The Unincorporated Future (60 page)

When the Grand Collapse was near its height, the bombs had started to fall. But in the case of the bombs that had destroyed Varanasi, Rome, Jerusalem, Mecca, Medina, and Qom, it was not only the fact that bombs had been used, but also that they’d been dirty bombs, designed to make a lasting impression. In the case of the holy sites, that impression would last about ten thousand years—or how long it would be until a human could visit the site unprotected from radioactive fallout. Although the human race had the technology to clean these sites up, it was decided to leave them alone as a warning to the folly of religious belief.

So when after two years of peace between the USF and the Outer Alliance, requests were made for the right to visit and remove certain artifacts from certain holy sites, the authorities on Earth were not at all concerned, just curious. If religious trinkets and baubles kept the Alliance happy, the consensus was that they could take all the fused glass they wanted. It turned out the consensus was not far off, as the faithful had wanted a lot of it.

Before the first Alliance Colonization Fleet was due to set out for Alpha Centauri, parties of religious interest were allowed to visit and had been promised to be given every consideration. But Rabbi seemed to attract particular interest. Of all the religious leaders, Rabbi represented the smallest but oldest group. And he was not only a Rabbi; he was
the
Rabbi who had once been a powerful Alliance Cabinet secretary until his recent retirement a year prior. He’d been the first to officially retire from Sandra’s Cabinet, and it was widely known that she hadn’t been pleased about it. Especially given that the Exodus was the biggest and farthest relocation in the history of the human race. But in one of Sandra’s rare defeats, Rabbi had refused, feeling that now that humanity’s survival had been assured, the survival of his people should necessarily occupy the bulk of his attention.

Which was how he found himself standing with an entire company of USF combat engineers and one facilitator from the government.

“I want to thank you for your help, Minister Sobbelgé.”

Irma looked at this latest publicity opportunity and smiled. “Anything we can do to help the Alliance and its faithful, Rabbi.”

“Don’t you mean anything you can do to help the Alliance and its faithful … leave?”

Irma laughed politely. “There’s a certain amount of truth to that. But I think of it more as penance.”

“Now
that
is an interesting term.”

“Don’t you mean, Rabbi, that is an interesting
religious
term?”

Rabbi pulled at his beard. “Why do I get the feeling I’m being trifled with?”

“Trust me, Rabbi,” sighed Irma, “my days of trifling are behind me.”

“Then may you find great comfort and may the blessing of the Lord shine upon you.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” said Irma, “from whoever’s offering.”

“Pardon my asking…”

“Yes?”

“But are you not doing the same job you have always done?”

“Your point?”

“Presumably, you seek penance for the acts committed under your previous job. Yet you still maintain the same job title.”

“Maybe the same job, Rabbi, but not for the same purpose. For the longest time, I thought I should use my ability and position to ensure the survival of the system I most believed in. Where Justin Cord had been divisive, I felt incorporation to be inclusive. But at some point, my talent was no longer being used to persuade, but rather to frighten and cajole—to spread hate, fear, and lies. By the time I realized the enormity of my mistake, not with regards to incorporation but with regards to whom I’d allowed to lead it, it was too late. I lived in fear of my life, and I freely admit I was too weak to stand up for what I believed in. Standing up brought death, and I thought as long as I stayed next to Hektor, I’d be safe—a ship in the eye of the storm. I have to live with what I’ve done, Rabbi, and it’s not easy, I can assure you. I guess this is the long way of saying that while my title is the same, I now try to promote the virtues I initially lambasted: forgiveness, acceptance, and hope. My mission, Rabbi, is to try to undo as much of the damage I was responsible for. And I’m so very grateful that I’ve been given that opportunity, with the blessing of our President, mind you.”

“Madam Minister, you do realize that there is another way to get the forgiveness you seek.”

“I’m all ears, Rabbi.”

“You just have to ask for it.”

Irma laughed at the simplicity and elegance of Rabbi’s solution. “I’ll keep that in mind, Rabbi. In the meantime, I’m determined to make sure the people of the USF see that the religious are not crazed fanatics as my previous campaigns would have had them believe but rather spiritual beings seeking mementos from home before you leave us forever.”

Rabbi’s face suddenly went a little sheepish. “About that. We were hoping to take with us a little more than mementos.”

Irma looked over to the globular hill. “What’s in that mound that you want?”

“We don’t want what’s
in
the mound, Madam Minister. We want the mound itself.”

“The mound,” said Irma. “The whole mound?”

Rabbi nodded. “At some point, we Jews will be called upon to rebuild the Holy Temple. When that day comes, I’d like to know that we’ll be ready.”

“You do realize it’s going to be radioactive for ten thousand years.”

“We’ll wait,” replied Rabbi with dry smile, as if he were picking up a food order.

“Does that mean the Muslims will want all of Mecca?”

“Tawfik and Fatima will take only what is needed to reestablish the Kaaba on another world or worlds. But these are issues we will deal with on the trip out.”

Rabbi’s DijAssist informed him of a call. He looked to Irma. “Please excuse me, Madam Minister.”

“Binyamin,” Rabbi whispered harshly into his DijAssist, “I’m with a very important person. Are you sure this can’t wait?”

“Forgive me, Mahagaw,” said the voice, using the name of respect accorded him by the Jews, “but the Beit Din requires your wisdom concerning a conversion.”

Rabbi sighed. The issue of conversion was the most pressing he’d had to deal with, given all the people who were interested in joining “the oldest of the faiths,” which, thought Rabbi, might not even be true or, from a spiritual standpoint, particularly relevant.

