by Toker, Dor
“Where am I?” thought Adam.
“This is your dream,” Chapalcharie answered voicelessly, “you tell me where we are.”
“The edges of the world,” Adam thought, “we’re standing where God should be standing.”
Chapalcharie smiled. “A bit presumptuous to try and replace your maker, but I guess it’s also true. You can’t deceive yourself in a dream.”
“So if I’m standing where the creators should be,” Adam began, “where are the creators themselves?”
Chapalcharie didn’t answer. They stood silently and watched animal herds passing through a valley, way below them. The ocean covered large areas of the view spread in front of their eyes, then the water retreated and the earth grew forests and shrubs. Vast animals, pre-historic dinosaurs sprouted from the earth, marched in front of them and crumbled to dirt. Giraffes and elephants grew and crumbled like sand statues in the wind. Apes formed next to them, then human beings, and next to them roamed birds and other animals that crumbled as well and became shining dots of light. Human cities took shape in front of their eyes, and then evaporated into deserts. Adam was enthralled.
“In the beginning there was nothing,” Chapalcharie suddenly began reciting, “no sky, no earth, no sun, no moon, no stars, no air, no emptiness, no space. God was everything. God was nothing. Actually, he wasn’t even God without believers to worship him. He was himself, and he wasn’t. He contained himself and himself contained him.”
Adam listened to the Australian Prime Minister’s story while continuing to gaze at the distant sights. “The inconceivable length of time made God feel desolate and lonely. And bored as well, very bored. In his thoughts, which were and weren’t his body, a feeling gradually formed into a determination, ‘It is not good that God should be alone’, and from within it, God formed the decision to create a friend for himself. He concentrated for a moment and immediately, a limitless mirror formed in front of him, dotted with points of light, glittering suns that allowed God to see that which reflected from the mirror. He saw himself, or his invented companion. When he opened his mouth to speak, the one beyond the mirror spoke to him as well. When he bent, his companion crouched as well. When he expressed his opinion, the one reflected in the mirror agreed with him. Soon, God was bored again. His companion did not challenge him in any way. He felt lonely, even more than he had felt before. He turned away from the mirror, making sure the one facing him turned around as well. They ignored each other as if each existed by himself.”
Chapalcharie stopped his recitation and sat on the ground. Adam, fascinated, hurried to sit down beside him. Chapalcharie waited a moment, and then spoke again. “Once more, God was alone. And bored. He decided to try again. He sought a challenge, he wanted to face powerful forces that would make him demonstrate his numerous diverse skills, one that would infiltrate through his endless power and scratch the nerves of his senses, blunt from disuse. He concentrated for a brief moment, or the period of time a God needed to concentrate, before time as we know it was invented. There, in front of his eyes, appeared the universe, space, wider than the width of God and separate from him. God regarded his creation and became frightened. So far, he had thought his abilities were limitless, but his final creation was so vast that he couldn’t see its beginning or its end. Space defined to God the limit of his powers, and the strength of its silence was even greater than the strength of God. The unknown, emitted from the edgeless absence, was inconceivable even to the mind of a great God such as himself. In order to perceive a little of his own creation, which had turned on him, he began to plant space with stars and suns and the distances between the miniscule dots served as a scale to measure the large space. But instead of assisting him, it merely helped him realize what he had created was too large to be his equal. Once more, God felt he had failed in his mission.”
“A long time passed. God ignored his last two creations. He concentrated, withdrew into himself, burrowed into his deep self, tried to find an interest for his mind. He felt within his depths until he thought of the first particle, the one he had created space from, and infiltrated it, broke it down into its elements. Then, once he had thoroughly studied them, arrested and examined himself. For a moment, he felt a sense of elation. God enjoyed the process of studying and research and continued to penetrate more and more until he realized that as he broke down matter into tinier particles, he became smaller and smaller. Space closed in on him, filling with emptiness the extents his diminished self had left behind. He pushed the universe and felt the weight of its resistance on his body. A sense of dread overtook him. For a moment, he was afraid he’d remain small and puny. He pushed again, this time with a greater force. Bit by bit, he managed to return his volume and his being. Once more, he felt he had failed, and once more, he became bored.”
