have loved it, and President Trevette herself had urged Isadora to plan a sequel. "Which keeps us employed!" Chilena concluded.

Dan got on before the end and said, "Trip Conklin is developing a script under the title Powerplants of the Heart. This suggests to me that with Yellowstone being annexed to the Enclave, the Party may be dropping the policy of pretending that exiles _aren't_ keeping the nation's energy infrastructure going."

Well before Wilson signed off, Brendan spotted a man around his own age getting out of a pedicab nearby. This man, wearing wildly colorful clothes, remained in one place, looking at Brendan and Wilson, as if waiting for the phone conversation to be over. Brendan would have gone at once to find out who the stranger was, if not that he was needed to keep the dataphone working for Alipang's son. As soon as the call was ended, Brendan reclaimed his phone, gave a you-stay-here gesture to Wilson, and strode toward the gaudy man.

"I believe you're one of the medical consultants from overseas?" the man said, offering to shake hands. Brendan shook hands, seeing no need to start out with rudeness, and spoke: "Brendan Hyland, formerly of the United States, now of Nigeria. And you are--?"

"Zimmo Garland, from the Department of Indoctrination. I believe you've met two of the ladies who work with me in the avant-garde cinema: Osmawani Jalil and Samantha Ford."

"I know who they are. Miss Ford was here less than an hour ago, talking with my colleague from Uganda."

"No need to be delicate, Mr. Hyland. My law-enforcement connections advised me, even before Samantha got around to telling me, that Samantha had revealed the fact of Mr. Redfern's paternal-surrogate role in her bioproduct's life."

"Did Miss Ford ask you to come here now?"

"She did, actually. As a veteran of the diplomatic corps, she would feel herself discredited if she left an impression of _hate_ with anyone. Is Mr. Redfern where I could speak with him?"

"Josiah's busy right now, getting to know the son who's been hidden from him for sixteen years. But I can speak for him in this. Neither Josiah nor I have a dogmatic judgment of whether Miss Ford positively _hates_ men, or is _merely_ repulsed by them. She obviously doesn't mind being around you, anyway. As for how Josiah feels toward Miss Ford, I can assure you that he doesn't hate her any more than he lusts for her. What he and I both feel for Miss Ford is pity."



 
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Chapter 108: The Boiling Pot Gets Watched

The Arapahoe midwife, satisfied that Kim was in flawless health, took her leave of a grateful Havens family, taking with her Alipang's promise of free dental care the next time she needed it. Irina Stepanova would be coming by within the next three days to give Kim and Baby Peggy a follow-up examination. Any inclination to post-partum depression on Kim's part was diminished by the joy of good news, when the report reached them by telephone of Josiah Redfern being proven to be Daffodil's father.

It was in this optimistic mood that the Havens family (minus Wilson, who was still in Rapid City) walked over to the Rochefort home, where they were invited to supper. A pleasant surprise awaited them there, in the form of Ransom and Lydia, Lydia's mother Lois Reinhart, Bill and Lorraine Shao... and the ex-convict called Gerbil.

"Fidel North received an order from the Vice-President, no less," Bill told Alipang, "that Lorraine and I, and these others, were to be brought here to join us. He passed word through the Energy Department for Lorraine and me to be given transportation here, and through the Agriculture Department for Ransom and Lydia to be transported."

"Annette and I had already invited Gerbil to eat with us," added Raoul, "because he's been performing so well on the building-repair jobs."

"Thank you, Citizen Rochefort," Gerbil timidly mumbled. "It's more praise than I deserve."

Kim, in a generous mood, stepped up to Gerbil and hugged him. "At least you won't bend our ears by the hour chattering about self-esteem. Try to relax; we're all in the same landlocked boat here."

"Mother and Ransom and I were brought here in a van by a couple of Lyra Bender's Forest Rangers," Lydia volunteered. "We asked why it was so important for us to have supper in Sussex -- not that we object to being with you folks! -- but the Rangers didn't know the reason for the order."

Alipang caught Annette Rochefort's eye and asked her, "If the government wants these extra guests to eat with us, did they do anything about supplying extra food?"

