Authors: Karen Haber
Cheers and approving whistles rocked the stadium.
Ginny Quinlan broke from her paralysis and began to run desperately for the wings with Don Torrance right behind her. To her credit, Barsi, alone, stood her ground.
Calmly, coolly, as though she were reaching for a cucumber sandwich, Alanna scooped the three of them up in her telekinetic grasp and held them motionless by the edge of the stage. “We’ll deal with you later,” she said. “After the sharing.”
Drawing Alanna to my side, I launched into the traditional steps of the group sharing. “Open your minds,” I said. “Open your hearts.”
“We will,” the group chanted. “We have.d. gro”
“Share with me now.”
The mental circuit sizzled with energy as I hopped from mind to mind, sealing the coil behind me. I felt like a young man again, full of juice and ready for anything. We floated together, all of us, wordlessly, blissfully. The familiar pleasure of it dazzled me and for a moment I was lost in wondrous harmony.
But a gentle mental jab from Alanna reminded me of my serious, primary purpose here. Carefully I moved from mind to mind, healing, soothing. And then I addressed them as though they were a single entity.
Beloved friends, I am back among you, unharmed and healthy. Once again I shall lead Better World, with your help and with your love. Let us give thanks for our deliverance and forgive those who lied to us and misled us. I ask you now to forgive and forget.
No
, came the groupmind’s response.
They hurt us. They lied to us. We will never forgive them. Never.
I pushed my point gently but firmly.
If we do not forgive, then we are no better than those who would plot against us. Better World must teach forgiveness, understanding and tolerance. These are all precepts of the healing way. Embrace them. Employ them.
We did before
, they replied,
and we’ve been repaid in pain and falsehood.
There’s always some risk in trying something new. We are attempting to chart a new way, a new path. Mistakes may be made. But our successes will outweigh them. We have a great responsibility to share what we have learned here, to offer our comfort to the needy world, to mutants and nonmutants alike. We need one another and we can help one another. Rick has shown us that, together, we are stronger and better than apart. We must open our arms and our minds to one another, as Rick wanted. Sharing is the bridge to greater understanding. Sharing is the only way.
Humanity has been divided for too long between mutant and nonmutant. Let us be the connection, the bridge, the path to one another. This is just the beginning. We have great days ahead of us. We will build upon this foundation, together, sharing and growing. Sharing is the key. We know that now and we will spread the word around the world. Sharing is the only way.
A thousand minds sighed and moved as one as they replied:
Sharing is the only way.
Ginny Quinlan and Donald Torrance resigned immediately and Alanna, who had long experience at both public relations and financial management, temporarily assumed their duties.
A contrite Barsi asked for a private meeting with me, and after some hesitation, I agreed. Meekly, she came to my office, dressed in somber tones of green. No bells were in her hair now. She looked subdued and even woeful.
“What do you want?” I said sharply.
“To apologize.” Her voice was so small it was almost a whisper. “Oh, Julian, I’m so ashamed. I was a complete fool to believe you were growing incapable of running this place. But Ginny was so persuasive. She’d almost convinced me to act as a caretaker once you’d been dispossessed. I honestly believed we were acting in the best interests of Better World.”
I refused to allow myself to soften. “And what about the murder attempt?”
Tears glistened irs ustifn her dark eyes and she wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I knew nothing of it, nothing, until Ginny announced your death. Believe me, Julian. I never could have endorsed anything like that. Never! I was stunned, horrified, when they announced your death. Then I knew that what she and Don were doing was wrong but it was too late and I thought you were already dead. And worse, that in my naiveté, my stupidity, I had helped to kill you.” She wept openly.
I let her cry for a while until I grew uncomfortable. “And what do you want now?”
“To stay at Better World, if you’ll have me. To gain your trust again, somehow. I don’t care if you want me to scrub pots in the kitchen or shovel manure in the fields. Please, Julian.” She clutched at my hand. “Please don’t send me away.”
I pulled my hand from under hers and turned to stare out the window at the mountains. What was I to do? Was I a fool not to order her out of my sight? Could I ever trust her again?
“If you don’t want me to stay, I’ll understand,” she said. “I even thought of leaving, just slipping away. But I couldn’t do it. Not without seeing you and at least asking your forgiveness.”
I stared at her sweet face and, for a moment, saw my long-lost Star again. Perhaps I was getting old and foolish—or sentimental. But I relented. “All right,” I said. “You can stay. But I’m going to keep my eye on you.”
She reached for me as though to hug me but I waved her away. I wasn’t ready to resume our old friendship. Not quite yet. Barsi was a sweet and essentially benign person whom I was certain had been influenced by others far more ambitious than she. All the same, my faith in her had been shaken. She would have to win it back. And I suspected that she would.
Despite the best efforts of our healers, Matthew never completely recovered from the sad and dangerous episode in the Roman arena. I blame myself for this as much as anyone else: there were perilous flaws in the training program that I should have noticed long before Matthew’s accident.
Today we train our apprentices much more carefully and safely. When I send them forth in teams across the country and around the world to hold sharings I’m confident that they are well equipped to protect themselves and those with whom they commune. In this way we spread comfort, healing, and connection among mutants and nonmutants, true believers and skeptics. And it’s no longer necessary for anyone to worship Rick, much less show any knowledge of him at all. The cult of personality is over. What is important is that each member of the groupmind be willing to open, to share strengths, to cherish and heal one another. We are a healing organization.
It quickly became apparent that Alanna was indispensable to Better World, and to my surprise, with little urging, she agreed to move to Better City and, what’s more, to occupy the lower floors of my residence. I had begun to find the building a bit large and lonely, and the sounds of another living, breathing presence were very welcome indeed. I’ve come to enjoy Alanna’s astringent humor and rely upon her incisive intelligence. What a pleasure it is, late in life, to have the company of a close relative who is also a friend and peer.
So we live now, peacefully, brother and sister, partners deeply committed to bringing mutants and nonmutants together in happy harmony.
Every now and then the specter of Rick pops in from the past, creating a stir. As recently as yesterday he surprised me in my study as I was preparing for a group sharing. He s shen the seemed young, so terribly young—wearing his leather pants and his ruffled white shirt from his wild days long ago.
“Hi, Rick,” I said. “Nice to see you again.”
Our eyes met and we stared at each other for a moment. Then I said, “Well? How do you think we’re doing?”
Of course he couldn’t respond aloud, couldn’t say a word. And I’m not certain that he really heard me at all. But he smiled. And when I waved at him it seemed to me that he winked. I would swear that he had. Then, with a nod, he disappeared. But I won’t miss him. I know that I’ll see him again.
We have gone on to great days at Better World. The mutants and nonmutants have been drawn closer than ever as trust builds and grows. I feel certain our combined strengths will benefit humanity in ways even I can’t yet imagine. The groupmind’s potential is extraordinary. For a moment I yearn to have a touch of Rick’s magic, to leap through time and see the years to come.
But no. I’m content to have been here at the beginning, to have provided the linkage and helped to show the way. Never, ever, did I expect to become that linchpin, that intersection point. Nor did I think that my brother, Rick, would amount to anything, much less a demi-messiah. But I did my best and so, I guess, did he: the changer and the changed.
Am I glad? Yes, yes I am. For both of us. Very glad, indeed. And grateful and even hopeful: for all of roiling, boiling humanity, young and old, male and female, mutant and non. Rick bless us and keep us, every one.
∞∞ E N D ∞∞