Chapter 39

 

Pennsylvania, August 29, 2005 CE

 

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Long ago, before Rufus—before my solitary madness, when I still dwelt amongst people but knew I was not of them—during that time, there was a woman. She was older, in her forties and still in remarkably good health. Her life was tragic; her mate dead, her children all lost in such a brief span of years they seemed to pass in but an eye blink. But she lived amongst good people and she had their sympathy, their support, even their love.

This woman, she suffered her losses and misfortune with the stoicism common amongst peoples of that time and place. Every day she made herself useful and none could call her a burden. Nonetheless there was emptiness in her, for the community in which she dwelt could not hold her as her family had. She looked about her and felt a longing for what she had lost and eventually that longing became too great for her to resist.

I was there the day she surrendered. We were on the shore mending nets under the shade of trees just above the beach. She stood and for a very long time she stared out to sea, her face calm and peaceful. Others talked to her, but she ignored them and they decided to let her be; she had earned that level of deference. Then, without warning or preamble of any kind, she began to walk down the beach and then continued into the surf.

We all saw what she was about and some of the younger girls cried out for her to stop, but the rest of us simply stood, bearing quiet witness to the moment. The sea was gentle that day, the soft swells lapping against her as she laid her hands palms-down upon the water, continuing forward without pause. She simply walked and waded until she slipped beneath the surface with nary a sound, nor a struggle. She embraced the sea and the sea took her, giving her the peace she sought.

I thought I understood her then, but I understand her better now. She accepted her own end, as I do mine. She waded into the sea to her death, unable to know what exactly that meant, but unable to embrace any other course. I find myself wading into the world I have held at bay for so long—and I know not what awaits me. Yet I, too, can follow no other course.

I embrace this brave new world today, seeking to make it my own and to be within it as others are. There is no longer a place for my reserved and private existence. I cannot explain how this feels, the unease bordering upon panic that greets the notion of attempting to exist within the blindingly fast-paced reality of these young ones today who are forced to accept an existence of mere decades—longer it is than their forebears, yet still barely as a span of breaths to one such as I. I still see the primitive drives of tribe and superstition that hold sway amongst these people who would call themselves enlightened and even mighty. The ancient savage within me recognizes them for what they are and fears them.

So many changes in such a short time. Dennis is here, he and Joshua laying out the basics of this research effort, while I endeavor to maintain this facade of calm acceptance and Edna strangely feels like my anchor in a troubled sea.

I have avoided doctors for so very long that the idea of willingly placing myself in their hands, inviting them to probe and test and learn what they can smacks of insanity. I have taken what precautions I can, but I know in my heart should I have to flee my chances are not good. My ghost-writer is correct; this new modern world, with its birth certificates, its identification cards, its security precautions and its mass-media, is destined to snare me eventually. I can confront it on my own terms or wait for it to confront me. Fleeing would only stave off the inevitable.

I am committed not just by my actions, but by the realities I face.

Fear makes an uninspiring companion and as much as I can I hold it at bay. Despite all the eager plans swirling in the heads of my trusted friends I have not abandoned my own efforts. This house shall ring with the voices of young, eager minds, the first in such a long time. The McAllister Foundation has gathered in its first five students and I find myself eager for their arrival. I have been a teacher in the past, now perhaps I can take that experience further than ever before. I am using them, preparing them to be my defenders without their knowledge or consent. It is unfair to them, but… it is never truly fair.

Not to anyone.

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