“I dare you to go back.”
The boy looked at him with mild fear in his eyes. “No. I don’t want to.”
“But didn’t you play the same game yesterday?” Nick said. “Didn’t they cheat in the same way yesterday?”
“Yeah,” said the boy, like it was nothing. “So?”
The boy pushed through the revolving door and hurried off.
Allie came up beside Nick. “I joined their card game a few days ago. It threw them off, but the next day, they were back to the same old routine.”
“But it doesn’t make sense…”
“Yes it does,” said Allie. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. You know when you’re listening to music, and the CD starts to skip? Well it’s like our lives are CDs that started to skip on the very last note. We never got to the end, we’re just sort of stuck. And if we’re not careful, we start to fall into ruts, doing the same things over and over and over.”
“…Because there’s comfort in the routine, …” said Nick, echoing Mary’s words.
“Is that what’s going to happen to us?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“We are not like the living,” Mary writes in her book The First Hundred Years.
“We are beyond life. We are better than life. We don’t need to complicate our existence with a thousand meaningless activities, when one will do fine. Just as the world’s great artists learn the value of simplicity, so do we Afterlights learn to simplify. As time goes on, we fall into our perfect routine; our Niche in space and time, as consistent as the rising and falling of the sun.
This is normal and natural. Routine gives us comfort. It gives us purpose. It connects us to the rhythm of all things. One must feel a certain pity for Afterlights who never do find their niche.”
Chapter 9
Endless Loop Nick spent the next few days following other Afterlights in Mary’s domain, and it confirmed what Allie had shown him. For these kids, each day had become a repetition of the same day—and although he wanted to ask Mary about it, he didn’t, because he knew she would find some way of giving it a wonderful, positive spin. He wanted to sit with it for a while and think about it himself without Mary’s input.
That didn’t stop him from spending as much time as he could with her, though.
Mary was not routine. Each day was different for her—the kids she spent time with, the things she did. It eased Nick’s mind to know that endless repetition was not an irresistible force. A person had choice in the matter, if they were strong enough.
It was a constant irritation to Nick that he and Mary could never have time alone. Wherever Mary ‘was, Vari was there, too, like her own personal valet. Or like a lap dog. Clinging to Mary kept the boy’s life from becoming repetitive, like the others—although Nick wished Vari would just lock himself in a room, and play endless Beethoven to the walls for a few hundred years.
“Do you always have to hang around her?” Nick asked him. “Don’t you ever want to do anything else?”
Vari shrugged. “I like what I do.” Then he studied Nick with a certain coldness in his eyes. “You’ve been spending lots of time with Mary,” he said. “Maybe it’s time for you to do something else.”
Nick couldn’t quite read Vari’s emotions, only that they were unpleasant ones.
“It’s a free spirit world — I can do what I want,” Nick said.
“She’ll grow tired of you,” said Vari. “She likes you because you’re new, but you won’t be new forever. Soon you’ll be just another Afterlight, and she won’t even remember your name. But I’ll still be here.”
Nick huffed at the suggestion. “She won’t forget my name.”
“Yes she will. Even you will.”
“What are you talking about? “
“Your clothes, and your chocolate-face might cross over with you, but your name doesn’t. Not really. It fades just like any other memory. Soon everyone’ll just call you Chocolate. Or Hershey.” Vari grinned, but it wasn’t a pleasant grin.
“Yeah, that’s it. You’ll be Hershey.”
“No I won’t. And I won’t forget my name.”