ASSOCIATION / CH. 31:COUNTDOWN
The fractures in the surface of the asteroid had been initiated by the abuse from the propulsion unit and expanded under gravitational stresses from the swing past Jupiter. The meteor had then plunged in towards the heat of the sun along its hyperbolic orbit, spending a few days even within the orbit of mercury, by which time it had shed its collected crust of ice. The surface of the asteroid had been repeatedly grilled and frozen as it rotated, the heating and cooling of had done its work. The outer layers had in part been broken off, and blown by the solar wind and radiation pressure now went in front of the asteroid like heralds. The parts that had not broken off, instead fused together from the intense heat. The largest crack, which went deep through the center of the asteroid, hadn't grown fast enough or large enough to make the asteroid split. If anything, the solar approach had made the asteroid stronger.
2PM, TUESDAY, 13TH FEB, 2272
Pris and her squad of trainees trotted through the city; it was spooky.
“Ever been in a city this empty, people?” Pris asked.
“No maam.” came the chorus of replies.
“Me neither. Funny feeling, isn't it?”
“Very.”
“How's that data coming?” Pris asked. They were on the lookout for stay-behinds, people who shouldn't be in the city. Someone, Pris wasn't sure who, was entering spots into a database, they were one of many search squads, going from house to house, putting people into specially programmed transports. Mostly the police or army were doing it, depending on what category or person it was. Criminals got armed police, most people got a squad of soldiers. Pris and her squad were dealing with the medium-hard cases which someone had decided could be dealt with via radio. The squads dealing with really hard cases had a truthsayer attached to their team. Right now, they were after a teenager who'd sprinted away faster than the pair of soldiers sent after him could, and they'd lost him. And gained a lot of embarrassment.
“He is moving around a bit.” reported the agent with the map display.
“And?” Pris asked.
“We're close. Last update, north three hundred meters, a minute ago. I don't know if he or she's moved. I've requested an update.”
“What ever happened to just looking first?”
“Sorry, Maam.”
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Kate looked at the display, flashing in front of her “Oh all right! Hold on!” she muttered to herself. [Sarah! This database is a lovely idea but I've now got five squads all wanting updates, and I'm going to need a rest at this rate. I've just checked one, and the guy was still in exactly the same place he was last time!]
[I know the feeling. Any ideas?]
[Yes, I'm going to tell them they get one more request, and keep it for when they really need it.]
[Good idea. Preface it with 'I'm not a machine, and am nearing my limits.' Actually, I'll put it system-wide.]
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Pris watched the squad deploy. It was a well planned manoeuvre. One agent watched the cellar-stairwell that the boy thought he was hiding in. His hair was just visible. Other agents spread out to cover all the exits from the square. The agent with the loud-hailer called “You are in violation of the evacuation law. Come out with your hands clearly visible. If you run, you will be stunned.” No response.
Pris approached the hiding place, not trying to be silent. There was no response. “Hey, we know where you're hiding.” she shouted. Still no response. At about ten meters away, she repeated her shout. The boy didn't even flinch. She took out her warrant card, then picked up a small pebble and threw it to land on his head. The reaction was immediate. He looked up, saw her and throwing himself up the stairs, he sprinted away. Then, as he saw the agent step out of the shop doorway alcove and point a stunner at him, he turned towards another road. Another agent stepped out. The boy, probably thirteen, looked around in panic. He then surprised almost everyone, and sprinted back towards Pris. She had no stunner. He practically fell at her feet, and curled up in a foetal position, trembling in terror.
“Can you hear?” Pris said. He didn't respond.
She crouched beside him, gently touched his shoulder, and repeated her question when he looked up at her.
He shook his head, touched his ear and made a thumbs down signal.
“Can you read my lips?” she asked, pointing to him, and then her lips in turn.
He replied something in sign-language.
Pris looked at her hands and shook her head “Sorry. I don't know how to sign.” She shouted to the other members of the squad. “Fall in! By any chance do any of you know sign language?”
“Which one?” came a reply. “That's almost as vague as asking if we speak something European.”
“Come and find out.”
“Sorry, I can't sign myself,” said the trainee. “I only know that because I once dated a girl who could.”
Pris groaned, then had an idea. “There's nothing useful like a missing person report for the lad is there?”
