The service elevator groans slowly down into the depths of the facility and Tucker remembers the book. “What do you think he was looking for?” he asks. It breaks the spell and startles Alice. “The book” he adds.

“I don’t know. Whys that important now?”

“It’s history and instruction. Why would Russell need any of that? He’s been on the job for 50 years.”

She quietly reflects, almost sad. “It’s about more than that. It’s about faith. Believing in good and evil, recognizing the difference, and choosing the better part. We never get beyond a need for that.”

That seems easy for her, he thinks. Not that she isn’t faced with endless challenges, but in the sense that she never has to consider her choice. She’s good. She sees good and she chooses good. For Tucker, his choices often lead him to steeper cliffs and greater falls. His faith has always been in himself, and he suddenly finds the container far too small for his needs. He’s never looked beyond the rush of the moment’s need. Never considered the effect on his life by others, or his on theirs, despite the devastating impact of his mothers’ suicide. He trusts only when it seems unavoidable. It isn’t that he doesn’t believe in good and evil. He’s seen more than enough of one. He’s simply never given much thought to the concept that he can personally choose between the two, or that his choices impact others. He doesn’t exercise faith because he doesn’t understand what it is or how it works. It’s always seemed a static concept, designed as a prop for the weak and hopeless. That it’s an actual force with great power never occurred to him.

The elevator sinks into the depths. Tucker’s ears pop.