purification drops for herself, a box of preloaded syringes with vaccine. It was the smallest stack of supplies she'd received in months, and was woefully incomplete. She'd never missed a delivery. She wondered if a reduction in rations was the penalty for a first offense.
Her Informer signaled a summons. Terrified to answer it, but more terrified to ignore it, she opened the communications line. To her relief, the superior on the other end of the line had opted to communicate via text message. It was marginally easier to hide panic in a text message. It was still tricky, but it was more likely you'd survive this way.
"CC CH Julia, Ack." [Note: the message means Comrade Citizen Cattle Herder Julia, Acknowledge]
"Ack."
"Sit 42 stat. Nd inp." [Situation 42 status. Need input.]
"StandRed," [Standing Ready] she typed, dutifully.
"Rcvd report supplies arrived off time 2day. Correct or Ncorrect."
Julia balked, suspecting it was a test, and afraid that to fail it would mean a slow death by starvation.
Her unseen, unheard interrogator tried again, ominously switching the proceedings to full words, and more formality. "If you know, report. It is your duty. Do not be concerned with the fate of the helicopter pilots. They will answer to The Truth."
It hadn't occurred to Julia to be concerned about the helicopter pilots. In fact, she was fairly certain that it was improper to even consider it. She typed: "Forgive my delay, Superior. It was not due to suggested reason. Of course we all must answer to The Truth. It was that I did not know how to answer, given only options of correct or incorrect, when the fact is that I do not know. Was delayed with cattle elsewhere. I regret missing helicopter, for first time in my herding career. Will take extra measures to see that it does not happen again, but today, it did."
"It was correct of you to admit it. Are supplies there?"
"Yes."
"That is what we needed to know. To prevent further disruption to morale or to The Plan, do not report today's anomalies to anyone else. If asked, you will say only that supplies arrived on the appointed day, as expected."
"As you say, so shall it be," Julia typed, using the formality and deference expected of a citizen who was privy to anomalies, or guilty of same. As she expected, the connection was broken off without further comment. She checked her activity log, to see if she had slept through other messages or, worse yet, a random refresher quiz on Foundational Values. No. Wonder of wonders, today had been one of those days when her exile had been nearly complete. The relief was almost too much to bear.
She thought she heard something moving in brush near the river. Something rather large. Perhaps more than one creature. With horror, she realized that she'd leaned her bow and arrows against the haystack before crawling in for a nap, and forgotten them when she came out. She decided it was getting too dark to make it to the haystack and back safely (much less with suspected wolves, bears, mountain lions, or spies in the vicinity). She further decided that she needed food more than she needed her bow just now. Feeling justified for doing so, she abandoned poise and dignity and more or less hurdled into her hut.
Once inside, with the door firmly shut between her and whatever was outside, she decided that if she ever went into the haystack again for a nap, she would take her bow and arrows inside with her. A woman simply should not be without her bow in this wilderness.
Stanley Charbonneau turned to his companion. "Well, old chap, that went about as well as could be expected, don't you think?"
"I'd be happier," Joel Johnson said, "If she hadn't heard us mucking along and panicked."
"You don't think she actually saw us?"
"My impression is no. My impression, however, is possibly as valuable as rotten tomatoes."
"Let's swing up the hill, and see how the birdwatcher team is doing, shall we?"
"Only because Ott ordered us to, once we were done here. I'm half frozen."
"Ooh, poor baby," Stanley said. "Now, why don't we cut the chatter, since we're in enemy territory, on a day designed to make them even more suspicious and ruthless than usual?"
Joel nodded assent, in a way that suggested, barely short of insubordination, that he thought it was cute of his boss to cut off chatter right after calling him a poor baby.
About ten feet later, Stanley slowly sank to the ground and motioned to Joel to do the same. "Thought I saw her looking out the window," he whispered.
Joel cautiously repositioned himself so he could peer through bushes at the herder's hut. "I hate it when you're right, sir," he reported, speaking low. "On the upside, she's not looking at us."
"Big upside, that. Now hush, unless there's something to report."