It turned out there was, he'd been on a school trip to Restoration that weekend, and for some reason had bolted as soon as everyone had got off the bus. Pris had some thoughts about people who organised a school-trip to a city mid-evacuation. She managed to keep them private. While that had been happening, the boy had squatted down and started drawing on the pavement with a fallen twig.
It gave her an idea. She squatted down beside him and typed on her wrist unit. “Can't talk/sign, write?”
He nodded, with a big smile. Pris typed her big question, “Why did you run?”
“Ran home, hate school. Everyone's gone!” he typed in reply.
“Yes. Everyone needs to be gone. Meteor coming, tomorrow.”
“I want mum.”
“Do you know her number?” Pris asked.
He shook his head. “Forgotten.” he typed.
“I expect computer does.”
“I tried. Not public.”
Pris smiled. “I'm SECURITY, not public. Try!”
He typed his mother's name. Pris indicated the address line too, since there were several people of that name listed in Restoration.
He typed it in, and Pris's wrist unit made the connection. The worried looking woman who answered the call didn't speak at all clearly; Pris guessed it was 'who are you?', and signed something. Pris pointed her camera at the boy, and heard what was probably 'Oh, thank-you!'. A silent conversation ensued, as they reassured each other that they were both alive and well.
“Right,” Pris said, to her squad, deciding to take advantage of this training opportunity, “What do we learn from this?”
“Urm, it'd be good to be able to sign?” suggested one.
“We need to wring the necks of whoever organised that school trip?”
“Nope, though it's tempting. It's not the most impressive sign of care for the kids in their care, is it? The missing persons report doesn't even say the lad is deaf. We learn that it'd be good to have a download of any other recently-missing people in the city. And also, we get reminded that communication is really important. When does H.Q. say we'll get someone to look after the lad?”
“Urm. I think we also learn to keep H.Q. informed.” said the red-faced trainee who'd been assigned that role, quickly typing something into his wrist unit.
“Tell them my wrist unit is talking to his mum at the moment. If she's near, they should get her along for the pick-up, not a teacher from the school.”
Pris said, “Otherwise, suggestions about what to do are welcome. I'm not just putting him in a transport unaccompanied, unless they've got one set up for a two-way video link. Voice-only information just isn't going to go very far, is it?”
“No, maam.”
The boy attracted her attention, and typed “Not back to school, Please!” His mother saw it, of course, but Pris thought that was fine. She typed, “No. Is your mother near?”
“Evacuation site one.” came the reply.
“Is there space in your tent?” Pris asked.
“Yes!” his mother replied.
“Good solution?” Pris typed. His mother nodded, all smiles; the boy likewise.
The agent in charge of communications said, from about five meters away, “H.Q. say that someone's going to bring his mother from camp one. That's where she is.”
“Bring that link here!” Pris ordered, “H.Q? I've got a typed conversation with the mum at the moment. Should she go to the information tent?”
“If she can, that'd be great.” H.Q. replied.
“I'll ask.” a little later, she got back in touch. “OK, I've told her to go and jump the queue at the tent if she needs to, and ideally think to the truthsayer on duty there 'Pris sent me.' So I hope there'll be one on duty by the time she gets there.”
“Good call, I'll warn them.”
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John was patiently dealing with a woman who seemed determined to tell her whole life-story before getting to the point, when he saw a woman ignoring protests about queue-jumping and struggling towards the front of the queue. [Sarah, I think she's here.] he thought. Just then, one large woman deliberately blocked the deaf woman's way, and ignored her desperate gesticulations.
Sarah stepped out from her desk and quickly realised what was happening. “Excuse me maam, if that woman behind you is who I think she is, firstly she's deaf, so turning your back on her like that is even ruder than you think, secondly she's been told to queue-jump, and the reason for that is you're wasting about ten Security officer's time by blocking her from getting here.” She called to her. The fat woman either didn't hear too well herself, or pretended not to hear, and continued in her conversation with her companion.
Sarah shook her head in disgust. “Coming through!” She yelled, and jumped onto the desk, and over the other side. She strode up the line, until she reached the still talking fat woman. “I asked politely, now I'm demanding.” Sarah said “Move to one side before I have you arrested for wasting crown agent's time.”
“Well I never!” the woman exclaimed “I've a good mind...”
“Then use it please, and move!” Sarah said, and finally made contact with the deaf woman.
