Homer could plainly see that the entire situation with regards to Jerry Shankar, or Gerald Littlefoot, or whatever this person's real name was had been completely trashed. That person's website claimed to be experiencing technical difficulties. Homer suspected that it wouldn't be able to get a hold of this person anytime soon, if ever. There was no telling what Huma or Joel had done in terms of screwing up an effort to isolate Jerry Shankar and determine what that person's plans really were.
Homer was so agitated by the situation so as to almost not want to do the second leg of the trip, which Huma and Joel had presumably not yet had a chance to screw up. Homer could go see Cassidy Jones. Homer refused to refer to Cassidy Jones as the Oracle, even mentally. The person was a dangerous terrorist, no different than Jerry Shankar, having manipulated the whole Free State of Iowa to be used as a human shield.
For this reason, Homer was convinced that Cassidy Jones was still at the Botanical Garden, engaging in the same day-to-day activities as always. Though Homer could have just driven there, working off some angry energy seemed to be the better approach. Homer rented a bike and pedaled furiously all the way into town. The exertion was calming, as well as tiring enough so that Homer didn't feel quite so crazy. But nevertheless, upon arriving at the Botanical Gardens, Homer crashed into the big room and screamed.
"You. Me. Now!"
The few casual onlookers in the Botanical Garden stared at Homer in shock. One big-looking person started cracking knuckles, but Cassidy Jones gave a few swift movements with her wrist, and they all reluctantly filed out. Cassidy resumed watering the plants. Homer came up, ready to speak.
"I know what you are," Homer growled.
"Could you please phrase your query in the form of a question?" asked Cassidy, not looking away from the plants. "I don't usually have much to say to statements of facts."
Cassidy's extremely disarming and calm tone made Homer step back a moment. What was the point of any of this? Homer could hardly take Cassidy prisoner again without a proper mode of transportation, not that there would be any point to that.
"I thought so," said Cassidy, putting down the watering can. "You're not a violent person by nature. Even in your most furious state, you can't bring yourself to hurt another human being, can you? That must make it very difficult for you, what with holding a command position in a paramilitary organization."
"Why do you use a watering can?" asked Homer, struggling to think of something to say. "Don't you have a more advanced tool than that?"
"That depends a lot on what you mean by advanced," said Cassidy, carefully breathing in the flowers one by one. "Many tools are more complicated, but that doesn't make them better. I imagine you saw that for yourself in Chicago, when a band of modern days nimrods wielding ancient traditional firearms easily defeated a police force armed entirely with considerably more expensive electric weaponry."
In spite of the current annoyed state, Homer couldn't help but be entranced by the serene way Cassidy was smelling flowers. This was Cassidy Jones' true natural state. For the first time, Homer took a good look at the Botanical Garden. Homer was surprised to find that this crude facility, running on ancient technology, was utterly beautiful. Everything was so warm, and clearly labeled. And quiet.
"I have to pollinate them myself," said Cassidy, likewise looking around. "The process isn't so laborious as it sounds. Bees are very poor pollinators you know. They just bumble about at random, not really knowing what they're doing. But I know the right way. And I appreciate the tedium. My peaceful time with the flowers."
Homer was struck by a sudden feeling of envy for Cassidy. Homer started to wonder whether life could have taken a different turn. Perhaps Homer could have gone to a happier place, with less stress. Homer could actually think clearly here. Ignoring Cassidy, Homer spent several minutes just eyeing one specific marvelous tree. Homer was forbidden from touching anything, as per the rules. Yet even from a distance Homer could feel the infinitely oscillating grooves of the wood. Homer let go. In a place like this, Homer could better get a grasp of the world at large. Homer could feel the answers.
There was one common point in everything that had happened which Homer had somehow not noticed before. Too many sleights of hand, too many distractions. And yet-
"What is the true form of Joel Rotierre?"
Cassidy, from an upper level of the Botanical Gardens, having long walked away from Homer, blinked in surprise. Cassidy leisurely walked down to get closer to Homer, taking the time to better think.
"I need you to ask a more specific question?" Cassidy said, oddly unnerved.
"Why?" asked Homer. "What's wrong with that one?"
"The idea that Joel Rotierre has a true form implies that he has elsewhere, in some capacity, a false form. In reality there is no such thing as a true form and a false form. Any part of us that interacts with the world at large is our true form. Even if we lie or pretend, the new shape we become is influenced by our original one. That's why every actor has a distinct style."
"But Joel's not an actor," said Homer, decisively. "Joel's always been a spy for you."
"Strictly speaking everyone is a spy for me," said Cassidy. "Even you're a spy for me, as you are here right now, providing information for me, however accidentally. I enjoy my chats with Joel Rotierre, as I enjoy my chats with many other people who you would no doubt consider odious. I give him advice to aid in his goals, but I would do the same for you. The problem here, is not that Joel is a liar, but that his goals are achievable. Yours are not. I can't help you because you ask for the impossible."
"I want peace on Earth," said Homer. "Or at least in the United States."
