Chapter 06: Legacy

 ~/*\~ Leahe ~/*\~

Leahe found herself wandering towards the middle of the Camp. She liked to watch the kids. They’d all been born in slavery. The kids were young enough that they weren’t broken or scarred by it. They didn’t know that they were in transit between a bad life and a new one.

The kids she saw today were being taught. Two of the kids were holding up a large papyrus scroll, so the other kids could see it. Satau was carefully drawing markings on the papyrus. A few of the older men were watching the lesson carefully. Leahe knew they were waiting to see if the former Acolyte was teaching them anything of false gods.

She noticed Deror, helping Takarut walk towards the healer’s tent, where they treated injuries. Takarut had a bloody scrape down the side of his leg, and she went over to follow them. “What happened?”

“Cut myself on one of the tent pegs.” Takarut admitted. “Too much tension on the line, rope came loose and snapped me.”

“Ouch.” Leahe said sympathetically. “Be glad it was a tent and not a stone block. Those ropelines can be as bad as any whip.”

“Yeah, my new neighbors are laughing pretty hard.” Takarut drawled, limping into the healer’s tent. She and Deror exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes until the man headed off to get back to work. With little else to do, Leahe sat outside the tent waiting for him.

“Is he alright?”

Leahe turned back from the tent and found Satau walking up to her. “He’s fine.” She promised. “Just a scrape. How about you? That seemed like an interesting lesson.”

“We took a break for lunch.” Satau came over with a yawn. “The Temples were where we trained teachers and healers and astronomers. I’ve picked up enough about the stars to teach a few things. We might have a pillar of fire guiding us now, but when we get where we’re going, we’ll still be in unknown territory. Everyone’s trying to figure out how to make maps and records properly now.”

“When we get to our new home, we’ll need to chart it, I guess.” Leahe admitted. “And the one thing that’s common between our Promised Land and Egypt: The stars will be the same.”

“If you can find the right star, you’ll never lose your way.” Satau agreed. “It’s… something I can do, at least.” He gestured back to the tent. “Takarut has never pitched a tent in his life. Neither have I. But at least he has some use to the Assembly as a Scribe. I was an Acolyte to Ptah, training to be a High Priest in the Royal Court. What do I have to offer Jehovah?”

“As much as I do.” She commented lightly, rubbing her severed arm. Maybe even more, once we get to our new home.

He observed her face change as she thought. “You look… sad. What’s wrong?”

Leahe kicked herself for being so easy to read. In Egypt, she’d have been flogged for showing such weakness. “It just occurred to me that a Free Woman has to make her own case for her worth.” She glanced back at him. “Did Takarut teach you about the ‘Promised Offspring’?”

“Something about a sacred bloodline, right? Something Jehovah promised your ancestors?”

“Our people are all descended from the line of Abraham, Issac, and Jacob.” Leahe nodded. “If there is a Promised Offspring, it will come from someone here. One of these family lines will change the world forever. Our new nation means it will be protected, when it comes.”

“And you’re worried that if you can’t be like the others, then your family line ends with you.” Satau commented, licking his lips. “Leahe… I’ve been a free man all my life. One with privilege enough that meant my future wife would not have had to clean or cook if she didn’t want to.”

“No, that’s what I was for.” Leahe commented dryly.

Satau nodded. “And I don’t imagine any Hebrew women would be eager to marry themselves to an Egyptian line.”

“You’d be far from the first.” She pointed out.

“Perhaps, but that’s not really my point. When I was Egyptian, I wasn’t looking for a capable domestic servant. I wanted… I wanted someone who would understand.”

She looked over at him, surprised. “Understand what?”

Satau regarded her. “My father was training me to be his successor as High Priest.” He confessed. Part of that training included…” He hesitated for half a second from sheer habit, almost expecting his father to appear from nowhere and scream at him. “...magic tricks.”

Leahe let out a bark of laughter. “I knew it.”

Satau sighed. “It’s trickery. When Moses performed his signs and miracles, it was on me and my father to match them with tricks of our own. Finally, we couldn’t even pretend to do what he could.” He let out a breath. “You’ve met Ashura. She was the type who believed completely. If she knew I was faking the ‘magic of the gods’, then she never would have believed anything we said ever again. As it was, she planned to marry my brother just to spend more time at the Shrines.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Somewhere along the way, it occurred to me that I’d have to take some secrets to the grave. My mother was a believer, and father never told her how he ‘performed signs from Ptah’.”

Leahe almost looked sympathetic. “You didn’t want a wife you had to lie to.”

“When we were at the Temple, or the Throne Room, we were always ‘on’. I had to live my life assuming someone was watching to see how the magic was performed. I didn’t want to do that in my own room, in my sleep… Compared to that, having to help grind flour is nothing.” Satau said with certainty. “Free man or slave, anyone that wouldn’t willingly be your other hand isn’t worth your notice.”

Leahe smiled, despite herself. “Thank you.” She looked. “Looks like your students have returned. Lunch doesn’t take nearly as long as it used to.”

Satau nodded and made his goodbyes. After he left, Leahe waited until he was out of earshot, and spoke up a bit. “So, how much of that did you overhear?”

With an embarrassed curse under his breath, Takarut emerged from the tent. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve needed my scrapes tended to before. I have some idea of how long it takes.” Leahe said wryly.

“One thing I have to ask.” Takarut said softly. “Did you mean it when you told Deror to have faith, because things would get better?”

Leahe looked over at him, surprised. “Yes, of course I did.” She said automatically. “But it’s not the same thing at all.”

“It’s exactly the same thing.” He countered patiently. “You’re worried that you’re too damaged, too broken by the world you’ve come from to be happy in the future.” He gestured over his shoulder at the tent. “Deror’s damage is harder to see than a missing arm, but I daresay you wouldn’t trade lives with him.”

“No.” Leahe admitted quietly. “You’re right though. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Takarut didn’t look at her. “My people took so much from yours, Leahe. So, so much.”

She looked over, surprised by his tone. “You know I don’t blame you for that.”

“Don’t you?” He countered. “Ever since I’ve moved to Goshen, you’ve taken every chance to remind me that I’m not ‘one of you’ and never will be, no matter what I do.”

“...I suppose I have.” Leahe admitted, not entirely comfortable with the feeling that rolled through her at that.

“Your people will never forgive my people. Nor should they.” Takarut admitted. “But… When Moses first came to Pharaoh and demanded your freedom, most people didn’t believe what he was saying. Not in my circles anyway. They came up with all sorts of reasons why Jehovah couldn’t be real. Then the Plagues started, and they were all proven wrong. The only reason they brought up that I can’t disagree with? If an all-powerful God loved you as His people, then why were you enslaved at all, let alone for your whole life?”

“I still don’t have an answer for you.” Leahe admitted.

“Nor do I, but I think I have a different view of it now.” Takarut bit his lip. “I think that maybe Jehovah chose His time to act, because He knew that he could restore everything we took from you. Freedom, family, prosperity… All things you can get back quickly as Free People. Especially if the one who can destroy an entire season worth of crops in a day can do the reverse for His followers.”

Leahe chuckled, looking up to the sky. “I would like to see that.” She said with a little reverence.

Takarut shivered hard. “If my own people were able to inflict sufficient suffering on your people that even God Himself couldn’t fix you… then what we’ve done is a sin that can’t ever be washed clean. Not even by God. Not for a thousand generations. Isn’t your whole view of human suffering based on the idea that some flaw was passed on from the first man and woman to all their descendants?”

Leahe looked at him and almost forgot to speak. “I really hurt you, didn’t I?” She said, a little stunned. “All those sharp little reminders that you were Egyptian, and we weren’t, and that wouldn’t change? I really hurt you.”

He didn’t answer, still not looking at her.

Leahe gave him the saddest smile; feeling a twinge of regret. “I guess… I lived my whole life on the losing side of the prejudice of Egyptians for slaves. It must have given me a few prejudices of my own.” She said finally. “But Satau and Ashura came to Goshen when they realized Jehovah was too powerful to beat. You came because you saw the sins your fathers had committed and refused to be part of them, no matter which side won.” She shifted over just enough to brush their shoulders together, in a semi-hug. “You’re right. My people can’t forgive yours for years of brutality. But I forgive you.”

He rocked a little, back and forth, on the stool. “Satau was right. Anyone who lets your arm be a reason to avoid giving you love, and family, and home, and children; just because it means you might need his help? Anyone that lazy isn’t worth shedding tears over.”

He jumped up and walked away quickly before she could respond. “Hey, Satau! Wait up!” He ran to catch up with his old friend.

And Leahe found herself smiling after both of them. They had both looked back briefly towards her as they walked on. First one, then the other.

She let out a breath. “Oh, this could be bad.” She murmured to herself, still smiling.

~/*\~ Paige ~/*\~

Paige reflected on the changes that had happened in just a year. Like a hive of busy worker bees, the survivors had turned their camps into communities. Communications were back up, and the Conference was managing the rebuilding of towns. The population was still too small to need cities, which was fine, because the work was no longer so focused in so few places. But the numbers were growing again.

The small towns spread out across the world, all of them being built according to a shared philosophy, with a shared goal. Unlike any other system before, the New Earth was being made to a common standard.

~/*\~

“Where were you when I founded the earth? Tell me, if you think you understand. Who set its measurements, in case you know, or who stretched a measuring line across it?” Alvin quoted Jehovah’s words during a talk to the Congregation. He had given the talk locally, but the same outline was being used all over the world, as everyone was being educated and instructed from a singular authority for the first time. “We’ve all lived through the evidence of what happens when everyone sets their own standards; morally and physically. Back in OS, we warned about the dangers of setting your own moral, or spiritual standards, but a lot of the world was held back because of any kind of measurement. How complicated was any kind of work, because of the proverbial ‘red tape’? There was once a Mars mission, which cost over a hundred million dollars. It failed because one engineering team used metric units, but the other team was using imperial measurements. Lost in translation during the flight, it crashed and burned after ten months of anticipation.”

Everyone nodded, wincing automatically. A shared system of measurements and mathematics was inconvenient in the short term, but was surely going to change the world for the better.

Mirah hadn’t understood all the references, but she knew what everyone knew: Paradise was being done differently, from the ground up. Jehovah had given them a shared belief, a single authority, a global purpose, and a common language. Everything else was being made; under the direction of their Heavenly King. There was to be no opposition anymore. There would be differences. There would be diversity. But no divisions. Not in language, numbers, measurements, or worship.

~/*\~

The Returning was starting to accelerate. It was still limited to former believers, though everyone knew the others would come sooner or later. As the memories of old traumas started to fade into the background, a sense of the Real Life that had always been promised was starting to come into focus.

Paige was feeling better, the hard physical work making her sleep deeper. The nightmares had faded, and the loneliness was easing as her friendships got closer. The loss of her husband was still raw, but she could see the healing that was coming. She was far from the only person that had lost loved ones or family members, and all of them were quick to support each other.

Mirah was in a very select group of people who had not had a single reunion yet. She was without connection in the New World, and Paige had adopted her as a result. Paige needed someone to look after as she recovered from her losses. Mirah needed a guide, finding her footing in a world thousands of years removed from what she knew. Mirah wasn’t sure who was more in need of the other’s help, but was glad for it in either case.

Most people only knew their small part of the world. While communications were back up, most people still talked more with the people they saw every day.

~/*\~

Paige was hauling a load of gravel in a wheelbarrow, heading up and down the length of a new road, which was being laid to speed travel between the newly expanding communities. The brothers had discovered some good growing land, and were setting up proper farms, so that the next season would have fresh food instead of stores. The meetings had been full of examples of rich, plentiful crops when Jehovah was pleased with the work of his servants, so there had been some debate as to how much work the farms would need.