[Pris sent me, I could not pass the fat one.] Sarah nodded, unhooked the nearest rope cordon, and took her out of the queue, sideways.
Sarah put her wrist unit into voice recognition mode, and showing it to the woman, said, “The fat one is in trouble. She wastes the time of busy Security officers.”
[My son ran away from school.] the woman thought, [But I was packed, so I came here already.]
“Pris told me. He does not like his school?”
[No. He likes some of the teachers, hates others.]
“It is a boarding school?”
[Yes. They are quite strict, they like order. He prefers chaos, which is not good.]
“What did he do when he found you had left?”
[He went back to where the bus had left him. But he was late, they had moved on.]
“No one waited?”
[I think they assumed he would find me at home, and only contacted me at the end of they day to complain that he had not had permission to go home.]
“A dangerous assumption. Pris asks why they went on a school trip to an evacuated city at all.”
[It was planned since last year. The school does not like to be flexible.]
“They mix inflexibility and a failure to follow sensible procedure, it seems. I expect they broke laws.”
[I expect his father will sue. I am just glad my son is safe. You know Pris?]
“She is a good woman, almost like a sister to a relation of mine. Here is the transport for you. It has keyboard control, if there is a problem.”
[Thank you, truthsayer. My son's father will want to thank Pris and you, give you both some gift.]
“He cannot. You do not know my name, and Pris is a civil servant.”
[You will not tell me your name?]
“No. Nor my truthsayer registration, not to receive a gift. Go, your son needs you, and you must not waste the officer's time.”
[The computer got that apostrophe wrong.]
“I am not surprised. God be with you.”
Sarah's wrist unit buzzed as the transport moved away. It was May.
“Hi, May. Is there a problem?”
“Not if you're on your way to the interview room.”
“Already?” Sarah checked her wrist-unit for the time, “Oops, it's later than I thought, isn't it? Sorry, I'm out by the transport pool, dealing with a little emergency. Many applicants today?” Sarah's plans of helping her in-debt workers had finally got moving ten days before. Minor factors like a change of location didn't mean that she was planning to stop interviewing people.
“Roughly the same as last week. But the walls are much thinner.” In other words, she didn't want to discuss how many she'd turned away in the first phase with one or more successful interviewees outside the make-shift office.
“Yes. Please apologise, and tell them I'm on my way. Urm...” She'd need to talk to Pris and change, too. Just taking off her mask wasn't going to be sufficient. Bother! “OK, can you let all the last-phase applicants know I've been unavoidably detained and I'm going to be running about quarter of an hour, twenty minutes late?” That ought to give her enough time.
“Certainly, Mrs Williams.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
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“Hrumph.” protested the woman who was first on the list. “I thought she'd be more punctual than this!”
May had decided early on that this woman wasn't the prototypical needy case, but as her paperwork was all in order and she'd passed May's initial interview, she couldn't dismiss her simply because she acted as though May should thank her for granting her some of her time.
“Mrs Williams is a busy woman, maam. I assure you this delay is not merely because she spent too long chatting to an acquaintance. You're welcome to return in quarter of an hour if you like.”
The woman decided she'd stay. To May's annoyance, she then proceeded to have the same conversation with five of her friends by over-loud conversation via her wrist unit, about how she might be late for bridge because she had an interview with a young woman with no sense of how valuable peoples' time was.
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Truthsayer number 108 entered her tent, picked up a bag, and went to the shower block. The old superheros might have been able to change in a telephone kiosk, but Sarah needed a little more time and space. She also wanted to change her perfume and her hairstyle, to ensure she left no hint of what she was doing most of the day. As she changed she checked with May,
[So May, want to tell me all about them?]
[I'm just trying not to listen to the third retelling of how you're wasting the first applicant's important time, and so she's going to be late for her bridge meeting.]
[As my personal assistant you do have authority to move her to another day if that'd be more convenient for her.]
[Should I offer?]
[What's your impression of her?]
[She seems to think she's doing us a favour by gracing us with her time.]
[What a lovely humble attitude. Go ahead.]
May spoke up, “Excuse me, Ms Fortescue, I've tried to not be distracted from my work by your telephone calls, but I'm afraid I have not really succeeded. If you'd like to move your appointment with Mrs Williams to another day, I can easily do that for you.”
“You shouldn't pay attention to another's conversation, girl, that's most rude.” Ms Fortescue responded, arrogantly.
