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I suppress the pangs of sorrow for the lost. It was a mercy to let them die in the healing of the World. If I had not swallowed the parasites and the nodes of cancer they would have lived and it would have grown back. I nod my head and the air beneath my feat carries me over Little Ulster. It is only the beginning, there is so much cancer and there so many of the parasites to expunge but this first act of healing leaves me pleased and I feel myself smile.

I see people fill the streets below me and watch them stare with wonder at the remade city that surrounds them. It is not perfect and some of the parasites will be among the awestruck, but maybe they will change with the cancer removed. I buried their strongholds and their lairs. People look up to the sky and see me there. I hear cheering and praise for what I have done, expressions of awe, and a few whispered prayers that call me God. But I am not God for there is no God. Is there?

The air beneath me starts to descend and I drift towards the ground, a crimson angel come to answer the prayers of a sick and dying World. Maybe they will listen when I tell them of the cancer and the parasites, the sickness, and the dying World. 

The silver and blue blur streaks through the air and I catch a glimpse of it in the corner of my eye. I feel another moment of hope. Maybe he is also trying to heal the World; maybe he saved a parasite by accident not design. I slow my descent and my mouth opens to call a greeting and invite him to join me. But before I can speak he streaks to the park that I had made.

I see the beauty that I brought forth and smile before he starts to dig. My eyes widen in shock and alarm. He seeks to unearth the cancer and free it again. Suddenly I understand, he kept the space station from crashing to save the cancer and the parasites in the city. He is their servant, a weapon to save them. It is painfully obvious and my heart wilts with the realization that the infection is worse than I ever dreamed in my darkest nightmares. But I feel my resolve stiffen as he digs and I understand.

It is not enough to bury the nodes of cancer, the World is too ill to consume them and heal. Instead they will fester inside until their servants free them. I call to the World and tell it to change, my vision distorting as again I see all the threads and pieces of it. The park shudders and settles a few inches as the cancerous node of the tenement below it is altered to simple soil in an instant. I do not spare the people for if they are freed many parasites will escape and there will be no evidence of them now. 

The earth rises and a solid plug of the world pushes the digging servant of the cancer up from below before I reshape it to be the grass and sod of the park.