The brothers had decided that they had to give their best effort, and given that few of them were experienced farmers, they had to count on enthusiasm over skill anyway. Preparing farmland included preparing some infrastructure, including roads. They were making a deliberate effort to settle outside the old cities, so new roads were needed sometimes.

Nate waved her over, and she brought him the wheelbarrow. While he shoveled some gravel, he slipped an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. “Arrived this morning. It’s from Del.”

Paige read it eagerly. They had shared the defining moment of their lives with Del, but now lived far enough apart that she hadn’t seen him since.

~/*\~

Dear Nate,

We’re finally getting sorted around here. It was almost a week before it sank in that we still had to do things. Shocking though it may be, we can’t expect God to do all the work for us; ha-ha.

We found an area just outside the city which had a big sporting green, surrounded by bleachers, and assorted facilities. The kitchens were meant for making burgers and popcorn while people watched a game; but the bathrooms worked, and the grass was flat, and large enough for our tents.

It turned into a camping trip, combined with a convention. There was singing around the campfire every night.

We’ve been scavenging supplies and materials as best we can. Our ‘post’ has been coming by delivery; and we hear that a lot of places have been building new towns already. We’re away from shipping ports here, so there’s little in the way of raw material, and dismantling the old towns is slow going.

On the plus side, everyone’s loving the work. We’re breaking down the world that we didn’t belong to, and putting Paradise in its place. Morale has never been higher in our congregation, though it turns out nobody knew what to expect from their first years in Paradise.

I look at my son, not even ten years old yet, and wonder what he’ll remember of the world that was. He’s one of the very last generation that will even remember the old world, though it will vanish into his distant memory soon enough. At his age, a few months is an eternity.

I’m hoping the same will be the case for us. I had weakness in my knees for much of the last fifteen years. Working on construction as a young man takes its toll on the body. And now they don’t hurt anymore. It took me less than a week to leap out of bed instead of easing myself upright slowly, as I have done most of my life.

I told Eleanor everything that happened to me while I was over there. She flipped out at some of the downright miraculous acts of deliverance; though we all have such stories now. I told her all about you, Alvin and Paige. She’s looking forward to meeting you. She has some pretty wild war stories of her own, but thankfully they all have happy endings.

Give everyone my love, until we meet again.

Your brother,

Del.

~/*\~

Time passed, and Paige felt like she was definitely healing. The dark moods that haunted her whenever she thought of her family were fading, though the memories of them were still intact. She thought of her life with Red without it feeling like a knife twisting inside her. She could share stories about her parents without wanting to be sick. It had happened once, with her contributing a childhood experience to a conversation between several people, and doing it so casually that she hadn’t noticed she was okay afterwards. It had been the first time she told a story of her father and been left only with the good feelings.

The nightmares had faded too. Her sleep became more restful as she shed the physical signs of infirmity. Her old life had been one of constant work, with little rest. She had endured back pain, muscle strains… Most of them had been healed instantly, but old scars had taken time to heal away to nothing; and the difference between an absence of illness and being in peak condition was slowly becoming apparent to all.

The Restoration and Reclamation work was expanding; but for the most part, the survey teams only had to break holes in concrete, plant a few seeds, and then return home to let nature take over.

The survivors still had their tents and sleeping bags, though they weren’t needed as much. Convoys of people would tour the area, looking for places where they could help nature along. Like everything else right now, it was a small start, which would pay off dramatically later.

Paige woke up one morning, wrapped in a sleeping bag. She’d missed breakfast, which was taken communally by the whole team. But the tables still had plenty of food and she quickly scooped some eggs between two bits of toast and went looking for Mirah as she ate. The Returnee was already hard at work. “You didn’t wake me!” She called ahead.

Mirah turned to smile. “I tried. You slept hard.”

“...I did, didn’t I?” Paige was slightly surprised at how deep her sleep had been. She hadn’t slept so well in quite a while. “Must be the fresh air?”

“Not that fresh.” Mirah retorted. “The whole plain stinks of mud.”

“This whole area floods every year.” Paige told Mirah as they started digging holes for trees. “The city diverted a few rivers when they expanded the highways. Whenever winter hits, the riverbanks flood, and this whole plain becomes a swamp. Displaced a lot of animals, ruined the trees that were growing here, became a breeding ground for mosquitoes… Really messed up a lot of things for the area.”

“So now we put it right?” Mirah guessed.

“So Kenton tells me.” Paige agreed. “He’s leading a team to divert the rivers back the way they originally went. If this spot never floods again, then we can plant new trees; make some habitats for the local animals… With the city in retreat, the local wildlife will return again.”

“Some already have.” Mirah said happily. “The birds came around when we were eating breakfast. The children fed the birds more than they ate themselves.”

Paige chuckled, and the two of them got to work, planting baby trees in neat rows. Some would grow, some would fail, some would sink their roots into the ground, and make the unnatural marshes into a solid forest. “We can come back this way sometime, see what’s become of our work.” Paige offered.

Mirah gave her a tight, flat smile. “I’ve seen my work. There’s a difference between seeing our work completed, and enjoying the result.”

Paige looked over. “I don’t really know what topic we could speak on that doesn’t lead back to this question but: Do you feel the same way about this world?”

“This world is already notably better, if only because I haven’t been whipped once since I met you.” Mirah drawled. “Hard work doesn’t frighten me. I’ve had that my whole life.” She looked out at the grass, with just a few newly planted trees, as other teams followed along behind them. “I’ve never seen a forest before. I kind of like the idea of… making something beautiful.” She blinked back a sudden flush of emotion. “The Egyptians say that the way things have always been is the way things always will be. Nothing changes for them, so they build their legacy for a thousand years. When I was a domestic, the master of the house was determined to leave something for his children, so that their place in the next world was assured to them, no matter what happened.”

“And now here you are, in the actual next world, and whatever work you do; not only will future generations enjoy it, but you will too.” Paige smiled. “Even if it takes a thousand years.” She wiped her hands and pulled out her device. “Isaiah 65:22 says-” She wiped her hands again, trying not to smear her screen. “It says…”

“They will not build for someone else to inhabit, nor will they plant for others to eat. For the days of my people will be like the days of a tree, and the work of their hands my chosen ones will enjoy to the full.”

They both turned at the voice to see Demetri walking along, with a wheelbarrow full of tree cuttings to plant, and a pack of eager, cheerful dogs following him around, jumping up and down, hoping for snacks. Mirah couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm. Demetri was almost as enthusiastic in return, though right now his attention was on Mirah. “You’ll have to trust me on this, sister. Our time wasn’t quite the legacy we wanted to give our kids either. Not until we learned that this was coming.”

“He’s right about that.” Paige nodded. “You never got to give your children a future because it was taken from you by slavery. Our generation never got to give our children a future because the world made sure there was nothing left to give except disaster.” Paige gestured around at everyone working together. “This isn’t at all what I’m used to, but no matter how bad things seemed to be, God didn’t let it get to the point where He couldn’t put it back.”

Mirah smiled, liking that idea. “For me either, I hope.” She was resting her hand over her stomach again.

Paige knew better than to ask about that in front of others, and changed the subject as one of the dogs came over to her, sniffing at her hands. “You’ve got a whole pack here, Demetri.” Paige grinned. “You keeping them all?”

“They aren’t mine.” He smiled at his guests. “They were pretty skittish at first, but they’ve figured out people are willing to feed them, and there’s always someone to play with. I hear they follow humans around, waiting to be adopted.”

Mirah had picked up one of the smaller puppies, hugging his fur against her nose. “Yes, please. I’ll take them all.”

Demetri smiled at her. “I’ve heard from Mose. He tells me that reproduction rates among dogs and cats have dropped. Litters are half the size they were a few years ago.”

“Population control?” Paige guessed.

“Animals with shorter lifespans either increased or lessened their reproduction, according to their own populations; and then the rates stabilized. Dogs and cats live long enough that we haven’t seen their families return to normal yet.” Demetri nodded, crouching down to scratch behind the ears of one eager pup. A few more came running to Paige and Mirah, crouching earnestly, wanting to play.

Mirah couldn’t help the giggle. She’d never played with a puppy before. The only animals she’d known were the Hebrew herds and the Egyptian horses. Some animals had the run of Egypt as divine-avatars, but not in Goshen. Domestics took household pets and working animals, but she hadn’t done that for a long time. So Mirah looked hopefully at Paige, who smiled and nodded.

What followed was several minutes of Mirah taking a break from work to play catch with eager, loving pets, who couldn’t get enough attention and affection. “Speaking of things I never hoped to do in my old life.” She laughed to Paige. “How long have we been messing around with these guys?”

“About twenty minutes.” Paige grinned. “Not that long a break, really. But it’s the highlight of the day.”

“And after another few minutes, we go back to work, and the work still gets done, and the world gets a little bit better.” Mirah smiled, emotional. “And nobody cares that we paused to have a time full of laughter and play and joy with the animals.” She sniffed. “And tomorrow we can have another such moment, can't we?”

“And every day from now on.” Paige promised. “Better than the kind of workday you had before?”

“So much better.” Mirah said with understatement.

“For me too.” Paige agreed. “My old boss may not have held a literal whip, but he wasn’t really that free about his employees having a minute to rest on company time.”

Demetri chuckled. “I gotta get moving. See you ladies at the meeting tonight. It’s Henriette’s first meeting, and I want to prepare a few comments that might… resonate with her.” He rose, and most of the dogs jumped up, eager to follow him, though one or two stayed to play with Mirah.

“Who’s Henriette?” Mirah asked him guilelessly.

“One of the Gold Letters. Came back a few days ago.” Paige reported. “She was… in the camps. That won’t mean anything to you, but trust me. She suffered worse than most, if only for a short time. Someone who’s prepared themselves for torment? Takes a while to get them to accept Paradise.”

“This I know.” Mirah said dryly. “Take her a pack of puppies to play with.”

“No!” Paige and Demetri both said in sharp unison.

Mirah jumped out of her skin at their sudden vehemence. “What? What did I say?”

Paige and Demetri traded a look. “We’ve spent twenty minutes laughing happily, sister. Let’s not ruin the moment.”

~/*\~

Mirah had been content to let it go at that, understanding the need to keep some moments pure. Happy moments especially. But Demetri continued on his task with the wheelbarrow, and the dogs followed. One curled up for a nap on Paige’s jacket while the two women returned to work, and they dug more places to plant trees.

After a suitable amount of time had passed, Mirah asked the question. “What happened to Henriette?”

Paige sighed. “Okay. Followers of Jehovah have never really had a moment in history where they were embraced and welcomed by the whole world. Some places were fine with us, others weren’t. In modern history, most didn’t care. Now and then, you had some nation, some leader; who took special delight in tormenting us.”

“And Henriette lived in one of those times?”

“Henriette died in one of those times.” Paige nodded. “That’s why Demetri had the pack of dogs with him. Dogs are very sociable creatures. Especially around people. Most animals are skittish, still learning that humans are safe to be around now. Dogs don’t have that problem; they love people. So why was Demetri feeding treats to every dog in the area, leading them all away from the people in the middle of our town?”

Mirah blinked, not following. “For… for Henriette?”

“The guards. In the camp where she was. They kept their dogs vicious.” Paige clarified softly. “They fed her to their dogs. That’s how she died.” She let that thought linger. “We’re giving her a little time to get used to the idea that all living things are friendly now. You saw how eager they were. Nobody’s quite sure if an angel will make them suddenly turn calmer and more gentle around special cases like Henriette, so why take the risk?”

