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sure. This seed repository has become his mission, his holy duty. You’re very observant, picking up things about him quickly.”
    “I keep a journal, remember?”
    He nodded.
    “We’ve got to be discreet about whatever our friendship is,” Peggy said.
    “Or wherever it goes?” Abe asked, in a soft tone.
    Peggy nodded. “Or wherever it goes.” She smiled.
    Carefully, quietly, he went over and sat on the bed next to her. “You going to be OK?” he asked.
    She nodded, but she didn’t feel OK.
    “What did you write in your journal today?”
    Pausing, Peggy smiled softly. “That you saved my life by rescuing me, even if it risked upsetting your boss. Without you, I’d have died out there alone in the cold, and my unborn child too, never even getting the chance to live. This morning I felt the baby move again, really kicking hard. Less than two months to go now, but born into what? Starvation? I feel so uneasy about bringing a child into this world. Earth is going to die soon, as we all are. My pregnancy is coming to term and I don’t have a heck of a lot of choice here.”
    Her voice cracked with emotion, and trailed off. She cleared her throat, continued. “If I had only recently discovered the pregnancy, it might have been kindest to terminate. But that’s not the way it is at this point; I can’t do it now, not after getting to know my baby and her habits, even what she likes me to eat. I don’t know why, but I think it’s a girl.”
    “I wish I could say something to help you,” he said.
    She squeezed his hand. “You’re helping me just being here.”
    “We live in a culture that makes women feel like monsters for wanting to abort a child,” Abe said, “that killing a fetus is always wrong, even if the world into which the child is born is abusive and traumatizing, overwhelming her with so much fear that her brain can’t develop properly.”
    “Here I am, bringing a child into a world that is dead,” Peggy said. She stopped, her eyes welling with tears, then snuggled closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder, sobbing. “Oh God,” she whispered, “what kind of world will my child be born into? Can it ever be like it was again? Will she have any sort of a chance?”
    Abe put his arm around her shoulder and said, “I wish I knew, but I don’t. Somehow, we need to have faith that what is happening, no matter how difficult, is meant to be. I know that sounds overly religious and all of that crud that lets people off the hook for being narrow-minded and cruel, but somehow we have to believe that it will all make sense in the end, that our lives have purpose.”
    Peggy took a long shuddering breath. She felt very vulnerable, and unable to protect her child. “Oh God, Abe, I wish I had your courage, your faith.” She smiled. “You don’t subscribe to any organized religion, but you’re very spiritual.”
    Abe gave s short, nervous laugh. “You give me too much credit. I just try to be optimistic, to keep from going bug-bonging crazy.”
    In spite of her fear and grief, Peggy had to laugh with him.
    Outside the door, Benitar Jackson heard their muffled conversation and laughter. He was not at all amused.

CHAPTER 7
    Benitar Calls for Discipline

    In his office afterward, Benitar Jackson wore a virtual-reality headset, which projected computer images in front of his eyes, e-mail messages from Conelrad and the news services to which he subscribed. For two days he had been operating in a news vacuum, since the messages weren’t getting through. Finally, probably due to a break in the weather, the data was flowing again.
    The news ranged from very bad to catastrophic, over much of the planet. A super typhoon with 310 mile per hour winds leveled half of the buildings in Hong Kong. A 90-foot tidal surge from a powerful storm wiped out Venice. Tornadoes had raged through New York, Washington D.C., and Philadelphia. Nearly a million additional people were dead or missing and presumed