That wasn’t any Decker.
It was Valentino Prince, the very first Decker whom Joaquin called when Death-Cast went live.
All isn’t as well as it can be, of course. While there were record-high new subscribers after the first night, polls are still showing that millions are uncomfortable. Some even believe that Death-Cast personally hired the skull-mask killer to coordinate an attack in Times Square, as if the program needed to sell fear to make the service a success. Joaquin has no affiliation with that killer—or any of the other aggressors wearing skull masks that evening who caused havoc—and while the killer was responsible for the very first recorded death on inception night, Joaquin fears it won’t be the last time they stage an attack as an act of protest. Unfortunately, Joaquin still doesn’t have a magic crystal ball to divine these sorts of things so the mystery lives on.
As will Death-Cast.
There’s a tragic irony in how all the work Joaquin has done to get other people to live their lives has prevented Joaquin from enjoying his own. He’s only been able to see his wife and son over dinner, which is essentially his breakfast since he spends most of the day sleeping off his graveyard shift or busy on numerous calls. Joaquin simply can’t afford to not be at headquarters after the opening-day fiasco where twelve registered Deckers met their ends without notice. Haunted, Joaquin puts aside the mounting paperwork and leaves his office. He needs to see that while he isn’t able to go where he wishes, doors are opening for others.
Joaquin stands in the call center where his heralds are fulfilling his life’s mission.
There’s been so much heartbreak and loss across the world, and within Joaquin’s own world, to get to this point. To reach these astonishing new heights with a view no one in their right minds ever imagined could be made a reality.
While Death-Cast can only tell someone when they will die, they can’t predict how someone’s life will change on their End Day. The Decker must make those discoveries themselves by living with the fullest of hearts, down to the last beat.
August 7, 2010
Orion
11:17 a.m.
Death-Cast hasn’t called because Valentino Prince saved my life.
I’m finally back home, bracing myself for the first night in my bed since sharing it with him. It’s one of those firsts that doubled as lasts, and I love it and I hate it. Thankfully I won’t be alone. Dalma and Scarlett are going to keep me company in sleeping bags.
A new family isn’t all Valentino left behind.
Upon arriving home today, Scarlett surprised me with a photo album containing all our memory-lane pictures. I’d already seen them from going through them together at the hospital, telling Scarlett all the stories from Valentino’s End Day, but now I have my own collection to hold close since Scarlett is keeping her brother’s camera. I love all our pictures together, especially the ones from the High Line and Times Square, our very first and our very last.
So much life happened in between.
I’m staring at the pictures of Valentino strutting during his subway runway. I’m tempted to send them to his agent so she knows what the world has missed out on by not believing in Death-Cast, but she doesn’t deserve to see him in all his glory.
Even in death, I’m still protective of Valentino.
There’s a knock on my door for the thousandth time in the one hour I’ve been home.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me,” Dalma says from the other side.
“Me too,” Scarlett says.
I’m not really in the mood for company right now just because. I was warned that mood swings and depression are side effects of heart surgery, as if that’s what’s got me down, down, down, down, down, down, down, down, down, down. I kind of want to be alone until tonight, just resting in bed with bad TV and my photo album. Later when I can’t sleep is when I’m going to need the most company.