The History of Soul 2065
Page 23
Rachel stared at him. “Edward!” she said. “I can’t ask you to…”
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s a purely selfish act. I’m expecting you to mention my name to your public at least twice a week until somebody re-options one of my series.”
He grinned, and Rachel threw a pillow at him. “Ouch!” he protested.
Yolanda smiled slightly and simply said, “Susan’s asleep.”
They quietly stood and left the room.
* * *
Sixty years later.
Yolanda called Rachel and said that one of the members of her congregation—a former child survivor from New York—was giving a seder and would be delighted if she and Annie came. Rachel said she’d think about it. Annie glared at Rachel, then said that of course, they’d be happy to come.
“I can’t do that to your friend,” Rachel said impatiently. “Ever since I mentioned I attend an annual seder in that interview a couple of years ago, our systems are deluged every year by cards and gifts from fans. It’s a pain in the ass. We have to farm out part of our feed to avoid bringing the whole thing crashing down.”
“His wife works in communications,” said Yolanda calmly. “We’ve got it covered. Reserve your flight.”
Yolanda and her congregants lived a few miles outside of Minneapolis in a suburban community that was protected from airborne toxins by a large bubble of forced air and chemicals that surrounded several miles of territory. By the time Rachel and Annie had arrived, preparations were well under way. While the adults bustled around in the kitchen and dining room, the family’s children put on a play for their guests, who laughed and applauded.
“Kids,” came the cry, “Come set the table!” The children dashed away, leaving a sudden silence, broken only occasionally by the voices at the other end of the house.
“They’re great kids,” said Rachel. “But isn’t it strange for them, growing up in such an artificial environment? I mean, they never get outside. Really outside.”
“It’s healthier for them,” Yolanda said. “Better that than having to reach for an airsock every time the particle levels get too high. And we take them on trips in the cooler weather, when things are safer.”
They sat quietly for a moment. Suddenly, without speaking, Yolanda reached out to Annie and Rachel, and took their hands. Rachel took Annie’s other hand, completing the small circle.
“Go ahead,” Yolanda said to Rachel.
“We greet Abram and Edward and…” Rachel started, and then pressed her lips together. “I can’t,” she whispered. They just sat, heads bowed, remembering, while an errant breeze stirred the window curtains.
* * *
Seventy years later.
Rachel sat and stared at the ocean. These days, she liked to come to the shore as often as possible to watch the birds dip and soar, scuttle along the shore hunting for small shellfish and insects, or dig through the sand for leftover food from human visitors.
It was getting harder, though. Oh, Rachel could get herself to the boardwalk easily enough; her chair moved her around with only the twitch of a finger. But the discomfort—hell with that, the pain—was getting worse. At some point, even these days, medications could only do so much.
A few days ago, she had filled out all the necessary forms and had all the required interviews. They then fitted the small ampule in a special section of the chair.
Now, Rachel sat for a few more minutes, watching the birds and listening to their distant calls. A brown pigeon fluttered down in front of her chair and pecked at an interesting piece of shell.
After about half an hour, Rachel lifted her head and said, as clearly and loudly as she could, “Annie.”
The small holographic portrait appeared on the tray that extended from the left arm of her chair. Annie, gray-haired but still mischievous, blew a kiss and grinned at her.
“I’ll just be a few more minutes,” Rachel told her wife, dead these three years now. She tried to smile at the holo, failed, and shut it down.
It was a nice sunset. A few passersby walked along the boardwalk, and from a small building just behind her, there was a sudden spurt of sound: The raucous but pleasant noise of people singing badly but enthusiastically. Rachel had chosen this day and this spot purposefully—the building was a shared religious center, and tonight was the second night of Passover.
She listened for a moment. Had it really been that long since…? A sharp twinge bit at her stomach like a small arrow.
“Okay,” Rachel said out loud. “Enough of this shit.”
