Tito and Nurse Carter came over. “We’re going to give you adrenaline,” Tito told Naomi. “It counters the drug.”
“I don’t want it,” Naomi said. “I just want my brother back.” She started crying. “I just want my brother back.”
“Do it, please,” Chuckie said. “Mimi, let’s go get you feeling better.” He put his arm around her and she leaned against him.
“Take her into the guest bedroom,” Jeff suggested, as Melanie and Emily came to help and relieve me from holding onto Naomi. Chuckie kept a hold of her, but Melanie and Emily each held one of Naomi’s arms.
Gladys was examining herself. “I could have been injected. You don’t really . . . remember correctly when you’re under mind control.”
“Come with us and we’ll examine you to be sure,” Nurse Carter said. Gladys joined the group heading to our guest bedroom, which, seeing as it was in the Embassy, was the size of a small apartment. So they’d have plenty of room. One tiny one for the win column. Decided to take it.
“Well,” Reader said when the door closed, “that was fun. We need to catch everyone up on all we know, but it should probably wait until Reynolds is back with us.”
“Kitty, Naomi didn’t mean it, not really,” Abigail said, as she came over and gave me a hug. “We know it wasn’t your fault.”
Hugged her back. “Thanks. But it still feels like my fault.”
“It does to everyone. I’m not sure if my talents are coming back, or if the grief and guilt is so strong from everyone that I can feel it without talent, but everyone feels the same as you do. And none of us are to blame.”
“She’s right,” Jeff said, as Abigail and I broke apart.
Chuckie came out of the guest room. “Doctor Hernandez is giving her something so she can sleep.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s got a drug cocktail inside her right now.”
“She’ll be okay,” Jeff said reassuringly.
“Right now, it doesn’t feel like anyone’s ever going to be okay ever again,” Chuckie said morosely.
Took a deep breath. I was going to lose it and I knew it. “I’ll be right back.” Squeezed Jeff’s hand as he gave me a worried look. “Just need to piddle. You guys catch everyone else up while I go.”
Went to our bedroom, closed the door, went into the closet, and closed that door. Like everything else in our apartment, the closet was huge, so there was plenty of room. Sat down near the hamper.
“I miss ACE. You know what I want, Operations Team of One? Elf of the Elves? I want ACE back. Let’s have Michael and Fuzzball back, too. Can you do that, or are you really only good for delivering Cokes and clean clothes?”
The hamper was silent, as hampers usually are. I hit it, simply because I wanted to hit something.
“Hey, Mister I’m Immortal, I’m talking to you. Why did you let them kill Michael and Fuzzball? Is that how you get your jollies?”
I didn’t expect an answer, so I was kind of shocked when Algar appeared, sitting right on top of the hamper.
CHAPTER 48
GAPED FOR A MOMENT, then found my voice. “I knew that was your portal.”
He shrugged. “I have a lot of portals. As you wisely surmised. You’re angry, I get it.”
“Do you? You know ACE wouldn’t have let Michael die, and probably not Fuzzball, either.”
Algar nodded. “You’re correct. But people, many people, and animals, die every day,” he said gently. “Some are, like your friend, murdered. Some die from disease, old age, accidents, violence of one kind or another. It’s part of the circle of life.”
“Thanks for that, Mufasa.”
He rolled his eyes. “Let me explain, again, the differences between me and what you call ACE. ACE sees all the death and knows it can’t do anything to stop it, but it wants to stop it. I see all the death and know that while I could stop it, free will demands that I don’t.”
Let that sink in. “You’ve been here a lot more than just the last few decades, haven’t you? I don’t mean living here on Earth, but you dropped by to visit, check the place out, kick the tires. Or else you’d never have either sent Ronald Yates here or come here yourself.”
“True enough.”
“So, are you the one Martin Luther threw the ink bottle at?”
Algar smiled. “That’s for me to know and you to find out. Just realize that everyone and everything dies. Planets, solar systems, galaxies, even. Gods can die. Immortals can be destroyed. Death is part of life—death is a vital part of life. Without death, there’s no room for new life. Without new life, there’s no hope for new ideas, new discoveries, new wisdom.”
“That’s awesome in the abstract, but it really sucks in reality.”
“Yes, it does.” He sighed. “The thing about free will is that it’s pretty much an all or nothing thing. Either you have free will, or you don’t. If you don’t, if all is preordained, what’s the point of existence?”
“Are all Black Hole People philosophers, or are they all just jerks like you?”
He chuckled. “Immortality sounds great until you have it. Immortality practically demands a philosophical outlook, at least over time. And it takes a long time to redeem a single mistake, and many bad things can and will happen in the course of that redemption.”
“Christopher says we’re back to square one, or worse.”
“Perhaps. Of course, he’s got his own problems that are shading his outlook. Just like everyone.”
“It’s my fault Fuzzball and Michael are dead.”
Algar’s eyes flashed. “Have you listened to a word I’ve said? Free will means they make their choices and they live, or die, with the consequences of them. Did you influence their deaths? Maybe. But the Poof made the choice to do what you asked, and it could have made the choice not to—there have been plenty of times when the Poofs have ignored your direct orders. Michael was trying to break free anyway. Because that’s what hero-types always do, and he fit that mold.”
“He wanted to break free to save everyone.”
“Which proves the adage: Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.”
“Are you saying he shouldn’t have fought back?”
“I’m saying that he made a choice, because he had free will. If that choice had gone the other way, if he and the Poof had won, you wouldn’t be sitting here berating me for allowing the Poof to eat your enemies or Michael to have beaten them to death. You’d be doing the happy dance.”
“Well, yeah.”
“You think the people you consider bad guys don’t pray to their gods like you do? You think they don’t consider this small victory proof that they’re in the right?”
“I know, I know, this is the oldest argument about why wars happen and never stop. Why people we consider terrorists are considered freedom fighters or heroes by others.”
“Exactly. Yes, they’re doing bad things, but they’re following a plan that outlines why, if they do all these bad things, the future will be better. Better for them, to be sure, but still, better.” Algar hopped down off the hamper. “You need to pull yourself together. Listen to some tunes, have sex with your husband.”
“I don’t feel like listening to anything and I doubt anyone feels like doing the deed right now.”
“On the contrary. One of the best things about the life forms in this part of the galaxy is that you all still have the primal urge of reproduction going strong—every species in this part of the galaxy is focused, at their cores, on proliferation of their species. Death creates the desire for life. And there’s only one natural way to bring life about.”
“You just want to turn on your Embassy Porn Channel.”