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sessions which every man； woman； and child was allowed to bring。 You could take anything at all： books； software； teddy bears； clean socks。 Whiskey； or psychedelics。 Whatever might get you through the next ten or twenty or forty years sealed twenty…one hundred feet inside the earth。 For as long as Miranda had been here； the contents of one's tenner were a subject of conversation； gossip； even jokes。 Your choices weren't simply a matter of taste。 They reflected what kind of human being you were。 Grave goods； Nathan Lee had called them。 Relics that people took into the next world。
Each neighborhood and mesa finger had its own boarding sites。 The passengers waited politely for their transportation； stamping in the cold。 The clear mountain air was fouled by diesel fumes as sixteen…and eighteen…wheelers backed up to the docks。 The trailers were sheathed in triple…layers of black quarter…inch rubber membrane normally used for roofing。 Every rivet was epoxy sealed。 The cabs were armored against guerrilla attacks； the windshields bullet…proofed。 The drivers wore moon suits。 The vehicles looked more like submarines than Peterbilts。
Straps hung from the ceiling like meat hooks。 There were no windows； no seats； no snack bars。 It was going to be standing room only for the next twelve or twenty or thirty hours。 Soldiers piled their tenners in growing mountains to one side。
At one depot after another； people called out to Miranda。 〃You can e in our truck；〃 they offered。 Everyone wanted her with them。
〃I'm staying；〃 she said。
They were appalled。 〃But you can't。 It's too late for that。〃
〃It's just beginning；〃 she assured them。 She didn't ask anyone to stay。 They were afraid。 The bomb had spoken to their mortality。 So far Miranda had heard no one speak about it out loud； the holocaust her father had unleashed。 You could see it in their eyes； though。 This was final。 No atheists in the foxholes； she thought。 All the brave talk of drawing a line in the sand； holding the fort； making a stand。。。gone。 She didn't blame them。 They simply hadn't known their hearts before。 Now they did。
A woman approached her。 〃How can we leave you？ e with us；〃 she said。 〃Think about it。 You'll be all alone。〃
Miranda smiled。 That surprised her。 She could smile。
〃We'll remember you；〃 the woman said； backing away。
〃Thank you；〃 said Miranda。
Several times she overheard Nathan Lee's name。 They linked her to him and watched her pass among them with pitying eyes。 In their minds she was the tragic widow。Is that all this is？ she asked herself。 Aromantic suicide？ She rejected her doubt。 It was more。 It had to be。 Her grand idea had e to envelop her。 She had set it in motion； and now she'd bee its passenger。 It was carrying her along。 But also it wasn't carrying her at all。 She had already reached her destination。
Every light in every room and along every street had been left on。 It was as if the city wanted to guarantee that not even a shadow might be left behind。 The bright lights made it hard to see any constellations between the clouds。 They wanted one last taste of the stars。 When the clouds parted to show Mars； a great cheer went up。 Every child was raised on shoulders to memorize the sight。
Quickly； within a half hour； the convoy was loaded。
The earthmovers set off first to clean the blistered highways of debris。 There would be no snow down in the valley； Miranda realized。 The bomb would have melted every trace of it for miles。 There would be minimal to zero damage to the highway itself； no blast crater。 It would be more like the aftermath of a typhoon。 The generals knew their business。
Gunships pounced up； flanking the vanguard。 At last the hundreds of trucks started to unwind from Los Alamos； one behind another； ing together into a single black snake that glided off into the depths。 As she started back to Alpha Lab； the convoy passed her going the opposite direction。
It took less than an hour to empty the city。 Silence rushed in。 She watched from the doorway and Los Alamos looked like a kingdom of ice； motionless； its radiance sharp and clean。 After a while； the dogs started barking to each other。
MIRANDA WAS NOT QUITE SUREwhat came next； and so she decided to make herself a cup of hot chocolate。 She didn't particularly like hot chocolate。 But she felt cold； and it was a wintry night。 Hot chocolate sounded nice。
As she made her way through the building； the lab was alive。 puter screens glowed in darkened rooms。 Machinery hummed。 The smell of burned coffee and microwave popcorn drifted through the air ducts。 The PCR robots were still at work； automatically stamping out more and more copies of DNA fragments。 A centrifuge was whirling a blood sample in infinite orbit。 This was her inheritance。
Descending to C floor； she went to the small kitchenette and put a pot of water on the oven plate。 She rooted through the cabinet and found the packets of chocolate； and took her time cleaning a mug。 The simple tasks let her not think too much。
She felt sleepless and dazed and guilt…ridden。 The world seemed vile。 With each passing minute； it was increasingly clear that the nuclear slaughter had been a gift。 In one stroke； it had scraped the valley clean； incinerating not only their enemy； but the immediate threat of plague。 She was thankful； but did not want to be。
She placed her cellphone on the table beside the mug； trying to decide when to call her father。 She wanted to punish him。 Before the convoy reached the WIPP sanctuary； she wanted to tell him herself that she had disowned him forever。 It seemed like a first step。 His atrocity was not her reason for staying； but she would make it sound that way。 It was important that he understand the gulf between them。 She wanted to hate him。 She wanted to weep。 She wanted to quit thinking about it。
Her blood sugar spiked with the hot chocolate。 Miranda wiped her nose； raised her chin； and reached for the phone。 Time to bear him the bad news。 Let him reap what he had sown。 She braced herself and pressed the key。
Searching for service；the window read。 That was odd。 Their cellphones normally worked without a hitch； even four stories beneath the surface。 She went to one of the regular phones； and there was a dial tone。 She dialed her father's number； only to get a recorded voice：All lines are temporarily busy； please try your call again。How could the lines be busy； though？ There was no one left。
For the next few minutes she experimented with the phone system。 Calls worked within Los Alamos。 She reached a half dozen answering machines and listened to the voices of people she would never see again。 It was the long distance service that was down。 At a satellite recon booth； she paused to check the convoy's status。 Expecting a long chain of thermal images； she found instead。。。nothing。 The screens were all static。 Finally it occurred to her。 The lines were fried。 The transceivers and microwave stations and cell towers had been scrambled by the bomb's electromagnetic pulse。 The satellites were blinded。 She was more alone than she'd known。
Her isolation came flooding in。 She hadn't really thought about it； but now it was obvious she'd counted on some form of munication with th