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"Then I guess you know what I found: nada."

"But how did you feel being there?" Roma asked, giving him an intense look.

"Feel? Like I'd wasted my time."

"No, no," he said. "In the air. Did you not feel a residual trace of something strange, something…Other?"

"'Other?' No. Why should I? First Canfield, now you. What's the story with this 'Other' and 'Otherness' business anyway?"

"It is something that has no rational explanation."

"Oh, well, thanks for clearing that up."

"Surely you've seen things that have no rational explanation."

"Maybe," Jack said, thinking of the creaking hold of a rustbucket freighter filled with cobalt-skinned, shark-headed creatures.

"Not maybe. Definitely. You are much more a part of this than you realize."

Something in Roma's voice stopped Jack, something unsaid. What was he getting at?

"You mean because of my experience?" And at that instant he realized that Roma was the only one who hadn't quizzed him on his cover story. Hadn't even mentioned it.

"Yes, but not the one you've been telling people about. Your other experience—the one that left you marked by the Otherness."

"Hey, let's not go tying me into any of that stuff."

"You already are."

"Like hell."

"Really? Then what left those scars on your chest?"

An arctic wind seemed to whistle through the bar; Jack could almost feel it rustle his clothes as it chilled his skin.

"How do you know anything about my chest?"

"The Otherness has left its mark on you, my friend. I sensed your contact with it the instant I saw you on the registration line. And when I am this close to you, I can almost see those scars glowing through your shirt."

Just as he'd done the night of the first reception, Roma raised this three middle fingers and hooked them into claws, then made a diagonal slashing motion in the air.

"Like that, yes?" Roma said.

Jack said nothing. His tongue felt like Velcro. He looked down at his shirt front, then back at Roma, remembering how his chest itched both times he'd been in Monroe.

Jack found his voice. "I think we need to have a nice long chat about this sometime."

To Jack's surprise, Roma nodded and said, "How about now?" He pointed to a tiny table in a darkened corner. "Shall we?"

Jack grabbed his beer from the bar and followed him.

As soon as they were seated, Roma said, "You were scarred by a rather formidable creature, yes?"

Jack didn't move, didn't speak. He'd never told a soul about the rakoshi episode. The people closest to him had been a part of it, and they were trying to put it behind them. Anyone who hadn't been part of it would think he was crazy…would think he belonged in SESOUP. So how the hell could Roma know?

He sipped his beer to wet his tongue. "You've seen one?"

"Seen one?" Roma grinned. "I was present when the Otherness conceived them."

Jack gave a mental whistle. This guy was as loony as the rest of them. Loonier, maybe. But he did know things he had no right knowing.

"Were you now?" Jack said. "You and this Otherness thing."

"The Otherness is not a thing."

"Then what is it? Besides a word, I mean?"

Roma stared at him. "You really don't know, do you."

"Know what?"

"Never mind. As for defining the Otherness, I doubt very much you can grasp the answer."

"Humor me."

"Very well. Let me see…one might describe the Otherness as a being, or a state of being, or even a whole other reality."

"That narrows it down."

"Try this then: Let us just say there is this dark intelligence, this entity somewhere that is—"

"Where?"

"Somewhere—somewhere else. Everywhere and nowhere. But put aside the where for the moment and concentrate on this force's relationship with humanity."

"Wait, wait, wait. You started out a step ahead of me and now you want to take another."

"How? How am I ahead of you?"

"What is this 'dark intelligence'? Is it just there? I mean, is it Satan, Kali, the Bogey Man, what?"

"Perhaps it is all of them, perhaps none of them. Why do you presume it must have a name? It is not some silly god. If anything, the Otherness is more of an anti-god."

"Like Olive's Antichrist?"

Roma sighed, his expression frustrated. "No. That is part of Christian mythology. Forget Olive's eschatological ravings, and every religion you have ever heard of. When I say anti-god, I mean something at the opposite pole from everything you think of when someone says 'god.' This entity does not want worshippers, does not want a religion set up around it. It has no name and does not want anyone assigning it a name."

"What is it then?"

"An incomprehensible entity, a huge, unimaginable chaotic force—it does not need a name. In fact, you might even say it wishes to avoid a name. It does not want us knowing about it."

"If it's, so powerful, why should it care? And who's ever heard of a god that doesn't want believers?"

"Please stop using the word 'god.' You are only confusing yourself."

"Okay. Then why doesn't it want believers?"

"Because of its chaotic nature. Once you believe in it, once you acknowledge it, you give it form. Assigning it a form, a shape, an identity weakens its influence. Identifying it and giving it a name or, worst of all, converting a host of believers to worship it, would shrink its interface with this world and push it further away. So it masks itself as other religions and belief systems and lets them front for it."

"Sort of like a multinational conglomerate hiding behind lots of dummy corporations."

Roma nodded slowly. "A mundane analogy, but you seem to be getting the picture. This force is in this world in many guises, but all working toward the same end: chaos."

"A little chaos isn't so bad."

"You mean, a little randomness? A little unpredictability for excitement?" He laughed softly as he shook his head. "You have no idea, no concept of what we are discussing here."

"All right, what does it want?"

"Everything—including this corner of existence."

"Because why? We taste good?"

"Really, if you refuse to be serious—"

"Don't tell me to be serious when you've filled this hotel with a very serious group of otherwise sane adults who firmly believe that a horde of alien lizards is heading this way from space and is going to chow down on us big time when they get here. I didn't make that up—they did."

"Well, they are right and they are wrong. Something is trying to get here but the 'chowing down,' so to speak, will be of a more spiritual sort. If you would listen without interrupting you might understand."

Jack leaned back and folded his arms. "All right. I'll listen. But whenever I hear stuff like this I can't help thinking about how we all thought earth and humanity were the center of the universe. Then Galileo came along."

"Point taken. It does sound anthropocentric, but if you will hear me out, you will see it is not."

"Go."

"Thank you. I will try to come at this from a different angle: Imagine two vast, unimaginably complex forces at war. Where? All around us. Why? I do not pretend to know. And it has been going on so long, perhaps they themselves have forgotten why. But none of that matters. What does matter is that all existence is the prize. Notice I did not say 'the world,' 'the solar system,' 'the universe,' 'reality'—I said existence. That means that all other dimensions, other universes, other realities—which, trust me on this, do exist—are included as well.