“Would you like me to move your appointment?”
“No, of course not! I will of course be having words with your employer about this.”
“Ms Fortescue, quite soon I will be listening to your unintentional thoughts as our employer interviews you, and you have explicitly agreed to this. I think she will be entirely at peace with the idea of me responding to your loudly spoken complaints about her being unavoidably detained.”
[I am.] Sarah agreed [You can also tell her you'll tell me about them if she caries on.]
“Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do. If you do not wish me to report that you continued to have loud phone conversations with your bridge partners after I pointed out that you were distracting me, please do not resume them here.”
“You haven't heard the last of this, you teenager.” Ms Fortescue said.
[Well done. So, Ms Fortescue is a bullying snob, who else have I got to look forward to meeting, and who have you rejected?]
[Number two is a mother of three, all under ten, whose middle kid has been in and out of hospital for over the past three years. She's another part time worker, and has big debts from before she started working for you, four years ago, but she's sort of cagey about how she's answered some questions.]
[OK. Next?]
[I've told a drug addict that he probably doesn't qualify, but he wants to try anyway, because of how he got addicted, says it wasn't self-inflicted, and his drug habit isn't the direct cause of his debt.]
[It's 'just' eating his income?]
[Something like that.]
[Hmm. And then?]
[I confronted a woman who couldn't remember what she'd put on her form, and asked her if she wanted me to delete her application, bearing in mind the big warning at the top about fraud. She said her boyfriend made her do it, yes please.]
[Note on her file?]
[Absolutely. Domineering boyfriend, watch for signs of maltreatment and report to police.]
[Good. Anyone else?]
[Lovely near-retired man, who 'can't complain' but doesn't want to leave his wife in debt if he 'pops his clogs', and they can't make their debt go down as fast as they'd hoped it would.]
[How near-retired?]
[Five years minimum. Debt incurred five years ago, to support son-in-law's business, which then collapsed when he was killed in an accident. Their daughter also inherited her part of the debt, but she doesn't want to make a fuss either, thinks she can cope. By the sound of it she's not really.]
[OK. Now, how was Ms Fortescue's debt incurred?]
[Hospital bills. I asked who for and what for. Quoth she: 'That's a private matter, you nosey girl, I'll tell Mrs Williams in person.']
[I don't remember leaving that option open.]
[No. She thinks she's a special case. But the rest of her paperwork checks out mostly OK.]
[Want to make a guess?]
[She's older than she looks. I think she's had lots of cosmetic surgery in the past.]
[That doesn't qualify.]
[I know. I don't know how much she's cut back either. She just wrote 'Significantly'. Oh. She likes wearing fake diamonds. I assume they're fake, anyway with a debt that size.]
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“Ms Fortescue.” Sarah said as her opening line, “Tell me about your attempts to pay off your debt.”
“Since I've had the debt, I've cut back on my expenses a lot.”
“For example?”
“I've not bought a new dress in simply ages, I haven't bought myself any jewelery at all.”
“Have you moved into a smaller house?”
“No, my husband inherited it. We couldn't.”
“Have you not taken holidays you would have normally?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“Have you taken any holidays?”
“Only one a year.”
“That's all most people manage.”
“My husband insists. They come from his income, not mine.”
“How long have you worked for GemSmith?”
“Three years.”
“And when was your debt incurred?”
“Four years ago.”
“And before then, you lived on your husband's income?”
“Yes.”
“And how long will it take you to pay off the loan at at the current rate?”
“Ten years. It's terrible!”
“And the jewelery you're wearing were a gift from your husband?”
“Yes.”
“And how much of your jewelery collection have you sold?”
“Pardon? I didn't hear.”
“She heard.” May took some delight in reporting.
“None, I couldn't!”
“Fortescue. I presume that's your maiden name?”
“Yes.”
“What's your husband's name?”
“Balford.” she admitted, though she didn't want to. May nodded. Sarah nodded, one of the richest men in the country.
“One final question. Do you take me for a complete idiot?”
“A little rude.” Mrs Balford replied. “Of course not.”
“Lie.” May said.
“Ms Fortescue, or should I say Mrs Balford, you're wearing a diamond necklace, and your debt is in no way crippling. Sell that necklace and your debt is probably half-gone, even though the stones don't look very good quality from here. Alternatively, get your husband to pay it off for you. A million is hardly more than small change to him, after all.”