“I had heard that traumatic deaths were… removed from memories for Returned ones.” Mirah blinked.

“In some cases yes, in others, less so. Remember, people with long illnesses had slow traumas. Some people need to remember what happened to them just to be sure of where they are. Right now, the thinking is that some people can’t really let go of one trauma or another, so they aren’t forced to keep it when they come back.” Paige explained. “Others take traumatic memories as a good thing. It makes Paradise all the sweeter in comparison. Some pain has to be stopped. Some has to be treated like an illness. Not their fault it can’t heal, so God fixes it.”

(Author’s Note: None of this is described in Scripture. Many of Jehovah’s followers underwent considerable trauma, but never had the memory removed afterwards. I added it here simply to raise the question. Jehovah may decide to protect Resurrected ones from particularly traumatic events, simply to ease their Return, but there’s nothing to imply it in Scripture. What is made clear is that Paradise will be a place of healing, both physical and emotional; from everything this world throws at us.)

Mirah looked off into the distance for a moment, searching back through her own past in her mind. “I wonder which of my memories I may not have anymore.”

“I take it as a comfort.” Paige offered. “Everything bad that ever happened to us, right down to the pain we feel or the sad memories we carry? All of it happens at Jehovah’s sufferance. If there’s even one thing we can’t handle or heal from, He removes it. But the rest? The stuff we do remember? It’s because He wants us to know the difference. To experience it. He wants us to understand what’s going on; and why it matters.” She pulled out her device. Mirah was still learning, but she could follow along now, as Paige looked up the scripture. “For God is the one who said: ‘Let the light shine out of darkness’, and he has shone on our hearts to illuminate them with the glorious knowledge of God by the face of Christ.”

Mirah was tearing up. “A slave never gets to understand. They tell us to spend a year putting up a great stone wall honoring a great General, then the general falls out of favor and the slaves spend a month pulling it down again, and start building something else; and if we ever asked why, the answer always came from the whip…”

“Jehovah isn’t like that.” Paige said simply. “He wants people to know things. He didn’t always explain His reasoning, but the reasons were usually understandable in time. The more His people know, the more they understand. Understand the world, the situation, the reason behind things… and Him. He wants us to understand more about Him. That’s how we come to love Him more.”

Mirah thought about that, and even while sitting with Paige, she started to pray. Jehovah God, thank you for Paige. Thank you for work that isn’t brutal or meaningless. Thank you for making things better for us. Thank you for letting us be part of it. Thank you for taking away anything I couldn’t handle, and thank you for helping me heal from all the things I remember. But even now, grateful as I am…

Father? What happened to my son?!

~/*\~ Leahe ~/*\~

The camp moved again. Another long march, following a Pillar of Fire by night, and Smoke during the day. Leahe was amazed at how quickly she had gotten used to the light cast by the fire. Ashura often sat on the edge of the formation, gazing up at the fire with awe. But as days passed into weeks, the sight was no less impressive from back towards the middle of the assembly, or the edges, or wherever you happened to pitch your tent until the next march.

At the entrance to their tent, Leahe took a moment to gaze up at the fire in the sky, before she entered her tent. The tent was made of solid cloth, good for keeping the harsh daytime sun out. It blocked the light from the Pillar too, and she lit the lamps. “It’s still an amazing sight.” She admitted. “Is it blasphemy if I don’t stay up all night to stare at it?”

Her father chuckled, carrying over a bowl of Manna. “We should eat.” He said, and bowed his head to pray over the food. “Father God, we have thanked You for our food every day we’ve been alive, but it’s only recently You started preparing and delivering it for us personally. We are grateful, and we thank you for everything You do for us each day.”

“Amen.” Leahe chorused with him, and pulled over the bowl. It wasn’t a fancy meal, but it was certainly easy to prepare. Meals were not lengthy affairs now.

Which was why it was unusual that her father suggested inviting others to join them for their next evening meal. “We should invite some people over, make an evening of it.”

“Anyone in particular you’d like to invite?” She asked. “As an Elder, I suppose you should spend more time with the families in your charge, but-”

“No, if this was for that, I’d go to them, not have him come here.” Tzioni waved that off.

“Him?” Leahe noted. “You went from ‘them’ to ‘him’ just now.” She felt her heartrate tick up slowly. “Who are you talking about?”

Tzioni smiled a bit, caught out. “Don’t pretend you don’t regard him highly, daughter.”

“Ohad-Ittai.” She nodded, knowing his thinking. “He helped a lot of people back on the ropelines. Don’t convince yourself he did it all out of love just for me.”

“I saw you with him the other day.”

Leahe set her jaw. “With him, or someone else?”

“Maybe two someone else’s.” Her father agreed, and the moment lingered uncomfortably.

“Don’t look at me like that, father.” Leahe said weakly.

“Two men, closer than brothers, daughter?” Tzioni commented. “And neither of them are our people?”

“They’re walking away from Egypt, same as the rest of us.”

“Not the same.” Tzioni reminded her. “I don’t see any scars on their backs, do you?”

Leahe looked over at him. “Wait. What?” She studied his look for a minute. “We’ve traded places. Six months ago, I was angry at you for spending so much time welcoming Takarut, because he wasn’t one of us. Now you’re the one saying they’re too familiar.”

“I think they’re fine young men.” Her father commented flatly. “And if either of them wanted you a year ago, it would have been a matter of letting our masters know, and having you scrubbed up and promptly delivered to their rooms, regardless of what you wanted.”

Leahe felt a chill. He wasn’t wrong. The most attractive of the slaves had to be on constant guard against being noticed. “I told Takarut the same thing when we first met. He could have done it then, and he didn’t.”

“As I recall, you had little patience for him. That's why I never remarked on it.” Tzioni nodded. “But things have changed, recently.”

Leahe winced. “Yes. Yes, they have.” She admitted. “They both walked away from their whole world, their family, their upbringing… All because Jehovah had proven to them what He had proven to us.”

“I know.” Tzioni agreed. “I’m just saying, don’t assume that all their thinking has changed. If either of them saw you as their property then, are they going to treat you any differently now?”

“They aren’t Masters anymore.” Leahe insisted. “And no matter who I marry... I’ve got ears, Father. The other men with daughters are arranging marriage contracts every day. The next generation will be the first one born free. Everyone’s looking to the future of their line now.” She pulled her head in a bit. “I’m of age. I want to be a mother. And whoever I marry, your grandson will have no master but Jehovah. As will I.”

Tzioni was silent for a moment. “Yes.” He conceded. “And I will admit, our recent change in status has me considering things from a whole new perspective too. You’ve never had a choice in a lot of things. I would… I would welcome your opinion in this case. There are traditions to uphold, but I think it’s right that a free woman has a say in the father of her children.”

Leahe felt her breath hitch. She’d never had a choice before. “Really?”

He nodded.

Memory caught up and her face hardened a little. “But even if you let me choose, you’ll bring ‘appropriate’ suitors to dinner. Has Ohad-Ittai even expressed an interest?”

“He has not. I’m rather more concerned with where your interests lie at the moment.” He countered. “If you picked Satau or Takarut, your children would have to live with that stigma. They wouldn’t be the first Egyptians to keep a Hebrew consort. And your children wouldn’t be the only ones to try and walk in both worlds.” He gave her a look. “And if you do pick one of them… what will the other do?”

Leahe swallowed. “I… I don’t know.”

(Author’s Note: Under ‘Exodus’ The Insight Book states that Israelites and Egyptians did marry. But if this was done during their time in slavery, or after the Exodus began is less clear. Also, it’s worth noting that several details of Egyptian worship were found among the Israelites in years that followed. Whatever the dynamics of those matches, there was no Egyptian heritage described in their upbringing. The children were commanded to be raised according to the Mosaic Law.)

“You’ve never had to live with the consequences of a life choice before, daughter. Neither have I, really. Life choices were never left up to us, ever.”

Despite herself, she still felt the need to defend them. “Those men have given up their whole world to come with us. And I treated them badly for a long time afterwards.”

“I have no doubt of their character before God. Marrying my daughter is something else.” Her father reminded her. “Which tribe do they come from, Leahe? Which tribe would you be? Or your children?” He reached out to her, holding her hand between his own. “I am not so old that I forget how it feels to be wanted by someone. But it turns out that freedom is all about choice; and choices mean living with the consequences.” He gave her a beseeching look. “Do the right thing. Marry one of your own kind. Your life will be better for it. Your children will thank you.”

Leahe looked away from him, feeling her eyes sting. “Bring Ohad-Ittai to dinner. I make no promises.”

~/*\~ Mirah ~/*\~

The ‘temporary housing’ in the shipping containers were being broken down. After three years in Paradise, with concerted effort every day, the global population was starting to balance out, across the world.

“You wondered why you were brought back here, instead of Egypt.” Paige said to her lightly, reading over the new announcements. “I’m betting it’s because some of the Middle Eastern nations had a very low ratio of Trib Survivors.”

“Nobody there to meet me?” Mirah guessed.

“Not for another decade or so.” Paige agreed. “There’s a call for volunteers to go to the Bible Lands and start the Cleanup work there.” The tone was leading. She was making an offer. “It would only be for a few weeks, unless we decided to stay.”

“We?” Mirah pressed.

“One or both of us, yes.” Paige nodded. “I’m going by my own request, but you’d be more than welcome to come along. I’ve never been to Jerusalem, but I guess every believer has wanted to visit at least once-”

“What’s ‘Jerusalem’?” Mirah asked guilelessly.

~/*\~

The journey was long. The world had rebuilt the routes of communication and travel, but the speed of the Last Days had not been restored in full. But there was no hurry to get anywhere, even if there was so much still to do.

Jet aircraft were harder to keep fuelled and maintained. Boats were a simpler matter, especially with good weather and protection from harm promised to all on their journeys. So it was that Paige and Mirah booked passage on a cargo ship that had been refitted to carry a higher number of passengers.

~/*\~

They traveled by boat, and Mirah was in awe. She’d never seen an ocean before, let alone one so vast. It took weeks of sailing to get to the far side of the world. Paige was equally thrilled. Travel across the world had been a dream that was forever out of reach, given her economic status. They were both starting a great adventure.

“How many of your people were in the ‘Promised Land’ when That Day happened?” Mirah asked, curious.

“Not a lot, proportionately. Though that’s true of a lot of places.” Paige admitted. “I’ve been reading about the early cleanup. It looks like there was a huge number of Angels there, guiding the children to food, and to surviving adults. Now that we’ve got lines of communication back up, the ratio is starting to settle. Some nations have all their Survivors migrating to meet each other in specific locations, others have found each other and built new communities where they are.”

“Again, how is that different from here?” Mirah asked.

“Well… it’s not. But there’s a call going out for international work, and I thought you might like to see what the fuss was about.”

While they journeyed, the other passengers held impromptu meetings. The Network hadn’t spread far enough to reach across oceans yet, so they went back to the early Post-A-Day format of sharing topics, experiences, and what they’d discovered in either their studies, or their time in Paradise.

~/*\~

“When our Region got the ‘Interior Rooms’ command, we went home to wait it out.” Said one brother. “At the same time, there was a storm warning, and the whole area was being evacuated. The Coalition was running the evac, and we didn’t know what to do. My family debated with each other for an hour about which was more likely: That the instruction to all brothers had exceptions, or that we had to chance it. We decided the safest course was to obey the command. We stayed in our home, which wasn’t ready for this category of storm, and listened to it roll over us all day. We were waiting for the house to be torn out of the ground, with us inside… When it was over, we came out and our house wasn’t even touched. Every other house for as far as the eye could see was obliterated. But our house didn’t even have scratches on the paint.”

