The Birth of People's Republic of Antartica, стр. 41
“I do not, Grandfather,” I said.
“Then you begin to understand the power and the wisdom of Lord God, almighty and all terrible and all righteous. We of the League did his work. We tried to build us an ark. We tried to save a remnant from the wrath of Lord God for mankind’s loathsomeness. We tried and it was worth the trying. Their wickedness is alive, stronger every day. We might have succeeded. It is my failure that I was called away, that I was not strong enough to see our work to the end. It is also my failure that, for my wrong to you, I am brought low. I accept my path. I have you. I do not challenge Lord God’s wisdom. I serve it.”
“Please, Grandfather, I don’t know the Bible as you do,” I said, deep breathing, for if ever there was a first moment for me to learn moral courage, that was it, “but didn’t Lord God, didn’t he promise Noah, after the flood, that he would never send the waters again, no matter how evil man might become?”
Grandfather rumbled; the sound of a mountain moving. And I do believe that he started a smile that was erased by the wind.
“I cannot believe it was as you say,” I continued. “And I cannot believe Lord God would do that to people. At Vexbeggar they burned schools and churches. They shot at children. And those poor people drowned their own babies. I think I had to kill a man because of what your League did.”
“You fought for your own. That is not wrong. We fought for our own. That is not wrong. Their wickedness, Grim, it is everywhere. Satan takes the soul of any man who does not love Lord God completely. What I have seen! What I have done! What can a boy know of what heathen do to believers in the name of their kind of justice? Their justice. Not mine. I am prepared to admit my error. Show me where I was wrong to fight for my people. Show me, tell me. I was not wrong! I struck at darkness, as you did at Vexbeggar. You call me ugly and wrong. The darkness is worse than anything you have seen. You do not know the dark. It is not that sky. It is not that sea. It is not what I have done. It is there and there and there!” Grandfather flung his arms south, east, west.
I stood beside him, looked out in the directions he gave. I said, “I see the world, Grandfather. It frightens me. It doesn’t hate me. Why should I hate it?”
“You want to see the darkness?” he said, annoyed, ferocious. “Then use your eyes and wits. If you had, you would have seen that German wolf to starboard today.”
“What wolf?” I said.
“Do you want to know of that place of theirs, that heathen land, America? Does your father tell you? Does that woman? Have you heard of their infamy?”
“Do you mean Vietnam?”
“Done and gone! Worse than what a boy sees. See it!”
I felt I was missing a fantastic battle. I wanted to see something. I strained. There was still only the world. He put his arm around me, not friendly, a death grip.
“You!” thundered Grandfather. “I want to save you from their darkness! Come with me. We can take that karfi of yours and make northwest. I know some good men. Greenland would take us in. We could fish, keep clear for a while longer.”
“What has happened? What haven’t you told me?”
“There is no refuge. There is no sanctuary. There is no peace. This Baja, this California—lies! We cannot fight them there. We must run, and fight only when we cannot run more. See it!”
He ordered me to leave, not to bother him again until I had made my decision about Greenland. I had no reply, could not imagine what I should say. Was Grandfather mad, as Israel said repeatedly. Or was he trying to tell me something significant in a language I could not interpret? I wanted to establish a sure relationship with him despite his thunder. Grandfather was a man with whom one could be intimate, if he permitted, without ever enjoying an intimate moment. His devotion to me was direct, captivating. He did not want to talk about it, or even show it in any normal manner. I asked myself why he seemed to believe in me so absolutely. He did say he owed me for his wrong to me, for abandoning me at birth. Perhaps his fidelity to Grim Fiddle was a way to express his dedication to the idea of his own destiny, perhaps his faith in me was part of his own discipleship. Then again, perhaps he believed in me simply because he loved me, as a grandfather should love his grandson.
If that was all of it—love—then I can puzzle out more than our bond. I can speak to what I am. For with that love Grandfather passed on to me huge parts of himself. I understand this now, that all the energy, fortitude, perseverance, daring, vision I possess, as well as the pridefulness, hypocrisy, cruelty, and plain dishonesty, springs from the fury in Grandfather; it is also mixed with what I learned from Father of the ironies of loss, surrender, helplessness. As I once learned to respect Father’s melancholy, I learned on board Angel of Death to respect Grandfather’s resolve. My situation on board Angel of Death was such that I could no more have denounced and turned from