We are the stories we tell about ourselves. We need to remember our stories to understand who we are.
– The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide, Vol. 1, excerpt from line 176
Sleepy Hollow was a mess. Unlike territories further upriver, Westchester was close enough to the chaotic boroughs of New York City that over the previous months it had become flooded with cars, tents, and makeshift lean-tos. There had been evidence of violence here as well. Some cars had been burned out, there was dried blood along the roads and the highways. It took a day for Bryan Fisher to locate the Barneses, a family Julia knew from the past, but luckily, he found them. The Barneses, an older couple who were both retired math professors from Vassar College, were eager to help. Bryan spent some time explaining what was happening up at the Tish estate. Barbara and Gordon fed the kids and Bryan and made them cocoa. Bryan asked about the conditions in the area.
"It's been mayhem, but thanks to a few cool heads, things are beginning to calm down," Gordon explained.
"Some people here took a hard line, protecting their property by any means necessary, but the influx of people eventually became too much," Barbara elaborated. "The rest of us had to make the hardened few see reason. There's no holding on to what's been lost. The only way forward is interdependence."
"How did the rest of you make them see reason?" Bryan asked.
"By any means necessary," Gordon said, flatly. "By our numbers, and in some cases, by force."
"It became clear," Barbara jumped in, "that those of us who kept the refugees from their land were flooding the rest of the area with people, who were just doing what any of us would do if we were escaping that ruin down south. It was intolerable that we should not all share the burden."
"Do you hear much about the city?" Bryan asked.
"We hear about little else. It's awful what happens to a city when the trucks stop coming," Barbara said.
"The trucks?" Bryan asked.
"Yes. There was an effort for a while to bring in supplies and food by helicopter and boat, but the roads are becoming impassable for tractor-trailers, and the money is worthless. There were millions of people with very little to eat. Trucks stopped arriving around June. Our government is in dissolution, what with the currency being devalued, and there's no way to get food into the city," Gordon explained. "The army and FEMA could only do so much with the entire coastline underwater. As I understand it, everything in the city is now controlled by gangs and militias. It's a terrible situation."
"Do you have room for the kids?"
"Of course we do," said Barbara. "We had some people staying here, but they moved on a week ago. We have a guest room upstairs. Will you be staying?"
"Only the night, if you don't mind," Bryan said. "I have to get back upriver to check on my husband and the rest of the community. I hope..."
"I'm afraid we can only offer you the sofa down here," Gordon said. "It's a pull-out."
"That's fine," Bryan said. "You are very generous."
Bryan stayed the night, making sure Maimonides and Avra were safe, and then he headed back to the boat.
Bryan knew very little about boats. Piloting the yacht had not been hard down the river, but when it came time to disembark, he had taken the boat as close to the shore as he dared, within sight of the Mario Cuomo Tappan Zee bridge, and dropped anchor. He then loaded the kids into the skiff and, not being able to get the outboard motor working, rowed them to shore. If he had only continued a little further, he would have found docks along a protected spit of land. He had been understandably distressed, but his hastiness cost him. The skiff he dragged onto shore was gone when he returned, and the yacht had drifted downriver, into the strong central currents of the Hudson. It was too far for him to swim.
He froze. Then he cursed. Then he shouted and screamed and pounded on a tree until his hands bled. Eventually, he made his way through the woods and along the road back to the Barneses.
"Do you have a boat?" he said in desperation at the door.
The Barneses didn't have a boat, but one of their neighbors, a man named Jonah, had a rowboat on a trailer. There was enough fuel in his truck to haul it down to the elusive dock Bryan had missed, and Jonah insisted on rowing him out into the Hudson toward the drifting yacht. The day was dark. A storm was coming in from the west, and as Jonah pulled on the oars, they saw another rowboat ahead of them, also pulling for the abandoned yacht.
"We have competition," grunted Jonah.
Bryan shouted at the other boat, but they didn't back off. The other boat had a ten-minute head start and though Jonah pulled as hard as he could, the other boat reached the yacht first.
"Please tell me you have the key," Jonah panted, exhausted.
Bryan didn't need to answer. A low gurgle came from the enormous boat along with the sound of the chain retracting, and in a minute, it was roaring away from them, down the river.