Those listening burst into applause. Miracles were no less exciting to hear about just because everyone had experienced them now.

~/*\~

Mirah had seen arrivals back where she’d first been Returned. When a ship, or a caravan of people came into any new community, there was a huge, warm welcome for them. It didn’t matter if the people welcoming them were total strangers or not. A-Day was still fresh enough that everyone had lost people. Those that lived in huge, crowded cities Back Before now lived in small towns. The arrival of new people was something to be celebrated, as they were all brothers and sisters.

“When you lose enough people that you start counting the survivors, it’s a blessing to see new faces.” Paige had explained once they were past the crowd, though this was her first international trip too. Almost the instant they had gotten off the boat, they had been welcomed, embraced, applauded, and given offerings of food, maps, guides; and offers of shelter.

Finding transport had been relatively simple. There were flights inland constantly. It was a first flight for both of them, and Paige was surprised to learn that Mirah was far less nervous about it than she was. The view was something Mirah had never even considered possible before.

“No wonder your generation forgot about God.” She had murmured to Paige in awe. “They became as gods themselves, with all existence below them.”

The plane was mid-sized, with at least a hundred people on it, but the two women didn’t know any of them. As with almost all long trips, everyone was eager to talk about the three main experiences of their lives. The time they became believers, where they were on The Day, and what had happened since. A few of them had joyful reunions to talk about. Some had stories of miracles.

Why did Paige bring me on this trip? Mirah asked herself. What is she expecting to happen?

~/*\~

When the plane landed, the airport was crowded. It took Paige a while to realize that what was an airport was now a township. The shops had all been converted into meeting rooms, some of the parking structures had been converted into tent and container cities.

The new arrivals were sorted into groups based on why they had come, and how long they were planning to stay. Paige and Mirah were in one of the smaller groups. The room they were taken to was originally a Fast Food restaurant. The lights were all off, the menu boards and icons were all removed, but the tables and chairs were still there.

A youngish brother stepped to the front of the room and spoke to those assembled. “Morning. I’m Ezequiel, and I’m here to help you settle in. We’ve got temporary dorms set up for our visiting helpers. If you decide to stay, then we’ve got something more permanent back closer to the main city.”

Mirah leaned closer to Paige. “If we decide to stay?”

Paige nodded quietly. “Some will decide this place isn’t for them and go elsewhere. There’s plenty of places that need work. People can have their choice.”

And Mirah felt her insides flip again. Choice. To leave. Choice. Where to work. And what to work on. She’d been reminded of the new rules over and over, but it never seemed real.

“This region has the highest ratio of temporary workers out of anywhere in the world.” Ezequiel explained. “Most witnesses recognize the significance of these lands, at least in Bible Times. The Gold Letters have made clear that the first people being returned are followers of Jehovah. For almost two thousand years, such people lived solely in this region. For some of that time, we have very clear records, for others we know very little. But time has changed the Holy Lands in a fundamental way.” He paused to let that sink in. “We have no greater claim to the Restoration work than any other Region. Humanity did a pretty good job of tearing apart everything, everywhere.” He gestured around. “And yet, more people have asked to help out with Rebuilding here, at least in the short term. We’re taking it as a sign that the spirit is moving people to get involved here early. We don’t know what will happen in the long term, but we plan to make the best of it for now.”

Everyone applauded that one.

~/*\~

There were dozens of work parties. Most were still clearing away the legacy of the old world. Some were preparing the ground for new life. Mirah and Paige were in one of the latter groups, but they were constantly supervised by Ezequiel.

“I’ve never been to Israel before.” Paige was explaining to their guide. “Travel wasn’t even a possibility. But given some of the stories I heard when I was studying to become a JW, I always hoped to see Jerusalem one day.”

“It might have to be the next trip.” Ezequiel said grimly. “There’s not much left. Even less of the Old City.” He shivered. “When the Order came down that all religions were disbanded, this part of the world went berserk. The western nations had all but stopped caring about God. Around here, it was a way of life. It was your job, your name, your family, your government… After thousands of years of fighting over this scrap of land, the only way to have any semblance of peace was to split the Old City into pieces and put up checkpoints. The most powerful religions in the world had all laid claim to this place; and nobody was going to let go.”

Paige swiftly understood. “So when the FRA happened, the checkpoints became warzones.”

“The whole city became a war zone. And the Coalition didn’t care about leaving the ‘holy places’ intact. There isn’t much left.” Ezequiel admitted grimly. “That’s why we have to be careful when tending to the dirt outside the city limits. There’s a lot of unexploded shells, improvised landmines, plus a few military grade mines that weren’t on any of the ‘official maps’. We’re pretty sure we’re protected now, but nobody wants to be casual about such things.” He pulled out his map and unfolded it. “We’ve got your teams working on soil restoration, so we can begin farming. Once we build a self-sufficient colony between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, it’ll make a decent staging ground for the Restoration and Rebuilding work.”

“The nation didn’t have farms before?” Mirah queried.

“The FRA made the old suspicions into something far more… vicious. Some of the farms were burned, some were salted or poisoned… Drinking water, highways; everything was fair game.” Ezequiel told them. “Our people aren’t building in the foothills yet, because there’s plenty of room in the plains. A smaller population means we don’t need to worry about farmland being widespread; just productive.” Ezequiel explained. “In another hundred years, there will be rolling hills of crops and orchards. Unlike any other infrastructure planning, we get to be present for it all the way through.” He gestured into the distance as though it was in sight. “Tel Aviv is where we’re focusing the Rebuilding work, since most of the infrastructure is there, but almost everyone wants to eventually shift over from the capital and rebuild Jerusalem. It’s the one city that everyone wants to see restored.”

Mirah could feel Paige’s eyes on her. Why did you bring me here? “I’ve never even heard of Jerusalem.” She said to Ezequiel plainly. “It came long after my time.”

Ezequiel was surprised by that. It was a reaction that Mirah was becoming accustomed to, being returned so far ahead of others in her generation.

~/*\~

“A big part of our mandate now is to restore the environment.” Ezequiel told those assembled the next morning. “The excesses of the old world sucked the planet dry, to the point where God had to step in directly. As survivors, it’s our duty to make the world a paradise again.” He gestured over the plains. “Most of the Restoration is planting trees, but all plants reduce carbon from the atmosphere. Modern agriculture methods forced yields to increase by pumping chemicals into the farms, and using heavy machines to replace the workload of hundreds of people; but what was left, after decades of clear-cutting and monoculture farming, was dust.”

Mirah was already aware, kicking at the dirt with the toe of her boot, and turning over clods of pale, lifeless dust; hard packed into the ground and baked by the hot sun.

“Now, this area hasn’t been designated yet. In twenty years, this might be a street where people live, or a farm where people raise crops. Or it might just be… open space. A nice piece of open wilderness where animals live, and the water is healthy, and the air is clean, without anybody having to develop it into anything profitable.”

Paige actually got misty-eyed at the thought, looking out at the large scrap of wasteland. It would be a ‘land of milk and honey’ by the time the thousand years were up.

“The wild excess of humanity may be over, but the damage still has to be repaired.” Ezequiel continued. “We don’t know how settled the weather patterns are yet. While we can be sure that destructive storms and other natural disasters are no longer a threat, we don’t have the data yet on things like rain patterns and drought conditions. What we do know is: Good soil retains water, which provides drought protection for land, and aids in preventing flooding. And if all those disasters are prevented miraculously, it still makes the area healthier, full of life; and good for plants and animals.” He slung a shovel. “So today, we’re planting cover crops. Things that aren’t edible, but dramatically improve soil quality. We’re sticking to local plants, like perennial grasses so that we won’t have to come back and uproot them.”

“The great thing about nature is, it keeps living on its own, unless something stops it.” Paige smiled at Mirah.

~/*\~

Mirah was still better suited to hard labor than Paige was, and Paige was still recovering from jetlag. I have been asleep in death for thousands of years. It’s a wonder I ever feel tired. Mirah thought to herself. While Paige slept, Mirah made her way out, wandering the tent city. It was organized, as was everything nowadays; so her chances of getting lost were low.

She wandered to the edge of the place, watching people come and go in their trucks, carrying tools and debris around. She studied the horizon, looking out at the land, feeling the setting sun hit her shoulders. This is the homeland of my people. She thought determinedly. The land we were promised upon our deliverance. The place that my nation settled, and dreamed of going back to, even when in Exile. I haven’t been here yet, but the fact that this land came to our tribes by direct Divine Instruction has to mean something, doesn’t it?

Mirah hadn’t noticed when, but she was transitioning into a prayer. This place has to mean something more to me than anywhere else, right down to my blood, right? That’s why she brought me here, isn’t it? Paige brought me ‘home’.

She smelled something new and delicious, and picked up the faint sizzle of food cooking. Without thinking about it, or looking for it first, she found herself following her nose.

She’d found herself standing between some tables. Food in paradise had been largely communal, or incidental. Nobody had to pay, nobody was refused. Most meals were prepared for the whole workforce; but here in Israel, the hours weren’t as set. People were arriving at all hours, and many of them didn’t know what they’d find yet, and so brought food and ingredients with them. The kitchens were left open for anyone who wanted to make use of them between the communal mealtimes.

There were four or five people gathered around the kitchen counter, though it was clear they’d all just met. At the hotplate was a woman with tanned skin, and long, black hair. It was clear she had been older in appearance before The Day; and had kept the same style afterwards. She was working over a pan, which sizzled with exotic scents.

One of those gathered around the counter pulled out a stool for Mirah to sit on, and she did so automatically. The group was made up of all kinds, different styles, accents, skin colors…

No national barriers. Mirah told herself, oddly intimidated by the diversity. Common belief, wildly different backgrounds. When I was a girl, it was death to speak to an Egyptian as an equal.

The chef smiled at the newcomer. “Hi. I’m Tilly.” She introduced herself and gestured at her pan. “You followed your nose, right? Well, pull up a chair. Plenty for all.”

And Mirah’s first instinct was to say no. “I… I shouldn’t… I don’t even know what you’re making…”

“Relax, everyone around this table can say the same. It’s why I cook so much. Never seen Indian food before?” Tilly kept up a running monologue as she stirred and chopped. “A lot of cultures are falling by the wayside. The Earth and its people belong to Jehovah, and the world is better for only having one faith; but there’s so much more to a culture than that. Art, music, clothing…” She flicked her wrist and the contents of the pan flipped, sizzling up a fresh wave of delicious smells. “Food is a huge part of culture. And after The Day, a huge percentage of some cultures are simply gone; because the Christain survivors were a tiny percentage of their population.”

Mirah nodded. “So sharing the food is part of preserving some of what was lost?”

“Sooner or later, the rest of humanity gets Returned. At the moment, only servants of Jehovah are here, but eventually, the rest will Return, and they’ll be looking for something familiar to cling to. Familiar foods are especially good at making people feel ‘at home’.” Tilly smiled. “While everyone was hoarding food and supplies to wait out Tribulation, I was buying up all the spices that I could find. I had a feeling we wouldn’t get any fresh stock in for a while.”

“You brought them here?”

“I bring my spices whenever I travel, especially on the Restoration work.” Tilly nodded warmly. “Never know what the next port may have on hand.”

