Titans of Chaos

Quentin said with quiet emphasis, "We are indeed human beings. We are merely not Homosapiens. Homo sapiens is a species, something into which one is born. Humanity one chooses. Menwho choose inhumanity are merely upright beasts."

Vanity changed the subject. "I am curious why we have not been able to get our real, originalmemories back. I used to be a princess: I saved Odysseus, according to Homer. I'm like the onlywoman in the whole dumb poem who is nice to anyone! I'm..." Her face grew blank.

"What is it?" asked Quentin, worried.

"... I'm responsible. In The Odyssey, at the end, the island of Corcyra: It's blockaded. A stonemountain fills the harbor, and the ships are cut off from reaching the human world ever again.

Neptune, the sea-god, punishes the Phaeacians for having helped Odysseus. But they didn't helphim. I did. According to the poem, I mean. I destroyed the Phaeacians. Is that-is that why theysent me away? Is that why my mother and father sent me off to be a hostage, to be put in prison?

And such a cruel prison! Aristotle said I married and had a baby. My own baby! If a woman has ababy, she can't really forget him, right?"

Vanity's voice (it was hard to make out expressions in the firelight) held such a note of pain that amoment of silence passed.

She broke the silence: "Quentin, can you get your Mafia friends, your imps or whatever they are,to find out more about us? How do we get our original selves back? Colin, or anyone else, if youhave an idea, an experiment you can try, a messenger from another world you can contact, yourFearless Leader authorizes the attempt."

Quentin said, "I am curious myself. Was I sent into this world as a penance? What did I do todeserve it?" He shook his head.

I spent more than one afternoon looking into Victor's nervous system, trying to find and stimulatemonads, or set the meaningless ripples of atoms in motion that would stimulate his buriedmemories.

Quentin worked his astronomical calculations and walked in dreams with fantastic beings whoappeared in the forms of raven-headed men, or mighty kings mounted on dromedaries andholding vipers.

Colin patiently wove himself a hammock and spent his afternoons in it, going on a dream-quest,or so he said, to find the lost dreams of our former lives.

Each night before the campfire, we shared what results we could.

Colin, one night, said he had remembered some things, including something of Quentin's andVanity's.