The Interconnected freed themselves from the bondage of marriage and family early in the years after the establishment of Sherwood. It has been said, in the absence of money, marriage simply lost its root. Others have pointed to the idea that in the upheaval of so many aspects of traditional life, the structures of family ceased to hold power. Our romantic notions of marriage dissolved as we let go of our possessions. The nuclear family faded away, with the notion of property. Children became the joy and responsibility of everyone. The culture of not clinging to partners, monogamy, sexual stereotypes, or ownership of things or people, defined what it was to become interconnected.

The traditionalists decried this behavior as depraved. What both the traditionalists and the Interconnected agreed upon, however, was the abomination of polygamy. The Interconnected hated polygamy because it combined the outdated bondage of marriage with the subjugation of women. The traditionalists hated it because it was not what they perceived as the biblical norm.

The pressure to lean toward polygamy rose during the fall in fertility brought on by the success of the Siberian Zika virus. Polygamist communities sprouted up worldwide, lead by men who touted the plural marriage imperative for increased chances of births. Their arguments made logical sense, but the practice overwhelmingly encouraged closed societies which oppressed women and exalted men. Horrific stories of enslaved women escaped the closed walls of these societies. Soon, polygamists everywhere were met with scorn, casting them as pariahs, and causing them to become increasingly insular.

– The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide, Vol. 6, lines 730 - 732 (unpublished)

Marto was cheating. He was also stalling. He sat with Zeke and his four wives whose names had already escaped him, Helen and Maxtor in a basement under Zeke's house. Zeke didn't seem to notice Marto had been writing in his head. He doubted Zeke would have thrown him out in the storm if he did.

The wind gathered strength outside. The basement was damp but comfortable. There were lit candles and food in jars. An awkward silence lay between Marto's party and Zeke's. Only Maxtor seemed oblivious. He ate pickled string beans from one of the jars, cheerfully waiting out the storm.

Marto gathered his courage and looked at Helen. When she had caught his eye, he said: "I'm ready."

Helen had forgotten all about the data packet. Startled by the remembrance of it she said, "Oh, okay. I'm not really sure how to..."

• • •

There is a light and a presence in the light. His mother's arms, his mother's face. He is enveloped in her presence. She is speaking to him.

"You were born Matthew Gerald Baxter."

"Your father was Ignatius Roman Baxter. My maiden name was Emily Elizabeth Fitzgerald. My father, your maternal grandfather Holden, was the last of a long line of male heirs to the Fitzgerald Oil fortune. Your father would have been heir to the Baxter mining fortune if it had not been dissolved upon the death of his father, your grandfather Lawrence."

"Your father and I met at a gala thrown by our families at the Fitzgerald summer home near Park City, Utah. Even as the world they had inherited crumbled around them, we were prohibited from dating outside of our social circles. You need to know I loved your father, regardless of the circumstances which threw us together. He was a kind and generous man."

His fathers face appears to him, without the beard, the light colored glasses framing his smiling eyes.

"We lived in the same summer home where we had been promised to each other. The remote location protected us from the Vengeance. A few of your father's friends lived with us. We had plenty of room, and everyone helped with the upkeep of the large house. Our years there were isolated, but happy."

He remembers the house, a rectangular oversized redwood chalet, with decking set around the second and third stories, overlooking the mountains and the snow.

"When you were three years old, my mother, your grandmother Joan came to visit us. She told your father and me that our families were moving into an underground shelter in Alaska to wait out the killing spree. By then it was raging through the country and most of the world. She came by helicopter with four bodyguards. She ended up screaming at us, imploring us to join her. Your father was the one to say no. He said we were not going to wait for death in a tomb. We would take our chances above ground. I was unsure at the time, but I now know he was right. That was the last I saw of my mother."

He saw pictures of his grandfathers and grandmothers, images from parties, galas, museums. He saw his great grandfathers and great grandmothers, more parties, boardrooms, expansive parlors, men smoking cigars and drinking brandies, women in beautiful gowns.

