epilogue

•

(years later)

Monarch butterflies are indigenous to North America but can thrive wherever the climate’s good and there’s plenty of milkweed to eat. They got introduced to Australia almost a century ago, where swan plant milkweed grows in abundance. Now they’re everywhere you look. We’re transplants ourselves. Having a picnic in the Royal Botanic Gardens. Just a short walk from the Opera House and the most pristine blue water you could ever ask for. Later we’re going into the outback in search of marsupials. Actually, the whole court try qualifies as outback — it’s yet to be repopulated. We have it all to ourselves.

Came Down Under on a whim. Hope’s whim. She liked her stuffed kangaroo so much, she wanted to know where it came from. She’s been hopping about like a kangaroo for hours, tugging at my arm to get me to stay on the lookout. Will do. Also I have to watch for koalas. She says they look grumpy and we have to cheer them up. Kids.

We make our own schedule now. I’d almost forgotten what that was like. I’ll admit I don’t know much about happy and well-adjusted children, but that’s what Hope seems to be. Endless curiosity, endless enthusiasm. Maybe a little cynicism. We told her she was the best kid in the world yesterday, and she rolled her eyes and replied, “That’s what every mom and dad says.” Ha. Subversive books. She reads anything and everything. That’s all Pan’s doing. Started her off on a good habit — the moment she could read to our daughter, she did. Now Hope reads to us. By the way, twenty-twenty vision, my Pandora. No migraine in years. Always amazes me how things can heal. Gaps in my memory won’t come back, but her green eyes look as brilliant as ever. And that’s the way I want it.

It’s funny. So many people wander through their lives never knowing why they’re here, but Pan and I, we found out. We were designed for a reason. To cure Black Ep and bring the human race back from the brink. Since birth — even before then — we’d had that responsibility hanging over our heads. We’ve felt the weight of that burden, had to carry it for years. But now it’s done. Whatever you want to call it

— our obligation, our life’s work, our destiny — it’s been fulfilled. We’re finally free. That’s a thorny word for me, free. I don’t know exactly what it means. My waking life tells me it’s about being able to do what I want. Having alternatives. The first of which is not selecting the one that closes all the others. Never have I felt less like wanting to die. But my dreams tell me the word means something else entirely…

We’ve made certain not to discuss it around Hope. If she has a dream on her own, we’ll have to keep an eye out. Until then, I’m seeing it as nothing more than stress and an overactive imagination. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to pop into the local observatory to see if the telescope still works. Ah, forget it. What would I look for anyway? If the Free do exist and they want to come, let them. I’ll deal with them then.

I don’t mean to be glib. Real contact with the Free would be a turning point for humanity. A defining moment. For good or ill, it would be the most significant event in our history. But how can I prove they’re real? In the face of an unknowable world, what can I really do?

Whoops, thought we had a koala sighting. False alarm. Hope’s yelling her head off and pulling us toward what I’m reasonably sure is a wombat. Not too close, Hope, those things bite. Well find koala soon enough.

Interesting claim about the koala. The eucalyptus leaves it likes to munch get it stoned out of its furry little mind. The junkie of the animal kingdom. Spends most of its time doing nothing but eating and resting. Which makes the psychotropic, calming effect of the eucalyptus a good thing because, cute as the koala is, it’s surprisingly aggressive by nature. Makes you wonder what would happen if the drug ever stopped working.

The thing about the patch is it only works for so long. The human body just isn’t meant to work that way. After a few years of bliss, people are finding the effects are starting to wear off. And after rising to such dizzying heights, slipping back down to the way things were before fills every patched man, woman and child with an unreasonable terror. Reality looms bleaker than ever before. Fantasia, Vashti and Tomi are holed up in Nymphenburg, feverishly working on a patch for the patch. They have a plan to compensate for the miscalculation. Unfortunately, time’s ticking fast. The demand for dopamine and oxytocin is spreading the world over. In the meantime people are using whatever they can find to take the edge off their pain. That means overdoses. The new way of life that so many have cleaved to is gradually being replaced with a need to get high at any cost. They ate from the apple and here comes the fall.

The Age of Compassion lasted not quite five years.

I try not to talk too much to the rest of the world, but the sense I’m getting is that things might be worse than they’ve ever been.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The first debt of thanks goes to my hardworking editors: Susan Allison and Jennifer Hershey at Putnam, and Simon Taylor at Trans-world (U.K.). Everfree has been enriched by their insight, patience and support.

I’m also grateful to Matthew Guma, Richard Pine, Lori Andiman, and everyone at InkWell Management.

