Terry Pratchett - Nation

The prow of the ship had hit squarely between two of the giant fig trees and its figurehead had been wedged, unseen and unscathed, while the ship collapsed behind her.

A couple of the sailors had nailed the figurehead over the door, to the approval of all except the king, who wondered aloud if her undressed bosom might be considered unseemly. He hadn’t understood why everyone had laughed, but he had been pleased that they had. It had made up for the Big See.

Now Daphne looked up at her for the last time. There was a faint smile on the wooden lips, and someone had put a garland of flowers around her neck.

Daphne curtsied to her, because if any nonliving thing had earned respect, it had been the Judy. Daphne had been taught to curtsy years ago, and on the island it had been a skill less useful than ice skating, but just this once it was exactly the right thing to do.

A boat waited on the edge of the lagoon. It had been waiting for some time. The crowd had wandered off, because there is only so long you can wave and shout at something that isn’t in any hurry to move, and a certain boredom sets in. In any case, Cahle had tactfully and not so tactfully got the islanders to wander back up to the fields. She knew when people, come to think of it, needed space. Besides, Daphne had said all her good-byes last night, at the big feast, and the king had been the only trouserman there to be given the sunset wave tattoo, and everyone had laughed and cried. The Gentlemen of Last Resort had carried the king back to their ship only a few hours ago, because he was, they said, “a little under the weather,” which is a code meaning “too much beer.”

Now, apart from a dog warming up in the sun, it was as though she had the place to herself, but she would have bet anything that hundreds of eyes were watching her from the fields.

She looked at the beach. There was the waiting boat, and there was Mau, standing where he always did, with his spear. He glanced up as she approached, with the faint half smile he wore when he was uncertain of things.

“Everyone else is on board,” he said.

“I will be back,” Daphne said.

Mau drew squiggles on the sand with the end of his spear. “Yes, I know,” he said.

“No, I really mean it.”

“Yes. I know.”

“You sound as if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you. But you sound as if you don’t.”

Daphne looked down at the sand. “Yes, I know,” she said meekly. “Father’s going to send Grandmother to be our ambassador to the ReUnited States, now that she’s feeling better. She’s worked out that she’ll be able to lord it over all the snooty Bostonians, so she’s trying not to seem pleased. I suppose really she will be ladying it, which is probably worse. And, well, he hasn’t got anyone else… oh, except for lots of courtiers and the government and the people of the Empire, of course, but they won’t know him as himself, d’you see, but just as a face under a crown. Oh, it’s all so wretched. But Father needs me.”

“Yes, he does,” said Mau.

Daphne glared at him. It was stupid to think like this, but she’d wanted him to argue… well, not argue, more like protest… well… not protest, exactly, more like… be disappointed. It’s hard to talk to someone who understands. She gave up and, only then, noticed his arm.

“What happened to you?” she said. “That looks horrible!”

“It’s just bruising. I got tattooed too after the feast last night. Look.”

She looked. On Mau’s left wrist was a little blue hermit crab.

“That’s very good!”

“Milo did it. And on this arm… ” He turned to show her.

“The sunset wave,” said Daphne. “Oh, I’m so glad you decided to have it done at — ”

“Look again, ghost girl,” said Mau, smiling.

“What? Er… oh, the wave is going the wrong way.”

“The right way. It’s the sunrise wave, and we are its children, and we will not go into the dark again. I vow it. It’s a new world. It needs new people. And you are right. Your father is a good man, but he needs you more than… this island does.”

“Well, I think — ”

“He needs your strength,” Mau went on. “I’ve watched you together. You give his world a shape. He will give your poor nation a shape. You must be with him on that ship. You must be by his side. In your heart you know this. You will have a purpose. People will listen.” He took her hand. “I told you Imo made many worlds. I told you that sometimes I think I can see a little way into the world where the wave did not happen. Well, now you will get onto that ship, or… you won’t. Whatever you choose, your choice will mean there are two new worlds. And perhaps sometimes, on the edge of sleep, we will see the shadow of the other world. There will be no unhappy memories.”

“Yes, but — ”

“No more words. We know them all, all the words that should not be said. But you have made my world more perfect.”

Frantically, Daphne sought for something to reply, and came up with: “The bandage on Mrs. Whi-ara’s leg should come off tomorrow. Er, I still don’t like the look of Caah-a’s hand; the Wren’s surgeon said he thought it was getting better, but it’s worth waking up Mrs. Gurgle to have a look at it. Oh, and don’t let her fool you — she can’t chew meat with those gold teeth, so someone else needs to do it, and… I’m getting this wrong, aren’t I…?”

Mau laughed. “How can that be wrong?” He kissed her on the cheek, a little clumsily, and went on: “And now we both walk away, without regrets, and when we meet again, it will be as old friends.”

Daphne nodded and blew her nose on her last good handkerchief.

And the ship sailed away.

And Mau went fishing. He owed a fish to Nawi.

IN A CORNER OF the office, a seismograph ticked away quietly to itself.

The old man stopped talking to watch a flying boat land on the lagoon. “Ah, that will be young Jason, who’s come to work on the Submillimeter Array.” He sighed. “I’m sure they’re doing wonderful things over there, but between ourselves I’ve never been happy with a telescope you can’t look into. Sorry, where was I?” he said.

The boy and the girl stared at him. “You said the ship sailed away?” said the boy.

“Oh, yes,” said the old man. “That was it. The ship sailed away. It’s what they do.”

“And?” said the boy.

“That was all of it. The ship sailed away.”

“And they didn’t get married or anything?” said the girl, looking truly shocked.

“Oh no,” said the old man. “Well, they didn’t get married. I’m not so sure about ‘anything.’ A kiss or two, maybe?”

“But that’s just no way to end a story,” said the boy. “He went fishing!”

“But it’s the kind of ending you get in real life,” said the old man, “and isn’t the story about being real? Though I’ve always thought he went fishing so that people wouldn’t see him cry. He must have felt very lonely. ‘If you will sacrifice,’ Mau said later, ‘then sacrifice your time on the altar of the common good. Eat the fish, or give it to someone who is hungry.’”

He looked at their downcast expressions, coughed gently, and said, “A ship did come back.”

“And the ghost girl was on it, wasn’t she?” said the girl.

“Oh yes,” said the old man. “About a year later.”

“Ah, I knew it!” said the girl triumphantly.

“And the telescope?” asked the boy.

“Certainly! A sixteen-inch Newtonian telescope was one of the first things they unloaded! That night everyone looked through it!” said the old man. “And there were all the things that had been on the list and six gentlemen from the Royal Society, just as promised.” The old man smiled broadly as he recalled. “Of course, we’ve had quite a few scientists since then. My father told me that Mr. Einstein sat in this very chair and played the violin. An interesting little fact is that my father accompanied him on the drum, and the effect was considered… unusual. I myself was privileged to accompany Sir Patrick Moore and Professor Richard Feynman when they were up here together. Xylophone, bongos, and war drum. Wonderful! Very musical people, scientists. And I was very proud to shake the hand of Professor Carl Sagan when he came here with people from the electric television. Do you remember that the ghost girl thought the glass beads on the ceiling of the cave were a star map, but she couldn’t work it out? The professor showed the world that it did indeed map the stars, but the stars as they were thirty-one thousand years ago, and that was confirmed by something called Fission Track Dating of the glass our little toy stars were made of. We’re learning new things all the time. I can’t recall how many astronauts came here. Interestingly, although several of them went to the moon, none of them met the lady who lives there.”