SEPTEMBER SERVICE

by A.N.D.

I grew up watching Father lead the Tunnels. Why didn't I noticehow much work it was then? Vincent thought ruefully as he madethe long hike uptown after checking the seals on the tunnels near thepit that had once been the World Trade Plaza. Six years ago, Fatherhad formally stepped down and the Council had appointed Vincent totake his place. It was hardly unexpected - as the only tunnel dwellerwho had no chance of building a life above, Vincent was the mostinvested in making sure that their subterranean Shangri-La continuedto run smoothly. Still, he felt so proud that day, as if he wasstepping into his birthright.

Now he was stepping into mucky puddles while reciting andrejecting speeches. Checking that the downtown reconstruction didn'tbreach security was only the third item on a long list of things tobe done that day - a day that would end with him leading theSeptember Service, and he still didn't know what to say. All thestandard quotes seemed flat and stale, inappropriately trite for theoccasion. Vincent secretly suspected that the problem was because hefelt flat and stale. Old, even. He'd found his first grey hairyesterday. Father had been notably unsympathetic.

It was a little too early for the tunnel schoolday to havestarted, but as Vincent passed one of the class caverns he heard therapid clacking of plastic keys. Peering in from the doorway, he sawno- longer-little Jacob pounding at one of the donated computers. Thewiring of the tunnels had been one of Vincent's first acts as leader.How Father had protested! But times were changing above and below,and there was no reason to totally reject such a convenient way ofkeeping the helpers and the tunnel folk in touch, in addition toproviding valuable educational and training opportunities for thechildren below.

Plus, on the Internet no one knows you're a cat. Vincenthad made many far-flung chatroom friends and even taken a few onlineclasses. It was the small but vital difference between the tunnelsbeing his home and his prison.

Jacob's fingers were a blur and he never looked up, but Vincentknew through the two-way bond they had that his son knew he wasthere. The onset of puberty had brought out more of his father inhim; at barely 13 Jacob already had a scruffy blonde goatee to matchhis tousled hair. The nails flying over the keyboard were slightlythicker than human normal, and that easy smile showed the tip of asomewhat too long canine tooth... but the rest of Jacob was asbeautifully perfect as his mother. He would not be trapped Below!

"What are you doing?"

"Watching my auctions. Dad, check this out! You know that box ofpewter plates that I got at that flea market Uncle Devin took meto?"

"William hoped that you would donate those to the tunnels. We needmore plates."

"Yeah, but it turns out that these things are collectibles! Ibought that whole box for less than $20, and look how much it's up towith a day left to go!" Jacob pointed at a number on the screen andVincent almost swallowed his tongue.

"So much money..."

"Yeah! Tell William that I'm making enough to buy him a set ofbrand new dishes and donate some to the tunnel budget AND have plentyto put into the bank." Grinning with pride he added, "One moreauction like this, and I won't need any of Mom's money for my wholefirst year of medical school."

Used to giving things freely on request, Vincent found the wholeeBay craze among the tunnel teenagers incomprehensible. Still, themoney had helped a great deal. A single mechanical toy of Mouse's orone of Elizabeth's canvases brought in food, medicine, clothing,books and other necessities without draining the resources of theirhelpers. Still... "You know that Father fears that all this tradingof yours will make you greedy and materialistic."

Jacob snorted derisively. "He also thinks that I'll go blind if Ikeep looking at the monitor. Y'know, I don't mind that Father's notpart of the 21st century. I just wish he'd get out of the 18th."

Vincent had to chuckle at that, kissing his son on the top of thehead before ruffling his hair. "Don't let this make you be late forclass."

"I won't." Just as Vincent was turning to go, a chime sounded andJacob called after him. "Hey, it's an instant message from Mom. Shewants to know if they should bring anything when they come Below tothe memorial service tonight?"

"No. But tell her to hurry home, I miss her."

Jacob blushed. "Be sappy on your own time!" He sounded out thewords as he typed, "Dad says no. Dad says something mushy." There wasa pause and another chime, and Vincent came back to read the messageover his son's shoulder.

"Tell Daddy that I said something mushy back. Gotta go, Joe needsme. DON'T BE LATE FOR SCHOOL, bye, love you!"

