Circuit Of Heaven (40 page)

The next letter, a few months later, was posted from Malaysia where, at eighty-three, she’d been assigned a small rural school to administer. Not too long after that, Pope Pius
XIII
entered the Bin and issued a papal bull declaring
ALMA
to be the work of God on earth and home to the Most Holy Catholic Church. Sarah continued to run her school, even after she was told to shut it down. She also worked to organize resistance to the Pope’s actions with meager results.

Justine opened the last letter. From the looks of it, it was the one Angelina had read and reread over the years so she wouldn’t forget it, even as her memory was relentlessly slipping away:

MAY
1, 2055

Dear Angelina
,

I leave for the Vatican tomorrow. This will be my last letter, though I trust we will meet again with God’s grace. As you must know, we have all been excommunicated. At first this threw me into a rage. ‘I have given my life to the Church!’ I shouted, stamping my feet like you used to do when you were in a rage. But then I prayed and was reminded I’d given my life to Christ—who’d given it to me in the first place, and not to the Church
.

As the newspeople never tire of pointing out, what we intend to do is a mortal sin. But for us, it is no different from what the Pope has done. We have no less faith in our immortal souls than he has in his technology. If our act of faith prompts one person to choose God’s love over a machine, then we will not have died in vain. If this is sin, I trust in Christ’s infinite mercy
.

I have written you so that you will know I died doing what I must do, with a faithful heart and a clear conscience. We are both old now, my little angel, and know how hard it can be to know the right thing to do, and how important, when it is known, to do it. God be with you, Angelina
.

Your sister in Christ’s love
,

Sarah

A sob caught in her throat, and Justine broke down. Angelina, as well. All of them grieved for Sarah, all of them remembered her. This was why Angelina had stayed out of the Bin against all entreaties. Even her own daughter hadn’t known. She was being faithful to the memory of her first friend, a young nun who let her sing, and forgave her sins, then killed herself for a lost cause.

Justine gathered up the letters, tied them in a bundle, and returned them to their hiding place. She hurried down the stairs and out the front door.

“My God,” Freddie said when he saw her. “You look positively dreadful.”

“Tell him I want to download. Tell him I want to do it as soon as I can.”

JUSTINE
WAS
TOLD
TO BE AT MR. MENSO’S
SHOP
AT
FIVE
o’clock. She was ten minutes early when she walked in. Mr. Menso sat waiting for her.

“Sit down, Justine. They should be here any minute.”

She sat on the edge of the sofa, bit her lip and looked around the room. “Did you know about Sarah’s letters?”

“Yes. I made you, Justine. I know everything you know.”

Justine gave a bitter laugh. “Then you’re way ahead of me. Is there anything else you want to fill me in on?”

“I can’t just hand it to you. You have to put it together yourself. We all do.”

“Lucky us. He burned everything that had to do with us. He stuffed it in the fireplace and set fire to it like so much trash, destroying the evidence.”

“He’s angry and confused.”

“When I show up in someone else’s body, he’ll probably dance a little jig.”

“We don’t have to do this, Justine. It’s your decision.”

“Will you quit saying that? Everything’s been your goddamn decision. I can stay in here—and he hates me—or I can go out there—and he hates me. Pardon me if I’m not grateful for my choices. But I’m going out. You understand that sort of desperate choice, don’t you, Newman? Out there, there’s that slim little chance he’ll come around.”

“Yes, I understand perfectly.”

“When can I do it?”

“Tomorrow, at noon.”

The bell clanged, and a shapely woman in a dress made from old blue jeans stepped cautiously into the room, Lawrence ducking through the door behind her. She was very beautiful, with large dark eyes, and black hair hanging down to her waist.

“Justine,” Mr. Menso said, rising to his feet, “this is Elaine.”

Justine shook her hand, long slender hands, rough with calluses.

“Lawrence and I will leave you two alone,” he said, offering Elaine his chair.

Elaine stood, staring after them as they retreated into the back of the shop. “Was that really Newman Rogers?”

“Yes.”