“It’s appreciated.” One of her guests said with a big smile. “Food was one of those areas I always wanted to get better at. I was always intrigued by the… the possibilities of food. Like most people, I had my regular dishes that were simple to make, one or two favorites when I wanted a treat… Even a favorite restaurant. But time meant I could never really… explore. I mean, how does someone even start experimenting? I never really knew how to cook anything that I hadn’t had before.” She bent a little closer, drawing in the aroma of whatever Tilly was making. “But I always knew the possibilities were there. A person who was really interested in variety could eat something different every day, every night, and take centuries before they had to have something a second time.”

“It’s a gift from Jehovah, to have basic fuel for the body be a source of such variety.” Tilly agreed.

Another man at the table spoke up. “I worked at an auction house. Nothing fancy, I was working minimum wage, in a palace where wealthy people would come and spend thousands, even millions on decorations. There was a time, briefly, when I found myself hating the customers for that. People were going hungry. I found myself wondering what the point of art was.” He sipped a water glass. “There was a witness there, and we got to talking. He told me: Art is like music, or movies, or even faith. It inspires emotion, cultivates understanding in ways that words can’t. It pushes creativity and innovation, encourages discussion of perspectives and ideas, and different viewpoints…” He chuckled. “These are all things that apply to food too.”

“In a lot of ways, more so.” Tilly agreed. “Food is art for all the senses. Smell, sight, taste, texture, even sound.” She poured a measure of oil into the pan, and a sudden, inviting sizzle roared up from the pan, sending a wave of spicy, tempting fragrance over them all. “I was part of the construction work in different countries. I asked for different regions, so I could experience other cultures. All of them with my brothers.” She was talking without noticeable pausing, her hands working the utensils on autopilot. “I’ve never met a culture that didn’t equate food to family and home.”

Those around the table nodded sagely, and Mirah could take no more, jumping up to flee the kitchen.

~/*\~

Mirah made it outside, and froze, realizing she wasn’t sure where to go next. So she waited, almost in hiding, away from the kitchen; but close enough to watch. Eventually, everyone finished. She heard the pans and plates being washed clean, and everyone talking and laughing, while she hid out.

Eventually, the meal broke up, and people made their goodnights.

Tilly was walking back to her tent, her satchel of spices slung over one shoulder; when she noticed Mirah edging out of her hiding space. She stopped walking, waiting for her to make the first move; standing and waiting for Mirah with a warm, patient smile.

“I’m sorry I ran out like that.” Mirah said.

“Forgiven and Forgotten.” Tilly promised. “Something on your mind?”

“...Food isn’t a story.” Mirah told her, voice small and uncertain. “Food isn’t family. Food isn’t art. It’s food. You eat it, and if you have enough, you stay alive until you get hungry again. The only people in my life who have had delicacies, and who could spend a day working on something delicious… They were the ones who owned me.”

“I figured it was something like that.” Tilly nodded. “I grew up in a world where a majority of people in the world didn’t have enough food, and a small percentage was eating themselves to death with excess.” Tilly told her. “Believe me, I know that food means different things to different people, based on where and when they came from.” She reached out and took Mirah’s hand. “But there isn’t a single person in the world who is starving, sister. Not one. Food is no longer a commodity. Even in places where they haven’t restored the farms and orchards yet, food is appearing. Enough for everyone to feel full. Everyone in the world.”

Mirah had no answer to that.

“And you?” Tilly asked gently. “Is ‘not dying’ the only goal you have now?”

Mirah blinked. “I… I know it’s not like it was. And even back in the day, I had things I preferred… But I learned fast that such luxuries weren’t necessary.”

“They aren’t necessary now, either.” Tilly nodded. “Jesus said: ‘Does not life mean more than food and the body than clothing?’ God always knew there was more than basic survival. It’s not like the old days, when one person had plenty because many others went deprived. So why shouldn’t we just… enjoy life?”

“I can’t think of a reason.” Mirah admitted. “But even asking still feels wrong.”

“Old habits.” Tilly nodded. “You ran out before I plated up. Have you eaten?”

Mirah shook her head, feeling foolish.

“Tell you what: What if you don’t ask, but I still offer you something? Something you’ve never tried before?” Tilly offered. “You can help me make it. I don’t think anyone would begrudge you one meal you’ve never tried before.”

“Okay.” Mirah admitted meekly. “I’m sorry about the way I acted. And I’m still learning what to do in a modern kitchen. Back where I live now, there’s only so many things available; and nobody really knows what to do without a recipe book.”

“Lot of that going around.” Tilly put her arm in Mirah’s elbow and led the way back to the kitchen. “Consider this a learning experience.”

~/*\~

Paige was awake, and looking for her friend. Mirah found her first, wandering up with a wrap in each hand. One for each of them, as a gift from Tilly.

They went back into their tent, and Paige prayed over their meal. One bite, and they both reacted, humming in surprise. “Wow. Spicy.”

“It is.” Mirah breathed, taking another big bite right away. “Tilly said this was from a place called ‘India’.”

Paige nodded. “There was a curry place six blocks from my apartment; but we couldn’t afford takeout very often. I haven't had anything with this kind of heat in years.”

“I never have.” Mirah admitted. “But I will again.” Another bite. “Hopefully soon.” Another bite. “Maybe every day.”

Paige giggled, and the two of them finished their food.

“Paige, can I ask you a question?” Mirah asked once they were done. At her nod, she said what had been on her mind since they got aboard the plane. “Why did you really bring me here? I understand that all people are family now, on some level… But you’d never be permanently away from Nate and Alvin, and everyone else you know. You aren’t interested in staying here for long.”

Paige flushed a bit at the name dropping, but admitted it with a nod. “Your company has… well, been an answer to a prayer, Mirah. I would have gone to pieces at some point without you. Nate tries his best, but he knew he couldn’t bring back any of the people I’ve loved and lost. Nothing can. And I wouldn’t ask him to take care of me. He’s grieving his own father and brother. So are you, if only temporarily.” She took a deep breath. “But for all we have in common that way, I’m constantly reminded that you’ve been taken from absolutely everything you recognize. The Holy Lands are among the more… ancient parts of the world, I grant you. But if there was something familiar, it might be here. If you have family in the world now, they might be here.” She hesitated a bit. “I was meant to welcome you. Becoming your teacher was luck. Becoming your friend was wonderful. But I’m starting to worry that I’m… well, taking advantage.”

Mirah was surprised. “Because I don’t have anyone else?”

“Because you will soon enough. Gold Letters have all been followers of Jehovah; and the rate of them is accelerating. People like us, including your immediate family, will be around before anyone else from history.” Paige shrugged. “I haven’t been pushing, but if you were baptized, you’d be entitled to a land allotment.”

“And you assume I’d want one around here?” Mirah suddenly understood. “Wait. Not me. My family. Maybe thirty generations worth, all due back at some point.” She pointed to the ruined city in the distance. “And all of them could believe Jerusalem is something sacred.”

“What you do, and how you prepare for reunions is entirely up to you.” Paige assured her, as she gestured at the lands around them. “I know you’ve never been here in your life, but take my word for it: This is a region that your people have fought for in a hundred wars over thousands of years. It might be a mess, but ours isn’t the first generation to rebuild Jerusalem. If you claimed a piece of it, under the Kingdom Covenant Laws, nobody would be able to take it from you. Not ever.”

Mirah hid whatever she was feeling about that behind a smirk. “So, you’ve finally gotten tired of having me around, hmm?”

She’d meant it as a joke, but Paige rushed to hug her tightly. “Never. Friendships, relationships, love of any kind? It can all last forever now.” She broke the hug. “But the Returning is happening, and whatever the reason for you being here so early: Your people were the only ones under any kind of Covenant with Jehovah for thousands of years. If Israel comes back first, and all of them are offered their portion of land as you and I have been-”

“Then this place will be quickly claimed by those who have lived here for generations.” Mirah nodded in understanding.

“Survivors and Gold Letters get first pick of the world, simply by virtue of being here first.” Paige nodded. “That talk at the Convention was right. We have to start looking to future generations now. For the first time, we’ll be there for them.”

Mirah hesitated, part of her still wondering if it was a polite brush-off. Paige is right. I have no other connection to the world. No people, no place. She’s been trying to help me learn, she’s been buying me clothes, and trying to coach me towards baptism, but… I’m still living like a slave, waiting to be told what my task is for the day.

“I admit, I had no idea what I was expecting.” Mirah said finally. “But I couldn’t have predicted the cars and planes if I had a hundred years to imagine. I wouldn’t have expected to find foreigners in our Promised Land, all of them better prepared to worship Jehovah than my own Elders.” She let out a hard breath. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.”

“Right now it’s a tent city. But one day, it’ll be filled with your kin.” Paige nodded. “If you wanted to claim part of it for your family, say the word. We can go find a good spot, pitch a tent right now.”

Mirah felt the familiar spike hit her heart, thinking of her family. Is that all it would take? A tent, to claim a piece of land all my own? Something for my son to… what? Inherit? If I live forever?

She realized swiftly. Something to share with him.

~/*\~ Leahe ~/*\~

They all lived in tents, and the only furniture that anyone had was the kind that had to be carried on poles, or loaded into a wagon. It wasn’t that much different from what they had in Goshen, just more mobile.

Leahe had heard that other cultures had chairs tall enough that you were almost at standing height, and tables to match, but the Hebrews had always reclined at their tables. And at this point, the table was the lid of the box they carried their tent and other utensils in. Making a space for a guest to recline with them wasn’t difficult. It also wasn’t particularly impressive.

Ohad-Ittai had the same living conditions. He brought his ration of Manna with him and gave it to Leahe and Tzioni, so that they could show him hospitality. “How are you finding the Manna, Leahe? Is it easy to cook, do you think?”

“Easier to prepare for cooking, certainly.” Leahe smiled. “But I’m afraid I’m not a master chef. Not with manna.”

“Nobody is. Nobody’s ever seen, tasted, or prepared anything like it before.” Ohad-Ittai offered. “There are no experts in preparing Manna. Who knows? Maybe the leading expert will be you.”

Leahe laughed, despite herself.

The meal continued that way for a while. Eating didn’t take long. Tzioni gave prayers of thanks. There were no courses, little in the way of cleanup. The conversation could have gone badly, but Ohad-Ittai was able to keep it light. By the end of their time together, it wasn’t awkward… But they hadn’t discussed anything of any real substance. Ohad-Ittai had been a good, polite guest. Tzioni had been a generous, welcoming host.

And yet, it hadn’t worked out the way Tzioni had hoped.

Ohad-Ittai made his goodbyes after the conversation had run out. Tzioni had offered to walk out with him, and the two men headed out into the camp, lit by the light of the Pillar of flame.

“So.” Tzioni said once they were a little away from the Camp. “You can probably guess that I had an ulterior motive for inviting you to eat with us tonight.”

“I may have noticed one or two pointed remarks.” Ohad-Ittai said lightly.

“Ohad-Ittai, you went out of your way to help others when we were in Goshen. A good third of your scars are because you put yourself between our people and their whips. You’re a man of highly regarded character.”

“You flatter me, sir.” Ohad-Ittai returned lightly. “But everyone is looking to the future for the first time in their lives, wondering what kind of… legacy they can leave to the next generation.”

“Something a father always considers. But for once I’m in a position to offer my daughter something other than more slavery.” Tzioni nodded sagely. He let out a breath. “You’re not interested, are you?”

“Leahe is a wonderful young woman, with enormous strength, character, faith, and conviction. But…” Ohad-Ittai looked aside. “I’ve spent my whole lifetime being practical, fighting for anything that can make the next few hours of my life easier to deal with. We all have.” He glanced back at the tent. “I don’t want to make things awkward for you. Certainly not for Leahe.”

