Episode 115

(New York, September 19, 2019)

“Not everything that can happen will happen,” Alana countered. “This sounds like some sophomoric philosophy debate. Based on mere idle speculation, you betrayed the woman you ostensibly loved? How devoted.”

Karkov’s eyes blazed for a moment. “Idle or no, it was not a chance I could take. There is only one universe, and even the remotest threat to it is worth addressing — no matter the cost.”

“Clearly.”

“It really would help us both if you could move past this. Perhaps I was mistaken, perhaps not. I couldn’t chance it. You conveniently overlook two important details.”

“No doubt,” Alana replied, her eyes filled with disdain. “And what might those be?”

“I didn’t have thousands of years of hindsight. Back then, it was irrelevant that nothing catastrophic had happened so far. There hadn’t been time for anything to happen yet.”

“You could have waited.”

Karkov sipped his tea delicately. “Perhaps you subscribe to a different school of thought, but I am of the belief that it is preferable to save the world before it ends. Waiting until afterward seems less heroic.”

“Is that how you see yourself? A hero?” Alana looked him up and down. “Your cape must be at the dry cleaners.”

“I guess I’ll borrow your brother’s while I wait.”

Alana cleared her throat loudly, but Karkov continued without pause.

“The theoretical possibility of conflict alone wouldn’t have driven me to such a desperate measure. There was strong reason to believe that this hypothetical could and would have become a reality. I still hold that we were in greater jeopardy then than at any time since.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Alana objected. “Our protections were new to us and, frankly, none of us were particularly sophisticated by modern standards. I imagine that the threat we pose is far greater now.”

Karkov shook his head. “You’re thinking of the wrong threat. Yes, in combat we’re probably more effective and dangerous to mortals or low numbers. And Rin, in particular, is extremely dangerous to us all. However, that’s not what I’m talking about. This isn’t a matter of our individual proficiencies. The danger comes from our very existence.”

“And that hasn’t changed,” Alana replied. “Well, not for the higher numbers — at least until Rin started murdering us.”

“Our existence remains a threat today, but a much smaller one. The world is larger, and we encounter one another infrequently. The problem was that we weren’t scattered back then. She was producing more and more of us, and getting better at it. Worse, she was simultaneously laying the groundwork for incessant strife. Anyone graced with immortality would come to believe themselves worthy of the throne, or at least some commensurate degree of power. We lived in a tiny area. The probability of the most dangerous forms of conflict was growing exponentially.”

Alana remained silent for a time and then sighed. “I suppose so.” She smiled at Karkov. “But that doesn’t mean you were right or that I believe a word you say about your own motives. You’ve had thousands of years to come up with a compelling rationalization.”

Karkov shrugged. “You’ll believe what you believe. I can only tell you what actually happened, not compel you to believe it.”

“Well, either way, now that we do have the benefit of hindsight, your doomsday scenario seems exceedingly unlikely. Even if you’re right in principle, it obviously is very hard to flummox the universe. Maybe somebody could contrive a way, but I doubt such a thing will happen naturally.”

“There very well may be some crazies out there trying to do just that.”

Alana stared at Karkov blankly. “Why would anybody want to do such a thing?”

He shrugged. “Maybe they’re tired of immortality, or maybe they’re afraid of whatever eternal suffering Rin plans for them. If there’s no eternity, they can’t suffer for it. Or the threat could come from mortals. Perhaps they know more than we think they do, and see this as a weapon against us.”

“They’d be destroyed too.”

“That may not matter to them. It could be a deterrent or a last resort. They’ve lived with a nuclear sword of Damocles hanging over them for nearly a century. Clearly, they have no qualms about threatening to end their own existence. Or maybe it’s just plain resentment. If they can’t live forever, why should anybody? Frankly, it’s not a bad trade for them. They’d give up a finite number of years — individually and as a species — and we’d lose an infinite number. In the calculus of envy, this would play out quite favorably for them.”

“That strikes me as —”, Alana began, but Karkov waved dismissively.

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he interjected. “There are few, if any, immortals who’ve reached the same conclusion as me, and probably none who would act on it. I doubt that mortals have the necessary insight or wherewithal to weigh in as a threat. Deliberate sabotage isn’t the issue.”

“It sure sounds like it,” Alana replied, more than a little peeved that Karkov had cut her off.

“Think about it,” Karkov began, his patronizing tone even more grating than usual. “As with nuclear deterrence, the biggest danger isn’t an intentional attack. It’s happenstance. The higher numbers are the real threat. Rin and me and you and Finn and any other remaining Eights, of which there aren’t that many. Rin and I are the most dangerous combination.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

To Alana’s intense surprise, Karkov blushed. “That’s not what I mean.” He quickly recovered his composure. “The chance that some random encounter would lead to a violation between me and Rin is quite high.”

