Shelly had heard all sort of stories. CATS was the last holdover from Carpathia's administration; they existed to preserve the telecommunication network and the right to access it, but they took their mandate extremely broadly. Earlier in the year, she'd heard of a kidnapping victim who was locked in the basement of a highrise in what used to be Toronto. Over the weeks, the captive had dug through a derivation box and cut power to the nearest network node; CATS identified the problem, showed up in force, and blew the kidnappers away with heavy weapons - then arrested the victim and put her in a room with a phone until she arranged for a local to repair the power conduits. Another incident had a regional assembly in ANVIL territory use a closed-door session to reinstate some of the old Chinese 'net filters; CATS responded by demolishing the assembly building overnight on the eve of the vote, so that it would have to happen literally in the open. And now, a small unassuming bald man of unidentifiable age - he could've been a very harried thirty, or a well preserved fifty - was waiting for her to let him into the school. Shelly could've pinned this guy in thirty seconds; Conrad could have with one hand. He practically radiated meekness. She figured she'd better be extra polite.
"Are you here for the inspection?"
"Oh, yes, yes, absolutely. Right now we have this compound tagged as running both a school and a network node. That's a potential conflict of interest, but we had no complaints, so I'm here to look around. Does your school have a library?"
"Yes, it's right this way."
From the air - they knew, because Rayford had done a few flybys - the COT campus still looked like it had been a strip mall originally; now, new lightweight construction had surrounded what was the parking lot, and the parking lot itself had been stripped of concrete and turned into an enclosed playground. This sort of compound-style reclamation was common enough in the Chicago area that Rayford had taken pictures of somewhere else the first time; in the post-Appearing world, neighbors generally knew each other and wanted to live together - single family homes would've been going the way of the dodo if it wasn't for the simple fact that there had been enough dodo sightings in Madagascar that the saying was starting to be obsolete. The library was relatively small, since most texts existed as files on a server, and was accessible to the pubilc by an external door during business hours. COT had developed an excellent relationship with its broader neighborhood; pretty much the whole area was Christian, so any problem that had arisen about water allocation or shared defense had ben solved by a prayer meeting at the nearby park or, lately, even within COT's enclosed garden.
"I'm Shelly. The guy supervising the kids painting the sign is Conrad, my husband. That's Janie on the way to homeroom... Hey kids! Say hello to Mr. Pessimal!"
The little man shrank back after being greeted by an enthusiastic group of kids on the way to the motor pool. "We've set things up with some of our neighbors, those guys are going to Washington Woodworks for their shop class as soon as Lionel bikes here to pick them up."
"I understand. In many communities, Christians isolate. Glad to see you don't."
"Oh, pretty much the whole area is believers. Are you, Mr. Pessimal?"
"It's extremely hard to not believe in Who you have seen. I find that this does not stop some people. However, for the purpose of this exercise, assume that I disagree with you on every item of philosophy, theology, or politics. I will now attempt to use your library's network terminals as if I was an average member of the public. Please assist me like you would anyone else."
Shelly tilted her head - the CATS man had just basically given her the answer key to pass this test. Did that mean that CATS had already sent an undercover inspector? She didn't really remember any new faces around lately...
Mr. Pessimal let Shelly lead him into the library, upon which he sat down on the rattiest-looking terminal and started attempting to load various books from the server. He looked around while doing so. "You have a number of paper books. I like that."
"We have a number of small kids, it's easier to scrape a stain off a book or reprint a page than it is to repair a terminal. We also have some old stuff, heirloom Bibles and stuff, but that's in a safe. I think the oldest book we have is from the mid 1800s."
Pessimal paid little attention to morning prayer conducted over the PA, and was polite enough to stop asking Shelly about library byrules as she prayed along and stood for the pledge. "I pledge allegiance to the Christian Flag and to the Savior for whose Kingdom it stands. One Savior, crucified, risen, and come again with life and liberty to all who believe."
"And gruesome death to all who don't" he commented, coldly.
"That's... not how it went."
