“We’re volunteers,” Zada explained. “We’re just here to help.”
“That’s good,” said Hortense. “Young people getting involved. Gives you a little faith in the next generation.”
Zada nodded her way through a wisp of guilt.
“We’re all good here,” said Sister Patience, nodding at the recorder.
Hortense cleared her throat and took a seat at the countertop. “Where should I start?”
“Why not start at the beginning? When did you come to New Ionia?” said Sister Justice.
“Sure. My family applied when I was born, and we were granted entry when I was four years old.”
So Hortense was a first-gen arrival. Daphne was entertaining the child with silly faces, but looked up at this, making eye contact with Zada. First the florist and now Hortense made two newcomers in as many days. New Ionia hardly ever allowed in new citizens. There simply wasn’t space.
Sister Patience gave a low whistle. “That’s a long wait.”
“Not as long as it could have been. My parents were both engineers. I think that might’ve moved our names up on the queue. But it still took ages.” Hortense clapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean, that isn’t to say we weren’t grateful. It was very generous of the city to let us in at all.”
“Could you tell us a little bit about your life prior to coming to New Ionia?” asked Sister Patience.
“It was a long time ago,” Hortense said, relaxing. “Like I said, I was pretty little. I don’t remember much.” She paused. “I mean, I’ve heard the stories, same as anyone. But I don’t really—I don’t remember. We moved around a lot, I know that much. There were animals roaming free, you could see them sometimes. Deer and wild hogs. Crows, too, and raccoons and skunks. Seagulls near the water, of course.”
“What water?” asked Zada, leaning forward. From school,she knew that nearly everything inland outside of the dome was either used up, or too foul to go near.
“Oh, the lakes,” said Hortense. “North of here. They were looking for fish, I guess.”
Zada frowned. Both sisters were giving her curious looks, and she realized belatedly that it was not her job to ask questions. But certainly outside New Ionia there was no water that could support life for miles and miles.
Hortense’s eyes flitted from Zada to the nuns. “If I said something wrong—”
“Nonsense,” said Sister Patience. “Don’t worry about it. Our young volunteer here is just new to the interviewing process. So, did you ever see any fish?”
“Um,” said Hortense. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
Of course, Hortense had only been four. Maybe she’d seen a picture of a lake somewhere and cobbled together a memory of something that had never occurred. That could happen sometimes, Zada reminded herself.
“Nobody’s here to scrutinize or report,” said Sister Justice soothingly. “This is for the archives, nobody else.”
“I miss them a little,” Hortense said. “Even the skunks, who were a total nuisance. That smell! Sort of like—well, there’s nothing to compare it to, here. But there’s something about seeing a creature in its own world.” She glanced back at Zada, then down at the recorder. “I’m still so thankful, of course. And maybe in a few years, we’ll get an allotment for a dog or a cat, wouldn’t that be nice, Connor? A puppy or a kitty?”
This last comment was directed at the child, who had finished his nutrient bar.
Instead of answering, Connor pulled at his mother’s sleeve.“Mama,” he said loudly, “when is Auntie Ellie coming back?”
Hortense’s posture stiffened. “Who?” she gritted out through a smile that didn’t come close to meeting her eyes.
“Auntie Ellie,” Connor enunciated.
“Honey, we talked about this,” Hortense’s smile widened into a grimace. “Your little flights of fancy—”
“She said she’d take me to the Raptor Detectives movie. Shepromised.”
“He didn’t get his nap today,” said Hortense quickly. “Listen, this might not actually be the best time.”
“I want Auntie Ellie,” said Connor.
“Not now,” hissed Hortense.
