Unlight

by Chandra Shekhar

  Of the Sun there soon was left no trace.

  Left in the dark with the Sun unseen

  The planet’s cooling was swift and mean;

  It got chilly at first, then chillier still

  Then colder yet, then cold enough to kill.

  But humanity, to its utter shame

  Did nothing more than scoff and blame;

  By ignoring the Shroud until far too late

  The human race thus sealed its fate.

  It mattered not if they were weak or strong

  They couldn’t escape a planet gone wrong;

  They died on the roads, they died in their beds

  They froze in the fields, they froze in their sheds.

  Billions of lives, wiped out in a trice!

  Billions no more to know virtue or vice!

  Billions of humans who’d never get older!

  Yet the planet only got colder and colder.

  Soon came the end of the last human life

  No more would man know joy or strife

  And yet did the cold keep marching on

  Until Nature herself was dead and gone.

  “Brilliant!” said Anna. “This is the best poem I’ve heard in my life. And on this high note, I pronounce myself completely cured.”

  So Anna was fine. But on September 17 of Year Eight, Nicole couldn’t get out of bed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Existence

  With her natural empathy and professionally-trained emotional antenna, Elizabeth always kept a watchful eye on her family. She knew only too well how even the healthiest people could fall apart under stress and how psychological problems could derail even the best-organized social groups. Jessica’s rebellious spirit had been an early concern, but that was now history. Anna’s fragility had been another potential worry, but she too had outgrown her teenage diffidence and vulnerability. Both had matured into strong, confident women, calmed and toughened by their Shell years. Larry’s excessive concern for the family’s safety was another worry, but they had found an effective—if unconventional—remedy for that. No, Larry and the girls were fine, or at least as fine as they could be under their circumstances. And Elizabeth was too old a campaigner to worry about herself. She had always been tranquil, and now, thanks to her new relationship with Larry, she felt rejuvenated.

  The problem was with the fifth member of the family. Elizabeth had long been aware that things were not all right at Maison Nicole. Her daughter was the one who had lost the most and gained the least in the move to the Shell. The girls had blossomed from gawky teens into charming women, with Larry as their adored and adoring protector. As for herself, she now enjoyed delights that surpassed even those of her days with George. But Nicole? She hadn’t gained much and had lost a great deal. She no longer had patients to treat. And although she had never been a doting mother, in the pre-Shroud days she did have her parental responsibilities. Now her grown-up daughters no longer needed her mothering. Her romance with Larry had sustained her in the beginning, but that was over years ago. Likewise, her concern about her mother’s health kept her engaged for a few years, but now that too had receded. Elizabeth now enjoyed much better health—her cardio figures were much better thanks to her medications, and she brimmed with energy.

  Nicole therefore had nothing to occupy her. And into this void came troubling thoughts.

  Nicole’s had been an unexamined life. The death of a patient would give her the occasional twinge of existential unease, but such feelings rarely persisted—there was always the next patient and the next one after that. Then back home for a late dinner with the family, an hour of TV—a sitcom, crime drama, or cooking show, something entertaining rather than challenging—and then off to bed for a few hours before the next day’s busy routine. The advent of Larry made only a minor change in her lifestyle. She would take the occasional afternoon off when he was in town or go in to work an hour or two later than usual. Her life became more enjoyable, but its core remained unchanged.

  Her hectic overcommitted life in pre-Shroud Simpsonville had kept her grounded in immediate needs and left her no time to dwell on fundamental questions of life and death. But now, deprived of her work and family responsibilities, she couldn’t avoid confronting them. Initially, she’d been content to have an occasional chat with Larry or Elizabeth, but those conversations had stimulated rather than soothed her. Though sympathetic, Larry was unable to offer much practical help—the two of them were not in the same boat. While Nicole felt herself spiritually adrift, Larry was firmly anchored to the practical realities of their existence. He had his mission in life, which was to keep them all safe and happy. He was down to earth and pragmatic—hopelessly left-brained, as he put it. All he could do was to advise her to talk to her mother.