"As a matter of fact, they are doing something. Fidel North is in town right now, and he told us he'd be over shortly with ample food, ready-cooked, courtesy of the modest kitchen facilities at the local federal building."

"While we're waiting for our pink-shirted delivery man," said Raoul, "who would like some coffee? Peter and I both were paid partly with coffee, since neither of our households has even _seen_ coffee in over a year."

Lorraine and Alipang were the first ones to accept the offer. Gerbil was so conspicuously timid about asking for anything, that Annette simply _gave_ him a cup of coffee without waiting for him to ask. Those who were not having coffee, had apple cider or herbal tea. When everyone had something to drink, Alipang set about relaying the news of Daffodil's happy discovery.

Once he had told all he knew, Veronique Rochefort piped up: "Does that mean that Monsieur Daffy will emigrate out of here, the way those Egyptian people did?"

"I don't know, because Daffy himself hasn't even begun to address that question," Alipang replied. "But given Brendan's description of Mr. Redfern, Daffy would be _infinitely_ better off living with _that_ family."

The bizarre behavior of Samantha Ford having been part of the report, Lorraine said, "No one seemed to be upset about Ma'at Wazir and her kids leaving with Bert Randall; but _they_ weren't connected with the State Department. I wonder if Ms. Ford will pull strings to _prevent_ her son from emigrating?"

"I doubt it," snorted Alipang. "She can make her 'edgy' movies just as easily with him gone, as with him here."

Fidel North not immediately showing up, Annette took the meat and vegetables she had originally cooked for the party originally expected, and portioned this food out to the larger number of persons now present in her house, declaring this to be the first course. Mrs. Reinhart assisted her in the serving. They were just finishing the first course when Mr. North arrived, with two other men to help him bring in the promised food, which included three roasted pheasants.

What these men did not bring _into_ the house was what they had just attached to the _outside_ of the house: miniature microphones, able to hear through the walls, and giving better sound quality than more distant sensor devices in penetration mode....

 
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"We're certainly thankful for the gift," said Raoul to Mr. North; "but may we ask what we did to merit Vice-President Anselmo's kindly attention?"

"This gesture is by way of acknowledging the merits of exiles--" here the Pinkshirt supervisor glanced at Bill; "--and semi-exiles, in several situations. For one, Citizen Shao there was helpful to the Yellowstone develoment project by drawing up recommendations of which Energy personnel in this sector were best suited for temporary assignments at the geothermal sites. You, Citizen Rochefort, and those who have been working with you, maintained a high standard of quality in the recent jobs you did for government facilities. Your bioproduct Veronique, along with Dr. Havens and Victor Tomisaburo, brought certain irregularities to our notice, affecting the infrastructure-access network. All of this is known to Citizen Anselmo, and he doesn't want to seem remiss in offering positive reinforcements for good conduct. He had a lot to do with relaxing the restrictions on visitation..."

"And my family is extremely grateful for that," Alipang affirmed. "I can't tell you what a morale boost it's been to be able to have Chilena and Melody here with us, them and their, um, domestic collectives."

"Glad to hear you say so, Dr. Havens. And there's more. Your offspring Wilson, I can tell you, is being a fine, emotionally supportive comrade to Daffodil Ford, as the two of them in turn uphold the spirits of the test patient for that sonic therapy. I frankly don't know whether Daffodil has any notions of emigrating now that he has identified his male chromosome-source; but let me go on with our present subject. You're aware that most of you exiles are granted far more latitude in reproduction than is true for the American proletariat otherwise, as witness no impediment being given to your having this fourth bioproduct of yours. But with so much breeding in progress in the Enclave, the Genetic Health Service can hardly be expected not at least to _observe_ your genetic demographics."

"Naturally. So how does our making new exiles get on the list of our merits in the present context?"

Mr. North pointed at Ransom. "I have in mind Citizen Kramer. By commencing to partner this Amish woman, he has taken a proactive step against unhealthy inbreeding of the Amish contingent. The Genetic Health Service is pleased with him for this." The Pinkshirt could not possibly have been ignorant of the fact that Amish persons (knowing what "partnering" commonly meant these days) would be _especially_ uncomfortable with the insinuation that Ransom and Lydia were putting the honeymoon ahead of the wedding; but he acted oblivious to the offense he was offering to Lois and Lydia.

