The phone was ringing again. He walked over to the STU lying on the desk by the window. The Fugue rippled through the heavy air. He picked up the STU, pressed to answer, and the fugue stopped.
It’s me, Lem.
Who else would it be?
I’m worried about you. We both are. Yani and I.
Hi, Father. It’s Yani. I’m on the line too.
Hi, Yani. It’s good to hear your voice.
You are taking your love of Ellen too far. She’s dead. You can’t resuscitate her. You’ve taken her to the end of time and back. No more. You must look away. You must bury her. She’ll drag you over the edge with her.
And another thing, Father. You have become a character in your own story, like us. It isn’t healthy to create your own life. You’re in danger of being pulled into a metaphysical recursion.
It’s too late. I know how the story is going to end. I just don’t know how I’ll react to it.
You can’t stay in that cabin another moment. You have to escape before she returns.
How the hell do I do that, Lem?
Stay with us at the Refuge, Father.
I appreciate the offer, Lem and Yani, but what good would that do? I’d still be stuck in the same metaphysical recursion.
At least it would take your mind off Ellen for a while until you’ve regained your perspective.
I don’t think I could live without her.
Don’t talk like that, Father. We’ll think of something. We always do.
I wish I could believe that.
Walk to the door and open it now.
Why would I do that, Lem?
Will you stop asking questions for once in your life and open that door?
I’ve opened the door, Lem. What do I do now?
You walk through it.