Divergence

“Why are we doing this?” Ivan asked. “Why do we have to come out here at dawn to sing songs and play music? Why do we not just stay indoors and continue drinking?”

“Because,” said Eva, “it’s tradition. Anyway, it’s an excuse to keep drinking for longer. That should appeal to you.”

“Hah,” Ivan said, “I am going to miss your teasing when I return home.”

“No you’re not.”

“Don’t mock me,” Ivan said. “Don’t tell me what I will do. I will miss you, Eva.”

“No, you won’t .” Eva took a deep breath. She had been thinking about this all night and had been too scared of saying it, for fear of making it real. But now was the time. “Ivan,” she whispered, “I’m coming with you.”

She could hear his intake of breath; she could see the look on his face, the way that he couldn’t help smiling, the way he tried to frown at the same time as he attempted to understand. She could see all of this in the dim light; see it as it gradually gained definition in the false dawn.

“But why, Eva?” he managed to splutter. “Why have you changed your mind? I thought you didn’t want to go back into that world. You were afraid of returning to the control of the Watcher.”

“I still am.” She took a deep breath and continued firmly. “But I don’t want, I will not have, the Watcher running my life, even by default.”

Ivan took her hand, beaming with delight. “Thank you, Eva. Thank you.”

“You’re crying,” Eva said.

“Hah, you English! I am not ashamed of my emotions.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Why change your mind? Why now—why not before?”

“I don’t know,” Eva said. “There are lots of reasons. I want to see my daughter again. I want to visit her.” But that wasn’t the truth. A vision of the scene in the hall flashed through her head, the handicapped boy shuffling past the golden child. The divergence that existed in humanity, and yet everyone still recognizably human. That was part of it.

“I…I want to do what I can.” Eva frowned. “I don’t think I can really explain.”

“That’s okay,” Ivan said, pulling her close and stroking her hair. “There will be time later on.”

I don’t think I could explain, even later on, thought Eva. I wanted to be free, so I tried to kill myself. The Watcher said it, all that time ago: “You fought for the right to live your life your own way, even if it meant killing yourself.” That’s why he thinks he needs me. Why does he have this yearning to understand freedom and personal responsibility, when all he wants to do is to control us? Will we ever be free to control ourselves?

There was a yellow glow appearing over the distant hills. The sun was coming. Veni Creator Spiritus. Some of the assembled people were singing those words now, half whispered. Some residents of the Narkomfin claimed to worship the sun as the life-giver. But it was just a pose, an affectation. All of the band now held their instruments, warming them up. Paper music was clipped into lyres. The conductor took his place. The sun was coming.

Ivan stood behind Eva, his big arms wrapped around her body, and she felt his warmth.

“They are going to play,” Ivan said. “Go on, tell me, what is life?”

Eva put her hands on his arms and cuddled him closer to her.

“Ivan, life is just a reflection of ourselves. We look at something, and see part of ourselves in it, and call it life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that we put life into the objects we see. We look at a kitten and we look at a rock, and if we see enough of ourselves reflected back, we say the object is alive.”

“Hah, yes!”