Chapter 7

Level 191. Easter and old Rolf talking.

“Have you seen Mother Rebecca? Where is she?”

“Don’t call her mother.”

“W-why not? I always called her mother. Because she’s a mother to me.”

“Because she ordered me to tell you this: she’s no mother; at best she’s going to be the worst mother ever.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, uncle Rolf.”

“Think, Easter, think!”

“Wish to talk to her.”

“That way. She left that way.” Rolf points to the white elevator doors carved in the central pillar.

“Thank you, uncle Rolf. Are you okay?” Easter’s hand stumbles upon his hip, her fingers breeze his skin, looking for something to caress, to comfort.

“I am good, Easter. You’re such a candy. Spare yourself for the road ahead.”

The bijou goddess is gone. Yet not behind the doors of the elevator in the central pillar. She just vanished out of thin air, like any worthy goddess would do.

“Oh Lord, Yasu Khrist, Son of God, have mercy on me, worthless Easter. Help me figure out...”

“Figure out what?”

“A way to bring back Mother Rebecca.”

“Bring her back to what?”

“To her senses maybe.”

“She’s well within her senses.”

“Then bring her back to me?”

“For you?”

“And for her.”

“She’s determined to step ahead, not step back.”

“Lord, I’m afraid I know what she is carrying.”

“Don’t you think that I know better than you? And I’m not afraid at all. But you?”

“Oh, I know of what I’m afraid most. Of my fears. Of the abyss I can contemplate ahead. Is this what makes one human?”

“Indeed. This is what made Me human. I had to walk on the precipice Myself. To look down.”

“Did You shiver?”

“I had to. Like I wished to. But My-Self-Ever-Living hold Me from any shudder. I cannot hesitate, no matter how hard I wish to try.”

“But the human experience? The fall? The pain? The passions? Your Passions! The Cross?”

“I often spoke of the Father as He would be another Person than Me. I exercised in believing that I am not the Father. Whom I Am. As We-Are-One. You are doing a much better job at imitating My struggle to fall as a human.”

“Why, God?”

“Because you’re another person, like any human would be. A tiny goddess and no God. It is easier for you, from where you are, to talk to Me, everywhere I am.”

“Easier?”

“Than for Me to fall from Me.”

“Ah, I see. Mother Rebecca, still.”

“Forget about her.”

“But she is my godmother.”

“And I am your God. Let her go so she may come again.”

“Tell me then.”

“Return to your brother Saturn. He needs your musings. Don’t you think that he is a bit overwhelmed?”

“Think? I know for certain. He finds himself in great distress after the disparition of our natural father, Kronos.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That inertia is all he’s got. And that is running out. Fast.”

“Then go to him and talk to him.”

“Where?”

“Polaris. You’ve been lost in staring at the abyss. So lost that you’ve forgotten how to look at the few stars still up there, on the skies.”

“Thank you, Lord.”

“Run, little thing, run.”