  Elizabeth did her best. She had long conversations with her daughter where she shared insights acquired over a lifetime of spiritual exploration. Elizabeth had grown up in a secular household. Her parents and siblings were more interested in education, career, and community work than religion. But very early in her life, when she was still in school, she had felt the need to seek a deeper meaning in life beyond the purely material. As a teenager she attended church regularly, but as she grew into adulthood she found her pastor’s sermons simplistic and unconvincing. She briefly experimented with drugs, and while they did occasionally help her glimpse an inner bliss inaccessible through her conscious state, such experiences were fleeting. It was only when she plunged into Buddhism, meditation, dream yoga, and other Eastern spiritual disciplines that she found what she was looking for. They helped her bypass her conscious mind and senses to find something profound and meaningful deep inside her psyche. Thus began a lifelong practice of looking inwards, leading to a career as a spiritual counselor. She was not qualified to teach specific meditative techniques, however, so instead she engaged her patients in discussions and suggested a number of religious, philosophical, and spiritual works where they might find answers to the questions troubling them. This discussion-oriented approach had worked remarkably well with the disturbed youths who were her principal clients, and she had hoped it would help Nicole too. But in this she was disappointed.

  Nicole did enjoy her chats with her mother. It was a relief to articulate thoughts which, she now realized, had troubled her for a long time, even before the Shroud. Their discussions were an intriguing journey into hitherto unexplored spiritual domains. But in practical terms she came away empty handed. Her mother was unable to provide the mental peace she now desperately sought. Elizabeth had a naturally serene temperament, and in her own dreamy way was as pragmatic and down to earth as Larry. She was willing to accept the collective spiritual wisdom handed down by her teachers. Nicole, unlike her, had a restless mind that wouldn’t accept second-hand wisdom. She needed answers. What was the purpose of existence? Was there a creator? Why did pain and suffering exist? Why wasn’t happiness universal and permanent? Why would a benevolent creator create the Shroud?

  Conventional religions offered no answers. Discourses by spiritual teachers—Augustine, Krishnamurti, Trungpa—weren’t much more enlightening. Nor did the works of Descartes, Russell, Sartre and other philosophers prove very helpful.

  Although the questions and doubts churned away at the back of her mind, Nicole initially kept them to herself. She tried to maintain a normal level of interest and engagement in their day-to-day activities, but she found them increasingly meaningless. Living this “double life” wasn’t too difficult at first. It wasn’t until the beginning of Year Eight, when she started telling Larry and Elizabeth about her inner turmoil, that anyone else knew about her thoughts. Even then, the others took it as a not-unusual reaction to their perilous situation. No one realized how central, how all-consuming those thoughts had become. Even Elizabeth didn’t grasp the extent of her daughter’s spiritual crisis.

  Then came the blue fungus that killed all their plants. Anna, the plant lover, recovered, but Nicole, who had no special interest in pl
ants, didn’t. To her the die-off was the last straw, the last thread in the shroud that smothered her faith in a meaningful world. Her inner questions now became deafening. She felt a weight of hopelessness, of despair, that she couldn’t shake off. With a superhuman effort, she continued to perform her daily tasks, forcing a cheery optimism that rang increasingly hollow. She secretly dosed herself with anti-depressants; the drugs gave physical relief but didn’t quell her spiritual agony.

  One September morning in Year Eight found Nicole still in bed while the others were up and about, sipping coffee and waiting for her to get up and join them. But she couldn’t. She tried to call out, but her voice refused to rise above a whisper. It seemed as if a heavy weight was pressing down on her. Am I dead? She immediately dismissed the thought—she could still see and hear the others, and even smell the coffee. I’ve had a stroke was her next thought, but she had enough sensation in her limbs to convince her otherwise. Nor did it feel like a heart attack. Whatever the cause, she could barely move her fingers and toes. Getting up was out of the question. She lay there in silent misery, waiting for someone to notice her plight.