"We know. Again, for this exercise, assume that I disagree with you on everything. The point is that we can dislike each other and be civil. As long as you do not censor information, it's your house and you can preach whatever you like in it. Moving on, I am having difficulties accessing" the CATS man mentioned an archive of literary erotica that was hosted somewhere in the East Coast.
"Oh, that's filtered. We have kids here, Mr. Pessimal. We will have teenagers soon... later this year in fact. I'm sure you understand."
"I understand, which is why instead of failing this facility outright, I'm asking you as the public librarian to turn off the filter for me, an adult."
Shelly had a moment of panic. Chang and Naomi did all the techie work that the school needed; she had no idea how to do that. She restarted the terminal, and got to a menu list that said something about "administrator mode", which they used to do software repairs. Surely that would give access to everything. A. E. Pessimal took notes in his steno pad. The terminal came back up, and the CATS man tried again to access the erotica archive, successfully this time. He typed some more commands after that.
"We should probably put up a privacy curtain for the public terminals" Shelly commented "the stalls are already there, we can make something like a shower curtain but shorter. That way if people absolutely HAVE to look at smut they won't expose anyone else to it."
Pessimal kept typing, and hit the enter key. "I have now disabled your net filtering, on all terminals in the school, as soon as they are rebooted. You have left a random visitor with full administrator access. This is a very bad idea. If I had chosen to, I could have erased your entire archives, ordered supplies to be delivered here and you billed for it... all manner of nefarious things. But, I could not have changed your pupils' grades, I notice."
Shelly sighed. "No, we use traditional files for that sort of thing. Easier on everybody. And you've just made the point that it's safer, I think."
"I could fail this institution, since you obviously aren't set up for unfiltered public access. However, I will give COT a passing grade as soon as you ensure that public terminals can access the network without censorship. Privacy curtains are a good idea. Since this neighborhood has no public library, you as the largest non-Academy school in it have to fulfill that role unless one is built, as per PATRIOT law. Since you also host a network node, the matter concerns CATS, so I took the job from the locals in the interest of reducing overhead and disruption. Now, I have to email in my report at the end of the day, so I figure your workshop and your IT department have a few hours to solve the issues i pointed out. I would like to pass you, so, please do so with due haste."
Pessimal's smile was waxen, but Shelly returned it. "Thank you. You're a good man, Mr..."
"A. E. Pessimal."
Shelly got to the wall phone, and made a call to Lionel - building the wooden framework and carving the rings for curtains would be an interesting activity for the kids - and Naomi. She came down almost immediately, and started talking to Pessimal in jargon which Shelly could barely recognize. She figured that the best thing to do would be to let them geek out; the tone sounded friendly.
Whatever Naomi did seemed to satisfy Mr. Pessimal; the network was restarted a few times, and by the time those two were done, an option to use the terminals in 'public library mode' was in place. All that was needed now were the privacy curtains... or was it?
"Are you going to have to sit in on classes?"
"No, I already know that this is a Christian school. So do the parents. There are alternatives in reasonable distance, so you are under no restrictions, as far as I know. The job of CATS is simply to ensure that the network remains functional and uncensored. Out of curiosity, do you teach about Armageddon?"
"Yes, in history and in Bible class. Not today, though."
"Pity. I was there. The kids might have found interest in my story. I had a unique perspective."
"That would be lovely Mr. Pessimal, but what do you mean about perspective? I wasn't, but most believers on Earth were there watching from-"
"No. I was crew on Truck Four." That would've explained his appearance, especially the lack of hair.
"Oh. But... No offence, but how did you survive, then? And if you're not a Christian, why are you helping us?"
"I'm helping you because the network node in this location has a good stability record. The minds of humanity are safest if a thousand flowers bloom, and this includes Christian schools. As to how I survived, like I said, the kids might have found interest in my story."
"Now I kinda do want your story." Naomi interjected. "But I don't know if it would be kid-appropriate."
"Ack that. Maybe you can invite me next time you teach that unit; you have my email."
Lionel and two of the bigger kids started bringing in the new privacy curtains, still smelling of fresh-cut pine. Pessimal gave them a glance, judged them sufficient, then stood and held out a hand to shake.
"I will file a passing grade on my report. I cannot promise you that it will get you accredited, but I suspect that it will."
A brief round of handshakes and the man from CATS was gone, hours ahead of schedule; Lionel showed the kids how to install one of the curtains, and they did the other two themselves. Naomi and Shelly looked at each other and shrugged.
"You should write to Vicki and Judd, they were so worried about this..."
Shelly nodded. It was a big load off everybody's shoulders: as much as governments had a lot less power than they used to, being out of legal limbo was a relief. Yet, somehow she didn't feel particularly triumphant about how the day had gone. Before firing off the email with the good news, she went to wash her hands. Twice.
"Are we making good time, Mr. Lawrence?"
"About an hour ahead of schedule, cap'n."
Most airships going to the Californian coast from Chicago preferred to go south, then west, so as to be lighter when the time came to cross the Rockies. Rayford had done a bit of statistics, however, and posited that it would be safer to do the crossing early on, so as to not risk running out of fuel above jagged or gnarly terrain. Icarus' CEO had okayed the route with "You're the Captain, Mr. Steele", which Rayford felt he had every right to take as a compliment.
The Perdix was now approaching Two Ocean Pass. The place was only accessible on foot or horseback; even helicopters and airships were prevented from landing, lest their propwash disturb the delicate natural phenomenon. A large ship such as his could afford to simply hold point a few hundred meters above and lower a line; the technique had been pioneered by the Germans during WW1, to conn their zeppelins from an observation seat while hiding the large ships inside the clouds, and had simply been adopted anew.
In this case, Judd and Vicki put on safety harnesses and let one of the Perdix' winches lower them; under them, they wore scuba-style swimsuits that preserved their modesty and body heat but allowed freedom of movement.
They stood upon the bank of either fork of Two Oceans Creek, just above the place of the "parting of the waters," and watched the stream pursue its rapid but dangerous and uncertain course along the very crest of the "Great Continental Divide." A creek flowing along the ridgepole of a continent is unusual and strange, and well worth watching and experimenting with.
They waded to the middle of the North Fork, and, lying down upon the rocks in its bed, drank the pure icy water that was hurrying to the Pacific, and, without rising, but by simply bending a little to the left, took a draught from that portion of the stream which was just deciding to go east, via the Missouri-Mississippi route, to the Gulf of Mexico.
And then they tossed chips, two at a time, into the stream. Though they would strike the water within an inch or so of each other, not infrequently one would be carried by the current to the left, keeping in Atlantic Creek, while the other might be carried a little to the right and enter the branch running across the meadow to Pacific Creek; the one beginning a journey which will finally bring it to the Great Gulf, the other entering upon a long voyage in the opposite direction to Balboa's ocean.
Rayford watched them play and hold hands, and felt a pang of nostalgia. He'd have loved to share a similar moment with Irene, or Amanda, or really the both of them, however awkward it might have been. He knew, by faith, that both his wives and his daughter were in a better place, enjoying much greater wonders, but still, he couldn't share the here and now. How often had he or his colleagues flown above this beautiful place at six hundred miles an hour? How often had he blown off Irene's last-minute affections at security just to get a preflight check done thirty seconds faster, until she'd stopped coming to the airport to wave him goodbye?
"The world used to be a smaller place."
"Ha! You're wrong, my good sir. The world's still the same. There's just more in it!"
Rayford shook from his reverie - he hadn't expected an answer, much less one from the radio. He must've left the horn up.
"Uh, hello? This is Captain Steele of the PMA Perdix, come on back?"
"I am Captain Baltor of the Blackbeard, and Captain Steele, you have something I want! So here's your choice: defend yourself or prepare to be boarded!"
Rayford glanced around; this was a joke, right? He looked around to see his crew having tensed immediately, and looking at him.
"Orders, sir?"