Roger Levy

Reckless Sleep

2000. Gollancz, 2001.

Besides the officiator, only two of them were at the top of Primrose Hill for the scattering, as far as Jon could make out...A small grey jar on a rickety folding table on the grass held the ashes. The rocket with its black bulbous nose lay beside it, with a slender plastic tail and a stubby twist of purple touch paper. The other fireworks were in a box on the ground. "The scattering of Marcus Lees," the officiator announced, facing the hill's long downward slope into darkness

Jon has come to the funeral of a Far Warrior, a fellow veteran of a failed attempt at space colonization; in an England subject to daily seismic tremors, burial is no longer an option. Fireworks are part of the new ritual: the first one a spectacular display of colour followed by the pronouncement, "So we hope to be"; the second a more sombre affair, "So we are". Finally the rocket, now containing the ashes, is taken to the sandpit and the fuse lit.

The rocket hissed and in one movement straightened and screamed up into the night. Behind it the ash jar cracked and fell apart. The only sign of the rocket in the sky was a brief disturbance of the drifting smoke left by the preceding firework...High above, far away, a tiny blur of red light penetrated the smoke. It had vanished before the accompanying muffled explosion reached the ground. There was nothing more. "So we will be," said the officiator