"One of your father's friends living with us was a pilot. His name was Lucas Chen. When The Vengeance had reached Salt Lake City for the second time, we knew it was time to leave our home. We flew a Piper Shoshone out from a local airfield and headed east toward Boston and your uncle Charles. We were supposed to refuel in Kansas but the airfield had been overtaken by an army of men in jeeps and on motorcycles. They shot at us, hitting a window in the cockpit, missing Luke. We were able to keep flying. All of the following airstrips we passed were unsafe. Our fuel ran out over Ohio."

He saw the view from the window again. Then the feeling of his mother holding him tight against her chest.

"Luke was a good pilot. He managed to touch down in a field, but the plane turned over on one of the wings. He was killed in the crash. Your father and I carried you from the plane."

"We needed new names. We were in shock. I'm afraid we weren't at all clever about it. Iggy said I should be Mary because it sounded plain. I said he should be Warren because I always liked the name. We walked for miles until we finally saw a broken old Walmart. They used to be everywhere, and Iggy and I would joke about them when we were teenagers. Now they seemed like a remnant of a golden age of plenty. We decided to name you after that crumbling icon. We shortened it to Marto. Our last name became Boxster, close to Baxter, but more like Box Store. We prayed no one would see the similarity."

He can taste the pickled eggs, see his father with the beard covering his face. He can feel his mother's tears on his arm.

"We made our way on foot for the longest time. We finally found help from an Amish town in Ohio. We were starving. They took us in and fed us. I thought we should ask to join them and try to convert to their ways. Your father was adamant we keep pressing on. The town was called Paradise West. If it had not been for those kind wonderful people, I think we would have died. They helped connect us with wagon rides between their communities and the Mennonites', following their trade routes, until we were close to the Hudson River. That was when we met Fish."

He sees a tall man with long sparse blonde hair blowing around his head. He has an easy smile, his hands loosely held at his sides. Behind him is a river. He is high above it, on a cliff.

"At this point, your father and I were fighting all the time. I think he was still holding onto hope our old way of life could be restored. I entertained no such illusions. From everything I could see, our world was gone. We had seen no signs of any modern civilization since the plane crash. The only people who seemed to be thriving were the Amish and Mennonites who had reverted to simpler, more agrarian ways long ago. When we met Fish and were welcomed into Reverside, I saw a new way of life, and new possibilities."

"If we wanted to stay in Reverside, Fish told us we would have to get augmented. Iggy was dead set against it. I was nervous but knew it might be our only hope for a new life. When your father was sleeping, I found Fish and received my first implants. I needed to know it would be safe before you might have to have your own implants put in. It was truly disgusting, but over time, a whole new world opened up to me. I never told your father about this. After our first week without fear and exhaustion since our escape from Utah, we moved on toward Boston."

He is riding in a wagon behind a tandem bike, ridden by his mother and father. The air was moist and warm. The trees are lush and different. He loves the feeling of movement, and the silent new people they meet on the way.

"We stopped at dozens of tribal towns as we made our way north and east. The people were strange but friendly. I noticed there were no families and it disturbed me. Would I have to give you up if we returned to Reverside? For the sake of your safety, I was willing. There were no more armies of dirty men with guns. Some of the towns seemed poorly provisioned, and others richly so. In all of the towns, we were well fed, rested, and encouraged to continue on our way. Seeing these people affected me greatly. I felt I was slowly becoming part of them. I could hear them in my head. They kept my secret from Iggy and you. I engaged in discussions, silently, about the fall of wealth and the rise of Merit. They knew me only as Mary Boxster. I had a feeling even these kind people might turn on us if they knew us for what we were."

"We made it to the terrible remains of Boston, Charles wasn't in his Brookline home, which had been crowded by the Interconnected. They lounged about his living room and slept in his many bedrooms. Boston was far from safe for us. Remnants of The Vengeance lurked on the outskirts of the city. They were not like the bikers we saw in Ohio. They were regular people with an unquenchable rage."

"After asking around, we discovered a man of Charles' description was living north of Boston in a town called Medford. We found him there just before The Vengeance arrived. You were playing with a ball outside, and when we heard you calling for us, your father, my dear Ignatius, ran out to confront them. I heard them shouting 'Defilers' and 'Greedy Takers' and feared that we were all going to die. Iggy held the mob long enough for Charles to sneak us into his truck and drive us to his boat. I never saw what happened to him, but I feel certain they killed him on that road. This is the fate of all people like us who dare to be exposed to the mobs."

