Born Free


  “I’m sorry, what? Kill God?” Abbey exclaimed. Fate – thin fingers steepled before his face – smiled ever so slightly. He might have known the reaction but the comic timing seemed all new to him.

  “That’s right,” he replied simply, without proffering any more explanation.

  “You’re going to have to give me a little more to go on with this one,” Abbey said, unsure how even to begin processing such a request.

  “God,” Fate started, lacking – for once – drama where drama truly belonged, “has been a celestial pain in my backside since he had that glorious notion of free will.”

  “I can see how that might be a problem for you-” Abbey interjected.

  “Yes. So I need him… taken care of.”

  “I see,” Abbey said, not seeing at all. There were too many questions to even begin addressing them.

  “You have a gift, Abbey,” Fate continued unprompted, evidently sparing Abbey the irksome task she was currently struggling with to find words, skipping straight to the answers, “and it is your gift that will be the ultimate nail in a coffin that has been unbelievably difficult to shut.”

  Fate reached forwards slowly and pushed a little button on the intercom on his desk.

  “Effey, Mr. Ecksheart will arrive in forty-two seconds, if you could just tell him to take a seat and I’ll be with him in just a moment.”

  “Of course, sir,” came the tinny response. Even through the airwaves she screamed bitch to Abbey.

  “So let me get this straight,” Abbey said, feeling as though she were attempting to align the world’s biggest stack of papers by simply hitting them against a desk, “you want me to end the big guy upstairs?”

  Fate paused for a fraction before saying simply “Yes.”

  “And even if I were to accept this… task, what makes you think I could?”

  “Abbey,” Fate said, leaning forwards, as though to communicate a warmth or closeness his presence simply disallowed through conventional means, “I know about your condition. I know that doctors spent years trying to give it a name, a meaning, an excuse, through extended bouts or psycho-babble. They can call it whatever they want, but you and I both know what you’re missing. What you were born without.”

  “A conscience,” Abbey blurted out, almost unwillingly, flooding with a strange relief as soon as she finally verbalized what she’d always felt.

  “How the hell can Fate run late? It’s preposterous!” Came the voice of an irritated Mr. Ecksheart, Abbey presumed, from the lobby outside. It kind of spoiled the moment.

  “Precisely,” Fate said, ignoring the interruption, barely acknowledging it with a tiny smile as he leaned back in his luxurious chair, “God’s ultimate failsafe. The safety switch of the masses. Out of billions, only you slipped the net. Only you were born free – truly free.”

  Abbey didn’t know what to say, so she nodded inanely instead. This was certainly turning out to be a day to remember. 

~ by Joseph Blame on March 20, 2011.

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