Free TVA BABY and Other Stories by Terry Bisson Page B

new anti-torture protocols,” said the operator. “That’s good work, and about time.”
    “How did you know about that? And how did you know I’m a lawyer?”
    She laughed. “Your shoes. I’m a lawyer too.”
    “Operating an elevator? Not that…”
    “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” quipped Father Mike.
    “It’s sort of a special assignment. About a dozen years ago, some misguided souls tried to blow up this very building, and I defended them. A little too vigorously, perhaps.”
    “Lynne Stewart!” the lawyer said. “I thought you looked familiar. I signed the petition in your case. It was very unfair, trying to disbar you. But …”
    “I’m doing community service. It’s a penalty, but a rather enjoyable one.”
    “I admire your work,” said the lawyer. “The General Amnesty especially. That got a lot of people out of prison.”
    “We met in prison,” said Ali from the darkness. “Romeo here was a guard.”
    “And Julio was a prisoner,” said Ben. “That was before the Peace Accords of course.”
    “And before the anti-torture protocols for sure,” added Ali.
    Fumbling in the darkness, they all shook hands, clumsily. “You’ll have to excuse my left,” Ben said. “Ali and I are holding hands all the way up. It’s an essential part of our private ceremony.”
    “Oh, really?” said Father Mike. This time he was rewarded with an answer:
    “Yes, five years ago, exactly, on nine-eleven, two thousand and one, we …”
    “We’re moving again!” squealed the little girl.
    And indeed they were.
    The lights came on. They all looked around at one another shyly, as if they had just met, which indeed they had.
    The door opened onto the 78 th floor skylobby.
    “We’re all one party now,” said the lawyer, hesitating in the elevator door. “I wish you could join us at the top.”
    “We all have our work to do,” said the operator with a smile. “The Up elevator is over there. This one’s going down.”
    The top of the building was flooded with sunlight. The little girl ran and looked over the east side, at the tower’s giant twin. Her mother and the Marine followed close behind.
    The lawyer stood alone in the center. “I don’t really care for heights,” he said.
    Father Mike walked to the north parapet, looking overthe city. He crossed himself and wiped away a tear. The Imam stood at his side. “Mind if I join you in a prayer?” he asked.
    He didn’t, and he did.
    After a moment they joined Ali and Ben, who were looking out over the Hudson toward New Jersey to the west.
    “You mentioned a ceremony,” Father Mike said.
    They were arm in arm, no longer holding hands.
    “Five years ago today,” said Ali, “we were in despair. We had run away to NY to be together but we couldn’t forget our families, our people, all that strife and sorrow.”
    Ben looked around to make sure the little girl wasn’t near. “We chose nine-eleven for the same reason you did. A call for help. We were going to end it all. We came up here to jump, and die hand in hand.”
    “God have mercy!” said Father Mike.
    “He did,” said Ali. “Just as we were about to step off a plane passed over. A 767. A most beautiful craft.”
    “Ali’s an aeronautical engineer,” explained Ben. “But even to me, it looked like an angel of mercy, reflecting the light. An angel of peace and world unity.”
    The Imam nudged him. The little girl was approaching.
    “And you know the rest,” finished Ali. “We decided to go home to the Middle East and work for peace.”
    “Courageous work,” said the Imam. “Especially when so many there, as well as here, were so eager to loose the Dogs of War.”
    “Aren’t you repeating yourself?” asked Father Mike. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”
    The Imam shrugged extravagantly. “Religion is all about repetition.”
    “So is love,” said Ben.
    “Here.” The little girl held out the daisy. “Mother said you were gay!”
    Her