Whisper Gatherers Read Online Free PDF

on that. Why I was younger than you by an orbit or more when I chose your greatgranda. He always said that he spotted me first, but I’d been eyeballing him for many orbits.”
    Although I kept my face relaxed and assumed a countenance of interest, my insides screamed to flee. Granny Amranwen spurted out the exact same blabberings every time I saw her. Which was no more than twice an orbit at most; thank the sky and all the stars in it. Still, I knew she would babble on until a tasty was brought before her.
    I nudged Santy. She fumbled in her side pocket for something to distract her. To my relief, Santy held forth a luscious bar of Sterichoc. Granny Amranwen snatched it from her hand, tore off the red crinkly wrapper and stuffed half the thing into her drooling mouth. I turned away when the brown sweetie stuff began to melt and ooze down her chin. Quicker than a bumble collecting pollen, two staffnursies from Goldenagehome, rose from their seats, produced a Steriwipe each, in one swift movement, they’d cleaned her face.
    “Mind what you are doing Meilyr, I nearly choked. Where are the puppets?”
    “No puppets today, Ma. It’s the lastday ceremony of the ripe ones. Remember?’ Meilyr said. The big staffnursey bent down to where she was sitting and took her frail hand in his. How fragile her small fingers looked in his great paws. Aptly named ‘ironman’ this ‘dult. For I have seen him lift two male juves right up into the air, one in each hand, when they said a rude thing about one of his oldies.
    “Ah, waste of time. I wanted to see the puppets. If I’d known it was only Aledra’s lastday thingy, I’d have stayed put, played ‘gokittlego’ on my new slab gizmo.” We all laughed. She tutted. “Like I said, it’s a boring life. Nothing ever happens.”
    I became aware of a rumbling sound, not unlike thunder. I turned to Santy Breanna and saw her tear off down the central aisle towards the main door. Greatgrangran folded her arms and let her head drop onto her chest. I strained my neck to see what was going on.
    “Our time is nigh. Prepare to meet your maker. Make peace with the BabyCheesus and repent your slovenly ways!”
    Huffin’ hell, Praisebees.
    Santy Breanna was pushed backwards by two burly guards as a whole load of Christfans burst into the building. They wore long flowing tunics tied loosely around the waist by some raggedy rope. They flipped-flopped their way towards the stage with scanty sandals that exposed chipped and mucky toenails. They showed their teeth. I’d never seen such dirty dental prongs before. All were tarnished brown, with stuff that looked like flesh, stuck between them. Some gouged out the sinuous bits with their jagged fingernails and popped the remnant into their mouths to be swallowed with relish. So, not just Praisebees then? Were these fanatics Carnies too? I shuddered.
    A great gasp and a putting of hands over mouths ensued as these bedraggled worshippers walked past. I saw Santy Breanna try to force her way through the Praisebee guards, but they were huge and stood in front of her like the trunks of trees.
    The sheriff and Headteach, who were still on the stage, huddled together and looked around for some kind of security backup. Sheriff Fychan, a small thin male without much hair, yanked out a comdevice and screamed down it for assistance. He threw the thing onto the floor when all it did was make a buzzing noise. He peeled the Headteach’s arms from around his waist. Stepping forward, he said, “Stop right where you are. Advance no further. I said, stop!”
    The Praisebees did not. Instead, they tramped faster chanting, “Cheesus is life. Cheesus is good. Believe in him and live forever.”
    A catchy little ditty to be sure, but it fell upon deaf ears. All in Cityplace believed in the OneGreatProvider that centuries ago saved the few remaining bigwigs from famine and disease. He built our now great home where we live, safe and sound. Except that today, we were