“For an instant that lasted millions of years, God fell asleep. To an onlooker, (there weren’t any onlookers, apart, perhaps, from God’s image in the large mirror) he would seem dead, but actually he thought and concentrated on the only need that occupied him – the need for someone to be with him. Even so, he may have fallen asleep now and then, during that long period of time in which he was dumbstruck.”
“Suddenly, a metaphoric smile appeared on his metaphoric face. He finally knew what he should do. A slight blink and the stars and suns he had created arranged themselves in a wide circular formation. Another blink and a small solar system materialized next to it, containing the potential of its new creation, Planet Earth. He nodded and the third planet in the solar system was covered with a thin plumage. He acted according to the plan he had conceived and took care to place all elements of the equation in their proper place. Only then, after he had finished, he felt he was ready for his truly vast creation. It was supposed to be the creation of the unexpected developing element. A being that would be the one true potential, to one day become an intelligent creature equal to God, a companion to the endless journey through time and space – a Man. Everything was ready for the arrival of Man, God announced a holiday in his own kingdom, which was himself. He stretched a pointed finger, penetrated through the plumage mantle and touched the gray ball. Instantly, the chunk of rock began rotating, separating day and night in its rotation. The color of the ball became bluish and water covered its entire surface. The plumage like mantle became tinged with shades of blue as well and the sunlight, which penetrated it, was clear and clean. Physical and geographical processes began to take place on the surface of the small planet and within its core. The seas retreated, revealing moss covered land, green grass sprouted between the verdant deposits, then plants and trees began to blossom. The noise of buzzing insects was heard suddenly, followed by the croaking sounds of frogs. The seas filled with fish and the land was quickly covered by dense shrubbery. Reptiles that devoured the toads were in their turn devoured by larger animals and so forth. And among the abundance God had created, human beings appeared. First in little groups, frightened and defenseless, unable to survive, then gradually less frightened, able to survive the harsh living conditions and defend themselves from predators. When the sounds emitted from their mouths connected into language and sticks turned to instruments, God left them to themselves and returned to his own affairs. He didn’t lack for time, and a new and pleasant sensation engulfed him. He felt the joy of creation pumping through his veins and intense anticipation to discover the destiny of his creation, Mankind.”
“The outburst of spontaneous enthusiasm that had captured his heart dissipated, but its scent still lingered in his nostrils. For the first time in his long life, God knew curiosity.”
“God was happy.”
Chapalcharie finished the story and leaned back on the ground. Adam sat beside him, silent, concentrating on the changing views before him.
“The story I’ve just told you is part of the oldest chronicle ever written by man, and the most amazing thing is that this text, found at an excavation site in a desert next to Jerusalem, is identical to the ancient myth of a
nation that lives on the other end of the Earth, here in Australia. Researchers say it’s been told for over three thousand years. My mother used to recite it to me every night before bedtime.” Chapalcharie arrested for a moment, remembering with pleasure his mother’s voice, then continued: “I’ve conducted my own research about this text and it turns out it is actually ascribed to the man the Mendelssohnian theory was named after. Now, you tell me, how could it be that the exact same story appears in different places at different times? Curious, isn’t it? And even more curious-why did it spring to my mind just now?”
Adam shrugged. “You’re the one who told it. You must have had your reasons.”
Chapalcharie smiled. “I’ve never experienced a dream like yours,” he said, “and I’m unable to interpret it for you.”
“I can interpret it for myself,” said Adam, “it’s a dream about responsibility, a dream about destiny. My destiny.” Chapalcharie was impressed by Adam’s sharpness of thought, his maturity, his wisdom.
