Twenty minutes earlier, Jack was circling Lily’s living room, eating a tea cookie, overwhelmed by the stacks of paper that towered over his head. Shelves of toys and trinkets and framed artwork formed a maze-like pathway around the room. The air was stuffy, and the cramped conditions, mixed with an abundance of precariously-placed candles, did not fill Jack with a sense of ease. Stretchy neon pants and cotton graphic tee shirts were pinned to the ceiling, each article of clothing paired with a wooden plaque that matched it to its decade of popularity.

“What is all this?” Jack asked, watching as Lily fiddled with a shelf of tiny wooden dolls.

“It's an archive. My archive,” She responded, not looking up, “I go out of town pretty often. Looking for newspapers or books or…” She trailed off, motioning to a figurine of a yellow-gloved mouse, “Anything that catches my eye, really.”

“And It’s open to the public?” Jack spun around, overwhelmed, unsure of what to focus on.

“Technically. For five cents, anyone can come in. Not many people want to, though.”

“Is business slow?” Jack asked.

Lily laughed, “That’s one way to put it. People in Augustana don’t like to dwell on the past. They think it’s dangerous.”

“Elaborate?” Jack replied, sitting down and reaching for a pen and pencil. Now was as good a time as any to start taking notes. Lily smiled and straightened her posture, projecting her voice as if she were giving a presentation.

“If there’s one thing to know about Augustinians, it's that they’re a very– we’re a very pious people,” She gestured to the crucifix around her neck, “Though I think that goes without saying.”

Jack nodded as Lily continued.

“That’s why, sixty years ago, we were expelled from the Federation in the first place. They said we were too fanatical. Unpredictable. They disagreed with us about the calamity, and I think everything went sour from there,” She picked up a stack of notebooks, “These old journals talk all about it–”

“What do the Augustians think about the calamity?” Jack interrupted. Lily replied in a flat tone, as if she were reciting a prayer.

“Man created the computer, and through the computer, created replicas of himself. Their creation of a sentient intelligence was the ultimate act of hubris, and an affront to God. In retaliation, God sent an angel in the form of the Carrington solar flare to carry out his will. Man was brought to his knees, as is the fate of any imitator of the Lord,” Lily finished, her tone returning to normal, “Or at least that’s what we’re taught. Basically, if you build a computer, you’re doomed. Augustinians practice extreme caution with machines.”

Jack pointed to the mounted rifles above Lily’s wood-burning stove. They looked surprisingly modern, incongruent with anything he’d seen in Augustana.

“What about those?” He asked, “Those are machines, aren’t they?”

Lily paused for a moment, looking up at them. She replied, “Yes. They are. But we can’t be the only people in the Heartland without them. So far, at least, God seems to have made the exception.”

Jack nodded, looking towards the shelf of tiny wooden dolls. He pointed to one with black braids and a white dress, “Is that you?”

“Yes, actually. I like to whittle. That’s me, the other one to the left is my good friend Rosemary, and one the right is my father.”

“Your father– does he live here?”

Lily’s face fell. Jack stiffened as she explained her father’s absence, that he had disappeared four years earlier and left her this house. He tried to stifle his penchant for awkwardness as he gave his best attempt at comforting words. Luckily for him, Lily was not looking for sympathy, and quickly changed the subject. She asked about Jack’s life back home, and he told her of his five older siblings, and his failed attempts at boxing, and how his real dream was to write– really write, he stressed, poems and novels and epics, if only he could get the motivation to sit down and do it. Lily had endless questions about what it was like to grow up an aristocrat, about galas and prep school and butlers, about libraries and houses with windows on the first floor. She told Jack that she, too, wanted to write– if only there was anyone who’d want to read it.

“Let me show you something,” She stood up and walked to one of her stacks of books, “You said you like epics, right?”

“I love them.”

“Do you like the Russians? Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky?”

“Of course,” He replied, walking to meet her by the books.

“Look.” Lily motioned to an ornate leather-bound Tolstoy collection, pulling out a copy of Anna Karenina to flip through the decorated pages. She handed it to Jack.

“There used to be a University about ten miles south. The library looks pretty rough now. Most of the books are all wet and moldy, but these sat there all pretty. Mint condition. Can you believe it?” Lily smiled ear to ear, ecstatic to finally have someone who understood how exciting this was. Jack’s father’s study had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with collections just like these, but only now, as he brushed his fingers over a few pristine hardcovers, was he filled with a wonder and gratitude like he hadn’t felt in years.

The front door knob jiggled. Lily froze.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Lily!” Yelled a high voice behind the door. Lily eased, but gave Jack an exasperated look. There was knocking for a moment.

“That’s Rosemary,” She whispered.

“Who?” Jack asked, and Lily pointed to the little whittled figure on the left.

“Oh.”

Lily continued, “ She’s probably with Jimmy. He stops over here on Fridays.”

“Who’s Jimmy?”

“My friend. Big Jim’s son, too. That’s important.”

“Big Jim’s son?” Jack’s mouth dropped. Lily moved on.

“Yes. Anyways. Rosemary’s a sweet girl, she’s really great, but don’t bring up Jesus or Mary or anything around her ‘cause she’ll go on and on and on. Jimmy’s great, too, but I think I’d like him better if he stopped proposing to me.”

Jack didn’t have time to ask any questions before Lily opened the door. She chatted with them for a moment, then invited them in, and they looked bewilderedly at Jack. They introduced themselves and sat down, awaiting an explanation. Jack and Lily hadn’t yet fully fleshed out Jack’s supposed backstory, and were unprepared for the exercise in improvisation that awaited them. Rosemary finally broke the silence.

