A Visitor to the Future - 127 - The Small Hill
By Tungsten
My good friend Nat is many things. As the reader, you will likely know them as a writer (which incidentally is something I am not, so I hope the reader will forgive any drop in quality). That ability to work the arts of pensmanship is only one of their many facets. Others include a uniquely curious mind, a sharp wit, a fun sense of humour, and the ability to care in droves. All in all that makes them a pleasure to spend time with and a very good friend indeed.
With this positive smattering of compliments, I hope the reader will understand that I mean no offence when I say that Nat's character weakness was keeping things close to the chest, even when sharing them and easing their burden may have been the best way forward. A core pillar of teaching in the Consortium is that support networks exist for a reason - we are all here to support each other! Nat sometimes missed the mark on that in those early days. Nor was Nat particularly skilled at hiding the fact they were struggling. Which, I suppose, is in fact a very good thing and helped all of us who considered Nat a friend to realize that additional support was needed. So Antonia had planned a secret conspiracy - we would all spend a little more time with Nat in the hopes that they'd open up about what was troubling them. Yes, Nat, I realize that you will be reading this, and all I can say to that is that I regret nothing and will gladly conspire with your other friends again if it is to your benefit.
It was a rainy afternoon in April when that day came, and at the time I had essentially just started living with Anode. Sharing a living space with Anode was an endeavor not without its difficulties, for I had not anticipated exactly how much mess she could make on a daily basis. I would ask the Consortium to clean up and then she would complain that what I had thought was refuse was some new Aldev project she was working on that should not have been disposed of. Never mind that the thing had not been touched for several days, or was dripping oil onto the carpets! However, all in all it was a very small bump in the road of our happy relationship and, looking back on it, I laugh!
Anode's latest subject of interest (among many) was the Aldev of internal combustion engines. As I'd found on on the Promise of Sol, it was a shared fascination for both her and Sarkona, so they shared notes and ideas often. Keen to show off her latest innovations, Anode invited Sarkona over and I took the opportunity to invite Nat too, who had not yet seen my accomodations or London since thawing from cryocontainment.
While the two motorheads talked, Nat and I took a walk in the rain away from the machine parts and noxious smells. I held a large umbrella over the two of us, which still had a certain novelty to it. Rain was something I had, and still have, mixed feelings about. On the one hand, the associated smells are sensational! There is nothing in the solar system quite like the coming of a rainstorm. On the other hand suddenly there is water everywhere! I was constantly (and needlessly) checking the status of my seals and compartments. The streets here were wide and peppered with large trees - having originally been made to accomodate motor vehicles. It gave one a great deal of choice in where to walk. Should you go in a straight-line or zig-zag? Stick to the pavements or walk in the middle of the road? Nothing but tradition dictated where one should walk, with only the odd cyclist to get in the way. London was fairly sparsely populated, with many of the old, cramped districts only maintained for the sake of heritage. Far more spacious accomodation was available outside the city limits - it was the novelty and connection to my childhood hero that had encouraged me to stay here.
We made small talk as I asked about the other members of the Resiliency team, but today of all days, I could tell there was something on Nat's mind, just on the tip of the tongue waiting to be spoken. Nat had a habit of withdrawing slightly into their clothing when bothered by something, shoulders hunched as if in a torrential downpour, as opposed to dry under an umbrella. I took a second to reassess my friend's appearance - their shaved hair had grown out naturally over the time I'd known them (even though I'd offered to do the bio-dev to grow it to any length they wanted) - and they were looking physically fit, too. Long walks in nature had very much agreed with them. It was hard to believe the person I'd worked on in cryocontainment and the person in front of me were one and the same.
I decided to risk asking - it seemed like a natural point in our conversation to ask.
"Is there anything on your mind?" said I.
"Not really," my friend replied. From the tone of their voice I strongly suspected that wasn't the case, but thought it best not to pry further. When a person is struggling to raise something troubling them, trying to press the issue often has the opposite effect.
We went by Lloyds, which I hadn't yet visited, and read the tourist signs there about the first multisphere conflicts. There was also a tour available of the subterranean, burned-out debt-server rooms - but we were there too early for that. That meant there was time to relax. I chose a small automated cafe which likely hadn't seen visitors for some time. It was very old-fashioned in design, and an actual log fireplace stoked itself as we entered, to my delight. I ordered nettle tea for Nat and a bowl of Tidelike soup for me - the oceanic scent of which paired with the rain nicely. In a more comfortable environment and out of the rain, Nat soon opened up a little. They joked about how much soup I seemed to waste by not eating it, to which I replied that soup enjoyed is never wasted.
It was a few minutes later that the conversation took an interesting turn.
