to be marked as different.
She pulled out the red jacket and huddled
into it.
Wearing it, she wandered into the living
room. He'd mentioned films. Had he left his system open to her,
too? She sat on the sofa and clicked it on. He had. She pulled up
his menu and there were the war films he'd talked about, but the
last thing he’d opened had been audio.
S ir Winston
Spencer Churchill, the title read. Speech on Dunkirk, June 4th, 1940. (Radio with
sim.)
She clicked on it, and a gravely voice spoke
as if the man was right there. Dan had switched off the sim and she
left it like that, hearing it as it had first been transmitted.
At first the flat delivery seemed ponderous,
but then it began to shiver down her spine.
"...we shall fight on the beaches, we shall
fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in
the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never
surrender."
The man spoke as if surrender was an
impossibility, as it certainly was here on Gaia, but she heard the
tone of one who tastes the ashes on the wind.
He'd won his war
Had Dan found hope in that?
When the speech ended, he scanned the list of
films in the system and clicked on one from that war -- World War
II, a concept that had boggled her until now. She watched it Reach
for the Sky, hugging the jacket closer; watched the pilot be
victorious; watched him lose his legs, then take to the air to
fight again. And without fixing.
She understood what Dan had drawn from that.
She didn't like it, but she understood it.
She moved on to Lawrence of Arabia .
She didn't move into Dan's flat -- there'd be
too many questions -- but she spent most of her spare time there,
watching the films, absorbing what he'd found in them, using the
lessons to keep going as the town emptied around her and the
blighters came closer on the wind.
Keep going during the blitz. Don't let the
enemy get you down. Keep a song in your heart. We'll meet again.
Wave a white feather. She even made herself a red poppy to wear. No
one knew what it meant, and she wasn't sure herself.
Red for courage?
Red for blood?
She stopped running the Angliacom cells
because even though the news was grim, it wasn't nearly as grim as
the messages in her mind. She used a Keep-Calm patch and went to
work for something to do. Paperwork, it seemed, never entirely
stopped.
Then one day she awoke to realize that
something had changed. A lightening. A lessening of pressure.
She clicked on Angliacom. There was no
reporter. Instead the screen was showing a still, tourist-style
picture of Hellbane U up in the mountains on a perfect, sky-blue
day. Across the bottom ran: New in from
our brave fixers at the front. The spread of hellbanes has been
halted. The wave has been turned, and ultimate victory is in
sight .
Jenny watched it five times, joy building,
and then dashed to the Merrie to see if anyone knew any
details.
They didn't, but they were all close to
delirious anyway. There would have been a wild party if anyone had
been there to spark it. As it was, it was wild enough. Tom and Yas
were still around, and he and Jenny played rollicking songs. They
even played the anthem again and some people sang it in tears.
Most of these people were packed and ready to
flee not just Anglia, but Gaia. Now they had hope. They drank round
after round of toasts to the fixers, especially to Dan Fixer, their
own hero. Time after time Jenny and Tom were asked if they'd heard
from him, as if he were on holiday.
She hadn’t heard from Dan, and he’d not
called his family, either. She didn't think the blighters could
knock out com-towers, so there must be some other reason.
The most obvious one was that he was dead. It
was a fear she lived with day by torturous day, consoling herself
that no news was good news. If any of the fixers died, someone
would inform the family.
Anyway, he must be very busy. Whatever the
fixers were doing could leave no time for social calls.
Now, though, with the tide turned
She pulled out the red jacket and huddled
into it.
Wearing it, she wandered into the living
room. He'd mentioned films. Had he left his system open to her,
too? She sat on the sofa and clicked it on. He had. She pulled up
his menu and there were the war films he'd talked about, but the
last thing he’d opened had been audio.
S ir Winston
Spencer Churchill, the title read. Speech on Dunkirk, June 4th, 1940. (Radio with
sim.)
She clicked on it, and a gravely voice spoke
as if the man was right there. Dan had switched off the sim and she
left it like that, hearing it as it had first been transmitted.
At first the flat delivery seemed ponderous,
but then it began to shiver down her spine.
"...we shall fight on the beaches, we shall
fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in
the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never
surrender."
The man spoke as if surrender was an
impossibility, as it certainly was here on Gaia, but she heard the
tone of one who tastes the ashes on the wind.
He'd won his war
Had Dan found hope in that?
When the speech ended, he scanned the list of
films in the system and clicked on one from that war -- World War
II, a concept that had boggled her until now. She watched it Reach
for the Sky, hugging the jacket closer; watched the pilot be
victorious; watched him lose his legs, then take to the air to
fight again. And without fixing.
She understood what Dan had drawn from that.
She didn't like it, but she understood it.
She moved on to Lawrence of Arabia .
She didn't move into Dan's flat -- there'd be
too many questions -- but she spent most of her spare time there,
watching the films, absorbing what he'd found in them, using the
lessons to keep going as the town emptied around her and the
blighters came closer on the wind.
Keep going during the blitz. Don't let the
enemy get you down. Keep a song in your heart. We'll meet again.
Wave a white feather. She even made herself a red poppy to wear. No
one knew what it meant, and she wasn't sure herself.
Red for courage?
Red for blood?
She stopped running the Angliacom cells
because even though the news was grim, it wasn't nearly as grim as
the messages in her mind. She used a Keep-Calm patch and went to
work for something to do. Paperwork, it seemed, never entirely
stopped.
Then one day she awoke to realize that
something had changed. A lightening. A lessening of pressure.
She clicked on Angliacom. There was no
reporter. Instead the screen was showing a still, tourist-style
picture of Hellbane U up in the mountains on a perfect, sky-blue
day. Across the bottom ran: New in from
our brave fixers at the front. The spread of hellbanes has been
halted. The wave has been turned, and ultimate victory is in
sight .
Jenny watched it five times, joy building,
and then dashed to the Merrie to see if anyone knew any
details.
They didn't, but they were all close to
delirious anyway. There would have been a wild party if anyone had
been there to spark it. As it was, it was wild enough. Tom and Yas
were still around, and he and Jenny played rollicking songs. They
even played the anthem again and some people sang it in tears.
Most of these people were packed and ready to
flee not just Anglia, but Gaia. Now they had hope. They drank round
after round of toasts to the fixers, especially to Dan Fixer, their
own hero. Time after time Jenny and Tom were asked if they'd heard
from him, as if he were on holiday.
She hadn’t heard from Dan, and he’d not
called his family, either. She didn't think the blighters could
knock out com-towers, so there must be some other reason.
The most obvious one was that he was dead. It
was a fear she lived with day by torturous day, consoling herself
that no news was good news. If any of the fixers died, someone
would inform the family.
Anyway, he must be very busy. Whatever the
fixers were doing could leave no time for social calls.
Now, though, with the tide turned
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