Hobbes: “I know the depths of Man. The endless war to guard his life reminds him at each skirmish that someday he must make the great leap in the dark. Deep down, all fear is fear of that. Besides, there are many like Aquinas who find the old proofs of God convincing, and plenty like Mycroft who have seen the Pattern enough to believe they recognize the Author’s Hand, but far fewer to whom ghosts, angels, or logic have proved the afterlife with equal certainty. Don’t you agree?”

“The child who resurrected you, you called them Bridger?” The brave sensayer who pressed on fastest was Andalusia Whitewing, a pale and towering redhead, and the only Cousin in a primarily Humanist bash’ which boasted sensayers, an architect, a journalist, a seamstress-nanny, and a wall of awards and honors to rival any in Buenos Aires.

Jehovah turned. “My Mycroft knows more of Bridger than I.”

So fixed were their souls’ eyes on answers, reader, that, with the Addressee before them, they had not noticed the cannibal-parricide who lingered by the door.

“Mycroft Canner!”

“My Mycroft translates for Me when My English fails.”

I stayed on the threshold, pinned by my twin duties obey His summons and to guard this sanctum from any profane presence, including my own. This is the most sacrosanct of houses, reader, and I the most unclean of men.

“Gib Laut, Mycroft,” He commanded, “Bridger ni.” (Speak, Mycroft, of Bridger.)

“B-B-Bridger”—my own voice echoing off the hallowed marbles scared me—“was… a child of Providence, created without parents and, as proof of that, without a belly button. Bridger could bring toys and dolls to life by touch. A miracle. Inexorable Providence made me Bridger’s guardian. I was chosen to raise and protect them for thirteen years. Te-te-ten days ago Providence snatched Bridger back, now that their work was done. I… I have some proof, and can send for more. But, if I may dare advise you, h-honored Parents of the Conclave, I don’t think you have time for these questions now. Ἄναξ Jehovah will answer any question you pose Him instantly, honestly, and completely, since to Him ignorance and pain are indistinguishable, so refusing to answer a question is a form of torture, and He will never inflict torture upon a feeling thing. But that means He’s too kind to remind you that the purpose of this meeting was not to discuss the implications of His and Bridger’s existences, but to address the current Senatorial Order, and figure out a way to help the public cope with talking about the resurrection, to guard the First Law, and the peace.”