She paused, and I noted how radiant she looked in that moment. She was fully alive, not just physically, but in every way a person could be.

“Bryson Nichols claims to offer eternal life. Perhaps he offers unending existence, but he doesn’t offer eternal life. Only God offers that, because his Son is the life. He who has the Son has the life. Forever.

“The Inisi would not be enriched by Bryson Nichols’s latest technology. They would be impoverished, for they would lose their greatest treasure, God himself. Just as my grandfather, Dr. Ray Caldwell, lost God when he was forced against his will to undergo the brain transplant that he himself invented.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd once more. The chairwoman banged her gavel again, and the audience quieted. She looked at Abby. “That’s quite a claim, Ms. Caldwell. Have you discussed this misuse of his technology with Bryson Nichols?”

“It was Bryson Nichols who performed the transplant.”

Confusion churned through the crowd. It took ten minutes for the chairwoman to regain control and resume the proceedings. She looked at Abby with the utmost seriousness. “Ms. Caldwell, this hearing room does not afford protection for slander. You stand in danger of both criminal and civil proceedings. I understand the duress all this has placed you under. I will afford you the opportunity to amend your statement to this committee.”

Abby leaned over and spoke briefly to the man who had accompanied her down the aisle with Ben.

“Ms. Caldwell?”

Abby looked back at the chairwoman. “I appreciate your graciousness, Madam Chairwoman. In response to your offer, may I request that a statement by the man next to me be added on my behalf?”

Jillian Cahill’s patience had worn thin. “And who is this man, Ms. Caldwell?”

“Dr. Leonard Thompson.”

“And what is he a doctor of?”

“Until three weeks ago he was the head of psychiatry at the Massachusetts Center for Mental Health.”

Within the span of forty-five minutes, Leonard Thompson unraveled Bryson Nichols’s carefully constructed plan for the world. He corroborated Abby’s claims concerning Nichols and her grandfather. Thompson had been fired without cause because of what he knew and had been threatened with harm if he spoke of it. He had contacted the FBI and had been referred to Ben Steele, who had arranged for his presence at the hearings.

By the time Thompson’s testimony ended, I stood at the back of the hearing room, in physical reality. Chairwoman Cahill pounded her gavel, ending the morning session.

“Abby!” I cried. “Abby!”

Several officers began wedging Abby, Ben, and Dr. Thompson through the crowd toward the back. I pressed my way toward her.

“Abby!”

Her eyes lit up when they met mine. “Creighton!”

She pushed through reporters and threw her arms around me. We held each other for several long moments. She leaned her head back, tears on her face. “Creighton—”

I kissed her gently. “Abby, I thought you were—”