Two more stops before Al can stable his trolley. He’s spent
the day being the unseen miracle-grow for many busy and important luminous immortals. Making his deliveries, he’s gathered gossip
like a shepherd gathers wool and reaped smiles with his happy nature. Now he
nears the highlight of his day – leaving the office with Molly.
After seeing her Shine once, many years ago, Al hopes to see
Molly shine again. Not a stark, blinding light but a warm glow that drew out
his own strawberry gleam and made him feel part of everything in the Light.
Stopping at Molly’s desk, Al collects up her bound scrolls
and Molly helps him find Kassandra’s that, as usual, are scattered haphazardly
about her cubicle. Once all papers are
safely stored on his trolley, Al starts back toward the Record Keeper’s Office.
Walking beside Al, Molly says, “You got the wheel to stop
squeaking.”
Smiling, because she remembered, Al explains, “Lesley in Printing
oiled it.”
“I’ve never been in Printing,” says Molly, “It must be
interesting, going around the Never-Ending Office.”
“Not as interesting as watching what happens in the Wild,”
says Al, trying to dim his blazing light, after such a compliment. Taking a
breath, he asks, “What did you see today?”
“The usual disorder and chaos,” says Molly shrugging. “Having
feelings and freewill really makes a mess. There was this one immortal, a young
man in love. But then he fell in love with someone else. It’s ridiculous.”
“There must be a reason,” says Al. “Something must have
changed.”
“His feelings,” says Molly, “That was it. No thought. No
reason.”
“We can’t choose our feelings,” says Al, sliding his eyes toward
Molly’s profile.
“Mortals have freewill. They can choose to feel however they want. If they can’t, they still have a
choice about what they do with those feelings.”
“Don’t you think we
have feelings?”
“Not like mortals. We only have the desire to do what we
were made to do.”
“You only want to be an Analyst?” Al was sure Molly was made
for more. He’d seen her dance. Keeping stride with her, he could see and feel
her warm glow, but it was nothing to the moment she shone.
“It’s what I was made to do.”
“I don’t think I was made to push a trolley round all day,”
says Al, stopping outside the Record Keeper’s Officer and gathering up the
bound scrolls.
“You were made to be happy, friendly and incredibly
organised,” says Molly, placing a dropped scroll on top of the pile. “You’re
the lynch pin of the whole operation.”
Al’s smile is lost behind the pile of scrolls.
Pushing through the door, he hurries to dump them on the
Keeper’s desk fearing, that when the door swings shut behind him, Molly will
leave.
But she doesn’t. She never has.
Wrenching the door open again, he expects to see an empty
corridor, but as always, finds Molly waiting.
The friends walk out of the Never-Ending Office together.