“Every dream can be regarded as a binding contract between itself and its dreamer,” he explained, “as an alliance in which each side gives something and gets something in return.”
“Not only giving and getting, but sacrificing and being sacrificed,” said Adam, “I need to choose whether I would like to sacrifice, and who or what I should sacrifice.”
“The signing of a contract,” said Chapalcharie, “requires negotiation. The secret is to be willing to go all the way to the end, to the place from which you won’t be willing to go beyond and know it is your lower limit. In most cases, this will also be your rival’s lower limit. Once you know your own weaknesses, you’ll be able to better understand your rival’s weaknesses.” Adam nodded and closed his eyes. Chapalcharie lingered to regard him a moment more, then nodded toward a point of light that had been floating all that time behind Adam. He closed his eyes and woke up, still holding the leading stick. Adam had already removed his hand from the stick and seemed to be self-absorbed.
“A man once told me a story,” said Chapalcharie, “perhaps you’re familiar with it. Have you ever heard the fable about the chick?”
“You mean Joseph’s chick?” asked Adam.
“Do you know another chick?” the Prime Minister answered with his own question. “So you’re familiar with the story?”
“No,” Adam shook his head. He was surprised to discover Chapalcharie knew Joseph and felt the ring around him continue to tighten. “I thought it was just an expression Joseph used when he wanted to point out the fact that I’m too young.”
“Don’t underestimate Joseph’s intelligence,” Chapalcharie cautioned him, “he’s one of the smartest people I know.”
“If he’s so smart,” Adam said with a belittling tone, “how come I managed to get away from him?”
“Are you sure you got away?” asked Chapalcharie, “have you ever considered he may have allowed you to get away?”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” answered Adam, “considering the fact he made such an effort to catch me.”
“What about the ones who followed him to get to you?” Chapalcharie surprised the youth, “in any event,” he immediately changed the course of the conversation, “the story of the chick goes like this:
One chick was walking last in a long line of chicks, his brothers and sisters, following his mother, a fat chicken, on their way back to the coop from the yard. It was late evening and darkness engulfed the small farm. He must have been busy with lofty thoughts, because he missed a turn, in the gray area between the farmer’s house and the pigsty, and lost his mother’s tracks. He had never been lost before. He was by himself and even though he was mature for his age, fear began to overwhelm him. He retraced his footsteps, trying to find out where his brothers had turned to and immediately realized he could not recall where they came from. Filled with panic, the chick began to run back and forth in the yard, calling his mother in his squeaky voice, but his mother didn’t answer. The dark skies illuminated by a flash of lightning, immediately followed by a loud crash that filled up the entire world. Rain began to fall, a slow drip that gradually intensified to a downpour. The wet chick searched for shelter and squeezed into a hole in the ground.
“Hey, get out of here,” a voice sounded from within the hole. Two gleaming eyes regarded him from the darkness and behind them appeared a gray mouse. “This is my home, there’s no room for another animal here.” The chick got scared, immediately obeyed and headed out into the rain again. He rushed under a tall mushroom, which provided him protection from the rain.
“Scram,” a voice was heard from behind the mushroom stem, “this is my place.” The owner of the voice turned toward the chick. It was a colorful night-gnome of the nastier type. For lack of any other choice, the chick continued with his search and pushed his way into the goat pen. But the goat pen was so crowded, he was afraid he’d be crushed, so he ran away again into the wet evening. Then he tried the pigsty and was thrown from there as well. Helpless, frozen and wet to the bone, the little chick stood in the middle of the yard, flooded by petrifying fear. Suddenly, a jet of warm and sticky excrement landed on him. A cow that happened to stand above him passed some loose stool and drowned his body with wet, warm filth. At first, the chick thought he was done for. The excrement had dirtied his golden plumage and the smell threatened to stifle him. But he immediately regained his composure, felt warm and comfortable and his body delighted in the viscid touch. He began to wade in the brown liquid and was no longer in any hurry. A horse that happened to pass by, examined him at length and asked, “Why are you staying inside the poop?”
