Once shown these things, Amos is so overcome with joy and awe that he cycles between laughter and weeping, and to the eyes of the others in the room — a researcher named Janice, another named Vincent — he seems to be seized by an alarming hysteria. When Amos urges the girl to bring Janice into the same light that she has shown to him, she gives the gift again.
Janice, however, reacts differently from Amos. Humbled and frightened, she collapses in remorse. She claws at herself in regret for the way she has lived her life and in grief for those she has betrayed and harmed, and her anguish is frightening.
Tumult.
Rose is summoned. Janice and Amos are isolated for observation and evaluation. What has the girl done? What Amos tells them seems like the happy babbling of a harmlessly deranged man, but babbling nonetheless, and from one who was but a few minutes ago a scientist of serious — if not brooding — disposition.
Baffled and concerned by the strikingly different reactions of Amos and Janice, the girl withdraws and becomes uncommunicative. Rose works in private with 21–21 for more than two hours before she finally begins to pry the astounding explanation from her. The child cannot understand why the revelation that she’s brought to Amos and Janice would overwhelm them so completely or why Janice’s reaction is a mix of euphoria and self-flagellation. Having been born with a full awareness of her place and purpose in the universe, with an understanding of the ladder of destinies that she will climb through infinity, with the certain knowledge of life everlasting carried in her genes, she cannot grasp the shattering power of this revelation when she brings it to those who have spent their lives in the mud of doubt and the dust of despair.
Expecting nothing more than that she is going to experience the psychic equivalent of a magic-lantern show, a tour of a child’s sweet fantasy of God, Rose asks to be shown. And is shown. And is forever changed. Because at the touch of the child’s hand, she is opened to the fullness of existence. What she experiences is beyond her powers to describe, and even as torrents of joy surge through her and wash away all the countless griefs and miseries of her life heretofore, she is flooded, as well, with terror, for she is aware not only of the promise of a bright eternity but of expectations that she must strive to fulfill in all the days of life ahead of her in this world and in the worlds to come, expectations that frighten her because she is unsure that she can ever meet them. Like Janice, she is acutely aware of every mean act and unkindness and lie and betrayal of which she has ever been guilty, and she recognizes that she still has the capacity for selfishness, pettiness, and cruelty; she yearns to transcend her past even as she quakes at the fortitude required to do so.
When the vision passes and she finds herself in the girl’s room as before, she harbors no doubt that what she saw was real, truth in its purest form, and not merely the child’s delusion transmitted through psychic power. For almost half an hour she cannot speak but sits shaking, her face buried in her hands.
Gradually, she begins to realize the implications of what has happened here. There are basically two. First: If this revelation can be brought to the world — even to as many as the girl can touch — all that is now will pass away. Once one has seen—not taken on faith but seen—that there is life beyond, even if the nature of it remains profoundly mysterious and as fearsome as it is glorious, then all that was once important seems insignificant. Avenues of wondrous possibilities abound where once there was a single alley through the darkness. The world as we know it ends. Second: There are those who will not welcome the end of the old order, who have taught themselves to thrive on power and on the pain and humiliation of others. Indeed, the world is full of them, and they will not want to receive the girl’s gift. They will fear the girl and everything that she promises. And they will either sedate and isolate her in a containment vessel — or they will kill her.
She is as gifted as any messiah — but she is human. She can heal the wing of a broken bird and bring sight to its blinded eye. She can banish cancer from a disease-riddled man. But she is not an angel with a cloak of invulnerability. She is flesh and bone. Her precious power resides in the delicate tissues of her singular brain. If the magazine of a pistol is emptied into the back of her head, she will die like any other child; dead, she cannot heal herself. Although her soul will proceed into other realms, she will be lost to this troubled place that needs her. The world will not be changed, peace will not replace turmoil, and there will be no end to loneliness and despair.
Rose quickly becomes convinced that the project’s directors will opt for termination. The moment that they understand what this little girl is, they will kill her.
Before nightfall, they will kill her.
Certainly before midnight, they will kill her.
They will not be willing to risk consigning her to a containment vessel. The boy possesses only the power of destruction, but 21–21 possesses the power of enlightenment, which is immeasurably the more dangerous of the two.
They will shoot her down, soak her corpse with gasoline, set her remains afire, and later scatter her charred bones.
Rose must act — and quickly. The girl must be spirited out of the orphanage and hidden before they can destroy her.
“Joe?”
Against a field of stars, as though at this moment erupting from the crust of the earth, the black mountains shouldered darkly across the horizon.
“Joe, I’m sorry.” Her voice was frail. “I’m so sorry.”
They were speeding north on State Highway 30, east of the city of San Bernardino, fifty miles from Big Bear.
“Joe, are you okay?”
He could not answer.
Traffic was light. The road ascended into forests. Cottonwoods and pines shook, shook, shook in the wind.
He could not answer. He could only drive.
“When you insisted on believing the little girl with me was your own Nina, I let you go on believing it.”
For whatever purpose, she was still deceiving him. He could not understand why she continued to hide the truth.
She said, “After they found us at the restaurant, I needed your help. Especially after I was shot, I needed you. But you hadn’t opened your heart and mind to the photograph when I gave it to you. You were so…fragile. I was afraid if you knew it really wasn’t your Nina, you’d just…stop. Fall apart. God forgive me, Joe, but I needed you. And now the girl needs you.”
Nina needed him. Not some girl born in a lab, with the power to transmit her curious fantasies to others and cloud the minds of the gullible. Nina needed him. Nina.
If he could not trust Rose Tucker, was there anyone he could trust?
He managed to shake two words from himself: “Go on.”
Rose again. In 21–21’s room. Feverishly considering the problem of how to spirit the girl through a security system equal to that of any prison.