I continued my translation: “As leader of O.S., Sniper will never stop, or compromise. It must… it must die.” I stumbled here because I lied, though a lie is hardly a greater sin than the mockery of translation; He did not say in the abstract Sniper must die, he commanded that I, Mycroft Canner, must track it down and kill it. “Tully Mardi must… publicly submit… but not be killed, they would make too powerful a symbol dead. The truth, about Casimir Perry, Jehovah’s succession, Madame, Bridger, all of it must be revealed to the public, so people may make up their own minds which side to fight on in the…”

I froze, but the others knew what came next, for, of all Jehovah’s mingled tongues, English has the clearest, most concise word for ‘War.’

“No!” My voice cracked. “Ἄναξ, there doesn’t have to be a war now. You’ll stop it! We have Bridger. You’ll stop it, You and Bridger together, and You’ll make a new—”

He spoke again, and sobs wracked me until I was glad of the Cannergel that held me down.

“What is it, Mycroft? Mycroft?”

I would not translate, not even for Caesar, but for you I shall, my precious, distant reader. I was wrong. That’s how He began it: Mycroft, you are wrong. He sensed at once conviction in me, as out of place as a gun in Heloïse’s hand, or a healing salve in Dominic’s. I had believed that Providence sent Bridger and Jehovah to this Earth at the same moment, so they might meet, and Jehovah receive at last His greeting from This Universe’s God. This had proved true, but, fool that I was, I had assumed that one kindness dropped by Providence meant more would come. Yes, Bridger and Jehovah were placed on this Earth to meet each other, but meet they had. First Contact was done. For all we knew, Sniper would shoot Jehovah dead before Bridger could return, or it would spirit Bridger away to use his gifts for Sniper’s side and wreck Jehovah’s empire. Nothing was certain. Nothing under Providence is ever certain until an agent goes and tries and makes it so.

“Release me.”

All turned, startled by the speed with which my grief gave way to the cold demand.

Papa smiled. “Not a chance.”

“I must find Bridger.”

He shook his head. “You need to recover from surgery first.”

I made a grab for Papa’s wrist, but the straps held me too tight. “Bridger is everything: immortality, resurrection, cure, the weapon to protect the world, the weapon to destroy it, anything we can conceive. No one knows what this war will be like except that it will be the worst in history. Nothing but Bridger can guarantee that the human race will even survive. I’m the only one here who knows how to find them. Sniper knows about Bridger too; Sniper will be after them. I must bring them here, now, safe. Nothing in history has ever been so important.”