The 97th Step

by Steve Perry

  Pen rounded a corner and stopped, as if hitting an invisible wall. There. Just ahead. There he was.

  A man, young, dressed in a thin and ragged coverall, his feet bare, stood on the street staring into infinity.

  He looked to be a soldier, from his issue clothing and his bearing. Some irony there, perhaps. A man roasting in the fire of cosmic consciousness, holy, but undirected, and one of the Confed's own. At least he had been one of them. But no more. Now, what he needed was a teacher.

  He needed Pen.

  Feeling almost overwhelmed by emotion, Pen approached the young man. His heart speeded up, and his breathing started to come faster. He slowed his walk and breathing. Easy, Pen. Still, it bubbled joyously in him, and it was all he could do to keep from dancing. Here was what he had been preparing for nearly all of his life. It no longer mattered that he, Pen, was not going to be the hinge upon which the fate of civilized man turned. He understood truly for the first time what his role was to be, and knowing one's place was more important than the place itself. Such a simple thing, and yet it had taken him a lifetime to learn. All great truths were simple, and that was both great and true itself.

  He was not going to be mankind's savior. But he was going to be the savior's teacher. It was a fine place to be. For him, the only place to be.

  Here was the moment: Pen remembered what Von had said to him, decades past. It would serve as well now as it had then:

  "Lost, pilgrim?" Pen said.

  The young man refocused himself back into the physical world with visible effort. It must be hard to come back to Maya when one was living in Paradise. He smiled at Pen. "Lost? No. I don't know where I am, but I'm not lost."

  Under his concealing mask, Pen's smile was radiant, nearly matching that of the younger man. The proper response, of course. He laughed. "A zen answer, pilgrim, and perfect for a holy man. Have you been such long?"

  "I'm not a holy man. Until a few days ago, I was a soldier. Something… happened. I… saw something, felt something, somehow. A vision."

  Pen nodded. He would have to explain things to this man simply, for despite his new-found power, this soldier was a child. Well, it was time for his work to begin, finally. Pen said, "Ah. Relampago. You are blessed, pilgrim." He smiled at the man's blank look.

  Blessed: You have felt the cosmic fire I wanted to feel for so long. It was only when I gave up trying so hard to get it that it finally became possible for me. I have not basked in its glow as you have, but now, I have a purpose. It's a start.

  Blessed: Knowing your place is more important than the place itself, I finally understand that.

  Blessed: Knowing who you are gives you a freedom. You have felt the cosmic allness, and so you know in a way that is not possible for me to know. Someday, perhaps, but that's not important, not really.

  Yes, you are blessed, young soldier. And after all these years, finally, so am I.

  The young man stared at him, uncomprehending, and Pen smiled beneath his shroud. Time to go to work, Pen.

  Time to go to work at last.

  Table of Contents

  Part One

  The Seeker Asleep

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Part Two

  The Siblings of the Shroud

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Part Three

  The Ninety-Seventh Step

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Fourty