"How could they do such a thing?" They sat again on opposite sides of the table, drinking coffee and eating a meager breakfast. With the night passed and the boy off playing, she hoped she would find him more talkative.
"What, the great white hopefuls? Simple. There was no one to stop them."
"But why? when they brought us here in the first place?" He chewed a stale biscuit, and for a time did not answer.
"Don't ask me to explain the Minority Homestead Act. It was created by another government, and would take a week."
"But the killing—-"
"Every expansionist power needs a hate-group within its own boundaries, someone to blame for their own fears and failures. Someone for the violent but inexperienced to cut their teeth on. Hating the Jews is no longer fashionable, and there aren't enough of them here. We were obvious, so they picked us instead."
"Surely it's not that simple."
"Of course not," he said irritably. "We represented old fears and religious prejudice, the 'mark of Cain' and all that brutal bullshit. We still had money and pride when their debt-based economy crashed….. This is pointless; figure it out for yourself. I don't want to know their reasons, only what I can do about it." He fell silent, hard and cold. She said no more.
At that moment the boy came running out of the back and climbed quickly onto the bench beside her. Tears were in his eyes, and she put her arm around him. He buried his head against her, peeped out at the man, then buried it again.
"Look after him, will you? I'm going out for a while." The man rose, switched off the shield and went to the entrance.