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Back The Last Christian
Chapters (58)
  1. Cover
  2. Other Books by This Author
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Acknowledgments
  7. Prologue
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. Author’s Note

“A visi…”

“Visiscreen. It’s the way I see things on the Grid. You don’t need it if you have a neural implant, but I don’t.” Abby looked confused, and Kate didn’t want to throw too much at her too soon. “I’ll explain later. Did you have Grid access in the jungle?”

“We lost it when I was little.”

They flipped through several dozen images.

“That’s my mother,” Kate noted. “She lives in Indiana. And this is my father. He’s in Arizona.”

“Are they no longer married?”

Kate smiled. “They were never married. Abby, people don’t get married much anymore.”

“Oh.”

She went to the next image. “That’s Matt.”

They both examined the image for a moment.

“Do you miss him?”

Kate inhaled deeply, then looked at Abby. “Yes, quite a bit. I thought we’d be together a long time.” She pulled up the next image. It was a side view of Kate, obviously pregnant. She felt her airway constrict, her chest suddenly tight. How could she have forgotten the photo was in this file?

Abby sat up straighter. “You have a baby?”

“I meant to delete this picture.” Her words were just above a whisper.

“Why? Did you…have a child?”

Kate shook her head. “I…I had a stillborn child. A little girl, a year and a half ago.”

“With Matt?”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off the image. They sat quietly for several moments. When Abby spoke, her voice quavered with grief. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I’ve seen many stillborns. It’s very painful, I know.”

Kate turned toward her, her eyes moist. “How have you seen so many?”

“Midwifing for the Inisi. It’s common.”

“Not in the States. No one understands what it’s like.” Kate wiped away a tear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get emotional.”

“No, it’s okay.” She placed her hand on Kate’s, tears tracking down her face as well. “I know what it’s like…to lose a daughter.”

Kate looked at her and smiled gently. “No one’s ever called her my daughter before.”

7

I spent the afternoon actually doing what the university employed me to do. Dealing with my father’s death had put me hopelessly behind. After tinkering with a new lecture for an hour, I took the easy way out. The students in my American Cultural History Since 1900 class would construct cultural-impact questions regarding four mid-twentieth-century events (the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Kennedy assassination, the Vietnam War, and the civil rights movement), and we would discuss them. Lesson planned.

I returned home and accessed taps that I had been ignoring all afternoon. Several more students wanted my reaction to the brain transplant story. This news could be a defining moment for their generation.