The Aftermath

amounts of information—speech, music, pictures—are generated, transmitted, received, unscrambled, and amplified. The result has been a cornucopia of fabulous products—radio, television, cellular telephones, whatever your heart desires, and more.

Isaac Newton said that if he could see farther than others it was because he stood on the shoulders of giants. Just so should we here in Engineering Village pay homage to the giants who preceded us: Volta, Faraday, Maxwell, Hertz, Tesla, Marconi, and many others. I fancy, not that our engineers stand on their shoulders, but rather that these great men were advance members of our surviving party, scouts who landed on the beach before we arrived, planting their banners in the sand, claiming the land on behalf of a renewed high civilization.

When later that evening I shared some of these thoughts with my Focus Group friends, they were far from overwhelmed. “It’s just physics,” Roxy said. “Let’s not get carried away.”

“Gimme a break,” I protested, “I’m not talking about the ultimate meaning of life. I’m referring to a magnificent human achievement. I’m celebrating the genius and insight that enables us to do the most extraordinarily wonderful things.”

“Like snoop on our neighbors,” Herb said.

“And make atom bombs,” Roxy said.

Tom threw up his hands. “What’s with you guys all of a sudden?” he fumed. “I thought you had a sense of respect for the natural world.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Roxy. “All those invisible rays. I suddenly feel like we’re drowning in them.”

Tom turned to me: “You may have to fine-tune your presentation, Wil. I don’t think you’re getting through to this audience the way you had hoped.”

I grimaced and shook my head until Mary came to my defense.

“This is God’s universe,” she said. “Without agitated atoms emitting electromagnetic radiation, there would be no plants, no life, no anything. The fact that we’ve come to understand something about these phenomena—and to use them to good effect—that’s cause for pride and humility and veneration.”

Herb and Roxy leaned forward and seemed to be composing their retorts when Sarah held up her hand and, like a kindergarten teacher faced with an unruly class, called “time-out.” Then she said, “I don’t think we need to be arguing about this. There are plenty of ways in which we can relate to the universe, and let’s agree that in such matters it’s each to his own. As for me, I find consolation—and inspiration—in art.”

Then, turning toward me, she added, “And in love.”

“And,” Mary said, “in faith.”

“And”—now it was Tom joining in—“I would say, creative work.”

“And in fun,” Roxy said, her spirits rising.

“And in debunking whatever and whomever we please,” Herb said, pugnacious but smiling.

It was my turn to say something, but there seemed nothing left to say. Then, suddenly, a thought came to me, fleeting and more mysterious in origin than the electromagnetic waves we had been considering. I heard myself say: “And in marrying and having children.”

That ended the evening’s debate.

12

It was well past midnight when Wil Hardy was roused unceremoniously and ordered to report to a special, secret meeting called by the Coordinating Committee. Secret? This was a first. By a firm consensus, both Inlanders and Outlanders had agreed that, although not every meeting would be open to everyone, there would be no secret committees formed or secret decisions taken by anyone in a position of authority—ever. So, this development was alarming to Wilson Hardy, Jr., and he would be sure to speak to his father about it at the earliest opportunity. Meanwhile, he was gripped by nervous excitement as he threw on some clothes, assured the half-asleep Sarah that he would be back shortly, and ran off into the night.

There were about forty men and women gathered for this post-midnight meeting, and the recording secretary recognized all of them, except two who looked like natives from some foreign island—Africans perhaps, yet somehow different. He couldn’t immediately put his finger on it—that is, how they were different—and he was quickly distracted by his father and Captain Nordstrom, who signaled for him to join them.

“Son, we need you to take notes, here, but you cannot share anything about this meeting with your friends, even with Sarah. We must have your word on this.”

“Sure, Dad, but why? What the heck is going on, anyway?”

Dr. Wilson whispered hoarsely: “Just listen and take accurate notes. I don’t mean to be so cryptic, son, but you’ll soon see why.”

Captain Nordstrom was solemn as he opened the proceedings. “I call to order this special meeting of the Expanded Defense Committee, as authorized by the Coordinating Committee. Although Dr. Hardy or I have spoken to each of you privately, I must say for the record”—he shot a stern glance at Wil—“I must say that what we discuss here shall remain completely confidential. We do this not to exclude anyone, of either community, but rather to prevent rumors and alarm from spreading among the people. Is this understood and accepted by everyone?”

Wil Hardy looked up from his notetaking. Expanded Defense Committee? Rumors and alarm? He thought about Sarah asleep in their little shelter. There was something ominous afoot, and he had an urge to run back and hold her in his arms. But clearly he had to stay in place to do his job. He started to scribble in his own form of shorthand, afraid to miss a single word of the discussion.

All of the attendees indicated their assent, and Nordstrom went on: “Several hours ago, two men from Madagascar landed about ten miles from here and found their way to us by following the shoreline. They were lucky they chose to walk in this direction. If they had not—that is, if they had walked north instead of south—they could have been lost for days, or forever. Our security detail encountered them and brought them to me. One of these gentlemen began to speak to me in French, which, it turns out, was the official language of Madagascar during the French colonial period. Neither of them speaks English, so French it shall be. They have been fed and given water. They are exhausted and dehydrated, but otherwise healthy.

“I have asked two of our experts to help us: Richard Frost, a recognized authority on the history and culture of Madagascar; and Rene Picard, a nuclear engineer graduate of the Ecole Polytech nique, who is one of the most eminent members of the French engineering establishment Dr. Picard, of course, is a native French speaker who will serve as our translator.”

“A votre service,” Picard said with a slight salute.

Wilson Hardy, Sr., stood and spoke. “These two men escaped from an apparently terrible situation on the island of Madagascar. The young man is a fisherman and mechanic who was able to operate the motorboat that brought them here. The elderly gentleman is Pascal Ralaimongo, a schoolteacher and respected patriarch of his village. We have asked him to describe for us the conditions existing in his homeland. Mr. Ralaimongo, if you please.”

Young Will Hardy, looking closely now at the “refugees,” realized that the facial characteristics he could not quite identify were Malayan, and he immediately thought of the pirate crew that had been described by Harry McIntosh and his fellow fishermen. Yet these two men were obviously not pirates. In fact, both smiled in friendship, obviously grateful that they had made it to this safe haven. Ralaimongo was a small, stooped man, with narrow shoulders and wispy gray hair. He wore a multicolored polyester shirt with long sleeves and only a few surviving buttons. His canvas trousers were worn and stained, and frayed rope held the soles of his sandals to his feet. After expressing his thanks to these kind people, he told them his story, through Picard.

It seemed that the northern part of the large island of Madagascar had been consumed by flames from the sky, and then wildfires had spread through most of the south. As in South Africa, the tsunamis had devastated all coastal communities. But, in contrast to the Ulundi Circle, where farms and livestock areas in the highlands had been spared providentially, in Madagascar the inferno and the floods had destroyed crops and animals as well as