Jacob looked at his watch. "Gotta run!" He rapidly shut down thecomputer, jumped up, and squeezed his father briefly on his rushout.

Not all the tunnel children went to school Above; in fact, moststayed below until they were ready for high school and too old toblurt the wrong thing to the wrong person. Catherine had fixed it uplong ago, filing the paperwork to list some of the helpers ashomeschoolers. As soon as Vincent reported back that the seals wereholding, it was time for him to join the 9th graders in their Englishclass.

They were studying Lord of the Flies, and were up to the death ofPiggy - a bad topic for the date. While Vincent grilled them aboutthe symbolism of the shattered conch shell, he couldn't keep his mindfrom wandering back to the unallegorical blow against civilization onthis day two years earlier. The horrific stench of electricalfires and charring flesh boiling up the tunnels in a toxic cloud ofgrey soot. The frantic attempts to reach their friends who had beenin the area, the hasty patches and arranged cave-ins to shut out thedust and keep the searchers from discovering their tunnels. Theoppressive feeling of sadness from everyone above pressing on hissensibilities. And worst of all, the moment Jacob and Catherine, bothabove at the time, KNEW what was happening. When they went numb withshock the bonds between them broke, terrifying him. But even thatemptiness wasn't as overwhelming as their uncomprehending fear andmisery, or his knowledge that he could not save them if moreterrorists struck.

In nine more hours, he had to find words that would make it allbetter. But what words could bring back those they had lost, takeback the ugly words spoken afterwards, give his people hope that itwouldn't happen again?

"People don't seem to be as upset this year as they were lastyear," Father said encouragingly as Vincent sulked into his studylater that day. "Maybe enough time has passed for everyone to beginto forget a little."

"You haven't been talking to Janet or Roger. They've been toldthat their children won't come home soon after all. All tours of dutyhave been extended. They aren't the only ones affected. More will behere tonight, hurting and afraid for their families."

Father rubbed his eyes. "This damned war! When will they learnthat violence never solved anything?"

Vincent, who had solved several problems in his life with personalapplications of violence, avoided answering. "What can I tell them? Ican't bring anyone back. We may live apart from the world Above-"

"Not as much as we used to," Father grumpily interrupted. "What'snext down here, cable TV? Microwaves?"

"Enjoying that online chess club you joined?" Vincent asked.

"I'm enjoying not being beaten every single game!"

Their shared smile rapidly faded. "We may live apart from theworld Above," Vincent repeated, "but we are still part of it. We areno safer down here than they are up there."

Father sighed. "I know. Do you remember those fights about what todo after the terrorist attack?"

"I remember. Some good people left us. I miss them still."

"How COULD Susie accuse us of pretending it didn't happen? Howwould disbanding the tunnel society help the world Above? Where wouldthat leave you?"

"She wasn't thinking past her pain. Just as Eric wasn't thinkingwhen he announced that he'd never go above again."

"He kept that vow for most of a year."

"I think he was afraid that Susie would make him enlist along withher if he did."

Father sighed again. "Brother against sister, friend againstfriend, people making announcements of 'what kind' of person shouldbe permitted to stay... that's exactly what this society was foundedto prevent. And yet it still came here and almost destroyed us."

"Almost. Just as the gold and then Paracelsus almost destroyed us.Yet we remain together."

"You have no idea how much I fear that the next round of insanitywill smash everything. Remember, all that is necessary for evil totriumph..."

"Father, that's IT! Thank you!"

"What?"

"I finally know the right thing to say!" Elated, Vincent huggedhis confused parent and rushed out to the next item on hisagenda.

It was a large and somber crowd that gathered that evening. LikeWinterfest in reverse, people arrived with candles. In this case, thecandles were already lit; rather than passing the flames along, theydeposited the still-burning candles in large cauldrons then found aseat among the shadows, whispering quietly to each other. Althoughthe pressures of daily life Above didn't allow the scheduling of amorning service Underground, Vincent waited symbolically until 8:48to step out of the darkness into the circle of cauldrons. Silencefell.

"New times call for new traditions," he began. "Two years ago, anew era began in fire and fear. The world we knew ended along withthe lives of thousands of innocent people. Family. Friends. Helpers.Strangers." He could see heads nodding in the shadows, hear a sniffor two and even a muffled sob.