"Well, we've got our appetites worked up to eat this fine multi-purpose reward you've brought to us," remarked Kim, changing the subject. "Are there any other merits we should know about before we eat it?"

"Yes, a posthumous recognition of sorts." Mr. North suddenly handed an old-fashioned stationery envelope to Lorraine. "This note will explain it, Citizen Sloane-Kramer-Shao. I only beg to insist that you eat the food _first,_ and read the note only afterwards. With that, I leave you all to enjoy yourselves."

"Merci beaucoup," said Annette; and soon the three government men were gone...

...though they only went as far as where a concealed sensor station had been set up within a block of the Rochefort house. Thermal imaging let them see a reasonable view of the persons gathered at two tables in the house. For Carlos Anselmo's benefit, database records of the likenesses of all those persons would be media-shopped with the motions of the thermal images, and with the sound of their conversations being picked up right now, ultimately creating a facsimile of a regular television image. Of course, tiny _actual_ cameras could have been placed _inside_ the house; but it had been Fidel North's judgment that this would have been more likely to be noticed by the exiles, making their words and actions much less authentic and spontaneous.

Mr. North had seen the old movie The Truman Show many times.

Further conversation among the Rocheforts and their numerous guests included minor comments, such as Esperanza Havens guessing that the Pinkshirts might have been grossed out bringing _meat_ to the house. Weightier talk was mostly about Daffodil's finding of his father, and about the progress made in establishing the new Yellowstone Sector. No one in the house was saying anything about the insulting implication made against Ransom and Lydia's chastity. But Fidel North's team was waiting for the real fun to start, when Lorraine Shao would open and read the note he had presented to her.

This note would inform her that she was sitting at supper with the man who, in prison, had stuck a knife in the back of her first husband, and who had slashed the stomach of her elder son.
 
"Have they shown you a map of the new sector's final boundary?" Alipang asked the Taiwanese-born Energy Ombudsman.

"Yes, they have," Bill told him, gesturing at the tabletop with a pointing finger. "Think of a musical note on a sheet of staff paper: the tail sticks out one way at the top, and the round part sticks out the other way at the bottom. Tip the note over to the right, while also twisting it around on its long axis, and the line between its ends is a west-to-east strip of Montana. The round part, now sticking down toward the south, is that part of Wyoming, both inside and outside the original Enclave perimeter, which is being taken into the new sector. The top-tail part, butting up against the Dakotas, gets wider, swelling up more to the north as it reaches east, so that it'll reach high enough to _have_ a border with _North_ Dakota."

Alipang thought back to the days when people could drive where they wanted to. "Sounds as if you're saying the new perimeter follows the course of Interstate 94."

"It does, only the highway is being kept _outside_ the fence, till it reaches the point where it turns to the southeast. The city of Billings, Montana, will also be outside. There won't be much need for in-Enclave ground traffic from North Dakota Sector into Yellowstone Sector; most surface movement into and out of Yellowstone Sector will come from and return to Wyoming Sector. I suppose they'll add a few secret gates in the new Montana perimeter, as they presumably already had in the old perimeter. But that won't affect us. Anyway, shaping the boundary this way means shaping the _airspace_ of the Enclave, so that planes can fly straight between those two sectors without leaving the Enclave. The _land_ over that way, I mean east of where the actual Yellowstone Park is, will be used for logging and farming where possible."

"That's where the Crow Reservation and the Northern Cheyenne Reservation are, isn't it? Are those tribes staying there to do that logging and farming?"

"I think the reservations will still exist, maybe downsized some; probably split half-and-half as to how many stay and how many move out. One of the geothermal-development managers told me that since the Crow and Cheyenne weren't considered subversive, it should be possible to arrange a biometric-identification system to allow certified members of the tribes to go in and out at will once the new fence is up."

Everyone had been treating Gerbil courteously, so now he found the boldness to contribute to the discussion. "I heard something in the Self-Esteem Center before I came to the Enclave, while it was being decided what prisoners would be relocated where. They were saying that part of the Cheyenne territory, someplace with buildings, would be used as a processing center for new laborers destined for the geothermal-plant work. Not sure what-all _kind_ of processing."

