Chapter 23: Discontent

if not, winter…

In fact she herself once blamed me
Kyprogeneia
because I prayed this word: I want

~Sappho, from If Not, Winter, trans. Anne Carson

Wong bounced from wall to wall as he made his way to the galley. The waves were the highest they'd been in the six days they'd been at sea. He'd taken Dramamine half an hour ago, and now came looking for ginger ale. Even if it was just a placebo, placebos were better than nothing. Placebos were, if nothing else, hope, and sometimes hope for recovery was enough to get a person through their suffering.

He was surprised to find a light on in the galley. When the light moved, turning toward him, he realized it was the Mind Stone glowing in Vision's forehead.

"Good evening, Wong."

"Hello, Vision. I wasn't expecting to find you here," he said.

"I was reading." He indicated the book in his hand. He was standing in front of the narrow bookshelf, which was bolted to the wall and had metal bars across the front to hold the books on it when the sea got rough. The books were mostly potboiler novels and magazines, with a few classics, history books, and popular science books.

"What were you reading?"

"Moby Dick."

"I saw that book. It seems to me like a strange choice of reading material for people actually out on the ocean."

"Because its ending might make people apprehensive about being on a ship?"

"Mostly because, in my opinion, recreational reading should serve as a complement or balance to life. When you're depressed, you should read comedies, when your life is going well, that's when you should read tragedies. You should read romances when you're single, thrillers when you're bored, and tales of sea voyages when you're landlocked."

"That's an interesting perspective on reading. I'm not sure I agree, but it's something to think about." He looked at the book, then put it back on the shelf. "I like to read anything. It relaxes me. For a little while I don't have to be me. I can fill my head with someone else's thoughts, feel like someone else. Someone innocent."

Wong took a can of ginger ale out of a cupboard and opened it. "Do you eat or drink?"

"No. My body gets all the energy it needs from my power source..." He touched the light on his head. "The Mind Stone. I actually tried eating in the first few months after my creation, out of curiosity. The heat and pressure inside my body converted the water in foods and drinks to hot vapor, which was not pleasant, and when I phased to pass through a wall, the food inside me didn't. Needless to say, it was a mess. I experience tasting as basic chemical analysis, with no pleasure or disgust associated with the flavors. It wasn't worth it."

"That seems sad to me. I find the experience of flavors to be one of life's greatest pleasures."

"It is sad," Vision agreed. "It's a limitation on my experience of life. Just as some humans lack the ability to experience sight or hearing. I can't experience the world as fully as others, like I'm interacting with the world at four-fifths capacity. But four-fifths is better than nothing. I enjoy the use of my other senses. I experience pleasure looking at a well-composed painting, listening to music. From touch..." He opened his hands and stared at them.

A particularly violent toss of the ship splashed Wong's ginger ale in his face.

"Right now, I envy you a little," he said, wiping the soda on his sleeve.

"Seasick?" Vision asked sympathetically.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

He took a careful sip. "Thank you."

Vision looked back at his hands. "Wong, can I talk to you?"

"Of course."

"You characterized my past actions as war, but there is crime in war. War crimes. War criminals. My plan was to subjugate the human race or destroy it. What do you think would be a fitting sentence for that?"

Wong thought about it. "Since you feel you must endure some punishment, in light of your sincere remorse, if I were your judge I would sentence you to community service. Maybe...a hundred years of community service. With time served for your work preserving your world's cultural heritage, that would be—what? Ninety-two years to go? Does that sound fair?"

"I don't know. The things I've done...I don't know if there is any punishment that would be enough."

Wong thought of Strange's insane risky plan. He'd had his doubts at first, but he was increasingly sure this Vision that Wanda had chosen would agree to go through with it, if it would work at all. "Maybe you should focus on living your life well while you can, and not worry about what punishment you deserve."

"You might be right. There's a good chance I won't survive this mission," Vision said. "But if I do..." He sighed, a very human sound.

"If you do, what?"

"I don't want to go back to my world." He spoke it in the tone of a confession, something he was ashamed to admit. "I want to stay here. Wanda has been playing chess with me." He stated that like an explanation, but seemed to realize that was inadequate. "In my world, I'm the bogeyman. I'm what parents tell their children about to scare them into not wandering off. People write horror stories about me. And they probably will for the rest of human history. And here I'm...I'm not. Here, a human plays chess with me. And I know it's only because she was friends with the Vision who died here, but still...it means so much to me, after being as alone as I have been. I don't want to go back to that. I think I will. I think I can, if I survive. But I don't want to."

If the plan worked...

"You won't have to," Wong said.

"But maybe I do. Maybe that's the punishment I deserve: to live in the world my actions created."

"Maybe you shouldn't worry about it until we complete this mission."

"Because I'm not likely to survive?" he asked.

"Because you might change your mind." He drank some more of the ginger ale.

Vision stared at his hands again.

"Life is unpredictable," Wong said. "So many people endure suffering they don't deserve, and many guilty people never face consequences for their actions. Saving the innocent is more important than punishing the guilty. And in your case..."

He lost his train of thought. As he'd been speaking, the boat tilted with another high wave, but this time it kept tilting. There was a sound of boxes and cans sliding and falling over inside the cupboards. A couple of heavy books fell off the bookshelf, somersaulting over the metal bar meant to hold them on. Wong had to grab the table to keep from falling over. And then he felt a burst of magic from above. The tilting stopped. The ship stopped.

"Something's wrong," he said. "Get to the top deck, now!"

Vision instantly obeyed. He shot upward, phasing through the ceiling.

Wong opened a portal to the pilothouse, fearing what he might find.