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Potato Thistledown," Mirsky said. "He was with me when we surrendered, and he advised me during the bad times after . I last saw him before I volunteered to go with the Geshel precincts. You've lived

through hard times, Viktor."

Garabedian continued to stare, his mouth slack. Then he turned to Lanier. "Sir," he said in halting English, "You have not stayed youthful.

Some have. But Comrade General Mirsky . ."

"No longer a general," Mirsky said quietly.

"He has not changed at all, except . "Garabedian squinted at Mirsky again, and said in Russian, "When you were shot, sir, you Page 307

changed. You became more resolved."

"I've been on a very long journey since."

"The people who brought me here . . . we seldom see them in Armenia.

They come to break up our little wars, to stop our plaques, to repair our equipment. We were like children. We hated them so much. We wished to be let alone."

"I understand," Mirsky said.

"This time, they did not ask me... Pavel." Using Mirsky's first name seemed to strain the old man. "They came and said I was needed.

They said I was a witness. They were like police in the old times." His voice rose. "How can they treat us so like children? We have sufferedl So many died."

"How have you suffered, Viktor? Tell me."

Lanier saw Mirsky's face become bland and accepting again, and a chill made him clench his jaw muscles. Mirsky put his arms on Garabedi-an's shoulders. "Tell me."

"Nothing is like it was," Garabedian said. "Nothing will ever be.

There is good and bad in that. It seems all my life I have been confused, having seen this, and then gone back to the villages where my forefathers lived. Having fought against the Hexamon, having lost . ."

,,yes?,,

Garabedian held up his hands. "We went into poisoned lands. The soil had become a serpent.' It bit us. We were taken out by Hexamon angels.

They apologized for not giving us new bodies. I could not go home.

There was nothing there. I moved into Armenia . . they call it North Anatolia now. No nations, they say. No factions. Only citizens. I farmed Page 308

and raised a family. They were killed in an earthquake."

Lanier felt the familiar sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. CouMn't save them all.

"I raised horses. I joined an Armenian cooperative for protection against the Turks. Then the Turks made peace, and together we fought

174 GREG BEAR

against immigrant Iranian farmers raising opium. The Hexamon came in

there, too, and pulled us out..

. Then they gave people something that

made the opium useless."

Mirsky looked at Lanier.

"Some sort of immune response, blockers . . ." Lanier said. He knew

very little about this aspect of the Recovery. Mirsky nodded.

"Go on."

"It has been a long life, Pavel. I have suffered and seen many die, but until now I have forgotten much of the pain. I see you, so young. It is Page 309

indeed you?"

"No," Mirsky said. "Not the same one you know. I've lived a much longer time than you, Viktor. I've seen much myself, triumph and failure.''

Garabedian smiled weakly, shaking his head. "I remember Sosnitsky.

He was a good man. I think often that we could have used him in Armenia . . . Me! An Armenian, thinking that about a White Russian! Everything has been turned upside down, Pavel, and it is still upside down. I hated the Turks, now I am married to a Turkish woman. She is small and brown and has long gray hair. She is not a city girl, not like my first wife, but she's given me a beautiful daughter. I'm a farmer now, growing special plants for the Hexamon."

Lanier thought of the Frant farmers on Timbl, the Frant homeworld, walking through their fields, growing biologically altered crops for export to the Way.

"Is it what you wanted?" Mirsky asked.

Garabedian shrugged, then smiled ironically. "It's a living," he said.

He grasped Mirsky's left hand in his and prodded him with a scarred finger. "You! You must tell me."

Mirsky looked at Lanier with a sheepish expression. "This time I'll tell it in words," he said. "Garry, you must go back to the others now.

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Viktor, tell Ser Lanier. Am I Pavel Mirsky?"

"You say you are not exactly him," Garabedian said. "But I think you

are. Yes, Ser Lanier. This is Pavel."

"Tell the president."

"I will," Garry said.

Mirsky smiled broadly. "Now sit, Viktor, because I doubt that you will believe what has happened to this Ukrainian city boy . . ."