The Reincarnationist Papers

by Eric Maikranz

  I wanted to. I knew it would make everything okay if I could. I just couldn't keep my feet planted firmly on both worlds for that long. "I can't Henry. I'm leaving tomorrow for Switzerland and I don't know how long I'll be gone."

  "Switzerland, what the fuck?" I could see the change come over his face. It went from consolation to distrust. "You going with her?" he said thrusting his chin toward the dance floor.

  I knew then it was too late to tell him. If I was ever going to tell him it would have been twenty five drunken nights earlier and even if I could manage the courage to tell him now, it would be completely in vain. I knew, or at least hoped, that I wouldn't come back from Zurich as the same person he'd known, and it felt like I was being forced to reap the harvest of secret seeds sewn long ago. "Yes, I'm going with her."

  "What's going on man? You stay with her for what, three days, and now you're going halfway around the world with her?"

  I grabbed my beer and tilted it back as I thought up a story. "I just hit it off with her. She is going there to see some friends and invited me along on her nickel." Each word felt like a ten pound weight being placed on my chest. "It's no big deal. I just don't know how long we'll be gone."

  He picked up a rag and began wiping the bar. "That's cool, bring back a souvenir for me," he said in a flat monotone.

  "I'm sorry Henry."

  "For what, not calling? Don't worry about it."

  I shook my head slowly. "I'm just sorry." He raised his eyebrows as he kept wiping as though he didn't know how to respond. "I'm gonna get out of here man. How much do I owe you?"

  "You don't owe me anything, but think about what I told you," he said, pointing to the dance floor. "And have a good time."

  I forced a smile as I got up to leave. I walked away from the back bar as quickly as my three legs would allow and climbed the short section of stairs to a side platform overlooking the dance floor. Each step I took away from Henry was a step toward Zurich. It felt like I could go out the front door, make a right and walk all the way there.

  Poppy wasn't hard to find. She danced at the edge of the dance floor in erotic serpentine movements holding her arms above her head to exaggerate the effect. Several people, men and women, looked on mesmerized as she swayed to the gothic rhythms of the band. I watched as she danced. Everything that was happening, all these changes in my life were because of her. The spell over her was broken when the music stopped. She looked right up at me as though she'd known I was watching her. She smiled widely showing her teeth. I motioned for her to meet me by the stairs.

  "I love this music," she said, throwing her arms around my neck. "There's a place almost exactly like this in Paris. I'll show you."

  "Sounds fun. Are you ready to go?"

  She nodded rapidly. "Did you get your business taken care of?"

  "Yes. Everything's finished here. I'm ready to leave in the morning."

  Antonio stopped in front of the church but stayed in the car as we got out. "Come back at nine o'clock in the morning," she told him as I walked up the steps ahead of her.

  "Where is he going to stay tonight?" I asked.

  "I keep a small place for him across town when I want to be alone," she said stepping inside. "Go on up, I'll join you in a bit."

  She came up a couple of minutes later with a medical vial in her hand. "I think you're going to like this stuff. It's special, real mellow," she said rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.

  "No thank you. I'm fine."

  She looked surprised. "Suit yourself, but there's no need to be a Pollyanna about it."

  "I'm not being a Pollyanna," I said defensively. "I'm just not into it." The vision of Henry's story kept running through my head. "Why do you use it?"

  "I like it," she said matter of fact. "To me it's the same as asking why you smoke. Because you enjoy it right? Cigarettes will kill you the same as this," she said holding up the assembled needle. "So what's the difference?"

  "I just remember what it was like in Turkey. I saw it destroy a lot of people."

  "Weak people," she said, pointing at me. "You and I and the others like us are different. The same rules don't apply. You had better get used to that. Besides, it helps pass time, you'll see one day." She held her breath and inserted the needle between her toes, exhaling as the she pushed in the plunger. "Oh yes, that's nice."

  "I turned away and searched for something to take my mind off Henry's warning. "Who's that?" I asked, pointing to the stone bust on the bureau.

  "My first love, lover," she said, running her hand over my short hair. I rolled my head gently against her hand, exposing my neck, which she kissed as we laid down on the bed. She climbed on top of me and pressed her mouth onto my neck, sucking slightly.

  "Harder," I heard myself whispering. I couldn't hear Henry at all now. I unzipped the top of her body suit and ran my hands over the soft skin of her buttocks as she ran her tongue along my collarbone. I gripped her tightly in my hands and gently probed her wetness with a finger. She let out a long low groan that I felt more through her body than I heard from her lips. She rode up higher on me so I could reach deeper inside her. I visualized her erotic dancing as I tasted the salty skin of her breasts. I rolled her over and slipped the body suit down to her ankles in one motion. She pulled it off and slid her hand between her legs as she watched me undress. I knelt between her thighs. She grabbed me and guided me in as I lay on top of her. Time stopped again. She rose perfectly in anticipation of every thrust, never breaking her penetrating stare into my eyes. I had to look away first and buried my face against her neck as I surrendered to the onrushing ecstasy. I thrust in long strong motions like a lonely whale throwing himself over and over onto an empty beach.

