July 1997
Carl slumped in his chair, eyes staring blankly at the screen, and listened to the unrelenting hum of his computer. There was an essay due tomorrow and he didn�t know what to write. For the umpteenth time, Carl reread the prompt, aloud: "Outline Nietzsche�s views on the existence of God. Agree or disagree with Nietzsche�s argument, incorporating both logic and personal experience in your response. The assignment should be approximately 2000 words."
The hard part wasn�t the Nietzsche. Carl had a good mind, and could paraphrase Nietzsche well enough to get a fair grade. But he wanted something better. He wanted to impress the professor with a meaningful essay, with something that fused the best of morality and reasoning. Carl banged his hand against the desk, making a loud sound. He had been sitting here for half an hour, and had got almost nothing done. He hated that. Why was everything so gray? "god," he typed, deliberately leaving it small. "god god god god god." In disgust, he deleted the line.
Across the room, Carl�s roommate stirred at the bang of Carl�s hand on the desk. He didn�t have anything to do. "What�s taking you so long?" Adam drawled. "I thought you said this assignment would be a piece of cake."
Carl swiveled his chair to glare at his roommate. Adam was lying on his bed, his head propped up on a pillow, watching him. He was wearing blue jeans and a striped T-shirt done up in dark, conservative hues. How could Adam always be so clean, Carl wondered. It pissed him off sometimes. Seeing Carl�s disapproving expression, Adam�s grin got broader.
"So what�s the deal?" Adam asked. "I thought you wanted to go out tonight."
"I don�t think so, Adam," Carl said, irritated. Adam was right, of course. "You try writing an essay about the existence of God. It�s harder than it looks."
Adam shrugged. "Yeah, well," he mumbled, searching for a comeback. "You�re allowed to use personal beliefs, right?"
"Yeah," Carl said brusquely. I don�t have time for you, Adam, he wanted to say. Shut up. He started to turn back to the computer screen.
"Well, just say God exists, and you believe it on faith, and that�s that," Adam said triumphantly. "Big deal. You can B.S. your way through it. You�ve done it a million times before."
"I don�t believe in God," Carl said, looking Adam straight in the eye.
"All right, all right," Adam said, holding up his hands. "I didn�t think you did. That�s your business. Sheesh. Just write something down and let�s go."
"It�s not that simple, Adam," Carl said, adopting his lecturing tone. "You have to justify what you write down. This is moral reasoning, not a religion class."
"So justify." Adam was getting a little tired of this conversation.
"Justify." Carl mocked Adam�s tones. "It�s not that simple. That�s why I had to read all this Nietzsche. I have to prove God exists. Or not." He paused. "Probably the latter. I think that would be the easy way out."
"That�s where you and I differ, my friend," Adam said, sitting up. "I don�t need logic to see what I believe. I believe, I believe."
"That�s useless," Carl said, cutting Adam off. "Come on. I gotta finish this." He turned back to the screen.
A few minutes later, Adam noted, "I haven�t heard you type anything yet."
Carl rounded on Adam, but there was denying the truth. "O.K., so I haven�t." It sounded lame, even to him, but he didn�t like admitting he was wrong.
"Maybe God�s telling you not to say he�s dead," Adam joked.
"You�re such a card-carrying Christian," Carl complained, thinking of how Adam read the Bible and prayed every night.
Adam shrugged. "Maybe God�s telling you to take a break."
"Fuck you," Carl said, not unkindly. "All right. Half an hour. Where do you want to go?"
"Too cold to go anywhere outside," Adam said. "Let�s just go across the hall to Matt�s room, and hang out for a while. That�s good enough. Then you can come back to this Nietzsche shit with a fresh mind." He stood up, ready to go.
"Nietzsche isn�t shit," Carl said. "Yeah, let�s see what�s going on with Matt. We can play a war game over the Internet. Hell, this God thing is getting on my nerves."
"It�s important you know," Adam said, opening the door. His tones were light but his face was serious.
Carl walked out of the room. He didn�t want to piss off Adam; they were roommates, after all. "Well, I gotta think about it some more. But I don�t think God exists. Nietzsche proved it, with logic, and I think the same thing too. In fact, I can prove it," he said, locking the door with a click. A good feeling, knowing something for sure.
