Chapter 29

As expected, the kids had experienced a gradual relapse; their energy faded, they felt weaker, had difficulty breathing, increased fever and coughing.

Their mothers had taken an unoccupied room nearby and crashed. I checked in on them before returning to the children's room and resuming my watch over them. But this time, no link. My presence might help them in some way, but I'd decided not to directly feed them. They'd have to fight off the infection as much on their own as possible.

I'd been sitting quietly, thinking about the AG, when a faint little voice broke my concentration.

"Daddy?"

I blinked, peered into the dimly lit room and saw Tink watching me.

"How're you feeling sweetie?" I asked softly.

"Hot." she said.

I nodded. "It won't last much longer. You want a drink?"

She shook her head weakly. "Tell me another story."

"You should try and sleep." I told her.

"Please? I like to hear you talk."

"Yeah?"

She gave me a gap toothed smile. "Yeah."

I shrugged and started talking. The first story that popped into my head was the story of Gilgamesh, Enkidu and Shamhat, which took about thirty five minutes to tell. By the time I finished, Tink had gone back to sleep, a faint smile on her lips, but Rosie was awake by then and she urged me to keep talking, so I told her about Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. She dozed off just as Arthur and Mordred were beating the snot out of one another, at which point AJ woke up. He liked the battles, so I continued in that vein with Beowulf. AJ drifted off half-way thru the story which gave me a chance to take a piss and get a drink of water. My mouth and throat were incredibly dry after talking for so long. Then Belle woke up and she wanted a story.

Surprisingly, my tough little fighter wanted to hear a love story. But she had some very definite ideas about what kind; nothing cutesy, sappy or pinkish for her.

Have you ever heard of a love story that wasn't cutesy, sappy or reeking of pinkish-ness? Aren't those the defining characteristics of a love story?

Not in Belle's mind they weren't.

Lilly, though she'd deny it from creation till hell froze over, has a weakness for romance novels. All the throbbing, heaving, pulsating and similarly related adjectives, give her some sort of vicarious thrill. Peggy won't admit it either, but I'd caught her sneaking a peak in Lilly's books when she thought no one was looking. Izzy, on the other hand, prefers more hard-core reading, and isn't the least bit reticent about sharing it with me.

That didn't surprise me one little bit. I knew she got her wilder ideas from somewhere, but after I discovered the collection she kept in her personal room, and glanced thru some of them, I was more amazed by the restraint she'd obviously shown. There was some weird shit in those books. Made the Marquis de Sade look positively prudish.

Well, there was no way I was going to tell my daughter a story from one of Izzy's books.

The best I could come up with was Taming of the Shrew. Curiously, I've never read that particular play. In High School we had to read Macbeth, Hamlet, Richard III and Othello, and when I went to college the first time I had a Lit class where we performed literary autopsies on Henry V and Romeo and Juliet, but Shrew never made it on my reading list. However ... about five months after I started officially working at the CIA, I got my hands on some tickets for a production of Shrew that was being performed at the Kennedy Center. The girls and I dressed to the nines and went to see the play. Unfortunately for the actors, most of the audience spent the evening watching the four of us, and the lack of attention significantly affected their performances. But I was paying attention that night and remembered the lines, so I recited them for my little angel, and she seemed to like it well enough, although she fell asleep less than a third of the way thru.

I'd gotten into a rhythm by then and just kept going. When I finished with Shakespeare, I started with Joel Chandler Harris' tales of Br'er Rabbit, which led me to Anansi the Spider, tales my Granddad had told me of Coyote and Raven, then Greek and eventually Norse mythology.

It was early in the morning by then and all four of the children were wide awake, sitting up in their beds watching me closely as I told them the story of how Odin traded one eye so he could see the future, how he nailed himself to Yggdrasill, the World Tree, with his own spear, hanging there in agony for nine days in order to gain the secret knowledge of runes.

"'I trow I hung on that windy Tree
nine whole days and nights,
stabbed with a spear, offered to Odin,
myself to mine own self given,
high on that Tree of which none hath heard
from what roots it rises to heaven.

None refreshed me ever with food or drink,
I peered right down in the deep;
crying aloud I lifted the Runes
then back I fell from thence.

Nine mighty songs I learned from the great
son of Bale-thorn, Bestla's sire;
I drank a measure of the wondrous Mead,
with the Soulstirrer's drops I was showered.

