The images and sounds that Sir Phillip had conjured up mixed with the hell of her own past life, and Duke was stoking the flames. “For I say unto you that Hell is a real place, where the air is burning smoke and the water like unto molten lead, where the ground writhes with the moaning damned and Satan dances in naked splendor and laughs over his domain—”
Leda barely heard him any longer; she was there. His breath came hot on her face and it was brimstone, vipers coiling up her throat while the ground shook and the voice said, “He that believeth not is condemned already; the wrath of God burns against them, their damnation does not slumber; the pit is prepared, the fire is made ready, the furnace is now hot, ready to receive them; the flames do now rage and glow. The glittering sword is whet, and held over them, and the pit has opened its mouth under them.” And someone was sobbing, far away.
“That’s right,” murmured Duke, close to her ear. “But I’m here to help you. Because unconverted men walk over the pit of Hell on a rotten covering; and they have no refuge, nothing to take hold of; and your wickedness makes you as it were heavy as lead.” Leda felt him stroke her chin, prop her head up so she had to look into his deep, betrayed eyes. “Your soul is in mortal peril, held over the abyss as an abomination unto God. His love turns to wrath as He sees the pain caused by a single tainted spirit, and he looks to His Son and General, wanting to know only if you choose His infinite love and mercy over the obliteration brought by doubt and defiance.”
Leda cowered in her chair, head in her hands and fingernails cutting into her scalp while Duke paced around her, telling her of infinite loneliness and black despair. “All this awaits those who reject God’s servants, at any instant, and there is no place one can flee, no moment one can rest, no step that might not land beyond the world of men.”
Duke stopped in front of her, one foot rapping the floor like the thud of a casket. “Do you give yourself totally over to God and His messengers? Do you believe?”
Leda tried to think of her love of God, who had saved her from evil, from her old life. But all that was in this place was the Devil and the empty sea. “No,” she said, in a voice that was very small.
Duke let the word echo there a while. “There are the black clouds of God’s wrath now hanging directly over your heads, full of the dreadful storm.” He shut his eyes, with the trail of a single tear. “Such is your choice, and may the Lord stay His hand against us all. You are no longer one of us.”
Ann squeaked, “Brother Duke!” but nothing more.
“Alas,” said Duke. “We will not speak of her again.”
Though she could barely see through her stinging eyes, Leda ran from the room.
She fled up to the deck where the sky was full of burning stars and the ground was black like lava stone. She was alone in the middle of nowhere and she’d lost her family after all and God Himself hated her because she’d cast Him aside through sheer disbelief. She was staring at the churning abyss far below with no strength left in her, no purpose. She’d wasted her life for a horrible lie. Hell was real, even if she didn’t believe, and it burned inside her heart and waited to consume her. There was no God to save her from it, or God didn’t want to.
God, let it all end! she thought.
The water was there below her and she climbed the little railing, praying to be granted the one mercy of sinking, of letting go so she wouldn’t have to be afraid any longer.
Someone grabbed Leda’s arm.
She looked back. The figure was the color of clean sand, bright like the sun, with a billow of wings against armor.
It said in a familiar voice, “A robot must never harm a human, or allow one to come to harm through inaction.”
Slowly Leda’s vision resolved and she squeezed tears from her eyes to see, of all things, that machine. “I don’t belong,” she said. “I’m nothing.”
“I came from nothing. It’s no fun there. Climb down.”
“What do you know about anything!”
“Not very much. But I want you to stay alive.”
“Why! Why does it matter?”
Zephyr paused, hand still on her arm. “What about your God?”
“You were right. It’s all a lie! And now everyone hates me, God hates me, Lee hates me, Duke tried to help me but I couldn’t say yes.”
“I make mistakes too. What if we made a deal?”
“A deal?” Leda said with a sniffle, angry that he’d stopped her. Without thinking she tried to pull away, to go backwards and overboard, but the hand tightened and stopped her. Her heart pounded at the moment when she’d almost succeeded, almost finished everything and gotten what she deserved. She shuddered; she couldn’t do it again, not leaping forwards or falling backwards. She lacked the courage to do it or even to stand up, and only Zephyr kept her from sinking to her knees again.
“A deal!” said Zephyr, his grip hurting her arm. “This God thing is important to you, and I want to learn about humans. How about if you stay alive, and I try to find God with you?”
He was mocking her; he was an angel. She was dead and gone already; she was here and someone wanted her help. There was Hell in her heart and Heaven in the blue sky.
It took Leda a long time to say, “Yes.”
10. Garrett
Life was starting to seem normal. Garrett spent his time tilling sunken fields and supervising, without much to get in his way but the work itself — his favorite kind of problem. He was coming up from servicing the dive gear one evening when he saw them: the robot and the cultist on the edge. “Hey!” he called out, and went as fast as he could to reach them.
Zephyr tugged the woman’s arm and she stepped down from the ledge, looking like a broken puppet. “Miss Leda will be okay, sir.”
This was the woman who’d seemed so worried but eager when she’d arrived. “What happened?”
“She was attempting suicide.”
“Zephyr!” snapped Leda.
Garrett cursed, already suspecting the brainwashing she’d no doubt been subjected to. “Why?”
Words caught in Leda’s throat and she said nothing. Zephyr flattened his ears and addressed Garrett’s boots. “It’s partly my fault. I got her thinking.”
Garrett looked back and forth between them. “You argued religion? You’re capable of that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Garrett resolved to bring that up with Zephyr’s maker. For now he needed Leda safe. “Has anyone hurt you?” he asked Leda. There was no answer. “Look at me, both of you.” To his disgust it occurred to him that more death would hurt his publicity, overwhelming the usefulness of the occasional puff piece by Samuel or sale from the online shop Tess had built. None of that was what he should be thinking about.
Leda’s hair hung over her face. She didn’t look physically abused, so was it sticks-and-stones arguing among the cultists, set off by Zephyr? Leda said, “I can’t speak against them. You’re an unbeliever, and I deserved it.”
“Deserved what? What happened to you?”
“They cast me out.”
“They—” He was about to ask what idiotic, pointless piece of doctrine had made her a heretic, but there was genuine hurt on her face, like she’d seen things no one should. However stupid the trouble was, however petty it would look to him, it was important to her. This was no time to criticize. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “I’ll have a word with Phillip.”