10 Billion Days & 100 Billion Nights

by Ryu Mitsuse

  Who was that talking? And why did it feel as though the weight of the world hung in their words?

  Judas crawled up a steep ridge, then ran again. True darkness had returned to the hill around him. The memory of the distant voices filled his mind, feeling far more important than the miracle Jesus had wrought.

  He had no way of knowing how long the darkness would continue—indeed, it might never end. It might actually have been a punishment from Heaven. The conversation he’d overheard, on the other hand, was certainly not divine. Judas felt himself standing at the juncture of two worlds.

  He saw a line of torches, wavering in the distance.

  Before he had time to catch his breath, Judas found himself thrown from the rocky ledge on which he stood, hurled out into empty space. A vast amount of dirt and rock crumbled behind him, following him into the void. The thought came to him that he should reach out to grasp something—anything—but quicker than he could act, his consciousness was lost to the depths of darkness.

  The darkness that fell upon the hill of Golgotha that day began around eleven o’clock in the morning and continued until about two o’clock in the afternoon. According to ancient records from the region, this day fell on the third month of the nineteenth year of the reign of the Emperor Tiberius. It was the seventh day before the first of the fourth month, fourteen nights after the new moon. It was also noted that this was the seventy-ninth year by Antiochus’s reckoning, since Sulpicius and Sulla tangled in Rome, and Casius, Prefect of Syria, was designated the new commander of the region of Jerusalem by the emperor.

  Though the veracity of this report is a matter of debate, it has often been quoted as fact. It is important to note, however, that there was no Prefect of Syria named Casius. It is also true that there are no other examples of the emissary of Rome to Jerusalem simultaneously holding office as Prefect of Syria. This was primarily for military reasons—the road that led from the port of Acre on the Mediterranean overland through Nazareth and on into the Jordan River Valley, which then passed through Ha-arava, through Petra and Al Lejjun and on to Aqaba on the Red Sea, was a trading route far too important to be left in the hands of a single official. It was common practice for three commanders, one in Jerusalem, one in Syria, and one in Aqaba, to divide administration of the road between them. This fact alone is sufficient to cast considerable doubt on the reliability of these records.

  There is, however, reason to believe that the Roman Empire willfully removed all mention of the darkness at Golgotha from the public record, claiming that the occurrence was no more than a legend and therefore unworthy of official recognition—motivated, perhaps, by a wish to eliminate any suggestion of misgovernment in Jerusalem.

  On the third day of the fourth month in the thirty-third year of the Julian Calendar, the entire region around Jerusalem experienced three hours of darkness in the middle of the day, centered on Golgotha. Historical astronomical analysis shows that at no time in the weeks around that date did the Middle East experience even a partial solar eclipse.

  Years later, a historical theologian would claim that the stories of that day were, in fact, accounts of a lunar eclipse that occurred on the fifteenth of Nisan, tales that had become twisted over time. However, the darkness upon Golgotha is said to have occurred while Jesus still writhed in pain upon the cross—early in the day, not during the night.

  There is more.

  In Revelation 4:6–7, it is written:

  And before the throne there was a sea of glass like unto crystal: and in the midst of the throne, and round about the throne, were four beasts full of eyes before and behind. And the first beast was like a lion, and the second beast like a calf, and the third beast had a face as a man, and the fourth beast was like a flying eagle.

  It is thought that these hallucinations symbolizing the four apostles came as a vision, yet who can say what Saint John, Saint Mark, Saint Luke, and Saint Matthew truly saw that day?

  According to the accounts of one Roman centurion, from that day forth, there were none in Jerusalem who laid eyes upon the man Judas Iscariot. Nor was Judas’s body found among the dozens who fell from the cliffs that day in the darkness.

  Thus did Jerusalem’s most devastating day come to an end.

  Standing at the shores of the dead, I ask:

  To where does one return?

  Z aaa . . . Zaaaaaa . . .

  Zaaa . . . Zaaaaaa . . .

  He focused his gradually expanding awareness on the noise—a simple two-phrase structure, regularly repeated. Already it echoed within him, filling him, pleasantly stimulating the nerve endings of his as-yet unhardened form. Something inside him was changing dramatically, something new becoming something even newer. The rich ripple of sound raised all of his metabolic functions to their limits. As he gave himself over to the experience, something deep within him ruptured with an audible pop.

  At the same moment, the lid of the pod flew outward. A massive rush of air bubbles erupted from the circular porthole. The tiny spheres glowed with a silver sheen in the deep indigo of the water, rising steadily toward the surface. The pod was firmly wedged between two shelves of rock, yet it shook so violently that it seemed for a moment as if it might break free.

  When the shuddering subsided he considered his surroundings. All of the machinery inside the pod that had supported his life until now had ceased to function, its work complete. The silvery needles, the air pumps, the circulators, were all unneeded now. They hung limply from the interior walls.

  He slid out from beneath the framework of metal pipes where his body had been held like an astronaut in a G-seat. A single, dim orange lamp lit the pod’s interior, revealing features that would not have seemed out of place in a sophisticated spacecraft.