David Koral copyedited the manuscript. Andrea Ho designed the U.S. edition jacket and Gretchen Achilles rendered the internal design.

Cheers to Andy Zawacki of the Cryonics Institute for taking time to answer my questions. While I’ve postulated a future where Black Ep sends the price of successful cryopreservation skyrocketing, the cost isn’t so prohibitive today. For more information, try www.cryonics.org. Pamela Ku provided a wealth of information about China and Chinese culture, and many members of the Cornell Thai Association wrote to answer my questions about Thailand. Special thanks to Tichakorn Wongpiromsarn and Matipon Tangmatitham.

Those of you who know how I write know how important music is to my creative process. I’m so happy to have an excerpt from “Scarred but Smarter” as the epigraph, as that song and “Fly Me Courageous” served as major inspirations for this trilogy. drivin’ n’ cryin’ is a terrific band, and I’m very grateful to front man Kevn Kinney.

Doselle Young and Janine Ellen Young went above and beyond for Everfree: tremendously charitable with their time, helping me see a path through the initial scenes when writer’s block had me spinning my wheels. Without their suggestions, I’d have spun for much longer. Deep thanks for getting me moving. Erik Baard took a look at the early pages and reassured me that I hadn’t gone mad. Very encouraging, and his notes proved valuable.

Walt McGraw’s insightful feedback helped flesh out New Cambridge and its inhabitants. He recommended I read The Natural History of the Rich, by Richard Conniff, which proved to be an excellent resource.

John Scalzi has this weird mutant power where I feel really positive about the writing process whenever I talk with him. That definitely helped.

Enormously constructive conversations with Christopher Wood about evolution and human nature helped sew up the Patchwork section.

Uncle Jerry read the first draft and sparked to it, giving me smart, avuncular counsel, for which I apparently now owe him a villa.

As always, Dave Parks gave incredible advice. He’s got great sensibilities, and I can’t say enough about how much I value his perspective.

Additional support, encouragement, assistance and/or inspiration sprang from Nick Bortman, Andrew Chaikin, Marilyn Clair, Damned If I Don’t Productions, Mike Dix, Harry Druyan, Les and Vicki Druyan, Jessica Flood, Chris Genoa, Brian Gilmore, Dan Gilmore, Dan Goldman, Rich Green, Sharon Greene, Guy Guthridge, Mozetta Hilliard, Jared Hoffman, Annah Hutchings, Nathan Jarvis, David Klein, Joanne Lamoureux, Louise Marley, Zack Marley, Joel McKuin, Maurice and Renee Minnis, Roger L. Payne, G. J. Pruss, Shayni Rae, Robby Ringer, Sam Sagan, Sasha Sagan, Shari Smiley, Martha Soukup, Jessica Wade and Lyall Watson.

Thanks are overdue to the late, great Roger Zelazny. His Amber series is wonderfully thought provoking, and I’ve no doubt that it served as a strong subconscious influence on these books. I’m grateful to the fans of my writing, and especially the ones who stopped by www.nicksagan.com and took the time out to send me a note. Writers often feel isolated, and your support goes a long way toward keeping those demons at bay.

I think the world of Ann Druyan, and am honored by her continued confidence in me. Thanks for everything, Annie.

Clinnette Minnis is one of the best writers I know, and it’s my great fortune to have her on my side. She’s lived and breathed this trilogy just as I have over the past four years, and her contributions to its success have been tremendous.

Linda Salzman Sagan has always encouraged me, both as a fellow writer and as my mother. She’s endlessly supportive, and I’m lucky to have her in my life. I hope she knows how much I love her. With deep affection, I remember the starlight conversations my father and I would have about the universe and those who inhabit it. From the time I was very young, he inspired me to look at the big picture and ask the kinds of questions that really matter. Who are we? Where are we going? Are we alone? What does it all mean? To a large extent, Everfree is a natural extension of those questions and the conversations we used to have. He was more of an optimist, and I a pessimist, and that tug of war informs these books. My sensibilities may be darker than most, but his sense of wonder is with me still. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

NICK SAGAN is the author of the novels Idlewild, Edenborn and Everfree. He is the son of astronomer Carl Sagan and artist/writer Linda Salzman. His greeting — “Hello from the children of planet Earth” — was recorded and placed aboard NASA’s Voyager I and Voyager II spacecraft, which are now the most distant human-made objects in the universe. The writer of numerous screenplays and television episodes, Sagan graduated summa cum laude from UCLA Film School. Visit his website at www.nicksagan.com.