Thy Eternal Summer (4/15)

It didn't take too long for Ava to sign back on after she left Jack's room. 1

“Hey,” Jack said.2

“Hey,” she responded, looking a little sad.3

“You all right?” Jack said.4

“I'm...” Ava stood there for a moment with her mouth open, looking very pretty in that pose. She closed her mouth again and shook her head. “Nothing.”5

Knowing he had just been told a lie, Jack said, “Okay.” He paused a moment, moved some squares around on Stack 'Em. “You know, I can see the attraction for the life of the Wandering Samurai.”6

“What?” said Ava, in surprise and a bit of disgust. “But it's so sad! He always loses everything he loves. The girls always go away, he can't settle down because he's wandered so much... It's just... sad.”7

“Yeah,” said Jack. He thought a moment. “But that's what they want you to think. We are such an enslaved people... I mean, we can't even dream of a world where someone could do something like that, a world where it wasn't considered wrong and socially... what is it? Reprehensible? To not go to school and then go to advanced school and then settle down and reproduce to further our race, or do as much of that as we can. I mean, what is the wandering Samurai giving up? A family, to eat his food and give him crap. A life where every day, every week, every month, every year is pretty much the same.”8

“Love,” said Ava, a bit emotionally. 9

Jack snorted. “Love's worth as much pain as it is anything else. Besides, he's got love. Those girls love him, usually, even if they have to leave. The people he helps love him. And I bet he helps a lot more people than any of the people he helps, the ones who just live at home with their families and are normal and suck.”10

“Well...” said Ava, trying to process all this. “Yeah, I suppose.”11

The next day, Jack went to all his morning classes, then turned down the hall to head for the detention rooms. He turned into the bright white hallway to see the guard, oddly backlit in this setting. 12

“Where are you going, little man?” the guard said. He seemed genuinely angry.13

“Um... detention,” answered Jack, dumbly.14

The guard grabbed him by the arm, and propelled him the opposite direction to which he was going. “Don't you read your mails? It's a power loss drill today.”15

“A what?” said Jack, still walking backwards. 16

“A power loss drill... Just come with me, truant.”17

They went back the way Jack had come, and were soon mixed in with the mob of kids. Jack managed to twist his way out of the guard's grip. He looked around for people he knew, especially Ava, but there were too many faces and the crowd was packed too tightly and moving too fast.18

They were, he soon discovered, headed for the theatre at the center of the school. This was the place where they had the Presidents' Day plays, the War Memorial Concert, the Thanksgiving Pageant, and school assemblies. It was the one room in the building where everybody, students, staff, and teachers, could all fit. 19

It was a big room, rows of chairs laid out in ranks before the wide wooden stage. It had a multiplicity of lighting options, but Jack had never seen it as it was now: completely dark. It was a disconcerting feeling, to walk and feel the press of the crowd around you, feel the breath on your skin and hear the grumbles and shouts of students, but not to be able to see any of the teeming life around you. Jack began to get dizzy.20

Hands began grabbing him, mostly the annoying slimy hands of students, but a few with the strong authoritative grip of one actually in charge of something. He was simply pushed along at first, made to stumble and move faster, upsetting the flow around him. Then a pair of hands grabbed him and pushed him into a row. He stumbled down it, falling and catching himself on chair backs. He kept moving until he realized that he had just caught himself on someone's shoulder, and felt his way into the chair below him. 21

After a while, a fairly long while, the rustling and jostling ceased and people were seated and the authority figures' orders to hush were finally obeyed. Then the strange thing happened. No lights were lit, no spotlights focused. From the edges of the room, large but soft and really ineffective lights sprang up. Craning his neck, Jack realized he recognized them from Ancient History. They were candles. He wasn't sure why they were here, though; he would have thought nobody made them these days. 22

They sat in the near dark for a long time. Students talked and shouted and threw things around him. Nobody seemed to know what was going on; nobody seemed to care. Jack heard the unmistakable sounds of making out. He wished Ava was next to him. 23

After a while, the spotlight did come on, focusing on a tall man in a business suit who moved to front stage. He was the principal, rarely seen by students save on this stage. He was an imposing man, though he had somewhat of a reedy voice. He stopped and surveyed the assembly, only about half of which surveyed him in return. 24