  She didn’t have to wait long. Just after 7:00 a.m. Jessica came to wake her, took one look at her face—saw the stream of tears, the dribbling saliva, the ashen pallor—and screamed. Everyone rushed to Nicole’s side and gazed at her in shock. Nobody knew what to do.

  “She’s trying to say something,” Anna said, and Larry knelt down beside Nicole and brought his ear close to her mouth.

  “Help me up,” Nicole whispered. “Please.”

  Lifting her gently, Larry brought her to the couch and held her on his lap as the others took turns to kiss her, stroke her hair, and murmur endearments. After a few seconds, their practical side asserted itself. Anna and Elizabeth, both trained in nursing by Nicole, took her vital measures. “BP 100 over 60, a tad low but okay, and pulse is normal,” Anna said. Elizabeth drew a blood sample and ran it through an analyzer from the clinic. They waited impatiently as it performed a gamut of tests. “It’s all looking good,” Elizabeth said finally. “Glucose, electrolytes, everything.” Nicole’s reflexes seemed normal, her pupils contracted nicely, and her heartbeat sounded fine. But she slumped wearily against Larry’s chest, unable to move.

  Larry and the others looked at one another anxiously. “Any thoughts?” he said.

  “Beats me,” said Anna. “The vitals are great. It’s definitely not heart attack or stroke.”

  “Some form of paralysis?”

  “Her nerve functions are normal.”

  “So the poor dear could get up if she wanted to …” said Elizabeth hesitantly.

  “Then why doesn’t she?” asked Anna.

  Everyone stared at Nicole, who was slumped against Larry with blank eyes and slack jaws.

  “Can you hear us?” Larry shook her gently. “Can you get up?”

  Nicole didn’t respond. Their words didn’t seem to be registering on her.

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to get up,” said Jessica at last.

  “What?”

  “Logic. She can get up but won’t. Ergo, she must not want to get up.”

  “That’s crazy!” Anna stared at her sister. “Why wouldn’t she want to get up?”

  “I don’t know,” Jessica sighed. “Forget it.”

  Elizabeth suddenly sat up straight and grabbed Jessica’s arm. “I think you might be on to something.”

  The others stared at her.

  “On to what, Grandma?” said Jessica. “I was just shooting my mouth off as usual.”

  “No, no, darling, you never do that. Everything you say has a point. And in this case, I think you might have hit upon the cause of your poor mother’s problem.”

  “What cause?”

  “This is just a wild thought, but I’m wondering if her inability to get up is a symptom of something more fundamental.”

  “Like what?”

  Elizabeth hesitated. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’m wondering if she’s lost the will to live.”

  The others gazed at her in shocked bewilderment.

  “That’s absurd!” Larry cried, holding Nicole close and fighting tears. “How can you even say such a thing?”

  Elizabeth flushed under his scrutiny, but spoke firmly: “Haven’t you noticed how dull she’s been lately? I know she’s been a good sport and has tried to engage in everything. But didn’t you notice that she seemed to be deriving no pleasure from anything, just going through the motions?”

  They looked at Nicole for a few seconds, as if hoping she would deny it. But she showed no sign of having heard them.

  “Yeah, I did notice that,” said Anna, after a pause. “She seemed to be just, you know, pretending to be cheerful.”

  “Forced smiles,” said Jessica, nodding. “I could tell a mile away.”

  “So could I,” Larry said in a low voice, looking down. “I kept asking her if she was troubled by something, but she always denied it.”

  “We should’ve done something,” Elizabeth said.

  Larry shook his head in puzzlement. “But first tell me why, Elizabeth. Let’s assume you’re right, that she’s lost the will to live. But why? How?”

  Elizabeth stared into space for a few seconds before replying. “I can only guess. I think she might have lost a sense of purpose. Perhaps she thinks we don’t need her.”