  I lay next to her running my fingers along her arm as I caught my breath. "What are the other ones like?"

  "Like me."

  "Do they use a lot of drugs too?"

  "And then some. I'll admit that we indulge ourselves quite a bit compared to the social norm but it all boils down to what we are."

  "What are we?" I asked.

  "Well no one knows exactly. How are you supposed to know if no one has ever told you? Some think we are blessed to keep on living like we do, others think we are cursed because we can never escape this cycle."

  "What do you think?"

  "You really want to know?"

  "Of course."

  "I think we were created special by God and abandoned, spurned because of our hideousness, not unlike the creature created and neglected by Frankenstein, whose intentions were equally as noble.

  "You see no one ever told any of us why we are different or what to do about it. When we die there's no great revelation, no judgment day, no explanation, there is only another internment here. We just keep coming back over and over again. So eventually you have to ask yourself what is the point in being righteous, virtuous or sacrosanct if you'll just come back anyway? Your position never changes in the next trip. It doesn't matter if you were a murderer or a monk the time before. I've tried it. We've all tried it. That's why we indulge ourselves as we do. And why shouldn't we? That's what I meant when I said you saw opium break weak people. They don't know what we do. They can't know, even if they wanted to."

  "How do you know normal people don't come back?"

  "You misunderstand me; I think they do come back, just like we do. Have you ever heard them talk about feeling an unknown affinity or loathing toward someone they've just met, like they've known them before? That's because they have known them before. I think we are special not because we come back, but because we remember, because we know we have come back and will come back again.

  "The trouble is we live in a Christian society. The main goal of which is eternal life in heaven, or immortality put more simply. The doctrines of Christianity say you must have faith in a savior so that you will live again. What people really need is faith that they have already lived. That is the essence of immortality. You see, Christianity panders perfectly to their weakn
ess and insecurity about this because it gives them some kind of false hope, some false heaven as a payoff for the squandered lives they lead. The horrible thing is that they are ignorant of the truth, and that they will never know that they live a lie."

  "What is the truth?" I interjected.

  "The truth is not what you see when you look around. The truth is what you don't see. The truth is that you don't see men living the way they want to. You don't see them living naturally. Instead they live their lives as they are told to. They live vicariously through this false spirituality never having to take responsibility for their own existence so long as they believe and are forgiven. If that is not a sin I don't know what is.

  "The most frustrating thing is that we can do nothing for them, even though we know and live the truth. No matter how loud we scream, they cannot hear us. You want to grab hold of the bars and rattle the cages that hold them until they will listen, but when you do, you come away with only handfuls of ether. In the end you realize there is nothing you can do. It's chasing ghosts. It's killing a legend, and how do you kill a legend? You don't. You can only replace it."

  2nd NOTEBOOK

  "But why should not every individual man have existed more than once upon this world?"

  G.E. Lessing, The Education of the Human Race, 1778

  11

  My pulse quickened when the wheels barked against the runway. The stewardess announced in four languages that it was 3:00 p.m. local time. Grey clouds and drizzle hung low over the city giving this new frontier a dark and foreboding air.

  I picked up my rucksack along with the airline issue garment box and made my way through customs without difficulty. Poppy came through right behind me.

  We spotted him at the same time as we walked through the sliding glass doors to the damp air outside. He wore a black jacket and hat and stood next to a grey stretch Mercedes Benz sedan holding a white signboard with a black embe on it.

  "That must be for us," I said.

  "It's not specifically for us but we can take it. There will be a chauffeur here full time for the next day or so. Several others will be arriving before tomorrow night."

  "What's tomorrow night?"

  "That's when it begins," she said, closing the door.

  The car pulled away from the curb and out of sight of the terminal. The windshield wipers beat out a steady rhythm as they cut at the light drizzle. Tomorrow night. It's funny how life works. You can run in the same circles for months, years, even decades, then a change comes like a sudden storm at sea blowing you hundreds of miles off course, often forcing you to realize you had no course to begin with. I didn't know near enough about what I was getting into, but I was getting in anyway. What I did know is that I wanted to know more about them, and more about myself. I knew this would be a good change for me, it had to be.

  Street signs printed in German lined the highway that ran into the heart of the city's old quarter. The driver exited onto a main thoroughfare that paralleled the slow moving Limmat River. The city got older the farther he drove. Centuries old church spires rose toward the heavens in front of us. Each narrow, cobblestone side street opened for a split second then closed its secrets as we rushed by. We crossed the river over an old stone bridge and turned down a twisting one way side street only wide enough for one car. 'Augustiner Strasse[18]' was painted in a rectangle on the wall of a building at the end of the block. The serpentine trail of wet cobblestones ended in front of a white brick hotel, The Hotel St. Germain. We pulled into the circular driveway and stopped in front of the large black front door. I looked over at her for some indication of what was going on. My heart was hammering.

  "This is home. This is the Cognomina," she said, waiting for the driver to open her door.

  I followed her. She pulled on a white rope that hung next to the door, ringing a bell inside. I sat down my things, put my nervous hands in my pockets to keep them from moving and rocked back and forth. I looked at her, then looked at the door. Two deadbolts cleared their latches before the door creaked open.

