Rules are rules, said the Brit.
But why, may I ask, said Mr. Bevins, should there be different rules for children than for the rest of us? It does not seem fair.
From the carapace came outraged rebukes in diverse languages, many of which were utterly strange to us.
Please do not speak to us of fairness, the woman said.
Fairness, bah, said the Vermonter.
Did I murder Elmer? the woman said.
You did, said the Brit.
I did, said the woman. Was I born with just those predispositions and desires that would lead me, after my whole preceding life (during which I had killed exactly no one), to do just that thing? I was. Was that my doing? Was that fair? Did I ask to be born licentious, greedy, slightly misanthropic, and to find Elmer so irritating? I did not. But there I was.
And here you are, said the Brit.
Here I am, quite right, she said.
And here I am, said the Vermonter. Did I ask to be born with a desire to have sex with children? I don’t remember doing so, there in my mother’s womb. Did I fight that urge? Mightily. Well, somewhat mightily. As mightily as I could. As mightily as someone could who had been born with that particular affliction, in that particular measure. Upon leaving that previous place, did I attempt to make that case, to those who arraigned me?
I expect that you did, the woman said.
Of course I did, the Vermonter said indignantly.
And how did they respond? asked the Brit.
Not very well, the Vermonter said.
We have had a great deal of time to think upon these matters, said the woman.
Rather too much, said the Vermonter.
Listen, the bass lisper intoned. At the time Marie and I did away with that baby, we felt ourselves to be working in the service of good. Honestly! We loved one another; the baby was not quite right; was an impediment to our love; its (his) stunted development impeded the natural expression of our love (we could not travel, could not dine out, were rarely given the slightest degree of privacy) and so it seemed (to us, at that time) that to remove the negative influence that was that baby (by dropping him into Furniss Creek) would free us up; to be more loving, and be more fully in the world, and would relieve him of the suffering entailed in being forevermore not quite right; would, that is, free him up from his suffering as well, and maximize the total happiness.
It seemed that way to you, the Brit said.
It did, it truly did, the bass lisper said.
Does it seem that way to you now? the woman asked.
Less so, the bass lisper said sadly.
Then your punishment is having the desired effect, the woman said.
the reverend everly thomas
We were as we were! the bass lisper barked. How could we have been otherwise? Or, being that way, have done otherwise? We were that way, at that time, and had been led to that place, not by any innate evil in ourselves, but by the state of our cognition and our experience up until that moment.
By Fate, by Destiny, said the Vermonter.
By the fact that time runs in only one direction, and we are borne along by it, influenced precisely as we are, to do just the things that we do, the bass lisper said.
And then are cruelly punished for it, said the woman.
Our regiment was being badly cut up by the Baluches, the Brit said. But then the tide turned, and a mess of them surrendered to us, with a white flag, and, well—down into the ditch they went, and the men fired, upon my command (none of them unhappily, mind you), and we threw in their white flag on top of the savages and covered them up. How could I have done otherwise? With time flowing in only one direction and myself made just as I was? With my short temper and my notions of manhood and honor, my schoolboy history of being beaten to within an inch of my life by three older brothers, that rifle feeling so beautiful in my hands and our enemies appearing so loathsome? How was I (how are any of us) to do other than that which we, at that time, actually do?
And did that argument persuade? the woman said.
You know very well, you tart, that it did not! the Brit said. For here I am.
Here we all are, said the Vermonter.
And ever shall be, said the Brit.
Nothing to be done about it, said the bass lisper.
Nothing ever to have been done about it, said the woman.
roger bevins iii
Glancing over, I saw a look pass over the Reverend’s face—a flicker of resolve, or defiance.
hans vollman
To be grouped with these, accepting one’s sins so passively, even proudly, with no trace of repentance?
I could not bear it; must I, even now, be beyond all hope?
(Perhaps, I thought, this is faith: to believe our God ever receptive to the smallest good intention.) the reverend everly thomas
Enough, the Vermonter said.
Down to business, said the woman. We have wasted too much effort on this one already.
The previous one? said the Brit. The girl? Much more amenable.
Wonderful child, said the woman. Completely passive.
Never gave us a bit of trouble, said the Brit.