“No, now. She means — well, gay,” Harry said. “Are younhomosexual?”n”To me sex, the Divine Nimbus, every creature exhalesnand I partake willingly, my soul gladly joining, my bodynlocked in embrace with All, my — “n”All?” Henry and Lydie spoke in unison.nWordmore nodded. “All, yes. All, sportively I tendernmy — “n”Does this include the bullfrog and the termite?” Harrynasked.n”Yes,” Wordmore said without hesitation. “Why shouldnevery creature not enjoy my manliness? Whole and hearty Inam Wade Wordmore, American, liking the termite equallynwith the — “n”Wade, my friend,” Harry said. “You old-time fellowsnsure do give us modern people something to think about. I’dnlike you to meet my congressman and give him the benefitnof some of your ideas. Tomorrow I’m going to drive younover to the state capital and introduce you. How would younlike that?” He slipped Lydie a happy wink.n”The orators and statesmen are ever my camaradoes,”nWordmore said. “I descry them on the high platform, thenpennons of America in the wind around them flying, theirnlungs in-taking the air, and the words outpouring.”n”It’s a date then,” Harry said. “Pack your knapsack for anlong stay. I intend for you and him to become fast friends.”nBut when they arrived in Raleigh the next day and Harryndrove around toward Representative Collingwood’snheadquarters, he found the streets blocked with cars honkingnand banging fenders and redfaced policemen trying toncreate some sort of order and pattern. The sidewalks toonwere jammed with pedestrians, most of them dressed in thenuniform of the Army of the Confederate States of America.nSsssimssss.n”My God,” Harry said. He could not have imagined thatnso many people had subscribed to the Ancestor Program,nthat so many simulacra had been produced. Looking at thenpeople who were obviously not sims, he saw written on theirnfaces weariness, exasperation, sorrow, horror, guilt, andncruel determination — all the feelings he and Lydie hadnexperienced for the past weeks, the feelings he now feltnpiercingly with Wordmore sitting beside him, babbling onnabout the Beautiful Traffic Tangles of America.nFinally a channel opened and he rolled forward, to benstopped by a tired-looking policeman.nHarry thumbed his window down and the officer leanednin.n”May I see who is with you, sir?” he asked.n”This is Wade Wordmore,” Harry said. “You’d find itnhard to understand how glad he is to meet you.”n26/CHRONICLESnnn”I am Wade Wordmore,” said the graybeard, “and glad ofnyour company, admiring much the constable as he goes hisnrounds — “n”Well, I’m glad you like company,” the policeman said.n”You’re going to have plenty of it.” He turned his blearedngaze on Harry. “We’re shifting all the traffic to the footballnstadium parking lot, sir, and we’re asking everyone to escortntheir ancestors onto the field.”n”Is everybody bringing them in?” Harry asked.n”Yes sir, almost everyone. It seems like everybody ran outnof patience at the same time. They’ve been coming in likenthis for three days now.”n”I can believe it,” Harry said. “What is the HistorynDivision going to do with them all?”n”There is no longer a History Division,” the policemannsaid. “In fact, we just got word a while ago that thengovernment has shut down the whole Reality Department.”n”They shut down Reality? Why did they do that?”n”They took a poll,” the policeman replied. “Nobodynwanted it.”n”Good Lord,” Harry said. “What is going to happen?”n”I don’t know, sir, but I’m afraid I’ll’ have to ask you tonmove along.”n”Okay, all right,” Harry said. He drove on a few feet,nthen stopped and called back: “I’ve got an idea. Why don’tnwe ship all these sims north to the Union states? After all,nthey’re the ones who killed them in the first place.”n”I’m afraid that those states have the same problem wendo,” the policeman said. “Please, sir, do move along. Therenwill be someone at the stadium to give you instructions.”n”Okay. Thanks.” He rolled the window up and edged thencar forward.nWordmore had fallen silent, looking in openmouthednwonder at all the cars and the Confederate soldiers streamingnby and mothers and children white-faced and weepingnand dogs barking and policemen signaling and blowingnwhistles.n”You know,” Harry said, “I just never thought about thenYankees wanting to meet their ancestors, but of course theynwould. It’s a natural curiosity. I guess it must have seemednlike a good idea to bring all this history back to life, but nownlook. What are we going to do now?” The station wagon innfront of him moved and Harry inched forward.n”The history of the natiori I see instantly before me, as onna plain rolling to the mountains majestic, like a river rolling,nthe beautiful young men in their uniforms with faces scarcenfuzzed with beard — “nBut Harry was not listening. His hands tightened on thensteering wheel till the knuckles went purple and white. “MynGod,” he said. “We’ve got all our soldiers back again andnthe Yankees have got theirs back. War is inevitable. I believenwe’re going to fight the whole Civil War over again. I’ll bendamned if I don’t.”n” — the beautiful young men falling in battle amid smokenof cannon and the sky louring over, the mothers weeping atnnight and the sweethearts weeping — “n”Oh, shut up, Wordmore. I know how terrible it is. It’sntoo horrible to think about.” He remembered LieutenantnAldershot and Private Harper and a gritty tight wry littlensmile crossed his face. “Bluebellies,” Harry said. “This timenwe’ll show them.” <£>n