"I'll tell her, I promise," Chris said. He glanced at Robin. He thought she was delirious already, and Robin agreed. Cirocco was probably dead, and even if she wasn't, there was little prospect she could move the mountain of stone clogging the stairway above them.
"You don't understand," Gaby said, sagging back. "All right, I'll tell you what we were really doing while we pretended to be taking you two on a little walk in the park.
"We were plotting the overthrow of Gaea."
What Gaby and Cirocco had been doing was more an exploration of ways and means than an actual plot. Neither of them was at all sure it was physically possible to overthrow Gaea or if Gaea the being could be disposed of without wrecking Gaea the body, upon which all of them depended for survival.
As with so many things in Gaea, the situation had its roots in events long past. Gaby had felt an itch to change things at least thirty years before. Robin sat beside her in the flickering darkness and heard her speak of things she had been able to confide to no one but Cirocco.
"Rocky didn't even want to hear about it for a long time," she told them. "I don't blame her. She had a lot of reasons to be satisfied with things the way they were. So did I, for that matter. I didn't find life in Gaea a terrible thing. Every once in a while I found something I didn't like, but hell, it was worse on Earth. The universe isn't fair, and it isn't pretty, whether or not it's governed by a living God. I honestly believe that if the Christian God existed, I'd hate him more than I do Gaea. She isn't even in his league.
"And yet, just because you could talk to this God, just because she was actually there and I had spoken to her and knew that she was responsible, that every injustice and every pointless death was the result of a conscious decision... it made it much harder to take. Cancer is acceptable to me only if I feel it just grew, that no one thought it out and decided to inflict it on people. On Earth, that's the way it was. If an earthquake happened, you suffered and patched your wounds and picked up the pieces and moved on to whatever the universe threw at you next. You didn't rail against God, or at least not many of the people I knew did.
"But if the government passed a law you didn't like, you raised hell. You either tried to throw the bastards out at the next election or organized to take power away from them by other means. Because those injustices came from people, and not an indifferent universe, you felt you could do something about it.
"It took me a long time to realize that it's the same way here, but I finally did. The obstacle was in thinking of her as a God, and believe it or not, for a long time I guess I did. There are so many resemblances. But she doesn't operate by magic. Everything she does is theoretically within the reach of beings like ourselves. So I gradually moved away from the God proposition and began viewing Gaea as City Hall. And damn it, I guess I can't resist fighting City Hall." She had to stop talking because she was seized by a coughing fit. Robin held the waterskin to her lips, and she drank, then looked down at herself with tears in her eyes. "You can see where it got me."
Valiha gently stroked Gaby's forehead. "You should rest now, Gaby," she said. "You must save your strength."
"I will," Gaby said. "I just have to get this out first." She breathed heavily for a short time, and Robin saw her eyes widen. She tried to raise herself, but Valiha kept her down, carefully not touching her burned skin. Robin could see a realization growing in the other woman as she looked wildly from one to the other. When she spoke, her voice was childlike.
"I'm gonna die now, aren't I?"
"No, you should just-"
"Yes," said Valiha, with a Titanide's directness about death. "There can be very little hope now."
Gaby inhaled with a racking sob.
"I don't want to die," she moaned. Once again she tried to sit up. She fought them, gaining strength with hysteria. "I'm not ready yet. Please don't let me die, I don't want to die, I ... I don't want ... don't let me die!" She suddenly stopped resisting them and collapsed. She wept bitterly for a long time, so long that when she tried to speak again, her words were broken almost beyond understanding. Robin bent to put her ear close to Gaby's mouth.
"I don't want... to die," Gaby said. And a long time later, when Robin had hoped she was asleep, she said, "I didn't know it could hurt so much."
Finally she slept.
It might have been eight hours before she spoke again. It might have been sixteen; Robin could not know. None of them had expected her to awake at all.
Over the next several hours she told them the rest of the story. Her strength had failed alarmingly; she was barely able to lift her head to take the sips of water that she needed with increasing frequency if she was to speak at all. She had inhaled flames. Her lungs were filling up, and her breath bubbled. She drifted in and out of dreams, talking to her mother and other people who must have been long dead, calling often for Cirocco. But always she returned to the story of her private heresy, her quixotic and ultimately fatal mission to topple the arbitrary power that held sway over her life and those of everyone dear to her.
She told of grievances great and small, and often it was the little things, the injustices on a personal level, that meant more than the great wrongs. She spoke of the institution of the quests and how she grew more disgusted with each passing year as unfortunate people were compelled to fight and die to provide amusement for a God who was weary of the smaller passions. She detailed the cruel joke of the Wizard and the Titanides, ran down the roster of Gaea's macabre toys: a long and infamous list that had its culmination in the buzz bombs.
At one point she had dared to wonder if it must be this way. Having thought it, she was led inexorably to wonder what the alternative might be. At first she could tell no one, not even Cirocco. Later, when Cirocco had suddenly found cause to resent Gaea's machinations, she had approached the subject cautiously, been rebuffed, and let it lie for five years. But gradually Cirocco became interested. At first it was only a theoretical problem: could someone or something take Gaea's place? If so, what? They discussed and rejected Earth computers; none was large or complex enough. Various other solutions were also found wanting. At last they had narrowed the possible candidates for a heavenly succession to eleven-the living regional brains of Gaea.
For a long time Cirocco was content to leave it at that. It seemed possible that one of them, or a team, might conceivably take over Gaea's functions if she were to die. There were myriad problems with any of the possibilities, but they were at least thinkable. And that was as far as Cirocco cared to go. Gaby did not think it was cowardice, though this was during the worst of Cirocco's alcoholism. It was merely that the second part of the problem looked insignificant compared to the first. All their discussion presupposed the absence of Gaea. But who will bell the cat? Gaby could dismiss that, knowing from experience that the world is full of stupid heroes and knowing herself to be one of them. Cirocco was, too, if suitably goaded to it. She and Cirocco would dispose of Gaea.
But then they reached the question that had so far been unanswerable.
How does one dispose of Gaea?
"That one had me completely beat," Gaby confessed. "The whole thing was left at that point for a good seven or eight years. Rocky was pleased to forget it, but I never could. All that time my conscience was working on me, telling me I ought to be doing something. There was only one thing I could think of ... let me admit this, this seems like the right time for confessions. I never thought that by myself, I'd come up with the final answer. I knew Rocky could if she set her mind to it. So my job was to find a way to get her interested in doing something. I had to make it seem possible. I began to badger her about making a survey. I worried at her for several years, until she would hardly speak to me because I was getting to be such a pest. But I worked at her conscience-because she didn't like the things I've told you any more than I did; it's just a little harder to get her moving than it is me. She finally gave in.