THE THREE LIVES OF CHRISTINA THE ASTONISHING (#44)

As Told by the Holy Woman in Her Own Words
A Hundred or So Years after the End of the World

Shortly thereafter, one of the young boys appeared at the bedchamber door with a small brown bear in tow. The bear had beady little eyes and fluffy ears that looked like they’d been tied on his head like a hat. A long narrow muzzle jutted like an anvil from his puffy face. The boy guided the bear gently to the center of the room and stood next to him. Unruly blonde hair flopped over the boy’s eyes as he held the leash loosely in his hand. He was, I recalled, the only one who hadn’t laughed when the Duke sent me to his bedchamber.
This bear was an adolescent male like his minder. I locked eyes with him and our thoughts began traveling back and forth.
They killed my mother, he said straightaway. He sent the image to me of how it was done.
I’m very sorry, I answered. This man has questions about the time before any of us was born. If you answer them, he may treat you better. Can you do this?
Of course, said the bear.
“So far this is hardly informative,” the Duke’s voice broke in over our silent exchange.
“We’re establishing communication. What do you want to ask about the past?”
The Duke made a contemptuous noise. Then he said simply, “What was the Great Miasma?”
Because you see, we all knew something terrible had happened to bring about the current state of affairs. But nobody could remember, or quite put their head around, what it was. “Great Miasma” was the label for the black void when the high civilization we read about in their printbooks ended and humankind entered the confusion it still inhabits today. Everyone understood that the problem involved something more than just losing the knowledge and the physical powers to run the machines. But what was it? No one could say.
I directed the question to the bear. The Great Miasma, he answered promptly, is nothing to concern yourselves with.
Why not?
Forget the past. What’s done is done. All that matters is the present.
“Well?” demanded the Duke.
“Wait a moment.” I totally agree with you, I told the bear. But this man wants to know certain facts about our past.
Past shmast, said the bear. Or words to that effect. And, as a parting shot: Heal yourselves.
When I conveyed the essence of his message to the Duke, he snorted, “Anyone could say that. The bear didn’t tell you anything, you’re making all this up. Prove that you’re not.”
Tell me something about this household I couldn’t possibly know, I asked the bear.
It seemed to me the bear was suppressing a snort of his own. Where to start?
Wherever.
His two eldest bastard sons are planning to kill him tonight.
I conveyed this information to the Duke, who turned pale but did not seem totally surprised. “Ask him how.”
Poison, said the bear.

(to be continued tomorrow)