  A dull pain throbbed deep inside his head, keeping time with the beating of waves against a distant shore. He flailed with ungainly limbs and made his way out of the structure that had sheltered him for so long. The water was surprisingly cold, and he struggled against the temptation to retreat back inside the pod. With every breath he took, a swarm of air bubbles escaped from beneath his jaw, racing upward and obscuring his vision. Far above, slanted light that was neither blue nor gray penetrated the veil of the water. It occurred to him that such dim light wouldn’t be able to warm this ocean.

  The water was ice cold, as heavy and hard as steel, and filled with an inorganic cruelty that seemed to abhor life. It took him an incredible amount of energy and willpower just to move forward.

  Suddenly, something pierced his mind like a fiery hot needle. The force of the psychic impact made his body go as rigid as stone.

  To the land! Out of the water, onto the land!

  The voice tore through his mind, reverberating under his skin, echoing back down into his core.

  Onto the land? Whatever for? What is “the land,” anyway?

  Words crisscrossed through his mind, illuminating the web of his memory from the inside, flashing like half-seen lightning. Within the folds of his brain, complex signals and combinations of meaning became apparent—yet he was not given the time to confirm each one, to explore or compare.

  He raised his roundish head, pushing against the weight of the water, blind to and yet still aware of the unknown territories that existed beyond the unreal blue that surrounded him. And still he heard the ceaseless echoes of the waves surging and receding.

  Now go! Onto the land! Go forth, and quickly!

  The voice again, goading him on from behind. Ahead of him stretched a blue crevasse. He paddled through the water unconsciously, slowly drifting out over the depths. He found that his body did not move as reliably as he wanted. A place in his head was hurting—deep in his inner ears. The pain made him realize that he was swimming downward now; he had already sunk halfway down the crevasse. The pain increased, bringing him fully to his senses. Every nerve in his body screeched with alarm, and the muscles in his four limbs spasmed like springs.

  Facing upward now, he pushed with all his strength t
o regain the altitude he’d lost. Gradually he advanced at a rising pitch, seeing the vast underwater valley recede far below.

  At last the surface became visible above. He rose until his head broke through the water, and he took his first, deep breath, his lungs expanding like parachutes. The ionized air had a strong, sharp smell. Its acidity burned his nostrils and his throat and made his eyelids swell nearly shut. His eyes, narrowed to thin slivers, gave off a blue luminescence.

  He made his way through a shoal where waves broke against the rocks, spray misting around his head. His round face bobbed along on the surface of the dark water, unable to leave it very easily, or for very long.

  The land was low and flat, barely higher than the ocean’s surface. The wind wailed incessantly around him. The sky was painted a solid gray, varying only in degrees of gloom. Beneath its canopy, it was impossible to see where the sun might be, whether it was noon, or evening.

  Feet still soaking in the water, he looked out over vast, barren flats. He saw no signs of life. He left the water then, stepped across the wet sand, and headed for the plains that stretched beyond the beach. The wind blew from behind him, whipping past, racing ahead of him far off across the flats. The line of white that stretched between the gray sea and the light brown of the flats, jagged as a broken potsherd, stretched off into nothingness like the line separating life from death. The land beyond seemed strangely featureless, its slight slope almost imperceptible.

  Then something caught his eye far off to his left, floating like a mirage. He moved toward it, peering through the stinging air.

  Slowly it came into view: a giant walled city, with pointed spires that rose thick as a forest, their tips lost in the low hanging sky. The gray curtain walls that surrounded it, rising from massive foundations, formed a distinctly geometrical pattern, contrasting starkly with the entirely alien sensibility of the complex vertical lines traced by the spires above them.

  The city was very far away. For a while, he stood motionless, gazing at it. Gradually, cold fear grew within him. He looked around several times, hoping to find a different goal or direction for which to aim. Primal fear was robbing him of his basic intellectual capacity. Yet in the end, he could find nowhere else to go but toward the city. That, it seemed, was to be his destination.

  The sand grew drier the farther he went from the water, until it rose in fine particles like smoke from beneath his feet. Flowing traces had been left on the surface of the land where the waves had once pushed the sand, the spray from long-dried crests frozen into beautiful shapes and curves.

  He was surprised when he came to a place where the sand sloped gently upward into a low hill. At the top of this rise, he could see far across the flats in every direction. As he gazed ahead, a violent expression spread across his face and the light of his eyes grew dimmer.

  Midway down the other side of the hill, a wide belt of dirty white-colored material covered the ground, extending for a considerable distance before disappearing again into the sea of sand. Beyond, it appeared again, weaving in and out of the sand over and over before reaching the walled city.

  He quickened his pace, going down the hill to where the pale swath began. Beneath his feet, the crumbling sand transitioned into a firm, rocklike surface.

  He was standing on an immensely wide concrete road. With every gust of wind, thin sheets of sand swept across its flat surface. He wondered where the road came from and where it led. He imagined land vehicles traveling along it and people walking to and fro. Now it lay forgotten, the wind its only traveler, none but the quiet sand seeking passage. Everything else around him—the land and the sky, and even the leaden sea he had left behind—was barren, the kind of barrenness from which no life could ever hope to revive.

