'Who says? Who says what shouldn't be fixed?'
He shook his head as if it buzzed. 'The rules. There's a difference between something broken and something sick. Nature must rule in the end.'
She stared at him. 'You let your father die because of
He didn't answer, but she knew it was true.
She turned and walked away, walked home to find her parents talking about it being too long since they'd visited cousin Mike in Erin. Obviously the soothing reports of 'progress' and 'imminent solution' weren't working anymore.
Or the soothing had stopped. When she turned on the Angliacom screen cell, the announcer was talking about the blighters 'swarming.' It made them sound like maniac bees.
Where, then, was the honey?
'However, we will soon see victory in the Hellbane Wars.'
That was the first time she'd heard it officially described as a war.
She knew war. They'd studied it in school. Armies and battles, diplomats and negotiations. One side knew who the other side was, knew what the enemy wanted. If this was war, what did the enemy want? Where were the negotiators with whom they could bargain for mercy?
Then one day a news camera accidentally caught an ashing. The camera was panning a deserted settlement, but then switched to a person in the distance, walking toward the road. The woman, in dusty shirt and trousers, a knapsack over one shoulder, waved and hurried forward, probably hoping for a lift.
Then she looked around as if she'd heard something or caught something out of the corner of her eye. And she became afraid.
Jenny watched, tasting that fear as the woman began to run, calling for help but constantly turning and twisting as if trying to track an enemy. She stumbled, scrambled up, then stopped, frozen, mouth wide in a scream of terror. There was nothing to see of the blighter; not so much as dust stirring in a breeze.
The picture juddered, though, showing the operator's fear. The mike caught his mutters along with the scream. 'Can't do anything. Can't help. God help us. Gotta go. Gotta go…'
But he stayed, holding the camera as steady as he could, to record the anonymous victim's abrupt translation into empty clothing and that small pile of ash.
No explosion, no fire, no wind.
Just dissolution.
Jenny's mother broke down in tears, then declared that they were all leaving, now.
Jenny protested. 'I don't even know cousin Mike.'
'That's not the point, and you know it!' Her mother turned to Jenny's ashen fifteen-year-old brother. 'Charlie, grab some clothes. Not too many.'
'I have work to do,' Jenny said.
'Gaia can live without another brochure or handbook. No, you can't take all those books. Bill!' she yelled to Jenny's father. 'Pack for Charlie, will you? Jenny, love, please. You saw that film. You want to stay for that?'
'I don't think we can run from it, Mum. If the fixers can't stop them, the blighters are going to eat us all.'
'Not my family, they aren't.' Her mother dashed around, gathering little things — photographs, documents. 'Of course the fixers'll fix it. It'll just take a little more time. And during that time it's stupid to stand in the way!'
Jenny helped stuff the things in a bag. 'You're probably right, Mum, but I can't go. I'm sorry.'
She realized then that part of the reason was Dan. She was still angry with him, but she couldn't abandon him.
She helped everyone pack, went with them to the station, and bit back tears as she waved them off. She didn't regret her decision, only her mother's tearful despair.
She wandered back home. Because the house was so empty, she started going to the Merrie every night, though it wasn't very merrie. It was never more than half full, and people often asked for melancholy songs. Rolo and Gyrth had left. Yas was still around, perhaps because she seemed to be attached to Tom now, and he couldn't leave, being a policeman.
So who was with Dan these days? From the look of him the odd time he turned up at the pub, perhaps no one. He was Anglia's sole defense when the blighters arrived. Perhaps she should…
But she felt too fragile now. She thought she'd break under any pressure beyond even Dan Fixer's ability to mend.
Jenny was playing a Scottish lament when she saw the
'In a new move to put an end to the blighters,' an announcer said, 'all the fixers have been called to the front. Reports from Hellbane U…'
'What the heck's 'the front'?' someone asked.
'Old Earth war term,' replied Ozzy. 'The place where one army meets the other. Don't reckon it can be far from here now.'
As if in answer, a map popped up, showing the red tide lapping at Anglia's borders.
'Pap,' Ozzy said, muting the sound again, but he added, 'Perhaps it's time to close the bloody dismal England.'
Jenny could only think that Dan was going to leave. To fight blighters. And Gaia was losing the war.
'Any idea where Dan is, Ozzy?'
'Haven't seem him in a couple of days, luv. Perhaps he's on his way.'
'No.' Could she sense him, or was it wishful thinking?
She left her fiddle there on the bar and went in search. Stupid, stupid, to have kept her distance all these weeks! He was probably right about nature. He'd told her, hoping for understanding, and she'd walked away.
The pubs were quiet, the music somber, and Dan was nowhere to be found. Not in the square, not at his place, not at the hospital. Not at his family's home; his mother and brothers hadn't left but looked as if they already had news of his death.
Jenny stopped outside the house, fighting tears. Weeks ago he'd mentioned the experts from Hellbane U going to help the local fixers in the fight. Since then the blighters had only grown in strength. If the experts had failed, what could simple fixers like Dan do?
Die, that's what.
She remembered another old war term. 'Cannon fodder.'
Perhaps he was already on his way, but she wandered the streets looking for him, hoping against hope that she'd have a chance to say something, do something to help before he left.
Eventually, she gave up, stopping to lean against some railings. Then she realized they were the ones around the Public Gardens — the place where the one solitary blighter had dared to pop up in Anglia.
The perfume of herbs and flowers played sweetly on the night air, and she thought how strange it was that all of this — all the simulations of Earth they'd created — would survive when the people were ash.
4
She turned in through the wrought iron gates and followed the wandering path toward the lake and the statue of the little victim. And there, near the statue, stood Dan, tossing stones into the lake.
Jenny paused, purpose tangling into uncertainty. Perhaps he wanted to be alone. He'd have no trouble finding company if he needed it.
Then he turned and held out a hand. 'Jen.'
There was welcome in it, but there was more. After a teetering moment, she went forward and put her hand in his. 'Are you going to have to go?'
'I am going.'
'You haven't been called?'