He raised his arms, and the house lights came up. They were blindingly white, and they hurt Jack's eyes. He opened them after a while to see a hastily straightened up crowd paying attention—or pretending to—to the principal. 25

“Hello, all,” said the principal. “I'd like to thank you for participating in our little drill today. Those of you who read your school mails, you have an idea what we've been doing. But some elaboration, perhaps, is called for.”26

He took a deep breath. “There is some threat to the energy supply in our country. Nothing serious, nothing to be alarmed about, but grave enough that if something did happen we would want to be prepared. That was the purpose of this exercise today; if something happens—which, we all fervently hope, it never will—we want to know what we're going to do and how we're going to do it. You, in such an eventuality, have a very simple job—come in here, and sit down. You will have people guiding you, as you did today, and as long as you obey them, you should be safe. 27

“There are people around you who have harder jobs than you, who will be working to keep you safe. Fire crews and law enforcement and power companies, all orchestrating to make sure you stay safe, even in the worst of emergencies. 28

“We would not have the energy crisis we do if we had more scientists and engineers. So I would like to encourage those of you with any aptitude for the hard sciences to go into those fields. Thank you all. I believe it is slightly over time for our day. You are all dismissed to go home.”29

Jack, to be contrary, walked slowly through the crowd of hurrying students. Slowly he made his way to the white hallway, to carry out his detention.30

The guard was standing outside the doorway, his face red, talking hurriedly into his shoulder. He looked mad and worried about... something. He looked up at Jack as he walked up, at first looking at him as if not seeing him. Then his eyes widened. He spoke into his shoulder. “We've got him. He's here. Er... call off the search.”31

He clapped Jack on the shoulder and propelled him to the doorway, his eyes still wide. He seemed to be conflicted between anger and surprise and appreciation. He pushed Jack into the room, but stood there staring at him for a moment.32

“Why...?” he started, but he couldn't finish it.33

“Why what?” said Jack, truly confused.34

“Why did you... come back?”35

“Why not?” said Jack. “You bastards would just track me down and make me stay in this hellhole longer, if I skipped out on you.”36

The guard's eyes had hardened again on the word Bastards, but he still seemed amazed. “I... guess so, yeah. I...” he leaned in close. “I won't report your reading. Just go ahead, and don't worry about the camera.”37

Jack's eyes widened now, but he nodded. “Er... thanks.”38

The guard broke eye contact suddenly, as if remembering regulations. He turned and shut the door behind him.39

The rest of the week went fairly smoothly. Jack served out his detention with equanimity; he didn't even have to bother concealing his book from the guard anymore. On Friday Jack and Ava went to see Mr. Cullman again. They were each handed a fair sized wad of Bens, and thanked for their service. They were grilled again about their sources, but remained steadfast. 40

Soon enough, it was Saturday. Jack's father was in a drunken stupor from the night before, and Jack and Ava spent Saturday morning watching the WV Saturday specials and making out. They ate lunch and cleared out just in time to avoid Jack's dad. They went to Ava's for a little while. Her mom was out, engaged in some service project or other. They listened to music and watched WV for a little while. Then Jack said:41

“Okay, get your purse. We're going downtown.”42

Jack wouldn't say any more, so she got her purse and put on her shoes and followed him outside. They walked along the street toward downtown. The day was beautiful, the sun bright and the sky blue and a few clouds very white. People were out taking care of their lawns, their cars, their houses, walking their dogs, exercising in some form or other—walking, biking, jogging. Children played, their games spilling from yard to yard and into the streets. 43

“So, where are we going?” said Ava, once again. “A cool kids party?”44

Jack snorted. “Yeah right.”45

“Well, where then?”46

“Patience, my dear, patience.”47

Ava sighed.48

The center of town was the least regular part of it. It was mainly one street, Main, but it had several switchbacks and corollaries, side streets that were only as long as one real street. It had been the part of town mainly left alone back when the redesigning took place. They arrived in the middle of Main Street, caught in a rush of traffic, human and vehicular. Cars were rushing through, hotshot students taking advantage of the one place where the government enforcement couldn't get you. Parents with small children wandered the sidewalks, pointing at window displays and talking in goo goo voices. Older people with more pressing business hurried in and out of doorways.49