Bill turned in his seat to face the ex-convict. "What you heard must be connected with something else I've heard. I got to meet a physician out of North Dakota Sector being assigned to the Yellowstone project: a woman named Onita Paniagua, she's worked with Ursula Jamison. Onita specializes in gastroenterology, only exile gastroenterologist in the Enclave if I'm not mistaken, with cross-training as a dietician. And going by hints I've heard, she may be doing the medical screening at the processing center you mentioned."

"Je prie votre pardon," interjected the Rocheforts' son Gustave, "but is there a reason why you're telling him that physician's specialty?"

"There is," Bill replied, while holding up a piece of cornbread in front of the boy's eyes. "Corn is the reason. Only, not this excellent Nebraska Sector corn we're eating in the form of cornbread. I hear that large numbers of the inmates at the concentration camps were fed corn as a main staple of their diet; but the corn _they_ got was a surplus supply of genetically-modified corn which had been mutated for the purpose of making ethanol fuels."

"That would mean more corn sugar in it, and less protein," observed Alipang.

"Virtually NO protein," Bill amended. "The stuff was nearly worthless as food for people or animals, but they fed it to those prisoners. Which means that the processing center for the Yellowstone workforce may see _hundreds_ of malnutrition cases, and that'll be the ones _least_ affected by their empty-calories diet."

"Will there be any effort made to restore those poor unfortunates to health before expecting them to construct power stations?" asked Lois Reinhart, clearly feeling sorry for those prisoners regardless of whether they had committed any crimes.

"I would think so," said Alipang. "Reminds me of a line in an old Biblical movie: Cities are made of bricks. The strong make many; the starving make few. The dead make none."

Raoul nodded; he also had once seen Charlton Heston as Moses. "Surely they'll do _something_ to make the incoming workers more able to work."

Alipang suddenly brightened. "Say, maybe they'll assign Evan Rand there. You know, rehab. Then he'd be sure of having the employment he was trained for."

From that point, the supper conversation wound down into more casual subjects. Only when Lydia and the other young females had cleared away the last of the dishes did Lorraine announce, "Now for Mr. North's little surprise," and open the envelope.

 
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The spirit of Wilson Kramer, seeing and hearing all that was happening in and around the Rochefort house, prayed: "God, please let them figure it out."

"Amen," added Quinn Kramer. "And give my brother peace in his heart."

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

"Dear Lorraine,

"It is well known that you and those dear to you subscribe to the idea that your version of the Universal Spirit manages events for your good. If a speculative Deity can be credited with such attentiveness and foresight, surely the earthly leadership structure which embraces every vision of the Ultimate can be relied on to be that way also. Did we not remove Nash Dockerty when he abused his office? And now, we are doing what we can do to make amends for a tragedy which was never intended by us, but which happened because we underestimated the residual strength of the reactionary elements.

"In the tense early months of 2021, the Party was bravely standing against the racist corporate reactionary forces. The urgency of taking America back was so great, that it must sadly be admitted that some individuals could not be rescued from unexpected moments of primitive backlash.

"You will recall that your domestic partner Wilson Kramer, and your first bioproduct Quinn, were detained for questioning in connection with their disproportionate response to citizen volunteers who had entered your residential unit. They should, like many other detainees, have soon been allowed to return to you, once their erroneous perceptions of social justice had been corrected. But they completed their lives in the Self-Esteem Center to which they were assigned. Only lately have the details of this tragedy come to light; and since they have come to light, you and those with you are being granted the privilege of confronting the truth in a particularly tangible form.

"During an unrestrained-movement period, six inmates, who have now been unmasked as deep-cover agents of the fascist business corporations, laid a trap for Citizens Wilson and Quinn Kramer. Five of these pretended to be beating the sixth to death, while the sixth man screamed for help. The guards had been bribed by capitalist infiltrators to allow the simulated assault to continue, in order to lure Wilson Kramer into intervening. The six men performing the deception required no bribing; their crude right-wing hatred for all entities of government extended to their target, since he was a military veteran.

