It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,63
Guardian’s face. “It is not.”
Shepard and Marmaroth raise their heads and peer down over the dais. Azbaugh’s eyes narrow like a hawk’s. But it’s Sal going in for the kill that makes me smile. “It seems that his future is still tentative, barring the outcome of this decision.”
“But how is that possible?” Sal asks, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “The Akashic Records are not fluid. They are fact, are they not?”
Yeats clears his throat. “In all my time as a Guardian, a charge’s future has always been set. However, I do not believe RJ’s role in Daniel’s decision has taken place yet.”
“Please,” Sal says, his arm sweeping toward the crowd. Is it my imagination or is he getting more theatrical by the minute? “Enlighten us.”
Yeats nods. “It is RJ who convinces Daniel to pursue his dream of being a doctor when everyone else says he can’t do it. Her belief in him and his passion for finding a cure is the combination that makes his discovery possible.”
There is a tremor of talking that grows with each passing second.
“Silence!” Azbaugh yells over the chatter. “There will be silence!” When no one listens, he opens his mouth and a deafening sound, something between a shriek and a sonic boom, comes out of it. Everyone, including the angels, cower low to the floor. As for me, I’m in the fetal position under the table, my hands pressing my ears tight against my skull. Finally the noise stops and I look up to see the steady, weathered hand of my grandfather reaching down to help me up. I accept it and stand to see people reclaiming their seats in silence. Except for one person, that is.
“I hate it when he does that,” Death Himself mutters, straightening his bright orange Hawaiian shirt.
“I heard that,” Azbaugh’s gravelly voice rings out and more than a few souls flinch. He gives one last glare in Death Himself’s direction before turning to Yeats. “Let me get this straight. Are you saying there is a conditional future in the Akashic Records?”
Yeats nods. “I have never seen something like it before. After holding council with several of the Akashic Record Keepers, the only rational reason is that RJ’s future is undecided.”
Sal interjects. “Is Daniel’s life the only one with, as Azbaugh says, a conditional future?” He gives the Tribunal a triumphant look, almost as smug as Azbaugh’s normal face. I can see now why Gideon picked him to defend me.
Yeats shakes his head. “No. In fact, almost every file shares this common trait.”
“Are there any that don’t have notations?” Sal presses.
Yeats nods. “Yes, but almost all of the Records in question have expiration dates prior to Daniel’s decision to attend medical school.”
Azbaugh speaks up before Sal can ask any more questions. “But not everyone in the world will develop cancer.”
“This is true,” Yeats replies, “but the Keepers theorize that, since cancer impacts not only the life of the patient, but all those who know the person, the impact has a ripple effect. Until her fate is settled, theirs cannot be. Remember, Brother, humans are sentimental creatures.”
Azbaugh shakes his head. “Mortals,” he says with contempt.
So it’s not just me Azbaugh doesn’t like. He hates my entire species.
Sal nods thoughtfully. “Why did people have a future at all if their lives were so tied to the outcome of RJ’s appeal?”
Yeats looks a little less confident and I feel the bottom of my stomach drop. “They did not know the answer to that question. All they could do was posture a theory.”
“You mean guess?” Marmaroth confirms.
Yeats gives a tense nod in response.
Seeing Azbaugh lean forward to speak, Sal steps up to ask the next question. “And what was their theory?”
“They believe the futures are based on the best possible outcome.”
“Which would be?” Sal prods.
“Because RJ is referenced as a determining factor in Daniel’s future, they believe in order for the majority of the futures to become solidified that RJ’s appeal must be approved. Once she returns to Earth to complete her life journey, they expect the Records to right themselves once again.”
“And were there any other possibilities?” Sal asks.
“This was the only theory the Keepers could agree on,” he says with a shrug.
Sal turns to the Tribunal. “I have no further questions, Brothers.”
Azbaugh looks first to Shepard and then at Marmaroth. When neither speaks, he gives a flick of his hand. Yeats stands and then walks across the room and exits through the back door. Not once does he look at me.