The Weapon - Resurrection - part 8
By Diana the Valkyrie
The idea of heaven
Update: 22/05/2003 to valkyrie05


Why do we do things like this to each other? And, damn us all to the seventh
level of hell, why did we do this to her?

The whole idea of heaven is to reduce the pain of loss, and hold out the
promise of reunion. In her case, it was having exactly the opposite effect;
increasing the pain of loss by giving her a permanent, ongoing feeling of
separation, guilt and broken vows. And the promise of reunion was replaced by
a promise of permanent separation. She took it all literally. People pick and
choose which parts they're going to believe, but Wendy had swallowed the whole
thing intact because Duncan had told her about heaven. And it meant that the
issue wasn't 23 years old. It was current. It was a running sore, an open
wound. How could she heal, as long as she could see Duncan waiting for her,
missing her, needing her?

I felt sure that McPherson hadn't meant any harm. He simply didn't understand
the situation. He didn't know that she was The Weapon, he couldn't have known
the pain that he would cause with his speculation about who might or might not
have a soul. And Wendy didn't seem to realise that she'd taken on board the
dogma of one religion out of millions. Others would have given her quite
different stories, and who can tell which of them is right? If indeed any of
them have a good grip on the truth.

I was sitting on the floor next to a tight ball of unhappiness, and all I
could do was stroke her hair and try to think what I could do. The first thing
that occurred to me was to punch McPherson on the nose for the part he'd
played in getting her into this state. And that led to the more rational
thought, that if he'd helped to get her this far down, maybe he could help to
lift her spirits up a little.

I waited a bit until her shoulders stopped shaking, then I tried to encourage
her to uncurl. After a while, she showed me her face, and she looked awful;
red puffy eyes, streaks down her face. Intellectually, I knew that this was
just an emulation, she'd just altered her appearance. But the effect on me was
what you'd expect, and anyway, although it was an emulation, the feelings she
was displaying were real.

I dug a tissue out of the box, and helped her wipe her face and blow her nose.
Once more I was struck by the accuracy of her emulation, and then I thought,
I'm being stupid here, she's just showing how she feels the same way we do,
the only difference is that we do it unconsciously, whereas she has control
over the effects.

Then I made my suggestion. "I'd like to come with you to church, and I'd like
to set up a meeting with Father McPherson, me and you." She looked at me, and
nodded. "And when we go to see him, I'd like you to be wearing your costume."

She stood up, and I got up to follow her. In the moment that I'd taken my eyes
off her, she'd changed. Her jet black hair was glossier and longer, down to
her waist, with a curl and a bounce. Her tunic was white, with a big W on the
front, in gold. She wore a white skirt down to mid-thigh, calf-high black
boots, black gloves and a black leather belt. And a cape. A long white cape,
very full, and reaching down to the ground. "Like this?" she said.

I was dumbfounded. It wasn't that she'd changed so fast, I'd already seen her
do that. It was the difference in her appearance, it was like seeing a dull
caterpillar turn into a beautiful butterfly. Suddenly I wasn't looking at a
weepy helpless female, suddenly I was facing The Weapon, the Guardian of
Humanity, with the power to break anything up to and including a star. She was
magnificent.

And my body reacted in the way that we do react to sudden danger; the surge of
adrenalin that made my heart beat faster and increased by blood pressure, the
faster breathing to oxygenate that blood, the full human fight-or-flight
mechanism.

"Like this?" she repeated. My mouth was open as I nodded. I tried to say
"Yes", but something had temporarily dried up my power of speech, and all that
came out was "Uh."

She looked at me. "Oh, I've scared you." I shook my head; scared wasn't really
the right word, it was more that I was awe-struck. "David, you don't have to
be scared of me, I wouldn't hurt you." I shook my head. She sighed, and came
close to me, putting her arms around me, and her cape billowed out and around
me, wrapping me up like she had in the park to keep out the cold. "Don't be
frightened, baby."

I just stood there, gradually calming myself down. It seemed like we were
taking turns; first I'd upset her then try to soothe her, then she'd scare me
and try to reassure me.

After a while, she let me go, and stepped back. Then she changed back into her
plain grey dress, the same dress she'd been wearing as a waitress. And she
looked a lot less threatening like that, she just looked like any other woman
might. "I'm sorry I frightened you," she said. "No, it's OK," I replied, "you
were fine, I just wasn't expecting it, that's all." That was a complete lie,
of course.

She frowned at me. "Why are you lying to me?" she asked. Oh shit, I thought.
"I was scared because you look very intimidating in your costume, and it made
me suddenly realise just how powerful you are. But I was trying to be nice
about it, so I told a lie. But Wendy, how did you know I lied?" "Oh," she
answered, "I can usually tell when someone's lying to me. That's why I know
that Father McPherson is telling the truth." "How can you tell when someone is
lying?" "Well, there's a whole bunch of things; sweat on the skin, facial
expression, electrical activity in the brain and so on and so no; put them all
together and you can usually detect a lie."

I could see that would be a rather useful capability. I could also see that
I'd have to avoid the usual little white lies and diplomatic evasions that are
part of the normal social interaction. I didn't want her to get the idea that
I was untrustworthy. But the big problem with her lie-detector, was that it
wasn't going to be able to detect someone telling her a complete fabrication
that they utterly believed in.