We have all lost so much. All but two members of my birth family died in the Pandemic; the close quarters forced on all of us by the fuel shortages were the perfect staging grounds for the destruction of four generations in less than three weeks. I was able to bring my niece and nephew to England, and I hope that they feel I was as nurturing an aunt as you tell me your stepmother was to you. Certainly I could not love them more if they carried my DNA rather than that of my brother and sister, and they were a comfort and distraction after so many deaths -- not only my husband, but the dear friends who supported our move, and my daughter-in-law's first child.

Our family left England for Scotland not long after the Dissolution; my UK citizenship was about to be rescinded, lost in the death spasms of the Brown government. They were already facing public revolt after the discovery that influenza medication was being redirected to wealthy families; once word leaked that these same families were paying poor youth to take their children's place in the National Service corpse collection and disposal units -- which had a 60% attrition rate, as even the best protective gear wears out -- the riots were inevitable; perhaps they thought throwing naturalized citizens to the wolves would win them a reprieve. It was not a time of clear thinking or civic responsibility on the part of the government, which is rather what got us into this state . . . .

Scotland was encouraging immigration even before the First Shock; anyone with any sort of degree was welcome, in light of their own losses to the Pandemic, which is how I found myself teaching at the University: that I am now the Head of the School is, I fear, a testament to my colleagues' skill at avoiding administrative responsibility rather than any particular suitability for the post.

David has also found himself teaching, but at the University of Glasgow, in their veterinary sciences school; we share a home still, midway between the campuses, and mornings will find us on the trams heading in opposite directions. Mornings are quite lively, as he and Emily took the government's incentive programme to heart and have four children: getting all of us out the door on time and in good order is a daily adventure! River, my niece, has also married and has two children of her own; my nephew John is still at school.

From what I have read on the 'Nets, it sounds as if you have your own stories to tell. The news from the United States has been sporadic since the Third Shock, and I am ashamed to admit that after your mother's death and that of my family, I had little interest in what became of the country of my birth once River and John were safely out of it. So many of us had shouted ourselves hoarse trying to make those around us see what was coming; we were heartbroken and exhausted, and had our own losses from which to recover . . . .

Perhaps we should have tried harder. Perhaps we would, if given the chance to replay those days.

In any event, I should love to see you if you did come through Paisley on your way to Amsterdam; travel between Canada and Scotland is relatively pleasant by sea, and there is still time to make the crossing before the worst of the winter weather begins. Do let me know your plans; your stepmother should feel free to contact me as needed to arrange a meeting.

Kind regards,

Lucy Stewart