The White Shield House

I watch the flooded town of Amsterdam with relief. It took us almost two months from the Ural Mountains to get here. There were so many obstacles that I thought we wouldn’t make it. If Sam wasn’t so good in conducting the boat, we wouldn’t be here now. I can see a myriad of islands made of ancient rooftops, silent witnesses of centuries of decay. 

Our contact is waiting for us in a gardened harbor that once was a terrace in the top of a tall building. He’s a short man, with blond hair and green eyes. His clothes are clean but worn out, jeans and a white t-shirt. Not much different from what I’m wearing.- Hello, dear. Your mother is well, I assume.
“Yes, Mr. Van der Wieden. When I left her, she was working hard. The Paris’ Reconstruction Effort is taking all her time but she’s happier than ever.”
“I’m also happy that the White Shield has finally got the permission to erect its own city-state. It was about time we get a permanent shelter for our treasures.”

I smile in response. Van der Wieden guides me to his shack, a small wooden structure decorated with a chaotic combination of books, pictures, boxes of all sizes and dirt. He points out two big boxes.
“This is the result of two years of White Shield’s efforts in the Low Countries area. The ducal palace had a lot of artifacts, most of them in perfect condition. It only takes me three dives with a helper to get a bunch of good stuff. Your mother will be very pleased.”
“Sure. She is anxious to begin the Dutch wing of our Museum.”
“And this is your gift for your mother. I could restore it without much problem. Sixteenth century’s leather-bound and vellum... An almost perfect combination. I think she will be enchanted.”
He gives me a carefully made package that I put in my backpack. We arrange the boxes on my little boat with Sam’s help. I look around, seeing that we’re almost out of space. Beyond the load from Amsterdam, there are our own findings, in Eastern Europe. It was a rewarding trip.
And the voyage home begins.

***

We travel in silence because Sam can’t speak, as his ancestors had lost this ability in the years after the Final War. We flow along a river stream, one that wasn’t there three centuries ago. Today the planet called Earth is much more water than anything.

I contemplate the green pastures that show up every now and then. For me, this is a marvelous sighting, as this was a wasteland, marked by craters and radioactive clouds until a century ago.

It took long, almost three centuries; to mankind heal the scars left by the Final War. In the beginning, everyone was unhappy, confused, not trusting in our recovery. But hope was always there, in the shape of the White Shield.
I’m proud of it. It is my organization, my family, my mission.

We arrive in Paris almost ten hours later. Sam is more tired than me, so I let him in the boat as I walk towards my final destination, to call someone to help me with the boxes. It is always a pleasure to wander on the streets. Most of the buildings are now ruins but the organization had retained its memories, with holographic models and projection showing old splendors. The Council had decided to reconstruct most of the historical buildings in old downtown.
But here the vestiges would remain as a warning of how close we have been to final destruction.

Beyond the ruins, I can hear shouts and the sound of people working. The ReConstruction team salutes me as I walk by.
“Marianne, it’s great to see you. So, how did your trip go?”
“It went very well indeed, uncle. The boat is full and Sam will need a hand to unload it.”
“I’ll take care of this myself, dear. Go on, your mother is just ahead.”

I reach the House, a huge museum, built in the most modern architectural style. After making a security check, I go on the alleys, smiling to the scenario around me. I compliment old friends of mine: statues that have seen centuries, monuments that resisted more than fifty wars, masterworks that crossed generations, all part of the cultural treasure rescued by us.