Public Key (xcvii)

WHAT: This chapter substantively edited since first posting.

WHEN: Two days after posting (27Mar11).

HOW: Shortened by about 66%.

WHY: Produced substantive logical inconsistencies with subsequent narrative.

WHERE: Portions of the text which were removed from this post will be used in a later chapter, as is appropriate. The next chapter to be posted will be entirely new, and (this way) shall not violate chronology.

WHO: ~~~~daK


We had each made ourselves a life, alone. Now we made one for ourselves together.

We woke with the dawn and lazed about in bed. We climbed down to the floor and made tea over a blue gas flame. We spread a quilt and lay upon it and kissed our way up and down each other and pushed ourselves as tight to each other as we could. It was cold, there was a bed, there were quilts, there was a girl. There might have been a world outside. I didn’t much care.

We were two people in love with a room of our own, we had all we needed and we had each other. There were sugars and flours, grains and roots, oils and vinegars, spices and tea. There was propane, a lamp and oil, there were no distractions, there was nothing more. It wasn’t a walk-up in Williamsburg or a split-level in Jamaica Plain. It didn’t need to be. It was home.

We felt safe. We could not get much safer. There was an airplane on the third day, and then again on the seventh, but then they went away. Either they thought I’d left or they just didn’t care anymore. For all I knew I was safe. For all I knew we could have stayed there, as we were, forever.

It was hard, in such an idyll, for me to get it together to work. Especially when the object of my work was to leave it all behind.

It was Hannah that made me work. I was worried that our little life would start to bore to her, that it would become stifling, that she would want to leave it. That she would want to leave me. At length I talked to her about it, and learned that she was worried too. We resolved, whatever happened, to work though it together. I didn’t know if we would. But I knew she would try, and so would I.

I was determined not to leave that hut until I had found a way home. She was determined not to leave me. I couldn’t let her down. I wouldn’t.

She wasn’t the only one I owed. Oakley had made sure that we would be well-prepared to face our seclusion. He was our patron. My life, my fight, would have to be the art by which I repaid him. I owed it to my friends and family, who doubtless were a little worried about me. I owed it to Luc, because he was as good as my brother, and in the same situation I’d expect the same from him. And I owed it to myself. Which I resolved not to forget.

And so I got to work.


~ by davekov on 26 March 2011.

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