Ere long I bare fruit, and throve full well,
I grew and waxed in wisdom;
word following word, I found me words,
deed following deed, I wrought deeds.

Hidden Runes shalt thou seek and interpreted signs,
many symbols of might and power,
by the great Singer painted, by the high Powers fashioned,
graved by the Utterer of gods.

For gods graved Odin, for elves graved Daïn,
Dvalin the Dallier for dwarfs,
All-wise for Jötuns, and I, of myself,
graved some for the sons of men.

Dost know how to write, dost know how to read,
dost know how to paint, dost know how to prove,
dost know how to ask, dost know how to offer,
dost know how to send, dost know how to spend?

Better ask for too little than offer too much,
like the gift should be the boon;
better not to send than to overspend.
...
Thus Odin graved ere the world began;
Then he rose from the deep, and came again.'"

"What makes a god a God?"

Anyone? Anyone at all?

No?

I can't say I'm surprised. It's not what most modern philosophers or theologians consider a subject urgently in need of extended debate.

The thing is though, while the majority of Americans claim to believe in a Supreme Being or Higher Power, very few could, if pressed, define that entity in clear, unambiguous and exacting terms. Faith is funny that way. Belief solely for the sake of believing.

What is a god anyway? Do you know? Would you know God if you met him? Or her? Or It?

The last thing I read defining the word went like this: any of various beings conceived of as supernatural, immortal, and having special powers over the lives and affairs of people and the course of nature; deity, esp. a male deity: typically considered objects of worship.

This definition has always bothered me, because it's a little too close to my personal reality.

Supernatural? Existing or occurring outside the normal experience or knowledge of man; not explainable by the known forces or laws of nature; specifically of, involving, or attributed to God or a god; exceeding normal bounds; extreme.

Again, much too close for comfortable consideration.

Immortal? Deathless; living or lasting forever.

Who the hell knows? I mean honestly... lasting forever? Forever is a long damn time, and who, beside the immortal is gonna be able to keep track? If I were to tell you that I'd been alive for ten thousand years, is there anyone around who could definitively say I was lying? Were you there?

What about omnipotent? Now there's word with some weight behind it. Having unlimited power or authority.

Well, that ain't me. Not long after I got back from LA I went down to the executive gym at Langley, when I was sure no one else was around, and tried to bench press 400 pounds. I ended up pulling a muscle. Normally I can manage ten reps of 300 without too much trouble, but I guess 400 is my ceiling. So ... no lifting of mountains, trains or cars for me. And while I do have a great deal of stamina (I've been known to run laps for hours unless interrupted) I'll never win a marathon because I'm just not that fast. So I guess I'm off the hook there. Authority? There's the rub. If I wanted to ... if I really wanted to ... I'm pretty sure I could be the only authority. It would entail a hell of a lot of work on my part, but it could be done. So I guess I've got to split the difference on that one.

What about omnipresent? I've heard that word used in conjunction with omnipotent so many times that apparently, as far as modern believers are concerned, they've become a paired requirement. Present in all places at the same time.

Can't do that either. In the past I've had trouble just being in one place at the same time.

All-knowing and/or all-seeing? This one is flaky, because in theory I could be, depending on which hairs you want to split. With my ability to remember I could, theoretically, sit down and memorize every bit of knowledge human beings have acquired throughout the span of our cultural existence.

Though why anyone would want to escapes me, because (let's face it) some of our knowledge is pretty fucking useless. Interesting, but useless.

All-seeing ... well, I can see, or sense, one hell of a lot, but not all, so there's another one where I only get fifty percent.

"What makes a god a God?"

Lucy Fan asked me that question once, and I couldn't give her an answer. Each one of my girls has posed similar questions to me in the years since my West Coast trip. I couldn't answer them either. I just don't know.

I don't have an answer. I think you'd have to be more than a little nutty to even think about supplying one, particularly if you're the god they've got in mind.

Think about it. If you're not and you say you're not, no big deal, right? If you're not and you say you are, large men in white are going to strap you into a canvas tux and toss your ass into a padded room where you can rule over your delusional little universe in peaceful solitude.

But what if you were? What if you could prove that you were? And what if the rest of the world believed you? What if you could actually convince the world's pre-existing religions, and their associated institutions, that they'd been wrong and that you were the real deal? What if... ?

What then?

