walking again. Godiva kept a hold on my arm and fell into step with me. She twisted and then my arm was around her shoulders. She felt good there, warm, and she smelled good.
Chapter Ten
“the purpose of life is to expand. each worm intends to engulf the universe.”
As I opened the door to my little motel suite I realized that I hadn't found time to do any shopping for food to stock the kitchenette. For some reason that really bothered me. I felt like I should have something to offer Godiva. Beer, pretzels, mini pizzas made from English muffins and spaghetti sauce—something. Wasn't that what people did when they invited someone into their home? I wasn't real clear on the etiquette.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “I don't have much here.”
She didn't seem to mind, though. She sat her shopping bag on the little round table under the hanging lamp and flopped down in one of the green vinyl and wood chairs that flanked it. She smiled and slipped off her shoes.
“So...” I wasn't sure what to say.
Godiva looked up at me expectantly.
“Alice Mason. Do you figure that's her real name?”
“Real enough.” she shrugged. “It's something to call her, anyway.”
I nodded. I figured names weren't really important, so long as you had something to call people other than “hey, you!” I couldn't quite put my finger on what was important, though. Loyalty? Fealty, maybe? I was used to thinking in terms of me against the world, the idea that there might be sides and that I might be on the same side as someone else was hard to wrap my head around. “Can I trust her, do you think?”
She chewed her lip. Still a cute gesture. “I think she's honest about what she wants.”
“What's that?”
“She wants people free from the Outsiders. Free from their influence. She used to do some kind of anti-cult counseling. You know, deprogramming. I guess she found out some cults have real spirit voices running them.”
I thought about that. Yeah, it made sense. “I can't be free of Catskinner. He's part of me. He's all I've got.”
“I know.” She looked down at the floor. “What I can't understand is what Catskinner wants.”
I opened my mouth to say something—I'm not sure what—and I felt him speaking through me. “ continuity of existence. rationality of environment. silence. ”
“Safety?” suggested Godiva.
My body nodded. “ safety. food, water, air, integrity of circulatory system. sleep without vigilance for james. body of motion, body of light in parallel. ”
“What happens to you if James dies?” she asked softly.
“ unweaving. ”
“You die? You don't go back . . . someplace?”
“ there are no places, only patterns. ”
“You can only exist as long as James' . . . pattern is safe, then. Only as long as he's alive.”
“ yes. ”
“And you'll do whatever you have to do to keep him alive.”
“ yes. ”
“And what about keeping him happy?”
Silence from Catskinner. “I don't think he understands the question.” I said. “Happiness isn't something he can quantify.”
“He doesn't have to quantify it,” Godiva scowled. “He just has to respect it.”
“ i respect that james requires environmental elements that i do not perceive directly. is that happiness? ”
A blank look, then a chuckle from Godiva. “Yeah, I think that'll do as a working definition for now.”
“ then i will do what will keep james happy. ”
“Even if it means going against your own kind?”
“ i have no kind. ”
“Other outsiders, I mean.”
“ i have no kind. ”
Godiva considered that. “Are you saying that you're unique. Sui generis?”
“ yes. ”
Godiva leaned forward, looking up at my face. “Did you,” she spoke slowly, considering each word, “Catskinner, did you . . . exist prior to James?”
“ no. ”
She leaned back. “Huh. Now that's interesting.”
She pulled out a napkin wrapped bundle from her shopping bag. The rest of the pizza. I hadn't seen her
Chapter Ten
“the purpose of life is to expand. each worm intends to engulf the universe.”
As I opened the door to my little motel suite I realized that I hadn't found time to do any shopping for food to stock the kitchenette. For some reason that really bothered me. I felt like I should have something to offer Godiva. Beer, pretzels, mini pizzas made from English muffins and spaghetti sauce—something. Wasn't that what people did when they invited someone into their home? I wasn't real clear on the etiquette.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “I don't have much here.”
She didn't seem to mind, though. She sat her shopping bag on the little round table under the hanging lamp and flopped down in one of the green vinyl and wood chairs that flanked it. She smiled and slipped off her shoes.
“So...” I wasn't sure what to say.
Godiva looked up at me expectantly.
“Alice Mason. Do you figure that's her real name?”
“Real enough.” she shrugged. “It's something to call her, anyway.”
I nodded. I figured names weren't really important, so long as you had something to call people other than “hey, you!” I couldn't quite put my finger on what was important, though. Loyalty? Fealty, maybe? I was used to thinking in terms of me against the world, the idea that there might be sides and that I might be on the same side as someone else was hard to wrap my head around. “Can I trust her, do you think?”
She chewed her lip. Still a cute gesture. “I think she's honest about what she wants.”
“What's that?”
“She wants people free from the Outsiders. Free from their influence. She used to do some kind of anti-cult counseling. You know, deprogramming. I guess she found out some cults have real spirit voices running them.”
I thought about that. Yeah, it made sense. “I can't be free of Catskinner. He's part of me. He's all I've got.”
“I know.” She looked down at the floor. “What I can't understand is what Catskinner wants.”
I opened my mouth to say something—I'm not sure what—and I felt him speaking through me. “ continuity of existence. rationality of environment. silence. ”
“Safety?” suggested Godiva.
My body nodded. “ safety. food, water, air, integrity of circulatory system. sleep without vigilance for james. body of motion, body of light in parallel. ”
“What happens to you if James dies?” she asked softly.
“ unweaving. ”
“You die? You don't go back . . . someplace?”
“ there are no places, only patterns. ”
“You can only exist as long as James' . . . pattern is safe, then. Only as long as he's alive.”
“ yes. ”
“And you'll do whatever you have to do to keep him alive.”
“ yes. ”
“And what about keeping him happy?”
Silence from Catskinner. “I don't think he understands the question.” I said. “Happiness isn't something he can quantify.”
“He doesn't have to quantify it,” Godiva scowled. “He just has to respect it.”
“ i respect that james requires environmental elements that i do not perceive directly. is that happiness? ”
A blank look, then a chuckle from Godiva. “Yeah, I think that'll do as a working definition for now.”
“ then i will do what will keep james happy. ”
“Even if it means going against your own kind?”
“ i have no kind. ”
“Other outsiders, I mean.”
“ i have no kind. ”
Godiva considered that. “Are you saying that you're unique. Sui generis?”
“ yes. ”
Godiva leaned forward, looking up at my face. “Did you,” she spoke slowly, considering each word, “Catskinner, did you . . . exist prior to James?”
“ no. ”
She leaned back. “Huh. Now that's interesting.”
She pulled out a napkin wrapped bundle from her shopping bag. The rest of the pizza. I hadn't seen her
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