"There�s gotta be something out there," Adam protested. But he didn�t want to make a scene. "Come on, put it out of your mind. This is supposed to be your break."
Carl and Adam walked through the hall to Matt�s room. There was light when Carl squinted through the peephole; that was a good sign. Carl banged on the door with a fist. "Enter!" they heard Matt call immediately, from the inside. Carl roughly kicked the door open and went in. Adam followed, closing the door carefully behind him.
Matt�s room was small. A fluorescent light cast a sickly white radiance from above and there was the stink of day-old pizza in the air. The trash was overflowing with food wrappers and crumpled papers, and what little of the desk space not filled up by the computer was covered by books. The carpet was stained, and a cheap plastic sheet was drawn over the window.
Matt himself was sprawled on the carpet, reading a book in a yellow pool of light from a desk lamp. His baggy blue jeans and white T-shirt were rumpled and stained, which was usual. The day his parents had left him he had gotten himself a gold earring. By his hand was a pack of cigarettes, already torn apart.
Matt followed Carl�s glance. "You wanna smoke later, boy?"
"Yes," Carl said, intensely. "I need it, man. For my nerves."
Matt chortled. "I got you hooked, man. I got you hooked." He laughed, pleased with himself. "What�s going on? What�s with the nerves?"
"Nietzsche," Carl said. "Nietzsche. God. That�s where it�s at." He never could match Matt�s street slang.
Adam asked diffidently, "Carl and I were wondering if we could play a game over the Internet. Is that okay?"
Matt sat up. "Yeah," he drawled, tossing the cigarettes aside. "That�s cool. I wanted some action anyway. Here. I�ll set it up. Let�s go." Matt headed over to the computer and woke it up.
Carl prowled the room, his mind still on Nietzsche, and his essay. Carl had one of the minds that just wouldn�t let go. God doesn�t exist, he told himself. God doesn�t exist. I have to think like that. I have to prove it.
"Chill, man." Matt gestured magnanimously. "You�re like a stalker or something."
Adam looked for somewhere to sit. Matt had the only chair, and the floor was dirty. That left the bed, which was covered with dirty sheets. Adam gingerly sat on the edge.
"Crap," Matt said. "I have to reinstall the CD. You don�t mind waiting, right?" he asked, not expecting a response. Matt cracked the case open and punched a button. The drive popped open with a whir and he put the disc in. "Okay. This�ll take about five minutes."
"Why do you have to reinstall the CD?" Carl demanded. "Don�t you just install it once, and it keeps on going?"
Matt laughed. "They give you ten free hours every time you install the CD. So I can keep playing games on the Internet for as long as I want. They never caught me yet. The only thing is I have to wait awhile." He shrugged. "That�s O.K."
"Cool, man." Carl said, still prowling around. Ethics weren�t that big a deal. "That sounds cool."
"That�s like stealing," Adam cut in, shocked.
"Yeah," Matt said, not bothering to argue. The screen flickered, giving a status indicator for the installation. "So?"
"That�s like stealing," Adam said again. "That�s not right. Won�t they catch you?"
"They might," Matt said peaceably. "They haven�t yet. So I continue." He punched a few more buttons.
"Well, don�t you feel bad?" Adam asked. "I know I would. It�s like against God or something."
"I don�t care," Matt said. He sounded like he didn�t.
Carl cocked his head. "I find this very philosophically interesting," he said. Maybe he could use this in his Nietzsche essay. "So you don�t care about God."
"I do," Adam said plaintively.
"Wasn�t talking to you," Carl snapped, deriding him. He had had enough of Adam. "You are not relevant to the conversation."
Matt shrugged. "I care, I care," he said. Then he changed his mind. "No, actually I don�t. What the hell. I don�t believe in God."
Carl raised his voice. "Then what the hell is this ?!" he demanded, pointing at a cross hanging from the doorknob of Matt�s closet.
Matt looked over his shoulder. The installation was almost complete. "Oh, that? I keep it in case I�m wrong."
