Chapter 1

Our Lady was an island, three miles long and half a mile wide. Lush vegetation grew everywhere, with a clear spring at the base of the central hill. Warm breezes blew year round. Nature provided fruit and fish. With just a bit of work it was easy to grow rice, sweet potatoes and vegetables. The real work of the residents was praising God.

There was only one contact with the outside world. Every year on the vernal equinox, a rowboat appeared from over the horizon. At the oars was a single woman, dressed in white. With her was a 3-year-old girl. The girl was delivered to the sisters of Our Lady and consecrated to God. After a brief ceremony, the woman dressed in white rowed back over the horizon. She never spoke.

The consecrated women and girls of Our Lady were because of this all one year apart in age. Eventually the older ones died. Occasionally a disease or an accident claimed the life of one of the younger ones. But the population of the island usually consisted of 70 or so females, aged 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ... with spaces becoming more the rule than the exception above the age of 60. There was no medicine -- God would claim them in His own good time. The older sisters delighted in the play of the little novices. They were not too strict with them, but prepared them gradually to assume their solemn duties as full sisters when they turned 14 years old.

Our Lady was the convent island of the Holy Innocence Church. Doctrine held that the way to a purer knowledge of Christ was knowing less of the ways of the secular world. They knew what the Church thought they ought to know to live the holiest life -- and no more. The sum of this knowledge was contained in the one Book of Innocence, mostly concerned with how God should be praised. They knew there existed a foundational book of Christian religions known as the Holy Bible, but they were only provided with a few excerpts of this book -- it had far more knowledge than was consistent with the holy life.

One excerpt from that book was that the two original people were Adam and Eve. They had eaten from the tree of knowledge against the wishes of God and had fallen. To reclaim paradise, the women of Our Lady were to be told only what God wanted his chosen to know -- in the best judgment of the Holy Innocence Church.

Eve was a woman, and Adam was a man. A man was another kind of human being, though they did not know in what way he differed. Children when created were destined to turn into either women or men, and the ones who turned into men were known as boys. This much they knew. In their spare time the novices and sisters occasionally shared fragmentary memories of the time before they came to the island. The Book of Innocence revealed that from the age of 18 months they had lived in a special Church facility. Some thought they remembered men, but the memories were very unclear. Some girls thought they had deep voices and never grew larger than a 10-year-old girl. Others thought they had scratchy faces and were very fat.

Barely visible on the horizon was another island. They knew it was called Our Savior and it was much like their island but populated with men and boys. The Book of Innocence expressly forbade them from leaving their island.

Our Lady was ruled by the Mother Superior, supported by the Council of Five Sisters. All the sisters and novices pledged obedience to the Mother Superior. In any dispute, her word was final. She designated her own successor and selected replacements for the members of the Council. However, sometimes age is not kind to the mind and judgment as any mortal ages, and the Council had the authority acting unanimously to remove the Mother from office and substitute another of the sisters -- who could not be one of the Council.

The Book of Innocence told them that the Mother Superior had a personal library in her private office in her residence, an office that no one but she ever entered. These books were a symbol of forbidden knowledge. Their presence was a temptation, and one burden of the office of Mother Superior was to resist the temptation of looking at them.

The original architects had designed the settlement of Our Lady to last. The buildings were all of imported stone set on deep foundations. There were storerooms with spare materials -- window glass, metal implements, rugged shoes, cloth, kitchen ware, and other small implements to support their simple life. The sisters prided themselves on how very slowly they drew on those supplies. The Book of Innocence promised that a larger boat with replacement supplies would arrive every 40 years. So far it had come just twice since the founding of the order.

And so the years had passed. The older sisters gradually grew older, grew frail, and died. But each year a new girl arrived in the rowboat, and in this way the circle of life continued.

But now not all was well. One year the rowboat had not come. The sisters prayed for order to be restored, trusting in God. But it had not come the next year either. Now, as February turned to March, the rowboat had not come for ten years. If it did not come again, the youngest of them, Kira, would become a full sister and there would be no novices. The supply boat had been due to make its third appearance four years earlier, but it had not come either.

