At the Seams

Chapter 18: Madness

Chapter 18: Madness

As Mary and Karn make their way through the tall grass, Karn alone speaks, first enthusiastically yakking, then resorting to taunts and jeers when Mary does not share its social inclinations, then sulking and mumbling when she flat out ignores it. After a few minutes of silence, Karn tries again. "You have all these questions. Why aren't you asking them?"

"You keep saying I will find all the answers in here. Why should I ask questions?"

"Why not?"

"Maybe I've decided I don't want to know. I appeared to freely choose to come here and embark on this crazy journey; but, is an only choice a free one? You tricked me, didn't you?"

Karn chortles. When it speaks, it sounds self-satisfied. "No! Well, maybe just a little. Really, you would have taken nearly any choice over remaining in your busted body. Had I offered to provide you a working arm with which to cut your throat, you likely would have accepted. But, I offered you this place, never telling you what waited for you here, or at the end. Do you want to go back?"

"Definitely not," Mary says firmly. Then, less sure of herself, "Could you have fixed me? You said you could use my whole brain; could you have let me out?"

Karn laughs at her, of course. "That's the same as asking if I could un-erupt a volcano or un-inspire an artist. It's a stupid question, and one you wouldn’t ask if you were as prepared as you claim to be. Silliness, you thinking you understood this early. We have much to do before you meet comprehension."

They move for a while in silence, their disconcerting destination becoming clearer as it grows closer. Mary now easily distinguishes the wall beyond the buildings. The cliff face is unbroken, encircling the massive meadow and hill completely. The only chink in the rock is the entrance to Mary's cave, to which Mary never again wishes to return. The only possible destination, otherwise, remains the subdued farm buildings just before the cliff. The house and windmill unsettle Mary; she cannot yet say why, though she is certain she will learn.

Mary thinks about Sam. Her memories of their final moments are vivid, his strangled sobs echoing in her ears as if he were right next to her. Mary's heart twists, as always in her consideration of Sam's anguish. She is glad to know she is not permanently numb. Weary of her own head, Mary speaks. "Karn, will Sam survive without me?"

Karn stalls before answering, retribution for her earlier silence. "Who can know?"

"Aren't you the great and powerful Karn, great philosopher of the un-real and knower of the universes?"

"What the crap, Mary? I am ancient, and have seen more than your miniscule mind could imagine in a lifetime. However, I never claimed to prophesy."

"You seemed pretty certain about my future," Mary retorts.

"Only as certain as you yourself were. You signed your own death warrant, remember?"

Mary says nothing. Arguing with Karn had only been a distraction, anyway; Sam had been the point. "Do you understand love, Karn?"

Karn falters. "Yes." Mary waits for more. After an extended lull, Karn resumes. "I understand love as it exists in its natural state."

"Which is?"

"Not something you can grasp. Love is one of those interesting things that become corrupted within the human context. So, yes, I understand it. But, what do you mean when you say 'love?' Every human means something different because love, like the view, depends on the window from which you look."

"So, is that a 'yes' or a 'no' to my original question?"

"Neither. That is a 'this is a stupid question,'" Karn says, disdain blooming in its voice.