"Wilson Kramer told his bioproduct to stay back, then attacked the five seeming assailants. It was all they could do, even having expected his onslaught, to protect themselves from suffering major injuries; but they achieved their aim of putting him off guard where the sixth man was concerned. This man, who had seemed already disabled, suddenly jumped up and pulled a concealed knife, which he plunged into--"

Lorraine's listeners no longer included Annette and little Ondine, the former having hurried out of the dining room with the latter as soon as she heard the "some individuals could not be rescued" part, so that Ondine would not hear anything grim. Alipang, meanwhile, had scarcely been looking at Lorraine while she read, but mostly at Ransom, and then at Gerbil. A suspicion had started growing in Alipang as of the fourth sentence; and once the note's description of the prison ambush began, he saw that Gerbil had progressed from his usual timidity to outright fear. By the time it was said that Wilson Kramer had been put off guard, Gerbil --seemingly unnoticed by anyone but Alipang -- was unconsciously uttering a faint whine of despair and helpless terror.

When Lorraine, her own voice cracking with grief as she found herself narrating her first love's death, was thus in the midst of reporting the horrid moment of betrayal... Alipang leaped up from his chair and flung himself toward the mournful woman, whose face and head he touched with fingers that were as gentle as his movement otherwise had been furious.

"Aunt Lorraine, wait! Don't say any more! Wait! Something's going on. Everyone, listen to me! If you ever trusted me, trust me now! Don't say or do anything till I'm out of the room!"

Fast as his movement to Lorraine's side had been, his movement to reach the trembling ex-convict was even swifter. Grasping Gerbil firmly but not violently, Alipang lifted him upright. "Gerbil! I won't harm you, but you must also trust me. We both have to get outdoors at once! You others, read the rest when I'm out the door -- but remember what Our Lord said from the Cross about His own slayers!"

Gerbil was now sobbing with terror, incoherently begging for his life. Alipang practically carried him outside, saying to him, "I know! I know why they were brought here -- but I promise you, I will neither kill you myself, nor let you be killed if I can prevent it. This way, now; I need to be clear of trees, to be where the satellites can see us!"
 
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When he made mention of being seen by satellites, Alipang spoke aloud in the _expectation_ of being heard by some form of sound pickup. What he _didn't_ say aloud was that he was not hauling Gerbil to the _very_ nearest place outside the Rochefort house that had a good clear overhead view. For the nearest such open space was also on that side of the house where the exterior wall was nearest to the dining room within. If the Pinkshirts _were_ using penetrative thermal imaging, as he felt sure they were, and given that they _could_ potentially watch from any of several spots, he guessed that they would (all other things being equal) prefer to be situated on that side of the house where they would have the _least_ amount of solid substance between their sensors and the people in the dining room, for the best image quality.

So Alipang took a different course once he was out the door. Still with Gerbil in tow, he rounded the house to what he believed would be the side _away_ from Fidel North's team; then he dashed into the back yard of the property behind the Rocheforts. The scarcity of home fences in the Enclave was due to the regime's dislike of privacy for the proletariat, but now it helped Alipang's purpose. On the street behind the street where the Rocheforts lived, he hustled Gerbil half a block farther away; then, in the middle of a street without automobiles, he halted and looked straight up, waving.

"Hello again, monitor operators! Your Party's written a new play for us to act in, but we're ad-libbing! Come on, use that light-enhancement and read my lips; I'll talk slowly for you. Are you with me? If not, I trust your automatic recordings are. I might have to move a bit farther south, however; I hear some noise from the stage I was _supposed_ to stay on." Dragging Gerbil down the block and around a corner, he resumed:

"In case you individual underlings don't know this, the man with me is the murderer of two dear friends of mine. His name is Jerry Sunderberg. He's been given the clockwork-orange treatment, so he _can't_ defend himself. (Wave to the nice people, Jerry!) Someone, allegedly Carlos Anselmo, arranged for me and others to find out what Jerry did, in order to see if we would forgive him like true Christians." Another break now for further evasive action...