Carl took the cross into his hands. It was a big cross, about nine inches long. It was plastic and covered with gaudy gold paint. Carl twirled it in his hands, back and forth, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. The more he held it, the more sure he got that God wasn�t real. How could anything be logical about something cheap like this? "This is a piece of shit, my friend."
Adam cut in, angry. "God is real."
The computer screen turned bright red. "Installation complete," Matt announced. He turned to Carl. "I don�t know if God�s real or not. I don�t think he is. But I keep the cross there in case I�m wrong." He paused, reflectively. "You know, things would be a lot easier if I believed in God." He paused again, shaking himself. "But I don�t." Matt turned back to the computer, ejecting the CD, opening up the game. "Come on, let�s go."
Carl tossed the cross back and forth between his hands. "In case you were wrong," he sniggered. "In case you were wrong." He hummed a little tune between his lips.
Adam was looking determinedly at the ground.
"Hey, guys," Matt said. "I forgot. For each reinstall, we need to choose a name."
Adam looked up. "What name?" he asked. "What name?"
Matt explained. "It�s the name other players know you as. The shitty thing about reinstalling is I never get to build up a good rep, because I have to change my name. You want a name that�s hard-core. You want something that defines you."
Carl squinted at the cross. "God is dead," he suggested.
Adam laughed. He couldn�t help himself.
Matt considered. "Okay," he said, typing it in: God is dead.
"Capitalize it!" Carl yelped, tossing the cross onto the floor. "Capitalize it! Proclaim it to the world!"
Matt retyped: GOD IS DEAD. He smiled. "I like it," he said. "It�s cool."
Adam looked askance at Carl. "It�s just a game. Where is that from, anyway? Is that from your philosophy books or something? Or is it just something on your chest?"
Carl sobered up. "It�s Nietzsche, man," he said reverently. "It�s all in Nietzsche."
"Come on, let�s go," Matt said impatiently. "Hey Adam. Want to type?"
"Sure," Adam said, positioning himself.
"God is dead," Carl said out loud, to no one in particular. It was almost like a mantra now.
Matt set up the scenario, and they waited for someone to come into the chat room to play. In a few seconds, the screen blinked:
<>Whitey entered the room
"Talk to him, boy," Matt ordered, shoving Adam, light glinting off his earring.
<>GOD IS DEAD: hi
<>Whitey: hi
"Ingenious, Adam," Carl said sarcastically. "Ask him if he likes our name."
Adam typed.
<>GOD IS DEAD: like my name?
No response.
"Well, maybe he can�t appreciate Nietzsche," Carl said, disappointed.
"Dispense with the formalities," Matt ordered, flicking the mouse cursor around the screen. "I want to play. Let�s go."
<>GOD IS DEAD: lets go
<>Whitey: ok
"All right!" Matt said, locking the room and clicking to start the connection. "We have a serious player! Let the massacre begin!"
Adam looked down, trying to tell himself he was having fun.
"God is dead," Carl whispered, deliberately stepping on Matt�s cross.
The screen cleared and the three saw their tactical map. Most of it was dark, waiting to be explored, but in the lower right corner they had a red soldier and a construction truck. Matt deployed the truck, turning it into a construction yard. Quickly, he built a power plant, a barracks, and an ore refinery. Soon, his ore trucks were mining the ground, giving him more money to build.
Carl stamped his foot, impatient, excited. "Talk to him, man," he ordered Adam. "Harass him. That�s the point of having two men playing at the same time. One plays the game with the mouse. The other types shit in to get the enemy distracted. If the enemy is angry he isn�t playing the game."
Adam typed.
<>GOD IS DEAD: hi
<>Whitey: hi
Ignoring the conversation, Matt started building a war factory.
"You can do better than that," Carl said derisively. "You gotta talk trash, boy. You gotta take away his faith." He laughed, pleased with himself.
Matt ordered his war factory to start producing heavy tanks.
Adam ignored Carl�s sniggers. "Hey, look at that," he said, pointing at the screen. "What�s that white dot mean?"
