"What do we ask?" Wendy says.

"Ask whatever challenges dead and thoughtless beliefs. Ask: When did we become human beings and stop being whatever it was we were before this? Ask: What was the specific change that made us human? Ask: Why do people not particularly care about their ancestors more than three generations back? Ask: Why are we unable to think of any real future beyond, say, a hundred years from now? Ask: How can we begin to think of the future as something enormous before us that also includes us? Ask: Having become human, what is it that we are now doing or creating that will transform us into whatever it is that we are slated to next become?

"Even if it means barking on street corners, that's what you have to do, each time baying louder than before. You must testify. There is no other choice.

"What is destiny? Is there a difference between personal destiny and collective destiny? 'I always knew I was going to be a movie star.' 'I always knew I was meant to murder.' Is Destiny artificial? Is it unique to Man? Where did Destiny come from?

"You're going to be forever homesick, walking through a cold railway station until the end, whispering strange ideas about existence into the ears of children. Your lives will be tinged with urgency, as though rescuing buried men and lassooing drowning horses. You'll be mistaken for crazies. You may well end up foaming at the mouth in a central Canadian drug clinic, Magic-Markering ideas onto your thighs which are bony from scouring the land on foot. Your eyes will always feel as if you've been staring at the sun, your bodies seemingly aching to cool them by staring at the moon. There aren't enough words for 'transform.' You'll invent more."

"We'll go crazy!" Hamilton shouts.

"No. You'll become clearer and clearer."

"No—we'll go totally effing crazy."

"Haven't you always known that, Hamilton? At the base of all of your cynicism across the years, haven't you always known that one day it was going to boil down into hard work? Haven't you?"Hamilton and the rest imagine their new lives.

"And you're going to care about what people think? As if they care! And you know the truth—or at least you'll always be headed in its direction. It doesn't matter how stupid or crazy or extreme you become. There is no other meaning. This is it."

Hamilton closes his eyes and specks of mica dust fall from the sky, making his face glint.

"In your old lives you had nothing to live for. Now you do. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Go clear the land for a new culture—bring your axes, scythes, and guns. I know you have the necessary skills—explosives, medicine, engineering, media knowledge, and the ability to camouflage yourselves. If you're not spending every waking moment of your life radically rethinking the nature of the world—if you're not plotting every moment boiling the carcass of the old order—then you're wasting your day."

The water flowing beneath us and over into the spillway has stopped, but nobody notices. One by one I come face-to-face with my friends.

"Pam, you have hard work ahead of you. Every moment of your life from now is going to be work, and no excuses. It's as though you've have to dig up a massive tree and untie the roots which have been tied into complex knots by dark forces beneath the soil. Could you do that? Are you capable?"

"Yes."

"Hamilton—no more pretending to be a child trapped inside an aging body. No avoiding the enormity and responsibility of being an adult. Could you do that? Are you capable?"

"Yeah."

"Wendy, no excuses: no drugs, no sleeping, no booze, no overworking, no repetition or insulation or efforts to make time disappear. You're in for the long haul. Could you do that? Are you capable?"

"I am. But what about the baby?"

"You may not be able to change the world on your own, but our kid will—as will Jane. You'll be their teachers and then they'll teach you."Linus—the world is not going to end in your lifetime once you return. That form of self-flattery is gone. But too much freedom won't swamp you anymore. Are you ready to change—to join—to become part of what's Next?"

"Yes."

"Megan—if necessary, you're going to need to reject and destroy the remains of history—kill the past—if it hinders truth. Most of the past can only hold back what needs to be done. An astounding weight of history hangs around your shoulders. But in so many ways, it'll be useless to you. Too many things are too new. Rules have to be made up as you go along. Are you ready, along with Jane, to change—to join—to become part of what's Next?"

"Yes."

"And Richard: Will you go undercover? Will you destroy information? Cut wires? Sever links? In an efficient, adult, and professional manner will you dismantle and smash everything that stops questioning? Will you cut your hair? Will you infiltrate systems? You had no trouble thinking of dinosaurs and Ice Ages as prehistoric. Will you have just as little trouble thinking of your new epoch as post-historic?"

"I will."

Nobody notices that I don't speak to Karen. Richard asks me, "Jared—"

"Yes, Richard?"

"What if we don't want to go back? What if we don't mind the way things are? What if we choose to stay here?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask. The answer is, if you want to stay here and continue the life you've been leading, you can. No strings attached. But I want you to think about that for a second." Richard and the others mull this over and the implications of this quickly becomes obvious. "No, I didn't think you'd like that option. You had another question, Richard. …"

"Yeah, Jared—what happens if we go back and we stop asking questions? What happens if we stop looking and asking?"

I look at Karen; everybody's eyes turn to Karen. "Karen—you remember now?" I ask. "Don't you, Karen?""I do."

"What?" Richard shouts. "What are you talking about?"

"I remember now. It's all coming back to me. I can't believe I didn't remember. Richard—Beb … I have to go back into my … coma."

"Oh no—"

"Yeah," she says, "I do. I have to go back," she says.

"What do you mean you're going back? You can't. Stay here. I won't let you."

"It's not your choice to make, Richard—it's mine. And unless I make it, none of you can go anywhere. That's what I saw, Richard. Back in 1979. This. Here. Me—I'm your Plan B."

36 THE END

"Jared, you demented psycho—what gives you any right to do this?" "Richard, buddy, bro—I wish I were psycho, but I'm not. And nei-ther's Karen. I'm not even doing anything, Richard, I mean, you're the ones who need to do the choosing."

Richard is flailing and it's not cool—it reminds me of when we were younger and he never got picked for teams. He says, "What happens if Karen and I—all of us—don't go along with your deal— what then? What if we all like it here and want to stay here? We could build a new society—the planet could be our ark. I've been thinking of this—we've all thought about it at some point during the year. Earth isn't heaven and it isn't hell but it's something."

Karen's breathing is stiff and pumplike, similar to latex lungs I once saw in a high school guidance film on smoking. "Richard, Beb, that's sweet. But it's too late. This was decided a long time ago." She looks toward me. "You can't stop it. It's a done deal. Sacrifices need to be made. This is mine."

Megan breaks the silence: "How do we go back?" she says.

"Megan, at least defend your mother," Richard says.

"Dad, you never listen to me. She's going, okay? She's leaving."

"Megan," I say, "Getting back is easy, a real no-brainer. All you guys have to do is each return to the place you were at the moment Karen woke up—that point in time and space where the world banged off of its old foundations. Just before dawn, November i, I997- Walk to the places where you were at that moment. All of you standing in your correct spots will be like notches on a key in a tumbler—you'll unlock the world—reopen its doors. Megan, I believe you and Jane, then eight cells big, were in the Emergency waiting room with Linus that morning. Wendy was with Pam and Hamilton in Intensive Care. Richard was down there," I say, pointing to the canyon just down around the bend from the dam's spillway.