Pascale's Wager: Homelands of Heaven

by Anthony Bartlett

  Finally his sobs subsided and, embarrassed, he raised his head, displaying a stained face and reddened eyes. Jonas, who was wearing a toga from his room, offered him a corner to wipe his tears. He said, “I knew one day I'd discover the purpose of this useless bit of drapery!”

  People laughed gratefully and the mood lightened. Palmiro wiped his face on Jonas' sleeve and there was more laughter. He cleared his throat and said “I also want to offer a toast. I want to toast you all, for what you just did for me.” And he raised his glass, “To you, the future of the Homelands!”

  Everyone echoed “The future of the Homelands,” and once more they tasted the exquisite wine. The mood now was euphoric. The catastrophic circumstance of the infection had destroyed the world for this remnant of Immortals, but the empty space it made had let something new enter, a complete surprise. They were bathed in the experience of forgiveness. Palmiro, the great destroyer, had been forgiven, and in same moment they experienced their own forgiveness, from the age-long cruelty and selfishness of Heaven, from their inhuman way of being human. On one side of the table Colette hugged Saiorse and then she hugged Charlize. Saiorse went round the table and hugged Jonas and then Stavros and Hona. Charlize followed her round and touched Palmiro on the shoulder. “I never thought I'd say anything like this, but you've changed me, Palmiro. Right now, I feel it, I feel different and without you it wouldn't have happened.”

  Palmiro stood up awkwardly and she hugged him. All at once he was back in the Homeland, in the Training Center, the dining hall, with Danny and his gang, and once more his whole journey from the narrow world of the TEPs to the apocalypse of Heaven sped before his eyes. He already knew he had to return to the North but the drama of his personal story and its destiny had not hit him before like this. He remembered his mother, and, before that, his father. He remembered the men of the camps. He remembered Finn, and once again he remembered Pascale's words to him. He pulled back from Charlize, looked at her and kissed her softly on the cheek. Then he turned and said, “I have something important to say to everyone. If you would, please, can you sit down?”

  The others found their seats again and he began to explain what he thought was the background to the recent bad weather Heaven was experiencing. Something had gone wrong with the Weather Shield and he had a good idea of what had happened. He told the story of Guest and his intense desire to find the switches to the refrigeration system. It was essential now to return to the Northern Homeland to try and stabilize things. The Heavenly Homeland would probably survive in the interim, but if the situation in the north continued to run out of control, a second catastrophe would take place, this time overwhelming the other known community of humans on earth. They had already suffered so much, and continuing chaos in their Homeland would inevitably spill over here into Heaven. He turned to Hona who had been a silent observer during the whole meal. He recalled that because of the arrival of Jonas and the others, she had not had a chance to reply to the final question he had asked her, about preparing a shuttle to return to the North. He needed to know, would she be willing to do that? If so, he would be able to present his vision fully to the others.

  Hona had not intervened in the argument, letting Palmiro’s confrontation with the Immortals take its own course. But she too had been impressed by the feeling of forgiveness and the decision of the group to seek a future. The mood of hope made it impossible to stand in the way. “Yes, you are right, something must be done. If we are the only ones who are left to do it, then it must be we who do it.”

  “Thank you so much, Hona. I appreciate your help. In that case, here's the plan. I need at least one other person to come north with me, to vouch for what I say. Best of all it would be someone who was an Immortal from the beginning, who could describe everything first hand. We could bring a supply of the immortality enzyme and that way there'd be no risk to that individual's survival.”

  Suddenly again there was silence around the table, so deep each one could hear the other's breathing. The thought of a return to the North had been, up to this point, literally unthinkable. Now it burst like a bomb into the range of possibility. Forgiving the past had been liberating, joyful, but this was fierce and real and beyond anything they had foreseen. They imagined the bitter cold and the hardship and their spirits buckled before the thought.

  Again the portrait at the end of the room smirked knowingly.

  At last it was Colette who answered, and in an entirely unexpected way. “You ask the impossible, Palmiro, but, you know what? It's perhaps time for that. I've got a sneaking feeling even the possible is no longer enough. How long before this disease catches up with all us oldies anyway? At some point it could get into the water, and what will that do, eh, Mr. Adorno's Apprentice?”

  Palmiro nodded with a rueful expression. “You could be right, Colette. It's possible the organism would survive if it gets into the water supply. Younger people, like me, or Charlize, or Hona, don't have anything to worry about, but...” and he trailed off.

  Colette nodded, grimly mirroring Palmiro. “So, yes, there it is. Unless we are chronologically young, our days are numbered anyway. So here's what I'm thinking. I and all the philosophers, we flirted with freedom for hundreds of years, but always up in our heads. We used to talk about the timelessness of our existence allowing us an infinity of choice. Yet there was really never anything to choose, just more of the same. That is why we idolized Sarobindo because he gave us the semblance of true choice. Now the choice you set me is real. I have to choose, and everything has become possible because of that, even the impossible. Palmiro, you have given me the greatest gift, one I do not want to lose. If I decide to stay here then I must continue in a life that provides everything and promises nothing, or more likely I will die like Zeno blathering clichés. If I choose to come with you then everything is...real again. And so I do chose. I will be your witness, Palmiro.”