Jack turned down Main Street, and Ava followed. They walked past gaudy store displays, buildings with stock readings, a candy store, a toy store, the post office. Jack led her past the last building on the street, where the road started to turn into highway. He slid over the metal safety guard at the side of the road, and lifted her over it. They half slid down the grassy embankment, and onto a side road. Jack, she realized, was headed toward a small building, set off to the side of the road. In fact, no road led to it, nor any sidewalk. It was set in the shadow of the road above it, and a government office building next to it. Except from this angle and a couple others, it was essentially hidden from the human eye.50

Jack led her up to the door, which had a small OPEN sign on it, and opened it for her. Inside it was dark, but when her eyes got used to it, she saw a world of wonders. The place smelled musty, like the inside of a cave she had visited once. It was essentially a large room, lined with shelves. And on these shelves were books, books of every shape and size. They looked old, some of them with rotting covers and pages falling out. There was some kind of magnificence here that she couldn't place. She just... didn't have the words.51

Immediately before them was a large wooden desk, with stacks of books and papers piled on it, and an old woman sitting behind it. She wore an old fashioned blouse and pants, her hair up in a bun, glasses perched on her nose. She was the picture of propriety. She glanced up, and the cold hawk disappeared from her face when she smiled. Her eyes lit up, a little.52

“Jack!” she exclaimed. 53

“Hello,” said Jack. He gestured to Ava. “Ava,” he said. “This is Miss Prism.”54

The old lady laughed softly—why, Ava wasn't sure. She held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear,” she said.55

“Thank you,” said Ava, a little taken aback. “You... you too.”56

“We'd just like to look around for a while, if that's okay,” said Jack.57

Miss Prism smiled. “Certainly, certainly. I'll be here if you need me.”58

“Thanks,” said Jack, smiling at her.59

He led Ava toward a section of shelves marked “800s”. He reached for one of the old books, a big one with a white cover with pastel letters on it. He had to work a little, to get the book down, because it was jammed in tightly with several other books. He led her to a table in the corner, illumined by a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. 60

They sat at the table, and Jack flipped through the book, looking for something. “Here it is,” he said, finally. “Something I've been wanting to read you. Shakespeare's “Shall I compare Thee to a Summer's Day?””61

Ava perked up. “Oh, I've read that one.”62

Jack grinned. “You think so.” He began to read.63

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.64

She began to say something along the lines of, “See, I have read this,” but he kept talking.65

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 66

When he finished and closed the book, she sat stunned for a few minutes. Finally, she said, “What was... all that?”67

“All what?” Jack said, trying hard to conceal a grin.68

“All... all the rest of it. That wasn't in the poem.”69

Jack grinned. “It was originally. The people who decide what's appropriate for us decided we didn't need to soil our eyes with it. Wasn't that nice of them?”70

She could only snort her agreement with his sarcasm.71

He flipped through the book again. “Do you remember the poem we had to learn for English last year, “The Airman Foresees His Death”?”72

She thought a moment. “The short little one by... the druggie guy?73

Jack laughed. “Yeah, that.” He handed her the book again. “Look there. You'll recognize part of the title, the first lines, and the last couple.” 74

She took the book. The page was headed “An Irish Airman Foresees his Death”.75

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind,
In balance with this life, this death.76

Ava found herself suddenly short of breath. “That was...” words suddenly seemed inadequate. “Awesome,” she said, and regretted it, because it seemed like an insult. 77

Jack grinned. “Yeah, it really is.” He took the book back, and flipped through it again. “The first time I came in here, I was really depressed about... something. I was half hoping this was some forbidden government building and they'd shoot me and get it over with. Instead I found...” he gestured around him, the motion seeming inadequate. “This. Miss Prism.” He grinned, shook his head. “She took one look at my face and set me down with this poem.” He handed her the book.78

The poem was by a man named Edgar Allen Poe, and was called “Annabelle Lee.” Ava read through it. It had a powerful effect on her as well, but it wasn't an effect she liked.79

“That's horrible,” she said. “That would just make me more depressed.”80

Jack smiled. “Yeah, you'd think so. But it didn't, for me. It helped. It was like... like somebody else in this world has gone through the same thing, only worse, and he was able to write like this about it... I don't know, it just... helped.”81