She reached down into the bag that hung from one arm of the chair and pulled out a pre-filled glass of wine. She peeled a layer of protective film from the top of the wineglass. She then tapped the glass lightly with the ring that she still wore on her left ring finger. It rang faintly but satisfactorily.
“This meeting of Soul 2065 is hereby called to order,” she told the pigeon. “I greet Abram, Yolanda, Edward, my mother Eileen, Uncle Mark and Aunt Susan, and my dear Annie, and ask them to remember me.” She paused. “No. I am the last living member, and so I ask them not simply to remember me, but to allow me to join them.” She paused and smiled slightly. “Along with any of our forebears who may want to join as well.”
Rachel placed her hand flat on her chair’s arm, and carefully recited the series of numbers and letters she had memorized. She felt an almost imperceptible vibration against her palm. Then she smiled and raised her face to the ocean. A breeze caressed her cheek.
“You were right, Aunt Susan,” she said. “If you just pretend you got it right, nobody will notice the mistakes.”
She sighed.
And part of the universe was made whole.
Acknowledgments
All families have their stories. Over the years, as they are passed from generation to generation, these stories can become ornately embroidered—so much so that those who actually experienced the events would probably not recognize themselves in the telling. It doesn’t mean that the tales should not be told.
Many of the stories in this book were inspired by accounts passed down from my family and the family of my partner. A few are partly true, none are absolutely true, and one or two I only wish were true. I simply took those seeds that had been planted in my imagination and went on from there.
I’ve been helped by many people along the way.
First, all the family members whose stories I listened to, remembered and misremembered, stretched and remade, in order to create these histories: the Krasnoffs, the Novicks and Novacks (don’t ask!), the Schwartzes, the Gritz’s, the Freunds, and all the other aunts, uncles, and cousins of varying degrees whose legacy I hope I have honored here in some small measure.
My friend Catherine Guido, who has patiently listened to my various stories over the years.
Carolyn Fireside, who first helped to give this book shape, and who I wish were still here to see the results. She is truly missed.
Bill Contardi, who read my proposal for the book, listened to my ideas, and freely shared his advice and experience.
The members of the Eighth of February and Tabula Rasa writing groups, whose critiques improved many of my stories over the years, with a special shout-out to Rick Bowes, whose insights I could not have done without.
Mercurio D. Rivera and Kay Holt, who were kind enough to do beta reads of the manuscript.
Jane Yolen, Samuel R. Delany, Carlos Hernandez, James Morrow, Jeffrey Ford, Rick Bowes and C.S.E. Cooney for writing such lovely sentiments about these stories.
Mike and Anita Allen, without whom this book would not exist.
And all the other friends, colleagues, talented writers and independent publishers who have encouraged me over the years. You know who you are. Thank you so much.
Praise for The History of Soul 2065
“Intriguing stories from the world of Humperdink and Sholem Aleichem, that return us to a time when a world that is achingly familiar and wonderfully strange is coming into being amon
g the Jewish children, beginning the imaginary journey of marvels forth and back between then and today.”
-—Samuel R. Delany, Hugo and Nebula Award–winning author of Atlantis: Three Tales, Dhalgren, and the Return to Nevèrÿon series
“This remarkable mosaic of interconnected stories, many of which were previously published, spans generations to relay the strange, somber, and deeply entwined histories of two Jewish families. In 1914, Chana, a Russian, and Sophia, a German, meet as young girls in a magical forest that somehow connects Lviv, Ukraine, and Munich. Though they promise to return, the girls are kept apart by war and family conflict. The branches of their family trees have semimystical experiences for generations to come … Powerful and dreamlike, this intergenerational meditation on family, mortality, and hope is far more than the sum of its parts.”
