“It’s been seven Earth months now,” Mentor said.
“Yes.” I wondered just where this conversation was going.
“Is their world changing?”
“Slowly.”
“Will it be enough?”
“For a renaissance?” I asked. “No, but—”
“A step in the right direction, at least?” I was rattled. She always did that to me. Were all Drones so easily intimidated, or just me?
“I think so. I hope so.” I paused, took a moment to try and calm my voice and stop shaking. “I need more time.” I wished I didn’t sound like I was begging.
“Your Grand Council review can’t be postponed.”
I stifled a cry. Everything depended on that review. Banishment, that’s what I faced. I’d lose my career, have no hope of advancing to a position where I could release my family from bondage and send them home. Unless I could pull off some sort of miracle.
I felt hot all over, and then suddenly shivered. My chest tightened until I could hardly breathe. Oh no. I was having one of those attacks. What did humans call them? Panic attacks. That was it. The unfamiliar dread grew and threatened, then subsided only to swell again. We were much better off up here without emotion. Much better off.
Mentor must have sensed my fear for her tone was gentler. “So, she’s not the right human after all?”
What could I do? It was too late to find a replacement. Besides, Em was good and the world loved her.
“She does what she has to. She’s smart and quick to learn. She uses the power I give her wisely. And, she’s doing things I wouldn’t have thought of. Effective things.” I knew I was protesting too much.
“You have decided her reward?” Reward? Did that mean Mentor thought Em was the right person after all? Why didn’t she just say so? “Well?”
I didn’t answer. My mind was spinning. So much to be done. Where to move next? What would be most effective, most impress the Grand Council?
“Well?” She snapped out the word.
Impatience? She wasn’t supposed to feel emotion any more than I was. Oh Guardian. I’d obviously annoyed her no end.
“Em worries all the time,” I mumbled. “I don’t want her to suffer so.”
“You have a soft heart.” Mentor’s voice was harsh.
Oh great, I obviously shouldn’t have admitted that, shouldn’t have let my “human” side show. I paced, shifted my gaze from Mentor to Earth and back again.
“Help Em and you help yourself,” Mentor said.
“How? What exactly am I allowed to do?” I hated the pleading tone in my voice.
“Whatever you deem necessary.” And, with that, Mentor was gone.
I stared at the spot where she had been. Think, you fool. Think! Maybe Em’s natural instincts could provide some answers. I looked to Earth, searched for her. A flutter of my eyelids brought the planet into focus. Another flutter enlarged the area I wanted to see—her home.
“Hi,” the little boy from next door called out.
Jolted from her daze, Em called back, “Hi Noah.”
“Me and my dad are power washing,” Noah said.
She chuckled as she watched him. Clad in a T-shirt, shorts, rubber boots that reached his knees, and a yellow hard hat that fell over his eyes, he struggled doggedly with the garden hose.
“Boy, your dad sure is lucky to have such a good helper.”
And that’s how I found her. Sitting in a wicker chair on a small front porch, her feet propped on the rail of a long tile bench. A half- empty beer mug with a wedge of lime perched on the rim in easy reach. A newspaper dangled from her left hand and she chewed absentmindedly on the arm of her reading glasses. Worrying. About the world, about the things she had seen and the things she had done. Wondering. Where she would be sent next, if she would succeed? Wondering if she could ever recapture the joyful optimism of youth.
I watched as the burden of her “job” crushed her natural joy. I had chosen her; put her in the untenable position of savior. I’d had to do it. My career, my life, depended on this assignment, but that didn’t make me feel less guilt. I liked her too much to let her struggle alone.
Whatever you deem necessary, Mentor had said.
Em dropped the paper and glasses, clutched at her head as if in great pain. I had to do something.
I wished… Ah, damn! I wished I’d never heard of wishes.
Now I didn’t know if I had been right to open her Madame life to this one. And I still hadn’t decided if, as Madame, she should know about her real life. Could a human possibly bear the weight of two existences?