Alana grinned. “I didn’t know you were into that sort of stuff.”

This drew a frown from Karkov. “I do wish you’d take this seriously. You’re the one who wanted to know, so at least try to pretend you care.”

“Does she know this?” Alana asked.

“I assume so. She’s thought about the protections more than anyone else, and she knows more about them too. Nor is she hobbled by any religious dogma.” Karkov gave Alana a pointed look before continuing. “My guess is that she is well aware of this danger.”

“Then why would she make so many high numbers? Why would she make you a Sixteen?”

Karkov looked away. “As I said, forethought isn’t her forte. Even if she had considered it at that point — which I very much doubt — she may have seen the danger as small. She was only a Four back then, so conflict with a Sixteen would only pose a modest risk. Heck, she was a girl in love. She may not have even entertained the possibility of future discord. Bear in mind that I didn’t know about the protections yet, so I couldn’t warn her.” He gave Alana a cold stare. “And I’m guessing that those who could did not.”

“But she continued after you did tell her,” Alana replied, ignoring the insinuation. “Why?”

Karkov grew somber. “I’ve asked myself that for many years. I voiced my concerns to her early on, and we had a small bout of … marital conflict … over it at the time.” He looked at Alana. “I’m sure you won’t believe this, but burying my beloved wife alive wasn’t my first choice.”

“So you say. But your logic doesn’t hold up. If you truly believed you had to stop her, then trapping her would be insufficient. Once she escaped she would just start pumping out immortals again.”

“Apparently not. I don’t know why she decided not to resume, but she did. To my knowledge she hasn’t created a single immortal since. I’ve certainly never met one, have you?”

Alana shook her head. “But this gives the lie to your original claim. She escaped and didn’t do that. Otherwise, half the world would be immortal by now. Obviously, you were incorrect and incompetent. You destroyed your marriage, tortured your wife, and turned her into a monster — and you were wrong in pretty much every possible way.”

“That’s one theory. Another is that she finally came to her senses. Perhaps she achieved this clarity because I acted. Words are just words, but seeing the man she loved sacrifice what he held dearest may have driven home the point.”

Alana laughed. “Yes, everyone knows that collapsing a few tons of rubble on your spouse is the best way to settle a marital argument. I’m sure she came around to your way of thinking. In fact, it’s clear how grateful she is.” She thought for a moment. “Then again, maybe you are responsible for her reformation. If the man she loved more than anything was capable of such a thing, who could she possibly trust with immortality? She hasn’t gotten married again, either. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s sworn off men altogether. This supposed mortal lover of hers is probably just another of your fictions.”

“I’m sure you’d love that. Then you could have her all to yourself.” Karkov scoffed. “As if she’d have you.”

Alana sighed. “I just wish you two would keep me out of your squabbles. I’d rather not end up in hell just because of something her idiot husband did.”

“Oh no, my dear. You’re going to end up in hell for all the things you did, and quite deservedly so. Her idiot husband is the reason you’re not there already.”

Alana stifled a sneer. “You want me to believe that you interceded on my behalf? You can’t even save yourself, let alone me. Even if you could, I doubt you’d lift a finger to help.”

“Well, you certainly do make it less appealing at times. But no, I didn’t ‘intercede’ on your behalf. Let me ask you this: if I had remained on good terms with her, do you think she would have turned to you and your joke of a brother for help instead of me?”

“How do you…?”

“Oh, please. Why else would you be so eager to seek me out? She probably showed up, demanded something ridiculous, and offered to postpone murdering you horribly if you did it. She’s a delicate flower, that wife of mine.”

Alana stared at the man in disbelief.

“No doubt, you’ve been trying to maneuver our conversation toward broaching the subject at the right time,” he continued.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I said quite a bit, and you appeared eager to hear it. I thought you’d be more grateful.”

Despite her shock, Alana actually was quite grateful. The man may be an inveterate liar, but at the moment he was a loquacious one. She had obtained plenty of material to cogitate on.

“We can skip to the main subject, if you wish,” Karkov offered. “Or I can first finish explaining what you seemed so eager to have explained. Your choice.”

“We may as well stay the course.”

“Yes, let’s stay the course.” Karkov smiled. “Where ‘the course’ is me telling you a lot of things you never would have otherwise gleaned, and you trying to discern which of them are true.”

Before Alan could respond, he continued.

“By now, I think you’ve put two and two together. No?”

