The irony is that they built this entire program based on my findings. If I had told them how scared I am of what will come, they never would have given me the freedom to do what I’m doing now. The lab is the only place I find comfort in and I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful for Themis, to be in her company every day. I feel drawn to her. She isn’t of this world either. She doesn’t belong here any more than I do. We’re both out of place and out of time, and the more I learn about her, the closer I feel to understanding what really happened to me.
I know everyone is worried about me. My mother told me she would pray for me. You don’t do that for someone who’s doing great. I didn’t want to upset her, so I said thank you. My faith has never been really strong, but even if it were, I know there’s no God coming to help me. There’s no redemption for what I’ve done. I should be dead. I died. I was brought back by what I assume is advanced technology, but you might as well call it witchcraft. Not too long ago, the Church would have burned someone like me.
I may believe in God, but I’m at war with him. I’m a scientist, I try to answer questions, one at a time, so there’s a little less room for Him as the answer. I plant my flag, and inch by inch, I take away His kingdom. It’s odd, but none of this has ever occurred to me before. I never even saw a real contradiction between science and religion. I see it now, I see it clear as day.
I’ve crossed that line we’re not supposed to cross. I died. And I’m still here. I cheated death. I took away God’s power.
I killed God and I feel empty inside.
FILE NO. 1408
INTERVIEW WITH BRIGADIER GENERAL EUGENE GOVENDER, COMMANDER, EARTH DEFENSE CORPS
Location: Waldorf Astoria Hotel, New York, NY
—You should hurry, Eugene.
—How long have we known each other?
—Fourteen years this September.
—Fourteen years. And in all that time, have I ever, once, given you permission to call me Eugene?
—“General” seems … inappropriate after what we have been through.
—It does, doesn’t it? Imagine how it feels to have absolutely nothing to call you.
—Not that I do not enjoy hearing you ramble endlessly about my anonymity, but you are addressing the United Nations General Assembly in less than one hour. I know how much you loathe speeches, so if you require my help, now would be a good time.
—Then why don’t you give the address? You’re the one who got me into this mess in the first place.
—Let me hear your opening.
—Where’s that damn piece of paper? Oh, here it is. Have you seen my—
—They are on the nightstand.
—Thank you. It goes like this: “I know many of you are afraid. I know you want answers.”
—I meant what is the beginning of your speech?
—That is the beginning of my damn speech.
—Eugene, you are not talking to cadets at the academy. This is the UN General Assembly. There is protocol. You normally begin by naming everyone. Mr. President, Mr. Secretary General, members of the General Assembly, ladies and gentlemen.
—Fine. I’ll start with that, then I’ll say “I know many of you are afraid. I know you want answers.”
—No, you have to say something profound first, something inspiring.
—Something inspiring? There’s a giant goddamn robot in the middle of London. What people want is for me to get rid of it. There’s nothing profound about that.
—Then say something completely unrelated but profound. The last address I heard in person was from a US President. He said something like: “We come together at a crossroads between war and peace; between disorder and integration; between fear and hope.”
—Very well then. Mr. President, Mr. Secretary General, members of the General Assembly, ladies and gentlemen. Those of you who know me know I am a man of few words. Those who know me well also know how much I loathe speeches. So with your permission, I will steal my opening remarks from a former president of the United States. He said: “We come together at a crossroads between war and peace; between disorder and integration; between fear and hope.”
—That is—
—I was joking. I have a quote from another fellow who had a better way with words, I can just move it up. After that, you’ll have to settle for some words of my own. His name is Thomas Henry Huxley. He was a scientist in the early days of modern biology. He said: “The known is finite, the unknown infinite; intellectually we stand on an islet in the midst of an illimitable ocean of inexplicability. Our business in every generation is to reclaim a little more land.” Almost a decade ago, when Themis was revealed to the world, we realized that ocean was a lot bigger than we thought, and what transpired this morning in London has made our islet of certainty feel so small that we may wonder if we even have enough room to stand on.
Now can I say it?
—I know many of you are afraid.
—Don’t make fun of me.
I know many of you are afraid. I know you want answers. Let me be blunt, I don’t have the answers you’re looking for. Not today. I also have a confession to make. I … am also afraid. I’m afraid because I don’t know what that thing is, or what it wants. I don’t know if there are more coming and I really don’t know if we could do anything about it if there were. There is a lot we don’t know. A little bit of fear is only healthy if you ask me.
—How reassuring. I feel better already.