I know, you’ll tell me by ansible when anything interesting happens. And in a way, I don’t care. I’m not going to be there, I’m not going to have any effect on it.

In another way, I care even less than that. Because I never did care.

Yet I also care with my whole heart. Because Petra is there with the only babies I actually wanted—the ones that don’t have my defects. With me I have only the cripples. And my only fear is that I’ll die before I’ve taught them anything.

Don’t be ashamed when you see your life coming to an end and you haven’t found a cure for me yet. I never believed in the cure. I thought there was enough of a chance to take this leap into the night, and cure or not, I knew that I didn’t want my defective children to live long enough to make my mistake and reproduce, and keep this valuable, terrible curse going on, generation after generation. Whatever happens, it’s all right.

And then it occurs to me. What if Sister Carlotta was right? What if God is waiting for me with open arms? Then all I’m doing is postponing my reunion. I think of meeting God. Will it be like when I met my father and mother? (I almost wrote: Nikolai’s parents.) I liked them. I wanted to love them. But I knew that Nikolai was the child she bore, the child they raised. And I was…from nowhere. And for me, my father was a little girl named Poke, and my mother was Sister Carlotta, and they were dead. Who were these other people really?

Will meeting God be like that? Will I be disappointed with the real thing, because I prefer the substitute I made do with?

Like it or not, Hyrum, you were God in my life. I didn’t invite you, I didn’t even like you, but you kept MEDDLING. And now you’ve sent me into outer darkness with a promise to save me. A promise I don’t believe you can keep. But at least YOU aren’t a stranger. I know you. And I think that you honestly meant well. If I have to choose between an omnipotent God who leaves the world in this condition, and a God who has only a little bit of power but really cares and tries to make things better, I’ll take you every time. Go on playing God, Hyrum. You’re not bad at it. Sometimes you kind of get it right.

Why am I writing like this? We can email whenever we want. The thing is, nothing’s going to happen here, so I’ll have nothing to tell you. And nothing you have to tell me is going to matter to me all that much, the farther I get from Earth. So this is the right time for these valedictories.

I hope Peter succeeds in uniting the world in peace. I believe he’s still got a couple of big wars ahead of him.