"The setup was meant to put us in a lose-lose dilemma. If we killed or hurt Jerry, then your friends would say we were hypocrites and haters. But if we _forgave_ him, they would just say that we did so because we feared being punished if we hurt him; so they would _still_ call us hypocrites. I'm afraid, though, that if Campaign Against Hate is running this show, they'll want to weight the scales on the side of _more_ blame for us. Jerry, I hope I'm wrong, but you may have a termination device planted in your body, to _make_ you drop dead, so we _could_ be accused of killing you. So I'm going to stand back from you. Monitor people, are you watching? I'm stepping away from Jerry, and at the moment he's still breathing. No way am *I* doing anything to kill him, and the others back in the house can hardly be killing him, can they? Gerbil, how do you feel?"

"I'm scared," Jerry alias Gerbil whimpered. "Please, I swear, they said they'd kill my family if I _didn't_ help to kill that man and his son..."

"You might be telling the truth," Alipang conceded. "But even if you _loved_ murdering my friends, I can feel sorry for you now. Excuse me while I continue;" and he looked up into the sky again. "After the turnover when your Chief Justice got fired, it was no longer any secret to us inside the fence that you guys have internal rivalries just like the old Soviet Union. So maybe not _everybody_ in the Party likes having your technical resources wasted on pulling our chains, just when we exiles are _more_ valued as a workforce because Yellowstone's being developed for energy. Be that as it may, there's no way I'm letting any of you pin Jerry's death on my family or friends, if in fact he does fall down dead."

"I don't want to die!" Gerbil yelped.

"I don't want you to die either, you poor thing. If you _don't_ die in the next few minutes, that _probably_ will mean you don't have a destruct implant. Give it a minute, now..."

Gerbil still was breathing when Philippe, one of the Rochefort sons, came running up. "Doctor Havens? Are you all right?"

"You don't _sound_ as if you just came from seeing the others getting arrested, so I suppose I'm all right. Have Pinkshirts or anybody even _come_ back to the house?"

"No, sir, it's all quiet, except some of us heard what might be a motor vehicle driving away. When you ran outside, Ransom told us you must have decided we were being watched; he's told us before now about how his father used to talk about surveillance and tailing. Did anything happen out here?"

"I just had a talk with either Diversity States personnel monitoring the satellite channels the Chinese let them use, or some actual Chinese watchers. I'm convinced that the Party, someone in the Party anyway, wished for us to kill Gerbil or beat him up, so they could say that we never meant anything we said about Christian forgiveness."

"Ransom thinks the same, and Lydia and her mother agree."

"Please don't kill me," Gerbil pleaded, as if he hadn't heard Alipang's previous assurances.

Alipang stepped up to him and patted him on the shoulder. "Gerbil, if I'd been _there_ at the time of the murder, I would have been happy to kill you to _prevent_ Wilson and Quinn Kramer from dying. Under more normal circumstances, I would have been plenty indignant if you didn't have to bear _some_ kind of penalty for what you did. But the rulers must not have realized that by conditioning you, they made it _easier_ for us to forgive you, because now you're a victim yourself." Now Alipang faced Philippe again. "I'm not going to have to stop Ransom from attacking Gerbil if we go back to the house, am I?"

"I think not, sir. Nor Lorraine."

"How is Lorraine taking it?"

"Very hard. She can't help feeling the grief of her loss again; but that must make Monsieur Shao feel inferior."

"I think Bill Shao's a bigger man than to turn jealous in these circumstances. But we should get back to the house. Come on, Gerbil, you have my word for your safety already. Perhaps we'll have you sleep at my house tonight."
 
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"Couldn't we just go there now?" Gerbil begged. "And I can ask for a different assignment..."

Alipang surprised himself. Kim had hugged this man _before_ his crime was revealed; now, _knowing_ Gerbil's guilt, Alipang also hugged him nonetheless. "Listen, Jerry Sunderberg. Much of your free will has been stolen from you by reprogramming; but _here_ is an opportunity for you to do something which will really be _your_ action. With society being what it is, this may be completely new to you; it's called facing responsibility."

Gerbil trembled afresh. "Then you ARE going to punish me!"

Alipang patted the criminal's back as he might pat a child. "You don't understand. Maybe in all your life before now, you never _wanted_ to understand; but you _still_ have an opportunity now. I'm not talking about punishment. There would be some degree of earthly penalty for you if we had a sane civilization, but a much _worse_ penalty for those who put you up to killing the Kramers. As it is, we can skip straight to the part that matters most: salvaging your soul."

