Washington’s monument was missing huge chunks of its marble facade, and parts of its bluestone rubble and concrete innards could be seen like bones through an open wound. It would fall someday, and that seemed appropriate. She’d learned about George Washington in Foundation, and since his country fell, eventually so would his legacy.
Milly led her friends behind the National Mall to the south and down Independence Avenue because the mall was flooded in spots, and the giant buildings of the old government left little cover. Seeing the tokens of the past started Milly thinking of Respite, and Randy. Soon he would take his fire guard test, and she wouldn’t be there to see it. She was no mother, she’d known that the day he was born, yet she hurt inside at his absence. He was a void within her now, and it grew with each passing day. Whether she wanted it or not, she was a mother, and Randy her son. She never should have left him, and she hoped she’d have the opportunity to tell him so.
The capital building rose on their left, and there was an overgrown sign for the Library of Congress. “The national library. It was a complex of buildings designed to house the world’s knowledge and protect it against time and circumstance. Like the Foundation except on a larger scale,” Tye said.
They passed the James Adams Building to their left, and things opened up. The remains of smaller buildings ran on both sides of the road, trees and underbrush packed between the crumbling buildings. Hunks of metal and plastic sat in ordered lines along the old road, and Milly felt more secure undercover in the lost world’s remains. “Do you think anything is left in the library?” Milly said.
“Don’t see why not. If anything, I’d think Argartha would preserve it,” Tester said. “History repeating itself and all that.”
“Should we check it out? Might find something useful?” Tye said.
“We’re so close to the turtle now,” Ingo said. “We can come back later.”
“Ingo is right. Curiosity must wait,” Milly said. As much as she wanted to see books, she needed to see the turtle more. She’d found books in her travels, but they were always burned or missing pages. Most paper books had been consumed by the weather and time, so having access to an unlimited supply would be a dream come true.
“Is it true every book ever written is in there?” Robin said.
“Many of them. As technology changed, more books were produced. Many titles are only indexed or on microfiche or digital files, and who knows what time and lack of temperature control has done to them,” Tester said. “But yeah, they have more than nineteen sacred texts.”
“Microfiche?” Milly said.
“An old form of data compression. They’d put entire books on small clear slides, then you’d put the slide on a machine that magnified it as light shined through it,” Tye said.
“Like an old picture negative,” Tester said.
Milly had no clue what they were talking about. Broken glass crackled underfoot. She’d seen plenty of broken glass, but only a few intact windows. Tye had explained that over time the rubber seals holding the window in its frame became brittle from the changes in temperature, and that eventually a gust of wind blew the window out.
A crow shrieked as it flew overhead and banked hard and came back. It cawed again, and when Milly saw the one-eyed bird land on a pile of stones, she cried out with joy. Larry hooped and squawked, then took flight and headed up the street.
White particles like ash fell from the sky, and Milly held out her hand. “Snow?” she said, and laughed. She’d never seen snow before. It floated lazily, cold and white and mysterious. Robin and Ingo had never seen snow either, and the three danced and laughed as the white stuff covered them. It had been awhile for Tester, also, and Tye had his head back catching flakes in his mouth.
They came to a triangle-shaped intersection with a park nestled in the odd angle where Independence met 7th Avenue. The area was thick with trees and overgrowth, and there was no path. Milly worked her way around to the point of the triangle where the streets crossed because she thought there might be an entrance there. Pepper and Turnip led the way, and the fellowship followed in silence. There was nothing left to say. Above, Larry circled over the small woods.
As figured, they found a thin path that led into the overgrown park, its dark maw unnatural. The trees and underbrush had been cut back recently, and it was clear the path was looked after. Milly went first and only took twenty steps before she hit an open patch.
At the center of the clearing was a huge stone turtle, with three smaller turtles around it. The cement sculptures were dirty and worn. The snow picked up, and large white flakes filled the air. Milly stuck out her tongue, catching the frozen water. The area was maintained, and a clean brick walkway encircled the turtle and its young. A sign that was barely legible said “Turtle Park.”
Milly saw the children frolicking and climbing on the turtle in her mind’s eye. Laughing in the snow and playing games. She stood before the turtle with Tye, Tester, Ingo and Robin, the snow covering them. Pepper and Turnip stood by, and Larry cawed as he streamed in for a landing.
As Ingo had foreseen, they’d made it to the turtle, but Milly saw no sign, or clue, and her stomach turned to ice, doubt gripping her. What if the turtle was a lie? The path of understanding, Argartha, all of it? Part of her had never really believed, and now with the turtle before her, belief still eluded her, and she stood shivering