I'll tell you what I think ... any one with the slightest claim to godhood, with even the tiniest little hint of the all-knowing, all-seeing, all-powerfulness required to qualify, would have to be a complete and utter imbecile to actually come out and admit it. Look at the historical precedents ... not a great career choice.

Yeah, the adoration, worshipping, blood sacrifices and bacchanalias might be fun for a while, but then what? I'll tell you what; people, being the indolent fucks they are, would just up and dump the world, with all its associated problems, in your lap and then stand by expectantly waiting for you to make everything right ... whatever the hell that means.

Let me tell you, it's hard enough being the father of four children ... do a little basic extrapolating and imagine having billions of whiney children wanting their collective boo-boos kissed.

Fuck that!

Still, there've been times when I just couldn't help but wonder.

What if... ?

"Why did he do that Daddy?" AJ's question broke thru my brief reverie and brought me back to the there and then.

"Why did he do what?"

"Stick himself with a spear."

I smiled at my boy. "That's a very good question. There are a lot of different opinions, but I think it's a metaphor."

"What's a meda-for?" Rose asked.

"It's a way of comparing different things using the same words or expression. Like, oh ... the curtain of night. Night is like a curtain because it blocks our view of things, just like a curtain blocks the view from a window or a stage."

"Oh. Okay."

"So the spear is a meda-for?" AJ asked?

I nodded. "I think so. Actually, I think the whole story is a metaphor. Most scholars do. But what the spear represents, or the tree, or the runes ... there's a few different opinions."

"What do you think they mean Daddy?" Tink chimed in.

I sat back and crossed my legs. "I think the tree represents the path of our lives, from the day we're born until the day we die. The runes, the great mystical secret that Odin wants so very much, I think they represent knowledge or wisdom; the difference between truth and lies. And the spear, well I think it represents the pain and struggle we go thru during our lives in order to gain that knowledge. Life isn't always fun and games; sometimes it can be very scary. For instance, you guys were out playing in the snow the other day, and having a pretty good time too I bet, but then you got sick. That wasn't much fun, was it?"

All four of them cast cautious glances at one another and then looked down at their bed sheets, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Was it?" I asked gently.

"No Daddy." Tink mumbled faintly.

"Nuh-uh." AJ confirmed, a frown on his little face.

"No." Rose and Belle said in unison.

"No. Not much fun at all. Not for you, not for you moms, not for me either. But hopefully, you all learned an important lesson. Getting sick, that's the spear you guys stuck in yourselves. It hurt, didn't it?"

I got a round of reluctant nods.

"People, young and old, only seem to learn the hard lessons of life if they hurt. The important thing is that you learn not to make the same mistake again"

"Like what happened to my mommy?" Belle asked suddenly.

I nodded gravely. "Like that. Your mommy learned her lesson, have you?"

There was a comical flurry of earnest head bobbing, followed by a cacophony of "Yes, Daddy", "I have", "Me too", and one faintly defiant "I guess."

I've been reliably informed by several graduates of the child rearing fraternity, and a great many books on child psychology, that the sort of aggressive defiance I sensed from my son should have stopped around age three, not to return again until he reached puberty. How did I get so lucky?

I shifted my eyes to AJ and stared intently. He stared back, dark brown eyes narrowed by their lowered lashes. If it weren't for the underlying baby fat in his cheeks, it would have been like looking at my brother Ivan when he was a boy. I felt a heated flash of anger ripple across my face. AJ's eyes widened and his lips thinned.

"Maybe you'd rather spend a few more days pinned to the tree?" I asked quietly. Ominously.

AJ's sisters heads swiveled back and forth between the two of us, watching our expressions closely.

"You said Odin and Zeus killed their fathers ... why did they do that?" my son asked, ignoring my question to him.

"Another metaphor. Zeus and Odin killing their fathers is another way of explaining how the world came to exist from chaos." This was not a subject I ever expected to be discussing with my son, not at this point in his life. "Look guys, the one constant in the universe is change; things are always changing and no matter how much you might want them to stay the same, they won't. I fought with my father the same way he fought with his father; the way you guys will one day fight me and your children will fight you. Young animals fight older ones for dominance, for the right to lead the herd or pack or pride, for a change. Each generation has to fight to take control from the one that came before it, because no one willingly gives up power ... not once they've got it. In some ancient human cultures a boy wasn't considered a man until he physically defeated his father in a fight, proving that he was ready to be a full member of the clan or tribe."