Smik watched Serena Michaels knock on the door of Mary Jimenez's Executive Suite. The hotel's security cameras picked up the greeting, a long hug, and then Serena entered the room. He switched to a camera in the suite's smoke detector, which gave him a wide angle view as Jimenez and Michaels sat next to each other on the couch. He opened a channel to the audio from Serena's phone. They were engaged in small talk. "What have you been doing since you've been back in New York?" Jimenez asked.
"All I've been doing is writing." Serena said. "I see that as my primary job now. I don't think NBC is going to put me back on the air anytime soon."
"Writing is good," Jimenez said, "it focuses the mind. I never know what I really think about anything until I write about it."
"And how's your trip going?" Serena asked.
"It's fine. Last night I did a reading at the 92nd Street Y, and I'm meeting with some of our sisters in Brooklyn tomorrow."
"Betsy Whitaker's cadre?" Serena asked.
"No, it's a newer group —led by a woman named Malika Band."
"I don't know her."
"Your mother said you were having some kind of crisis Sarah, but you seem fine. Was she wrong?"
Serena thought for a moment, started to say something, and then began to cry. Jimenez reached over and took her hand. "I'm sorry..." Serena said.
"You don't ever have to apologize for expressing emotion." Jimenez said. "Not with me. You're going through a lot, and you're still recovering. You're lucky to be alive."
"At the moment I'm not so sure."
"Is it that bad? We can do a healing ritual, but I suspect you need something a bit more concrete." Jimenez said.
"Yeah, I... I'm just a fraud Mamma J. I've really got nothing. I didn't recover any memories, I don't know where all that stuff I said on TV came from. Those weren't memories! I don't know what they were." Serena shook her head. "My agent, my editor, my publisher, they're all expecting some deep wisdom from the great beyond and I've got nothing!"
Jimenez looked at her for a long time and seemed to be telepathically calming her down. Finally she spoke. "One thing I've learned from my years leading the Academy is that people are desperate for some kind of spiritual guidance. The old religions come with too much baggage, and this world we live in offers no substitute."
"So I'm expected to provide it?" Serena scoffed. "Why me?"
"You created that expectation." Jimenez said. "You know... I've seen a lot of hypnosis, and you didn't look hypnotized to me. You looked like you were channeling something. I don't believe you would've said what you did if there wasn't some message you were supposed to deliver. You must have access to something that you aren't consciously aware of..."
"I don't Mamma J." Serena said. "I sit in front of my computer screen every day and try to figure out what to tell people, and there's this heavy weight of expectation hanging over me, and I just freeze."
"So you're really just going to make something up?"
"I don't see what else I can do." Serena said. "I mean, I guess I could tell the truth. Just give Knopf back the money and tell people that I don't really remember anything. But that seems impossible —it would be the end of my career. It would kill my credibility. No one would ever listen to another word I said."
"Hmm." Jimenez let go of Serena's hand and thought for a moment. She closed her eyes and it looked as if she were whispering a prayer. When she was finished, she smiled at Serena. "Of course. Just lie." She said. "As long as what you're telling people is positive and encourages love and cooperation, it can't be a bad thing."
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