He is hanging his head over the side of the boat, the water is rushing past in gently bulging, green, foamy waves. His mother assures him his father will be joining them shortly. He feels sad. He misses his dad.

"And so we returned to Reverside. Charles said he was continuing up the Hudson to Montreal. I don't know what's become of him."

"I made a decision when I saw Fish again. Alone, on the top floor of the old mansion, I told him who we were. I was hoping against hope we could live openly there. I was wrong. He went dark and silent for what seemed like an hour. I just stood there, cursing myself for telling him."

He is playing with five children on an old expansive living room floor. They don't speak to him. They are friendly and fun. The sun shines in through high old wooden framed glass windows.

"After his silence, Fish said he wouldn't harm us, but I must never again tell anyone what I told him. He also said we had to leave. I was devastated. I pleaded with him to let us stay, but he said it was too dangerous. He said I would eventually reveal my origins, and it wouldn't be safe for you. I made promises, pleaded, offered him whatever he wanted, which I now understand was ridiculous. Finally, he made me a deal."

"He told me Reverside and other Interconnected towns by the Hudson were in constant danger from what he called 'the Neo-Feudal Enclaves.' These were the powerful remnants of rich families to the south and east. They employed Vengeance mobs which he called 'Raiders.' He wanted me to gain employment for one of these families, and send back intelligence on them. In exchange, you could stay in Reverside, and be protected. They had an implant which would make you forget me, your father and our hateful legacy. I made him promise that when you were old enough, your memories would be returned to you. He acquiesced. It was an awful solution, but I agreed to it in order to save you. I was ready to do anything to keep you safe."

There is a strange woman leaning over him. He is lying on his bed, playing games with his friends in his head. She strokes his hair. She kisses his forehead. His head is wet. She is weeping. She turns and walks out the front door.

"They implanted you. You took to the technology easily. Fish said it was common for children to adapt quickly. I watched you forget me. I needed to see it, to be sure you would never expose who you were to your new family. I left to work for Barnabas. I have been his servant for 24 years. I will tell you he is every bit as awful as Fish said he would be, but I have a growing number of supporters here, and soon we will take our revenge on this terrible clan."

"I waited until you were thirty years old to let you know about your true lineage. A lot of time has passed. It is possible your people will be able to let you continue to live among them, even knowing you were born from a family with such a hated history. It pains me to let you know you are the inheritor of such a legacy as ours. I live every day with the innate burden of responsibility for what has happened to our dear earth. It is a hot mantle of pain I hand down to you now. I am truly sorry. But this is who you are Matthew. This is the truth. Please know I think of you every day and I love you with all my heart."

"This message is private, but it may be read as it is passed to you. I hope not. I don't want to put you in any danger, but I have assurances this will be handled correctly. I will be leaving New Atlantic soon. If all goes well, I will be far away shortly and this place will be rebuilt. When the time is right, you will know where to find me."

"Be well, my darling son. Be happy. Wander wakefully and find your joy. I will always be with you, no matter what you choose. Your faithful mother, Emily."

• • •

Helen looked into his eyes as they opened. The wind continued to howl outside. Maxtor continued to eat. Zeke regarded them silently, his arms folded across his chest.

"Marto, are you..."

"Don't," he whispered.

"What?" she asked him, her hand on his shoulder. "What did you see?"

Marto sat up, casting a cautious glance at Zeke, who was talking with one of his wives, then over to Maxtor, who was still busy with another pickle jar, and the Ninjas who were playing a complicated game involving clapping each other's hands, waving, and thumping their chests. He sent Helen a private message.

["I saw my mother, my grandmother, my father, and where I was born. I saw my parent's escape from the clutches of The Vengeance. I'm not who I thought I was. I'm a fraud."]

Helen's head snapped back slightly, and her eyes widened. What had she been carrying? ["What are you talking about? How can you be a fraud?"]

Marto slumped. It was as he had feared. His true identity was secret because it was dangerous and horrible. Helen moved her hand around his back to hold him closer, offering him some comfort. ["I'm an Aristo,"] he messaged her. ["I'm an Elite. My family was the worst of them all. My mother was one of them. My father was one of them. I saw my real lineage. I'm the last remaining son of the Defilers."]