"But, but, my feet are all right...."

This took Alipang by surprise, but Philippe stepped in with a reply: "Monsieur Sunderberg, Alipang does not mean the ess-oh-ell-ee-ess on your feet. He means your ess-oh-you-ell, as in your mind and spirit."

"That, I, well, uh, but, um, you see, I'm sorry, but.... they tell me I'm not supposed to follow, you know, superstitions."

Alipang stepped clear, giving Gerbil one more kindly pat as he did so. "No doubt the Pinkshirts told you that following 'superstitions' is the cause of hate. But you _didn't_ hate Wilson and Quinn when you killed them, did you?"

"No, honest, I didn't. I was forced to do it!"

"Which proves that there can be _other_ motives for evil deeds besides hate. The Campaign Against Hate has _always_ obscured this truth; but we're going to _tell_ you the truth. So listen. What we loosely call 'the soul' -- and men have long tried to understand its nature and its outlines -- is more than biochemistry and appetites. It exists in each of us, and makes us able to think _outside_ the little circle of our own self-interest. My own soul, or spirit -- time enough later for you to learn hair-splitting distinctions -- is prompting me right now to forgive you. And the fact that I _have_ such a thing, and that other human beings also do, is a sign that we are not _only_ biological units in a meaningless universe. We are the creations of a personal God, Who is decidedly not a superstition."

"Doctor Havens, can we go back to the house now?" interjected Philippe. "Madame Havens seemed to understand why you ran outside with Gerbil, but she will want you back beside her to face whatever comes next."

"You're right, Philippe, we'll go back. Gerbil, one thing I'm sure you DO already know, is that the government has NO qualms about murdering any of us at any time, if our death serves the convenience of the rulers. But although they can kill our bodies, they _can't_ kill our humanity if we don't let them. Kim can think of her love for me _even_ when it's possible that my refusal to play the expected game could bring trouble on us. Not that I _think_ it will; I do have a certain prestige by now; but that can always change. Anyway, Kim and I are not just two animals that mated; we are _spiritual_ beings who love each other. That's part of what I hope to make you understand..."

Alipang continued witnessing for his Lord as they coaxed Gerbil back toward the Rochefort house. The first additional person from that house to meet them was Lorraine. She came alone; and though there was nothing like anger on her handsome face, Gerbil shrank from her as if she were an avenging executioner.

"Don't be afraid of me, Jerry Sunderberg," she said hoarsely. "I can guess what Al has been talking about, and I approve of whatever he told you. Something Al _won't_ have told you, because he's a gentleman, is this: years ago, I _also_ did a great wrong to the same two men you later murdered. What I did was to _abandon_ them for the sake of my own pleasure and fun. But I was forgiven, and the wrong was set right. In your case, what you did can't be undone; but you still can be forgiven. I forgive you right now. It's my human weakness that I won't be able to bear looking at you for long; but I really do want you to be saved. Your being saved, _will_ be the destruction of the evil in you. I leave you to others now, but I leave you with my wishes for your eternal well-being." She turned then, gesturing toward the man who was now visible at a little distance. "Bill! Thank you for being so understanding! Let's go now; Sylvia will let us stay over with her tonight."

And as if she had done all she could, Lorraine ran to her living husband's arms without looking at Gerbil again.

Alipang led the ex-convict onward. Next, they were met by Ransom.

"Gerbil, you don't realize how blessed you are to have Alipang with you. In the absence of my father, Alipang did more than any other one person to direct me on the path of Christ. I want to stay close and listen while he continues telling you the gospel, because I _know_ he must have been doing that. If I keep quiet, it'll be because I'm not as eloquent a talker as Alipang is; but understand that I forgive you, just like my mother."

After talking briefly with Kim and the Rocheforts, Alipang and Ransom sat out in front with Gerbil for a long time. Alipang explained, as far as mortals could ever explain it, the Incarnation of God in Jesus Christ, and His actions for the salvation of sinners. Alipang wanted this to occur outdoors, not so much for Gerbil's ease as in order that any police officers who showed up would be encouraged to focus their attentions on Alipang.

But no one did show up to arrest him, least of all Fidel North.

 
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