Second Self

Chapter 10

"Guilt is the thief of life." Anthony Hopkins

Rooms the size of closets lined the tunnel walls. It was a different passageway than the one we'd used to get to the Moon Pool. I stopped to look at a lumpy heap slumped against the back wall of one of these small spaces. Gem said, "She can't see you. From her perspective, she's in a room with four solid walls."

The woman proved Gem's point by not returning his gaze. I couldn't help wondering if Denovo had stood like this outside the cell where Casper and I were locked up, watching us have our first kiss. Gem must have noticed me shiver because he offered his sweater. I shook my head and walked on. Gem followed. I found myself pressing my body against Gem's as we passed the occupied cells. Based on the things I'd seen in movies, it wouldn't have surprised me if he took the opportunity to wrap his arm around my shoulders, but Gem kept his hands at his sides. He knew me better than I'd given him credit for, even after all our misunderstandings.

For some reason, Pastor Doral's demeanour as we entered the control room made me angry. It made me want to force him to experience what it was like to live with anxiety. I walked up to him, raised my chin to meet his gaze and pointed at the symbol on his chest.

"Incepterrians wanted to wipe humanity off the face of the Earth, just so they could take over our planet, which is why you say watching us is an act of Penitence. You might as well say you're your people deserved the worst possible punishment, and being connected to humanity was as bad as it got. It makes me wonder if you've been asking for forgiveness for the wrong set of sins. Before your people came to Earth, had humans tried to slaughter entire groups of people just because their skin was a different colour? Or because they belonged to a different faith? Did they kill people because of their gender or who they loved? Did anyone suggest the possibility that it wasn't necessary to change us? I can't help wondering if your people made us worse in your attempts to make us better."

I didn't want to believe Incepterrians were to blame for the sins of humanity. I tended to think that there was a seed of darkness planted in all souls, which only needed some fertilizer to grow. On the other hand, I desperately wanted Pastor Doral to think that I might blame them.

To my mortification, Pastor Doral threw himself on the floor in front of me, wrapping his arms around my knees. Filled with the fervent desire to crawl out of my skin and slink from the room, I tossed my hands up in surrender. Pastor Doral's tears soaked into my pant leg. Having every eye in the room fixed on us made it hard to push him away as I wanted. "I've never been able to speak to a human. I've never had an opportunity to ask for forgiveness. Please, forgive me," Pastor Doral begged.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

My face was on fire. It had never occurred to me that I might be expected to represent humanity. It wasn't my place to offer forgiveness to Incepterrians for the crimes committed against humanity. Besides, it was almost too ironic. On Earth people on the autism spectrum—a label we're told to use as if we lack even the right to name ourselves—live with society's implication that we're failed versions of normal. I couldn't help wondering what humanity would think about having someone representing them who they didn't deem fit to speak for themselves.

The only thing I could offer Pastor Doral was mercy from myself alone, and I wasn't sure I wanted to do even that much.

On the other hand, if someone asked me to confess the sins that humanity had committed, the list would take the rest of my life to recite. A scene from a movie popped into my mind as I struggled to find a way to make Pastor Doral feel better. I placed my hand on top of his head and told him, "For my part, I forgive you. Go in peace." I held my breath and waited, hoping he wouldn't think that I was making fun of him.