“I understand.” Tzioni nodded. He didn’t want to reject an offer of an arrangement, so he was asking that such an offer not be made. “Just a dinner between friends. After all, we still have to look out for each other out here, right?”

“For many years to come, Tzioni.” Ohad-Ittai promised. “Good night.”

Tzioni made his goodbyes and turned back to his tent. Leahe was peeking around the tentflap, and he could tell she was upset.

~/*\~

“I didn’t think you were that interested, anyway.” He said helplessly, rubbing his daughter’s back as she trembled.

“I’m not.” Leahe grit out, trying to hold back an explosion of emotions. “But I can’t- (sob)... I can’t help but think that he was just ‘weighing his options’.” She held up her arm. “Everyone’s looking to the future for the first time. And I’m… defective.”

“You are nothing of the kind.” Her father said sharply. “I pushed you into tonight, daughter. And maybe I shouldn’t have. But you said yourself that you and Ohad-Ittai weren’t really that close. Is it so hard to believe he simply felt the same way?”

“I know.” Leahe was sucking air like she couldn’t get enough of it, trying to force her face to be normal, as she rubbed compulsively at the stump of her arm. “This is just… kind of something I’m insecure about right now.”

He hugged her tightly. “I know. I know.” He shushed her. “I’m sorry that I pushed you into this. I’m not as young as I used to be, and even if a free man might live longer than a slave; we never know for sure. I’d like to know you were looked after.”

“Are you worried about me being looked after, or are you afraid the family line ends here?” Leahe challenged him.

He broke the hug. “Leahe!”

“Well, why not? I’m worried about it.” She scorned. “When mother died…” She shook her head hard. “There aren’t many families with only one child. We both know that in a life without work parties or Masters organizing us, we’re all going to be working for ourselves. If everyone gets their own land to work… A dozen strong sons would make a far better household for you than an unmarried daughter with only one arm. Even if I marry, it will continue my husband’s family line, rather than your own.”

Tzioni frowned, unable to argue the point. Other families would have that sort of start to their new lives.

~/*\~

Tent living didn’t give much room for privacy, even when it was just the two of them in a tent.

Leahe lay down for sleep, shutting her eyes, facing away from her father.

Jehovah God… She prayed earnestly. I could never admit this to my father, and he probably knows anyway… But yes, I am enjoying the attention from Satau and Takarut. Both those men had such power over my life six months ago, and now we are equals. They’re actually being nice to me. I spent my whole life as a slave, and I had my people stand with me, but… I wanted someone to be nice to me when they didn’t have to be. Everyone in Goshen was united against our oppressors. It was how we stayed strong in the struggle.

My God, I don’t want to be strong all the time. I’m exhausted from being strong enough to get through every day. I want to be taken care of sometimes, even if just for a little while. We’ve been free all this time, and I still have to endure being less than others. Something I’ll have to deal with the rest of my life. I want to marry. I want to be a mother. I want to be… cherished. Such things are arranged, and I am blessed that my father wants me to be part of this decision, but the ‘appropriate’ choices may not want me.

So what do I do? Do I trust the people I’ve never trusted before, or trust that my own people will be as compassionate with me as they’ve always been, now that they have something to lose? She peeked up at the ceiling of the tent, as though she could see the heavens beyond. Tell me? Please?

~/*\~

Leahe was up early the next day, collecting Manna. Her father came out of the tent as she worked, and their eyes met. They didn’t have to say anything before Leahe set her basket aside, and went to give him a hug. He hugged her back tightly.

“Last night was a mistake.” Her father said into her hair. “It was my mistake. I’m sorry I pushed you into that.”

“It’s okay. I’m not angry.” She promised. “To be honest, after praying about it last night, the truth is… I’m scared. What if nobody wants me? I’ve got ears. I know what’s going on. Half the married women here in Israel are pregnant already.”

Her father smirked. “What can I say? The people want to celebrate their freedom.”

To say nothing of the first generation that doesn’t risk being tossed in the Nile. She rolled her eyes, despite herself. “And here I am.” She sighed. “With my father trying to set me up with anyone who’ll take me.”

Tzioni winced. “I’m sorry about last night.” He said again. “But you weren’t wrong about setting up for the future. There’s always options.”

“Any that won’t have the same reaction Ohad-Ittai had?” Leahe asked cynically, before her eyes widened. “Oh. You didn’t mean ‘options’ for me, did you?”

Her father looked aside. “Your mother has been gone a long time, Leahe.”

“I know. And if I’m honest, I expected you to take another wife long ago.” She nodded, looking at him like a puzzle she was trying to solve. “But who are you thinking… about…” Her jaw dropped. “No! Surely not!”

“Nothing's happened, and obviously-”

“Ashura?” Leahe didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. “You’re acting so worried about me getting too close to Egyptian suitors, and you’re thinking about Ashura?!”

“I didn’t say that.” He shushed her, flushing like a man a third of his age. “Look, you aren’t wrong about looking to the future of the family now. If I take a wife closer to my own age, the chance of children would be…”

“I don’t disagree, but you couldn’t pick someone even remotely more appropriate?” Leahe was staring at him in disbelief. “You’re a Judge now! What kind of example does it set that you’ve picked an Egyptian Priestess closer to my age than yours?!”

“I haven’t picked anyone.” He said patiently. “Ashura has been an eager student, hungry to learn about Jehovah, and show her new faith.”

“I’ve heard stories about her, from the people who knew her best.” She retorted. “If she could marry the pillar of fire and smoke, she would.”

“I’ve got an idea.” Her father said suddenly. “Why don’t we collect the day’s Manna while we can and talk about this later?”

~/*\~ Takarut ~/*\~

Three months after they began their Journey, the nation arrived at Mount Sinai.

Moses had made offerings at the foot of the mountain. Nobody else was allowed to go up close, under pain of death. Moses had ordered the people to wash their clothing and themselves, the way the Priests did for sanctification rituals.

The Mountain had responded with thunder and lightning. There were quakes, and smoke pouring from the mountain like a kiln. And over it all, the powerful sound of a horn, as though coming from the throne room of God.

Everyone reacted to the sound differently. Deror tried to dig himself a hole and hide. Most people reacted to it the way they did to all the Plagues that struck Egypt. Some went as close as they could, staying in the same spot after the show of fire and thunder ended; wanting to be closer to the holy mountain. Ashura wasn’t the only one, but she went a few feet closer than anyone else.

~/*\~

Moses returned, with a list of judicial laws for them. One of millions among the crowd, Takarut realized what he was hearing, and rushed to grab his stylus, and the scrolls of papyrus he had brought with him. Moses was reading from his own scroll, but Takarut was still a Scribe. The laws covered judicial procedures, moral principles, the keeping of the sabbath; angelic protection, and land acquisition.

This law came directly from Jehovah. Takarut thought in awe.

With everything declared, Moses addressed the whole assembly of Israel. “This is what Jehovah has said!” He called out to them. “‘You have seen for yourselves what I did to the Egyptians, in order to carry you on wings of eagles and bring you to myself. Now if you will strictly obey my voice and keep my covenant, you will certainly become my special property out of all peoples, for the whole earth belongs to me. You will become to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation!’”

Satau heard that and felt his heart pounding in his chest. A whole nation of Priests… It was mind-boggling. After a lifetime of having the priesthood be a privileged, superior class, here was a God that wanted all his people to be Holy.

“I will take your answer to Jehovah!” Moses called. “What say you?”

~/*\~

The whole nation agreed, of course. Soon after, Moses returned up the Mountain, with some of the appointed men. Seventy of the Elders had made their way partially up the Mountain with him. Nobody else from the assembly was welcome, but there were rumors that the men were being given visions of Jehovah God. There were rumors that there would be more laws, more signs to see.

“I wish I could go with you.” Ashura said to him, standing much closer than she usually did.

“You’re in the minority.” Tzioni rumbled with an affectionate grin. “I’ve had people come to me and beg them not to hear Jehovah’s voice. It’s like they think the sound of it would shake them apart.”

“But what a glorious way to go.” Ashura admitted, face bright. “I want to go up there almost more than life. Moses is making the hike in sackcloth and sandals. I’ve seen mountains before. Up there will be cold and barren and deadly. But he’s going for the same reason I would: God is at the top of the mountain.”

~/*\~ Mirah ~/*\~

Mirah could tell that at least a few people had been surprised when she’d returned with Paige. Her host hadn’t been the only one assuming that she would stay behind in the ancient homeland of her descendants. She had recognized the significance of the place to her people, but it had happened after she was gone to dust. She’d grown up a slave in Goshen; but she knew the Covenant that Jehovah had made with Abraham.

Back home again, Paige had asked what she wanted to do next, and the two of them went on the local Restoration work. They’d been trained in use of power tools and other equipment while overseas, and Mirah was eager to make sure her new skills didn’t fade with disuse.

In Paige’s local region, the Restoration was spreading out further. Far enough that they didn’t bother to drive there and back. Some of the tents and temporary dwellings had been moved to new areas and set up again, as they had been in the early weeks after A-Day, and hundreds of people made the journey.

“A lot of them won’t come back with us.” Paige confided in Mirah. “They’re all looking for their place to settle too. The Branch Office is a good headquarters, but it’s not exactly what most people think of as a normal town. The surrounding areas are places we just adopted when the dust settled, but the Conference is sending new rules about how to establish communities with eternity in mind, so they’ll have to be broken down one way or another eventually.”

Mirah understood. “They work on the restoration to make an area clean and beautiful, and then they build their own homes there?”

“Exactly. We’re spreading the borders of Eden, like we were always meant to.” Paige nodded. “Prepare, Beautify, Establish, Expand.”

~/*\~

Mirah came out of her temporary quarters one morning, seeking breakfast. Meals had been communal since she’d joined the Restoration work. Before the announcements were made, everyone ate, and more than a few wanted to know what Mirah had thought of her trip.

“The world is clearly bigger than I thought it would be. And I’m realizing that there were far more changes to the world than I expected. It may take me a full thousand years to understand the world at all.” Mirah had told them. “But I met some interesting people, and I made some friends that I look forward to seeing again. I’ve also learned a few skills, and found a few favorite things that I never knew existed before.”

“My mother told me once that travel was an educational experience.” Alvin offered.

“She was right. It had never even been a possibility for me before.” Mirah agreed, smiling. She hadn’t even noticed, but she was smiling more often these days.

~/*\~

“With the lake dug, wildlife is returning to the area.” Alvin reported to the crew. “We’ve been in touch with some of the Restoration teams back west, and they’re bringing some animal and bird species to release into the area. We believe they’ll find suitable places to make their own nests and burrows soon.” He checked his clipboard. “Our latest soil tests say that the old pesticides sprayed in the area have finally broken down, and the soil has recovered significantly thanks to the planted cover crops. Well done.”

There was a round of applause at that.

“This, of course, means it’s time for planting. While we don’t plan to extend the new forests to this area, we will be planting trees and bamboo shoots.” Alvin reported. “Not for the Restoration of the Climate, beyond the short term, but to increase production of materials. This area is perfect for housing in the future. We’ll be making use of it for such, and the Conference agrees there’s no need to ship building materials cross-country when we can invest some time sourcing it here.”

Paige let out a low whistle that the idea of such a long term project, but Mirah barely blinked. She was used to the planning and execution of long-term projects. In her days as a slave, she’d often be called to work on building something she’d never live to see completed. This time around, they’d all be there.

