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“More like the other way around,” the doctor says. “Sure, when we first heard the idea, we were all dubious”—his eyes go a little euphoric—“but when you’re here, in the presence of Tyler, you realize you don’t want to be anywhere else.”
“I sold my home and gave everything to the foundation,” someone else says. “They didn’t ask for it. I just wanted to give it.”
“He’s here with us, Risa,” CyFi tells her. “You don’t have to believe it, but we all do. It’s a matter of faith.”
It’s all too strange, too foreign for Risa to embrace. She thinks of the many other “revival communes” that have sprung up, thanks to the Tyler Walker Foundation. Their existence is another unexpected consequence of unwinding—a convoluted solution to an even more convoluted problem. She doesn’t fault CyFi or any of these people. Instead she blames the world that made this place necessary. It galvanizes her more than ever to bring an end to unwinding once and for all. She knows she’s only one girl, but she also knows she’s a larger-than-life icon now. People love her, fear her, despise her, revere her. All these elements can make her a force to be reckoned with, if she plays her cards right.
That night, before everyone goes to bed, there’s a ritual that CyFi lets her witness.
“We played with a bunch of ideas—silly stuff mostly—like lying on the ground in the shape of a body, in our respective positions. Or huddling together in a little room, all squeezed in like clowns in a car, to reduce the space between us. But all that crap just felt weird. In the end we settled upon this circle. Simpler is better.”
The circle, which is at the center of the garden, is marked by stones, each one engraved with the name of a part—even the parts that aren’t there have a place. Everyone sits in front of their respective stone, and someone—anyone—begins to speak. There seem to be no rules beyond that. It’s a free-for-all, and yet they never seem to speak over one another. Risa notices that it’s the people who got Tyler’s brain that seem to motivate most of the conversation, but everyone participates.
“I’m pissed off,” someone says.
“You’re always pissed off,” someone else responds. “Let it go.”
“I shouldn’t have stolen all that stuff.”
“But you did, so get over it.”
“I miss Mom and Dad.”
“They unwound you.”
“No! I can stop them. It’s not too late.”
“Read my lips: They . . . unwound . . . you!”
“I feel sick to my stomach.”
“I’m not surprised the way you scarfed down that brisket.”
“It tasted like Grandma’s.”
“It was. I convinced Mom to give us the recipe.”
“You talked to her?”
“Well, to her lawyer.”
“It figures.”
“I remember Mom’s smile.”
“I remember her voice.”
“Remember how cold she was toward the end?”
“Sorry, not part of my memory.”
“There’s so much stuff I wanna do, but I can’t remember what it was.”
“I remember at least one thing. Skydiving.”
“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”
“Maybe it will,” says CyFi. Then he asks, “How many of you would skydive for Tyler?”
