One wonderful night the two whispering armies came together when I realized that the Gelbers” dog, Buddy, was keeping Mom awake with its non-stop barking. This was not a good thing. Mom was dying of some untreatable mysterious thing called a lymphoma, and she needed her sleep. It occurred to me that if I could help Mom sleep, this would be a very good thing, and both voices agreed that this was so —one somewhat reluctantly, of course, but the other, darker one, with an eagerness that made me dizzy.

And so it was that Buddy, the loud-mouthed little dog, launched Dexter on his way. It was clumsy of course, and much messier than I had planned, but it was also oh so good and right and necessary.

In the following months there were a few more minor experiments; carefully spaced, playmates more cautiously chosen, since even in my hot-blooded phase of self-discovery I understood that if all the pets in the neighborhood disappeared, someone was bound to ask questions. But there was a stray, and a bicycle trip to a different area, and somehow young Luke Darkwalker got by, slowly learning to be happily me. And because I felt so attached to my small experiments, I buried them close at hand, behind a row of bushes in our backyard.

I certainly know better than that now. But at the time, everything seemed so innocent and wonderful, and I wanted to look out at the bushes and bask in the warm glow of the memories from time to time. But I had made my first mistake.

That lazy afternoon I sat in my banyan tree and watched as Harry parked the car, got out, and paused. He had on his work face, the one that said I have seen it all and don't like most of it. He stood beside the car for a long moment with his eyes closed, doing nothing more complicated than breathing.

When he opened his eyes again he had an expression on his face that said, I am home and feel very good about that. He took a step toward the front door and I jumped down out of the tree and went to him.

“Dexter” he said. “How was your day at school?” In truth it had been just about like all the others, but even then I knew that wasn't the appropriate response. “Good” I said. “We're studying communism.” Harry nodded. “That's important to know about” he said.

“What's the capital of Russia?”

“Moscow” I said. “It used to be St Petersburg.”

“Really” said Harry. “Why did they change it?” I shrugged. “They're atheists now” I said. “They can't have a Saint anything, because they don't believe in them.” He put a hand on my shoulder and we started walking to the house. “That can't be much fun” he said.