“What things?” I said. “I don’t know enough to think anything.”
“What would you like to know?” said Elijah in a kind but tired voice.
“How did it happen?” I said. “Where are my real…my other mother and father?”
“Do you know much about Gilead?” Elijah asked.
“Of course. I watch the news. We took it in school,” I said sullenly. “I went to that protest march.” Right then I wanted Gilead to evaporate and leave us all alone.
“That’s where you were born,” he said. “In Gilead.”
“You’re joking,” I said.
“You were smuggled out by your mother and Mayday. T
hey’d risked their lives. Gilead made a big fuss about it; they wanted you back. They said your so-called legal parents had the right to claim you. Mayday hid you; there were a lot of people looking for you, plus a media blitz.”
“Like Baby Nicole,” I said. “I wrote an essay about her at school.”
Elijah looked down at the floor again. Then he looked straight at me. “You are Baby Nicole.”
IX
Thank Tank
The Ardua Hall Holograph
24
This afternoon I had another summons from Commander Judd, brought to me in person by a junior Eye. Commander Judd could have picked up the phone himself and discussed his business that way—there is an internal hotline between his office and mine, with a red telephone—but, like me, he can’t be sure who else might be listening. In addition, I believe he enjoys our little tête-à-têtes, for reasons that are complex and perverse. He thinks of me as his handiwork: I am the embodiment of his will.
“I trust you are well, Aunt Lydia,” he said as I sat down across from him.
“Flourishing, praise be. And you?”
“I myself am in good health, but I fear my Wife is ailing. It weighs upon my soul.”
I was not surprised. The last time I saw her, Judd’s current Wife was looking shopworn. “That is sad news,” I said. “What seems to be the malady?”
“It is not clear,” he said. It never is. “An affliction of the inner organs.”
“Would you like someone at our Calm and Balm Clinic to consult?”
“Perhaps not just yet,” he said. “Most likely it is minor, or perhaps even imaginary, as so many of these female complaints prove to be.” There was a pause while we regarded each other. Soon, I feared, he would again be a widower, and in the market for another child bride.
“Whatever I can do to help,” I said.
“Thank you, Aunt Lydia. You understand me so well,” he said, smiling. “But that isn’t the reason I asked you here. We have taken a position on the death of the Pearl Girl we lost in Canada.”
“What in fact transpired?” I already knew the answer, but had no intention of sharing it.
“The official Canadian account of the matter is suicide,” he said.
“I am devastated to hear this,” I replied. “Aunt Adrianna was one of the most faithful and efficient…I placed much trust in her. She was exceptionally courageous.”
“Our own version is that the Canadians are covering up, and the depraved Mayday terrorists enabled by Canada’s lax toleration of their illegal presence killed Aunt Adrianna. Though between you and me, we are baffled. Who can tell? It may even have been one of those random drug-related killings so prevalent in that decadent society. Aunt Sally was just around the corner purchasing some eggs. When she returned and discovered the tragedy, she wisely decided that a swift return to Gilead was her best option.”
“Very wisely,” I said.