The Sum of All Tears
Mary Hightower and her huge cumulus of Afterlights crossed the Nevada desert, pulled by Mary’s conviction that something spectacular lay ahead of them. They carried with them more than twenty Interlights whose bodies lay comatose back in the town of Artesia. If all went according to plan, every single one of them would awake as a skinjacker.
On a bright chilly January morning, Mary stepped from the living-world desert, and onto the Trinity deadspot. Mary was not a girl easily impressed. She had seen many things in her deathtime, but nothing could prepare her for this moment. All around them, on a deadspot that stretched for more than a mile, was a treasure trove of crossed objects. The ground was a giant repository of random items. Chairs and cars and toys and clothes and books and boxes and basically every type of manmade object imaginable stretched for as far as the eye could see. Flashes of static, like tiny forked lightning, sparked around them every few seconds; phantom branches of light, shooting between metal objects.
Clearly this wasn’t just a deadspot; it was some kind of vortex. In all her years in Everlost, bargaining and trading with finders for crossed items to keep her children in perpetual comfort, she had never had seen so many things. Not even her brother, during his monstrous days filling the cargo holds of the Sulphur Queen, had ever accumulated this much! Mary had no idea where it had all come from, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was here now, for her, and for her children.
“Is it real?” one of her younger children asked.
“Of course it is,” Mary answered. This was not exactly what she had imagined when she pictured the place she was being drawn to, but in its own way it was better. It was very clearly the center of gravity, the focal point of the world.
Mary and her children wandered through the maze of crossed belongings, spellbound by all the things around them.
“What is this place?” her children asked.
“The heart of Everlost,” she told them. “We’re finally home.”
Mary, as it turns out, was not the first to stumble upon the Trinity vortex. Another resourceful, if somewhat water-logged, spirit had gotten there first.
After the attack on the train, hundreds of refugees had scattered. Only some of them had rejoined Milos. The rest formed their own vapors and went their separate ways. Many had been reabsorbed into Mary’s growing cumulus as they stormed across Texas into New Mexico, but one group, numbering close to a hundred, had been shepherded by none other than Speedo.
Speedo never fancied himself much of a leader, but because he had been close to Mary, because he was the train’s conductor, and because he had been the only nonskinjacker with special privileges, he was the one his group of refugees turned to for guidance.
“Well, Mary wanted us to go west, so we’ll go west,” he had told them. He didn’t know what he would find there, but it sure beat hanging around to be attacked by the Neons again.
o;We need to figure out what Charlie was trying to say,” Nick reminded them.
“Why?” said Johnnie. “Why bother? I say we stay here after the freakin’ blimp leaves, and eat all the food king ‘Yakin’ Kook Moon’ leaves behind!”
“No, Nick is right,” said Jix. “We can’t just ignore it. If it came from the light, then it’s a message from the gods.”
“You mean God!” said Johnnie. “I might not remember my life, but I do know I went to Sunday school, so I know there ain’t a whole bunch of ‘gods,’ there’s only one, unless you mean the holy Trinity, which is kinda like one divided into three—and hey—I’ll bet that’s what Charlie meant. He saw the Holy Trinity when he looked into the light!”
Nick shook his head. “He couldn’t have seen anything yet—the tunnel’s like an air lock. By the time you see what’s there, it’s too late to tell anyone.”
“So the gods must mean something else,” said Jix.
“God, not gods!” insisted Johnnie.
Nick threw up his hands. “God, gods, or whatever,” said Nick. “Right now, it doesn’t matter whether it’s Jesus, or Kukulcan, or a dancing bear at the end of the tunnel. What matters is that we have a clue, and we have to figure it out.”
“Why?” Johnnie asked again. “Why does God—excuse me, I mean ‘the Light of Universal Whatever’—why does it just give us a freakin’ impossible clue? Why can’t it just tell us what we’re supposed to do?”
“Because,” said Mikey, “the Dancing Bear wants us to suffer.”
But Jix had a different opinion on the matter. “I think the Universe wants only to point us in a direction, not tell us what to do. If it tells us, then we’re not really choosing. It only means something if we choose it.”
“Yeah, but if we’re supposed to save the stinkin’ world, why make it so hard?” said Johnnie. “In fact, why make us do it at all? If ‘the light’ is all-powerful, then ‘the light’ oughta save the world itself, and leave us alone.”
“Maybe it doesn’t want to save the world,” said Nick.
Mikey laughed bitterly. “If that’s what you think, then why are you even here? You should join my sister; you’re in love with her anyway.”
“Just hear me out,” said Nick. “Mary wants to destroy the living world. We want to save it. The ‘Universal Whatever’ is willing to accept either outcome, so it makes the odds fifty-fifty.”
“ ‘Fifty-fifty’?” said Mikey. “If you ask me, Mary’s got the advantage right now.”
“So if you were the light at the end of the tunnel, how would you even out the odds?” Nick asked.