“But why did the women go along with it?” the young man who had been smiling in the beginning asked.
“I don’t think they had much choice, or maybe they just didn’t know things could be different. Who knows?” I threw my hands up in the air. “We historians can only base our assumptions on the clues left behind and, as you know, much was lost during the war. I encourage you to visit the post-war museum to get a better understanding of the old world. When you do you’ll also see the impressive exhibition of extinct and nearly extinct animals. There’s a huge one called an elephant that looks really funny with a long nose.”
I continued to ask the students questions, and when one of them closed her eyes as if calling for her virtual assistant before answering me, I made a mental note that I’d have to address the use of implants in my class. I would never understand how this new generation could be so reckless. Brain implants had been a huge thing before the Toxic War but it had proven unsafe and an easy target for hackers once the war broke out. Everyone knew that not a single person with a brain implant had survived, and yet these kids thought their implants were safer and that what happened to our ancestors could never happen to them.
After forty-five minutes of teaching my wristband vibrated, telling me it was time to end the lecture. “That’ll be all for today. I look forward to seeing more of you for my next class.”
Knowing that at least fifty students were watching from home, I said: “And before we end, I’ll answer one more question about the Nmen for the students who are physically here.” I turned off the transmission and smiled at my audience. “You get one bonus question.”
A sea of hands went up in the air.
“Yes?”
The young woman I chose looked excited and flushed red when everyone turned to look at her.
“Is it true that they eat dogs?”
All eyes turned to me. “I’m not sure about their eating dogs, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they did, since we know they are hunters in general.”
Shocked gasps were heard all around. “They really kill animals?” someone asked with a brittle voice.
I picked up my book on Ancient Greece and placed it in my bag. “Yes, they really do hunt and kill animals, and I’ll tell you more about it some other time.”
With a smile of satisfaction, I left my outraged audience knowing that by the time I reached the lecture on the Nmen this auditorium would be filled with curious youngsters seeking answers to the mystery they had grown up listening to rumors about.
CHAPTER 2
The Yellow Bike
People mostly smiled when I made my way through town on my yellow bike. It was a replica of how bikes used to look four hundred years ago and even had a basket in front with yellow flowers.
I couldn’t help it; I’d always had a fetish for everything historic and quaint. Besides, it might be antique in style, but my bike still complied with the environmental rules and generated power when I rode it. I was a proud contributor of at least half the amount of power I used every day. The other half I earned by teaching at the University and at the senior center, and by volunteering in my building’s community garden.
Most buildings had urban gardens growing in row upon row of specially made boxes up the wall of the buildings. It was both beautiful, with all the colors, and practical, as we shared the responsibility of nurturing the plants and herbs with our neighbors and always had seasonal vegetables available.
I pressed harder on my pedals to pass by two slow-moving women who seemed to have all the time in the world. It wasn’t that I was stressed; I just wanted to get ten minutes to catch my breath and find my inner peace before my important meeting with the councilwoman, Pearl.
With a smile on my lips I visualized her approving my request to go on an archeological field job again. Maybe even back to the blue area, where the former city of New York offered plenty of fascinating digging sites. The once-huge city had been left in ruins after the war, but a new and more environmentally friendly city had sprung up, and there was always excitement when something from the old world was found and retrieved. Two years ago, I had helped excavate a treasure of old wisdom when the head of a stone lion had been found on a building site. Our team had uncovered the remains of a museum: an incredible find that had provided us with material to study for years to come and made me hungry for more on-site experiences.
I parked my bike outside the city hall and took a second to look up at the intricate design of the vertical garden. Lavender offered a nice purple color to contrast with all the green herbs. I spotted mint, parsley, dill, and rosemary.
“May peace surround you,” a passer-by greeted me with a smile.
“And you,” I politely returned. Like me she was wearing comfortable clothes in warm colors made of soft fabric, and flat ballerinas.
The minute I opened the door to the large foyer of the town hall, I was met by the soothing sound of running water provided by the impressive fountain in the middle. It had a color-changing feature that played against the water, reflecting beautifully on the walls like a human-made rainbow.
With councilwoman Pearl nowhere to be seen, I took a minute to sit by the fountain and closed my eyes to center myself.
Of course, they’ll approve my request. I’ve done excellent work these past two years and kept out of trouble. It’ll be fine.
Smiling, I envisioned walking out of the building with good news, but my lovely visualizations were interrupted by a group of people speaking in hushed voices not far from me. At first, I tried to shut them out and focus on my breathing, but one sentence got my attention.
“It will have to be a male archeologist but so far all have refused.”
I automatically squeezed an eye open to see them better.
“It’s unlikely they’ll find a volunteer; no one is that suicidal,” a man with a long black braid proclaimed in a loud whisper. “It’s a shame because it would be exciting to get answers, wouldn’t it?”
