Carson had no concern about the darkness at her back. Here, in the warren of their monstrously strange accomplice, they were safer than they had been in a long time.
“What it does telepathically,” Deucalion said, “is project its inner nature in order to screen from us its physical appearance, because it would be impossible for most people who see it to believe it’s benign.”
Like Carson, Deucalion and Michael had been suspicious of the telepathically projected image and had been strong-willed enough to peer through the Resurrector’s radiant veil to the truth of its form. Deucalion had seen it twice, once for perhaps half a minute.
Michael achieved only the brief glimpse that Carson had seen. In spite of his tendency toward cynicism, he was convinced that the creature could be trusted, that it was allied with them. “If not, it could have killed us all back there, as big and powerful as it is.”
“None of the landfill workers saw through its disguise or even suspects there is one,” Deucalion said. “I doubt that the Alphas, Erika Four and the others, have any suspicion, either. They and the Resurrector are of the same flesh that Victor engineered for the New Race, and perhaps that renders them more susceptible than we are to its masquerade.”
“I was plenty susceptible,” Michael said. “I felt as if I was in an anteroom of Heaven, getting a pep talk from an archangel while waiting for judgment.”
“Why make a thing that looks … like that?” Carson wondered.
Deucalion shook his head. “That it should look like that was not Victor’s plan. Physiologically, it’s a gone- wrong. In its mind, in its intentions, it’s a gone-
The tunnel ceased to pass through compacted trash. Abruptly, its walls were formed of earth, coated with the glossy material that had sealed over the trash in the main passageway and in the first part of this one.
The Resurrector was a digger of considerable industry.
“Will he really come here?” Carson wondered.
“He will,” Deucalion assured her.
“But Erika Four says she’s called him twice. He knows she’s up here somewhere, reanimated. He knows something unprecedented must be happening.”
As Deucalion looked down at her, the light of the centuries-old storm throbbed through his eyes. “He’ll come nevertheless. He’s got too much invested in the tank farm, a new crop birthing in less than twenty-four hours. Mercy gone, this is his best bet. He’s arrogant and insanely certain of himself. Never forget the pride that drives him. Perhaps in all of history, there has been only one other whose pride was greater than Victor’s.”
Maybe the caffeine tide pulsing through Carson was brewing up new symptoms or maybe sleep deprivation torqued her mind in spite of the NoDoz-cola cocktails. Whatever the cause, a fresh anxiety began to pluck at her. She was not a seer, not a Gypsy with one eye in the future, but a prickly intuition warned her that even if Victor died in the next few hours, the world he wanted to make was a world of which others dreamed, as well, a world in which human exceptionalism was denied, in which the masses were regimented drones who served an untouchable elite, in which flesh was cheap. Even if Victor received justice and a grave in garbage, Carson and Michael were going to be making a life together in a world ever more hostile to freedom, to human dignity, to love.
As they reached the hole that had been bored through concrete block and into the basement of the main building at the tank farm, Deucalion said, “The first time I saw the Resurrector, before you two arrived, it told me — rather, it impressed on me in that wordless way it makes you know things — that it expects to die tonight, here or at the landfill.”
Michael let his breath out in a hiss. “That doesn’t sound like our side wins.”
“Or,” said Deucalion, “the creature may know that, in winning, sacrifices will have to be made.”
CHAPTER 64
The blue laser scanned James, approved of him, and switched off the security feature that would have fried him crisp if he had been an unwelcome intruder.
Carrying the crystal ball, he went to the second steel door. He put the sphere on the floor while he pulled the five lock bolts from their slots.
“Try prosciutto,” said the crystal sphere.
“That’s ham.”
“It works with.”
“With what?”
“I know the path to happiness,” said the sphere.
Voice tight with frustration, James said, “Then
“Paper-thin.”
“What does that mean?”
“Serve it paper-thin.”
The thick door swung open. James had been forbidden to enter the windowless Victorian drawing room. On his way out, he must leave the steel doors open, the exit route unobstructed.
He remained obedient, even in his current state of distraction.
Anyway, he had no interest in that room. Not when happiness might be within his grasp.
The crystal sphere said nothing on the way back to the library.
From the library desk, James phoned Mr. Helios and reported that the task had been completed precisely according to instructions.
The moment James hung up the phone, the sphere said, “You were not made for happiness.”
“But if you know the path …”
“I know the path to happiness.”
“But you won’t tell me?”
“Also works with cheese,” said the sphere.
“So I’m not worthy of happiness. Is that it?”
“You’re just a meat machine.”
“I’m a person,” James insisted.
“Meat machine. Meat machine.”
Furious, James threw the crystal ball to the floor, where it shattered, spilling a mass of slimy yellow seeds and revealing its orange inner flesh.
He stared at it for a while, uncomprehending.
When he looked up, he saw that someone had left a book on the desk:
The book said, “I know the path to happiness.”
With renewed hope and excitement, James said, “Please tell me.”
“Do you deserve happiness?”
“I believe I do. Why shouldn’t I deserve it?”
“There may be reasons.”
“Everyone deserves happiness.”
“Not everyone,” said the book, “but let’s talk about it.”
CHAPTER 65
As the GL550 raced north in the rain, Jocko hoped for more deer. While he hoped, he thought about some things.
Sometimes Jocko thought about big issues. Usually in two-minute segments. Between activities.
Big issues like why some things were ugly, some weren’t. Maybe if everything was beautiful, nothing would be.