“The Construct told me that Newman Rogers would be here, but I didn’t know whether to believe him or not—you know how they are. Imagine: I actually met Newman Rogers.”

“You want to sit down?”

“Sure, sure.” She sat down in the chair, still staring toward the back of the shop. “Why does he let himself look old like that?”

“He wants to remember his age.”

“Why in the world would he want to do that?”

“Could we forget about him for a moment? Do you know why you’re here?”

Elaine shrugged, now looking around at all the books. “You want to download into my body when I come in.”

“That’s right,” Justine said. The woman’s attitude puzzled her. They might’ve been discussing a lease on a house.

Elaine pulled a hairbrush out of her bag and started brushing her hair, holding the ends in front of her, working out the tangles. “You know what it’s like out there?”

“I’ve got a fair idea.”

Elaine nodded. “You a Christian?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“Where I come from, that’s a no. Raised Christian, married Christian. Makes you wonder why I’m sinning like this.” She tilted her head to one side and brushed her hair with long, steady strokes. “Why’re you downloading, anyway?”

“There’s someone I love. He lives outside. I want to be with him.”

Elaine threw her hair over her shoulder, and starting working on the other side. “That’s so romantic! You must really love him. Do you think he’ll think I’m pretty?”

Justine squirmed inside, thinking of Nemo making love to this woman. “Any man would.”

Elaine blushed, stopped her brushing, and touched her face with her fingertips. “My husband married me because I’m pretty. Least that’s what he told me. But he doesn’t like it. He says he does, but he doesn’t. He says I’m vain, but I’m not. He’s the one thinks I’m pretty.”

“Why are you coming inside, Elaine?”

Elaine seemed surprised by the question. “I don’t want to get old.” She looked around the room, but didn’t find anything that interested her. She put her brush back in her bag. “You’ll have to stay away from Virginia Beach. That’s where I’m from. You wouldn’t want my husband catching sight of you. He’s into guns. That’s what he does. Makes guns.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“So you think you’re going to do it? The Construct said I had to meet you first. Make sure I was okay.”

“Yes, I’m going to do it.”

“Great. I’ve got one condition, though. You’ve got to promise me a proper burial. I don’t want to get burned up. You promise?”

So that was why Elaine agreed to do this. She wanted to cover all her bases, make sure her body was outside waiting for the Rapture, in case the Christians were right. “Sure, Elaine. I promise.”

Elaine heaved a sigh of relief. “I guess that’s it, huh?” She smiled at Justine. “Unless you’ve got something you want to ask me.”

Justine tried to imagine herself behind those beautiful, vacant eyes. “Elaine, do you ever sing?”

“Me? You’ve got to be kidding. I’m—what do you call it when you can’t tell one note from another?”

“Tone deaf.”

“That’s right. Tone deaf. That’s what I am. I’m healthy as a horse, though, in case you’re wondering.” The sound of rain beating against the window started up outside, a few drops at first, and then a steady shower. “Damn,” she said. “Now I’m going to get all wet. I don’t understand why they let it rain in here. Do you?”

But Justine didn’t answer.

JONATHAN
AND
NEMO
WERE
SITTING
ON JONATHAN’S front porch in a pair of rockers, looking out at the rain in the early evening. Thunder rumbled lazily all around them. Nemo had just told him the whole story.

Jonathan summed it up: “Let me see if I’ve got all this straight. Newman Rogers is your grandfather, Justine is your grandmother, and you’re going to carry Gabriel’s virus into the Bin and cut it off from the world forever.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you. Who would make up something like this? Why do you think he’s doing it?”

“Who?”

“Newman Rogers. Your parents didn’t come up with this on their own. It sounds to me like they were just being used. From what you’ve told me, he’s the only one who would want to create Justine.”

“How the hell should I know why Newman Rogers does anything? Maybe he wants to kidnap the grandson he’s never seen. Maybe he’s just nuts. That would certainly explain a lot of things.”

Jonathan stared thoughtfully at the rain. “I don’t know. I sure wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.” He shook his head at the thought. “So why are you carrying in this virus?”

