“I can do it,” replied Yuri stoically. “But I will need other men.”

  “Are you going to ask around to see who can join you?”

  “You ask them,” he replied.

  “I can say that Yuri needs help, if you like?” said Bull.

  “Not ‘needs help’. Wants more men. Say it like that.”

  “Ok,” said Bull. “But why would that motivate anyone to come and work with you? Would you respond to a request like that?”

  Too egoistic to turn down the chance to earn admiration, but too proud to recruit help to get the job done, Yuri wavered before breaking.

  “Fine, I won’t do it. I don’t fucking care, anyway.”

  “So you won’t finish the barn?” said Bull.

  Yuri hesitated again. He wanted respect and the barn would be a symbol of his authority.

  “Ok, I’ll do it, but I’ll do it myself.”

  “You do what you feel is best,” Bull said patiently.

  Bull left Yuri standing near one of the doors, too daunted by the size of the job to look inside again. Yuri knew he would need to fell several trees for timber to build the floor but didn’t have much clue how to proceed with the project after that. He’d lied to the other men about his ability, not realising the scale of what was required.

  Yuri hadn’t been handy with tools in the Previous Age, preferring to use his money to pay people to do things for him. However, he’d always felt there were basic things about saws and hammers that, as a man, he should know. He had already discovered a large storeroom full of all sorts of tools, and he headed there now to see what was available.

  He was surprised to find another man already there. The man nodded at him and went back to scanning the walls where the tools were hanging.

  Yuri felt self-conscious having company, as he was aware he didn’t know what he needed. He was further vexed to see the man reach out and with both hands lift down the biggest saw from the wall.

  “You ok?” the man asked Yuri, as he turned to go

  “I’m ok,” Yuri replied curtly, but then, before he had time to overthink it, he added, “What are you going to use that saw for?”

  “Cutting down trees. I’m going to make some furniture.”

  “Ok, that’s… good.” Yuri searched for a response, wanting to be agreeable without appearing too interested.

  The man smiled.

  “I’m Angush,” he said and held out a hand.

  Yuri swung his hand into the man’s and clenched it tight. Angush didn’t seek to match his grip, which made Yuri feel rather foolish.

  “Would you like a hand with the trees?” Yuri surprised himself with the question.

  Angush smiled and made a brief bow. “I would very much appreciate that.”

  Fran: New Neighbours

  There was nothing to object to, and Fran knew it. The village always looked beautiful, and even though some people let their front gardens become overgrown, the wildflowers and long grass were a mass of fragrant colour that attracted a multitude of bees and butterflies. Yet Fran still felt a grumbling irritation with life and the need to kick against anything she could. Anger and cynicism formed the lens through which she viewed the world, although some days she glimpsed the possibility of a different perspective if she could just bring herself to choose it.

  Fran finished her nettle tea and looked down into the mug.

  “I just find her rather intimidating.”

  “How about your other new neighbours? Have you talked to them at all?” replied Carlos from across the kitchen table.

  “I haven’t. I don’t miss the old lot, but I’m not too keen on these new folk either. There are all sorts out there.”

  “Yes, they come from many different backgrounds and cultures. Why not try just saying hello?”

  “Ok,” said Fran reluctantly. “Maybe I need to get over how this particular woman looks. It’s just that I’ve never met someone who shaves her head and wears clothes like that. I mean, we had Asians in our neighbourhood, but at least they came from the British Empire. Not that we mixed with them.”

  “That may be true, but people’s appearance is just the surface level.”

  That evening, after Carlos had left, Fran decided to go for a walk around the village. As she was nearing the end of the row of cottages, she saw the woman with the shaven head and full-length robes collecting apples and plums from the fruit trees. Fran hesitated but decided to approach her. The woman looked up and put down her basket.

  “Good evening,” she said softly.

  “Hello,” Fran replied in like manner, remaining at a distance.

  “Won’t you come and gather with me?” asked the woman.