"It�s a scout. It�s coming from the northwest," Matt noted. "Let�s see what he�s throwing at us." A pause, then a snarl of disgust. "It�s a jeep, man. A lousy jeep. Anybody who builds a jeep should be killed." Matt never fooled around with anything less than heavy tanks.
Matt lined up his tanks in a perimeter around the base.
Adam was excited.
<>GOD IS DEAD: round 1
The jeep came within half a screen of the base before it was destroyed by a massive barrage of tank and infantry fire.
"He�s gone." Matt�s attention was already elsewhere. He ordered the production of more heavy tanks, and started to build another war factory.
"Six-to-one odds," Carl shook his head. "That�s just harsh. Like Mohammed and the mountain. Here, let me." He took the keyboard.
<>GOD IS DEAD: having fun yet
The response was immediate.
<>Whitey: yup
"Leave him alone," Adam said plaintively. Something about Carl scared him.
Carl looked straight up, his eyes empty. "But I have so much left to say."
Matt built another construction truck, and started to build a radar dome. He kept on making heavy tanks.
"What�s the construction truck for?" Adam asked.
Matt explained. "Well, I know his base is opposite mine, in the upper left corner," he said, pointing. "That means I can build bases in the other two corners, and mine more ore. With more money I can build more tanks. With more tanks I can kill him."
Matt placed the completed radar dome, and more of the tactical map brightened into life. Matt sent his construction truck trundling across the screen, with an escort of five heavy tanks.
Adam took the keyboard again, trying to think of something to say.
<>GOD IS DEAD: god is dead
The second construction truck was completed, and Matt sent it to the third corner, with another convoy of tanks.
The screen blinked.
<>Whitey: r u religious?
"Well, look at that!" Carl sneered. "Are you religious. You tell him, Adam."
Adam was religious, actually, but he didn�t want to admit it before his friends. He stalled, not knowing what to say.
Disgusted, Carl took the keyboard away.
<>GOD IS DEAD: GOD IS DEAD why do you ask
Matt began building a tech center. The two construction trucks had reached their places by now, and he deployed them, ordering them to produce more ore refineries.
<>Whitey: i dont think god is dead
Adam typed back.
<>GOD IS DEAD: are you religious?
Matt placed the tech center. "Going to have me a satellite soon," he grunted. All three bases were operational now. He kept on building heavy tanks.
<>Whitey: no i never been in a church
Never been in a church, Adam thought. How sad.
Carl took the keyboard.
<>GOD IS DEAD: good 4 you
"Don�t say that," Adam said, shocked. He reached out to type, but Carl pushed him away.
<>GOD IS DEAD: u ever read nietzsche?
Adam wrestled Carl away, and tried to repair the damage.
<>GOD IS DEAD: never been in a church? how you going to get married then?
Carl turned away in disgust. How could Adam care about things that were so stupid?
Matt had about thirty tanks by now. He sent ten more to reinforce his new bases. "We�re cooking, guys," he announced. "We got three bases and the enemy only has one. We have enough money to build anything we want. All we need are tanks."
<>Whitey: im only 15 not going to get married yet
Adam felt sorry for him. "He�s just a little kid."
<>GOD IS DEAD: ok
Carl prowled around the room, looking for something to take his mind off God, but failed.
Suddenly the entire tactical map lit up, buzzing into life. "Satellite�s up," Matt grunted. "The bad thing�s that he can see everything too. Good news is, it frees up the tech center. Now we can start building an atom bomb." Matt gave the order.
A new message flickered on the screen.
<>Whitey: 3 bases! im impressed!
"Hey, look at that!" Carl pointed to a stream of white dots moving on the satellite map. "He�s attacking our base!"
"He�s no idiot," Matt conceded. "He knows if he doesn�t break us now, he doesn�t stand a chance against three bases. It�s just a matter of time." Matt leaned forward, his face intent, tracing out the path the enemy�s tanks were taking. "They should probably strike here."
"Well, what you going to do?" Carl asked. "Our forces are spread out on three bases. He�s going to waste us! What are we going to do?"
"Pray?" Adam said feebly.
Everybody ignored him.
