"Anyway," said Mother.
But John Paul had another question, and he had to ask it. "If everybody's Catholic, why do the schools teach anti-Catholic?"
Father looked at him like he was crazy. "How old are you?"
He must not have understood what John Paul was asking, since it had nothing to do with ages. "I'm five, Father, don't you remember? But why do the schools teach anti-Catholic?"
r /> Father turned to Mother. "He's only five, why are you teaching him this?"
"You taught him," said Mother. "Always ranting about the government."
"It's not our government, it's a military occupation. Just one more attempt to extinguish Poland."
"Yes, keep talking, that's how you'll get cited again and you'll lose your job and then what will we do?"
It was obvious John Paul wasn't going to get any answer and he gave up, saving the question for later, when he got more information and could connect it together.
That was how life went on, the year John Paul was five: Mother working constantly, cooking meals and tending the babies even while she tried to run a school in the parlor, Father going away to work so early in the morning that the sun wasn't even up, and all of the children awake so they could see their father at least once a day.
Until the day Father stayed home from work.
Mother and Father were both very quiet and tense at breakfast, and when Anna asked them why Father wasn't dressed for work, Mother only snapped, "He's not going today," in a tone that said, "Ask no more questions."
With two teachers, lessons should have gone better that day. But Father was an impatient teacher, and he made Anna and Catherine so upset they fled to their rooms, and he ended up going out into the garden to weed.
So when the knock came on the door, Mother had to send Andrew running out back to get Father. Moments later, Father came in, still brushing dirt from his hands. The knock had come twice more while he was coming, each time more insistent.
Father opened the door and stood in the frame, his large strong body filling the space. "What do you want?" he demanded. He said it in Common rather than Polish, so they knew it was a foreigner at the door.
The answer was quiet, but John Paul heard it clearly. It was a woman's voice, and she said, "I'm from the International Fleet's testing program. I understand you have three boys between the ages of six and twelve."
"Our children are none of your business."
"Actually, Mr. Wieczorek, the mandatory testing initiative is the law, and I'm here to fulfill my responsibilities under that law. If you prefer, I can have the military police come and explain it to you." She said it so mildly that John Paul almost missed the fact that it wasn't an offer she was making, it was a threat.
Father stepped back, his face grim. "What would you do, put me in jail? You've passed laws that forbid my wife from working, we have to teach our children at home, and now you'd deprive my family of any food at all."
"I don't make government policy," said the woman as she surveyed the room full of children. "All I care about is testing children."
Andrew spoke up. "Peter and Catherine already passed the government tests," he said. "Only a month ago. They're up to grade."
"This isn't about being up to grade," said the woman. "I'm not from the schools or the Polish government--"
"There is no Polish government," said Father. "Only an occupying army to enforce the dictatorship of the Hegemony."
"I'm from the fleet," said the woman. "By law we're forbidden even to express opinions of Hegemony policy while we're in uniform. The sooner I begin the testing, the sooner you can go back to your regular routines. They all speak Common?"
"Of course," said Mother, a little pridefully. "At least as well as they speak Polish."
"I watch the test," said Father.
"I'm sorry, sir," said the woman, "but you do not watch. You provide me with a room where I can be alone with each child, and if you have only one room in your dwelling, you take everyone outside or to a neighbor's house. I will conduct these tests."
Father tried to face her down, but he had no weapons for this battle, and he looked away. "It doesn't matter if you test or not. Even if they pass, I'm not letting you take them."
"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," said the woman. She looked sad. And John Paul suddenly understood why: Because she knew that Father would have no choice about anything, but she didn't want to embarrass him by pointing it out. She just wanted to do her job and go.
John Paul didn't know how he knew these things, but sometimes they just came to him. It wasn't like history facts or geography or mathematics, where you had to learn things before you knew them. He could just look at people and listen to them and suddenly he'd know things about them. About what they wanted or why they were doing the things they were doing. When his brothers and sisters quarreled, for instance. He usually got a clear idea of just what was causing the quarrel, and most of the time he knew, without even trying to think of it, just the right thing to say to make the quarreling stop. Sometimes he didn't say it, because he didn't mind if they quarreled. But when one of them was getting really angry--angry enough to hit--then John Paul would say the thing he needed to say, and the fight would stop, just like that.