Godsent

by Richard Burton

  He had to admit Ethan had been right. It had been necessary for him to make a public appearance as soon as possible. There were too many unanswered questions in the wake of the press conference, too many mysteries. All sorts of rumors were floating around, some introduced by Congregation agents, others born as if spontaneously from the ether, all of them spreading like wildfire through the media and across the Internet: Ethan had been killed; Ethan could not be killed; Ethan was a prisoner of the government; Ethan was the result of a government genetic engineering experiment; Ethan was an alien, or an android, or the Antichrist; Ethan was exactly who and what he claimed to be. Added to the barrage of media coverage, with its obsessive focus on anyone even remotely connected to the Miracle of Olathe Medical or to Ethan’s past, it was no wonder that the public had been whipped into a state of anxiety bordering on hysteria.

  There had been a number of violent outbreaks across the country, even a few small-scale riots, and Papa Jim had given orders for the munchies to crack down hard. There was nothing apt to set people off more unpredictably than religion, and Papa Jim understood that it was important to control the flood of emotion Ethan had unleashed or else run the risk of being swept away by it. So he had agreed to help Ethan organize a funeral service for Lisa, followed by a public statement delivered in front of a select audience and carried live on television as well as over the Internet, where Oz Corp had purchased a domain in Ethan’s name: www.The2ndSon.com. The site had video of Ethan’s interview with Rita Rodriguez and an edited version of his press conference, along with a newly recorded announcement from Ethan stating that he was fine, that he appreciated people’s prayers and good wishes, and that he would be appearing and speaking to the public following the funeral. After only two days, the site had over 200 million hits, and although Papa Jim had anticipated a heavy response and planned accordingly, the servers had still crashed twice so far. Pirated versions of the videos had appeared on YouTube and similar sites, where they had broken all viewing records. And he hadn’t even launched the online store yet.

  Papa Jim’s instincts had been correct. If anything, he’d underestimated the effect that Ethan had on people. Today’s remarks, which had been written by the PR team at Oz Corp, would be the opening move in a campaign whose ultimate aim was Ethan’s installation in the White House, with Papa Jim as the power behind the throne. Together, they would bring this decadent country back to God and to its rightful dominion over the fallen world.

  At first, Ethan had been reluctant to read remarks prepared for him by strangers, but Papa Jim had argued that too much was at stake for Ethan to risk saying something that might be misunderstood or misinterpreted. Things were volatile enough already. There were too many rumors out there, too much misinformation. Hundreds of millions of people were going to be watching and listening to him now, hanging on his every word, and he would never again have a chance like this to influence how they perceived him. One thing Papa Jim had learned in his political career was that first impressions were the most enduring, the most difficult to change. Even though this wouldn’t be his first appearance before a crowd, or on TV, it would still be the first time that the vast majority of the audience was seeing Ethan live. Didn’t it make sense, that being the case, to trust the professionals on Papa Jim’s staff, men and women with a proven record of success?

  Somewhat to his surprise, Kate had backed him up, and Ethan had agreed. Mother and son had been almost inseparable since Papa Jim had brought them together, and though he’d been worried at first that she might try to poison Ethan against him, the opposite seemed to have occurred. Had she forgiven him? Or was it just her maternal instincts kicking in, the knowledge that no one could protect her son better than Papa Jim could? Whatever the reason, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Whether or not Kate realized it, he loved her. Everything he’d done, he’d done for her and for Ethan. Sooner or later, she would see that. He would make her see it. He could be damn persuasive when he wanted to be.

  But meanwhile the audience was getting restless. Fifty people had been invited, most of them residents of Olathe who had known Lisa Brown personally, as well as friends of Ethan, including the boy, Peter, who’d stood beside him at his first press conference. There were local and national media figures, a smattering of the celebrities Papa Jim had cultivated for political reasons over the course of his career, though the politicians themselves had stayed away, understandably cautious of the controversy surrounding Ethan, waiting to see which way the wind was going to blow. That was fine with Papa Jim. They would come running to his door soon enough, and then he would be able to dictate terms to them from a position of strength.

