“So she can toy with emotions,” I said sullenly. “Like you.”
“Not at all like me,” he said. “I can affect your direction, can alter your emotions. A strong Athena can direct an entire society toward a program of space exploration or get it to embrace the arts with a fervor nearly bordering on religious zeal. They are inspiration and can drive the mind of man to new heights. I can only direct people at the level they are currently at, toward anger, fear, contentment, whatever. Athena could inflame the emotions of entire societies but only in a positive direction.” His eyes bored into mine. “One of those things she was goddess of—one of her powers—was to make righteous warfare. Do you know what righteous warfare is?” I shook my head. “Perhaps an outdated concept in the modern world, but it was—in the original Athena’s words—the most difficult state to induce, especially for one used to directing the arts, the law, and all these other emotions, because it involved taking a person, or a society, and dipping them into a realm usually reserved for truly horrible things. Making war, on the surface, would seem like a wholly unrighteous endeavor, and it often can be. But there is justification, at times, for harsh action, and this is the area that Athena specialized in.”
Janus took his hand and put it on my upper arm, grasping me. I could feel his grip through my shirt and it was strong, reassuring. “Simple vengeance is not just warfare. I do not want you to think that. What you have done so far, with your M-Squad, and what you mean to do with Winter, these things are not righteous. Your anger is righteous. The desire for vengeance is human, entirely human. But there are greater purposes, things that justify doing what you have done. There are justifications for killing a man. Not in the way you have done it, I think, save for with Wolfe and Gavrikov, but they do exist.”
“You think I made a mistake,” I said, but I didn’t pull away from him.
“I think you let your emotions carry you into thinking you were righteous, and now you realize the folly of that.” He leaned closer toward me. “But you and I have talked about monsters, and you know that this is the first step to becoming one, to kill easily, indiscriminately.”
“They wronged me,” I said, and felt the anger boil over in emphasis as I said it. “They—”
“Oh, yes, they did,” Janus agreed. “And so will the next, and the next, until at last you look at the grievance for which you just killed a man and realize that it was because he was standing in your way as you tried to pass.” He thought about it for a moment. “Actually, that seems to happen a lot nowadays, often in the automobiles with the road rage.” He became serious again. “But the path from where you are to thinking that any killing is justified because you will it—because they stand between you and what you want—this is not a one-step process, and you decide what your next step is. I would suggest to you that you find something else to fill the emptiness that you are currently staring into within yourself.”
“I’m not …” I felt sullen again. “I’m not empty.”
“Oh, no? Then what would you do with yourself if I turned you loose right now and asked you to fill the next five days on your own, without any plan or other ideas?”
I swore under my breath. “I … I don’t know. Be a tourist,” I said, but I didn’t believe it.
“Oh, no, you’re not empty at all,” Janus said. “This is the dark side of obsession, the empty feeling you get when you’re not doing what you’re intended. What will you do when Winter is dead? Hang out about your house? Study the snowfalls of Minnesota while the world of metas burns around you?” He smiled but he looked grim. “You are no monster.”
“How do you know?” I asked trying not to sound as small as I felt.
“Because a monster,” Janus said, “wouldn’t care how many people Wolfe killed in the mad rush to get to them. They would only care that it wasn’t them.” With that, he stepped back and let go of my arm and pressed the emergency stop button again. The horn ceased, the lift shuddered, and we started up again.
“That was a long time ago,” I said.
“Yes, well,” Janus said, and I could tell something was weighing on him heavily. “I suppose we’ll see how you feel about it shortly.” My ears perked up and I gave him a quizzical look. “There was a cloister of metas in an English village not far from here. We were not associated with them, but we knew of them. They are … quiet, now, shall we say.”