Kage Baker - Her Father's Eyes

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Her Father's Eyes

Kage Baker

Asimov's (2002-12)

It was so long ago that fathers were still gaunt from the war, their awful scars still livid; so long ago that

mothers wore frocks, made fancy Jell-O desserts in ring molds. And that summer, there was enough

money to go for a trip on the train. She was taken along because she had been so sick she had almost

died, so it was a reward for surviving.

She was hurried along between her parents, holding their hands, won-dering what a dome coach

was and why it was supposed to be special. Then there was a gap in the sea of adult legs, and the high

silver cars of the train shone out at her. She stared up at the row of windows in the coach roof, and

thought it looked like the cockpits in the bombers her father was always pointing out.

Inside it was nicer, and much bigger, and there was no possible way any German or Japanese fighter

pilots could spray the passengers with bullets; so she settled into the seat she had all for herself. There

she watched the people moving down on the platform, until the train pulled out of the sta-tion.

Then her parents exclaimed, and told her to look out the wonderful dome windows at the scenery.

That was interesting for a while, especially the sight of the highway far down there with its Oldsmobiles

and DeSotos float-ing along in eerie silence, and then, as they moved out into the country, the occasional

field with a real horse or cow.

The change in her parents was more interesting. Out of uniform her fa-ther looked younger, was

neither gloomy nor sarcastic but raucously happy. All dressed up, her mother was today as serene and

cheerful as a housewife in a magazine advertisement. They held hands, like newlyweds, cried out in

rapture at each change in the landscape, and told her repeatedly what a lucky little girl she was, to get to

ride in a dome coach.

She had to admit they seemed to be right, though her gaze kept tracking nervously to the blue sky

framed by the dome, expecting any minute steeply banking wings there, fire or smoke. How could people

turn on happiness like a tap, and pretend the world was a bright and shiny place when they knew it

wasn't at all?

The candy butcher came up the aisle, and her father bought her a bag of mint jellies. She didn't like

mint jellies but ate them anyway, amazed at his good mood. Then her mother took her down the car to

wash the sugar from her face and hands, and the tiny steel lavatory astonished and fascinated her.

From time to time the train stopped in strange towns to let people off or on. Old neon signs winked

from brick hotels, and pointed forests like Christ-mas trees ran along the crests of hills, stood black

against the skyline. The sun set round and red. While it still lit the undersides of the clouds, her par-ents

took her down to the dining car.

What silent terror, at the roaring spaces between the cars where anyone might fall out and die

instantly; and people sat in the long room beyond, and sipped coffee and ate breaded veal cutlets as

calmly as though there were no yawning gulf rushing along under them. She watched the diners in awe,

and pushed the green peas round and round the margin of her plate, while her parents were chatting

together so happily they didn't even scold her.

When they climbed the narrow steel stair again, night had fallen. The whole of the coach had the

half-lit gloom of an aquarium, and stars burned down through the glass. She was led through little islands

of light, back to her seat. Taking her place again she saw that there were now people occu-pying the

seats across the aisle, that had been vacant before.

The man and the lady looked as though they had stepped out of the movies, so elegant they were.

The lady wore a white fur coat, had perfect red nails; the man wore a long coat, with a silk scarf around

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Kage Baker - Her Father's Eyes

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