Greg Egan - The Clockwork Rocket

“Never mind,” Eusebio said. “I’ll hire him as a consultant, have him sign a contract.”

Yalda lost patience. “Do you honestly think you can send a whole mountain into the void in secret? Just you, and a few dozen advisers? Maybe you could get that much dead rock off the ground through sheer trial and error, but we’re talking about risking lives! You need the best people in the world to know about this, to think about it—to criticize all your ideas, all your systems, all your strategies. And I do mean the best people, not the best you can afford to put on your payroll and subjugate to a vow of silence.”

“I have enemies,” Eusebio said pointedly. “People who, if they knew of these plans, would happily spend a good part of their own fortune just to see me fail.”

“I don’t care,” Yalda replied coolly, resisting the urge to remind him that she’d suffered far more from his enemies’ pique than he had. “If the travelers are to have any hope of surviving, you’re going to need every biologist, agronomist, geologist, chemist, physicist and engineer on the planet as worried about their fate as you are.”

“And why should they fret about the lives of a few strangers?” Eusebio retorted. “You didn’t seem too eager to spread news of the catastrophe that this trip is intended to forestall.”

“I was wrong,” Yalda admitted. “First I didn’t take my own reasoning seriously, and then I was vain enough to think that if I could see no remedy myself, there was none. You’ve shown me otherwise, and I’m grateful for that. But it can’t end there.”

Eusebio said nothing, his gaze fixed ahead.

“No more silence,” Yalda declared. “I need to make the case for the problem, and you need to make the case for the solution. Let people argue, correct us, support us, tear us down. It’s the only hope we have to get this right.”

When Yalda arrived home Daria was in the apartment, helping Valeria and Valerio infuse some anatomical realism into their sketches of giant lizards laying waste to Zeugma.

“Lizards can rearrange their flesh almost any way they like,” Daria explained, “but they have five favorite postures, which are used in different places for different tasks. If they were on the ground, smashing buildings like this, you can bet they’d have a lot of flesh in their rear legs and their tails. It’s no good drawing them the way they’d look running along a slender twig.”

The children were entranced. Yalda sat and listened, not saying too much, hoping that merely sharing their interest would be read as a sign of affection. When she tried too hard Valeria reacted with scorn, but if she kept her distance she was punished later with accusations of indifference. It was exhausting having to be so calculating about it, but whatever it was that could sometimes make the relationship between a child and their protector almost effortless, it rarely seemed in evidence with Tullia’s children and the three friends who’d agreed to raise them. This was a labor of love, but that didn’t stop it being the hardest thing Yalda had done in her life.

Lidia had taken Amelia and Amelio to the doctor, but they were expected back soon. When the children were asleep tonight, Yalda decided, she would tell Lidia and Daria everything.

They had a right to know the truth—but what if they simply doubted her sanity? Watching Valeria chirping happily as she and Valerio re-drew each other’s lizards in a cascade of jokes and refinements, Yalda felt her own conviction about the peril of the Hurtlers faltering yet again. Whenever she immersed herself in domestic life, instead of apprehending the threat to the people around her more acutely she found herself growing numb and disbelieving. It wasn’t hard to imagine a time when everyone in this household would be gone; with the passage of years that was inevitable. But picturing every woman and every girl that lived having gone the way of men , leaving not a single child to survive them, only made her mind rebel and doubt the entire chain of reasoning that could lead to such an absurd conclusion.

Daria disengaged from the anatomy lesson for a moment to speak to Yalda directly. “There’s a letter for you on the sideboard.”

“Thanks.” Yalda judged the artists sufficiently engrossed not to care if she briefly left the audience.

The letter was from Lucia. Yalda had written to her several times since her last visit to the farm, but their correspondence had been intermittent.

She uncapped the wooden tube, tugged out the rolled-up sheets and smoothed them flat. Some of the symbols were a bit shaky, as if Lucia had been unable to keep the ridges still when she pressed the paper to her skin.

My dear sister Yalda

I’m sorry that it’s been so long since I last wrote to you. I’m sorry, too, that you haven’t been able to visit us yet and see the new farm, but I understand that you must be busy, taking care of your friend Tullia’s children as well as continuing your work at the university. (You won’t be surprised to hear that when I finally told Giusto about the children he denied that such a thing was possible, and said you needed to hunt down the derelict co or co-stead responsible!)

Claudio and his children joined us on the new farm a couple of stints ago. It’s lovely to have so many people around after all these years on our own. We never stopped visiting the old place, of course, but since tradition demands that the two farms are more than a separation apart, it hasn’t been too often.

The main reason I’m writing to you now is to tell you that this will be my last letter. I remember how hurt and saddened you were that you had no news or warning about Aurelia and Claudia, and I wanted it to be different for us. So: tomorrow I will become a mother.

I would be lying if I told you that I wasn’t afraid, but I’m also filled with great hope and happiness, knowing that Lucio and I have done our best to prepare for the children’s future. The farm is very well established, and we have plenty of money saved, so while the young cousins work under their father’s watchful eye, Lucio will mostly be free to take care of the children. (And please don’t be angry with him, this is my decision as much as it is his.)

Do you have the same beautiful shooting stars there in Zeugma that we have here? I know you’re studying these things, so it must be an exciting time for you. I can’t believe how glorious they look, even during the day, and it’s rather strange and wonderful to think of my children growing up to take such sights for granted. They’ll be amazed to hear from their father that there was once a time when the sky was so much emptier!

Your sister Lucia

11

The morning after her first appearance with Eusebio in the Variety Hall, Yalda woke early and went out to see what the papers had made of it.

A boy on a nearby corner was selling City Skin , so she bought a copy, but after flicking through the sheets three times it was clear that the end of the world didn’t rate a mention here. She went back to ask the boy for Talk ; he’d sold out, so she waited while he dusted his chest with dye and made a fresh one for her.

“I’ll pay you the same for just the news and entertainment sections,” she offered impatiently.

“We’re not allowed to do that,” he said, summoning the memory of another sheet onto his chest.

“Why not?”

“The advertisers don’t like it.”

When he’d finished, Yalda took the whole bundle from him and walked around the corner before discarding the financial advice, restaurant reviews and railway timetables. She had to search the remainder twice before she found what she was looking for.

Last night our spies were at the Variety Hall, where the preternaturally plump Professor Yalda regaled a non-paying (!) audience with news of civilization’s impending demise. In a performance mixing the illusionist’s art with the terrors of geometry, the bountifully bulky Professor attempted to tie fleet-footed Mother Time in knots, leaving many observers wondering at her motives.