Alana thought for a few moments.

“Do I need to connect the dots for you?” Karkov prodded.

“She is destroying immortals to prevent a catastrophic conflict from arising?”

“Bingo. Well, probably bingo. I don’t know for sure, but it seems the most likely answer. That doesn’t mean there aren’t other factors at play too, though. After thousands of years, I’m sure she has more than a few grudges to settle. Heck, maybe she holds everyone accountable for not rescuing her when I did my thing.”

Alana thought for a few moments, and Karkov watched her face so intently that she began to grow uncomfortable. She decided to dispel the awkwardness with a question.

“If she now understands your motives and agrees with you, would she still resent what you did?”

Karkov looked confused. “Have you met Rin? Have you met any woman?” He looked her over. “You are one, aren’t you?”

Alana slumped back in her chair. “Fine, fine. Point taken.”

She leaned forward again. “But you think she’s primarily doing this from a sense of duty?”

Karkov shrugged. “Who can say? That’s my theory. You should draw your own conclusion. The last time I acted on a theory of mine, it didn’t turn out so well.”

Alana chuckled. “That’s an understatement, if ever there was one.”

Karkov sat up straight. “Anyway, I think you are now beginning to grasp some of the ‘reasons’ for things.”

Alana quietly bristled at his condescension. “If what you say is true, then why would she meet with you? Wasn’t there a danger it would devolve into conflict?”

“That was entirely in her hands. Besides, she knows my protections, even if I don’t know hers. I’m sure she assessed the risks and acted accordingly. Even if conflict arose, she would have had some control over how it unfolded and how she responded to it.”

“Yet, you also met with me. Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Not particularly,” Karkov replied. “It’s the same with our roles reversed. I’m fairly confident I know your protections, even if you don’t know mine. Besides, I don’t anticipate conflict arising. You operate behind the scenes and get others to do your dirty work. I doubt you’d physically attack me here, and I certainly have no intention of physically attacking you.”

“It would be rather pointless,” Alana observed. “But, as you noted, I’m a woman. Nothing is certain.”

“Apparently, Rin saw no danger in meeting with you either,” Karkov replied. “I guess you’re not that intimidating. She met with you alone, I’d wager. If your brother were present, the danger of conflict would be much higher — especially given what she blames him for. Either way, she knows all your protections and can gauge how to safely proceed.”

Alana pouted. “A phone call would have been safer.”

“Would you have believed her or feared her or obeyed her if it was a phone call? Would you even have picked up? Do you even have a phone?”

Alana produced a clunky vintage cellphone, and Karkov burst into laughter. “That really suits you.”

“Fuck you.”

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

“And I think you’re miscalculating. If what you say is true, then we don’t need to engage in fisticuffs for a problem to arise.”

“Fisticuffs? Has anybody said that word in the last century. Oh wait, somebody just did.” Karkov smiled. “You’re worried that if I stumble onto you, we could create a devastating conflict?”

“Oh, could we really?” Alana pressed her hands together, grinning sweetly. “Do you plan to ‘stumble’ onto me?”

“No man with an ounce of sense would willingly do that,” Karkov replied dryly. “But I wish you wouldn’t make light of this. The consequences could be severe.”

“Of my making light of it or of your stumbling?”

In response to Karkov’s severe expression, Alana sat back and smiled. “Oh, lighten up. It hasn’t happened so far. We’ve met many times, as have other Eights. For that matter, I spend a large amount of time with another Eight, and we’re almost always in conflict.”

“I imagine so, but probably not physically.”

“The occasional scuffle doesn’t seem to do any harm.”

Karkov smirked. “Is ‘scuffle’ the word for it these days? Although, in your case, maybe ‘scuffle’ was the word for it two hundred years ago.”

Alana stared at him. “Look, Rin’s been offing immortals one by one, and no such ‘conflict’ has arisen. I can’t think of a bigger likelihood than that. If this thing you fret over is plausible, it really would have happened by now.”

“That’s not sound reasoning, and you know it.” Karkov adjusted his glasses once again, and Alana wondered why he even bothered with them. No affectation could make him seem more pompous than he already was. “What is it that people in finance always say?” he continued. “Past performance is no indication of future behavior. The world is changing, perhaps in a way that makes such things more likely. I don’t know.”

Alana leapt at this. “You’re right. You don’t know. We don’t know anything for sure.” Was she trying to convince him or herself?

“At least, you said ‘we’.”

“I don’t purport to have any deep insight. You’re the one pretending.”

“Perhaps I am,” Karkov replied. “But pretending to do something is better than committing to do nothing.”