Time Odyssey: The Soul's Memory; Part I, Dreamtime

by J. F. Weckesser

  “Until tomorrow afternoon,” he said.

  Falima gave him a half-stern look. “You know, Ketzah, if you got out of bed on time, you might walk with me to the temple, as well as from the temple.” 

  He grinned. “I think I’ll never sleep late again.” He started to leave, then thought of the other students and turned back to her. “Do you think it wise to let others know of our...friendship?”

  “Oh, those teasers would never leave us alone. Dregl would drive you mad with ridicule. We’ll keep this quiet, at least for a while. Farewell for now.” 

  Ketzah smiled. “Then farewell, until tomorrow.”

  Falima nodded and giggled. “I hope tonight you dream of me.” She slipped inside and closed the door.

  * * * *

  Chapter 10

  Ketzah put his brush down, leaned back from the table and stretched. His eyes wandered vacantly around the room, oblivious to the other students bent over their studies. He yawned, stared out the window for a few moments, then returned to the parchment he was working on, mindlessly watching the ink dry. This had been a long morning with difficult equations. It was hard to concentrate with warm air sweetened by citrus blossoms wafting up over the stone wall from somewhere in the area, circulating through the temple courtyard and into the window. He inhaled deeply. 

  It would be easy to forget the classroom this balmy day and just go play ball and have fun. He sighed. Had he missed much by being in temple school? 

  He thought of Medra and Vadi. They had started city school this past year, and always had time to play afterward, as Ketzah had also done at that age. How would it be today, if he had remained in that school? After evening meal he usually liked a little horseplay with his sister and brother, but only for a while. Chasing in the courtyard, or playing hide and seek always gave way to inner games of wonder and logic, and he nearly always ended the evening by telling stories to them. 

  He picked up the brush and fingered it absentmindedly. So, would he really give up this life just to play on a sunny day? How soon before he tired of it? And what would he do then? He watched Master Moradl make his way around the room checking the students’ work—correcting, suggesting, sometimes questioning. Yes, what would Ketzah do if he couldn’t receive the arcane knowledge from the priests? 

  He knew he wouldn’t fit in with the other boys. Sometimes, when he passed them on the streets outside the temple, they made snide remarks, as if he was acting superior to them. 

  Of course, he knew the pupils of the temple were quite elite. Well, yes, maybe they were superior. Still, he had done nothing to earn their ridicule. No, he could never fit in city school.

  ***

  During world studies that day, Master Klodl spoke of famous wars Atlan had fought in, and it disturbed Ketzah that so-called ‘civilized’ countries couldn’t get along. He recalled the evening long-ago when his discouraged father tried to explain the aggressive tactics of Atlan. It didn’t make sense then, and it still didn’t today. He spent the day contemplating war. What is its nature? Its purpose? Why is war often man’s first resort, rather than the last? How might it be ended? Surely he, a student of the Temple of the Old Way, could come up with something better than what was going on now. 

  That night he thought of a solution. How simple it was, yet profound. He lay in bed and thought it over again and again. Such an impression he would make on Atel with this revelation and, certainly, Atel would tell the others. Sooner or later, the outside world would hear of it. It might be brought before the Council of Nations. Ketzah the peacemaker—what a grand reputation he would have! He finally drifted off into a comfortable sleep. 

  At the temple in the morning, he voiced his theory to Atel. “The Council of Nations must work to convince all countries, including ours, to rise up above the animal nature of humans, and rid themselves of their armies. Without soldiers to threaten us, we can strive for peace, regardless of the circumstances. Killing is never justified,” he explained. 

  Atel listened and quietly nodded. “And how do we convince these nations? How do we achieve absolute trust between countries, necessary for your plan?” 

  Ketzah thought for a few seconds, then said, “I think if most countries disband their armies, the others would feel comfortable about retiring their own and will follow. With no threat anywhere, obviously, fists need not be clenched in defense.” 

  “Interesting theory,” said Atel. “Interesting, but there may be flaws in it.” 

