The Fountain of Eden: A Myth of Birth, Death, and Beer
Page 46
Chapter 46
Earthmaker, Revisited
Jack sat up and rubbed his eyes. He looked out into an endless expanse of emerald water. His head filled with fond memories of his time out here among the wind and the waves with Turtle, Beaver, Otter, and Bill. But now the two mammals and the bird were absent.
“What are you doing here?” asked Jack.
Turtle craned his head around and grinned at him. “It's relaxing out here, just drifting upon the Ocean, at one with all things in existence. To be a part of the Eternal Moment that seems to be many sequential moments. Always remember, Wesakaychak, the Eternal Moment is right now. And now. Now. Again. Again. Cleave a piece of wood, and there you will find the Eternal Moment. Raise up a stone, and there you shall find Creator gods.”
Jack grew thoughtful. “So which one of you Creator gods actually created the universe and everything therein?”
Turtle peered at Jack with bemusement. “Wesakaychak, do you really think the Creator gods created the universe? All of us—human or mythological or so-called Creator god—create Worlds. We all craft universes. Worlds come, and Worlds go. Universes are created, and universes are destroyed. It is the way things work. Just ask Shiva. And who's to say who the true Creator gods are? Is it you and I, or the human beings who give us life? Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”
Jack remained silent. It was peaceful out here, just drifting, the sun high in the blue sky, the waves lapping gently at Turtle's shell. At the moment, he didn't feel like tackling this koan that had plagued many a mytho across the ages.
“You know, Wesakaychak,” said Turtle, “you can still visit me out here on this old World of Myth. If you ever need my advice. Or just want to shoot the shit. Stop by anytime.”
“Thanks. I'll remember that.” Jack pondered a moment. “So are you gonna tell me how to save the universe? That's why I'm here, isn't it? You always seem to show up when I'm in some kind of jam that I need help getting out of.” He scowled. “I love the Earth, and things were starting off so well with Stephone, and now it's all gonna burn away to ashes thanks to that dope Shiva or Nataraja or whatever the hell his name is! What's it to him, anyway? Why is he doing this?”
Turtle shook his head. “Shiva is simply doing his duty. If humanity oversteps the line, he is bound by great oaths to destroy Creation and begin anew. Of course, we never thought someone might trick humanity into doing just that.” He let out a wry laugh. “You see? Even so-called Creator gods sometimes suffer from lack of foresight.”
“Yeah, that evil Hades. What a bastard, huh?”
Turtle's eyes clouded over. “Perhaps your true enemy is not who you think it is, Wesakaychak.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jack.
But Turtle remained silent no matter how Jack probed him for information.
“But what should I do when I get back?” asked Jack. “How can I stop such a powerful god as Shiva from destroying the universe?”
Turtle smiled, looking off into the endless sea. “What is your name?”
“My name? Jack Whiskey. You knew that already.”
“No. What is your name?”
“Uh . . . Whiskey Jack?”
“No.”
“Wesakaychak? Weesack-kachack? Wisakedjak? Wisagatcak?”
“You're getting closer.”
And then it hit Jack like a slap in the face. He remembered traveling through Hades, becoming a shade, and how things had been . . . weird. The voices. He would never forget the million voices laughing in his head. So he whispered, half-afraid it was the right answer: “I am Trickster, the One Thousand and One Tricksters.”
“So you are. And therein lies the answer to your question.” Turtle grinned. “Now hit the road, Jack, and go save the Worlds.”
“Oh. Right. That. Sure thing. But let me ask you one more thing before I go. If we somehow make it through this in one piece, would it be okay if . . .”
The World of Ocean began to fade away, and Jack's words were muffled. Turtle smiled and laughed and nodded. Everything went black, and Jack Whiskey was transported backwards—or forwards, or sideways, or perhaps nowhere at all—to inside his own head.