  All the guests had been screened by Denny, who had taken the attempt on Ethan’s life at the press conference as a personal insult, a stain on his professional honor that he was determined to wipe out by never letting anything like it happen again . . . an attitude Papa Jim felt would produce better results than any reprimand from him. But just to be on the safe side, he’d had the guests remotely screened by AEGIS as they entered the funeral home. After these precautions, he was as certain as it was possible to be that there were no Congregation assassins hidden among the guests or the munchies. As for an assault from without, it would take something on the order of a tank or a cruise missile to get past his defenses. The site was secure. He would stake his life on it.

  As, in fact, he had.

  For he planned to be right out there with Ethan, standing at his side.

  Assuming, that is, that Ethan ever came out of the damn viewing room.

  Turning from the window, Papa Jim marched back over to the door.

  “Papa Jim,” Kate protested.

  He ignored her, raising his fist to knock again. Enough was enough.

  But just then the door opened and Ethan emerged. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said.

  With a grunt of acknowledgment, Papa Jim stepped back and looked his great-grandson over critically. He was wearing the clothes selected for him by Papa Jim’s people: a dark gray suit, a creamy white shirt with a blue tie, and black shoes. His hair was freshly cut and styled. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying, which Papa Jim thought was a nice touch; a few tears at the right moment would lend his words the kind of sincerity that couldn’t be faked. He gave a satisfied nod. “Do you need anything before we get started?” he asked.

  Ethan shook his head. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Kate had come to stand beside him. She took his arm and looked up at him. “I’m proud of you for doing this,” she said.

  Ethan gave her a smile. “Thanks, Kate. I’m glad you’re here. It means a lot to me.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Papa Jim glanced at his watch. “We really need to get out there.”

  “I’m ready,” Ethan repeated.

  “All right,” said Papa Jim. “I’m going to introduce you. When I’m through, let the applause go on for a while. Twenty, thirty seconds. Then come on out. As soon as you step up to the podium, your speech will flash onto the teleprompter. Once you start reading, the speech will start to scroll. If you want to slow it down, just blink twice, like this.” He blinked his eyes twice in quick succession. “If you need to stop the scrolling entirely, blink twice more. If—”

  Ethan broke in. “We must’ve rehearsed all this a hundred times, Papa Jim. I know what to do.”

  “Right.” He looked him over one last time. The kid had the charisma of a goddamn rock star. What made it even better was that he didn’t seem to know it. Papa Jim’s mouth was practically watering. Ethan was the real deal, no question about it. Now he knew how Merlin must have felt the first time he laid eyes on the boy who would become King Arthur. “How are you feeling? Nervous?”

  “A little. Mostly relieved.”

  “Relieved?”

  “My whole life has been building toward this moment. I’m finally doing what I was born to do.”

  “Trust me
, you’re gonna kick ass.”

  “Papa Jim!” Kate protested. “You make it sound like a boxing match!”

  “That’s how the game is played, baby girl. Politics is a contact sport.”

  “But this isn’t politics.”

  Papa Jim smiled at that. “Honey, everything is politics.” He gave Ethan a wink. Then, pulling one of his trademark cigars from the inside pocket of his dark jacket, Papa Jim strode up to the back door of the funeral home, flung it boldly open, and stepped outside.

  All eyes turned toward him, the low hum of voices crescendoing in a communal gasp. Then applause broke out as Papa Jim advanced to the podium, raising his hands for quiet.

  “How’s everybody doing?” Papa Jim asked, his voice booming out over the hush. “Sorry for the delay, but we’re ready to get started now. In another minute, a young man is going to come out here and talk to you. I don’t pretend to know what he’s going to say. But I’ve had the privilege of meeting this young man, and so I know that whatever he says, it will be extraordinary. How do I know that? I know it because this young man is extraordinary.”

