uncanny knack of portraying humanity in the worst possible light. They go for the most sensational, sordid stories they can find, focusing on lust, greed, immorality, and a hundred other kinds of sin instead of zooming their cameras in on all the good that’s being done in the world. But we encourage it with our remote controls. We tune in to watch mankind stumble and we feed the snake.”
“People are fassssssscinated by tragedy. Go to the scene of any wreck and you’ll see that. People park their cars on the shoulder of the road and get out to have a look. Or they slow their cars down and crane their necks to see if they can spot just a hint of blood on the asphalt.”
“And that’s where the circle both begins and ends. The snake eats its tail. We delight in the misery of others. Why else do you think reality TV is such a hit these days? We want to see the fights, the debauchery, the salacious behavior. We flog ourselves daily with whips made of coaxial cable as we flip through channel after channel of sex and violence. We open our minds to immorality, and soon the deluge of sin is so strong that we can’t close the floodgates.”
The serpent smiled, showing its jagged platinum fangs. “You feed the ssssame beast that kills you. The sin may vary from person to person but it‘s all the ssssame.”
“I’ve already been told that I’m going to die in this place one way or another. I would just prefer to die a more dignified manner than in front of a television set filling my mind with rot.”
“The way you die is up to you. I have no control of that. The sssimple fact that you‘re here is up to you as well.”
“I’m here because I need to change.”
“You’re here because you didn’t change in time.” The serpent spoke in that eerie, mechanical voice I was starting to hate. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Otherwise, we might have never met.”
“You’re the tempter.”
“And you’re doomed.”
“So I’m told. But that doesn’t keep me from trying.”
“You’re wasssting your time.”
“I really need to get going.”
“There’s no hurry,” the serpent said. “You haven’t had a chance to hear what I have to ssssay.”
“Unless you can show me the way out of this place, I don’t need to hear what you have to say.”
“Are you sure of that?”
I paused, not certain of anything.
“I didn’t think so.” The serpent’s voice was hollow, emotionless and electronic. “I know why you’re here, and I know what you wanted. What would you ssssay if I told you I could give it to you?”
“You can give me my family back?”
“You weren’t on your way to see your family. Let’s not forget that. You were on your way to have a nice cup of tea---or ssssomething---with little miss Karen. You were at a fork in the road, and you chose the road that led to her. You chose to take your life in a completely different direction, and the only things that brought you here were the prayers of a certain group of people who were concerned about you. But who’s to ssssay that absolution is the best thing for you? Maybe you’d be happier with the life you were about to choose. I can give you that.”
The apple in front of my eyes showed a different scene on its picture-tube skin. It showed Karen and me walking hand-in-hand along a beach, watching a gorgeous sunset as the waves tickled our toes. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Seagulls glided across the water, plucking unsuspecting fish from the currents.
The serpent made its way down the trunk of the tree, and I was surprised to see that it had cybernetic legs of some sort that allowed it to scurry down.
“Do I have your attention?” The snake noticed the way I intently studied the forbidden fruit. “Am I showing you what you want to see? If this is little more than another channel on TV, then you can change the channel at any time or you can watch a bit more. The choice is yours.”
“I don’t want to feed you.”
“Then don’t. This is still a place of free will. Just keep in mind that I didn’t create the desires of your heart. I merely have the ability to give them to you.”
I tried to be strong. “I want my family back!”
“So change the channel.”
“I’m---not sure I can.”
“You’re not sure you want to.”
“No.” I knew