There had been nine previous Mother Superiors, remembered by name in daily prayer. The current Mother Superior was firm that they must trust in God. If He intended them to die out, then that was His will. As others conversed in groups of two or three, some weren't sure this was the best course. Shouldn't they try to do something? They had no boats, and the Book of Innocence specifically decreed that they must not leave the island. But they knew rowboats existed and were possible. Perhaps they could fashion one from the materials they had at hand and make a voyage to Our Savior? They could find out if the boat to Our Savior had stopped coming too. They could share thoughts and ideas.

Julie, the one and only resident of the island who was 28, was one of the most vocal of this group. She found herself in heated discussion, arguing for action, for exploration. The order of their world had been broken, and surely it was permissible -- perhaps even required -- for them to be flexible themselves? Some of the other sisters reminded her that she was not being as humble and obedient as she should be. On two occasions the Mother Superior had accosted her and assigned her to do penance. The first time she was put in seclusion for three days. This time she had been in seclusion for two weeks, and she had no idea when or if she would be released. She prayed constantly for God's will to be done, trying to suppress her natural human desire to be free and rejoin the others. But as the Book of Innocence demanded, she strove to be slightly better than human. If God's will was for her to remain in seclusion for the rest of her life, she would try to accept it gracefully.

She awoke in the dark to the sound of footsteps outside on the path leading to her seclusion cell -- which was in a stone hut. She quickly rose and donned her habit. Then she realized it was not one set of footsteps, but several.

She heard the sound of the door being unlocked, and then a voice. "May we come in?"

"Of course," said Julie.

The first to enter was Sister Beatrice, followed by the other four members of the Council!

Surely this must be a very serious matter. Julie knelt and bowed her head. Hopefully she was not to be punished more harshly. There had been those screams from Sister Eleanor once after she had been in seclusion for a day. The rumor was that her offense had been touching Sister Anna in a way that she shouldn't.

"May the will of God be done," she said softly, with total conviction.

"You may rise, Sister Julie," said Beatrice.

When she had risen the six of them stood in a circle in the small hut -- there was but one small chair.

"Could you kindly tell us your thoughts on what Our Lady should do in light of the lacuna of the boats?"

She bowed her head and said, "I trust the judgment of the Mother Superior in all things. If I have said intemperate things in the past, it has been my sin. I have been praying constantly for greater guidance from Our Father. I dare to hope that I am making progress."

When she looked up, the others were smiling slightly.

"That is very good, Julie. The Lord would be pleased. Yet -- suppose the Mother Superior asked you honestly for your own opinion, laying aside anything she has said in the past on the subject, laying aside what any of the rest of us have said. What are your thoughts then?"

Julie was perplexed, fearing a trap. "Surely the Mother Superior would not turn for advice to one such as me, when there are so many more among you who are holier -- certainly including all of you of the Council!"

Sister Theresa spoke. "It's not a trap, Julie. I can see why you'd think that. We can promise you solemnly that no word of what we say here will ever reach the ears of the Mother Superior."

"But surely you wouldn't disobey the Mother Superior? You wouldn't keep a secret from her?"

The others smiled thinly.

"Think, Sister Julie," said Beatrice. "Think about the function of the Council. Think about our most important role in the order. Don't say anything, just think."

Julie thought, but she drew a blank.

Sister Rosa said, "Let's just say that when we report to the Mother Superior, it will not be to the person who before her elevation was known as Sister Catherine."

Julie's eyes opened wide. "But the Mother Superior ... She is not ill? Could this be God's will?"

The others shifted uneasily and looked away momentarily.

"The lacuna of the boats has changed things," said Beatrice. "It is with heavy hearts that we are nearly resolved to take this momentous step. So ... what do you think we ought to do?"

"Surely the new Mother Superior will know best? Or seek the counsel of those she trusts?"

"Ummm," said Beatrice. "Your opinions may influence who we choose to be the next Mother Superior."

Julie hesitated.

Rosa said, "Sister Julie, there are different ways we can fail in God's eyes. There is failure of obedience and there is the sin of pride. Another is timidness, an unwillingness to think with an open mind and say what you think when asked. This is what we ask of you now. Do not be timid."

Julie thought. If her opinions could guide who they selected for Mother Superior, that could be a very good thing. After a brief silent prayer, she began. "I think we ought to start building a boat -- it may take several tries -- and learn how to row it. I think a small delegation of volunteers should go over to Our Savior and take advantage of the knowledge of the monks to jointly chart the best course for Our Lady."