  Fran drew nearer, but stopped after a few steps. She felt apprehensive and somewhat embarrassed.

  “My name is Chesa,” said the woman, who had not broken eye contact with Fran since noticing her.

  “I’m Fran. I live just down… well… of course I live right here… in the village. I was in a similar village before. I’m just… trying to adjust to the new setting.

  Fran stopped, realising she was talking too fast.

  “I have come from a Buddhist community to this place.”

  “Oh, I see. Have you met Sylvia and Carlos? They’re annoying, but everyone can get on people’s nerves sometimes. I mean we’re all here and we’re never going to die, so I guess we all have to get used to each other sooner or later…”

  Fran wanted to kick herself for talking so much.

  “How are you feeling?” asked the woman. Fran found her question a little strange.

  “I think I’m well, thank you,” she said politely. “How are you?”

  “I am looking forward to eating these,” she replied.

  “Of course, that’s why you’re here in the orchard. It’s funny, isn’t it? I mean, we don’t die if we don’t eat, but food here tastes good, so it’s like…”

  Chesa picked up her basket and beckoned warmly for Fran to follow her.

  “And where are you from?”

  “I’m from London in England. Twentieth century. How about you?”

  “I come from the eighteenth century, from a country you would know as Tibet. We met English missionaries who taught us your language. We welcomed foreigners to our monastery. We learnt many languages from those who stayed with us and much about the different religions.”

  Fran recalled how she had felt toward ‘foreigners’ in the Previous Age. A Bangladeshi family had moved in across the road from them in the 1960s, and she felt a sudden rush of shame as she remembered how she had called them names behind their backs and how white children had thrown stones at them.

  “Well, it’s certainly strange that we’re all here together now, isn’t it?” she said, trying to change the subject.

  “Yes, I wasn’t sure what to expect after death, but our traditions taught us to focus on the inner self and to pursue that which is holy and pure. We certainly came to believe that the divine nature was bringing us towards love and light, as we often experienced this in our meditations. How about you? Were you a Christian there in England?”

  “Yes of course,” replied Fran abruptly. “I was a warden for several years at my church. I did the flowers every other week as well.”

  “I’m sorry, maybe I asked the question the wrong way,” replied Chesa. “Did you follow Jesus there in England?”

  “Well, I thought I did. Then I died and met Jesus, and now I’m very confused. I have to admit I don’t like him that much after all. Turns out I was rather mistaken with what I thought. That’s why I’m here, and I guess that’s the same for you.”

  “Yes, the same. It’s the same for all,” said Chesa. “There is much to learn. You... me... much to learn.”

  “Well, do you know what? I’d like to teach God a few things too.” Fran gave vent to the feelings of irritation and annoyance that were always simmering below the surface.

  Chesa didn’t answer, but continued to walk slowly, looking at the ground.

  “I’ve just remembered, I need to go and sort something out at my cottage.”

  “Yes,” said Chesa without looking up.

  “Yeah… sorry. Maybe another time?”

  “Goodbye, Fran.”

  Fran pulled away, not looking back to see Chesa wave goodbye.

  “Smart-arse!” she muttered to herself. “I don’t need another bloody guru.”

  Enjoying the Eternal City

  A cheer erupted around the stadium.

  Bull punched the air with one fist and flung his other arm around Harmony’s neck. Harmony had never been to a football game before and wasn’t sure of all the rules, but she was revelling in the unbridled enthusiasm on display.

  Teams were organised on an ad-hoc basis with those who had signed up choosing a coloured shirt when they arrived. Matches were always enjoyed by both the players and the crowd, many of whom came several nights a week to watch the game and spend time with friends. Women and men played together, their resurrection bodies of equal strength and ability.

