I tucked away the pouch quickly. Chet took a little longer to put away his ash—instead staring at it for a time, glowing and twinkling in his palm.
“So, the Path of Elders,” I said to break the odd mood. “Is there anything we need to do to prepare for it?”
“Not that I know of,” he said. “I visited this first stop one time, but decided not to go into the cavern. I feel embarrassed to admit that, after seeing your excitement.”
I stared out at the garden fragment. Yeah, it was moving more slowly than Nedd did at mess on an early morning shift. It would take a long time to get here. “It feels like the quests that happened in the old stories. That’s why I’m excited.”
“You put a lot of stock in those stories.”
“My grandmother told them to me when I was a child. They kind of just…stuck.”
“I find that admirable,” Chet said. “But I warn you not to raise your expectations too much. Life isn’t always like one of those stories.”
“I know,” I said, still staring over that beautiful field. “But…stories say something. About us, and about where we came from. They’re a reminder that we have a past, a history. And a future.”
When I was growing up, Gran-Gran’s stories had been my shield. Against the names I was called, against the things people said about my father. Against my own terror that all those things—particularly the ones about me—were true.
In the stories, there was a sense of justice. Everything had a purpose; every little bit meant something. I thought if those heroes and heroines from the stories could keep going forward into the darkness, so could I.
I might have clung to them a little too tightly. With how strange everything had been lately, perhaps I was seeking some kind of stability. Or some kind of guide…
“I can understand that,” Chet said. “It’s odd—this place has stolen from me who I was, but I still know things. I know what a burrito is, though I’ve never eaten one in here. I can list the names of the first human colony worlds. And I remember…stories. I partially decided on my name due to the tales of the old hero Chet Cannister.”
“Oh, those are good,” I said. “But I like the older ones best. Heroes like Odysseus.”
“Or Hercules.”
“Yeah,” I said, slamming my fist into my other hand. “Or Satan.”
Chet blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Satan?” I said. “The hero?”
“The…hero.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Gran-Gran told me the story. Satan got thrown into a place of fire, but he was like, ‘Hey, everyone. It doesn’t matter, so long as we have each other. We can make this place as good as any paradise.’ Then he volunteered to infiltrate the enemy’s world and went on this big quest through the Abyss.”
“Now, my memory—as I’ve warned you—isn’t great,” Chet said. “But that sounds like the old poem Paradise Lost. I…think you might have misinterpreted it.”
“What? Who do you think was the hero of that story?”
“Adam and Eve.”
“Those losers? They didn’t do anything but sit around! Everyone else had flaming swords and dramatic battles!”
Chet grinned. “Well, that’s one way to interpret it. And what do I know? I only know my own name because of the patch I found on my uniform.”
I made a pillow out of my jacket. As I did, M-Bot hovered over beside me. “Ummm…” he said.
“What?” I asked.
“…I think he might be correct about Paradise Lost.”
“Read it again,” I said. “You really expect me to believe that—in a story with people named Beelzebub and Moloch who live in Pand?monium—the author wanted us to root for someone named Eve?”
Some things are obvious. Unless you’re a robot, I guess.
“Do you want me to do what I did last time?” the robot asked me more softly. “Just in case?”
I nodded, then lay back, contemplating the day we’d had. I couldn’t remember another day in my recent life that had been so thoroughly enjoyable. That made me feel guilty though. Jorgen and the others were fighting for their lives, and I was investigating swamps and playing explorer?
I would have to stay focused. Tomorrow we started the Path of Elders, and hopefully I’d finally have some answers. Or at the very least I’d learn the right questions.
M-Bot woke me the next “morning,” and I stretched, finding the garden fragment hovering an easy step from our own. My memories of the “night” contained only ordinary dreams. I wished I’d been able to find Jorgen and at least deliver a report, but I was so exhausted that my attempt didn’t get far.