Butler, Octavia - Parable of the Sower

Sacramento was all right to resupply in and hurry through. Water and food were cheap there compared to what you could buy along the roadside, of course. Cities were always a relief as far as prices went. But cities were also dangerous. More gangs, more cops, more suspicious, nervous people with guns. You tiptoe through cities. You keep up a steady pace, keep your eyes open, and try to look both too intimidating to bother and invisible. Neat trick. Bankole says cities have been like that for a long time.

Speaking of Bankole, I haven’t let him get much rest on this rest day. He doesn’t seem to mind. He did say something that I should make note of, though.

He said he wanted me to leave the group with him.

He has, as I suspected, a safe haven— or as safe as any haven can be that isn’t surrounded by high-tech security devices and armed guards. It’s in the hills on the coast near Cape Mendocino maybe two weeks from here.

“My sister and her family have been living there,” he said. “But the property belongs to me. There’s room on it for you.”

I could imagine how delighted his sister would be to see me. Would she try to be polite, or would she stare at me, then at him, then demand to know whether he was in his right mind?

“Did you hear what I said?” he demanded.

I looked at him, interested in the anger I heard in his voice. Why anger?

“What am I doing? Boring you?” he demanded.

I took his hand and kissed it. “You introduce me to your sister and she’ll measure you for a straitjacket.”

After a while, he laughed. “Yes.” And then, “I don’t care.”

“What does she do for a living? Farm the land?”

“Yes, and her husband does odd jobs for cash-which is dangerous because it leaves her and the children alone for days, weeks, even months at a time. If we can manage to support ourselves without becoming a drain on her few resources, we might be useful to her. We might give her more security.”

“How many kids?”

“Three. Let’s see…eleven, thirteen, and fifteen years old by now. She’s only forty herself.” His mouth twitched. Only. Yeah. Even his little sister was old enough to be my mother. “Her name’s Alex.

Alexandra. Married to Don Casey. They both hate cities. They thought my land was a godsend. They could raise children who might live to grow up.” He nodded. “And their children have done all right.”

“How have you kept in touch?” I asked. “Phone?”

“That was part of our agreement,” he said. “They don’t have a phone, but when Don goes to one of the towns to get work, he phones me and lets me know how everyone is. He won’t know what’s happened to me. He won’t be expecting me. If he’s tried to phone, both he and Alex will be worried.”

“You should have flown up,” I said. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Are you? So am I. Listen, you are coming with me. I can’t think of anything I want as much as I want you.

I haven’t wanted anything at all for a long time. Too long.”

I leaned back against a tree. Our campsite wasn’t as completely private as the one at San Luis had been, but there were trees, and the couples could get away from each other. Each couple had one gun, and the Gilchrist sisters were baby-sitting Dominic as well as Justin. We had put them in the middle of a rough triangle and given them my gun. On I-5 they and Travis had had a chance to do a little target practice. It was all of our duty to look around now and then and make sure no strangers wandered into the area. I looked around.

Sitting up I could see Justin running around, chasing pigeons. Jill was keeping an eye on him, but not trying to keep up with him.

Bankole took me by the shoulders and turned me to face him. “I’m not boring you, am I?” He asked for the second time.

I had been trying not to look at him. I looked now, but he had not yet said what he had to say if he wanted to keep me with him. Did he know? I thought he did.

“I want to go with you,” I said. “But I’m serious about Earthseed. I couldn’t be more serious. You have to understand that.” Why did this sound strange to me?

It was the absolute truth, but I felt odd telling it.

“I know my rival,” he said.

Maybe that’s why it sounded strange. I was telling

him there was someone else— something else.

Maybe it would have sounded less strange if the something were another man.

“You could help me,” I said.

“Help you what? Do you have any real idea what you want to do?”

“Begin the first Earthseed Community.”

He sighed.

“You could help me,” I repeated. “This world is falling apart. You could help me begin something purposeful and constructive.”

“Going to fix the world, are you?” he said with quiet amusement.

I looked at him. For a moment I was too angry to let myself speak. When I could control my voice, I said, “It’s all right if you don’t believe, but don’t laugh. Do you know what it means to have something to believe in? Don’t laugh.”

After a while he said, “All right.”

After a longer while, I said, “Fixing the world is not what Earthseed is about.”

“The stars. I know.” He lay flat on his back, but turned his head to look at me instead of looking up.

“This world would be a better place if people lived according to Earthseed,” I said. “But then, this world would be better if people lived according to the teachings of almost any religion.”

“That’s true. Why do you think they’ll live according

to the teaching of yours?”

“A few will. Several thousand? Several hundred thousand? Millions? I don’t know. But when I have a home base, I’ll begin the first community. In fact, I’ve already begun it.”

“Is that what you need me for?” He didn’t bother to smile or pretend it was a joke. It wasn’t. I moved over closer to him and sat next to him so that I could look down into his face.

“I need you to understand me,” I said. “I need you to take me the way I am or go off to your land by yourself.”

“You need me to take you and all your friends off the street so you can start a church.” Again, he was altogether serious.

“That or nothing,” I said with equal seriousness. He gave me a humorless smile. “So now we know where we stand.”

I smoothed his beard, and saw that he wanted to move away from my hand, but that he did not move.

“Are you all that sure you want God as your rival?” I asked.

“I don’t seem to have much choice, do I?” He covered my caressing hand with one of his own.

“Tell me, do you ever lose your temper and scream and cry?”

“Sure.”

“I can’t picture it. In all honesty, I can’t.”

And that reminded me of something that I hadn’t told him, had better tell him before he found out and felt cheated or decided that I didn’t trust him— which I still didn’t, quite. But I didn’t want to lose him to stupidity or cowardice. I didn’t want to lose him at all.

“Still want me with you?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I intend to marry you once we’ve settled.”

23

Your teachers

Are all around you.

All that you perceive,

All that you experience,

All that is given to you

or taken from you,

All that you love or hate,

need or fear

Will teach youŃ

If you will learn.

God is your first

and your last teacher.

God is your harshest teacher:

subtle,

demanding.

Learn or die.

EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2027

We had another battle to try to sleep through before dawn this morning. It began to the south of us out on or near the highway, and worked its way first toward, then away from us.