  Jesus had overseen the development of each village, small town and city area, he had included architectural ideas from the wide range of human civilisations across history. Structures were mainly grouped together with others of a similar style with the natural environment complementing the buildings and often intertwining with them to create unique new dwellings. More akin to a country than a city, the Eternal City sprawled across the New Earth in such a way that no one could quite comprehend its vast expanse.

  There were angels everywhere, fun and sometimes mischievous, regularly making people laugh. Unlike the image that had been prevalent in the Previous Age, angels were not always dressed in white robes with feathered wings protruding from their backs. Most usually chose to wear ordinary, practical clothes, but they were identified by a sash across their chests.

  Many of the inhabitants of the City had suffered terribly in the Previous Age but had followed Ruach’s leading through their trials. Some had been faithful followers of Jesus’ teaching as it echoed through the centuries, while others had not heard his name but had responded to the call of agape love within their hearts.

  Each community in the City contained centres of learning with large and spacious classrooms where people could learn about other cultures, languages and customs. This greatly helped them to serve in the many different communities on the New Earth beyond the City’s walls. People from every tribe and nation offered classes where their experience and insights were passed on. Classes were places where friendships and laughter were shared and deeply healing discussions could take place.

  Music echoed down many of the streets and could be heard from open doorways, parks and gardens. There was a place for every kind of music to be performed, from Dixieland jazz to chamber string quartets, and from hip-hop beats to Gregorian chants. People played instruments for pleasure in their dwellings, while others danced and moved to the rhythms they could hear.

  Culinary aromas wafted along the streets of urban areas. Cuisine from every age and from all around the world was being prepared constantly, but with succulent plant-based versions where meat had once been used. Animals were no longer killed for food, and food was no longer eaten for survival. Eating was for pleasure, social interaction and sheer exploration of flavour.

  As a young boy, Bull had once visited a five-star hotel with his grandparents. During their brief stay, he had marvelled at the incredible choice of dishes laid out in the buffet. He had wanted to try everything! His experience of the Eternal City had reignited and enhanced this sense of childish wonder and excitement.

  Bull and Harmony were enjoying the buzz created by the sights and smells of the food stalls that lined the street as they walked back to their dwellings after the game had finished.

  “Wow, these smell incredible – shall we get some?” Bull suggested as they stopped in front of a stall where steaming hot food was being prepared.

  “Jerk wrap? Burritos?” asked the man behind the stall.

  “Oh, I love that jerk marinade. Want one, Harmony?”

  “I’ve never tried it, but I’ll give it a go.”

  “How much?” asked Bull.

  “One talent each,” said the man with a sunny grin. “Best jerk in the City!”

  With experienced hands, the man assembled two jerk wraps and handed them to Bull and Harmony, wrapped in large green leaves.

  “Probably the only jerk in the City, right?” asked Bull.

  “No. There’s a brother the other side of the river with a jerk stall. He’s amazing, but I like to think my recipe has just the edge,” the man said proudly, handing Bull and Harmony some napkins.

  “Thanks, mate,” said Bull. “Where are you from?”

  “Trinidad, twenty-first century. I came to the Eternal City at the beginning of this jubilee.”

  “Welcome home!” said Harmony.

  “Sure is home! Jesus said I was ready and I’m so happy to be here.”

  “Where were you before? Which community?”

  The man smiled. “When I was resurrected Jesus placed me in a community of former street children, all from the West Indies. We all knew how tough it was to grow up fending for ourselves.”

  “And you got here after just one jubilee?”

  “Yes. As soon as I was raised, I knew Ruach was asking me to serve my new community by cooking for them. Back in Trinidad I’d used chicken and pork, but I discovered new plant-based recipes and opened a kitchen where I could train other people too.”

  “That’s beautiful to hear, and this is truly delicious,” said Harmony.

  “I knew Ruach when I was on the streets in the Previous Age. I knew her as a warming presence in my chest that I could feel but couldn’t see. Sometimes she felt like a strong emotion, and other times like an idea in my mind that somehow seemed to light up the way ahead. I knew she kept me from taking the wrong path and from doing harm to others, even though violence sometimes looked like the easiest way to get through.”