"In our pain and confusion, we didn't know where to turn. So weturned on each other. When all was done, those left agreed thatWinterfest was not enough to remind us of the ties we shared. Wedecided that that once a year at this time we would gather toremember and mourn those who have left us."

He picked a candle out of the nearest cauldron. "We remember thosewhose lives will never light us again. We remember Kipper, interningin the North Tower."

"Kipper," the crowd sighed mournfully back at him as he blew thecandle out and picked up another one.

"We remember John..."

It was a long list. Many had been killed in the attacks; caughtAbove as the towers fell, caught Below in the cave-ins. Others hadenlisted in the rush of patriotism afterwards and fallen far fromhome. And they were not the only names to be spoken; the originaltunnel settlers were all very elderly, and were inevitably dying ofold age. Vincent listened for Father's, Pascal's, and Mary's voicesin the responses, his heart already aching for the time when he wouldbe reading their names aloud. At last the list ended. Vincent held upthe bundle of darkened candles, still barely visible in thecandlelight that was left. "Remember, oh ye survivors. Remember."

"We remember." A flash of white caught the corner of his eye as heput the spent candles down. Catherine was offering her handkerchiefto someone.

Not as long, but equally painful, was the list of "those who havetaken their light out into the world. Those who, we hope, will findtheir way back home by the light of these candles and our love forthem." At least Vincent was only moving the candles to one side andnot so decisively snuffing them. Still he knew that the rift ran toodeeply; some of their former friends would never return. But he couldhope.

Furthermore, he could offer that hope to everyone else. Vincenttook a deep breath and went onward.

"Last year, I told you all that no one ever dies while they livein our memories. That is still true, but it does not ease the pain ofloss. It does not reassure us that terrible tragedies will neverhappen again. I can't tell you that we will always be safe. But I cantell you this - everything will be all right."

There were puzzled noises from the shadows.

"Earlier today, Father reminded me of the poet who said that allthat is necessary for evil to triumph is for good people to donothing. I ask you - when have good people ever done nothing in theface of evil?"

He picked up one of the unlit candles, relighting it in acauldron. "Many years ago, men did not want to know the truth abouttheir bombs. They attacked and silenced all who stood in their way."He was walking across the chamber now, shielding the precious tinyflame from flickering. "But they could not silence the truth. And outof their persecutions one good man founded all that we have today.His light has guided us all." Vincent gave the candle to Father, whostared at it speechlessly with suspiciously wet eyes.

This time he relit two candles. "When a madman threatened my wifeand my child, good people stood against him and brought my familyhome safely. Good people who have become good friends to all of usBelow. Their light has inspired us and brought us happiness."

Joe's eyes were also wet as he accepted his candle, muttering ashy "Thank you." Diana didn't say anything, just nodded jerkily. Shewas too thin, Vincent realized as the candlelight picked out everyhollow in her face. Catherine had said that Diana's precinct had beenhit hard two Septembers ago, and that the detective was sufferingterrible survivor's guilt, which she was assuaging in overwork.Something had to be done for her. Something would be done, before shefaded into that otherworld only she and the departed Narcissa couldsee.

But that would be for later. Vincent gathered up two huge fistfulsof candles, ignoring the stings of dripping wax as he relit them all."Two years ago, good people rushed Above to do what they could do tohelp. They helped coordinate donations, gave blood, helpeddig..."

It took him four trips just to give out all the candles for thosedays. When he ran out of candles to light, he started redistributingthe ones in the cauldrons, listing all the good works done byeveryone there. He even produced a tiny birthday candle for Ling andHenry Pei's equally tiny latest child "to light her way."

At last, there was only one candle left. Vincent stood over it,flickering alone in its dark prison. "Look around you. We have cometo remember, so remember this -- no matter how horribly we areattacked, how badly we are frightened, how angry we can be, how manywe lose, there are still good people who will not stand idly by. Whenthe world around you is black, remember the light you hold." Hefinally picked his candle up, lifting it high as a beacon as hepromised:

"A light shineth in the darkness... and the darkness shall neverovercome it."