  There was a long, shocked silence. Jessica might overstate a concern for melodramatic effect, but not Elizabeth, and her words carried utter conviction. The moment she finished speaking, every other concern was forgotten. All their activities, all their worries, all the disasters they had weathered—the air purifier that failed, the plants that perished—all of that paled into insignificance beside the urgent, overpowering need to rescue Nicole from whatever inner demons were plaguing her and make it clear to her beyond the slightest doubt that she was absolutely vital to all of them. That, without her, they would have no will to live.

  “But how did it happen so fast?” asked Larry, almost pleadingly. “I know she wondered about the meaning of existence and things like that. But losing the will to live? How did that happen?”

  Elizabeth sighed deeply. “I think I’m to blame. She used to come to me with her questions, and I tried to help her as much as I could. But my knowledge is so limited—I’ve always been content to rest my faith in the great spiritual traditions. This poor girl, on the other hand, had the burning need to find out for herself. I knew that my answers didn’t satisfy her, and all the books I recommended weren’t much help. I failed her!” Elizabeth wept, and her granddaughters rushed to embrace and console her.

  “But what could you have done, my love?” Larry said. “I’m no expert on spiritual matters, but it seems like she needed to go on her own inner journey and find her own answers.”

  “That’s where I could’ve been of real help to her,” Elizabeth said between sobs. “Instead of giving her theoretical notions, I should’ve taught her how to meditate … how to look inward for answers. But I didn’t.”

  “Why not, Grandma?” Anna asked.

  “Because I never got permission from my Master to teach her techniques. But I shouldn’t have been so hung up about that. I’m such a fool.”

  “Don’t cry, Grandma! You just followed rules, that’s all.”

  “Is it too late?” asked Jessica. “To teach her some spiritual tricks?”

  Elizabeth’s weeping subsided, and she smiled through her tears. “No, it might not be. My Master said she could teach even a zombie to meditate.”

  “Then so can you,” said Larry. “But first things first. We can’t do anything if we don’t get her up and about. How do we do that?”

  “Give her a stimulant, maybe?” suggested Anna. “You know, amphetamines or something.”

  Larry looked at Jessica and Elizabeth, who both nodded. “Just this once can’t hurt,” Jessica said.

  “Let’s go for it.”

  After some discussion and examinatio
n of the drugs available in the clinic, they administered an intravenous cocktail of methamphetamine and modanafil, boosted with a stiff dose of caffeine. Within a minute the stimulant began to take effect. Nicole opened her eyes and blinked at her family.

  “Did I pass out or something?” she asked. Her voice was weak, but now audible. Larry gently helped her stand up and take a few tentative steps with his support. She was obviously relieved to sit down again. Her daughters snuggled up to her, with Jessica stroking her hair while Anna placed her cheek against hers. Both girls were weeping.

  “What’s wrong with me? I’ve never felt like this.”

  The others looked at one another, wondering how to give her their diagnosis and how she would receive it.

  “Your vitals are all great, Mum,” said Anna, snuggling close.

  “Then why do I feel like jelly?”

  Larry cleared his throat. “Dearest, we suspect your problem might not be physical.”

  “Then what?” Despite her weakness, Nicole said with some spirit: “Are you saying I’m depressed?”

  Larry looked to Elizabeth for help, but she motioned him to continue. “It’s deeper than that, we think,” Larry started hesitantly. “It might stem from your spiritual longings. You seem to have lost a sense of purpose.” Nicole gasped and shook her head feebly in protest, but Larry continued: “You seem to have lost the will to live.”

  The others waited in anxious silence to see how Nicole would react. The silence stretched for so long that Larry was about to repeat his words, but Nicole finally responded: “It’s true that I’ve not been feeling good lately. Perhaps you’re right. I seem to be feeling a lack of …” Her voice trailed off.

  “I guess none of us realized how dark it was for you, the emptiness you must’ve been feeling inside.”

  Nicole sighed, and after a few moments managed a weak smile. “Talking of emptiness inside, how about a bit of breakfast?”

  The others beamed with relief. They would have to watch her carefully, but for now Nicole seemed to be out of danger.