The People

The blow-when it came-was almost physical, so much so that I pressed my hands to my chest, my breath coming hard, trying too late to brace against the shock. David's sustaining hand was on my arm but I felt the tremor in it, too. Around me I felt my incredulity and disbelief shared by the other Old Ones of the Group.
The Oldest spread his hands as he was deluged by a flood of half-formed questions. "It has been Seen. Already our Home has been altered so far that the failova and flahmen can't come to blossom. As we accepted the fact that there were no failova and flahmen this year, so we must accept the fact that there will be no more Home for us."
In the silence that quivered after his words, I could feel the further stricken sag of heartbeats around me and suddenly my own heart slowed until I wondered if the Power was stilling it now-now-in the midst of this confused fear and bewilderment.
"Then we are all Called?" I couldn't recognize the choked voice that put the question. "How long before the Power summons us?"
"We are not Called," said the Oldest. "Only the Home is Called. We-go."
"Go!" The thought careened from one to another.
"Yes," said the Oldest. "Away from the Home. Out."
Life apart from the Home? I slumped. It was too much to be taken in all at once. Then I remembered. Simon! Oh, poor Simon! If he were Seeing clearly already-but of course he was. He was the one who had told the Oldest! No wonder he was terrified! Simon, I said to the Oldest subvocally. Yes, answered the Oldest. Do not communicate to the others. He scarcely can bear the burden now. To have it known would multiply it past his bearing. Keep his secret-completely.
I came back to the awkward whirlpool of thoughts around me.
"But," stammered someone, speaking what everyone was thinking, "can the People live away from the Home?
Wouldn't we die like uprooted plants?"
"We can live," said the Oldest. "This we know, as we know that the Home can no longer be our biding place."
"What's wrong? What's happening?" It was Neil-Timmy's father.
"We don't know." The Oldest was shamed. "We have forgotten too much since the Peace to be able to state the mechanics of what is happening, but one of us Sees us go and the Home destroyed, so soon that we have no time to go back to the reasons."
Since we were all joined in our conference mind which is partially subvocal, all our protests and arguments and cries were quickly emitted and resolved, leaving us awkwardly trying to plan something of which we had no knowledge of our own.
"If we are to go," I said, feeling a small spurt of excitement inside my shock, "we'll have to make again. Make a tool. No, that's not the word. We have tools still. Man does with tools. No, it's a-a machine we'll have to make. Machines do to man. We haven't been possessed by machines-"
"For generations," said David. "Not since-" He paused to let our family's stream of history pour through his mind.
"Since Eva-lee's thrice great-grandfather's time."
"Nevertheless," said the Oldest, "we must make ships." His tongue was hesitant on the long unused word. "I have been in communication with the other Oldest Ones around the Home. Our Group must make six of them."
"How can we?" asked Nell; "We have no plans. We don't know such things any more. We have forgotten almost all of it. But I do know that to break free from the Home would take a pushing something that all of us together couldn't supply."
"We will have the-the fuel," said the Oldest. "When the time comes. My Befores knew the fuel. We would not need it if only our motivers had developed their Gift fully, but as they did not"We must each of us search the Before stream of our lives and find the details that we require in this hour of need. By the Presence, the Name, and the
Power, let us remember." The evening sped away almost in silence as each mind opened and became receptive to the flow of racial memory that lay within. All of us partook in a general way of that stream that stemmed almost from the dawn of the Home. In particular, each family had some specialized area of the memory in greater degree than the others. From time to time came a sigh or a cry prefacing, "My Befores knew of the metals," or "Mine of the instruments"-the words were unfamiliar "The instruments of pressure and temperature."
"Mine" I discovered with a glow-and a sigh-"the final putting together of the shells of ships."
"Yes," nodded David, "and also, from my father's Befores, the settings of the-the-the settings that guide the ship."
"Navigation," said Neil's deep voice. "My Befores knew of the making of the navigation machine yours knew how to set."
"And all," I said, "all of this going back to nursery school would have been unnecessary if we hadn't rested so comfortably so long on the achievements of our Befores!" I felt the indignant withdrawal of some of those about me, but the acquiescence of most of them.
When the evening ended, each of us Old Ones carried not only the burden of the doom of the Home but a part of the past that, in the Quiet Place of each home, must, with the help of the Power, be probed and probed again, until
"Until-" The Oldest stood suddenly, clutching the table as though he just realized the enormity of what he was saying.
"Until we have the means of leaving the Home-before it becomes a band of dust between the stars-"
Simon and Lytha were waiting up with 'Chell when David and I returned. At the sight of our faces, Simon slipped into the bedroom and woke Davie and the two crept quietly back into the room. Simon's thought reached out ahead of him. Did he tell? And mine went out reassuringly. No. And he won't.
In spite of-or perhaps because of-the excitement that had been building up in me all evening, I felt suddenly drained and weak. I sat down, gropingly, in a chair and pressed nay hands to my face; "You tell them, David," I said, fighting an odd vertigo.
David shivered and swallowed hard. "There were no failova because the Home is being broken up. By next Gathering Day there will be no Home. It is being destroyed. We can't even say why. We have forgotten too much and there isn't time to seek out the information now, but long before next Gathering Day, we will be gone-out."
'Chell's breath caught audibly. "'No Home!" she said, her eyes widening and darkening. "No Home? Oh, David, don't joke. Don't try to scare-"
"It's true." My voice had steadied now. "It has been Seen. We must build ships and seek asylum among the stars." My heart gave a perverse jump of excitement. "The Home will no longer exist. We will be homeless exiles."
"But the People away from the Home!" 'Chell's face puckered, close to tears. "'How can we live anywhere else? We are a part of the Home as much as the Home is a part of us. We can't just amputate-"
"Father!" Lytha's voice was a little too loud. She said again, "Father, are all of us going together in the same ship?"
"No," said David. "Each Group by itself." Lytha relaxed visibly. "Our Group is to have six ships," he added.
Lytha's hands tightened. "Who is to go in which ship?"
"It hasn't been decided yet," said David, provoked. "How can you worry about a detail like that when the Home, the Home will soon be gone!"
"It's important," said Lytha, flushing. "Timmy and I-"
"Oh," said David. "I'm sorry, Lytha. I didn't know. The matter will have to be decided when the time comes."
It didn't take long for the resiliency of childhood to overcome the shock of the knowledge born on Gathering Day. Young laughter rang as brightly through
the hills and meadows as always. But David and 'Chell clung closer to one another, sharing the heavy burden of leave-taking, as did all the adults of the Home. At times I, too, felt wildly, hopefully, that this was all a bad dream to be awakened from. But other times I had the feeling that this was an awakening. This was the dawn after a long twilight-a long twilight of slanting sun and relaxing shadows. Other times I felt so detached from the whole situation that wonder welled up in me to see the sudden tears, the sudden clutching of familiar things, that had become a sort of pattern among us as realization came and went. And then, there were frightening times when I felt weakness flowing into me like a river-a river that washed all the Home away on a voiceless wave. I was almost becoming more engrossed in the puzzle of me than in the puzzle of the dying Home-and I didn't like it,