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Meanwhile, in a universe slightly to one side:
Jake took off his respirator and safety goggles and descended to the control room. He checked
everything, and went online to the chatroom the remaining power and water employees had set
up.
jake33>water in the cooling towers 90 degrees F. added chlorine.
jake33>whos in the room
fishbone>im in atlanta.
jake33>OK there?
fishbone>2 guys down with the flu and not enough trainees.
jake33>i hear ya. hows the treatment plant holding?
fishbone>they say we might hasve to let the phone lines fail to keep both plants active.
Jake’s stomach knotted.
jake33> but the cel towrs are alreay off. evryones on dialup.
fishbone>waters the priority you know we need the treatment plants and greywater for the
cooling towers
jake33> i know but how will we keep intouch without chat?
He waited for a reply. In the corner he could see “fishbone is typing” but it was a while before
the words came up on the screen:
fishbone>theyre saying chat is just gossip most of the time anyway and that each congregation needs to learn to be independent.
Jake read this through twice before he typed back:
jake33>whats going on there?
(fishbone is typing)
(fishbone is typing)
fishbone>im sorry.
(fishbone has logged out)
Jake drove out to the church. When the Faithless had vanished, the Faithful of the area had
convened there, and had quickly voted to set up a communal shelter, although their individual
homes were all intact. No one had felt like returning to the silent neighbourhoods except to
collect supplies; even then it had taken them only a few weeks to move all non-perishable foods
to several nearby warehouses.
Jake had been so proud of Arlene; of how calm she and the other women had been. Within a
day they’d had a school and daycare set up, and had begun organizing the community’s food
supply.
Only in private had she confessed her feelings to him:
“I should have witnessed more -- poor Mr. Frost, and the other families on our street. They
might have been saved if I’d tried harder.” Jake had done his best to comfort her, but his
thoughts had gone out to his own co-workers at the power station. He’d wondered what more he
could have done to bring them to God in time.
Of course, that had been at the beginning, when they still thought they were the ones God had
spared.
Jake took off his respirator and safety goggles and descended to the control room. He checked
everything, and went online to the chatroom the remaining power and water employees had set
up.
jake33>water in the cooling towers 90 degrees F. added chlorine.
jake33>whos in the room
fishbone>im in atlanta.
jake33>OK there?
fishbone>2 guys down with the flu and not enough trainees.
jake33>i hear ya. hows the treatment plant holding?
fishbone>they say we might hasve to let the phone lines fail to keep both plants active.
Jake’s stomach knotted.
jake33> but the cel towrs are alreay off. evryones on dialup.
fishbone>waters the priority you know we need the treatment plants and greywater for the
cooling towers
jake33> i know but how will we keep intouch without chat?
He waited for a reply. In the corner he could see “fishbone is typing” but it was a while before
the words came up on the screen:
fishbone>theyre saying chat is just gossip most of the time anyway and that each congregation needs to learn to be independent.
Jake read this through twice before he typed back:
jake33>whats going on there?
(fishbone is typing)
(fishbone is typing)
fishbone>im sorry.
(fishbone has logged out)
Jake drove out to the church. When the Faithless had vanished, the Faithful of the area had
convened there, and had quickly voted to set up a communal shelter, although their individual
homes were all intact. No one had felt like returning to the silent neighbourhoods except to
collect supplies; even then it had taken them only a few weeks to move all non-perishable foods
to several nearby warehouses.
Jake had been so proud of Arlene; of how calm she and the other women had been. Within a
day they’d had a school and daycare set up, and had begun organizing the community’s food
supply.
Only in private had she confessed her feelings to him:
“I should have witnessed more -- poor Mr. Frost, and the other families on our street. They
might have been saved if I’d tried harder.” Jake had done his best to comfort her, but his
thoughts had gone out to his own co-workers at the power station. He’d wondered what more he
could have done to bring them to God in time.
Of course, that had been at the beginning, when they still thought they were the ones God had
spared.
