The Gods and the Builders

by Brandon Hale

  “She’s absolutely right,” Jerry said.

  “Great,” Randall said. “Again, please don’t think I’m trying to deprive you of the right to feel that way. I’m not. I’m just trying to understand it.”

  “Has anyone close to you died?” Jerry asked.

  At first, Randall didn’t answer. He visibly jerked when Jerry asked the question. Finally, he said, “Yes. My little brother. It was a car accident.”

  “I’m very sorry,” Jerry said. “How long ago did it happen?”

  “Twelve years ago,” Randall said. “He was twenty-two.”

  “Did he die instantly?”

  “No,” Randall said. “He was in the hospital for two days. And no disrespect intended, but if you have a point, please get to it. It’s not something I like to relive.”

  “Understood,” Jerry said. “While he was in that hospital, did you pray for him to live?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have times where you blamed yourself, for whatever reason?”

  “Yes. He was on his way to visit me when it happened.”

  “Okay,” Jerry said. “I’m sure you wanted to make deals. If he survives, I’ll never smoke again. Or I’ll always wear a seatbelt. Or I’ll never ask for anything again.”

  “Yeah,” Randall said. “It’s stupid, I know, but you get desperate. You look for any rescue.”

  “But it never comes,” Jerry said. “And what’s worse, you get no explanation for why it never comes. And the worst of all is you get no explanation for why it happened in the first place. Life doesn’t care if you’re good or if you’re bad. Bad things don’t happen because you’re being punished, and good things don’t happen because you’re being rewarded. Good people die, bad people thrive. And sometimes bad people die and good people thrive. It’s all completely cold and completely random.”

  “Yeah,” Randall said.

  “And that makes it worse,” Jerry said. “The lack of a reason. If your brother had died because he was a bad person, at least the pain would have a reason. But it doesn’t. You can’t reason with life. In life, things happen. And life doesn’t care if they’re good things or bad. Pain or pleasure. Things just happen, and if they hurt, they hurt. And when you realize that you can‘t bargain with life, it‘s a very scary realization. You just have to take whatever life decides to throw at you.”

  “I think I understand,” Randall said. “If these beings had shown some purpose, for good or bad, you could at least understand why it was happening.”

  “Yeah,” Jerry said. “But it’s more than that. It’s not just that they don’t explain anything. It’s that they don’t seem to care that you’re terrified. They don’t take joy in it, but they do nothing to ease the fear. You’re nothing to them. Your pain is nothing to them. And eventually, you realize that there’s nothing you can do to stop the pain or the fear. It’s no different than trying to bargain with life or God or whatever. Your pleas are completely ignored. It’s like they’re not even heard. You’re a frog on a biology class table. You’re an ant under a child’s magnifying glass. You’re nothing, and nothing you can say or do will change what they’re doing to you.”

  “Holy shit,” Randall whispered. “I think I owe my wife an apology for even questioning her.”

  “No,” Jerry said. “You don’t. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Try to understand. That’s what she needs the most.”

  “Thank you, Jerry,” Randall said. “Seriously.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Jerry said.

  “Do you want to meet my wife?” Randall asked.

  Jerry considered it. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t think it’s necessary. To be honest, I don’t think anything will really help us. I think it’s important for you to accept that we’re unlikely to ever get over this. We’re forever changed, and the changes will probably be with us until we’re dead.”

  “That’s disheartening,” Randall said.

  “Nah,” Jerry said. “It’s freeing. You can stop waiting for this to pass. You can stop trying to cure your wife. You just need to ask yourself if you can live with the person she’s become. If the answer is no, leave her. If the answer is yes, stay with her. Either way, you move on.”

  “You know,” Randall said, “after all these years, Sarah still hasn’t gone into detail. I still have no idea what they did to her.”

  “Not surprising,” Jerry said. “I’ve never told Alice the details.”

  “It’s possible,” Randall said, “that telling us might help us to support you. Knowing the details and all.”

  “Probably,” Jerry said.

