Quoted By:
"Do you know what the Buddha did when he found Nirvana? He established a ministry that same day. He immediately sought to teach others the key to ending suffering. Can you imagine if -- if the Buddha had been selfish? If instead of abasing his self, he embraced it, embraced an endless cycle of death and rebirth as the chance to experience hedonism into infinity? A dark enlightenment, if you will. A Buddha who doesn't help the world, who sees no point in ending any but his own suffering, and that, only through infinitely sating his worldly desires. Christianity speaks of the antichrist. Your father, Wesley, is the antibuddha. And, if I am right, the worst villain in history. Worse than a million Hitlers."
You snrk. "I've heard people compared to Hitler," you say, setting down your glass, "and I've heard people called worse than Hitler. This is the first time I've heard someone called worse than a million Hitlers."
"Think about it. Think of all the suffering in the entire universe. The great and the small. From whole villages of Africans dying of hunger, to the time you stubbed your little toe twice in a row. All of it, all of it, is by design, and all just so <span class="mu-i">Alabaster Soliloquy</span> can live his perfect life. You, Wesley, are a side character in Alabaster's universe. You're a shadow puppet dancing about on the wall for his entertainment alone. Is that fair to you? To me? To the millions and billions of people who live their lives in drudgery and pain, and war, and famine, and disease, and despair? No! But you have a blessed gift. You can fix it. You can save... trillions... of lives. Quadrillions. Sextillions. You can't name a number large enough for the number of lives you hold in your hands. You have a power you cannot even reckon with. Are you going to use it or not?"
---
Dad is sitting at a chair in the study just to the right of the foyer when you come back down. He's half-slumped, sitting parallel to a broad oak table, one arm propped on top of it, staring off into the middle distance. Brooding.
"Is that asshole gone?" You ask him.
"For now."
You pull a chair up and sit facing him. "He considers you family like he considers the shit on his shoe family. He thinks you're literally Hitler. Times a trillion."
Dad gives you a weary look. "Whitney told me you went to his house. Don't do that again."
"It's good enough for Ophie, but not for me?"
"We need to minimize risks where we can. You have no reason for being there."
"Intel is a good one. I think he likes me." Dad scowls. "Wants to fuck me even, I think." Now Dad's really scowling. But he gives it up to hunch forward and massage his face with both hands. You touch his shoulder. "You want to tell me your theory of the universe now? I already got Absalom's."
Dad opens his palms in front of his face and stares at them a moment. "It's called Sand Reckoner," he says.
