Free Deviation by Scott M. Williams

here is that
you've killed a man. You feel bad about this because you're
assuming that you've done something wrong. But all you've done is
to save your own life, and god has no problem with that. He doesn't
care. You probably step on bugs or swat flies every once in awhile,
and kill them, too. It's the same thing. We're all little bundles
of protoplasm, bouncing off things and reproducing. A shit beetle
or a human being, it's all the same to god.”
    “Okay. So
you're saying that I don't need to worry about being judged by god.
For anything. But I still have a dead body in my apartment, and I'm
still a... a murderer ...
oh, god...” She began to visibly tremble.
    “Relax. We're all murderers. Even birds and
Giant Chinese Salamanders. It's part of being alive.”
    She looked at him.
“We all kill bugs, but this is different. At least to me.
You have no idea what it feels like to... to have killed someone...”
    “And there you go, assuming again.”
    She stared at him, her stomach in knots. “You...
you've killed before?”
    Frank shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “Perhaps.
Perhaps I had no choice, much as I believe you didn't. Or perhaps
I did have a choice. It doesn't really matter. What matters is
that my actions have not caused me to be admonished by god. Neither
have yours.”
    Dianne was astonished. “Who did you kill,
Father?”
    Frank leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily.
“That's a rather invasive question.”
    She flinched as if struck. “I'm sorry! I
didn't mean --”
    “It's okay. But let's get back to your problem.
Your problem is that you're worried about what you've done, not
necessarily because it's immoral, but because it is illegal. Your
problem is the police, not god.”
    She nodded. She didn't remember why she'd brought up
god in the first place. “Yes. What should I do?”
    “What do you want to do?”
    Dianne hung her head. Sometimes it seemed as though
Father Frank knew everything, and other times it seemed as though he
just made things up as he went along. “I want the body to
disappear,” she said softly. “I don't want to get into
any trouble with the police.”
    Frank was nodding again. “Let me ask you this.
Is that really what you want? Or is that what you feel like you're
supposed to want?”
    She thought about it. “It's what I want. I
want to be over and done with it.”
    “Why?”
    Dianne sighed. “Why wouldn't I?”
    “You're not thinking, Dianne. Not really. God
has given us the gift of free will, and of free thought, and yet so
many of us refuse to even attempt to use them. Are you really
telling me that you want things to go back to the way they were
before you ever met this Cliff character?”
    “Yes. I want my old life back.”
    Frank guzzled some beer. “Tell me about this
life, Dianne. What does it consist of?”
    “I'm not sure what you mean.”
    “Where do you work? What do you do?”
    “I told you, I'm a data entry clerk. I work for
a company called KBS Industries, downtown.”
    “And you like it there?”
    She shrugged. “Not really. It's okay. It pays
the rent.”
    “Dianne... the reason I asked you what you want
is because I want you to really consider your options. Think about
your life, and about who you are. Think about the time you have
left here, in this world. Is working at KBS Industries, and
inputting data for them, really your true calling?”
    She thought it was a silly question. “Of course
not.”
    “Well then, please think. Tell me what you
really want. Don't hold back. I'm not suggesting for one minute
that you can really have what you want, or achieve whatever it is
you may desire, but for the sake of our little conversation here,
try to tell me what it is that you truly want to do with your life.
We both know it's not to be a data entry clerk in downtown
Milwaukee.”
    The statement caused her to smile, and she quickly
lifted her beer and took another drink. “I guess I've never
really thought about it in that scope