So they turned to him, trusted him, feared him, even.
Only a handful of people in all of history had ever known that kind of power. Presidents, maybe, depending on the era; kings, sure, but their kingdoms were not worldwide; movie stars and such, but that was all superficial crap. He spoke and markets moved; called a king and the king picked up. He’d decided we were sticking with oil and, goddamn it, we’d stuck with oil and the world got twenty, thirty good years in exchange.
You’re welcome.
You’re welcome, world.
Goodbye, beloved hunk of rock, overrun of late with jabbering moronic ingrates.
His enemies could have it, the whole damn thing.
Every last one of them could freeze to death while starving in the dark.
He was going home now, to God, his dear God, who’d always loved and protected him and made good things, all the best things, happen for him. Thank you, Lord, thank you for making me who I was and not some little squirming powerless nincompoop.
Thank you for making me unique, one of a kind, incomparable, victorious.
For making meme.
This guy.
This guy right here.
Over and out.
Uh-oh, I thought.
It’s hooey, pure hooey, he said, turning on me with surprising force, given the negligible trace of life left in him. You’re a hooey-pusher. A false prophet. Anybodyeverbuy thatelevationcrap? You ever actually sold anybody on that line of bull? What a snore. Not for me, thanks. When I win, I dance. When I lose? Also dance. I dance the dance called: next time, fuckers. Goodbye forever, lady. You lost. You blew it. You comforted me not one iota. And I want you to know that.
He was like a deflated balloon in which, despite all external appearances, there remained one last bit of air.
Or vitriol.
Or spite.
With which someone could yet be hurt.
If he just put his mind to it.
—
But then a sudden look of warmth passed over his face.
Do you remember, he said.
Remember what? I said gently.
(Perhaps a change of heart? We had, after all, been through so much together.)
That salamander, he said.
Sorry? I said.
That angel food cake, he said.
I’m not your mother, I said.
I felt a presence behind me, and turned, and there she was:
