Part 52 (1/2)

He seemed so desperate that Carlotta gave in. She and Uncle James went

into a roped-off area just below and to the left of the platform.

Uncle James didn't seem to mind. He sat quietly, lost in dreams of G.o.d

knows what moment of antique heroism, while Carlotta, standing behind

his chair, kept one eye on his systems reports and took in the sights of

downtown San Francisco with the other, the huge tapering buildings, the

radiant blue sky, the unusual trees, the s.h.i.+ning bridge stretching off to

the east.

Uncle James said suddenly, ”What are all these foreigners doing here?”

”Foreigners? What foreigners?”

”Look around you, girl.”

She thought at first that he meant people from the neighboring republics

and kingdoms: San Jose, Santa Cruz, Monterey, Mendocino. It wouldn't be

surprising that they'd be here, considering that this was a celebration

intended to commemorate the signing of the Armistice that had ended the

war of everybody against everybody and guaranteed the independence of

all the various Northern California nations. But how could Uncle James

tell a Santa Cruzian or a Montereyan from a San Franciscan? They didn't