Dawn nodded. “Yes, sir. But you should know that Transport is going to be using him to gather information. And immersion like this can be tricky to undo. Every day that he remains oblivious to what’s going on inside his head, it will become increasingly difficult to pull him all the way out.”
Amos waved his hand again and a white screen appeared. He glanced over at Dawn. “Work with him at night. Underneath his consciousness. Erase your tracks when you’re done. But not every night. Randomly, and never more than a few times a week. Don’t be predictable.”
On the screen, the recording of Jed and Dawn talking near the water pump at the old farm appeared. Amos and Dawn both watched as Dawn almost kissed Jed before he pulled away at the last moment.
Dawn blushed and then nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll work with him as you direct.”
“Have you convinced him you love him?” Amos said. He flicked his wrist and the screen disappeared.
“I think so, sir.”
“Does he love you?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Does he?”
“Maybe.”
Amos raised his hand and began to turn his wrist very slightly. The image of Dawn began to fade.
“You’re going to break his heart, Mrs. Beachy. You know that, right?”
Amos emphasized the word Mrs., and Dawn flinched. “I hope not, sir.” She took a step back, taking her leave, but just before she blinked out, she looked Amos Troyer in the face. “And Ben is dead… sir.”
Amos nodded, but Dawn was already gone.
(19
ARRIVAL
The airbus came in low, descending until it landed smoothly up against the platform dock. The bus was about two-thirds full, and Jed waited until it was almost empty before he followed the crowd out onto the platform. There had been only a handful of Amish on board, and they filed into line under a sign that read “Amish Residents.” The English flowed down a roped trail into a second line that terminated under a sign reading “Tourist Entry.” No one waited in line at a third counter, where the sign read “Amish Immigrants—Please Check In.”
Jed walked up to the Immigrants desk, and the woman behind the counter, who looked to be a Mennonite, was placing papers into a manila folder as he approached.
The woman smiled. “Welcome to York Amish Zone. For official purposes,”—the way she said this made it sound like “porpoises”—“I am speaking da English. Are y’uns having the papers?”
Jed remembered that when they’d removed his bio-identification band, he’d been handed an envelope with papers in it. He put his hand into his vest and found the envelope, then handed it to the heavyset Mennonite lady and smiled.
In the distance there was a rumbling sound, almost like thunder, and Jed turned his head, trying to identify the sound.
“Chust da Englischers, fighting,” the woman said. “Always da fighting. It wonders me they all han’t died.”
“Does the fighting ever come here, ma’am?” Jed asked.
The woman smiled at Jed as if he’d said something cute or amusing. “No. Never. The fightings never comes here, because we are growing da foods for many of the Englischers!” She stamped some of his papers, then pulled out a few notes and handed them to Jed. “Here are da moneys, young man.”
Jed saw that the customs official back at the Transport station must have exchanged his unis for Amish Barter Notes when his ID band was removed, because the small slips of paper she handed him were Amish notes.
“Do y’uns read, boy?” the woman asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Wunnerful gut.” She handed him another printed sheet. “Here listing ist da ordnung. Normally ordnung never ist written, but during the immigration periods, rule ist setting aside. Read when y’uns can.”
“I will, ma’am.” Jed suddenly had one of those strange feelings of déjà vu. It wasn’t really déjà vu, because it wasn’t the feeling that he’d done all of this before, but the Mennonite woman’s unique accent and dialect affected him strangely, as if he’d heard something similar to it recently. Similar, but not the same. Maybe a very rough and wild version of it.
Eagles.
Why did he think of the word Eagles just then? He shook his head and tried to push down the strange feeling. He’d been on a long journey. Perhaps he was just tired.
“Wunnerful gut. Okay,” the woman said, “now, y’uns following line on da floor until are arriving at da airbus that take y’uns to da Greeting Center. Not costing moneys, young man. Y’uns stay at der Greeting Center until other housings are arranged, or y’uns are receiving allotment of da farming lands. Mr. Zook will take wunnerful gut care of thee.”
“Okay, thanks,” Jed said. And as he said it, he could hear another woman’s voice—inside his head!—say, “This is real, Jed, but don’t forget what’s happening out there.” He turned his head, but there was no one near him who could have spoken the words.
The airbus floated over towering walls of indeterminate origin that circled the entirety of the York Amish Zone. Jed estimated that the walls must have been hundreds of feet high and at least as wide as a cornfield—stretching into the distance like the Great Wall of China he’d seen in a picture book, only far taller and wider. Taller than many of the great buildings he’d seen in photographic art books, and the outer portion that faced the world was a sheer wall that would only be scaled with much difficulty. Jed wondered who had built the walls and why. With airbuses and floating airships, the walls seemed kind of pointless and silly.
At the Immigrant Greeting Center, Jed was taken in by an Amish family who treated him like a king returning from a far country. He took a hot bath, and while he bathed his clothes were washed for him. He was given a loaner set of clothes while his dried on the line, and then he was measured for several more sets of Amish clothing. Jed was told that the women of the community would have his new clothes—made according to the local ordnung—ready for him in a week. In the meantime he’d have his own clothes and the ones he’d borrowed.
In this community, according to the ordnung, the button pattern was a little different on the front of the broadfall pants (there were two extra buttons that he felt were unnecessary, but those were the rules) and the hats had a slightly smaller brim and a narrower band. The work shirts—pullovers—could have pockets, and had three buttons instead of two. Other than that, Jed thought as he looked over the printed ordnung, not much was different than the ordnung he’d lived under his whole life. Buggies were the same color and styles, and the women’s dress was almost identical to what he was used to seeing at home. It looked to Jed like as soon as he had his new clothes, he should fit right in here, and he was happy about that.
The waiting list for land distribution wasn’t long, and he was thankful to learn that he’d be receiving his allotment of two hundred acres in a few weeks’ time. Until then he was slated to stay with his old friend Matthias, another young, single farmer who was just getting started on his own farm. Matthias was supposed to come pick him up sometime the next day, and Jed was looking forward to seeing a friendly face from Old Pennsylvania.
Mr. Zook, the patriarch of the family that ran the Center, a strong man in his early thirties, talked to him and kept shaking his hand and patting him on the back like he was really excited to have him there in the community. Jed noticed that behind his back, or when people thought he wasn’t looking, the local Amish stared at him and sometimes whispered.