"Your family benefits from the stake, yes. You get a say in what school your kids go to, everybody receives medical benefits, there's a good pension at the end. Stakeholding is a great social development. It involves, motivates and rewards."
"It destroys individuality."
"Taking a stake is the choice of the individual."
"A forced choice."
"Life choices usually are. Look at me, I took my stake in Z-B because it's the only one with a decent policy on interstellar flight. Other companies have different priorities, the choice is endless."
Joona shook her head wearily. "I will never sell myself out for a fancy house and full medical coverage."
She was rejecting everything her mother was a part of, he realized. "Then I'm happy for you. Your principles make you what you are. And that I like."
She gave him a brief grin, and sat up. "Come on, not much farther now."
After the last zigzag in the path, they were walking over a vast field of loose stone. The route ahead was easy enough to see through the thickening mist; a thousand footsteps had worn the thick covering of snow down to a compacted slushy brown trail. As they moved forward, the mist became patchy, with the wind propelling it along. Nothing else seemed to change. The path was the same ahead as it was behind. Occasionally, large boulders poked up through the snow. Other people on the path would appear as dark shadows in the brightly lit vapor before resolving into focus.
Abruptly, the ground fell away. They were standing at the top of a cliff. The base was invisible in the mist below.
"Almost there," Joona said cheerfully.
A few hundred meters brought them to the top of the Ben. Lawrence held back on his disappointment It was just a flat uninspiring patch of snow-covered ground close to another section of the cliff. The mist meant they couldn't see more than fifty meters. Over the centuries there had been several structures built around the concrete survey marker that was the absolute pinnacle. Broken walls of stone protruded from the snow, outlining these ambitions of the past Not one of them had a roof. The only intact building was a rescue center, a modern composite igloo that had a red cross on the side, and a small aerial protruding from the top. It was almost buried by snow. Lawrence spotted several small flat stones that had been laid carefully against it. When he bent to examine one he saw an inscription had been scratched on the surface. A couple of lines of poetry that he didn't recognize, then a name, and two dates, ninety-seven years apart.
"Not a bad place to be remembered in," he muttered.
They made their way over to the survey marker and climbed up it, just so they could say they had actually reached the top. The mist was starting to thin out when they made their way over to one of the collapsed walls where other walkers were huddled. Once they hunched down out of the wind they opened their lunchboxes. Jackie had packed them some thick beef sandwiches. Lawrence wasn't particularly hungry, the cold had taken his appetite away, but he munched away at one of them anyway.
Then the mist cleared completely and he stood up to look at the view. "Oh wow." You really could see half of Scotland. Mountains and glens and forests stretched away into a hazy horizon. Long tracts of water sparkled dazzlingly in the brilliant sunshine. He stared at it in a mixture of wonder and hopelessness. How could Amethi ever hope to achieve vistas such as this? All that effort...
Joona cozied up beside him. "When it's really clear you can see Ireland."
"Yeah? Have you? Or is that just a local myth for gullible tourists?"
She slapped at him playfully. "I have seen it. Once. A few years back. I don't come up every day, you know."
The sun was bright enough to make him squint. And the wind was bringing tears to his eyes.
"Stay here."
She said it so quietly he thought he was mistaken at first. Then he saw her expression. "Joona... you know I can't."
"Yes, you can. We're that new society you're looking for, Lawrence. This is where you can have your fresh start. Down there in the glens are free people building their own lives and doing what they want with them."
"No." He said it as gently as he could. "This is not for me. I've loved being here, especially with you, but I have to go back eventually. I'm too different."
"You're not," she insisted. "Your precious officer college rejected you, and you found us, me. It's inevitable. You must see that."
It was that earnestness of hers again. Sometimes it made her the strongest character he'd ever known. But there were occasions when it betrayed a worrying degree of vulnerability. She really didn't understand what went on around her, insisting on her own interpretations of events.
"Don't do this," he said. "We've had a great time together, and there's still another week to go."
"You have to stay, Lawrence. I love you."
"Stop it. We've only been together a few days."
"But don't you see how well you've fitted in here?"
"I'm a guest," he said in exasperation. "What the hell could I do here? Carve statues of Nessie for tourists?"
"You're a part of our lives. You lived with us. You made love to me. You even ate real food. All of this you welcomed."
"Joona, I stayed a few days. We're having a holiday romance, that's—" His subconscious sent out a disconcerted warning, almost like a physical jolt. "What do you mean I ate real food?"
"Real food." Her entreating smile never wavered. "Vegetables grown from the soil."
"Oh shit!" His hand came up to cup his mouth, and he stared aghast at the half-eaten sandwich. "Is this—is this?" He couldn't even bring himself to ask it. Not that. In his schooldays he'd always been revolted by the notion his ancestors had been forced to farm so they could eat—all the history class had.
"Aberdeen Angus beef," she said. "The best there is."
"Is it real?" he yelled.
"Well, yes," she said, oblivious to his horror. "Old Billy Stirling keeps a herd of them down past Onich. He slaughters a couple every month. There's quite a demand for it from the crofters. Gran always gets her meat from him."
Lawrence's legs gave way, pitching him forward. He vomited onto the snow, his whole stomach heaving violently. The spasms lasted for ages. Even when there was nothing left to bring up, his muscles were trying to squeeze out the last drops of acidic juices.
Finally, when he was through, he was on all fours with his limbs shaking unsteadily. He scooped up some snow and wiped it across his forehead, then tried to chew it to take the taste from his mouth.