Matt snarled. "I�m going to build a ring of turrets around where he�s going to hit our base, and build more tanks."
Adam typed.
<>GOD IS DEAD: round 2
<>Whitey: yup
Matt built four rocket turrets and lined up his tanks around the base. Matt ordered the production of more tanks, and a war factory. "It�s just a matter of time now."
Nervous, Carl paced the room, and picked up Matt�s plastic cross. He tossed it in the air absentmindedly, not because he was really interested in it, but because it was there.
<>Whitey: you better pray, boy
"We don�t need to pray!" Carl sneered, tossing the plastic cross into the trash.
"Hey," Matt protested. "Take it out." Carl ignored him, and hunched forward to type.
<>GOD IS DEAD: we dont need to pray
Matt placed the war factory, and started building a missile silo for the atom bomb. He started moving tanks into position.
The first few white enemy units stumbled into the ring of rocket turrets, and came under heavy fire. Confused, Whitey paused to regroup, still under attack from the turrets. By the time all his forces were in place he had already lost a third of his units. Exploiting his advantage, Matt sent all his tanks against the invader. The sounds of explosions and gunfire rattled from the computer speakers.
"You�re eating it," said Carl. "Send in the forces from your other two bases too. We got a satellite. He�s throwing everything he has into this attack."
Matt started moving his tanks from the other two bases into place.
Excited, Adam typed.
<>GOD IS DEAD: god is dead
<>GOD IS DEAD: you die now
Whitey had only a dozen tanks left now, but he had destroyed all four of Matt�s rocket turrets and almost all of Matt�s forces. Whitey�s units started attacking the outskirts of Matt�s main base. Although Matt�s reinforcements were trundling into place to engage him, it looked like it was going to be close.
Feverishly, Matt ordered his war factories to build more tanks, and started to erect more turrets. Carl got into it. "Turrets! Tanks! Turrets! Tanks!" he shouted at the computer. "Dee-fense! Dee-fense!" he hollered, as if he was at a basketball game.
Whitey had started attacking the buildings on the perimeter of the base when Matt�s two tank columns engaged him. Matt�s forces outnumbered the enemy two to one, and in half a minute Whitey�s forces were forced to withdraw. Matt relaxed. "It�s all over," he said. "This is the last attack this punk is going to make."
"What should I say?" asked Adam.
"Here," said Carl, brushing Adam aside. "Let me."
<>GOD IS DEAD: don�t appeal to god
<>GOD IS DEAD: god is dead
<>GOD IS DEAD: theres no hope
<>GOD IS DEAD: you die now
Matt ordered his tanks back around his base. Matt ordered his war factories to build more tanks.
<>Whitey: havent died yet
<>Whitey: why is god dead
Matt smiled. "Well lookit that," he said, pointing to the tech center, which was blinking. "The atom bomb is ready to go," he announced. "God is dead. Let�s end this farce. Tell Whitey he will soon be obsolete."
"Yeah," Carl gloated, ecstatic that GOD IS DEAD was about to win the day. "Tell him I hate him. Tell him I�m going to fuck him in the ass."
Adam decided he had had enough, and stood up. "You type," he said reproachfully. "I wouldn�t know where to begin."
Matt seized the keyboard.
<>GOD IS DEAD: round 3
<>GOD IS DEAD: u r my punk bitch
Carl went to the satellite map. "The idiot built all his buildings close together," he said. "We can take out half his base with one shot."
Matt mapped out his trajectory, and launched the missile. Grinning, Carl turned up the speakers.
The three watched the missile erupt from its silo and streak toward Whitey�s base. The apocalypse came, and in a massive detonation most of Whitey�s base erupted into a gigantic streak of flame. After the mushroom cloud cleared, Matt leaned forward and scanned the rubble. "Construction yard. Both his war factories. Power plant. Tech center," he said. "This punk can�t build any units or buildings anymore. He can�t build any bombs either. He�s done for."
"He�s fucked," Carl agreed, jerking his shoulders. He saw the game was like his essay. There was nothing to believe.