  As he spoke, Papa Jim was surveying the crowd, gauging the extent of their interest, their skepticism. Every eye was riveted on him. There was the sound of throats being cleared, but otherwise silence. “Now, I know a lot of you folks are from right here in this wonderful town of Olathe, Kansas. You know Ethan. You knew Lisa and Gordon Brown, his parents. They were your friends. Your neighbors. So maybe you think you don’t need me to tell you about Ethan. And maybe you’re right. But there’s lots of folks watching and listening across this country and the world who don’t know anything about him other than what they’ve seen and heard on TV, and a lot of that is just plain wrong. So I hope you’ll indulge me for a minute while I tell you about the Ethan I’ve come to know. You might even be surprised.”

  Papa Jim let the anticipation build. “I’m not standing up here as the Secretary of Homeland Security,” he said at last. “In fact, I’ve already tendered my resignation from that position.”

  This elicited more gasps, but Papa Jim spoke over them. “I’m not up here as the head of Oz Corporation, either. No, I’m up here as a man. A man who loves his country and loves God. A man who’s had more than his share of blessings, and has suffered tragedy too. I’ve brought a child into this world, and buried that child. I’ve been a father and a grandfather. But what I can now reveal for the first time is that I’m also a great-grandfather.

  “Almost twenty years ago, my granddaughter, Kate, had a child out of wedlock. She claimed that she was a virgin, that she’d never slept with a boy, but her mother and father didn’t believe her. I didn’t believe her either. When she had the child, we told her it had died. We took the baby and gave it to a childless couple to raise as their own. Kate never knew until just a few days ago that her child had survived. I’m sure you’ve all guessed by now that the people we gave the child to were Gordon and Lisa Brown. Gordon died some years back, and we’re here today to pay tribute to Lisa, who died to save the boy who had been entrusted to her so long ago. My great-grandson, Ethan Brown.”

  A buzz of conversation greeted these words. Papa Jim let the voices swell, a gleam in his eye. Then he raised his hands for quiet again. “So now you know the truth. Now you see what kind of man is up here before you today. A sinner. A man whose granddaughter came to him asking for trust and received instead lies. A man who gave his own flesh and blood into the keeping of strangers because he was worried about scandal. About his precious good name. And all the while was blind to the miracle that had taken place right before his eyes.”

  Papa Jim allowed a tremor to enter his voice. “Does a man like that deserve forgiveness? No, ladies and gentlemen, no, he does not. And yet, I received it! When I saw the news about what had happened at the hospital here, I recognized Ethan at once. I knew the time had come for me to atone for my sins. At the same time, Kate came to me, after years of estrangement in which we had barely spoken to each other and seen each other even less. She came because she, too, had seen the news, and she, too, recognized Ethan. How? The same way she had become pregnant with him in the first place: by the grace of God. And so we had a reunion of sorts the other day, just the three of us. I got down on my knees to them both and asked for their forgiveness. And I got it, too. That was the happiest day of my life, I don’t mind telling you. For the first time in a long, long time, I was part of a family again. I only wish that my daughter and my son-in-law were alive to share my joy. And Lisa Brown too, of course.

  “So, now you know the kind of person Ethan is. A forgiver. A healer. Is he more than that? Is he who he claims to be? That’s a question everybody has to answer for themselves. But I’ve made up my mind. That’s why I resigned from Homeland Security. A man can’t serve two masters. When it comes to God or the government, I’ll choose God every time. Or, in this case, His son.

  “I won’t take up any more of your patience, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for listening. Now let me proudly present to you my great-grandson, Ethan Brown.”

  The applause was deafening.

  Inside the funeral home, Kate had listened to Papa Jim’s speech in mounting disbelief. “What’s he saying? Has he lost his mind? Did you know he was going to reveal all this?”

  Beside her, Ethan shook his head. “I guess I should have asked to read his speech when he gave me mine.”

  “Didn’t I tell you not to trust him?”

  “I don’t trust him,” Ethan said. “But I need him.”

  “I can’t believe he’s serious about resigning! Why would he give up that kind of power?”

  “In pursuit of greater power.”

