I’m more convinced than ever that his brand of intelligent Luddism is the answer to so many of our problems: pollution, poverty, overpopulation. I have to confess to you right now that I took the pledge.
John looked up from her letter, frowning. She took "the pledge"? What the hell
did that mean? He didn't think she drank.
In case you’re wondering just what I’ve pledged, I feel a little aawkward about telling you. I know I should have discussed it with you, though that might be presumptuous of me. And maybe you’ll say I was swept away by the enthusiam of the crowd. But I did take it, and I mean to keep my word.
In case you haven’t heard of the pledge, it’s a promise to have no more than two children. If I divorce and remarry and my second husband hasn’t any children, then I’m allowed to have one with him. Though ideally I would have had my tubes tied after I had my second child.
The hard truth is, the only way we’re going to reduce our population is by making sacrifices like that. And reducing population is step one; everything follows from that.
Wincing, John lowered the letter and rubbed his brow with his free hand. Oh, Wendy, if you only knew, he thought sadly. Overpopulation was not likely to be a problem in a few years.
Anyway, I hope you won’t be angry with me for going ahead on my own. But I know you’re a sensible person and so I’m trusting you’ll understand.
On a completely different subject, we also saw some the sights while we were there and I got this for you at Lincoln Center. This is the most amazing sculpture; I’d love for you to see it for yourself. But the video is very good and has a “making of” section at the end that you’ll probably find interesting.
Hope to hear from you soon. Love and kisses…
John pulled the video out of the mailing box and looked at it. On the cover was a photo of a weird-looking modern sculpture. He wasn't impressed, but then he wasn't a big fan of modern art. The back of the box was filled with not very informative blurbs from other artists and bits culled from critical reviews.
But, hey, if Wendy was impressed it must be really something.
He was trying, and he knew that he was trying, to suppress thoughts of Judgment Day. If there was a Judgment Day. Well, if there was, it would make Wendy's idealistic pledge seem rather foolish.
And yet, that she had made it moved him; still more, that she'd written to him about it. He felt toward her a tenderness more profound and respectful than he had yet experienced. He wanted to protect her, to shelter her from all harm. At the same time he admired her faith in the future. He smiled and shook his head.
Then he took the tape and inserted it into the VCR and sat back to watch.
There was a little explanation at first on how Lincoln Center had decided to erect a statue, and had commissioned the late Vladimir Hill to create it. Then there was a segment of film, greatly speeded up, that showed the thing actually moving. Its name was Venus Dancing and John's jaw dropped as he watched it doing just that.
The glittering column seemed to swoop and bend, stretching high and then stooping, the holes in its surface growing and shrinking as it moved. The whole thing seemed alive and its motion was graceful and very beautiful. Although, despite the pleasure of watching the lovely thing, something niggled.
Then the dancing segment ended and the "making of section began. The sculptor, emaciated from his bout with cancer, described the process of creation.
He told the interviewer that if he must die young, he had at least created the most unique sculpture in the world before he left.
Then there were scenes from the unveiling, where an almost unrecognizably healthy Vladimir was shown with a beautiful young woman who was the creator of Hill's new sculpting material, a substance she called Intellimetal.
It took a moment as he watched the smiling, blushing brunette, nervously adjusting her glasses. But it was that movement that attracted his attention to her eyes. The shock of recognition took his breath away.
"MO-OM!" he shouted, not moving from where he sat on the bed but only bellowing louder, "MOM! DIETER! COME HERE! NOW!"
Down in the living room the two adults looked at each other, then scrambled for the stairs, pulling weapons out of hiding places.
"What?" Sarah said, bursting into his room.
John pointed at his TV, unable to say anything. He didn't even make his usual crack about mothers who burst into their sons' rooms carrying guns.
Dieter and Sarah moved to where they could see what he was pointing at. Sarah sat down hard on the floor, pressing both hands against her mouth. Frozen on the screen was a face she wasn't likely to forget. How? she thought in horror. She's dead! She's dead. She has to be dead! No one could have survived that explosion, even if they hadn't blown away half her head first. She couldn't have
escaped either; it was impossible.
And yet. This was Serena Burns. Jordan's former boss, the head of security for Cyberdyne. A new breed of Terminator—call it an Infiltrator—sent by Skynet.
"My God," she said. Then she took a deep breath and looked up at John.
"I'm not wrong!" he said, sounding shaky.
"I wish." she answered.
Dieter offered his hand and she took it. He pulled her to her feet easily. "So there was another one," he said grimly.
"Isn't there always?" John asked.
"So far," Sarah agreed. She brushed her hands over her hips. "Now we need to find out where she— it—is and what it's up to."
"I'll get in touch with Wendy." John said. "She might know something."
Wendy answered on tin; third ring.
"Bob's Brickyard, we lay anything." she said cheerfully. In the background there was raucous laughter.
"Wendy!" John said incredulously.
He was calling from his room, lying back on his bed propped up on some pillows; it was kind of late and he'd been afraid of waking her. Guess I had that
wrong, he thought.
"Oops!" she said. Then he heard her talking to whoever was with her. "Hey, guys? I need a little privacy here."
There was a chorus of protest at that; it sounded like Snog and the gang. He smiled, remembering them. It took a few minutes, but she finally managed to get them to leave.
"I'm sorry it took so long," she said breathlessly when she came back.
"Good thing this isn't a pay phone," he said, letting her hear his smile.
They were silent for a while. John couldn't seem to wipe the smile from his face.
Even though they didn't speak, he found intense joy just being in contact with her. Listening to her breath—in a sense being with her for the first time in months.
"I've missed you," she said at last.
"I've missed you, too."
They fell silent again until Wendy said, "Why did you call? Did you get it?"
"Your package? Yeah. Actually that's what I'm calling about. Uh… there's something on it that might relate to Skynet," he said quickly, wincing slightly.
This was a hell of a way to say thank you.
There was a pause, then she said, "Oh."
"Yeah. In the 'making of part of the video they show this woman who invented the material the statue is made from. We need to find out about her. Where she is, for example."
There was silence again and John frowned; this time the silence had a very different quality. "Wendy?"
"Yeah. I just… I thought you might be calling about the pledge," she said, sounding disappointed.