  “Feel like sharing?”

  Jerry laughed. He lay back on the cold concrete and stared at the sky. The campus street lights prevented him from seeing any stars. After a long silence, he said, “I think they were testing my respiratory system.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah,” Jerry said. “Crazy, huh. I was in the ol’ cliché white room. They were in there with me. They did things to my chest. I couldn’t see what they were doing, but it was pain beyond anything I could ever describe. It lasted what felt like hours. Truth is, it was probably a few minutes, but it felt like hours. They finished and left the room. Then the air changed. At first, it was like I was on the top of a mountain, where the air is extremely thin. I was struggling with every breath. Then the air changed again, and I couldn’t breathe at all. I felt like I was drowning. It changed again, and I could breathe, but it burned my chest to do so. This went on for a very long time.”

  “What the hell were they doing?”

  Jerry shrugged. “Who the fuck knows. I got the impression that they were developing artificial air. I remember thinking at the time that they were preparing me for a trip through space. Trying to make the air on the ship breathable. It didn’t happen though. By the next morning, I was back in my bed. And I never saw them again.”

  “That’s definitely strange,” Randall said. “Why would they do that?”

  “No idea,” Jerry said. “And when I hear myself describing it out loud, it seems very mundane. Believe me, it wasn’t. I’ve had trouble breathing ever since. Can’t walk up a flight of stairs without feeling like my chest’s about to explode.”

  “I don’t get it,” Randall said. “Why would they do that? Maybe they were preparing you for a trip, but changed their minds.”

  “I gave up trying to figure out why a long time ago,” Jerry said. “I think it was most likely just curiosity. And that’s terrifying. It makes me worry about the future. I mean, humans are ruthless when we can attribute our cruelty to scientific curiosity. We torture animals in horrible ways, all in the name of science.”

  “Yeah,” Randall agreed. “If we ever developed space travel, what would we do if we came across primitive alien animals?”

  “We’d probably stick needles in their lungs and try to figure out how they breathe,” Jerry said. “And their howls of pain would be ignored.”

  “Damn,” Randall said.

  “Yeah,” Jerry agreed. “Damn.” Unexpectedly, he laughed. “Well, how about that. The first person I tell my ‘story’ to is a complete stranger that just witnessed me have a meltdown on some semi-innocent nerds.”

  A car approached and Jerry sat up. “Ah, she’s early,” he said.

  “Thank you again for the conversation,” Randall said. “It helped more than you could know.”

  “No problem,” Jerry said as he got to his feet. “I hate to admit it, but I’m glad Alice pushed me into this.”

  “You want to have a beer sometime?” Randall asked.

  “You mean like a date?” Jerry said with a smile.

  “If you want to pretend it’s a date, I’m okay with that,” Randall said. “I’m a good looking guy.”

  Jerry laughed as he pulled out a pen and opened his notebook. “What’s your number?”

  “You didn’t go in,” Alice said as Jerry got in the car.

  “I did go in,” Jerry replied as they p
ulled away from the building. “But I’m not going back.”

  “Jerry.”

  “Don’t ‘Jerry’ me, Alice,” Jerry said. “I’m not going back. If you want to say that means I broke a promise, so be it. I gave it my best shot. They were assholes and idiots. They made it worse. I met one decent guy, and I got his number. If that’s not enough for you, then you can just be mad.”

  “Okay, okay,” Alice said. “You gave it your best shot. Promise fulfilled. Geeze, man.”

  “Sorry,” Jerry said. “I’m just frustrated. They really were idiots.”

  “I’m sorry I pushed them on you,” Alice said. “I hoped it’d help.”

  “Thanks,” Jerry said. “Really. I know I’m not the easiest guy to live with.”

  “Not your fault,” Alice said. “You’ve been through a ton of shit.”

  Jerry smiled darkly. He found it interesting that she didn’t deny the fact that he was hard to live with… she simply acknowledged a reason. “So that was a short class,” he finally said.