Sister Theresa said, "Is it possible that the best course is to remain here in prayer on Our Lady until we all in due time go to meet Our Father in heaven?"

Julie was overcome by feeling. "Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "If that is what the Lord wills, then that is what we ought to do." Suddenly embarrassed, she blushed and said, "Forgive me, I ... I will try to control myself."

Sister Beatrice smiled in kindly fashion. "What other ideas do you have?"

"I think the Mother Superior ought to look through her library. It's a temptation, yes, but that applied to a world which has vanished. Sometimes when faced with a choice, the only option is the lesser of two sins. Along with the unholy knowledge, there might be some ordinary knowledge we don't have, some useful information..." She continued sharing her ideas for a few more minutes.

Sister Beatrice raised her hand to stop her, then looked around at the other four from the Council. There were nods and smiles. Then she got down on her knees, took Julie's hand and kissed it. The others in turn all knelt and kissed her hand. Was this some sort of cruel joke?

"I pledge to you my loyalty and obedience, O Reverend Mother," said Beatrice.

"Me?" squeaked Julie. No one under the age of 50 had ever been Mother Superior. No one under age 38 had ever been on the Council.

The others took the same pledge.

"It is our best judgment of the will of the Lord," said Beatrice.

"Are you sure? Why?"

Sister Theresa said, "Uncertain times call for new thinking. For someone whose strong inclination is not to wait for our order to die out. Yet one who is also very holy."

The others nodded.

Julie reflected that some of the other sisters didn't seem to take their calling all that seriously. Julie sinned, but she felt genuine contrition and desperately wanted to be a better person and serve the Lord better.

"But ... But..."

Beatrice continued. "And now, may the Lord give me strength for what lies ahead. Follow us, Sister Julie."

The six of them then proceeded directly to the Mother Superior's residence, Julie bringing up the rear, her mind spinning.

When at last the sleepy Mother Superior opened the door, she looked out at the six of them on her porch. Julie stood behind the others, trying her best to be invisible.

"O Reverend Mother," said Sister Beatrice. "After deep contemplation, we the members of the Council --"

The Mother Superior drew back, eyebrows raised in astonishment. "No! No you don't! I am not senile! I have not strayed from the path!"

"I understand that is your conviction, but --"

"I forbid it! I will have you all put in seclusion! This is against the Way. It is against the will of our Lord. You are under the influence of the Devil."

The others looked down. But Beatrice stood her ground.

"I am sorry, Reverend Mother," she said at last. "I have served you to the best of my ability and obedience for six years. But in prayerful contemplation, the five of us feel it is God's will to take this unprecedented step."

"And who is this other person behind you? Is this your choice? The pretender?"

The others stood aside, and Julie could retain no pretense of invisibility.

"Her! Who authorized her removal from seclusion? My orders were very clear."

Beatrice sighed, then turned to Julie and gave her a warm smile. Then she fell to her knees and once again kissed her hand. The other four did so as well, and then all looked at the Mother Superior -- the former Mother Superior. They waited for her to do the same. But Sister Catherine stood with arms folded against her chest.

Julie looked at her, fighting back tears.

"What should we do, Reverend Mother?" asked Beatrice. "One of the sisters refuses to bow before the Mother Superior."

"Um..." said Julie, when she realized she was being addressed.

"Could I make a suggestion, Reverend Mother?" said Sister Theresa.

"Certainly, sister -- um ... Certainly, my child?"

"Perhaps a brief time in seclusion will help Sister Catherine to contemplate God's will."

"Yes," said Julie with relief. "Yes, I think that would be wise. See that it is done."

Sister Beatrice gently took the candle from the hands of the former Mother Superior and handed it to the new Mother Superior. As the others left to escort Sister Catherine to the cell Julie had occupied a few minutes before, Sister Rosa turned and said with a little smile, "Go on in -- it's your residence now."

Julie watched them go, then crossed the threshold into the Mother Superior's receiving room. Whenever she had entered this room before, it had been with fear and trepidation. Rarely were the younger sisters invited in, and it was never for a friendly chat. The room had three sofas and the ornate carved chair reserved for the Mother Superior.