Everyone Owes God a Good Death

This phrase is echoed throughout book two.

It is little changed of course from Shakespeare’s Feeble

“By my troth, I care not. A man can die but once. We owe God a death.” in Henry IV, part 2.

It suggests a certain stalwart fortitude which is seemly before the battle that Feeble expects in the morning, going on to say that a death on the morrow should get him good accommodations in the next world.

I mean something different.

We human beings have this being from outside this world, outside this cosmos. We are created things, not randomly spliced together. If we are merely random then our deaths and lives are meaningless and you would not be bothered to read these words, the inconstant jottings of an error-prone mind, itself a mistake of nature.

We are created things. Created for a purpose, just like the computer entities Edie and Cain. We have rented these lives, only to relinquish them in time to the Landlord and give an accounting of our tenancy.

It is in the leaving of the rental property of our lives that accountings are made. The Landlord is forgiving, fortunately. He loved us enough to create us. But death is still a leave-taking and our debt is still to the one who owns the digs we have put our feet up in for a lifetime.

Only the Wounded May Heal

“ONLY THE WOUNDED MAY HEAL”–Speaker, of the Scorch
As it happens, I put this into the mouth of a plant in the third novel.

Sort of a plant, of course, is Speaker.

It is ambivalent. How else would a part lichen (a symbiosis of fungus and algae to start with) and a man, speak?

He has lost his country, his life, his name and most of his speech by the time he is discovered by the boy who will grow up to be Jesse Johnstone.

Does Speaker mean you have to be wounded yourself to be a healer?

Does he mean that without a wound that there is nothing to heal?

Does he mean that the entrance exam to becoming a healer is a wound?