  A tall, thin, tuxedo clad man appeared behind the door. He stood just over six feet tall. The tuxedo jacket hung loosely on his lanky frame. His narrow chiseled face betrayed little about his age, but with the grey intermingled in his black hair and his tired posture I would have guessed him to be about fifty five. He didn't have the tattoo on his hand. He smiled when he saw her. "Hello Madame, so nice to see you again," he said in English with a thick German accent.

  "Thank you, and how are you doing?"

  "Very well Madame. Thank you for asking." He turned to me and tilted his head back. "And you must be Herr Michaels." I nodded. "My name is Leopold Diltz. It is a pleasure to meet you. I'm the caretaker here and your host. Welcome to the Hotel St. Germain. Please come this way, I've already had a suite prepared for you." He bowed slightly and turned back to her. "Your usual suite is ready Madame." He closed and locked the door, then walked ahead of us into the lobby. A large silver and crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling of the lobby and filled every inch of the room with light. Several oil paintings and sketches hung on the white walls above red velvet arm chairs and couches.

  "Can you show me this town tonight?" I asked her in a whisper as we walked behind Diltz.

  "Oh, sorry love, I can't. I've got an appointment later tonight," she said, taking two quick steps ahead of me. "Have any others arrived yet?" she asked Diltz.

  "Yes, about half Madame," he said as he turned right down a short hallway with two doors on each side. He opened the first door on the right. "This is your room sir. Dinner will be served in the dining room at 8 o'clock."

  Poppy stood behind him. I looked at her as I hovered in the open doorway. "Get some rest Evan. I'll see you before I go out," she said and walked away.

  "Don't hesitate to let me know if you need any attention for your injury sir," Diltz said as he closed the door.

  Alone again. The room's furnishings were old but pleasant. Dark wood paneling covered the lower part of the walls and was color matched to the parquet pattern hardwood floor. I perused the books on the recessed bookshelf before I walked into the bathroom, filled the large bathtub, and climbed in.

  The knock on the door woke me at 7:45. It was a young woman dressed in the black and white dress of the staff's uniform. "Your dinner will be ready in a few minutes," she said struggling with the English.

  I donned the dark suit along with a black shoe and sock and walked down the hall toward the lobby.

  "Right this way sir," Mr. Diltz said, sliding two dark wooden doors open revealing a large dining room. The long narrow table had twenty high backed, carved wooden chairs around it. Each one richly inlaid with red leather padding. A single white plate and table setting lay in front of the end chair. "Please be seated. I'll have your meal brought out promptly."

  "Where's everybody else? Isn't Poppy going to eat?"

  "The madame has decided to eat with the others after you've finished." He exited out a side door and quickly reappeared with three staff women trailing behind him, each carrying a silver domed tray. They sat the trays in front of me as two more women appeared carrying wine, water and glasses. The flavorful aromas hit me one by one as they pulled the domes off. "Chicken Kiev, rare roast beef and poached salmon with fresh dill, all with accompanying vegetables." Diltz said, taking a serving spoon from one of the girls.

  "I'll start with the fish," I said.

  He placed a filet on my plate along with rice and steaming brussels sprouts. "Will there be anything else?"

  "Well..." I hesitated.

  "Yes sir?"

  "It's just that I feel sort of uncomfortable eating alone in this large room."

  "Yes?"

  "Would you join me?"

  Mr. Diltz looked surprised and took a few seconds to answer. "Yes of course." He took a seat two chairs down from the end. "Bring some rye rolls and seltzer please," he said to the girl standing next the side door.

  "Have you ever been to Zurich before?" he a
sked

  "No. This is my first trip to Europe since... It's been a while." I said. She reappeared and sat the rolls between us.

  "I'm sorry you have to eat alone like this. There's little I can do about it, but I'm embarrassed that I didn't think about it when I prepared for your arrival. Please excuse the oversight."

  "It's alright. It was explained to me," I said. "You know why I'm here don't you?"

  "Oh yes," he answered.

  "But you're not one of them are you?"

  "No, my position as the caretaker here is something different. You could say I'm an organizer, a secretary of sorts," he said, buttering a roll.

  "How did you start here? I mean why you?"

  "I inherited the position. My family has a unique relationship with the Cognomina. The men in my family have been caretakers here for five generations. We are the only people in the world they can completely trust."

  "How long have you been here?"

  "I took over after my father's death in 1974."

  I thought about his answer as I ate. "Poppy said the last newcomer, the last neophyte, to enter was in the 1920's, so you've never received someone like me."

  "That is correct sir. It's a first for both of us you might say," he said reaching for his drink. "Please let me know if there are any inadequacies in the accommodations."

  "Everything is great so far. But I might need you to make a map for me, something that points out places of interest nearby, if it's no trouble. I want to explore a little and Poppy said she had an appointment, so it looks like I'm solo tonight."

  "It's no trouble at all. There are plenty of sights within a few blocks. This is the oldest part of the city. I'll make a map for you so you don't get lost, there are numerous unmarked side streets and blind alleys that can easily lead you off course."