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With Terry, I got enough history to choke on.

– It’s not like I go in for torture or anything, you know? Counterproductive. What’s the point, is what I always ask myself. You get into that game, you always have to, you know, ask more questions of yourself than the person you’re torturing. And I’m not just speaking to the inherent unreliability of information received under duress, yeah? That goes without, I hope in this day and age, that goes without saying. What does not go without saying is that torture forces the torturer to ask him or herself more question than he or she is asking the torturee. Tortured? Whatever, doesn’t matter. So, you get into this cycle, because, follow me around here, because if your information is unreliable, how do you make it more reliable. Do you retorture? Ask, Hey, guy, were you just lying to me? Tell the truth or I’ll put you on the rack. Is that it? I don’t think so. And the whole time you, you know, you have to ask yourself, What am I doing? Am I accomplishing anything here? Am I just becoming, you know, the enemy? Ends, and yes, this is hard for some people to swallow, but the ends do sometimes justify the means. I believe that. Warts and all. But damn, it’s a tough call to make. And you got to live with it. Got to own up to it. So that, yeah, while torture is not really my thing, I have to admit that right now, I’m looking at you, and I’m thinking to myself, Hey, I’m kind of glad Predo left Joe a couple fingers for me to cut off. If you get me.

Terry looks up from the copy of the I Ching he’s flipping through.

– The thing is, based on past experience, any answers I’d get would be about as reliable with or without torturing you. And, sorry to say it after all these years, Joe, but, you know, I don’t think I’d have too much soul-searching to do over the moral issues involved.

I look at Hurley, waiting by the door.

– Old friends. How we kick around old times, huh, Hurl?

He shakes his head.

– Don’t fook aboot, Joe, tis not da time fer it.

I look at Terry.

– When’d Hurley get so serious? Used to be such a light-hearted fella.

Terry picks up the three coins next to his book.

– Serious times, man, require serious thoughts. An attitude like yours, it’s counter to everything that’s going on these days. Hang on now, I need to frame a thought.

He starts tossing the three coins, picking them up, tossing again, until he’s done it six times.

– Oh, man. I know this.

He flips through the book.

– You’ll like this, Joe. Listen.

He finds the page, adjusts his wire rim glasses.

– Hexagram thirty-six. Warmth and light are swallowed by deep darkness.

He looks at me over the tops of his glasses.

– This is one of those modern versions that offers analysis. Seriously, you’ll like this.

He looks back at the page.

– You have been deliberately injured. Going blow for blow will only escalate the war. Abstain from vengeance. Sidestep your aggressor’s headlong charge, giving him the opportunity to fall on his face.

I hold up my hand.

– So I get to keep my fingers?

He looks at Hurley.

– Hurl, how hard can you hit Joe without killing him?

Hurley rubs his chin.

– Well now, Joe, he’s a purty tuff nut an all. An I’ve some experience hittin’ him. That helps. I’d say, if pressed, I’d say I could hit him damn hard an not do more than break several bones an rupture an organ or two. At most, I’d say.

Terry looks at me.

I lower my hand.

– Yeah, sure, I’ll shut the fuck up.

And I do.

Terry sets one of the coins on edge and gives it a flick, setting it to spin.

– What I asked the Book of Changes here is, I asked it how I should respond to a new threat that has recently entered an already complex situation.

The coin starts to slow a bit.

– Here we are, at war for the first time in decades. All quiet on the northern front for now, but still, you know, it’s a hot war, shots have been fired. We’re facing all the past issues we could never resolve with the Coalition. Thanks to, you know, thanks to you telling everyone about the blood farm.

Hurley makes a tsk sound and shakes his head.

Terry ignores him, watching the coin begin to list.

– Which, yeah, I’ll agree, that was information that wanted to be free. Sure, yeah, OK. But still, bad timing there. So we’re people, we can adapt, and we do. Diplomacy, it wasn’t an option. No one was in much of a mood to talk. Converse. Work it all out.

I cough.

– Lydia wouldn’t shut up, would she?

The coin falls and Terry slaps it flat before it can wobble down.

– Hurley.

He doesn’t hit me hard enough to kill me, as promised, but I cross the room and put a good dent in some drywall and spend a second being grateful that he didn’t punch me in the ribs and that the wall isn’t brick.

Hurley comes over and offers me a hand.

– An did I break anything?

– No.

– An will ya shut it fer a bit?

I have to think about that one, but I get it right.

– Yeah.

He pulls me up, rights my chair and drops me in it.

– Be good.

Terry spins his coin again.

– Yeah, man, Lydia. You told her about the blood, she opened her mouth and kept it that way. Which, you know, it’s her prerogative to speak her mind and all, but, in a situation where restraint can really reward the restrained, she could have been a little less, I don’t know, strident, maybe. That would have helped. Still, I was able to convince her that a full frontal assault on the Coalition was not a viable option.

The coin slows again.

– We’re no match militarily, that’s not like a secret or anything. We’re getting constantly harassed by the Wall Streeters and Chinatown crews in the south. Christian and his Dusters are clinging to some kind of neutrality. We’d like them to skirmish down there, but they refuse.

Hurley nods.

– Well an dem, dey do have dere own problems just now an all. Not dat I don’t say it’s time fer ‘em to stand up and pick a side, but dey do have dere hands full wit dat udder stuff.

I raise my eyebrows.

Terry flicks eyes from Hurley to me to the coin.

– Something out in Brooklyn is causing problems. The Chosen, they’re having internal conflicts. Seems that when you were there, you did serious damage to their power structure. Left a vacuum. And, you know, I don’t know, nature may abhor a vacuum, but chaos loves one. Infighting. Someone, we get very little information from that quarter, but from what I gather, someone over there, one side or the other, has used a nuclear option.

The coin goes to its side, he watches it wind down this time.

– Making golems.

I can’t help myself.

– What the fuck?

Terry shakes his head.

– I said the same thing. I don’t know, all that East European mythology, mixed with all that biblical mythology. Mixed with, you know, us. Anyway, seems the confusion is just a matter of semantics. What they call a golem, we call a zombie is all.

Hurley pulls down the corners of his mouth.

– Nasty creatures. Imagine, usin’ such a ting ‘gainst yer fella types. Be a special punishment waitin’ fer dem when the final horn blows an all dat. Zombies. Detestable is what it is.

Terry spins the coin, stops it, looks at Hurley.

– No telling what pressures they were under. Not for us to judge a course of action. Right and wrong, absolutes, that gets us nowhere. Some liberality of mind, some flexibility of spirit, it all helps to keep us out of outmoded practices. Thinking forward, that’s where we need to be. Condemnation is a losing proposition.

Hurley shrugs.