her and did their best to entertain her while the worst of the wounded were stabilised in the lobby and hauled upstairs, where their old infirmary had overspilled across two whole storeys. Complimenting her on her dress, asking her about home and her favourite books; it all brought back memories of the martial arts class Norman led back home.
He had always considered teaching one of the more taxing chores on New Canterbury’s duty rota, but he missed the kids. He had never appreciated how easy their lives had been until now—just what Alexander’s vision had meant for their quality of life. How many years had he moped and brooded over the destiny foisted upon him, meanwhile enjoying all the comforts of electricity and baked bread and fried eggs, curated libraries, and a comfy bed? And all that time, thousands had eked out desperate livings on the edge of rotting towns, fighting off thieves and succumbing to simple illnesses, slowly forgetting who they were and all they knew.
And then the famine had come. With their mission to thrust them into swift action, Alexander had insisted that the council impose a policy of aggressive scavenging, to stock up on food to buffer the impact of starvation. They couldn’t afford to starve, not if they were to continue protecting the legacy of the Old World. They had scoured all the land and taken all they could find, leaving little, if anything, for anyone else. At first they had been unaware of just what effect they were having, but by the end of the famine’s height, it had been obvious that they had robbed thousands of their already slim chances of survival.
In truth it was no surprise this army had banded together. They had brought this on themselves.
“I want my mummy,” the little girl was saying.
Allie hushed her and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. “Rest, now, darling.”
“I want her!”
Allie’s lips tightened and grew pale. She glanced to him for help.
Norman was gripped by the same paralysis, and for a moment he thought they would both remain that way; but then a bright flash winked to life in the abyss behind his eyes, and he leaned toward her, taking her hand in his. “Back home, do you go to school?” he said.
She nodded, sunken eyes glazed.
“Do they tell the story of the End?” He waited, but she had grown still. He smiled. “I bet they do. They’ve been telling it all over since I was a boy. Before the End, the great cities were full of people, millions, and all the old machines rang and trilled and flashed around them, doing their bidding and talking to other people and other machines across the sea. Because, of course, there were many places across the sea, and each one was home to millions more people. We were wise, and we had power. The world had big problems, terrible problems, but we strived to put them right just as we do today—and that’s what’s important: we’re no different today than our ancestors before us. They might have lived in tall buildings and talked to others on the other side of the world just like I talk to you now, but they were just people, no different from us.” He paused, and squeezed her hand. “Why do we tell that story?”
“Because they’re all gone,” the girl whispered.
“Yes, they are. They left us behind to carry on, and though we don’t know why they left, we have to do our best to carry on their way of life. One day we’ll be ready for that power again. If places like this and people like us fail, everything they worked for will vanish just like them. And we can’t let that happen, because that’s how we keep them alive.” He placed both their hands over her chest. “So long as we carry all they knew, felt, and dreamed, they’re still here with us.”
The little girl looked down at her own chest. She said nothing, but her lip quivered. She wasn’t young enough for fairy tales, but a child’s imagination was the most powerful thing Norman knew of; it made them tougher than diamond. He could almost see the cogs turning inside her head. After a long time, she looked back up at them and gave the smallest of nods.
He gave her his best smile, despite the swell of embarrassment swelling in his throat, and stood on shaking legs, suppressing a grunt as his ribs cried out.