  “Flaws? How so?”

  Atel thought silently for a few moments, then brightened. “We’ll take this up another day. I have a task to ask of you, Little Brother. Help is needed in the city school with the intermediate class of children. The teacher has meetings to attend and someone needs to supervise the youngsters, which will allow them a day of recreation. I told them I would send a capable student. Would you be willing to be that person tomorrow?” 

  How strange that Atel changed the subject so quickly…but he is, after all, getting old. Supervising children? That won’t be difficult. I get along with little ones. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll be happy to help.”

  What a coincidence. Only yesterday he fantasized about playing in the balmy weather and attending city school. Now, tomorrow he would be doing both. Truly, the Divinities had smiled upon him! 

  * *

  The next morning was beautiful. Birds sang and warm breezes were blowing. A perfect day to be away from his studies. They could play games outdoors. Ketzah remembered some from when he had attended city school. He walked down to the large building, where everything seemed the same, yet somewhat smaller than he had remembered. 

  Reaching the white colonnade near the entrance, he saw his young charges sitting on the terra-cotta tiled steps in front of the entrance. He smiled, remembering his own innocence at that age.  

  There were twelve boys and girls in all, nine to twelve years old. Some were neat and tidy, others had dirty faces and mussed hair. A few peered shyly at him, others stared boldly, some giggled and shoved each other, bored with their task of sitting and waiting.

  “Good morning, children. I am Ketzah Kowato. I will be supervising you today.” 

  Some children smiled, some looked disinterested, and a few sneered. “As I’m not a teacher, there will be no studies today—just games.” He laughed amid the cheers. “Let’s start off by telling me your names. Let me see if I can remember all of you.” 

  They became acquainted and found a grassy field behind the school where they could play. Two of the older boys, Metlar and Haldof, brought out a ball from the building. Ketzah started them in a circle game, then sat under a tree to watch. This would be a relaxing day. 

  A tiny girl named Duna chased a boy with the ball, weaving in and out of the children, until he threw the ball to another. They laughed and shouted and chased eagerly.

  After the third boy caught the ball and started running, Duna caught up to him. As she reached out to tap his shoulder and declare herself the winner, she tripped over Haldof’s extended foot and fell, landing on her elbow in the dirt. 

  Ketzah jumped to his feet and ran to the circle. He helped Duna up and inspected her bleeding wound. “Haldof tripped me,” she wailed. “He’s so mean!”

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” soothed Ketzah. He eyed Haldof warily. 

  “He meant it! He always means it!”

  Ketzah stared sternly at the culprit. “Haldof will behave today, I’m sure. Nothing like this will happen again.”

  Haldof suppressed a grin. “No, sir. I’m sorry.” 

  Ketzah sent the still-crying Duna into the building with an older girl to dress her scraped elbow. Then he organized another game, of tossing the ball back and forth between parallel rows of children. This went well and soon Duna returned to join in. 

  For the next activity the children divided into two teams. Ketzah made the mistake of putting Metlar and Haldof on the same team, as they gave each other confidence for misch
ief. Also, they were the largest boys there and the others were afraid of them. 

  The game was to kick the ball to the end of the field. The last person to kick the ball over the line would win the game for the team. However, Metlar and Haldof pushed children out of the way and once even kicked someone when Ketzah turned his head. When the victims cried, the two bullies smirked and jeered. 

  Ketzah grabbed the two and marched them from the circle. “Listen, boys. I will not tolerate this. The other children are afraid of you. How would you feel if some adolescents hurt you. Wouldn’t that frighten you?” 

  The boys nodded and frowned. “Yes, sir,” said Metlar.

  “Then let’s treat others kindly, the way you wish to be treated.” 

  “Yes, sir,” said Haldof. “We’re sorry.” 

  Ketzah softened. “Very well then. Let’s go back to the games.” 

  The class played happily for a short while; then someone cried out in pain. Haldof had yanked off a boy’s headband, taking a tuft of hair with it. Metlar guffawed. 