“He won't! Says it was my own decision, not his, and a waste of money.”
“Ah. Well, then you'll need to work longer hours, won't you? I mean, you are only part time. Money needs to be earned, it doesn't grow on trees, Mrs Balford, Certainly not for people who consider their employer stupid and try to bully her personal assistant. Stop wasting other people's time, you are not more important than them in anyone's eyes except your own.”
Ms Fortescue left embarrassed and angry.
May called in the next interviewee, who was called Isabel, and said “Please sit with your hands on the table at all times.”
“There's no point.” she said glumly.
“Why not?” May asked.
“I'm not going to get anything, am I?”
“Why do you say that?” Sarah asked.
“Because I'm a single mum with a scandalous past and you're not going to approve of how I got into debt.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Desperation? I can't see another way.”
“Partial truth.” May reported, sadly.
“OK. I can see another way. But I don't want to go back there.”
“Truth.” May reported.
“What's the other way?” Sarah asked, pretty sure she could guess.
“Pretending I'm twenty and brainless, like I was then.”
“How did you get in debt?”
“Get rich quick scheme.” she said.
“You got conned?”
“Stupider than that. I thought I'd got it all worked out, see, people'd pay to join and stay in the scheme, and I'd pay people to start with, and then when a hundred people were in I'd be raking in the money.”
“You actually tried to defraud people?” Sarah was aghast.
“Told you you wouldn't approve.”
“What happened?”
“I'd taken out a loan to get it started. Printing costs, membership packs, you know? Make it look genuine. That lot was ten thousand. Then my son got sick, more debt, and the next thing I knew the police were knocking at the door saying there'd been complaints I was trying to start up a pyramid scheme. I'd paid out two thousand out to the first people, as a sweetener, you know? Then the scheme was stopped, I got fined another ten thousand, and this nice loans company said that they'd let me keep the house if I consolidated all my debts with them. Like an idiot I listened.”
“Steep interest rates?”
“They said one percent. I thought, that sounds good. I didn't see the small print that said per week, compound. I only found out after a year.”
“That's illegal, isn't it?”
“Yes. I got out quickly, once I knew, but the fastest way out was to go begging to the bank and get enough from them to pay it off quickly. Otherwise I was told it might take a year to get them closed down. Maybe one day the courts will get through the mess of shell companies to get to the real owner, and I might get my interest back, but last I heard that was five years away.”
“So, when in this did you start working for me?” Sarah asked.
“I realised I needed a proper job, right about when the cops knocked on my door, and my kid was sick. Your people were right good, Mrs Williams, they've trusted me with a job when I didn't deserve one, even though I've been a whore and a con-woman. They've helped me turn straight, but what with the loan, and the rent... It was OK when the kids were little, but they're eating more now. It's getting so I just can't feed my boys, even with me just paying the interest now.”
“Haven't you talked to social services?”
“Yes. As a convicted fraudster, I don't qualify for state aid for another four years. No exceptions. They say the only thing I can do, if I can't feed my boys, is put them into the state's care. Then the state might decide to feed them, either directly or with food stamps or it might decide to put them in foster care. I saw your note to all the staff, and I thought, it's not much hope, but it's some. I can't let them take my boys, Mrs Williams, you've got to understand that.”
“You're part time so you can look after them after school?”
“Yes. Childcare's a killer. I couldn't afford childcare for three.”
“No relatives?”
“No.”
“I don't have your file open, is there any part of your work you could do working from home?”
“Urm, maybe an hour or so a day.”
“Want me to strongly suggest to your immediate superior that you do that part at home, so at work you can concentrate on what you need to do there, and have a few more hours a week?”
“Oh, wow! Please! That'd be wonderful!”
[What's she really think of that?] Sarah silently asked May.
[That you've answered her prayers. With another hour a day's paid work, she won't need to go back on the street. No loan support?]
“Would you call yourself a reformed character, Isabel?” Sarah asked.
“I try.”
“How hard?”
“I've not tried to con anyone since I got caught. I don't want to go back on the streets, getting beaten up and used like that, but I thought I might have to. I hated myself for thinking it, prayed I wouldn't have to, but I just couldn't see another way.”
“Have you? Gone back, I mean?”
“No. Not since before my youngest was born.”
