Over the years since the war, the expression “the world” had become a Family euphemism for whatever existed beyond the boundaries of the Home. Hunting forays seldom penetrated further than twenty miles in any given direction. Not since the Big Blast, as many Family members preferred to refer to World War Three, had anyone departed the Home on an extended trip. In his diary, Carpenter advised the Family to stay put until such time as it was sufficiently strong in numbers to withstand any attack by a hostile force, or until it was certain that stability was restored to a disrupted, chaotic world.
“Are any of you aware of the importance of the date?” Plato asked.
“Today is June fourth.”
There was a moment’s hesitation on their part. Time, the consciousness of elapsed intervals frenetically followed by prewar society, was no longer relevant. Instead of dominating and dictating individual behavior, time was now ignored or savored in slow, spontaneous spurts. The Family’s generators Carpenter had wisely provided to make the transition from prewar to postwar culture easier had worn out decades ago. With the demise of electricity, the Family’s entire mode of living had altered, reverting to simpler ways and austere means. Calendars were still used, though, primarily by the Tillers for farming purposes.
“It is appropriate that we should send out our first expedition now,” Plato said. “We don’t enjoy being reminded of the war, but if you consult the records you’ll discover that in two days an historic anniversary occurs.
It will be exactly one hundred years since World War Three.”
Plato paused, noting the frowns and sad expressions on his loved ones, on those he mentally referred to as his “children.” Could any of them properly appreciate the profound significance of the loss the war had inflicted on humanity? Of the gains?
“The Founder planned and stocked well,” Plato continued. “He stockpiled huge quantities of provisions, of every conceivable type, most of which have since been used. Over the years we have adapted as supplies in any area were depleted. We grow and preserve our own sustenance, we construct our own clothing and build our own furniture. Although most of our original medical supplies have been utilized or outlived their effective potency, we have used certain reference books from the library and our own experience to achieve a consistent level of natural healing that is remarkably efficacious. In short, the Family has persevered. But, if we could locate new medicine, find other material we can use, and replenish our stockpiled reserve of ammunition for our firearms, I’m sure we would all rejoice. This brings me to the second reason I want the Alpha Triad to go out.”
Plato stared at Blade.
“I want the Alpha Triad to retrieve as many items as they can from a list I’ve compiled of scientific, medical, and other supplies and basic provisions and equipment the Family requires.”
“We gonna carry this stuff back in a knapsack?” Hickok interrupted.
Plato grinned. “No. The load would strain even your broad shoulders.
We’ll get to the method of transportation in a moment.”
Blade wondered what Plato could be referring to. The Family owned nine horses, but they were exclusively used in the fields for tilling the soil and other farm uses. Taking them beyond the limits of the Home would be exposing them to almost certain death.
“Before I do,” Plato resumed, “I want to stress the third and final reason for sending out the Alpha Triad. Pardon me.” He moved towards the west wall and a path was cleared for his passage.
The west wall was adorned with over a dozen maps, most frayed and worn from use and age. In the center of the wall was a map of the former state in which the Home was located, Minnesota. A bright red dot in the northwestern corner indicated the Home site.
Plato reached out and tapped the red dot. “The Home. In the one hundred years since the war, the Family has not extended its boundaries beyond the original limits. We are ignorant with respect to whatever is transpiring in the world around us. We own several radios, long since useless. Even when the generators were functional and we had a store of batteries, the atmospheric disturbance was too great to permit reception or broadcast on the shortwave bands. The crucial point to stress is that we have survived, and if we have, then there is a distinct possibility that other groups have too. Remember those scavengers? Where did they come from? We must determine if populated centers are existing in the world, and the Alpha Triad must learn if they are any threat to the Family.”
Plato stopped and searched the faces nearest him. “Any objections to my proposal?”
“I have one,” Jenny spoke up.
“Yes?” Plato glanced at Blade.
“The Family has survived, true,” Jenny began. “But we were not near any nuclear impact points, thank the Founder! We do know, from the early records made when the Geiger counters and the other equipment was working, that the radiation level in the atmosphere rose dramatically after the Big Blast, then tapered off to near normal within five years. But what about hot spots, strike sites? Are they still radioactive? Will the Alpha Triad expose themselves to some unknown form of nuclear or chemical horror and seal their doom? Can we take that chance?”
Plato cleared his throat. There was an evident sadness in his eyes when he answered her. “We can not guarantee that they will not encounter danger on this expedition, which is why it is up to them to determine if the trip is made at all. They are well aware of the dangers. But I want to show you something. Jenny, and the rest of you, that may allay your fears.”
Plato touched the red dot again.
“The Home. Located in northwestern Minnesota, on the outskirts of the former Lake Bronson State Park. Not a major metropolis within hundreds of miles. Scant chance to find supplies we require anywhere else but a major city. And there is one here.”
Plato lowered his hand to the southeastern section of Minnesota.
“Formerly known as Minneapolis and St. Paul, the Twin Cities.”
“That’s so far!” someone protested.
“How do we know the Twin Cities are still there?” another person asked.
Plato was studying the map. “To take your questions in sequence, the Twin Cities are, according to my calculations, three hundred and seventy-one miles from the Home, give or take a mile or two…”
Hickok laughed. “Shouldn’t take us more than a year to get there and back!”
“I’ll get to that in a moment,” Plato repeated. “First, someone wanted to know if the Twin Cities are still there. As far as we know, yes. Sporadic reception was possible until several weeks after the nuclear conflict. The journals clearly state that Minneapolis and St. Paul, lacking any strategic importance, were spared a direct hit. One entry notes that a commercial radio station, WCCO, was received, broadcasting governmental orders to evacuate. I believe the Twin Cities still stand, although in what condition is anyone’s guess.”
Plato faced them.
“I also believe the Alpha Triad has a reasonable probability of success in attaining their goal.” He slowly gazed at Blade, Hickok, and Geronimo in turn. “You will face untold hazards. Mutates. Clouds. Hostile humans.
Who knows what else? But the benefits to the Family outweigh your personal risks. You are caught in a vicious paradox. If you do make the journey, you might not survive. If you don’t make the journey, the Family will not survive for much longer. Oh, we might persist for several more generations. Eventually, though, the creeping senility will eradicate the Family at an excessively early age. Mark my words! That is inevitable unless we are willing to do something about it now. Take all the time you require to discuss it amongst yourselves.”