‘What constitutes a dire emergency?’ I ask, a little shocked by this response. ‘Sickness or injury?’
‘Neither qualifies.’
I set down my mug. ‘You don’t call for help if a disease breaks out? Do you at least have pharmaceuticals?’
‘We do not suffer illness here.’
Again, a prickle of unease rolls through me. ‘But you must,’ I persist. ‘Sure, there aren’t many of you, but if you were to contract even the standard flu, without intervention, it could get –’
‘We do not suffer illness,’ Irena cuts in, echoing Cadence. ‘Our Anguish keeps us healthy.’
This fucking Anguish.
‘Well, what about injury?’ I press, irrationally upset. There’s no way they never get sick here. ‘The landscape seems incredibly hazardous. The forests don’t look traversable. What if someone fell in the river? Got lost in the mountains? Broke a leg on uneven terrain?’
‘That would not happen,’ says Cadence.
My mouth hangs ajar for a moment. ‘But … if itdid.’
Cadence’s smile warms. ‘If it did, and it would not, then we would tend to the matter ourselves. The radio must only be used in the most dire circumstances.’
‘And a broken leg in this primitive setting isn’t considered …’
Irena’s hand, unseen beneath the table, tightens on my knee, cutting me off.
At the same time Cadence says, ‘No. It is not. Whatyou might consider an emergency differs greatly from what we consider an emergency. We are well fed, healthy, happy, and cared for. Our god sees to it.’
After dinner, Irena walks with me back to my small hut.
The wine was rich, the supper simple but filling. I’ve lost my desire to leave. The madness of the worship seems silly now, more like a bad trip than anything else. I keep jumping to the worst conclusions since … well, recently. And now that my belly is full of food and wine, the most appealing concept to me is to curl up in that straw-stuffed bed and sleep until the sun rises. Sleeping at night, rising with the sun, is a privilege not often afforded to transport pilots. We exist in the darkness and the false light, our tiny electric lives drifting through the vacuum.
I turn to Irena when we arrive at my hut, our white-clad bodies illuminated by the light of a lantern hung above the door. I’ve been wanting to ask her this question, and finally the itch becomes impossible not to scratch. ‘Without the use of your radio, how do you find new worshipers to join you here? The planet isn’t advertised on any colony bulletins. My galaxy map shows it as “Likely to be Uninhabited,” with “Hazardous Natural Conditions.”’
‘When we travel offworld,’ Irena replies, ‘like I justdid, we sisters occasionally come across a lost soul who needs a home. There are many lost women in the world, Midonia. Many who have been hurt, and who find much-needed respite here. Many who have been searching for something, someone likeHim, all their lives.’
‘Anguish, you mean.’
She repeats his name back to me in the correct way. I still can’t pronounce it. ‘But how do you stop unwanted people from coming here?’ I persist. Something about this place feels just out of alignment, like a loosening tooth.
Irena smiles, and there are things unspoken behind her eyes. ‘Anguish ensures that we are safe here.’
‘That’s not really an answer.’ I mean for my tone to be light, but the words come out too harsh.
‘He has his ways,’ Irena says, still smiling. ‘He brings us all peace, no matter where we come from. No matter who we were in the past. Here, we are remade anew. Every one of us, cared for equally. It is not hard to find those who would come here to worship him. And it is not hard for him to protect us from the outside world.’
‘I see.’ I’m reluctant to admit that the promise of life on a supposedly disease-free, injury-free planet does sound pretty appealing.
Irena moves to leave me here, alone in my hut.
‘Irena, wait.’
She turns.
‘If not sickness or injury, whatwoulddrive Cadence to use the radio?’
Irena watches me for a long time in silence. I’ve decided she won’t answer my question, and am about to turn and open the hut door, when she speaks. ‘Pray that you do not find out.’
6