“And speaking of preparations…” Alvin rounded out the announcements. “Our region has the privilege of hosting the next Convention for this part of the country. Obviously, we haven’t got facilities for an auditorium or stadium, without returning to the City. We can, however, host a much smaller convention locally and broadcast it to the rest of our brothers in the Region. If you’d like to be in the audience in person, please see me or one of the Elders by the end of the day. Don’t be surprised if it doesn’t happen: We haven’t settled on a site yet. Meeting centers where all can be part of the Program are in the planning stages, but of course we aren’t there yet.” He smiled broadly. “The good news is, with the Returning underway, and the waterways healing, there are plenty of facilities for baptism. I’m told that the rate of people applying for Baptism is unprecedented. Higher than it’s ever been, and sure to increase.”

This announcement was met with a roar of approval from everyone. The applause lasted a long time. Mirah applauded as aloud and long as any of them, but she could feel Paige’s eyes on her from across the table.

~/*\~

“Well, I still can’t claim to be knowledgeable about modern fashions, but I love these jeans.” Mirah drawled.

Paige chuckled. “Easier for working the fields?”

“In so many ways.” Mirah crouched easily, sinking her fingers into the soil. “They planted clover here too?”

“While we were away.” Paige nodded. “Preparation is half the battle.” She handed Mirah a shovel. “Let’s get to work.”

The two of them dug holes for their wagon full of bamboo plants. They would grow for months, providing versatile materials for building. “This stuff grows fast, in almost any soil; assuming the soil is good. If we planted it first, the next rain wouldn’t soak into the soil, it’d flood out the top layer, and wash away everything.” Paige said lightly. “With the clover enriching the soil, making it able to retain water, and make room for roots? Suddenly it’s incredibly productive.”

“Mm.” Mirah kept working.

“Can’t force anything to be ready, but once it’s all ready to go, things seem to happen at fantastic speed.” Paige pressed.

Mirah looked up at her with a sigh. “Not talking about the soil, are you?”

“I find we’re using a lot of ‘growing’ metaphors these days, on a lot of subjects.” Paige quipped, getting to the point. “I promised I wouldn’t push you into anything before you were ready. But I can’t figure out what else you’re waiting for. If it’s education? You’re ready now. If it’s location, there’s been no sign of it… If it’s timing, then you’ve already declined to get baptized at two conventions, and a third one on the way. For that matter, I could make a call and we could do it tonight if you wanted.”

Mirah winced. “I know.”

“I know you believe. I know you understand. What’s holding you back, sister?” Paige asked seriously. “You want your family to be there first? We don’t know the order, even with Gold Letters. The Conference says it might take till the end of the first century to get all the believers back. You really want to wait that long? I’ve heard rumors that Baptized servants see their own contemporaries sooner. After all, Jehovah wants His committed servants to be happy. Nothing is happier than the reunions.”

“That feels more like a bribe.” Mirah said under her breath. “Obey, and you’ll see your family sooner.”

“You have some objection to obeying Jehovah?” Paige said archly. “I’ve met, literally, brothers and sisters from all over the world, and from all up and down the last two centuries. None of them wish they’d waited longer to get baptized.”

“I know.” Mirah sighed, the stubborn feeling draining out of her instantly. She glanced around, though she and Paige had been speaking quietly enough for privacy from the other work teams. “I hear people talking about how they can’t wait for their family to see Paradise. To see the miracles. Because seeing is believing, right?”

Paige nodded, then swiftly understood. “Oh. You’ve been reading about the history of your own people, haven’t you?”

“It’s not a history book to me.” Mirah said through gritted teeth. “Those were my neighbors. My kin. My tribe. My husband.” She put a hand over her stomach. “My son. A son I never got to meet.”

Paige’s face changed. “I’ve been wondering how long it would be before you told me about that. You’ve carried it a long time alone.”

Mirah glanced about. “Not here.”

~/*\~

They moved away from the fields to find a more private spot. Once they were alone, Mirah took a deep breath. “Can I confide this in you?”

“Our secret.” Paige promised.

“It wasn’t something we spoke about.” Mirah said softly. “But back in my old life, some of the younger women realized there was a way to get medicines for their families, or extra rations, better clothes…”

Paige didn’t even blink. “I believe I understand. Something similar happened to a lot of women in my time, in many workplaces and industries. Not to me, thankfully; but it’s an unfortunate fact of people having the power to exploit each other.”

Mirah nodded, grateful that she wouldn’t have to be more explicit. “The Teachers all warned us not to turn to our enemies and Masters for such favors. They taught us that Jehovah would provide, and give us the strength to endure. But that didn’t stop the whip. And it didn’t make it easier, so some of the women did it anyway, and…” Mirah nearly swallowed the words. “...my mother was one of them. Or so I’m told. When I was young, I was a domestic servant. My mother told me to always be nice to the master’s children. But no matter how nice we played, how grateful we acted… Sooner or later, we all got discarded back to Goshen, and… not everyone was so eager to welcome us back afterwards.” She licked her lips. “Nobody would ever say anything to our faces, of course, but everyone knew my heritage might be…”

Paige nodded slowly, putting pieces together. “So when you hear everyone sharing stories of their experiences…. Or, for that matter, when I tell you that the invitation from Jehovah went out to all and I’m the only one from my family who answered it…”

“I saw the way people reacted to you when you shared your story.” Mirah was tearing up. “The idea that this stigma might actually be gone. That everyone is welcome before Jehovah, no matter what family they came from.” Paige hugged her, almost without thought, and Mirah returned it gratefully. “I know that you’re not sure why I was Returned so early. Maybe it’s not because of what the world needs now. Maybe it’s because I needed to know this first… After all, all my people will be back one day…”

“There’s a lot of ‘traditional’ thinking to overturn.” Paige admitted. “If it makes life easier for you, I’m grateful for it.”

“If you don’t mind my saying, Paige…” Mirah said finally. “I will admit that it feels strange to me; hearing you blame yourself for other people turning down the invitation. I wasn’t made Hebrew by invitation. Nobody ever blamed me for being descended from Abraham.”

“Due respect, Mirah, but we got more members through preaching than we ever did by parenthood.” Paige sighed. “Choosing your beliefs isn’t like choosing your kin.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” Mirah nodded immediately. “My mother couldn’t choose if I was Hebrew, but she did choose to risk my being born part-Egyptian; no matter what that would do to my standing before Jehovah’s people.” She let that thought hang. “You come from an age where anyone could choose their own standing before God. What a miracle that must have been… But I lived a lifetime of people making my choices for me. Most of them against my will.”

Paige was struck hard by that. “I guess so.” She said finally. “While we’re confessing deep personal secrets to each other, can I ask a question?” At her nod, Paige pressed on. “There’s clearly been a question you want to ask, but haven’t dared to.”

Mirah stared at her for a long time. “I wouldn’t ask, but it’s… It’s been eating me up since… Well, since I woke up.” She laid a hand over her flat stomach. “I was pregnant. A firstborn son. I was getting close, and then one morning I started bleeding, and…”

“And woke up here.” Paige said in hushed empathy. “I’m sorry, Mirah. Our records are not that specific. And not many people from your time have Returned yet. We’re expecting word on what will happen to a lot of people.”

Mirah sighed. “So I learned from my own research. I was hoping I missed something, but…” She shook her head. “You get used to the idea that you might die before your kids grow up. You get used to the idea that you may never find out what happens to them… But waking up and not knowing if they were born? That’s something else. If he did survive without me, then I missed everything. What kind of life did he have? Would he have made it to Moses’ time? Do I have grandchildren?”

“Which rather brings us back to the original question.” Paige said gently. “Seeing is believing, right? Except…”

Mirah winced hard. “Sometimes I wish you’d never taught me to read. It would have made it so much easier to believe the best in my people.”

Paige sighed. “I… wish I could…” She had no idea what to say.

“Those were my people.” Mirah insisted. “To you, the Bible is a record of times so ancient you don’t really know what life was like then. But those people it’s talking about? I missed it by thirty years. Less, even. Hard to be sure, but I know that I would have known some of these people. This ‘generation’ that had to wander the wilderness until it all passed? They were people I knew.”

Paige took a deep breath. “Mirah,” She said finally. “Are you afraid to have your family Returned?”

“What if seeing it be real isn’t enough for them? Again?” Mirah shuddered. “What if my husband… my son… what if every single part of the world still isn’t enough to convince someone?”

And Paige wanted to laugh sickly. “I said those exact same words to Alvin once.”

“Really?” Mirah was surprised. “When?”

“Before I got baptized.” Paige sighed. “My turn for a confession, I guess. I knew it was the Truth long before I did anything about it, because I feared others in my family would reject me, no matter what I said. But the nightly news kept fitting in with everything the Bible kept saying. Every day, it was just getting too… real. I couldn’t ignore it, but I couldn’t make the jump to actually becoming a Witness.”

“Why not?”

“Because Red wouldn’t.” Paige explained. “Over and over, I told my husband what I was learning. Over and over, I showed him how the world was proving it, every day. But he just didn’t want to make the change.” She wiped at her tearing eyes. “You gotta understand, life was hard then. Times were tough, we had to work like crazy to keep from being put out on the streets. My husband’s family kept looking up hurtful things about the Witnesses and were constantly telling him to make me stop studying with them. But he never told me to, even if he wanted me to. He never sided with anyone over me, because I was his wife. Loyalty was everything to Red.”

Mirah nodded sagely. “I know that feeling.”

Paige nodded. “Out of loyalty to Red, I kept fighting it, even when I knew it was the right thing to do. When the ‘endgame’ began, I couldn’t wait any more. I thought maybe God would be angry that I waited so long. Trying to ‘have it both ways’. But I was baptized, and not long after, I was the only one left. No matter what I said, they wouldn’t listen.”

Mirah hugged her tightly. Jehovah God, Paige has just described what it was like to live through my greatest fear. It’s the only part of the future I’m still worried about.

“I told Alvin I couldn’t do it without Red.” Paige whispered quietly. “Alvin told me that you couldn’t make anyone believe. Just like you couldn’t force someone to love you, or hate you, or trust you. Actions can be coerced. Truth is given free.” She let out a hard breath. “And I realized that I wasn’t helping anyone by acting like I couldn’t do the right thing unless other people did it with me.” She finally focused properly on Mirah, ending her ‘confession’ and making the important point. “Neither can you.”

Mirah was nearly in tears. “I wanted to delay my family coming back to life. What an awful, horrible thing for a wife or a mother to feel.”

“I planted, Apollos watered, but God kept making it grow.”

The two of them blinked, turning to see a Boy, barely a teenager, with a guitar slung over his shoulder. Paige saw the Guitar, and blinked rapidly, studying the boy’s face. “I know you.” She said carefully. “I’ve seen you before.”

“The Kingdom on Earth is in its infancy. We’re very active.” The Boy nodded, turning to Mirah. “Jehovah God could have brought the Old World to its end at any point. He could have done it immediately after Eden, for that matter. But He chose instead to let it play out, because everyone had to see what He already knew. So He waited until the right time. He could have brought everyone back to life within an instant of the Old World being ended. But He knew the survivors needed some time to process and prepare. So He held back until the right time.” The Boy took Mirah’s hand gently. “You want to wait until you can be certain that everything works out exactly as you want it to. A natural feeling. Certainly a loving one, wanting everyone to have a happy ending.”

Mirah nodded weakly.

“Your people were given a privilege that other descendants of Adam were not. The Witnesses were given a purpose; and it was arguably the most important task of their Century. But it was God that made this world arrive. And unlike anyone else involved, He has the capacity to force the world to do what He wants.”