  “He’s an evil man,” Kate said. “He’ll betray you.”

  “Maybe,” said Ethan. “But there’s still good in him, despite everything. I can see it in his soul. Shimmers of light amid the darkness. He’s not beyond redemption yet.”

  “It turns my stomach just to be in the same room with him. I don’t understand why you asked me to be nice to him after all the harm he’s done to us. And the worst of it is, he’s so egotistical that he actually believes I have forgiven him!”

  “One day, you will forgive him, Kate.”

  The sound of applause swelled up from outside.

  “That’s my cue,” said Ethan. He held out his hand to her. “Shall we go and give him a surprise of our own?”

  Kate took his hand. “What are you going to tell them?”

  “The truth,” Ethan said.

  Papa Jim was standing beside the podium, grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary as Ethan and Kate emerged from the funeral home. A roar went up from the audience that seemed far in excess of what fifty throats could produce. Ethan smiled and waved his free hand. Beside him, Kate did likewise.

  At the podium, Papa Jim shook Ethan’s hand, then threw one arm around Ethan’s shoulders and the other around Kate’s. For an instant, Kate thought she was going to be ill, not just from the touch of him but the smell of his cigar. Even unlit, the tobacco was strong and vile. To think she had once taken comfort in it.

  Ethan stepped up to the podium, and Papa Jim withdrew his arms, advancing to stand just behind his right shoulder. Kate, feeling self-conscious and shy, especially with all that Papa Jim had revealed about her past, stood stiff as a board, frozen like a deer in headlights. An expectant silence fell over the crowd. Then Ethan began to speak, and Kate felt all her nervousness drain away at the sound of his voice.

  “Hi, everybody,” Ethan said. “Thanks for coming. Thanks especially to my friends and neighbors. It does my heart good to see so many familiar faces out there. I only wish that we were gathered in happier circumstances.”

  “We’re sorry for your loss, Ethan,” shouted someone.

  “Thanks,” Ethan said. “I know it. But I’m going to ask something of you that I know won’t be easy. I hope you’ll give it a try anyway.”

  “Go on, ask!” came another voice, to general laughter.


  “All right, Pete, I will. I was kind of hoping we could start off with a moment of silence for my mom, and also for the man who killed her, and the other man who died in the attack.”

  The silence that followed seemed less an offering of respect to the dead than a sign of stunned incredulity. Kate felt shocked herself. Not just by Ethan’s request, which seemed to place all the dead on the same level, erasing any moral distinction between killer and victim, but because he was ignoring the words of his prepared speech, which hung trembling in the air like a ghostly alphabet, a tracery of letters thin as spider’s silk, visible only from this side of the podium. She glanced to her right and saw that Papa Jim was livid. But there was nothing he could do now.

  Meanwhile, as if sensing the general disquiet, Ethan went on, “You probably think I’m crazy to ask that. Maybe I am. But God didn’t just put me here for the saints. I’m here for the sinners too. For them most of all. That’s why I’m asking for this moment of silence. God rejoices when a human soul finds its way back to Him in death. But He mourns those deaths that send human souls beyond His sight forever. While we live, the path back to God is always open, no matter how far we stray. But the dead can’t walk that path, not even an inch. So what I’m asking in this moment of silence is that you rejoice with God for my mother and mourn with Him for the others, whose souls are beyond salvation, beyond everything but our pity.”

  Kate marveled at these words, and what seemed most marvelous about them to her was how simple the concept was, and how obvious, now that she thought about it—yet for some unfathomable reason, she never had thought about it until now. It made her feel ashamed of how she’d always taken it for granted that she, a human being, had the right to make distinctions between her fellow human beings. To judge them. But surely that was up to God. She bowed her head, thinking of her father and mother and how she had judged them, blamed them, hated them. Oh, so unjustly! Had God rejoiced at their deaths or mourned them? How could she ever know this side of death? All she could have done, while they were alive, was help them as best she could to walk toward God. But she hadn’t, had she? She hadn’t even been able to keep on that path herself.