"Tungsten, how do people in the Consortium tend to honor the dead?" Nat asked.
"I can't say that I saw that line of conversation coming," I replied, "But it depends very much on the individual and culture. I've only been to two funerals in my time, both very well-done occasions. Why do you ask?"
"It's something I've been looking into. It is different from my time, though, isn't it? In the Consortium, people decide when they want to die. I was even reading that some people even attend their own funerals?"
I searched through my memories, recalling my experiences in detail and what I'd read of the early 2000s, "Yes. Not at all like in your own time. For example I attended the funeral of Professor Waning, one of my favorite teachers from my time studying. I got to tell him that I would miss him greatly. It was nice to be able to tell him that, as simple as it sounds. But it didn't make it much easier, not really. It was ten years ago, and I was a little less wise. I remember thinking that he could stop all of it if he just decided to live."
"Do you know why he decided to die?" Nat asked, pulling out their old-fashioned tablet from their bag.
"His words were well-chosen - he'd achieved everything that he wanted to and then some, and didn't relish the thought of an eternity spent living in his own head. He had the typical evalutations done too - he was completely well when he made that decision. It was his right to make that choice for himself - the final conclusion of a life well-lived. I do respect his decision, even if I don't understand it." The emotions I'd felt at the time were just as strong today, to think back on it.
Nat made a few notes on the tablet as they asked a further question, "You said you've only attended two funerals - you're in your late thirties, right? Are they really that rare?"
"In my own experience, yes," said I, "And also statistically. The population level of the Consortium is more or less stable, even though the birth rate has declined. The average age grows by the year."
Nat made a few more notes as I took in the aroma of their tea from across the table. It was a particularly good blend. I'd have to look up the composition later.
I decided to speak plainly. "Nat, given that you initially asked about honoring the dead, I am hoping that this is more of a cultural query, as opposed to a personal one?"
Nat's face lit up in alarm at that, "Oh! No, I don't want to give you the wrong idea. Sorry. No, I'm not asking for myself. I'm asking for another reason. Uhh, it's kind of a long story."
I leaned back in my chair and gestured for Nat to continue. I was in no hurry, and besides, finding out what had been troubling my friend was of greater priority than anything else I had to do today.
"Well, it started with this," said Nat, pulling a familiar headset from their bag. I recognized it as the one which Sarkona had given them during our visit to IJmuiden, "It's the one that Sarkona gave me in IJmuiden."
"I remember," said I, my friend still not fully familiar with how accurate CI memories are. I couldn't forget anything easily. "Maps from 2046, rendered into a virtual-reality environment."
"Right. Well, I started taking some trips back to the Netherlands over the last few weeks - I've been trying to find out what happened to the places I knew, while doing some hiking around the area. It was a little weird at first, but when I realized just how many wildlife preserves and parks have replaced shopping centres, it made it all seem better, somehow."
"It still can't have been easy," said I, "Also, I do feel the need to point out that you could do that from the comfort of your own home. The headset's offset can be changed, you know."
"I know," said Nat, "Being there myself, hiking around it all - it makes it all seem a bit more real, though. Like I'm filling in a gap which I'm not even fully aware of."
I finally realized what Nat was trying to tell me, and why the initial query had been about honoring the dead. "You found something, didn't you?"
Nat fiddled with some settings on their tablet and passed the headset across the table. I gently put it on, though I had to hold it in place otherwise it would slide down my face. It wasn't really configured for my optics, but I'd make do.
I was in a suburban street, looking towards a property. For the twenty-first century it looked to be a fairly prosperous area, with large gardens and a low surrounding density. Two similar-looking women, one in their biological sixties and another a couple of decades younger, were sat on a bench, mid-conversation, while a teenager nearby threw a disk-shaped object for a small dog. It was a perfect freeze-frame of life, captured from the roadside.
"I wasn't even looking for them," said Nat, voice and tone strangled in a choked-up way, "But I found them. What are the odds? It's unreal. For me, it was a walk through a random field. For them, it was home."
I lifted the headset for a second. Nat had their elbows on the table, arms folded, head angled down - not meeting my gaze.
"I recognized them immediately," continued Nat, "2046 - that's twenty plus years after I left them. But there they are, moved into a nice area - the sort of home Mum always dreamed of. Probably because of the money from the cryocontainment trial. She even got another dog. I knew that she would eventually."
I put the headset back on, taking another look at the younger woman. The family resemblance was uncanny - Nat's sister, for definite, even if they looked twenty years older. I panned across to the teenaged girl, playing with the dog. "Mother, dog. Sister visting, with your niece, I presume?" I said, lifting the headset again, "Nat, this is wonderful news - did you ask the Consortium about them?"