  Everyone was dumbstruck, but Jonas especially. He had some idea of what she was saying and it amounted to a philosophical rejection of Heaven. Instead she was opting for the Northern Homeland as the place of meaning. He gazed around at the paintings on the walls, locked in Adorno's dead world and even they seemed to receive a shock of life from Colette's decision. The fresco at the end particularly seemed to glow, its image of a shared meal almost leaning out and joining the company at the table below.

  Saiorse leaned over and took Colette's hand. “After a speech like that how could anyone not love you madly? I for one couldn't! And I could not bear to be separated from you for one instant. I want to come too, Palmiro.”

  Charlize blinked incredulously. People were lining up to go to the most wretched place on earth. But she also understood why. Everything had changed. And the truth was she had too. She hardly believed her own voice as she spoke, “I can’t believe I'm saying this but I don't think I can be left out. They'll be just as surprised to see me as you guys. I am a key witness in the chain because I left the TEPs just before Palmiro and they all know me.”

  Jonas cried in amazement. “Looks like you've got your ship's complement, Palmiro. I'm afraid I'm going to have to resist the urge to join you all. I've realized I have some real history to write for a change and I need to put pen to paper. Also I need to keep Danny and Eboni up to date on what's happened.”

  Stavros concurred, a little sheepishly. “Yes, I think I should go check on them, too. I don't think the North is for me, I can do much more good here. Anyway, there's no more room in the shuttle!”

  Palmiro looked over at Hona. “How long to get the rocket prepared?”

  “Oh, I don't know. A few days. It's been some time since I went to the port and the hangers. I'll start tomorrow and you should come with me. We'll have to load the fuel pods, and boot up the link to the landing station at the other end, and check the computer guidance.”

  “For sure. Sounds like fun! Meanwhile everyone can live here at the mansion until we're ready. Jonas, I look forward to your book, but I have no idea how you'll pub
lish it!”

  They all laughed and looked around at each other as they did. Colette said, “I want to remember this, this very moment. It will never happen again, just like this. I want it to stay with us always. She raised her glass but there was nothing in it. Stavros grasped the one bottle left and emptied the last of the wine in splashes to everyone's cup. “To now and the future!” he offered.

  For the last time they echoed, “To now and the future!”

  12. END OF TIME

  Four days later the shuttle's incandescent flare streaked north-eastward over the Homeland of Heaven, carrying Colette, Saiorse, Charlize and Palmiro to an unknown future. Together with Hona, the group of witnesses had spent the time getting the craft and themselves ready for the journey. They had to find therm-suits to fit them, along with thermal underwear, boots and gloves. They were told to select the few personal items it would be possible to carry in the shuttle, mementos, books, cosmetics, a bottle of wine.

  The Shuttle Port was a vast rambling facility just to the north and west of the Baths and Agora. As well as command and control centers, with satellite links and computer monitoring, there were miles of equipment sheds, electrical and engineering installations, and sophisticated assembly and machine shops. Towering over everything were several hangers containing at least a dozen shuttles or rocket vehicles. Close by were giant tractors to transport them to launch aprons or onto an enormous take-off ramp lunging at a vertiginous angle into the sky. It was from this ramp that their shuttle would depart. Under Hona's direction they moved the craft slowly into place at its base. Once they had it raised in position they began the fueling. The process required filling the required number of fuel pods and inserting them carefully in the shuttle while keeping them cooled with refrigeration lines.

  The fuel was produced as needed from an array of storage tanks and mixers, then condensed and pumped at high pressure into the pods. While they were filling and loading the pods, Hona booted up the satellite link to the Northern Shuttle Port. She tested its remote guidance, reviewed it visually on the monitors, and ran through a virtual re-entry and landing. She did the checks on the shuttle they would use, carefully testing all the systems that Pascale and Palmiro had breezed through simply by clicking “O.K.” This time everything was done with scientific precision.

  Palmiro found a couple of old laptop computers with images of Heaven in its heyday. He felt they would be important as added evidence and managed to find space for them on board. As the take-off drew closer the memory of the Northern Homeland forcibly returned to him and also to Charlize. Images of the Training Centers, Worship Centers, TEPs and Bubbles came flooding back and the claustrophobic feeling of their little existence pressed in on them. They had to remind themselves continually of the dramatic new horizon they would bring with them, and only then were they able to renew their sense of purpose and commitment. For Charlize it was the thought of seeing Esh again which especially consoled her.

  Colette was also experiencing an attack of second thoughts. Was she out of her mind? How could she possibly survive the conditions of the North for which she had zero preparation? Still, she could not let them get the better of her: she had spent hundreds of years play-acting as philosopher and now for the first time everything was real. To her own surprise she encouraged herself with the thought of Pascale and the unbelievable courage she had shown. At least the frozen north did not threaten to vaporize her in an instant. As for Saoirse, wherever Colette went she would go too. She also told herself they would be part of a new history and Jonas would be writing it. Epic tales enchanted her; to be part of one in the making fulfilled her dearest wish. Finally, all four found strength and encouragement from the fact they were doing this together.