<>Whitey: that hurt
<>GOD IS DEAD: god is dead
<>Whitey: i surrender
The three looked at each other. "It�s just mopping up from here," said Matt. "Put him out of his misery," agreed Adam. But it was Carl who typed.
<>GOD IS DEAD: DENIED
<>GOD IS DEAD: the theory must be proved
<>GOD IS DEAD: no hope, no salvation
"That was harsh, Carl," Adam protested. "Why are you such a hardass? It�s just a game."
Carl looked around, his eyes glaring, wide. He was tired of not being taken seriously, of all the time he had spent searching for something that wasn�t there. Something snapped. "It�s not a game!" he yelped. "It�s real! The theory�s real! God is dead!"
Matt and Adam looked at him. They knew Carl, and they didn�t want to set him off. "Show some mercy, man," Matt said carefully. "We already won the game. The dude is fucked."
"We need to kill him," Carl raved. "God is dead. Finish the game. That�s what Nietzsche said. We need to kill him. Don�t believe. Be free. Be free."
"You are messed up, man," Adam said, and turned away. Even Matt looked at Carl askance before he typed back to Whitey.
<>GOD IS DEAD: surrender accepted
Holding his head, Carl staggered across the room and fished Matt�s plastic cross out of the trash.
<>Whitey: good game
"Do you like Nietzsche?" Adam asked Carl diffidently.
Carl spasmed. "Like is a harsh word, man," he said in a loud voice. "You don�t like Nietzsche. But there was a lot of truth in him." Carl tried to break Matt�s plastic cross in his hands.
"Hey! Stop that!" Matt ordered Carl.
Adam felt suddenly powerful. "Does the truth make you happy?"
<>Whitey: i have never been beaten before
"Happy?" Carl said, almost in disbelief. "Happy? God is dead and dead is god. It�s philosophy. Happy is happy and philosophy is philosophy. You can�t prove one without the other."
<>Whitey: u r a good player
Carl knew he wasn�t making sense. He spread his arms together, then apart, unable to decide which was better. "Happy is truth and truth is happy."
<>Whitey: thanks
"Ah," Adam said, satisfied, while Matt typed his reply.
<>GOD IS DEAD: u r a good kid
<>GOD IS DEAD: think more next time
"Happy is truth and truth is happy," Carl repeated, picking up the cross again.
<>GOD IS DEAD: lets make an end
Carl dropped the cross and sat on the floor, alone.
<>Whitey: ok
***Whitey disconnected*** flashed the screen, which abruptly went black.
Five minutes later, the three were outside the dorm, smoking. It was late at night and no one else was around. The dorm itself, four stories of crumbling brick, cast a shadow over the concrete walkway leading to the street. Little orange lights lined the walkway and there was a little lawn separating the dorm and the next few buildings down the street. Most of the grass on the lawn was dead.
"My ass is freezing," Matt said, conversationally. "God damn that smoke alarm. I wish I could smoke inside. I hate coming out here in the winter. It�s fucking ice, man."
Adam nodded. "Yeah," he said. He didn�t smoke. He was just along for the company.
Carl took a drag, then another, taking his aggression out on the cigarette.
Adam looked at Carl, concerned. "You okay, man?" he asked. "You didn�t look too good up there." He paused, groping for something to say. "You okay?"
Carl clenched the cigarette a little tighter. "I meant what I said up there," he said quietly.
Uh-oh, Adam thought. "What?"
"God is dead, man." Carl took another drag. "I believe."
"I believe, I believe," Matt joked, trying to defuse the situation.
"I believe." Adam said firmly.
Carl jerked back, as if slapped. He hated when Adam was so goddam prissy. He hated when Adam was so happy. He hated a lot of things about Adam. Maybe Adam was right. He still had that essay to write. He hated that too.
"Fuck you," Carl said, throwing his cigarette butt at Adam�s feet.
Adam stamped his feet on the butt, trying to get warm as a gust of freezing wind clawed his face. "Brrr. That�s cold, man."
Carl looked around, blind. "Gimme another cigarette," he demanded Matt.
"Don�t got a light," Matt said peaceably. "Left it inside. No light, no smoke. Sorry."