The expression on Nat's face was as they looked up was heartbreaking. It was a look of resignation, face grim-set. "There's nothing, sadly. I tried everything. Sarkona said it before, not many detailed records from my time survived. This is all that's left, 3D maps from a random data archive. I think it's going to bother me, not knowing what my niece's name was or what she was like."
"Nat," said I, "A single snippet of their life, captured by a passing mapping vehicle and impossibly preserved for nearly a thousand years, and it finally made its way to you? And on top of that, they were caught all together, and smiling, happy? My friend, there aren't many people who believe in fate these days, but with odds like those... this is a remarkable find."
"Yeah," Nat said, "I don't want to seem ungrateful, but... I just wish there'd been a little more."
I reached out across the table and patted Nat's elbow. We sat there for a time, until Nat sat up straight again and took a sip of their tea, features set with resolve. The fact that the tea was still too hot to drink did nothing to dampen Nat's spirits.
"That's why I asked, earlier," Nat said, "I wanted to do something, so that there is something more. A memorial. Something physical. At least now I know where to put it. I was just looking for ideas."
I held out a hand to take Nat's tablet from where it lay on the table, typing in a search query, "One of the most common remembrance ceremonies to pay respect is the Hour of Silence. People from all over the system spend some time thinking about loved ones then. But it isn't until May. And it's more of a personal thing than a physical one. Here, look at this."
I'd brought up a projection of Professor Waning's memorial. It was a satellite, launched from Eru Ilúvatar on the day of his death. I explained that it was a relay beacon, used to project the Consortium's signal further out into the solar system. Seeing that it was still operational stirred me - the Professor was still helping people a decade after their death.
"It was particularly fitting for the Professor," said I, "They spent almost two hundred years studying the stars. That's how these things tend to go. If you were thinking of doing something similar, it may be an idea to choose something that your family liked? Something in common? That is where I'd start."
"Roses," Nat said without thinking, "They both liked roses."
I spent the rest of that day talking through suggestions and ideas with my friend. We ultimately went with a variation on Nat's first and simplest idea. Antonia was quite happy to do the bio-dev required, and we found a stonemason working not too far from where Nat had grown up who was happy to take on the work.
We went out there a week later - just the two of us, spending the day putting the memorial together. Nat hadn't wanted to use the Consortium at all, and the exercise of digging earth soil posed its own challenges. The combination of Earth gravity and the density of the damp ground I was unfamiliar with, the martian ground of my home planet an entirely different beast. Despite being an unaugmented human, Nat did the majority of the work, a fact clearly shown by the sweat staining their clothes when they were done.
When the digging was done and the stonework put into place, Nat stumbled backwards and finally sat on the ground. There'd been a fervor to their work and with it done their face looked tired, but emotionally blank. Then with a sigh and more determination, they made sure that the Consortium was listening and began to speak. It was an account of everything and nothing. Details of what their Mum did for a living and what their sister had studied at school. Tales of family holidays and random outings. Trying to teach the family dog to jump through a hoop and failing terribly. Breaking a roller skate at the park and getting a piggy-back home. Sometimes the words were choked and pained, but Nat didn't stop. Sometimes it was like discussing something that happened yesterday, and as they told some of the funnier stories, they smiled and I couldn't help laughing along. To call the recollection bittersweet would be an understatement. As the final details came out a sense of catharsis seemed to come over Nat, and with a few instructions to the Consortium, I gave my friend a hug and walked us over to a dronecraft. The sun had started to set at some point, but I hadn't noticed.
So Nat, when you told me that you were having issues putting the experience into words: I am no writer, but I couldn't let that stand. I hope this account will fill the gap in your writings.
South-east of old Amsterdam, you will find a small hill where a nice suburban house once stood, its foundations long since lost to time. The street that it was connected to has since been recycled, and the entire area designated a nature reserve for its particular popularity with birds. On that hill you will find a large rosebed of bright-green roses which bloom for most of the year, and in its center a small, stone tablet. The tablet has an inscription, English on one side, Human on the other, for all those that would care to read it.
In memorium
For my mother, my sister, my niece,
Family gone, but not forgotten,
You join those lost to the years,
Or to strife no longer known.
I wish we could talk of what I've seen and done,
So you'd see that I'm well, and in good company.
Most of all, I'd tell you that I miss you.
If you ask the Consortium about the memorial, it will tell you as much as it can about one family's life in the 21st century. An account of everything and nothing, about a single family, who were separated by illness, ice, and a thousand years of time.
The Consortium has instructions to ensure that the memorial will stand for generations to come.
Your friend,
Tungsten