Ava nodded. She thought she knew what he meant, but she wasn't sure. “Well...” she said. “Wow.”82

Jack smiled, took her hand. “That's pretty much what I said, the first time I got here. And I haven't even shown you Romeo and Juliet.”83

“We did Romeo and...” he fixed her with a look. “No, I suppose we didn't.”84

Jack grinned. “Exactly.”85

Shakespeare, Dunsany, TS Eliot, Clemens, Dickens, Hemingway, London. Poe, Hawthorne, Melville. Austen and Lady Gregory and Dickinson. Keats and Yeats, the rhymers who didn't rhyme. The hours after school became an intoxication of words and thoughts and feelings and images, tumbling one on top of another in a manner that was sometimes excruciating, sometimes painful, sometimes funny or thrilling or threatening—but always exhilarating. 86

These dead men rose from the dust to breath their old stories, sing their old songs, to their captive audience. A smaller audience than they were used to of old, perhaps, but one no less thrilled. An audience largely ignorant at first, one that had to dig out old dusty dictionaries from the reference section to look up old dusty words that the dead men used; or sometimes, one that would simply make up meanings for those words. 87

But the audience didn't mind these hardships. If there was a heaven, as the superstitious people in old days believed, surely these great men and women had been blessed with small visions, small fragments of the heavenly light... even if some of them were unable to recognize it for what it was. 88

The librarian looked on them, and she smiled. Her name was not Miss Prism; they would discover the joke in time, if they lifted the right oyster, opened the right cover. What her name really was hardly mattered any more. She had been born in the right year, exactly the right one. Her parents were flagrantly cultural, when that was a sin but not a crime. They had held their heads high and raised their child in the finest tradition of reading and writing and rhetoric. And when the revolution came and those things were made illegal, they had continued to teach her, in secret. 89

And she had gone to university, because she had to make a living for herself, for no young man would touch a girl with such a flagrantly cultural background. She had, with heavy heart and anger behind her eyes, renounced the ways of literature and the higher forms of music and all other thought provoking material, as the inciter of hatred and cause of pain and destroyer of lives that it had been scientifically proven to be.90

But her heart was rebellious.91

When they began burning libraries, she knew she would die if she sat by and did nothing. And so, using the skills of rhetoric and argument she had been taught (but carefully, so those around her would not detect such Sophistry), she had set out to save the libraries, at least some of them. They (she said) provided a repository for the more dangerous ideas humanity had invented, surely a useful thing to have on hand. For if man doesn't change, will he not have such ideas again? And would it not be useful to have a record of how they had been defeated already?92

Oh, her plan had been a grand one, her vision broad. There were to be repositories, carefully filed and categorized, with the various themes and ideas and problems all carefully organized to provide easy access, their solutions categorized too, to provide quick resolution. It had sounded good on paper, and to the know-nothing government officials. But when they discovered how hard it was to classify literature, even for experts, the plan had been revamped. 93

Librarys had gone from huge, brightly lit emporiums with access strictly prohibited, to miniature warehouses, as many books as spacially possible crammed into little dark hidden buildings, and left alone and ignored. And all this was according to Miss Prism's plan. 94

She had been placed in this library arbitrarily. She worried the government anyway; it was a good excuse to get rid of her. And she had settled down, to watch over her brood of mouldering beauty, slumbering wisdom, and hope that somehow, some day, there would be an awakening. 95

People came by, occasionally. Once in a great while, it really was government officials, looking up something or other, some reference that they were woefully inadequate to find on their own. But more frequently, and this was frequently as seen over forty years of working here, were the kids. They would explore, as the young are meant to do, and they would discover the library. And sometimes they would be intrigued and would stay a while. And sometimes they would fall in love, and they would come back.96

The mysteries of ink, Miss Prism was surprised to discover, were still an occasional draw to the young. Perhaps their world seemed shallow, with all communication done through images, sound, sense. Maybe the beauty of words was missing in their souls. They fulfilled this longing where they were not supposed to be; but always, always they went away.97

Jack, however, was the first person who had brought a friend. Perhaps this time would be different.98