  “Enough!” Ketzah stomped over and snatched Haldof around the waist, swinging him away from the smaller boy. He grabbed Metlar roughly by the arm. “That’s all the fun you’re going to have!” He called to the others, “Children, it’s time to come indoors. Please follow me!” 

  With a hand firmly on the nape of each culprit’s neck, he led them into the school. “You’ll go without your midday meal and your parents will be told of your misbehavior. You’ll stay seated where I put you, where I can see you for the rest of the day.” In the classroom, he put each boy on a stool in opposite corners. 

  The others drew and sculpted and later sang, and the day passed smoothly, but inwardly Ketzah was miserable. 

  * *

  The next morning when Ketzah entered the temple, he was greeted by Atel sitting on a bench in the outer vestibule. “Ah, Little Brother,” he said cheerfully as he stood up. “How did the day go yesterday?”

  “Very well, Master,” said Ketzah, walking with Atel toward their study room. “Most of the children were delightful.”

  “The day went smoothly then, without mishap? How nice.” He rubbed his chin. “You state ‘most’ of the children were delightful?” 

  “There were two older boys who bullied the others. They would not be reasoned with. I finally bodily removed them to protect the others. I spent the rest of the day watching them so they couldn’t sneak back to hurt anyone.” 

  A trace of a smile crossed Atel’s face. “Yes, children do act up sometimes, do they not?” He pulled out his chair at the table and sat. “Ah, well, those are children for you.” 

  He clasped his hands. “And now, let us continue our discussion from before, regarding achievement of world peace.” 

  Like yesterday, he jumps from subject to subject. He truly is getting old! “Yes, Master, I was saying that if the armies were to be abolished, world peace could be achieved. I think this idea is sound.” 

  “Yes, it is obvious you do.” He pondered few moments, then said, “When you go to the marketplace, you may notice that men behave on different levels of development. Am I correct?” 

  Ketzah scowled. “Yes, that’s true. They fight and bicker among themselves and cheat anyone gullible. What fools!” 

  Atel winced, then softened. “Would you say that some men are like children? Unruly children, at that?”

  Ketzah sensed where Atel was headed, and he squirmed slightly. “Yes, Master,” he muttered.

  “Tell me, Little Brother, what would have happened to the children if you had allowed the bullies to run unchecked?” 

  “Well, they would’ve hurt the little ones.”

  “And then what? Would that have ended it? Would peace have been achieved?” 

  Ketzah contemplated yesterday’s experience. “Peace maybe, but not a happy one, I suppose. The little ones would have been at the mercy of the big boys and would’ve been miserable. Of course, there is the possibility that they might all have ganged up on the two, but...” He looked solemnly at Atel. “I think I know what you’re telling me.” 

  The priest smiled gently. “And what is that, Little Brother?” 

  “I was the peace enforcer yesterday. I was the army for that small nation. I kept harm from overcoming the peaceful state. And I had to remain there as a constant threat to those who would overthrow that peace. Is that correct?” 

  Atel nodded. “That is correct. Until humankind perfects itself to the point where there are no bullies, armies assure the others that their innocent ones will be safe. The key is in self-control, always. One’s sword must only be drawn in defense, never in aggression. Defense only. After all, refusal to defend oneself is a form of suicide, is it not?” 

  He didn’t wait for a response, but raised a finger to stress his point. “Nations which have lived without strong armies for protection are no more, like a lamb left unprotected in the wilderness, surrounded by wolves.

  “Yet certainly,” he continued, “we here in the temple understand that life is eternal—with or without our bodies; but if we wish to remain a species on this Earth, and learn the lessons we can only learn in material bodies, we must protect ourselves from time to time.”

  He stood and walked to a nearby pair of marble pillars—one black, one white—and stood between the two. “Observe, Ketzah, these columns of polarity. Let this white pillar be total refusal to protect oneself, and this black one be ultimate aggression and force. Would not either eventually lead to complete annihilation from this planet? 