Bryan screamed profanities into the leaden wind and looked northward, up the Hudson, pleading with the fates to let Jake be okay.
• • •
"Water, Fish?" Reyleena asked him, holding out a glass. "I'm afraid I can't make tea here. I have plenty, but no way to boil water. I could fetch some from the main house."
Fish gathered his thoughts, bringing his mind back to the present. "Water's fine, thank you," he finally said.
They were sitting on cushions in a triangle inside the cabin, surrounded by piles of gifts stacked in the corners and along the walls of the cabin's solitary room.
"So, we're using words now?" Maxtor said aloud, after clearing his voice. "This will be interesting. When in Rome, I guess? Can I have water and some tea leaves?"
"When in Rome, you do like the Romans," Fish said to Maxtor as Reyleena unpacked a box of tea bags from her gifts. "That's how the saying goes. It means that when you are with people of a certain culture, you do what that culture would do. It's a saying from before your time. Where did you hear it?"
"Out in the aether, of course," replied Maxtor, waving his free hand. "Not everything died with your misfortunate civilization." He took the tea bag, put it in the water, and placed the glass on the windowsill where the sunlight was streaming in.
"You have to pardon me for not being more in awe," Reyleena said to Fish, "but my life has been full of surprises lately. It seems you were not killed by Raiders years ago, despite all the reports. Can I ask how you managed that?"
"You can ask, but my answer might be less than satisfactory," Fish replied. "I found it necessary to change my identity. I wanted to know if it could be done. It could, and I did. I had some help, and that is why I'm here to talk to you."
"To me, he's always been Gordon," Maxtor added, watching his tea. "I've always known him as Gordon, just a curiosity living in Pi Central. I had my eye on him for years as a person of interest. I can see I was right."
"And you." Reyleena turned her attention to the tawny-haired man. "You are Maxtor Uber-G? The inventor? I'm impressed."
"Far less than I am to meet you," Maxtor said, bowing again from his cushion on the floor. "We've been on a long, hard journey to find you. You're by far the most intriguing nexus in the room. You are, if we're not mistaken, host to an immense and portentous entity, are you not?"
["Tell them nothing."] The Other was back, their eyes bright orange, standing between the three of them.
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Reyleena lied.
"Right," said Fish. "Naturally, we didn't expect it to be as easy as that. No doubt we are in the presence of what my friend here calls The Leviathan, even now. I think it's fair to say we're never far from its presence, no matter where we go. You must know that, Reyleena. I guess it's telling you not to talk to us, even as we speak."
["They're trying to trick you,"] The Other insisted. ["They want to hold you responsible for what happened in Reverside."]
Reyleena kept her face as blank as she could, weighing her choices carefully. Confronted by a dead man from her past and a well-known creator of immense Merit, both of whom were speaking the truth, she found herself in a difficult situation. Could she tell them about The Other? They seemed to already know about them. Why didn't The Other want to be known? Her next words could change her future irreparably. The Other had never lied to her, but she longed to be free from her secret. Both of these men were worthy of knowing. Still, she knew little about their motivations. She sipped her water.
"Why are you really here?" she finally said.
Fish sighed. "I know we are talking to both you and that thing now. I want to tell you what I know, but I need to know if you think we can trust... it."
"What it? What are you talking about?" Reyleena said, stalling.
"Some things you yourself will see in your own heart, and some the divinity will put into your mind. I do not think you could have been born and reared without the gods' will." Maxtor said, mysteriously.
Fish looked at Maxtor. "Was that Herodotus?" he asked.
"Homer," replied Maxtor. "My favorite."
"So, you two are on a religious quest? You think I have the voice of God in my head?" Reyleena said with a smirk.
"It floats in and among us. It swims in the sea of data with the ease of something born in it," Maxtor whispered, leaning closer to Reyleena. "It has control over our fates. What would you call it other than a God?"
Reyleena allowed herself to shrug, realizing, too late, that she had given away her secret.
["I am no God,"] came the voice of The Other to the minds of the two men, the violet body solidifying before their astonished eyes.
"Ah, well, that's a relief," said Reyleena with a long exhalation. "Good work, you two. I hope you know what you're doing."