“I think you've reformed then, haven't you? What about drink, cigarettes?”
“Would I smoke or drink my boys away? Never!”
“I guess I was wondering if they're going to be a temptation, with a bit more cash in your pocket from the extra hours.”
“I've not had a drink in almost a decade. Since my boy went into hospital the first time. I was almost drunk then, when he first got sick... I needed my wits about me, and I was almost drunk. Never again!”
“Your boys are really important to you, aren't they?”
“Yes.”
“Did you promise God anything?”
“Pardon?”
“Did you promise God anything, when you prayed that you wouldn't have to go back on the streets? People sometimes do.”
“I... yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“And you're going to keep your promise?”
“I'll try.”
“What was it?”
“That I'd go to church every week, and take my boys.”
“What'd your dad think about that sort of promise, Truthsayer?”
“He'd probably say it's a good start, you won't manage to keep it, but since going to church isn't what God really wants, he won't mind if you don't manage every week. Dad's a pastor.”
“Do you think Kayla might be able to offer some low-cost baby sitting occasionally?”
“Urm, maybe. I can ask.”
“Who's Kayla?” Isabel asked.
“A relative. She's used to kids.”
“I'm not sure... my boys are a bit of a handful... I don't think I'd trust them to anyone who's not....”
“She's older than you, Isabel.” Sarah supplied “A full time mum with six of her own.”
“Oh! Six?”
“So far.” May added.
“What I'm suggesting, Isabel, just to make it clear... Keep your promise, get to know God, and then take time to get to know people at church too.” Sarah said. “You don't need to solve all your problems on your own.”
“Yeah. Been there, tried that. It makes things worse.”
“Just make sure you don't forget the lesson when life gets easier.” Sarah said.
“Thank you, Mrs Williams.” Isabel said, standing up, “You'll really ask for me to get some work to do at home?”
“Of course.” Sarah said. “But don't forget this to fill in form when you've time.” Sarah handed her a data crystal.
“What form?” Isabel was confused.
“Loan assistance contract.”
Isabel sat down heavily. “I don't understand. You don't want to reward me for what I've done. You can't.”
“You're almost exactly the sort of person I want to help, Isabel. You've made some pretty big mistakes, but you've learned from them. Some of your debt was honest care for your son and the loan-shark thing of it wasn't particularly clever, but it wasn't dishonest either. These loans came about because I wanted to help people not do crazy, illegal things. There's no question in my mind that you qualify.”
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5PM, EVACUATION SITE ONE.
“Hi, Pris.” Sarah called, “Me again. Any news on that kid's school? He and his mother are here, said you thought they might need to give evidence?”
“Yes. The school will probably survive, but a few of the teachers might not teach again without some retraining. I don't think there'll be anyone along today, there are too many people still in the city. I don't suppose they've adjusted the impact time, have they?”
“What? No, they couldn't without it missing Restoration. Or the planet.”
“Bother. I thought it might be something like that. For what it's worth, it's not working.”
“You can't get everyone out?”
“Communication is too slow, movement is too slow, shipping people out is too slow, everyone is getting tired. We'd hoped to have everyone out by now, but there's still fifty people on the list.”
“You need to prioritise? Concentrate on the people who are not actively planning to stay?”
“That might help, but overall it'd probably be even less efficient. We're just rushing from place to place. Hey, you're good with computers, can you get that list sorted better?”
“Probably. But there are what ten, twenty teams? Fifty people shouldn't be that hard, surely?”
“Fifty people on our list.”
“Oh Pris! That's crazy!” Sarah exclaimed.
“Yes.”
“I didn't realise. I'll have a look at it.”
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Five minutes later, Sarah called Kate, Karen, George and Eliza.
[Hey, people! What's going on with the lists? There are ten people on the entire army's list, they think they're almost done, but there's fifty for Pris's team. They're supposed to get the really hard ones, not 'we can't be bothered to chase them'.]
[That's crazy!] Eliza objected.
[Exactly.]
[I'll look into it. Hmm. Right, since lunchtime, someone's been dumping army-assigned people onto Pris's list. For example, William Stickers, poor guy, with a name like that, anyone know why?]
[I helped them find him.] Kate said.
[So he's not in the city?]
[I'll check.] Sarah volunteered. [He's in the camp three holding pen.]
[Someone can't drive the lists?]