“How’s your horses, Jack?” She asked.

“What?” Jack replied.

“Your horses, how are they?” She asked again.

“He doesn’t know what that means, Rosemary,” Lily interjected, “He’s from way up north. Way up by the tippy top of the Mississippi. Too cold for horses up there.” Lily lied.

“Too cold for horses?” Jimmy asked, suspicious, directing his question to Jack, “Is that true?”

“Very true,” Jack replied, slightly fumbling over his words, “But it's not the cold that gets them. It's the sickness. Horse sickness. Rampant horse sickness, All their hooves fall off. Its very, very grim stuff, very painful for the animal–”

“That’s enough, Jack.” Lily ordered.

“Why’re you down here, then?” Jimmy asked. His words moved with a faint slur, and Jack smelled the bourbon on him from across the room.

“Do you want me to be honest?” Jack asked, earning him a glare from Lily. Rosemary and Jimmy exchanged suspicious glances.

“Well, yeah.” Rosemary replied. Jack couldn’t take his eye off of the gold crucifix pinned to her chest. Gaudy, he thought.

“Truth is, I’m a writer,” Jack was beginning to sweat, “I’m a very popular writer up there. But that’s just my day job. I’m a boxer, too, an even better boxer than writer, but I got mixed up in a big betting scandal. There was a championship, the Upper Mississippi championship, if you’ve heard of it, and I was supposed to win, but I got offered big bucks to throw the match, and I did, but I guess it was too obvious, and so I had a whole bunch of guys after me, really angry and, y’know, vicious, so I had to get out of town for a while.

“That’s terrible.” Rosemary said somberly, aching for Jack’s plight. Jimmy was not as impressed.

“Were you a heavyweight?” Jimmy teased sardonically. Jack looked down at his weak, lanky figure, contrasting with Jimmy’s bulky frame.

“Yes, actually,” Jack lied, unsure as to why and immediately regretting it. He was in too deep now, though, and had to double down, “People up there are actually very small. I’m sort of a freak of nature, compared to my town.” Jack’s face was red, and Lily was trying her best to keep it together. Jimmy laughed, and Jack was grateful. It was in his best interest, Jack knew, that they didn’t take anything he said seriously.

“Jimmy!” Rosemary protested, “Stop laughing! They don’t get much light up there, of course people aren’t gonna grow.”

Jimmy laughed harder, “They’re not plants, Rosemary, that’s not how it works.”

Rosemary looked to Lily for defense.

“I’m sorry, Rosemary, but I think Jack was kidding.” Lily giggled as Rosemary moaned.

“This always happens.” Rosemary complained, putting her hand to her forehead. Jimmy stood up, looking at Lily with a sense of urgency.

“Lily, I wanted to ask you… Do you think we could ride down south this afternoon?”

Lily’s eyes widened, “South? Near the old town?”

“Near the university.” He replied. Lily pondered for a moment.

“We could. I’d have to take Jack with us, though, so you’d have to go all the way back up to your dad’s to grab another horse. Why, what do you need?”

“Guy at the sheriff’s office said– and this is personal, this is top secret– said him and his lady are trying for a baby, and something’s not working. Said it's been months. I told him I could try and get him some reading material on the subject if he’d give me a hundred cigarettes.” Jimmy shrugged, awaiting Lily’s response.

In the past, Lily had planned her out-of-town excursions with meticulous caution, days in advance, as was appropriate for the danger she’d be putting herself in. The more she returned unscathed, though, the more she developed a sense of invincibility, and every sticky situation she found herself escaping from only emboldened her thrill-seeking.

“I”m down,” Lily said after a short while, “But it's two to a horse, and we only have one. Unless…” Lily trailed off, looking towards Rosemary, who she was almost certain had rode Bucky into town.

“No.” Rosemary declared, arms crossed.

“You could come with us!” Jimmy suggested.

“You should come with us,” Lily said, as Rosemary frowned, “Come, come, come!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She asserted.

“Why not? It’d be a quick trip, not far at all, and we’d be back just in time for the feast tonight.” Lily pleaded.

“Feast?” Jack perked up.

“Give us a minute,” Lily replied, and turned back to Rosemary, “Just this once. Think about how fun it’ll be. How long has it been since we did something other than walk around town! C’mon!” Lily begged.

“...Maybe.” Rosemary breathed.

“We could go right now! I’ll ride with Jack, you ride with Jimmy. Plus, even if we get caught, which we won’t, we’re with Jimmy– we can’t get in trouble.” Lily implored, while Jimmy looked at the ground, a bit embarrassed.

Rosemary looked away for a moment. She knew that Lily was probably right. She did want to go and explore, to have fun, to be young and adventurous, but she imagined the horrified faces of her parents if they ever discovered where she had been. Though, she realized, in order for her parents to lose their minds over her whereabouts, they’d first have to notice she was gone. Rosemary felt a pinch in her chest. She’d never be caught– who would care to catch her?

“Fine,” Rosemary blurted, “I’ll go.”

It was settled. They’d leave at once, head for the old university, and be back by sundown. Simple as.

As they descended Lily’s front steps, Jack shot a panicked look towards Lily.

“I can’t ride horses,” He whispered, “I never have.”

“Well, you’re gonna learn,” Lily laughed, nudging him forward, “Just hold onto me.”