rt, bitter laugh. "Now I
don't know who I am. Just don't call me Moses."

He said no more, and they slept.

*

"How could they do such a thing?" They sat again on opposite sides of
the table, drinking coffee and eating a meager breakfast. With the
night passed and the boy off playing, she hoped she would find him more
talkative.

"What, the great white hopefuls? Simple. There was no one to stop
them."

"But why? when they brought us here in the first place?" He chewed a
stale biscuit, and for a time did not answer.

"Don't ask me to explain the Minority Homestead Act. It was created by
another government, and would take a week."

"But the killing---"

"Every expansionist power needs a hate-group within its own boundaries,
someone to blame for their own fears and failures. Someone for the
violent but inexperienced to cut their teeth on. Hating the Jews is no
longer fashionable, and there aren't enough of them here. We were
obvious, so they picked us instead."

"Surely it's not that simple."

"Of course not," he said irritably. "We represented old fears and
religious prejudice, the 'mark of Cain' and all that brutal bullshit.
We still had money and pride when their debt-based economy crashed.....
This is pointless; figure it out for yourself. I don't want to know
their reasons, only what I can do about it." He fell silent, hard and
cold. She said no more.

At that moment the boy came running out of the back and climbed quickly
onto the bench beside her. Tears were in his eyes, and she put her arm
around him. He buried his head against her, peeped out at the man,
then buried it again.

"Look after him, will you? I'm going out for a while." The man rose,
switched off the shield and went to the entrance.

"Wait," she called after him. "I still don't know your name."

"My name is Lawrence." He was gone.

The boy drew back and looked up at her, no longer frightened but now
tired and curious.

"Well that's better. You don't have to be afraid of me." He looked at
her and chewed his finger. She returned his gaze and smiled. "What's
your name?"

"Johnny Harris." His leg kicked gently out over the side. She patted
him on the head, then went to look for some paper.

The man went down between the high walls of the gap, coming out at the
twin faces of the cliffs. Turning right, he skirted the huge southern
promontory till he came a scree hill, rising still higher toward the
fr