The Fifth Healer

54.

Finally, I figure out what to say. "I don't like to talk about my parents."

"I understand," says Dr. Khan. I sense that hidden undercurrent of empathy bubbling to the surface. "And I respect your wishes."

I try to keep my face placid even as the tension breaks away inside, a dam breaking in a welcome release. I don't have to talk about them. Good. I don't want to think about them, either. It's because of them my connection with Ainsley has been severed.

It takes a little over twelve hours to reach Athens, so we arrive at 2:12 a.m.

It's still dark outside, but the horizon now contrasts with a soft glow, the preamble to sunrise. A gradually increasing building density, and then the appearance of traffic lights signal we've entered the city proper. Sloan reduces our speed minimally as he whips through narrow streets lined with parked cars. I notice the vehicles here are all much smaller than what I saw in DC.

"Stop off at the stadium, Sloan," says Dr. Khan.

He grunts in acknowledgment.

"I want to show you something that will help you understand why you ran a marathon," says Dr. Khan. "But you need to see it now, before it gets crowded."

Two blocks later, Sloan slows and pulls to the shoulder. He parks the car but leaves it idling as he opens the doors for us to exit.

The first thing I notice is a one-legged panhandler with a bushy gray beard sitting on a piece of cardboard, leaning against a concrete wall in front of where we are parked. A below-knee prosthetic leg, an older model but not so much different from mine, free stands on the cardboard in front of him, a few Euro notes stuffed in the socket. Clever-using a prosthesis to collect donations. I smirk and catch Ainsley smiling, too.

The impoverished amputee watches with a blank expression as we unload from the car. It's an odd time to be awake, and it makes me wonder if he is not only broken but perhaps gifted. There must be Fifths out there, going about their lives without recognizing their gifts for what they are, never having a Dr. Khan show up and open their eyes.

The second thing I notice are the stray cats. They are everywhere, prowling, grooming themselves, resting in nooks and dark places.

Dr. Khan motions our attention to the other side of the street. We step aside from the car to get a clear view of where she's pointing. Across the road is an enormous structure. Its white color reflects a deep blue in the moonlight and distant, diffused street lamps. As we cross the empty road, I realize it's a stadium shaped like a giant U, with the open side facing us. It's similar in size to any pro sports arena, but for a sense of monolithic minimalism, there are no visible scoreboards, advertisements, or box seats. Uniform white stone blocks form the rows of spectator benches, the stairs leading up between them, and the outer walls of the arena. When we reach the widely spaced metal bars of the fence, I can make out bits of green moss peeking between some of the stones, the only hint of color in the structure.

In the center of the complex is a track and a grassy playing field. At the top of the open side of the U, near our position outside the fence, sits a small podium-three levels of varying height, labeled simply "II," "I," and "III."

"Is this...the original Olympic stadium?" asks Ainsley.

Dr. Khan says, "The origin of the Olympic Games is usually traced to another Greek city-Olympia. Hence the name. But this was the site of the Panathenaic Games, a precursor to the modern Olympics."

"Before the Olympics?" asks Wally. "Like a long time ago?"

"The definition of a 'long time' depends on one's frame of reference, as we know from Einstein's theory of relativity," says Dr. Khan, a frustratingly discursive answer that earns her a well-deserved look from Ainsley. "That said, to be specific, the Panathenaic Games began here in the sixth century B.C. The first stadium was built here in the fourth century B.C."

"This stadium has been here two and a half thousand years?" asks Ainsley.

"A stadium. But not this one. The stadium was restored for the recent Olympics in Athens," says Dr. Khan. She adds, almost to herself, "But it was better off before the restoration."

"What do you mean?" asks Ainsley.

"It is a disgrace to alter a place so sacred to the history of chronopathy," says Dr. Khan. "Additionally, Greece's currency trouble put the Olympic planning committee in debt. Corners were cut. Suffice to say, the original stadium lasted thousands of years, but I predict this one will not stand even for decades."

Wally nods as if imagining the space filled with thousands of spectators.

"Is it true that everyone did the Olympics naked back then?" he asks.

"Well, the competitors were nude," says Dr. Khan. "Gymnasium does come from the Greek word naked. And in answer to your next question, no, only males were allowed to compete."

The light is too dim to tell if Wally is blushing. Then again, it remains to be seen whether he's even capable of being embarrassed or shamed.

Dr. Khan continues, "We stopped here because, according to tradition, the marathon was the first use of chronopathy. An Athenian soldier named Pheidippides ran twenty-five miles from the city of Marathon to Athens, bringing with him a strand of hair belonging to a general pierced by a sword on the field of battle."

"So what happened?" asks Wally.

"He collapsed and died of exhaustion."

Wally snorts, no doubt thinking how he completed a marathon only yesterday, but unlike Pheidippides, there was no dying at the end.

Dr. Khan says, "But thanks to that soldier, the general's wounds were healed, and he returned to the fight. Later, athletes would race the same route from Marathon to Athens in honor of the god Helios and, though unaware of it, also in celebration of the beginning of chronopathy. The race finished right-Wally, what are you doing? Wally! Stop!"

Wally has hoisted himself over the fence, vaulting it with one arm planted on the top, and is now running across the track toward that podium. He leaps up on the center platform and raises his hand in victory.

"I am the champion!" he yells into the empty night.

Dr. Khan looks around, but fortunately, the streets remain deserted.

Wally turns away from us, facing the empty stone bleachers wrapping around him.

"I am victorious! I am Wally Wang, marathon gold medalist! Number one healer! First-degree chronopath! Bow before me, humble citizens!"