His fingers were locked on the transmitter we
used in the show, and the doll's head was moving
slightly from side to side as if it were saying, No, no,
no.
I screamed, but he did not awaken.
Panic submerged me in a pool of ice. For a few
moments. I couldn't move, couldn't get my arms or
legs to do anything. Then I reached out to shake him.
His body shook, but his eyes didn't change. They were
so glassy they resembled the Destiny doll's eyes.
Slowly. I brought my fingers to his face. Whe
n I felt
the coldness in his skin, it was as if I had swallowed a
ball of fire that immediately exploded around my
heart.
"Uncle Palaver!" I shouted.
And then I did the strangest thing I thought
possible. I actually turned to the Destiny doll, as if I believed it could somehow help me. The head
continued to move, but slower and slower,
The batteries were running down, I thought. It
might have been triggered hours and hours ago. I
pried the transmitter out of Uncle Palaver's frozentight, hard fingers, and the doll's head stopped
moving.
I didn't know what to do. I just stood there
stupidly looking at my uncle and his life-size doll entwined on the bed like two lovers who had made a
suicide pact and carried it through. The realization of
what had happened sank into me, or rather. I felt as
though I were sinking into it, reality climbing up my
stunned body until it reached my chest and clamped
itself around my torso, making it hard for me to