The Hanged Man
Chapter Thirteen
A Slight Detour​
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The Hanged Man is the card of ultimate surrender, of being
suspended in time and of martyrdom and sacrifice to the
greater good.
Tonight she expected intimacy, and he had been away far too long. Helen had already hinted that she wanted to travel with him, and he assumed Antiope would soon make the same request. He sensed that the rush of financial power would eventually bore her; Antiope was a creature who needed purpose, challenge, and movement. For now, the responsibilities of Antiope Industries kept her content—almost serene.
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Qblh decided that they should spend the night incognito, away from lavish receptions or high‑society obligations. He wanted the gutters, the overlooked corners, the silent wounds of the city. If he was going to anticipate how best to defend Earth from Isis—or from itself—he needed to see the streets from ground level.
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Helen continued addressing the banquet hall, holding the audience captive by the sheer force of her presence. She had dressed more provocatively than Antiope, and it was obvious the men were paying closer attention to her curves than to her words. She knew it. She liked it.
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Antiope leaned toward Jim and whispered, “Where are we off to tonight, lover?”
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“We’re going for a walk,” he replied. “Genie can transport us. I’ll preview each area before we rematerialize to avoid attention. Genie will provide you with a wardrobe appropriate for… whatever we encounter.”
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“Is Genie with you now?”
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“Of course.”
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“Then we can manage the van again, yes?” Antiope teased. “The streets would be far more tolerable if a lady were given a ride on her cheap date rather than forced to walk. And perhaps, now and then, I’ll walk while you carry the van.”
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Jim smirked. “Genie, can we do that?”
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“Calculating,” Genie replied. “One moment.”
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Antiope laughed. “Why, Genie, you’re getting slow.”
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“I must consider several thousand variables,” Genie answered. “You appear to be requesting rematerializations in high‑crime districts while maximizing viewable human‑abuse scenarios.”
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Jim nodded. “Even in America, violations of human rights are abundant. The more advanced a society becomes, the more subtle—and pervasive—its abuses of power can be. A state always prefers its own point of view over the soul’s. People living in darkness fear the truth as much as they fear being forced to change. And the rich… they fear the poor because they fear losing what they themselves cling to.”
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He paused, thinking of Isis. She will strike humanity at its weakness.
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“I’m considering taking both of you back to another time,” he added.
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“Why?” Antiope asked.
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“Because I want to.”
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Antiope’s smile softened. “Now you have my undivided attention.”
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“I can’t be satisfied staying in one particular time field anymore,” he admitted. “She said something like that before I left her.”
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“She told you that during the ritual?” Antiope asked quietly.
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“Yes. When she named me Qblh.”
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Antiope’s expression shifted. “Jim… if you’re Qblh, then she expects you to rule Earth for her.”
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“She knows I won’t.”
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“You will if you intend to defend Earth from her. She knows you—and she does control you.”
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“Not as much as she thinks.”
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“Maybe not. But you still must deal with her. You're here as a Venetian representative—it’s in your blood. I love you, Jim.
And I will defend you to the death as your bodyguard.”
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“You no longer hold that rank.”
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“I am still your loyal servant,” she said softly.
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“Antiope,” he teased, “humility has never been your defining trait.”
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She pouted. “Don’t be cruel. I remember everything you say—tone included—better than you do.”
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“So who do these people think I am?”
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“Just another man seeking my favor. My schedule is always full. Important American men hang around me constantly. They believe you’re nothing more than an Air Force intelligence officer working for General Armstrong.”
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“They may think differently soon.”
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“You control your destiny,” she said. “That’s why you’re Qblh.”
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“I don’t have as much control as you think.”
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“Maybe you have more than you think. Your potential grows with time, Jim. Who knows what future‑you are capable of?”
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“Perhaps you expect too much.”
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“Back to Earth,” she said gently. “These people need our help. I’ve grown to appreciate their culture. I want them to have a blessed future. Your instinct to protect them was honest and noble. Isis… she’s obsessed with power. Cynical. Terrifying. I can’t imagine living in her position. We all fear her wrath.”
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She touched his hand. “You are kinder than she will ever be.”
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Jim laughed softly. “Why?”
He paused, realizing she expected an answer.
“I could tell you, but that would betray me,” he said finally. “I intend to buy time before making any final decisions. I’m taking a slight detour on my return to Artemis once Genie is fully restored. Want to come?”
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“How long will this detour take? Or should I not even ask?”
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“No time at all.”
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“You know I would love to.”
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“Then expect to leave with me tomorrow. I’ll depart, then return for you. There may be a delay—I’m not sure how much margin I’ll give myself.”
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“Do I get a say in when we go?”
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“Perhaps. Think about where you’d like to go.”
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“Jim… what about traveling to the future and coming back? You’re reluctant. Why?”
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“Perspective,” he said quietly. “And point of view.”
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“What does that mean?”
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“You want to look at the present using the future as your vantage point.”
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“And?”
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“When we traveled to the past, we avoided altering the future we remembered. Genie’s navigation system incorporates history—it prevents paradox. Jumping to the future and coming back is different. A return path isn’t guaranteed.”
He looked down at his hands.
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“I dare not change the future in a way that contradicts my own future memories. That confuses Genie’s system, and I depend on it. As you saw, its circuits can overload. If that happens, I could be stranded.”
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Antiope studied him for a long moment.
“Which means,” she whispered, “that such travel is possible.”
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