  “So, you could feel her guidance?” asked Bull.

  “Yeah, I sure did. Every day. My mother told me about her and how I should listen to her voice before she died when I was seven.”

  “What’s your name?” asked Harmony.

  “Eddie,” replied the man with a broad grin.

  “Great to meet you, Eddie,” said Harmony. “You’ve given us much hope for those in our communities today.”

  “It’s so good to be reminded that there are people who are ready to enter the City, even after just one jubilee,” said Bull as he and Harmony continued along the street, finishing off their tasty snack. “By the way, what time are we meeting Yvonne?”

  “Oh, that’s right. There’s a composer giving a recital of a new work that Yvonne wanted to hear.”

  The two friends made their way through the City, taking time to enjoy and take in the various sights with dancing water features, huge rockeries full of flowers in bloom and avenues of ornamental trees. The atmosphere was peaceful in one area and full of mirth and merriment in another, yet everywhere felt friendly and welcoming.

  *

  The recital ended in a thrilling crescendo of sound. The audience sat for a moment, enraptured, before everyone rose to their feet and applauded with huge enthusiasm.

  “I’ve never heard anything like that before,” said Bull, shaking his head in wonder.

  “It’s certainly been worth the long wait for a new work,” said Yvonne, beaming at him as they continued to applaud the composer, who was gesturing for his orchestra to stand once again, showing them off with pride to the auditorium.

  “One day I’ll take you to hear some rock and roll,” said Harmony. “You’ll love Elvis!”

  “Oh, I do love Elvis!” shouted Bull over the thunderous applause. “My dad used to play Elvis in the car when I was a boy. I wonder if he’s here yet?”

  “One day everyone will be here,” laughed Harmony.

  After the concert, the three of them walked back to their rooms animatedly discussing the genres of music they each preferred and making the very most of their last evening in the City before returning to their communities.

  Johan: Confrontation

  Night was different on the New Earth. Colours still appeared and slowly evolved in the sky, but they were darker tones of purple and blue. The air was still, and Johan was glad that the temperature always remained at a comfortable level, even at night. Far off, unknown lights twinkled, but Johan felt completely alone.

  He wasn’t scared, as he knew the New Earth was safe, but there was a bleakness in his heart. Chester’s words echoed in his mind as he strode out over rocks and heather in the half light. He felt shame and confusion over what he had learned from the Canadian, and he struggled to understand why Jesus would allow people who had been at war with one another in the Previous Age to be in the same community.

  He cast his mind back to when billowing scarlet flags had hung from every house, a black swastika within a white circle adorning each one. As a boy, the swastika had reminded him of a squashed spider, and it had struck him as oddly fitting now that he knew that the twisted Nazi fantasy had been stamped out by the boots of the Allies. He remembered his Uncle Werner, a fanatical Nazi supporter, and how he had encouraged Johan to look up to the Fuhrer and, when he was old enough, to go and fight for the Reich.

  He recalled the many nights he had spent in barracks, trenches and under canvas. He would lie awake listening to the other men talking, thinking about Uncle Werner and hoping he would be proud of his soldier nephew. Johan’s mind would often turn to his own father, a very different man of quiet thought, who only spoke when he had something to say. Johan’s father had fought in the Great War twenty years earlier and had seen action on the Western Front. Johan adored his papa very much and when he was small had loved to sit on his lap and trace his fingers along the strange pink scars on his arm that were a permanent reminder of the shrapnel that had torn his flesh.

  Johan longed for his papa to come and find him now. Looking out from a hilltop over the landscape, he felt as if he was the only person in existence. But at that moment a movement in the heather behind him made him swing around, and in the low light he could just make out the figure of a man with long white hair and a beard in a pale robe that reached to the ground. The man was looking at Johan and holding up both hands as if in surrender.