[Hope so. So do we check each and every person on the list, or do we look to see who's still in the city?]
[I'll count dots in the city.] Eliza volunteered. She wanted to give Kate a rest too. Soon she came back with the answer. [Ten should be on the army's list, two on the police list, three on Pris's.] She listed the names.
[I'm disabling list swapping.] George decided. [Someone obviously thinks that's how to mark someone as done.]
[Pris'll be happy.] Karen said.
[Who gets to tell her the good news?] Kate asked.
[Sarah, can you do it?] Karen asked. [You brought it to our attention, let's not make it too obvious we've got the gift.]
[OK.]
Sarah called Pris. “Hi, your list should be three people long now. Someone over at army can't drive their user-interface. The people on the bottom of your list were all collected.”
“Praise God!”
“Will do. Please remind your squad to stop to pray in ten minutes.” The king had once again called for national prayer, this time specifying a time. In Churches and the evacuation camps there would be longer prayer times.
“Certainly. They're looking forward to it.”
“Really? All of them?”
“Yes. They get a drink before and a snack after. We've just sent one packing. Any thoughts on who to chase next?”
“Hmm. Go for Mr Mishraf Urduga. He's not the closest, but you can then get the others pretty much in a line without doubling back.”
“Thanks. Makes sense.”
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7PM, THE PALACE
“Restoration is now empty of people.” Maria reported, “And based on some survey results done for a press report, about half of the population stopped to pray, the other half said something like 'oops, I forgot', 'I was too busy,' or 'I don't believe in God, so what's the point'.”
“Hmm. Not encouraging, is it?”
“Not really your majesty. I'd hoped it would be higher. Maybe God will be merciful.”
“I'm not sure we deserve it.” the King said philosophically.
“Your majesty, have we ever done anything to deserve God's mercy?”
“No. But, the Bible does say, if God threatens disaster and the people repent God will be merciful.”
“I'm not sure this is that big a disaster though, Father.” Albert chipped in. “It would have been if we had done nothing, but we responded to God's warning. As it is... It's going to be expensive, but not a disaster.”
“Also, your Majesty, on the geopolitical side of things, that rock landing and the damage matching the described dreams further strengthens your credibility, and the dignity with which we face this probably helps quite a lot.” Maria added.
“So we should be praying for five hundred thousand people's homes to be destroyed?”
“No, your majesty. But I am thinking that God's economy is often not ours. It could easily be for the best that we get hit. Maybe the prayer dream was an alternative if no-one moved, like Space-Watch wanted.”
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9PM, EVACUATION SITE ONE.
[Sarah, love, how did your interviews go, you didn't say?] John asked.
[Interesting. One woman I felt like throwing out, certainly not a needy case, The one after was complete opposite, almost losing her kids because feeding them was so hard. Number three, I've decided to help a bit. A lot of his income goes to feed an addiction, but he's getting the drug under medical supervision, and he got addicted while in hospital, so it's not really self-inflicted. On the other hand, he's not trying very hard to kick the habit, either.]
[Why are you helping at all?]
[Because he's got a wife and she is suffering from things the way they stand, and I don't want the marriage to fail. I've also told him I'm going to help him more if he manages to reduce his intake. There was also a man who'd taken on debt to support his son-in-law's business. It turns out his daughter is also an employee, but didn't want to fill in the forms since, quote 'Why should Mrs Williams want to hear about my troubles?' Since she's got the bulk of the debt, and he's struggling because he's been helping her pay off hers, it makes much more sense to help her. So I've told her in no uncertain terms to file paperwork with May A.S.A.P, and I'll try to interview her next week.]
[Do you think that comment of hers is an indication she needs other help?]
[You think she might be a suicide risk?]
[You've talked to her.]
[Not much. Just to tell her that I'd been talking to her father, and I thought it made more sense to talk to her.]
[She didn't seem depressed to you?]
[She has a very professional telephone manner, so it's probably impossible to tell.]
[She didn't think it was some kind of trick by her dad?]
[Not once I got May to send her a digitally signed request to fill in the attached forms, no. That convinced her for some reason. I still think the real excitement of the day was five births in one day.]
[Yes, except the midwife thought that was about what she'd expect. I really hope the dad who said he'd call his daughter 'Evacuina' was joking.]
[Me too. I much prefer 'Hope'.]
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