Our Infinite Sadness

Discovery

"You seem to have an encyclopedic knowledge of old music," he observed.

She stopped mid-note and pondered thoughtfully. She said, "If this beast had Spotify, I could sing to the top forty. But you're right. I prefer the old music, which over time and countless remakes becomes merely derivative. Pop music in the seventies had a renaissance, brought on by engineering: synthesis, advanced signal processing, the stadium tour movement. The eighties were merely bearable. In the nineties popular music died. Video killed the radio star, but the Internet killed music for good. Killed music and books together, in point of fact." She said this assertively, as though prepared to suffer no argument. She added for emphasis, "Good riddance. They were on their last gasps anyway. Books were dying for ages. I haven't read a novel since Hemingway."

"There is good, original contemporary music," Ben insisted.

"Rare," Edythe allowed, "but yes. The distinctive factor is poesy."

"Becca Stevens," Ben submitted.

"Indeed," Edythe concurred, "a jewel in the mire."

"There have been decent novels since Hemingway," Ben stubbornly insisted. "Besides which, do vampires even write books? Or just read and trash the tripe of inferior humans?"

She winked. "There are not many of us, but we have music, art and literature of our own. Technology, too."

He laughed hard at the last.

"What?" She looked bemused, rather than offended.

He shrugged a shoulder. "You diss my truck easily enough— Spotify, the nerve— but you drive a Volvo. Your kind are these godlike beings that we've mistaken for angels or demons ever since we wrote the Bible, and you claim to have technology of your own... but vampires can't build a decent car?"

Now she laughed, and it was light. "This is what I love about you. I am truly surprised and delighted by the way this was headed. Didn't see it coming."

He trembled at her use of the 'L' word. She hadn't come out and told him that she loved him; it was only used in reference, but he catalogued the occasion for further study.

Edythe gently said, "Sure, we could build a better car. And I'm sure we could even build manufacturing plants that would blend into the scenery and entirely escape your attention. So yes, we have our own science, math and technology. But technology only to a lesser extent. It's just not important. We hardly see the point of technology."

"See, I don't get that."

"Don't you? Dolphins are nearly as smart as you are. They could certainly read and write if it ever occurred to them to bother. But they're content to play and swim and live. This technology of yours, Ben, it's motivated by what need?"

She waited, and he frowned, at a momentary loss. He'd never really thought about it.

"The need to destroy yourselves," she gently finished.

"Ahhh," he said. And he could find no argument. None.

Edythe gently concluded, "Look at it this way. I don't know if I believe there is a Heaven. But if there is, I am absolutely certain that its residents do not drive. Technology, from our perspective, is simply unimportant. Knowledge is eternal, but things are ephemeral. Things fade. Things are hubris."

There was silence for awhile, as he concocted rejoinders and glumly dismissed them. Then he realized that, as always, she had entirely, deviously diverted him.

"Hey. You never did tell me how long you've been sixteen."

He wondered if the remark would deflate her buoyant mood, but she just smiled. "Your Quileute friend told you we don't age... I assure you that the Quileutes know us better than anything you'll find on Google."