They waited a couple of minutes, then slithered to lower ground, crawled on their hands and knees until there was better cover, then worked their way carefully to the bridge and across.
"Bless this frozen ground," Joel said, as they worked their way painstakingly up the hill to the birdwatcher's quarters.
"Didn't you just complain about the cold? Frozen ground is cold," Stanley said.
"Yes, it's cold, but can you imagine doing this in snow or mud? Leaving tracks every step of the way?"
"Don't get spoiled. Now hush, will you?"
They circled around to where Adrian Alcorn and his team were supposed to be based, if circumstances allowed for it. Adrian and his crew were in a huddle. It was not a happy huddle.
"Don't tell me," Stanley said. "You got done hours ago, and decided to wait, out of tender concern for us. Next time, get inside a warm, friendly hole. Really."
"I wish," Adrian said.
"Trouble?"
"He hasn't come out since we got here, so we haven't been able to see if he's acting like he suspects something is up. We've been playing with electronics, but we're blocked from his Informer. On the bright side, we haven't intercepted any incoming red alerts, so hopefully Topside is blissfully unaware that there was suspicious activity around here today. On the other hand, they might have decided it wasn't worth sending a message to an area about to be nuked for failing to make Greenley look good. I couldn't tell you. We're down to guesses, based on no data – unless you call tightly closed curtains on a cabin that usually has open curtains data."
"I vote to call it quits for the day," Stanley said.
Since he was senior officer, and since they were already down to barely more than starlight, and since they'd already been in hostile territory longer than anticipated, they didn't put it to a vote. They wove their way down the hill, rounded a haystack, and disappeared into the ground.
Renzo's day had gone so very well, at first.
The bird count turned up exactly the birds expected for the day, based on statistics. Counts rarely did match the averages, which fact distressed the central planners, who found it impossible to properly plan when obviously-not-yet-perfected Nature refused to run like a clock. Renzo knew that sometimes the top men in the Department of Statistics for the Good of Society would adjust field reports, to stabilize the foundational data – and rightly so, if they did it scientifically, he thought – but it was pleasant to give them a report that had no need for adjustment. Besides, it made him steadier in his own mind to have firsthand evidence that the big, messy world was indeed becoming predictable, steady, and less messy.
On top of that, his Lesson went especially well. It was on the glorious future, when men would be perfect, because Society would be perfect, because conditions were perfect. Today, it felt especially inspiring, because he felt it happening.
On top of that, today he felt almost grown up, ready to face the world with only the occasional refresher course, instead of daily lessons. He'd been afraid he'd be nervous about growing up, and being that much on his own. But, no. He was, indeed, nearly ready.
Feeling altogether too inspired to stay inside, and also indulging an urge to see if the cattle herder was somewhere he could see her, he took a walk. He found the first wildflowers of the season; just a handful of small blooms, but, still,
they were flowers after a season without any. He noticed then that the air still had the smell of upwind snow, but today there was overlay of fresh plant smells, and an earthy aroma almost like cooked food. He realized that he'd been seeing greening grass here and there for a couple of days, without it fully registering. He got on his hands and knees for a closer look at the ground. There were seedlings of various sorts, very tiny yet, mostly in areas that got the most sun. Also, there were barely noticeable bumps that signaled a seedling pushing up, but not yet breaking through. Applauding himself for his powers of observation, he went hunting for the cattle herder, or, rather, for a look at her. It would never do to initiate actual contact, unless instructed to do so – or, unless, perhaps, another emergency arose. Despite all his careful upbringing, being a young man in the prime of life, cut off from a setting that better allowed for heroics, he had something of a hope that somehow she would need his help again. He dutifully dressed this hope up in the proper costumes; he would, of course, be serving Government and Society and History and Order first of all, by helping her.
She wasn't anywhere to be seen. Cattle were huddled near the haystack, as expected – but he fancied that it wasn't just to remain close to the food. He'd learned, so he thought, to find Julia by taking hints from the herd. The hints were that she was close by. But he didn't see her.
It being