  “Yeah,” Alice said. “Dr. Carver has some church picnic thing tomorrow, so he said he had to catch up on grading some papers tonight. He just told us what to read for next time and sent us on our way.”

  “You smell like cheap men’s cologne again,” Jerry said with a smile.

  “Here we go again,” Alice said, returning the smile. “The dude that sits beside me is a big believer in smelling good.”

  “Does he rub it on you or something?” Jerry asked, thankful for the subject change.

  Alice chuckled. “It’s just that strong. And, for the record, I happen to think it smells pretty good. Just a little strong.”

  Jerry looked down at the piece of paper in his hand. “I think I might actually call that Randall guy,” he said quietly.

  “So the same thing happened to him?” Alice asked.

  “Huh?” Jerry said, looking up. He hadn’t realized he made the comment out loud. “Oh, no. His wife.”

  “That would make me feel better about forcing you to go to that meeting,” Alice said. She cleared her throat, and said, “Actually, you should call him tomorrow night. I might go to a study group tomorrow anyway.”

  “Really?” Jerry said. “A study group? That’s just cute.”

  “Shut up,” Alice said. “I really want to do well in these classes. But if you wanted to do something together, I’m cool with that too.”

  “Nah,” Jerry said. “Go to your group. I might call the guy. Even if I don’t, I could use some time to myself anyway.”

  “Of course you could,” Alice said.

  Jerry didn’t fail to notice the hint of bitterness in her voice. His “alone time” had always annoyed her. She seemed to take it as a personal attack on her company. “You know, I do my best stuff when I’m alone. It‘s an artist thing.”

  “I know,” she said. “Sorry about the dig there.”

  “No problem,” Jerry said as he leaned against the car window and looked at the sky. Now that they were away from the campus, he could see the stars shining down. He looked at the door window and saw his own reflection. His curly brown hair. His pale skin. The dark circles under his eyes. Overall, Jerry thought he looked younger than his thirty-six years. Except the eyes. He couldn’t deny that a complete lack of decent sleep for the past few years had taken its toll on his eyes.

  “Can I ask you something?” Alice said.

  “Yeah,” Jerry said absently.

  “Do you get any comfort from the fact that you know--for an absolute certainty--that we’re not alone?”

  Jerry sighed. “Sometimes,” he said. “I have these fleeting moments of optimism where everything’s positive. They’re here to help, and the things they’re doing are some necessary evil. But the thoughts go almost as fast as they come. And most days, I just find myself hoping they’ve gone away and are never coming back.”

  “Do you think that’s possible?” she asked. “That they’re gone?”

  Jerry noticed that her voice didn’t sound hopeful. It sounded worried. The idea that they were gone and never coming back seemed to worry her.

  “Possible?” he finally answered. “Yeah, I suppose it‘s possible.”

  “But not likely?”

  Jerry shrugged, looking back at the sky. “I don’t know, Allie. I wasn’t exactly sitting in on their board meetings.”

  Jerry braced himself for a chastising reply, but Alice just remained quiet. Perhaps she understood that today was a hard day for him and she gave him a pass on the smart-ass comment. Or, he thought, maybe she’s finally giving up on trying to help.

  That thought didn’t bother him as much as he would have expected. In some dark corner of his mind, the idea that she was giving up on him was comforting.

  Lauren

  The Day Before the Arrival

  Lauren stood in front of the grill, rolling the hot dogs back and forth with her spatula. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her glasses kept steaming up from the heat of the cooking food. She wiped the condensation from her glasses and looked around the small park, watching the children play while their parents prepared the food on four picnic tables. The January picnic had been a tradition at the church for three years running. It started when a member of the church mentioned that she always got depressed in January, mainly due to the post-Christmas blues. Lauren had jokingly suggested they have a picnic to make her feel better. The other people in the church latched onto the idea, and the first annual January picnic took place in the snow, two days later.

  This year, there was no snow. The weather was amazingly warm for January. Most of the kids weren’t even wearing coats. Lauren smiled as she watched a game of tag break out.

