“But what—“
“Oh, earthling, earthling, why do you think Blajeny called for you? There is war in heaven, and we need all the help we can get. The Echthroi are spreading through the universe. Every time a star goes out another Echthros has won a battle. A star or a child or a farandola—size doesn’t matter, Meg. The Echthroi are after Charles Wallace and the balance of the entire universe can be altered by the outcome.”
“But Progo, what does this have to do with our test— and with three Mr. Jenkinses—it’s insane.”
Proginoskes responded coldly and quietly. “Precisely.”
Into the cold and quiet came the sound of the school buses arriving, doors opening, children rushing out and into the school building.
Charles Wallace was one of those children.
Proginoskes moved quietly in her mind through the roar. “Don’t misunderstand me, Meg. It is the ways of the Echthroi which are insane. The ways of the Teachers are often strange, but they are never haphazard. I know that Mr. Jenkins has to have something to do with it, something important, or we wouldn’t be here.”
Meg said, unhappily, “If I hate Mr. Jenkins whenever I think of him, am I Naming him?”
Proginoskes shifted his wings. “You’re Xing him, just like the Echthroi.”
“Progo!”
“Meg, when people don’t know who they are, they are open either to being Xed, or Named.”
“And you think I’m supposed to Name Mr. Jenkins?” It was a ridiculous idea; no matter how many Mr. Jenkinses there were, he was Mr. Jenkins. That’s all.
But Proginoskes was most definite. “Yes.”
Meg cried rebelliously, “Well, I think it’s a silly kind of test.”
“What you think is not the point. What you do is what’s going to count.”
“How can it possibly help Charles?”
“I don’t know. We don’t have to know everything at once. We just do one thing at a time, as it is given us to do.”
“But how do I do it? How do I Name Mr. Jenkins when all I think of when I see him is how awful he is?”
Proginoskes sighed and flung several wings heavenwards so violently that he lifted several feet, materialized, and came down with a thud. “There’s a word—but if I say it you’ll just misunderstand.”
“You have to say it.”
“It’s a four-letter word. Aren’t four-letter words considered the bad ones on your planet?”
“Come on. I’ve seen all the four-letter words on the walls of the washroom at school.”
Proginoskes let out a small puff. “Luff.”
“What?”
“Love. That’s what makes persons know who they are. You’re full of love, Meg, but you don’t know how to stay within it when it’s not easy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh—you love your family. That’s easy. Sometimes when you feel awful about somebody, you get back into tightness by thinking about—well, you seem to be telling me that you got back into love once by thinking about Charles Wallace.”
“Yes—“
“But this time it can’t be easy. You have to go on to the next step.”
“If you mean you think I have to love Mr. Jenkins, you’ve got another think coming,” Meg snapped.
Proginoskes gave a mighty sigh. “If we pass the test, you’ll go on and be taught—oh, some of the things I was taught my first billennium with the Teachers. I had to pass a galaxy of tests before I could qualify as a Star’Namer. But you’re a human being, and it’s all quite different with you. I keep forgetting that. Am I lovable? To you?”
All about Meg, eyes opened and shut; wings shifted; a small flame burned her hand and was rapidly withdrawn. She coughed and then sucked the burned place on her hand. But all she wanted was to put her arms around Proginoskes as she would around Charles Wallace. “Very lovable,” she said.
“But you don’t love me the way you love that skinny Calvin?”
“That’s different.”
“I thought so; That’s the confusing kind. Not the kind you have to have in order to Name Mr. Jenkins.”
“I hate Mr. Jenkins.”
“Meg, it’s the test. You have to Name the real Mr. Jenkins, and I have to help you. If you fail, I fail too.”
“Then what would happen?”
“It’s your first time with a Teacher. And it would be your last.”
“And you?”
“When one has been with the Teachers as often as I have, one is given a choice. I could throw in my lot with the Echthroi—“
“What!”
“Quite a few of those who fail do.”
“But the Echthroi are—“
“You know what they are. Sky tearers. Light snuffers. Planet darkeners. The dragons. The worms. Those who hate.”
“Progo, you couldn’t.”
“I hope I couldn’t. But others have. It’s not an easy choice.”
“If you don’t go to the Echthroi—“
All Proginoskes’s eyes were shielded by his wings. “I am a Namer, The Echthroi would un-Name. If I do not go with them, then I must X myself.”
“What!?”
“I’ll ask you a riddle. What do you have the more of, the more of it you give away?”
“Oh, love, I suppose.”
“So, if I care more about Naming than anything else, then maybe I have to give myself away, if it’s the only way to show my love. All the way away. To X myself.”
“If you do it—X yourself—does it last forever?” Meg asked apprehensively.
“Nobody knows. Nobody will know till the end of time.”
“Do I have that choice, too, if—if we fail?” She turned away from the school building, towards the early-morning shouts and whistles, and pressed her face against the soft feathers of one great pinion.
“It is not an option given to mortals, earthling.”
“All that happens to me is that I go home?”
“If you can call it all. There would be rejoicing in hell. But perhaps you don’t believe in hell?”
Meg pushed this aside. “But if we fail, then you—”
“I must choose. It’s better to X myself than to be Xed by the Echthroi.”
“What you took me to see—it was what Mother talked about at the dinner table, what Father’s gone to Brook-haven about—it doesn’t seem to have much to do with Mr. Jenkins. It’s all so cosmic, so big—“
“It isn’t size that matters, Meg. Right now it’s Charles Wallace. The Echthroi would annihilate Charles Wallace.”
“A little boy!”
“You’ve said yourself that he’s a special little boy.”
“He is, oh, he is.” She gave a startled jump as the first bell went off inside the school building, strident, demanding. “Progo, I don’t understand any of it, but if you think Naming Mr. Jenkins is going to help Charles Wallace, I’ll do my best. You will help me?”
“I’ll try.” But Proginoskes did not sound confident. From all around them came the usual schoolday din.
Then the door to the cafeteria/gym opened, and a Mr. Jenkins came out. Which Mr. Jenkins? There was no telling them apart. Meg looked to the cherubim, but he had de-materialized again, leaving only a shimmer to show where he was.
Mr. Jenkins came to her. She checked his shoulders. There was the dandruff. She went closer: smelled: yes, he had the Mr. Jenkins smell of old hair cream and what she always thought of as rancid deodorant. But all three of the Mr. Jenkinses could manage that much, she was sure. It was not going to be that easy.
He looked at her coldly in the usual way, down one side of his slightly crooked nose. “I assume that you are as confused by all this as I am, Margaret. Why two strange men should wish to impersonate me I have no idea. It is most inconvenient, just at the beginning of school, when I am already overworked. I am told that it has something to do with you as well as your unfortunate little brother. I had hoped that this year you, at least, would not be one of my problems. It seems to me I have had to spend more time with you than with any other student in school. It is certainly my misfortune. And now not only do I have to cope with your little brother, who is equally difficult, but here you are again.”
This was Mr. Jenkins. He had played upon the theme of this speech with infinite variations almost every time she was sent to his office.
“For some reason obscure to me, you are supposed to choose between the impostors and me. It is certainly in my interests to have you pass this absurd test. Then perhaps I can keep you out of my school.”
“And then,” said Mr. Jenkins Two, appearing beside Mr. Jenkins One, “I will have time to concentrate on present problems instead of those which ought to be past. Now, Meg, if you will just for once in your life do it my way, not yours … I understand you’re basically quite bright in mathematics. If you would simply stop approaching each problem in your life as though you were Einstein and had to solve the problems of the universe, and would deign to follow one or two basic rules, you—and I—would have a great deal less trouble.”