"Ironically enough Earth at large already has peace," said Cassidy. "Or at least as close to it as they can get. A war, perhaps, here or there. But nothing that can last so long anymore. Not enough raw material is being produced for conflicts to be sustained the same way they were before the Great Blackout. A hated power structure is far more prone to collapse should genuine popular support turn against them. That's the underlying issue."
"I don't know what you mean," said Homer.
Cassidy turned around and walk around in a circle for a bit. Homer immediately intrinsically understood that Cassidy wasn't trying to be rude. Cassidy was just attempting to take in more of the ambience before going on to the next thought. Both of them were being calmed, taken down in intensity, for the sake of the next stage of the conversation. That was why Cassidy kept counsel in the Botanical Garden.
"You know that we have a vested interest in destroying the various fascist governments in this country that have eluded you until now, because you were always too willing to interpret their politeness with you as legitimacy," said Cassidy. "That was the price of peace for you. It meant an absence of conflict. It did not mean an absence of suffering. That's the real reason you're upset, isn't it? You don't want to acknowledge the prospect that you were the true villain in all this, because it conflicts with your internal narrative."
Homer stood there, staring at Cassidy silently and stupidly. Homer wanted to rage at Cassidy, accuse Cassidy of being a terrorist, a murderer, and not someone to stand in judgment on anyone. But that would just be proving Cassidy's point. And besides that, Cassidy was not a terribly judgmental person. Cassidy would always say everything in the same even-handed neutral tone, going out of the way to avoid giving any sort of intonation that could be interpreted as offensive.
"What should I do then?" asked Homer.
"Give up," said Cassidy, filling the water can. "There are many things you could do to delay our plans from coming to fruition. Ethically speaking, it would even be defendable for you to do so. But as of yet there are too many aspects to the situation you know nothing about. Say you killed me, for example. You could conceivably delay Jerry and Joel in this manner. But my death would set off a chain reaction in regard to more forces than you could possibly imagine. As morally repugnant as my vision for the future may seem to be, you don't want to see the other possibilities that are in store for the world should it fail to come to pass."
"What is your vision for the future?" asked Homer.
"Well," said Cassidy, breathing in as she started watering plants again, starting from close to Homer's position. "In my ideal future, all the humans would die, and plants would again come to dominate the Earth. For all of Jerry Shankar's bile you can thank him for convincing me that this goal is impractical. My vision at this point is more his vision."
"And what's that vision?" asked Homer.
"Permanent war with the East Coast," said Cassidy. "The Second Constitutional Convention is doomed to fail. The two sides are satisfied just seething in their own hatred, keeping actual death and destruction to a minimum. We continue to murder those most repugnant of persons on either side, to keep the hate flowing. Such a state of chaos can only persist as long as we are alive, most likely, but once we are dead, what difference does it make?"
Homer carefully thought over the idea for a moment. Homer spent far more time seriously deliberating the notion than felt comfortable.
"I can't allow that," Homer said.
"Why not?" asked Cassidy.
"Humans are destined for better things," Homer said. "I can fix them."
Cassidy abruptly dropped the watering can. Her mouth was wide open. Homer looked around, convinced that someone or something must have entered the room. Cassidy looked terrified and started screaming in a horrifically unearthly fashion. Cassidy was saying something, but too fast for Homer to be able to understand. At a loss of what to do, Homer tried grabbing and shaking Cassidy.
"Come on!" Homer said. "Snap out of it!"
Then, something snapped in Homer's memory. Homer took a step back, breathing slowly. Back in the institution. The drug therapies. They were always trying new cocktails, to try to make it stop. To make Homer shut up. That was Homer as a child. Homer screamed, in the exact same way, any time Homer had a moment of lucidity between the cocktails. But what was Homer saying, in that abscess of memory? It was always too fast...
"What did they do to you?" asked Cassidy, whispering, crumpled to the ground, tears streaming. "It's so obvious now. It explains everything. You were the one factor, always slowing us down, always reining in the Rainbow Shirts whenever they were getting too close...what were you trying to accomplish?"
"There was a better way," said Homer. "I'm a good person. I'm trying to help people."
"Do you really not understand?" said Cassidy, voice weak, plaintive, wailing. "Not only have you been delaying the inevitable, but you've also been making it worse. There was no way to release the pressure. Didn't you ever read them? The stories...of what happened to people like us...we are the enemies of power. I can persist here, in my garden, among those with no ambition, or those who only wish to hasten the future rather than change it. But how are you...? Keeping track of everything out there...how have you not been driven mad?"
"I have augments to help with that," said Homer. "And medication. I can make it work. I will make it work."
"No," Cassidy whispered. "No, you can't, you utter fool. You know it as well as I do. Choosing not to believe the truth won't make it any less real."
"I have to go," said Homer, troubled by the involuntary relapse into painful memories, but ultimately unperturbed. "I know that Joel was on your side all along. That's what I needed to turn all this around."
Homer rushed out of the building before having a chance to hear Cassidy's next reply, or really give much thought to the notion. For all the peace Homer thought was there in the Botanical Gardens, coming back outside, with its relative sensory overload even in the quiet cityscape of Des Moines, was a comfort. Peace was the natural state of the world, Homer thought to himself. Homer would maintain that no matter the cost.