  Why?

  How did this happen?

  How did I come to be in this place?

  The doubt and confusion that had receded from his newly wakened mind a short while ago now returned with increased urgency, and he had to fight to pull himself back from the abyss of fear.

  At last he pressed on down the slope and entered a wide, shallow valley that ran parallel to the shore, forming a broad band of lowland between the ocean and the strange walled city.

  He had never seen a valley like it before. He walked along the bottom for some time, moving slowly. The blowing sand had filled the depression of the valley to half of its original depth. Before him and behind him, sand trickled soundlessly down the sloping sides.

  Suddenly, a sensation spread like lightning through his chest—a signal warning of approaching danger. For a moment he stopped, taking stock of his situation. It was clear that somewhere in this valley, somewhere in this wasteland, an enemy was lurking. It was also suddenly clear, as he watched the sand sift into the valley, that it would not be long before the lowland was completely filled, which meant that it had not existed for very long.

  He paused again, still as a stone. Ahead of him, the valley ended at a tall mound of sand. The wind that blew down the valley collided with the mound, whirling up its slope, whistling as it rose. In silhouette the mound formed a mighty arc, and from its very center a complicated framework of some kind extended upward a considerable distance.

  Slowly, he approached the base of the mound.

  Two large cylinders emerged at an angle from the sand, extending down into the ground as though supporting the sandy mass above them.

  It was now apparent that what he had at first thought was a mound of sand was instead a domed object nearly one hundred meters in height. He guessed that it was actually a sphere, half of which was buried beneath the drifts. Though it might have once been burnished to a mirrored finish, it was now scorched and pitted like a sand-scoured boulder.

  He stared at it for a long time, understanding intuitively what this looming object was: a massive spacecraft.

  The long, shallow valley through which he had just walked was the path the huge craft had left in the earth as it slid to a fiery stop upon landing.

  He approached until he was standing in the shadow of the spacecraft’s hull, the gray curve hanging over him like a part of the sky.

  An icy chill came over him—my enemy is here!

  His enemy had known he would be coming and had sent searchers all the way here to find him. The immediacy of the threat only proved his enemy’s power.

  So where is my enemy now?

  He steadied his breathing, trying to hold back the chill that spread through his heart.

  My enemy—

  My enemy—

  Then, suddenly, he shook his head and let his shoulders drop. The breath left his chest and he looked around furtively, like a timid beast.

  What is an enemy?

  Why do I fear this?

  He worried that he might be going mad. Everything he had experienced since awakening ran together, blurring incomprehensibly. He sensed that he had been asleep for a very long time, yet he remembered nothing of the time before he slept. Yet something was now pushing him toward the walled city that sat like a shadow at the edge of the vast flats. This he knew with a disturbing clarity at the core of his being. He turned dark eyes out across the spreading sea of sand, yet found nothing there to console him.

  What did I expect? he asked himself.

  If I want to go to the city it must be because I am meant to go there. And if I sense an enemy it must mean my enemy is near.

  Something was telling him these things, giving him information—controlling him with suggestions that were difficult to resist. He searched the gray lands and sky, his heart closed tightly as rock.

  Where is this place? When is this place?

  There was so much he wanted to know, yet nothing offered any answers. Again, an icy chill spread from his spine through his chest. It was soundless, painless, and faded in an instant, leaving only an awareness of impending peril in its wake.

  He began to move again, slowly, staggering.

  First, he would find his enemy’s whereabouts. His sense of danger
had grown considerably. He looked around for something that might reveal to him his enemy’s form.

  He moved along the perimeter of the giant spacecraft, crawling up the sandy incline. It was difficult going, and he did not learn much. The damage to the ship was more widespread than he had first thought, and in places the hull had collapsed entirely. He found nothing resembling symbols or numbers upon its surface.

  He returned again to the flats. Far back along the way he’d come, he saw the thin white line of the waves crashing against the rocky shore. Beyond that, the gray of the sea seemed fused with the sky, making it difficult for him to distinguish one from the other. In the other direction the horizon faded in the distance, with nothing to draw his attention but the city whose walls hovered like a mirage over the sand. Still nothing moved, and there was no sound but the wind.

  He wondered if his enemy was hiding inside the spacecraft, or was watching him, lurking somewhere out across the flats. He strained his senses, focusing them until they were needle-sharp, trying to draw something out from beneath the discordant whine of the wind.

  His eyes flashed with a blue light.

  Keeping close to the massive hull, he made another circuit of the spacecraft. At the tip of its egg-shaped form, just above where it emerged from the sand at the top of the slope, he saw an oval hatch. It was open. The hatch lid had been folded to one side by a mechanism he did not understand; it hung from the hull like a dislodged fragment of eggshell.

  The hatch hadn’t been open when he circled the spacecraft before, which meant that either something inside was trying to get out, or it had already managed to escape while he wasn’t watching.

  It is neither of these things!

  He ignored the voice in his head as he carefully edged up the slope, nearer to the hatch. It didn’t make sense that something would have lingered inside the weathered spacecraft, waiting for him to arrive. Who could have known that he would be passing by here at this very moment?