-—Publishers Weekly, starred review
“If David Mitchell plotted a speculative novel-in-stories that then Alice Munro wrote, you might get something approaching the ambition and beauty of Krasnoff’s The History of Soul 2065. Krasnoff creates a world so excessively alive, both with woe and human kindness, that history can’t contain them, and thus, they leak into haunted, uncanny realms. Told in prose so unassuming you might suspect irony, what you get is here the exact opposite of irony: hard-won empathy, though hidden beneath protective layers of wit and circumspection. That’s why Krasnoff’s stories retell themselves in our minds long after they’re finished. Like gentle ghosts that don’t know they’re dead and don’t realize they’re terrifying us, they just want to keep on having a nice chat with the reader. Forever.”
—Carlos Hernandez, author of Sal and Gabi Break the Universe
“Like all good mosaic novels, The History of Soul 2065 rewards its readers with both a beguiling narrative arc and a succession of individually riveting stories—in this case, twenty cannily uncanny tales involving ghosts, gods, demons, dybbuks, magic jewels, and time-bending birds. With its echoes of Tony Kushner’s Angels in America and Jonathan Lethem’s Dissident Gardens, Barbara Krasnoff’s multigenerational, phantasmagoric saga kept me turning the pages at a rapid pace.”
—James Morrow, World Fantasy and Nebula Award–winning author of Galápagos Regained
“There’s a lot of heart in Barbara Krasnoff’s collection, The History of Soul 2065—the warmth of home, the lies of families, the demons that lurk in trees, myths both great and small. It tells the fantastic history of two families, their journey through time, what they kept and what they lost. Plunge into The History of Soul 2065, there’s nothing like it.”
—Jeffrey Ford, World Fantasy and Nebula Award–winning author of Ahab’s Return: or, The Last Voyage
“Barbara Krasnoff’s great gift is for manifesting the invisible: immigrants and outcasts, the queer, the bereaved, elderly, children, ghosts. And, ah! The ghosts! The ghosts in The History of Soul 2065 arrive from both the past and the future to interact, and interfere, with each other and the living. Timelines tangle, bloodlines mingle, the mundane becomes magical. There is horror here, bitter droughts of hopelessness and gall, but each sip is offered with such a spirit of camaraderie and solidarity that sharing in it makes the aftertaste linger long and sweetly. The more I read this book, the more deeply I was impressed. Yes, impressed: in the sense of being indelibly marked by Krasnoff’s stories. I’ve been—ever so gently—cicatrized.”
—C. S. E. Cooney, World Fantasy Award–winning author of Bone Swans
“As a writer of mosaic novels—short stories that connect to tell a larger one—I admire the craft, humor, and emotional storytelling that Ms. Krasnoff brings to her work. Each of her stories, starting with two small European girls meeting in a woodsy park, has its own particular moment while connecting to the general theme.”
—Richard Bowes, World Fantasy Award–winning author of Minions of the Moon and Dust Devils on a Quiet Street
Also available from Mythic Delirium Books
Novels
LATCHKEY by Nicole Kornher-Stace
THE BLACK FIRE CONCERTO by Mike Allen
Collections
SNOW WHITE LEARNS WITCHCRAFT
Stories and Poems by Theodora Goss
world fantasy award winner
BONE SWANS: Stories by C. S. E. Cooney
shirley jackson award finalist
UNSEAMING by Mike Allen
THE SPIDER TAPESTRIES
Seven Strange Stories by Mike Allen
Anthologies
world fantasy award finalist
CLOCKWORK PHOENIX 5
Edited by Mike Allen
CLOCKWORK PHOENIX 4
Edited by Mike Allen
CLOCKWORK PHOENIX 3
New Tales of Beauty and Strangeness
Edited by Mike Allen
CLOCKWORK PHOENIX 2
More Tales of Beauty and Strangeness
Edited by Mike Allen
CLOCKWORK PHOENIX
Tales of Beauty and Strangeness
Edited by Mike Allen
MYTHIC DELIRIUM: Volume Two
Edited by Mike and Anita Allen
MYTHIC DELIRIUM
An international anthology of prose and verse
Edited by Mike and Anita Allen
Novelettes
THE SKY-RIDERS by Paul Dellinger and Mike Allen
Poetry
HUNGRY CONSTELLATIONS by Mike Allen