  “Strive always to walk the middle path between the two extremities. This must be true with all endeavors as well as warfare. The middle ground between absolute war and absolute peace is not easy to discern. It takes inner development to know the path. It is a worthy goal for all humankind. But alas,” he said, “the goal lies countless ages hence.”

  “I should have known, Master Atel. Forgive my stupidity.” 

  “Merely imperfect reasoning, Little Brother, not stupidity. Now, let us get on with our lessons.”

  * *

  The lesson of the middle way, as Ketzah called the experience, taught him much about the intricacies of human nature. But still—like many teetering between childhood and adulthood—he was sometimes complacent about his reasoning abilities and wisdom.

  One morning in class, Atel poured the last of the oil into a lamp near Ketzah’s table. “When you are finished with your lesson,” he said, writing out a list on a torn piece of parchment, “I will need you to get some supplies for the temple.”

  Ketzah sneered. “Must I go, Master Atel? I don’t like the marketplace. The people are ignorant, loud and coarse. Here in the temple is where I’m happy.”

  Atel frowned slightly. “There are lessons in the marketplace as well as here.”

  Ketzah put down his brush and sullenly opened his hand for Atel to place the list and some coins in. “I’ll go,” he grumbled, “but next time I hope you’ll pick someone else for this.”

  He hurriedly scribbled through the rest of his lesson, shoved it over to Atel, then huffed through the temple halls, slapping his sandals on the floor with each step. He shouldered through the doorway and stomped toward the agora until he knew he was out of sight of the priests. With no one to appreciate his suffering, he quieted down to a silent sulk. He glared at the road before him and kicked tiny pebbles as he walked.

  Now and then he glanced up to watch an airship humming overhead. How wonderful it must be to ride up there, away from the noise and stench of the masses.

  Ahead in the heart of the marketplace, lay the modern Temple of Bakos. He glared at it, this fleshpot for the masses—only one of many. It was here that the so-called high priests indulged in every perverse pleasure, and encouraged their willing followers to do likewise.

  He remembered an older student, Mot, once debating in the forum with a devout follower of Bakos. “It is the nature of man to have these urges and desires,” the man had said. �
��We acknowledge their existence and indulge in them. When such desires are satisfied, we can get on to other things.”

  “Ah, yes,” Mot had countered, “but are such desires ever truly satisfied? Are they not merely comforted until another time—like an itch? As you surely have noticed in your observations, one may become addicted to satisfaction of the body’s desires, and forgo the higher goals.”

  The man wasn’t convinced, so Mot added, “I, too, recognize the dangers of suppressing carnal desires, but only when we rechannel our urges to a higher level are we then separate from the other animals.”

  Ketzah remembered the laughter, the ridicule that rose up from the small crowd that had gathered.

  He spat onto the dusty lane. Yet as they lie dying, they frantically send for the priests of the Old Temple to help them meet the Divine. Stupid dogs! They can rot in their own feces, for all I care. 

  The streets became more crowded with people until he had reached the marketplace. “Alms, master,” called an old, crippled man in rags. “That I may eat tonight.” Ketzah sniffed the refined air that surrounded only himself and dropped a small coin into the beggar’s basket.

  Nearby was the stall of incense and lamp oil. He stopped there for his first purchases. The plump balding merchant talked on and on, rarely stopping to take a breath. As he gathered the incense, he asked, “What do you use this stuff for? I usually sell this kind to the Priests of the Old Way. Are you shopping for them?”

  “Yes. I study there.”

  The shopkeeper looked surprised. “You? A young man such as you should be out living your life.”

  Ketzah picked up a small lamp and pretended to inspect it. “I prefer my life at the temple,” he said coolly. 

  “Prefer it, hah! I bet you were abandoned there. A life without wine? Women? You’re old enough to know such things. Reading and praying all day is no life for a lad your age.” 

  He smiled mischievously and bent close to Ketzah, reeking garlic into his face. “Escape your captors tonight and come with me. I’ll show you life! Come to my temple.”