The heirs, naturally, wanted everything to be theirs as soon as possible. No one is more rapacious, ruthless, and impatient than a loving family member.
The law, faced with a difficult decision, did what it often does. It looked backward for guidance, and invoked the ancient principle of usufruct. This permits an individual to enjoy the use of something without owning it, to the extent that such use does not destroy or reduce value. In other words, an heir could live in the house of a person sentenced to judicial sleep, and use that person’s possessions, but could sell neither house nor anything in it as long as the person remained alive.
This took care of all cases but one: that of an individual with no known heirs.
My parents were dead. I had been an only child. Upon my arrest, anyone who might otherwise have claimed kinship rushed to distance themselves from me. After my descent into judicial sleep, my property — including house and laboratory — had come under the stewardship of the government.
The question was, what had they done with it? Left it empty? Rented it out? Made it into a local landmark, like Clara Barton’s house a couple of miles away? The last idea was remarkably unlikely, but the subject was on my mind as we cruised steadily upriver.
Steadily. Seth, after the first dash away from possible pursuit, had cut back our speed. There were good reasons for this. First, someone who wishes to be inconspicuous does not roar along in the darkness at thirty knots. Second, when you can see almost nothing ahead of you, self-preservation recommends that you proceed slowly.
The boat did not have a cabin, but there was in the bow a partial deck. It was big enough for a man to crawl under, and he would be hidden there from anything but a close inspection. When dawn approached, Seth suggested that it might be the best place for me. The place was filthy, but I was too tired to argue. I lay down on a heap of old tarpaulins and dirty sacks, thought longingly and lovingly about my darlings, and was asleep within seconds.
I awoke to the sounds of silence. The engines no longer roared, the slap of water on the bow had ended. The air was hot and humid, with an oppressive heavy feeling to it. I crawled out from under the deck overhang feeling worse than when I went to sleep.
Seth was stretched out by the controls, his head pillowed on his arms. I wondered how long he had been lying there. I had been asleep for a long time. The sun was high in the sky, the snow on the shore was melting away before my eyes. The boat sat close in, its bow wedged among a mass of overhanging bushes. The river was narrower and faster-flowing. We had come a long way upstream.
I sat down, leaned over the side, and scooped up handfuls of water to splash on my face. Assuming that Seth had told the truth about the date, this was my first wash in nearly five years. I had not intended to drink the river water — it was brown and muddy — but as soon as it touched my lips the urge became irresistible. I drank from my cupped hands. The water tasted wonderful.
It seemed to me that I had been remarkably quiet, but Seth apparently slept like a cat, one eye always open. I heard him grunt behind me, and I turned. He was lying in the same position with his head on his hands, but now he was staring at me.
“Do you know where you are?” he said.
“No.”
“That’s bad news. Maybe I screwed up.” He moved to a sitting position and pointed along the river. “I don’t know this part of town very well, but I know how many bridges there are across the Potomac. I counted them as we came, and according to me that next one — see the abutments — should be upstream of where we want to be. So I thought right about here would be Glen Echo.”
“Maybe it is.” I stood up. Now I felt hungry, but my legs were far less shaky. “I’ve never seen things from the river side before. Once we’re ashore and looking back this way I may be able to place us.”
“Yeah. First things first, though.”
He moved to my side and drank as I had drunk. Then he stood and casually urinated into the water. I reminded myself that the world had changed with Supernova Alpha. Anyone who hoped to survive would have to change with it. I followed his example.
The food that he produced from his waterproof bag looked much the worse for wear, old bread and cheese squashed together in a solid block. I ate my half without hesitation, and wished for more.
He hoisted the bag on his shoulder. “Ready?”
We had to move the boat, pulling on the branches of overhanging bushes until we reached a place where the bow could be run all the way in to a clear piece of riverbank.
Seth went first, scrambling up a few steps and turning to see if I needed help. I was pleased to find that I didn’t. Once I had been unusually strong. With luck and exercise that strength would come back.
We headed away from the river through scrub and second-growth trees, and within fifty yards reached a wilderness of mud and gravel. It ran beside a broad empty trench with scattered puddles of water along the bottom. Seth looked at me expectantly.
“It’s the C O canal,” I said. “Or it was. Something has happened to it.”
“Supernova Alpha. The freak weather ripped all sorts of things to pieces. Do you know where you are?”
“This mess used to be the towpath. It runs all the way from Georgetown up to Cumberland and beyond, a couple of hundred miles. We could follow it either way, but I don’t know which one will take us toward my house.”
“Isn’t there a way to find out?” He was on my territory now, and he knew it. I sensed his heightened awareness. “I don’t like the smell of the weather. If there’s something unpleasant on the way, I’d like to be inside.”
“There are locks all the way along the canal,” I said. If by “inside” he meant inside my old house, I wanted him as relaxed as possible. “We ought to have no problem. Each canal lock is marked with a number. All we have to do is walk to the closest one, then we’ll know where we are and how far we have to go. The lock nearest to my house is number seven.”
“Right. Can you walk?”
The physical effects of judicial sleep on a resuscitated subject are small. It is ironic to reflect that my own efforts on clone stability, prior to my capture, had been in large part responsible for minimizing the deleterious effects of long-term syncope. Seldom does one derive such direct benefits from one’s professional work. I felt that I could indeed walk, a considerable distance if necessary. However, I saw value in concealing this from Seth. A weary Seth Parsigian was preferable to a fully alert one.
“I’m better than last night,” I replied. “But I tire very easily.”
“Right. Stay here, then. I shouldn’t be long.” He set off to the left, along the muddy apology for a tow-path.
I leaned against a mulberry tree already set with green fruit, and examined everything in sight. I had walked this towpath often, valuing its tranquil environment whenever my research called for protracted sessions of hard thought. It may seem strange that now I recognized nothing. Five years is surely a short time for an entity that has been in existence for more than two hundred years. However, we are talking of a surprisingly fragile physical structure. Twice before, to my knowledge, the canal towpath had been swept away and the canal partially destroyed by extreme weather. The Potomac River behind me was no more help. The pattern of islands was different from what I remembered.