Nemo almost hadn’t told Jonathan anything—to avoid this very question. “It should be obvious. The place is a fucking menace.”

“But that’s not why you’re doing it.”

Nemo sighed. Jonathan was right, as usual. Couldn’t he just keep it to himself for once? “No. It’s not. That doesn’t make it any less true, does it?”

But he wasn’t to be turned aside so easily. “It’s Justine you’re hiding from, not the Bin.”

“I’m not
hiding
from anything.”

“Have you told her what you’re going to do?”

“Of course not.”

“Sounds like you’re hiding to me. Don’t you think you might at least tell her good-bye? I thought you loved her, had faith in her.”

“I did.”

And then he stopped. He just rocked back and forth, watching the rain. The past tense had told him everything he wanted to know.

“Goddamnit Jonathan! What is this?
I told you so
?”

“Not at all.”

“Look, come tomorrow at noon, none of this will matter. It will be over, finished. So don’t start quoting scripture on me.”

“I haven’t quoted any scripture.”

“Not yet. I can feel it building.”

“All right. No scripture. We’ll even leave Justine out of it for the moment. What makes you think you’ve got the right to make this decision for everyone?”

“If I don’t do it, Jonathan, they’ll just find somebody else.”

“Then it will be somebody else’s decision, and I can ask him the same question. I still haven’t heard your answer.”

“So you think I’m doing the wrong thing.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just asking you a question.”

“Like hell. I thought you would be happy to hear I wasn’t going in. You’re the one who’s so damn concerned about my immortal soul.”

“I still am, but there’s more to salvation than whether you go into the Bin or not.”

“Right. I still have no faith. And I’m not likely to get any anytime soon. So let’s not worry about that either, okay?”

“You had faith in Justine, but you’ve lost it. Now you think you can just turn your back on her, and everything will go back the way it was. But it can’t, Nemo. Don’t you understand that? I saw it that night I met her—she fills a void in you. Maybe you didn’t even know it was there. But now you do, and you know what it’s like not to feel hollow. That changes everything. Do you think if I lost my faith tonight, I could just pick up where I left off?”

“When would that be, two years old?”

“Fourteen. About a week before I met you.”

“But I thought—”

“I know what you thought. You figured because my dad’s Christian, and my mom, and my brother, and everybody in my family for as long as anybody tells me about—that I was just given faith like brown hair and blue eyes? I was standing in line at Receiving when they dropped the ban on minors. I’d been following the story, and I was ready.

“There was this kid working the line, witnessing. The same thing I did at his age, because that’s what you were supposed to do. He comes to me and starts in saying the exact same things I’d said. Things I’d never believed. So I looked him in the eye and said, ‘You’re lying, kid. You don’t believe any of this stuff any more than I do.’ That’s all it took. He broke down crying right there, practically hysterical, so I stepped out of the line, sat him down, and tried to calm him, but I’d really gotten to him. And before I knew it, I was quoting scripture to him. All those lies. But this time I wanted them to work, to stop this boy from crying. I wanted it to be true, and for the very first time, it all made sense to me. I didn’t get back in line.”

“I’m sorry, Jonathan. How come you’ve never told me about this before?”

He sighed. “Too ashamed, I guess. That little kid—I don’t even know his name. He took my place in line. I’ve always felt like he gave his life for mine.”

“Maybe that’s how he feels about you.”

“Maybe so.”

They rocked quietly. The rain ringing through the downspout. The thunder closer now. “So what should I do, Jonathan? It sounds like you’re saying I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.”

Jonathan shook his head. Nemo had never seen him look sadder. “I don’t know,” he said.

“But you always know, Jonathan. You’re always so sure about everything. What do you think I should do?”

Jonathan rested his head on the back of the rocker. His voice was tired and defeated, as quiet as the rain. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I just don’t know.”

“NEMO!” A
VOICE
BOOMED
FROM
DOWN
THE
STREET
. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” It was Lawrence, his scales glistening in the rain, jogging toward them. He mounted the porch steps in two strides.