“Thomas Paine?” Mica asked.
“Yes,” Ocean said. “Mica, we are in the third peril Washington spoke of two hundred and fifty years ago.” Mica stared at her. “And you know the help against the third peril comes in the shape of divine assistance, passing which, the whole world united shall not prevail against her.”
“Again with the Washington quotes.” Mica shook her head. “You’ve never shied away from asking for the moon.”
“Neither of us wanted you in this post,” Ocean said. “No offense. But here we are. And I hope you’ll help the cause. If nothing else you can enjoy the notoriety.”
“Yeah, ’cause that’s always been my motivation.” Mica rolled her eyes. “What is your timeline, exactly?”
“We have to be swift. We have until the solstice to prepare. Right about then, we’ll need ten thousand celestials.”
“Right,” Mica said through pursed lips. She’d come a long way and molded herself through different decades of belief in her fifty-five years, but her faith in her own spiritual power had always been a constant. It was a good thing, too; she was going to need all the power she could muster, internal and ancestral, to prevail in her current agenda.
Ocean walked out of the Oval Office feeling unsure of Mica’s cooperation. Mica was their only option if things had gone wrong, though. And they had.
With the warrior goddess energy in her blood, Mica could take down the whole damn thing and not feel a bit of remorse. Of that Ocean was certain.
Joel hadn’t showered or brushed his teeth in three days. His mind had been filled with thoughts of Rachel, Skylar, and the last twenty years of his life. He had known they were together to give Skylar a solid life, and that had been accomplished. That was, until the last couple of years—until everything had turned on its ear. He thought back to how distraught Skylar had been learning about Rachel and Cassie and all they had kept secret. Well intentioned or not, they all had deceived her. Now he looked back on the last twenty years with regret. At the time, you make decisions thinking they’re the right ones. Only looking back is it painfully obvious how wrong some of those decisions turned out to be.
He went out to his car and looked at the bundle sitting on his passenger seat. He hadn’t touched it since he’d taken it from Ocean’s house. Finally getting out of his spiral of self-pity, he got it out of the car. If this can help get Skylar back, if I can somehow contact her with this insane gadget, maybe it will help undo some of the damage of the last twenty years.
The horses whinnied and strolled toward him as he walked by, but he paid them no mind. Not even a hello. He went back into the empty house. “Time to sell,” he said. The walls echoed back in agreement.
He brought the crystal down to his lab and donned the glasses. He removed the bag and stood back. It really was a magnificent piece of technology, if technology was what you’d call it. It was more like magic. He snorted.
He put his hand under the viewfinder and looked through the lens. Geometric shapes popped into view where his skin should be. He pulled his hand away and tried again. Same outcome. He raced to his supply closet and took out a sterile slide and needle. Without hesitation, he pricked his finger and dripped blood onto the slide. He placed it under the crystal cylinder. Instead of cells, he saw memories. He saw himself as a boy with shaggy brown hair, already looking into a microscope. He had wanted to be a scientist all his life. He’d always searched for the answers to the big questions.
He pulled away from the lens and stared across the room. Somewhere along his timeline, he’d closed himself off to the magic of discovery. Proof had become his religion, and only now did it dawn on him that when that happened, something in him had died. He had severed ties to mystery, and then resented Cassie for trying to bring that same sense of mystery to life in their daughter. His pride and ego and need to be right had driven a wedge into their marriage, and now he sat in the same situation with Rachel. His inability to embrace the unknown and so much of what made up his wife had ultimately driven them to opposite ends of life. They’d had a mutual desire: to raise Skylar in a stable home. But he had to admit that Rachel was right—they no longer belonged together.
He returned to his new gadget and thought for a moment. What specimens do I have? He remembered the one Ocean had given him, the cancer cells. They had been sitting in his car for three days in the hot sun. He wasn’t expecting live cells, but he was curious about what he might see.
Nothing moved under the scope, but the moment he looked into it, he was transported within, as if inside the cell itself. His field of vision was striated, with black and gray lines webbed in very dim light. It was like being in a virtual reality of thick, dark mucus. He could feel the hatred within the cell’s essence, and it affected him viscerally, as if he were being attacked. He drew back and removed the slide. He hadn’t been prepared for that; he needed a minute to recover. He went to his prep sink and splashed some cold water on his face, then went to his lab freezer. It kept specimens at just below the freezing mark, which preserved them indefinitely while still allowing for a quick thaw. He took out a bag of Skylar’s blood and rested it on the counter. As he waited for it to thaw, he returned the slide of his own blood under the crystal.
He held his breath as he flipped through compartmentalized scenes. When he focused on one, it grew larger. It seemed the “reality” of his view depended on his focus. He saw the day he and Cassie got married. His eyes saw the beauty of the day. It was perfectly sunny. Puffy white clouds were scattered in the bright blue sky. Nature was smiling. The scene quickly overlapped into the day he wed Rachel. It also was sunny, but there was a film over his eyes. He tried to wipe it away with his fingers, but it wouldn’t budge. They had come together for a different love—one for their daughter. It was a worthy love, but one that wasn’t sustainable for their entire lives. This day of departure had always sat on their timeline, waiting for them to reach it. Although painful, he understood and couldn’t find blame in Rachel, or himself. If anything, he had compassion.
He sighed and moved the slide out of the viewfinder.
Skylar’s blood had warmed to room temperature; he could take a sample now. He prepared the slide, placed it under the crystal cylinder, and peered into the viewer. Instantly he was transported into the awareness of Skylar’s blood. He lost sight of the room around him and was consumed by red walls. It felt like he was violating her privacy. He sprang up and stepped away from the scope, the tick of the clock on the wall the only noise. How does this help Skylar?
He returned to the viewer, expecting to see blood again, redness. Instead, he was transported to another time. He saw Skylar as a young girl. The world was hers to create. She was happy with her horses. He saw Argan in her life.
A burst of light shone like a sunburst, and suddenly Skylar was grown. At first Joel thought it was her wedding day: She was in a white gown tied with gold trim. Her hair was fixed with gold rods that fanned out in a crown, making it seem like golden light was shining behind her head. She was standing in water. He watched her walk deeper and deeper into the sea. “A baptism?” he asked and instantly knew he was right. A tear came to his eye. His daughter was a goddess. He saw her life path. It wasn’t meant to happen any other way.