"Light!" Carl screamed. "Light! Who�s got the fucking light?!?"
"Quiet!" Matt said, raising his voice. "We�re outside. Chill, for Christ�s sake."
"For Christ�s sake," Carl mimicked, turning it into a parody.
Adam had taken enough. "Fuck you, man," he said. He didn�t like profanity but he needed to say what he needed to say. "God ain�t dead, man. That was just a game."
Carl stared at Adam, and Matt, feeling betrayed. It was just an essay. It was just a game. It was just life, you know? He tried to picture himself coming up with both hands, shrugging it off. He couldn�t picture it. He couldn�t shrug it off. He couldn�t let go. Could he?
"Yeah," Matt said, worried by the look on Carl�s face. "Just a game. Use your head, man."
Carl stiffened, and turned away, and then turned back. I am goddam using my head, he wanted to yell. Then he wondered, am I? If he didn�t stand for logic, what did he stand for? He felt shaken. "I don�t care anymore." The words came out strangely broken. He really didn�t know what to think.
Adam and Matt looked at each other. They had never seen Carl like this before.
It�s okay, man, it�s okay, Carl told himself. Use your head, man. Don�t get excited. Then he heard Adam�s voice again: "Do you like Nietzsche?" Then his own: "Light! Light! Who�s got the fucking light?!?"
"Chill, man," Matt said, finishing his cigarette. "It doesn�t matter. No one can prove anything anyway. That�s why I keep the cross around, just in case."
"It�s all right," Adam said to Carl. It was pretty close to an apology.
The three fell into silence, hunching their backs against the wind. It was colder now, and a cloud passed over the moon. A car went by.
Matt�s cigarette flared then went out.
Carl flinched, and shivered. Maybe Nietzsche was wrong. You can�t deny things you haven�t seen, he told himself. You can�t believe things you haven�t seen, either, he added hastily. Maybe Matt was right. Maybe he could keep something around, just in case. It was just a stupid essay.
"I�m all right," Carl said, exhaling. He did look a little better, now.
Adam walked around a little, wondering if he should feel guilty for setting Carl off. "Well, I�m cold," he said, truthfully. "It�s late. I think I�ll head in."
"O.K." Matt said, still peering at Carl, trying to see if he was for real.
Adam looked around, almost glad to leave. "O.K. Bye. I had fun tonight. I�ll catch you later, Matt. See you upstairs, Carl." Adam told himself he had a clear conscience. For him, after all, nothing had changed.
"I�ll see you when I�ll see you, Adam," Carl said, looking away.
Adam opened the glass door and vanished back into the dorm.
Matt dropped his burnt-out cigarette and yawned. "How about you, Carl? You heading to bed?"
"No," Carl said. "I got a lot to think about."
"Suit yourself," Matt shrugged, trying to pass it off. "You did take the cross out of the trash, right?"
"Yeah," Carl said tonelessly.
"Okay." Matt walked towards the door of the building, then paused. He didn�t understand why people like Carl got so worked up about these things. It was just school. School was school and life was life. Most people had the sense to keep them apart. But Carl was his friend, so he turned around again. "Carl?"
"Yeah?" Carl said. He was walking in a little circle, grinding some grass into the ground.
"You sure you�re all right?" Matt couldn�t keep the concern out of his voice.
"Yeah." Carl sounded like he just wanted to be left alone.
Matt tried to look at Carl, but he was just a shadow moving in a greater darkness. Matt decided to give up. He wasn�t his responsibility anyway. Some things people just had to work out for themselves. Matt shrugged and walked back inside, eager for the warmth.
Carl walked around a little, not really thinking anything. His mind was just fragments. He remembered the feel of the plastic cross in his hands, the way he had got excited when he had shouted God was dead. He remembered how frustrated he had gotten when he had tried to figure out what it was all really about, and wondered what he really felt now. He just didn�t understand, he admitted to himself. Some things were just too big to understand. He shivered. It was cold out here, in the dark. Lonely too. Carl looked at the sky, trying to find a star, but it was too cloudy. Maybe that was poetic justice.
Carl finally opened the door and went back inside.