“Because it’s warm,” answered the chick.
“But it’s shit!” the horse persisted.
“Yes,” said the chick and smiled a beakfull, “but the smell of this shit, I’m already familiar with.”
Chapalcharie finished his story and added, “The moral of this tale is obvious: provide a man with the minimal conditions that make him feel safe and with which he is familiar, and he won’t budge from his place. Joseph normally finishes the tale with this sentence: never fear, mediocrity is always here.”
Adam thought about the story and its moral, a serious expression on his face. “What does he mean?” he asked after a while.
“What do you think he meant by it?” Chapalcharie placed a mirror at the end of the youth’s question.
“Perhaps he meant that I’m acting like the chick from the fable instead of looking for a better option?”
“Perhaps…” the Prime Minister retained an air of uncertainty. “You have undertaken a complicated task,” said Chapalcharie.
“I undertook nothing,” answered Adam, “this task was forced on me, whatever it is.”
“No one can force anything on you,” said the head of the dreamers, “you create your own fate. Come,” he said and stood on his feet, “I’ll take you to Elizabeth.” Adam obeyed and they both left the room.
*
When the time came for Adam and Elizabeth to part on the ramp leading to the European space shuttle, Adam gave her a warm embrace. “Hartson will wait for you at the American base in Europa. He will guide and protect you. Protect yourself as well. And one more thing,” she immediately added, “try to overcome your desire for vengeance. It distracts you, clouds your judgment and won’t bring back your loved ones. Remember how much I love you and take good care of yourself, not because you’re important to the world, but because you’re important to me.” He smiled into her warm embrace, then detached himself from her, raised his hand in a waving motion, turned around and swallowed in the conveyor belt leading toward the gigantic space shuttle. Elizabeth remained standing by the window facing the docking and landing site long after the conveyor belt closed and detached from the shuttle. The vast aircraft, standing at the other end of the soundproof acrylic glass, shook, then took off and rose to the sky.
Chapter 14
The lower level of the Scandinavia space shuttle appeared, at first glanc
e, like a maze of corridors flowing into a large area that served as a dining hall and a kind of guest lounge for passengers who couldn’t afford a ticket for the lower, more luxurious levels of the giant vacuum craft (Vacuumfly ©) .
In the second half of the first century to the Mendelssohnian count, when the nuclear fusion traps (LENR ©) became significantly smaller and their energy production rates grew, the trapping devices (E-CAT ©) became operable as space motion engines. The vacuum crafts, built to carry man to the edges of the solar system, were able to move at speeds faster than half the speed of light and enabled the superpowers to begin space conquest expeditions. Travelling time to Mars became significantly shorter, so did the time it took to reach the moons of Jupiter, Europa, Io, Ganymede, Callisto and all other sixty-two moons of the largest planet surrounding the Sun. The superpowers erected military and civilian bases in all of them. The corporations built mining colonies that quarried the surface of the planets and their moons. Some of them were connected by tunnels to the army bases and to other, secret bases, detached from one another and able to operate independently.
Upon his entry to the “Scandinavia” shuttle, which was a giant vacuum craft, Adam was directed by a holographic support robot (Hologram Support Robot ©) to a small cabin he shared with two other passengers. The tiny cabin was located on the ninth level, the lowest and most Spartan passenger level on the shuttle. Elizabeth had purchased a one-way ticket to Jupiter’s moon Europa for him. She recommended that he mingle with as many people as possible so as not to be discovered by the space shuttle’s owner and operators. He marched down corridors, allowing the ticket navigator to direct him to the cabin in which he was supposed to stay for the course of the journey. The quiet that surrounded him on his way burdened his shoulders like a pair of tongs. The other passengers that passed him by seemed to be suffering from the weight of silence as well.