Excerpt from Chapter 7

They walked for a while in silence, and then finally stopped and sat on a bench in a small square with a dead fountain in its center, a few windows lit in the buildings that surrounded it but most of them dark. The young man put his arm around Sophia’s shoulders and they both looked up at the moon where she hung in the sky, distant and cool and serene.
We’ve been looking up at her for as long as we’ve had eyes, said Sophia, The moon, she’s been called so many different things by so many different people, strange to think that she’s still there, the same as always, looking down at us with light borrowed from the sun, watching our planet as we disappear, the same as she was ten thousand years ago, or a hundred thousand, when we’re all gone, when there’s nothing left but these empty buildings and dust and abandoned dogs, she’ll look down at us still, will look down at the earth and things will continue to grow and die and live and evolve as if we had never been.
Why, asked Peter, why is this happening to us. Sophia didn’t answer, because she sensed that it wasn’t really a question, not in the same manner that it had been during the beginning, the first few months when people had demanded explanations. No, this was an accusation against the dark, against the sky and the moon, this was anger presented to the world, to the universe, to God if he was listening. What did we do, all of us, what did we do to deserve this, this pain, this misery, were we really so bad, all of us, were so many of us so wicked that even the good ones amongst us deserved to go?