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Carver.”

  Lauren turned around to see an older man strolling towards her, carrying a twelve-pack of soda. “Hi, Earl,” she said with a smile. “Just put them on the first table over there.”

  “And how’s our minister today?” he asked as he placed the drinks on the table.

  “I’m good,” she said. “Just thankful that the day turned out so pretty.”

  “Yeah,” Earl agreed. “Luck was on our side today.” He grinned. “Or are we allowed to believe in luck?”

  Lauren chuckled. “Of course we can believe in luck.”

  He patted her on the shoulder. “Where’s that husband of yours?”

  “Grading papers,” Lauren said. “He’ll be along shortly.”

  “He’s darn lucky you’re a minister,” Earl said.

  “Why’s that, Earl?”

  “Because,” he explained with a smile, “a woman with less inner strength might have given up on him by now and gone off and had an affair. The man works all the time. A pretty lady like yourself should be getting more attention.”

  “Earl,” Lauren said, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re flirting with me.”

  Earl laughed. “Maybe a little. Just don’t tell the wife, okay?”

  Lauren laughed and said. “So how’s she doing?”

  “Healing up just fine,” Earl said. “And grouchy as ever.”

  A woman came walking toward them. She was on crutches and her left foot was in a cast. “Are you flirting with the minister again?” she said.

  “No,” Earl said in mock offense. “Ask her. I wasn’t flirting.”

  “Maybe a little,” Lauren said.

  “Traitor,” Earl mumbled.

  “Sorry,” Lauren said. “Can’t really lie about it. The whole minister thing, you know.”

  The woman shook her head. “Stop being the dirty old man.” She turned to Lauren. “How are you, honey?”

  “I’m good, Liz,” Lauren replied. “How’s the foot?”

  “Coming along,” the older lady answered. “At my age, I should have a broken hip, not a broken foot. I told Earl at least a hundred times to fix that top step on the porch.”

  “Hey,” Earl said. “It’s fixed now.”

  She pointed at her foot and sa
id, “Yeah, a little late on that one.”

  Lauren laughed. At thirty-three, she was the youngest minister at the church, and she was the only female minister. Living in a small town, she was worried at first that it might become a scandal, but the parishioners quickly quelled those fears. They embraced her as a person and as a spiritual leader.

  Once the food was done, everyone sat at the picnic tables and began to eat. Lauren sat across from Earl and Liz. The space beside her was empty, reserved for her husband when he arrived.

  As Earl took a huge bite from his hot dog, he said, “What’s that husband teach, anyway?”

  “Swallow before talking,” Liz said. “Good grief.”

  Lauren chuckled, then said, “He teaches History of Western Civilizations.”

  “That sounds awful,” Liz said. “I hate memorizing dates and all that nonsense. No disrespect to Arthur, but when are those kids ever going to need to know the date Julius Caesar yawned for the tenth time? In the real world, I mean.”

  “Arthur agrees with you,” Lauren explained. “His classes usually involve studying the literature of ancient cultures. Stuff like Beowulf and Homer. He finds the date memorizations to be monotonous and pointless.”

  “Monotonous and pointless,” a voice said from behind. “You must be talking about me.”

  Arthur Carver sat on the bench beside his wife. He was a handsome man, by most standards. His hair was blond and neatly trimmed. He wore small glasses that usually slid down his nose. His mustache and goatee were also neatly trimmed. All in all, he looked like a college professor.

  “In a way,” Lauren said. “We were discussing the history of western civilizations.”

  “Ah,” Arthur said. “Yes. Monotonous and boring indeed. How‘s the foot, Liz?”

  “It’s coming along,” Liz answered. “Cast comes off in another week.” She turned to Lauren. “So, dear, how are the sugars?”

  Lauren chuckled inwardly. It always tickled her when Liz asked about “the sugars.” She took a sip from her drink and said, “Good, Liz, thanks. At my last doctor’s visit, he called me diabetic of the year because my numbers were so good.”