to Seth, the barrage of futures far outstripped his capacity to single out any specific one. Still his mind handled it without conscious effort. At least most of his mind.
The other part was consumed by Miriam.
The part playing these games was in an autopilot of sorts, albeit an intense autopilot. He supposed the process was not unlike the mind’s control over involuntary bodily functions. His fingers seemed to follow their own will, striking the keyboards with commands that isolated the future he wanted.
The part consumed with Miriam slogged through an abyss of pain. Her face had parked itself in his mind’s eye and refused to budge, no matter what tricks he threw its way. He had known long before they reached Las Vegas that he was falling for her, but he assumed that once she was safely out of his life, his good sense would make quick work of her. He was an intelligent man, after all, not given to emotional reasoning. It seemed his heart had betrayed his mind.
Yes, he was in love with her. Not just love, as in it’s-springtime-I-think- I’m-in-love love, but Love, as in pass-the-poison-I-must-die-without- you love. This new beast presented a more difficult challenge than any he’d ever encountered.
He had thrown himself at the games because he agreed to, but also because he needed to. They provided a necessary distraction. From her face. From her long black hair, shimmering in the desert heat. From her lips kissing him, and her eyes winking at him across the roulette table, and her throaty laugh as he spun her through an absurd dance in her hotel room. From Miriam, the bronzed princess who had swept into his life on the winds of—
Seth slammed both fists on the keyboards. Stop it! He looked at the lower right monitor. A box in the upper right-hand corner. Casualties sustained = 0.
And there was also this gnawing awareness of his gift’s source that wouldn’t let him go. This madness about God.
Seth lifted both hands and rubbed his temples. The seeing had sustained itself for four hours already. Soon it would release him for a reprieve before returning again in all its fury.
The door opened behind him. “You okay?”
He closed his eyes, then opened them. The casualty box had changed. 3. You see, you lose your concentration for a few seconds and see what happens? You’re killing people.
“I’m fine,” he lied.
Clive stepped in. The casualty numbers started climbing. 100. 300. 700.
“Take a break,” Clive said.
Why not? He’d blown the simulation anyway. Seth nodded.
Clive led him to a break room near the back of the complex.
“Coffee?”
“Advil,” Seth said.
Clive tossed him the bottle from the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“I don’t know how long I can go like this,” Seth said, dropping into a chair. “I’m not sure which hurts more, my mind or my fingers.”
“Any changes?”
“Yeah. About three seconds ago. I found my sanity again.”
Clive looked at him over the rim of the mug. “So right now you can’t see—”
“Right now I’m as blind as a bat. Futuristically speaking, that is. And if I could take a drug that would keep me here, in the land of the blind bats, I would take it intravenously.”
Clive sat back and sipped his coffee. “I’m not sure I blame you.” He paused. “The Saudis are having a fit about Hilal’s death. The State Department told Abdullah your theory that Miriam was supposed to marry Omar as a part of a deal with Sheik Al-Asamm.”
Seth glanced at the NSA operative. “They’re just hearing that now? That’s not a theory—it’s Miriam’s testimony. Do they know where she is?”
“Evidently not. And in their eyes the testimony of a woman doesn’t hold water against the word of a prince.” Clive shrugged. “Besides, it’s a moot point now. Miriam’s been saved by Samir. Remember? Even if there was a planned marriage, it’s off now.” Clive lifted his eyebrows.
“So why are the Saudis having a fit?”
“They’re accusing us. Abdullah’s hold on power is tentative enough without rumors of a coup floating around.” He coughed. “In honesty, I think they don’t know what to believe. But they can’t just arrest a prince and kill a sheik based on a woman’s word. Doesn’t work that way in the House of Saud.”
“I’m not sure it is a moot point,” Seth said, looking down at his fingers. They were red. He touched the tips. Maybe bruised.
“And why not?” Clive said. “Miriam’s gone, right? You turned her over to Samir. No one knows where they are, but wherever it is, it isn’t Saudi Arabia. He’d be a fool to take her there. They’re probably holed up in Spain under false names about now.”
“Seems sensible. But there’s only one problem.” Seth wasn’t sure how to say this. Wasn’t even sure he believed it.
“And that would be?”
“That would be . . .” He frowned. “I can’t get her out of my mind.”
Clive sat back and sighed. “The curse that follows beautiful women—”
“It’s more than that!” Seth caught himself and looked away. “I can’t get her out of my mind. What does that tell you?”
“That you’re in love with her?”
“Or maybe it means that whoever put her in my mind hasn’t taken her out. Maybe for a reason.”
Clive picked up a walnut off the table and began polishing it with his thumb. “Really? And who might that be?”
Seth stood at that most awkward juncture sometimes referred to as the moment of truth. He had been here many times over the course of his mind’s travels. The road forked before him. One road, the beaten path, required that he explain himself only in terms familiar to Clive. This road excused him from taking the man out to a cliff, where they could glimpse a breathtaking vista of new ideas. The other road, the one that led to said cliff, required that he actually try to make Clive understand.
For the most part, Seth always found the latter to be a painful experience. Perhaps similar to a woman’s pain during childbirth. Considering the subject, he found nothing to suggest this time might somehow be different.
On the other hand, Clive was a clever fellow. And the idea was begging to be birthed.
“You’re pretty sharp, Clive. Don’t ask me to explain now, but today I know a few things I didn’t know yesterday. I know that everything we do changes the future. I know that something out there called God changed my future in the desert. Do you realize the implications of this, Clive?”
“Tell me.”
“Prayer may just be the most powerful tool mankind has.”
Seth sat back. His own words sounded absurd to him. Imagine the Berkeley faculty’s reaction to that. Our brightest student has just lost his mind.
“What I’m trying to say is, there’s a whole other dimension out there, and I feel like I’m drowning in it. It’s a gift. But now it seems we have a problem.”
Clive set the walnut back on the table. “You’re losing that gift.”
“But I still have it. Which means that I still need it.”
Clive sat still, eyeing him. “Don’t let your infatuation with a girl—”
“I’m not. But I think Miriam may still be in trouble. And that, my friend, isn’t merely about my love for a woman. It’s about the stability of Saudi Arabia and the Middle East. It’s about the future of America, far beyond what I can see with this gift of mine.”