Fear Nothing

day. Tomorrow night might be radically hairy out there on the point.'
        'So you've got a handle on this?' Bobby said.
        “There isn't a handle on it.'
        'You're not as cheerful as Nancy Drew.'
        I wasn't going to lie to him, not to him any more than to Orson or Sasha. “There's no solution. There's no way to zip it shut or put a button on it. Whatever's going down here - we'll have to live with it the rest of our lives. But maybe we can find a way to ride the wave, even though it's a huge spooky slab.'
        After a silence, Bobby said, 'What's wrong, bro?'
        'Didn't I just say?'
        'Not everything.'
        'I told you, some of it's not for the phone.'
        'I'm not talking about details. I'm talking about you.'
        Orson put his head in my lap, as if he thought I would take some consolation from petting him and scratching behind his ears. In fact, I did. It always works. A good dog is a medicine for melancholy and a better stress reliever than Valium.
        'You're doing cool,' Bobby said, 'but you're not being cool.'
        'Bob Freud, bastard grandson of Sigmund.'
        'Lie down on my couch.'
        Smoothing Orson's coat in an attempt to smooth my nerves, I sighed and said, 'Well, what it boils down to is, I think maybe my mom destroyed the world.'
        'Solemn.'
        'It is, isn't it?'
        “This science thing of hers?'
        'Genetics.'
        'Remember how I warned you against trying to leave your mark.'
        'I think it's worse than that. I think maybe, at the start, she was trying to find a way to help me/
        'End of the world, huh?'
        'End of the world as we know it,' I said, remembering Roosevelt Frost's qualification.
        'Beaver Cleaver's Mom never did much more than bake a cake.'
        I laughed. 'How would I make it without you, bro?'
        “There's only one important thing I ever did for you.'
        'What's that?'
        Taught you perspective.'
        I nodded. 'What's important and what isn't.'
        'Most isn't' he reminded me.
        'Even this?'
        'Make love to Sasha. Get some solid sleep. We'll have a bitchin' dinner tomorrow night. We'll kick some monkey ass. Ride some epic waves. A week from now, in your heart, your mom is just your mom again - if you want to let it be that way.'
        'Maybe,' I said doubtfully.
        Attitude, bro. It's everything.'
        'I'll work on it.'
        'One thing surprises me, though.'
        'What?'
        'Your mom must've been really pissed about losing the fight to keep that statue in the park.'
        Bobby broke the connection. I switched off my phone.
        Is this really a wise strategy for living? Insisting that most of life isn't to be taken seriously. Relentlessly viewing it as a cosmic joke. Having only four guiding principles: one, do as little harm to others as possible; two, be there always for your friends; three, be responsible for yourself and ask nothing of others; four, grab all the fun you can. Put no stock in the opinions of anyone but those closest to you. Forget about leaving a mark on the world. Ignore the great issues of your time and thereby improve your digestion. Don't dwell in the past. Don't worry about the future. Live in the moment. Trust in the purpose of your existence and let meaning come to you instead of straining to discover it. When life throws a hard punch, roll with it - but roll with laughter. Catch the wave, dude.
        This is how Bobby lives, and he is the happiest and most wellbalanced person I have ever known.
        I try to live as Bobby Halloway does, but I'm not as successful at it as he is. Sometimes I thrash when I should float. I spend too much time anticipating and too little time letting life surprise me. Maybe I don't try hard enough to live like Bobby. Or maybe I try too hard.
        Orson went to the pool that surrounded the sculpture. He lapped noisily at the clear water, obviously savoring the taste and the coolness of it.
        I remembered that July night in our backyard when he had stared at the stars and fallen into blackest despair. I had no accurate way to determine how much smarter Orson was than an ordinary dog. Because his intelligence had somehow been enhanced by the project at Wyvern, however, he understood vastly more than nature ever intended a dog to understand. That July night, recognizing his revolutionary potential yet -