“What is it now, Binyamin, that it couldn’t wait till organzing the Kotel and the Mount’s removal had been agreed to?” Rabbi looked over to Irma and shrugged his shoulders apologetically. “That they couldn’t wait till
I
was in orbit?”

“They could wait, Mahagaw, but they thought you’d want to know at once.”

“Is it someone controversial? Don’t tell me Miss Goldstein has finally changed her mind,” he said with just a hint of hope in his voice.

“No, Mahagaw, far more interesting.”

“Well, Binyamin, I’m not getting any younger. What makes this conversion so interesting that the Beit Din felt I must be informed at once? That it takes precedence over bringing back whatever’s left of the Holy of Holies? That makes this person out of all the hundreds of thousands so much more important?”

“She’s an avatar, Mahagaw.”

“Oy,” was the only sound that escaped Rabbi’s lips.

Jerusalem
Earth
USF

Irma watched as the last of the giant mounds of fused glass was placed into the cargo bed of a large military hauler, vacuum sealed, and then driven off to the nearest orport. The Jews, Muslims, and Christians would have their relics, and she’d have her piece documenting their incredible journey of faith. When she was certain she was alone, she pulled out her DijAssist and placed a call she once swore she’d never make again. When the call was accepted, she almost cried, and when she heard the voice at the other end, she actually did.

“Irma,” said Michael Veritas, joy evident in his voice. “My goodness, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Michael, I…”

“Yes?”

“I could really use your help.…”

“Of course, Irma, what is it you need?”

Irma wiped away her tears, staring out at the remains of the holy city. “Forgiveness.”

New York City
Earth
USF

“And so it is with great pride I stand on this land reclaimed from the Atlantic,” said President Trang. “This land that was once known as Central Park
will
be a park again. But it will no longer be Central Park. It hasn’t been very central for a while now.” This brought a smattering of polite laughter. “Instead it will be called Sambianco Park for the President who tried his best for us and eventually showed us the path out of oblivion. Even though all we have here is a saltwater swamp, barely reclaimed from the ocean, I wish to dedicate a statue to our heroic President as a token of the trees, grass, paths, and lakes that will someday be here.” With those words, Trang deactivated the opacity field around the statue he had commissioned. It showed a powerful figure forced down to his knees and one hand, with the other hand outstretched. The statue showed a man who did not want to lie down, who still had so much to do and was anguished that he’d never get to do it. That he was on his knees and would never rise again.

Trang smiled as he saw the statue and heard the polite comments of how it captured the true soul of the old President. He knew that Hektor would have hated it. When Trang had spent the appropriate amount of time in the ghost town that was now New York, he gratefully flew away to the provisional capital in Boulder, Colorado. As he looked back at the old city, he knew in his heart it was finished. They would drain it and build some parks, but they were not ever going to restrain the Hudson again. If the city had a million residents in ten years, he’d be grateful.

But his mind soon left the dim past as he prepared to meet the future. With full pomp and ceremony, the President of the USF, Samuel U. Trang, met the Chancellor of the Belter League, Mosh McKenzie. They saluted, then they bowed, and then at Mosh’s insistence, they even shook hands. Trang didn’t mind. He knew Mosh had a constituency he had to work with in the Belt just as Trang had one he had to work with in the Core. But after the polite necessities had been attended to, they found themselves alone and in a room ready to talk.

“Allow me to congratulate you on your
actual
election to the Presidency,” Mosh said as they both sat down with drinks in hand.

“I must admit, I feel better having won the election fair and square. It never sat right simply taking it by military fiat.”

“You did what you had to with an unjust situation. I’m sadly familiar with that.”

Trang bowed sympathetically. “May I ask a delicate question, Chancellor?”

“Mr. President, I’m only Chancellor till the USF gets around to absorbing us. So ask what you want, as long as you call me Mosh.”

“In that case, call me Sam.”

Mosh smiled politely.

“When you attempted the coup, you did so with the belief that Sandra O’Toole would kill us all?”

“At the time, Sam, there was no doubt in my mind. Far as I was concerned, she’d gone well off the reservation. She did Mars behind Joshua’s back!”

“But Sandra O’Toole is also the one who ended up saving us, Mosh. The human race, in fact. Both houses, incorporated and unincorporated, now have a chance to grow and survive—all because of her. Can you admit you were wrong? And if you were, do you regret it?”

“It?”

“The coup attempt.”

Mosh gave Trang a sideways look. “That’s an interesting question, Sam.”

“Indulge me if you will.”

“Was I wrong?” Mosh pondered the question. “Yeah, maybe I was. She fooled us all, and maybe I should have trusted her. As to the second question, do I regret it? No, sir, not one bit. I hate the getting there, but I like the way things turned out. The Alliance is leaving, and the solar system belongs to incorporation, though hopefully one that is more restrained. I was able to save a lot of lives in the asteroid belt, and who knows if it wasn’t my attempted coup that caused her to change course. But I’m curious as to why a President feels the need to ask such a question of a soon-to-be private citizen.”

“Yes,” said Trang, “I understand you’re looking to get your old job back at the Boulder Revival Clinic.”

Mosh nodded.

“The answer is because I need to get a sense of you, Mosh. If I’m going to be trusting you with the human race, it’s those odd little questions that tell me more about a man than the obvious ones.”

Mosh eyed Trang suspiciously. “What do you mean, trust me with humanity? In case you haven’t noticed, I didn’t do such a good job when I did have a great deal of power.”

“On the contrary, Mosh, I think you did great. Oh, not the results, but your intention was the best of the war.”

“Fat lot of good my intentions did,” said Mosh in a tone that belied the harshness of the words.