“It’s true.” Paige put in. “I’ve seen it. Nobody expected the War on Babylon the Great, but He made it happen. He made the most self-involved, powerful people in the world share one united thought.”

“As He promised He would.” The Boy nodded. “God makes everything, including people, grow and become something amazing. But He still leaves the option of refusing up to them. If God will allow people to make the wrong choices for themselves, then why shouldn’t the rest of us?”

Mirah bowed her head. “I know. I know that’s true, but I can’t help but feel that-”

“That maybe there’ll be something lacking. Something in you?” The Boy finished for her, looking at Paige. “That you’ll say the wrong thing, or miss a vital clue, and be the deciding factor?”

Paige almost smiled. “The last time I saw you, I said those exact words too.” She said with a smirk. “It was right before I met Mirah, in fact.”

Mirah heard that and let out a bark of laughter. “Really? You were nervous about teaching me?” She couldn’t believe it. “But you’re so smart. I couldn’t even read before I met you.”

The Boy rose, and put something in Mirah’s hand. “Your child.” He said kindly. “You’re more ready than you think.”

Mirah looked at the gift he’d given her. It was a Gold Letter. Now able to read the writing, Mirah’s eyes flashed as she tore it open eagerly. “Leahe?” She read, stunned. “My child was a daughter?” Her hand went to her flat stomach automatically. “I thought for sure it was a boy…”

“That’s why you’re delivering it personally, right?” Paige said to The Boy. “Because otherwise it might have taken a while for them to figure out how they were connected?”

“A lot of people are going to be taken by surprise when they find out the truth about their pasts.” The Boy nodded. “But this doesn’t have to be one of those times.” He turned back to Mirah. “Ask your question.”

“Was… what kind of life did she have, without me there?” Mirah asked softly. “What kind of life will she have here?”

“Some of that is up to her.” The Boy said plainly. “But she will get what everyone gets in this world: “Food. Shelter. Safety. Perfect health. Mutual support. Freedom from violence and cruelty. An option to enjoy eternal life and a personal, loving relationship with Jehovah God.”

Paige sniffed a bit. “It’s more than our generations ever got offered so easily, until we arrived here.” She admitted to Mirah. “In fact, now that I think about it, those things are just the ‘basic minimum’ of life in this world. All the things that people dream about? Music, travel, romance, family… All of that is available, but they aren’t things that were promised in the Bible.”

“It’s true.” The Boy agreed. “Jehovah promised that everyone would have their needs met, and Eternal Life. But the really joyous, enriching parts of life? They’re entirely up to you. What one person enjoys, another may not. If Jehovah told you what your favorite food would be, you’d never try anything else. If Jehovah told you what your favorite song would be, you’d never learn to play an instrument.” He smiled at Mirah. “The same is true of loved ones, parenthood; and for that matter, being Baptized and drawing close to Jehovah God. All these things are your choice; and He respects your choices.” He unslung his guitar and plucked a few notes. “You’ve been given a vast, eternal canvas to work with; where hunger and poverty and violence will never be fears that hold you back.” The Boy smiled. “He can’t wait to see what you do with it. You, your friends… and your daughter.”

“Some people never seem to work it out.” Paige couldn’t help but put in. “Not completely.”

“True.” The Boy nodded, as he turned to walk off, still playing a tune. “But you’ll have time to work on that.”

The Boy vanished as soon as Paige took her eyes off him, glancing at Mirah, who was gazing intently at the letter. Did I just meet an angel? I mean, a real, actual, angelic being?

~/*\~

Mirah didn’t let go of the Gold Letter for the entire journey from their Restoration Area, to the Branch Community, now a fully realized small town. She kept staring at the letter like she was afraid it would turn into smoke if she took her eyes off it. Paige had to coax her out of the bus and lead her back to the small home they still shared. Both of them knew the ‘temporary’ nature of their current living arrangement had dragged on longer than it should have, but neither of them spoke about it.

“Everything that he said is true.” Paige told her. “Did any of it help your fear?”

“Kind of.” Mirah admitted. “During the last few years of my old life, there was an attempt at an uprising against our masters. One of the men said if we just… refused to work, then Egypt would have to listen to us.” She sighed. “We told him that if we refused to work, they’d just start killing people. He said ‘Doing nothing is a choice we can make’.”

Paige understood. “What the Boy said about God giving us a vast eternal canvas to work with? Choosing to do nothing with it is a choice too.”

Mirah held up her Letter. “The date on this letter is years and years away. Usually it’s only a few days; maybe a week if there’s travel to meet someone. I have longer than a normal lifetime to wait before I can see my s- my daughter. I know my Return was years ‘off-pattern’. For a moment, I had hoped that if my child came back just as early, it meant she’d do something amazing with her life in Paradise.”

“Wild, isn’t it?” Paige put in, sighing. “We have no way to be certain what the future holds for our descendants, even now. But we keep getting married and we keep having babies. Even in a world where we never have to worry about getting too old, or dying, we still make something we love utterly and let them find their way into the future, praying they make good choices without us.”

“I wonder how many people have had the same hopes for their parents?” Mirah commented. “Or their grandparents. Or their great-grandparents.”

Paige couldn’t help the sudden laugh that bubbled out of her. The thought was too ridiculous. She was about to answer when there was a knock on the door. She sent Mirah a questioning look. It had been an intense conversation, and there was no reason not to put off visitors.

Mirah got herself under control instantly, nodding. Her face was perfectly composed in seconds. Paige supposed emotional control was a basic survival skill where she used to live, but she’d never seen it happen before. She went to the door. “Kenton.” She greeted. “This is a surprise.”

“Welcome back, ladies.” Kenton made no effort to cross the threshold until invited. “I’ve been working some things out, and I was wondering if you two had a few minutes to discuss things?”

“What sort of things?”

“The future.”

~/*\~

Mirah had pulled herself together almost instantly, out of a long-trained habit. Paige needed a few minutes to let the tension of the conversation fade, so she excused herself to make some drinks, and a tray of snacks. They had a guest, after all. While the water boiled, she took the opportunity to pray and consider what was said. Father, if I thought Red could still be Returned, what would I do differently? What else is there to say that I hadn’t said a hundred times already? If Paradise isn’t enough to convince everyone, then nothing will be. And if it is enough to be convincing, then why not Return those we lost That Day? For that matter, why have a ministry at all, if this world was coming? Surely I’m not as convincing as Paradise-

She caught herself off guard as the water came to a proper boil. No, wait. That’s not fair. Mirah’s contemporaries saw dozens of miracles and still strayed. That’s the whole reason for this conversation. So if Miracles don’t convince people, and me trying to explain to my own husband couldn’t do it…

The thought roiled through her mind as she assembled some fruit and cheese on a platter. And yet millions of people were convinced enough to make it through the end of the world with none of those things.

“So… what is it?” She asked aloud, somewhere between helpless and awe. “Why does one believe, and another refuse, no matter what evidence he sees?”

Her eyes flicked to the picture of Red, framed on the wall. One of several she’d kept around the house. She’d returned to her old home in the city and salvaged a photo album. It had been in her family for more than a generation. Most of the pictures were of her husband’s side of the family. She wondered if she would meet any of them in the future.

She collected the tray and cups, looking pointedly away from his face. That particular question wasn’t going to be answered by standing alone in the kitchen.

~/*\~

Kenton was making polite smalltalk until they were both in the room. Once served his tea, he got to the point. “I’ve been looking at the Land Allotments that have gone unclaimed. It’s a longer list than you think.”

“The Returning is accelerating, and people usually take a while to figure out where they want to be.” Paige offered. She’d had similar conversations with Mirah.

“Right, but I’m looking at the calculations about how many people are likely to be returned eventually.” Kenton explained. “The problem isn’t finding enough room for everyone to have a fair amount of land, it’s that people, as individuals, don’t really know how to use it yet. Most of us are still city dwellers at heart. We’ve learned a lot already, and God’s hand-holding us through the transition; but I wonder if it’s not more efficient to try another way.”

He was coaxing them along like a salesman, but Paige jumped right to the point. “Is this that landshare deal that Nate was telling me about?”

“Almost a quarter of the congregation has signed on.” Kenton nodded. “Everyone gets an acre or so. You choose an area adjacent to someone you’re working with, and you share the work. I’ve got over forty people as a part of this. People who have their land allotments, but little training. Forty people working the whole area, trained and overseen by people who know what they’re talking about? That’s enough farmland to feed ten times that number, with half the individual effort. To say nothing of a proper microgrid, water reclamation… This sort of thing just isn’t practical on a small household scale, but works in a full sized ‘freehold’.”

Mirah shuddered. “We had people like that back in Egypt. In exchange for services rendered, they were granted overseer position over the other slaves. They didn’t have to work as hard, because they told others where to work.” She suddenly realized who she was talking to. “Oh. Not that…”

“Your flattering comparison aside, consider it from the other direction.” Kenton drawled, not offended. “Having a bunch of people working together constantly means they’re trained up as experts a lot faster. It means that our shared community produces a lot more than individual plots; and it means when each person takes a few days off, there’s little loss of manpower. I’ve done the math for next season. Mirah, you were a slave. How’d you like a four day work week, and three days leisure time?”

“It’s a good deal, Kenton.” Paige conceded while Mirah tried to imagine such leisure. “But I’m not sure I want to be a farmer forever. Forever is a very long time, after all.”

“Oh, I’m under no illusions.” Kenton nodded. “None of us are going to spend eternity in one place, doing the jobs we start with. That’s why I wanted to get this going early. Sooner or later, half my current partners are going to move on. Get married, have kids, meet their great-great-grandparents. All of those people will have allotments of their own. Don’t assume that where you are now is where you’ll be living in fifty years. Or a hundred. Or a million.”

“Yeah, but there is something.” Mirah said, studying Kenton. “This is giving you some advantage.”

“Sure, I won’t deny it.” He nodded easily. “Come on board, and I manage a larger plot of land. By the end of a decade, we’ll all be experts in each other’s skills. We’ll all be looking to the rest of the world for the Restoration work. Some people will have moved on, and moved in with other people on their own individual allotments far away; but their share of the Community Farm will still belong to the rest of us.”

“Sounds like a land grab.” Mirah told him lightly. “That’s what you called in your time, right?”

“Mirah, a hundred years from now, if you’re living with your Returned parents, your Returned husband; in land of your own, far from us? Are you really going to care what I do with your old place?” Kenton asked reasonably. “I don’t know what the economy is going to look like in a thousand years, or even if we’ll have money at all. But I do know that we have to act in good faith and generosity with each other. If this turns out to be bad for everyone, I’ll agree to end it. But for now, for right now… We could really use your expertise. You know more about the life skills of people provisioning their own food and clothing than most people alive. We have a lot to learn from you. The least we can do in return is offer you a far more leisurely life.” He spread his hands wide. “If nothing else, we’re all going to have to figure out ways for our family members to move on when nobody ever gets old or retires.”

Mirah and Paige looked at each other. “It’s my first big decision about how to manage my own affairs as a free woman.” Mirah said with excitement. “And I don’t know what to say. Even if I’d had freedom to decide back then, and land of my own, it would have been my husband’s choice. Before him, my father’s.”

Paige nodded. “I’ve never owned property or had two days off in a row either.” She admitted. “But for the first time, we can be sure that nobody’s taking advantage of us. That’s new territory for me, too. No more scams, ever.”

Kenton smiled a bit, and stood up. “I’ve heard that reaction a dozen times this week. Think it over. Get back to me in the morning. And thank you for the tea.”

~/*\~~/*\~~/*\~

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