She understood, then, the nature of the force that was drawing her north. She did not arrive until spring and even then was caught by surprise. It was early morning, the forest air thick with mist. The sea, far below, at the base of a tall cliff, was heavy and dark. In the dense shade of trees, she was cresting a rise when all of a sudden a feeling of completeness overwhelmed her, so arresting that it froze her in her tracks. She ascended the rest of the way and emerged into a clearing with a view of the ocean, and there her heart seemed to stop.
The field was carpeted with the most lustrous show of wildflowers she had ever seen—flowers by the hundreds, the thousands, the millions. Purple irises. White lilies. Pink daisies. Yellow buttercups and red columbines and many others she knew no names for. A breeze had arisen; the sun had broken through the clouds. She shrugged off her pack and walked slowly forward. It was as if she were wading into a sea of pure color. The tips of her fingers brushed the petals of the flowers as she passed. They seemed to bow their heads in salutation, welcoming her into their embrace. In a trance of beauty, Amy moved among them. Corridors of golden sunshine fell over the field; far away, across the sea, a new age had begun.
Here she would make her garden. She would make her garden, and wait.
Epilogue
The Millennialist
Indo-Australian Republic
Pop. 186 million
1003 A.V.
The past is never dead. It’s not even past.
—WILLIAM FAULKNER, REQUIEM FOR A NUN
90
Third Global Conference on the North American Quarantine Period
Center for the Study of Human Cultures and Conflicts
University of New South Wales, Indo-Australian Republic
April 16–21, 1003 A.V.
Transcript: Plenary Session 1
Welcoming Address by Dr. Logan Miles
Professor and Chair of Millennial Studies, University of New South Wales, and Director of the Chancellor’s Task Force on North American Research and Reclamation
Good morning and welcome, everyone. I’m happy to see so many esteemed colleagues and valued friends in the audience today. We have a busy schedule, and I know everyone is eager to get started with the presentations, so I will keep these opening remarks brief.
This gathering, our third, brings together researchers from every settled territory, in virtually every field of study. Among our numbers, we count scholars in disciplines as various as human anthropology, systems theory, biostatistics, environmental engineering, epidemiology, mathematics, economics, folklore, religious studies, philosophy—and on and on. We are a diverse group, with a range of methodologies and interests. But we are united by a common purpose, one that runs far deeper than any specific field of study. It is my hope that this conference will serve not only as a springboard for innovative scholarly collaboration but also as an occasion for reflection—the opportunity for all of us, individually and collectively, to consider the broader, humanistic questions that lie at the heart of the North American Quarantine and its history. This is especially important now, as we pass the millennial mark and the project of North American reclamation, under the authority of the Trans-Pacific Council and the Brisbane Accord, moves into its second phase.
A millennium ago, human history very nearly came to an end. The viral pandemic we know as the Great Catastrophe killed over seven billion people and brought humanity to the edge of extinction. Some among us would assert that this event was an arbitrary occurrence—nature’s way of shuffling the deck. Every species, no matter how successful, eventually encounters a force greater than itself, and it was simply our turn. Others have postulated that the wound was self-inflicted, the consequence of mankind’s rapacious assault upon the very biological systems that sustained our existence. We made war on the planet, and the planet fought back.