“It’s not that. I’m just not sure how much I should depend on you. I could get so used to your doing things for me that I’d no longer want to do anything for myself.”
Gaia sat down and hugged her knees. Aaron sat beside her but didn’t say anything.
At last, she looked over at him and asked, “Do you really think I would make a mistake like that? Let you use me? Or make you dependent on me?”
“I hope not. But I have to confess… I don’t always understand you. I would like to though.”
“That makes two of us.” Then she smiled. “What would you like to know?”
“I—I don’t even know where to start. Where did you come from?”
She shrugged. “I’ve just always been here. Not necessarily herehere. Not even on this planet before your concept of time.”
“Really? So there was no one before you?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”
“Is there a God?”
Gaia laughed. “There are lots of gods.”
“No, not those guys. I mean, one big guy. Up there.” He pointed to the sky.
Gaia looked up, then gazed at him in wonder. “I think I know who you’re talking about, but he’s not up there.”
“Where is he then?”
Gaia let out a deep breath. “I don’t know. We don’t see each other very often. Sometimes our paths cross, especially if it looks like a huge disaster might impact both of us. Lately, I’ve been trying to get in touch, to advise him that we need to intervene before man destroys this planet and maybe others as they try to escape and start over somewhere else. Plus, with all the space junk they’re leaving up there, they could be blocking their own way out.
“We met a few years ago. I warned him that humans were creating a climate change I couldn’t fix by myself.”
Aaron sat up straight. “What did he do?”
“Nothing. He just wanted me to wait and see if the humans could figure it out for themselves. I was angry. Incensed is more like it. I think he’s avoiding me now.”
Aaron put an arm around her shoulder. “Do you think he’s still waiting for people to figure things out for themselves?”
“I imagine so. Although it’s getting harder and harder to leave this problem alone. I’d ask him again, except I don’t think I would get a different answer. He really doesn’t like to encroach.”
“I can understand that. I’m not sure I’d want to interfere either. Self-created human problems can be very confusing and complicated. Mostly because everyone thinks they’re doing the right thing.”
“It doesn’t seem that hard to me.” Gaia rose and paced. “It’s pretty simple, actually. People used to teach their children, ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’”
Aaron nodded. “Yes, the Golden Rule.”
“Golden Rule?”
“That’s what we call it. Most children learn about that idea very young but seem to forget it. Sometimes when they need it the most.”
“Exactly. How do you get them to remember italways? To have that in the forefront of their minds at every moment?” She held her hand out to him.
Aaron grasped it and rose. “If I knew the answer to that, I could probably cure a lot of the world’s ills. But unfortunately, I’m just one man. I hope I can cureoneill. Even that might be quite an undertaking, but I’d like to leave the world a better place by making that one thing possible.”
Gaia continued to hold his hand. “I’m glad Fate picked you out for me, although”—she chuckled—“I told her I had already picked you out for myself.”
Aaron grinned but looked down so she couldn’t see his eyes.
“Was that too forward of me?”
