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My
son
lives
,
she
thought
.
My
son
lives
and
is
.
.
.
human
.
I
knew
he
was
.
.
.
but
.
.
.
he
lives
.
Now
,
I
can
go
on
living
.
The
door
felt
hard
and
real
against
her
back
.
Everything
in
the
room
was
immediate
and
pressing
against
her
senses
.
My
son
lives
.
Paul
looked
at
his
mother
.
She
told
the
truth
.
He
wanted
to
get
away
alone
and
think
this
experience
through
,
but
knew
he
could
not
leave
until
he
was
dismissed
.
The
old
woman
had
gained
a
power
over
him
.
They
spoke
truth
.
His
mother
had
undergone
this
test
.
There
must
be
terrible
purpose
in
it
.
.
.
the
pain
and
fear
had
been
terrible
.
He
understood
terrible
purposes
.
They
drove
against
all
odds
.
They
were
their
own
necessity
.
Paul
felt
that
he
had
been
infected
with
terrible
purpose
.
He
did
not
know
yet
what
the
terrible
purpose
was
.
“
Some
day
,
lad
,
”
the
old
woman
said
,
“
you
,
too
,
may
have
to
stand
outside
a
door
like
that
.
It
takes
a
measure
of
doing
.
”
Paul
looked
down
at
the
hand
that
had
known
pain
,
then
up
to
the
Reverend
Mother
.
The
sound
of
her
voice
had
contained
a
difference
then
from
any
other
voice
in
his
experience
.
The
words
were
outlined
in
brilliance
.
There
was
an
edge
to
them
.
He
felt
that
any
question
he
might
ask
her
would
bring
an
answer
that
could
lift
him
out
of
his
flesh
-
world
into
something
greater
.
“
Why
do
you
test
for
humans
?
”
he
asked
.
“
To
set
you
free
.
”
“
Free
?
”