  Meanwhile, Jonas was preoccupied in a very different way. He had felt no inclination to join Palmiro on the mission to the North, partly because Colette had volunteered and he was sure she had as much authority to tell the story of Heaven as he did. But it was deeper than that. All during the meal at Adorno's mansion there had been something nagging at him, something personal which had very little to do with the question of Palmiro and the future. Earlier, on the journey with Stavros, just before they had all turned north off the Appian Way, he had felt a powerful urge to keep going to where the highway terminated at the ancient Baths and the Shuttle Port. He remembered with vivid clarity his first encounter there with Pascale, how it had set in motion the whole sequence of events leading to this very point. He felt so strongly that he wanted to go back, to recapture that first moment and think about everything that had followed. It was a need to touch all the memories one by one, to pay attention to them like living things, and then perhaps to understand.

  Afterward, when the meal had begun, he had been seriously distracted by the presence of the paintings around the table. They simply exacerbated the desire to return to the Baths and the feeling only got stronger as the evening wore on. Perhaps because the images represented the old world and its history and they were calling out and insisting he look to his own history. By the end of the evening it was almost as if the paintings were ordering him to return to the Baths.

  The next morning he excused himself, saying he was going out riding. Without explaining further, he saddled up and headed west toward the Agora. The weather had returned to its normal Heavenly state and he traveled under a perfect sky and a high, dazzling sun. It was toward midday when he entered the lush precincts fronting the ancient building. As he led his horse forward he saw the rain from the previous days had stripped much of the flower blossom and all along the central pergola there were pools and puddles on the ground. On every side the silk cushions which had never known rain or damp were sodden and stained and the drapes were fallen or hanging limp.

  It was a strange, disquieting experience to view what was clearly the end of Heaven. He saw no corpses but there was the constant hint of their presence, and at one point he was certain he heard the scuffling and snarling of dogs behind the arbors. It gripped him with fear and he quickened his pace. The whole thing gave off a feeling of complete devastation, like the sack of an ancient city and the slaughter of its citizens. But the sensation did not change his wish to be there. The tugging inside him continued and pulled him forward.

  He passed through the Agora and came to the Baths with their glistening portico. He tied his horse to the final gate and crossed the small plaza, ascending the steps to the great entrance. He pulled back one of the doors and peered in. He could see the beginning of the baths across the threshold and got a vague sense of the walls and shape of the interior. He needed more light so he released the door and returned to the Agora. In the first courtyard garden he cast around for suitable stones to wedge beneath the doors to hold them ajar. After he gathered a handful he went back and hauled back the doors one by one, banging stones under their bases to hold them open. The light poured in across the marble floor and down through the recesses of the building.

  He moved inside, cautiously skirting the pools, looking around at a building that before he had always experienced shrouded in the flames and shadows of an intense ritual. As he moved toward the back and his eyes got used to the dim light something caught his eye in the upper space of the building, something he'd never seen before in all the centuries of coming there. It was a small gallery running round the sides close to the level of the roof. Perhaps it was some kind of viewing platform that had been forgotten about soon after construction. He was certain there was no access inside the building. If the access were somewhere unnoticed on the outside that would explain why it had been overlooked.

  He went back outside to his horse and rode it out of the Agora onto the track which led down the southern side of the Baths, all the while looking for an external door that might lead to the gallery. He saw nothing. When he got to the enclosed courtyard at the end, he dismounted, opened the gate and went in. The tables and chairs were still in the same places they'd been when Emmanuelle led the final part of the Initiation ceremony, when h
e’d taken the role of Pascale’s sponsor.

  He sat down and closed his eyes, recreating the scene in his mind's eye. He saw Emmanuelle in full sail addressing the newcomers, working the crowd. He saw Palmiro with Adorno and he understood that a decision had already been made in Adorno's soul and probably in Palmiro's too. He reflected how all that had now run its course and Palmiro had changed dramatically. He claimed to have seen Pascale, and it had affected him deeply. Did that mean, in fact, he had become Pascale's partner in some kind of way? Jonas felt a pang of grief so sharp it made him open his eyes. Even as he opened them he remembered Palmiro also said that he, Jonas, would see her too. Almost immediately the jealousy left him and he was half expecting to see her there in that sandy courtyard. All was still the same, the stone walls and the tamarix tree and his horse waiting patiently by the gate. Yet the tugging in his heart was greater than ever, almost to the point of being painful itself.

  He got up and remounted his horse, taking it through the gate and nosing it round to the north of the building. Here there was a forgotten cluster of cypress and pinyon pines for shade and it was hard to make a way through. Clearly no one bothered to prune the trees, and it had become a dense stand sheltering the ancient building. But he persevered and forcing his way through he was rewarded. There in front of him was a steep wooden staircase, almost a ladder, leading up the side of the building to a platform and a door. Staring up at it the thought came to him of what he should do and at once he felt much better. He turned the horse around, heading out of the wood and back to the mansion.