He took a pear and handed it to me. I took it and began eating. So did everyone at the table.
I looked at the table: there was no meat, no fish, no eggs, no milk. No bread. But there were different fruits — tons of them. Not only pears — watermelon, cantaloupes and other melons, tomatoes, different kinds of cucumbers, apples, even cherries! And many, many more fruits that I had never seen.
Everyone ate with their hands. No knives, forks, or spoons were to be seen.
I looked at the cantaloupe — I’d never eaten it, only seen it at the market. One man noticed me looking at it, so he took the largest melon. He pulled over a sort of sharp rock. He swung back and — crack went the stone against the cantaloupe! It spurted all over and pieces went flying all around! Everyone smiled. He picked a piece out and handed it to me. Then he gave the rest to the others. I tasted cantaloupe for the first time. It was scrumptious!
Then I ate strawberries, sweet peppers, and three other kinds of fruits. I stuffed myself with cherries.
They all ate, rose, and each went his own way.
The old man Bro came over to me. He took me by the elbow and led me to a little room. It was full of books. He sat me down at a small table and took a seat across from me. He said, “Khram, what are you feeling?”
I said, “My chest aches a little bit.”
“And what else?”
“Well,” I said, “I don’t know...it’s hard to say...”
“Do you feel good with us?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Has your heart felt good?”
“Very,” I answered. “I have never felt this good.”
He looked at me with a smile and said, “There are very few people like us. Only one hundred fifty-three on earth.”
I said, “Why is that?”
“Because,” he said, “we aren’t like everyone else. We know how to speak not only with our mouths but with our hearts. Other humans speak only with the mouth. Their hearts will never speak.”
“Why?”
“Because they are living corpses. The absolute majority of people on this earth are walking dead. They are born dead, they marry the dead, they give birth to the dead, and die; their dead children give birth to new dead — and so on, from century to century. That is the circle of their dead lives. There is no way out. But we are alive, we are the chosen. We know what the language of the heart is, the language we have already spoken to you. And we know what love is. Genuine Divine Love.”
“What is love?”
“For hundreds of millions of dead people, love — is nothing but lust, the thirst to possess another’s body. For them, it all boils down to one thing: a man sees a woman, she pleases him. He doesn’t know her heart at all, but her face, figure, walk, and laughter attract him. He wants to see this woman, be with her, touch her. And that’s when the illness called ‘earthly love’ begins: the man seeks to acquire the woman, he gives her gifts, courts her, swears his love, promises to love her and no one else. She begins to take some interest in him, then she feels sympathy for him, then she starts to think that this is the very person she’s been waiting for. Finally they become so close that they are ready to commit the so-called ‘act of love.’ Hiding away in a bedroom, they undress and lie down on the bed. The man kisses the woman, plays with her breasts; he falls on top of her, thrusts his member in her, pants and groans. She moans, at first from pain, then from lust. The man ejects his seed into the woman’s womb. And they fall asleep in sweat, emptied and exhausted. Then they begin to live together, they have children. The passion gradually leaves them. They turn into machines: he makes money, she cooks and cleans. Sometimes they live like this until their very death. Or they fall in love with others. They separate and recall the past with anger. They swear loyalty to their newly chosen man or woman. They start a new family, have new children. And again they become machines. This disease is called earthly love. For us this is the greatest evil. Because we, the chosen ones, know an entirely different love. It is as large as the sky, and as sublime as the Primordial Light. It is not based on external attraction. It is deep and strong. You, Khram, have felt a small dose of this love. You have barely touched it. It was but the first ray of the great Sun that touched your heart. The Sun called the Divine Love of Light.”
I wanted to ask him something, but he suddenly reached his hand out to me and took my hands in his. I didn’t even have time to speak; he closed his eyes. He seemed to be asleep.
Suddenly, my heart felt — ping.
And just like that time on the train, everything swam. Only this was stronger. Like I dove headfirst into a whirlpool — I saw stars. It was as though he’d shot me in the heart.
Then something entirely different began. I felt that he was leading my heart step by step up a staircase. It beat against every step. But each time it beat in a different way, each step was completely different, made of some entirely different material.
It was so sweet and terrifying that I just died of happiness.
He kept dragging my little heart along.
Higher and higher.
It was sweeter and sweeter.
And then — that was it! The last step. The sweetest of all.
And I suddenly understood with my heart that there were only 23 of these steps.
But I hadn’t counted them. I just understood with my heart.
Then he stopped. And I — was just sitting there, as I had been. Everything was swimming around me, but my heart was burning like a flame. I couldn’t talk.
Then he said to me, “Just now I spoke to you in the language of the heart. Previously, everyone spoke only a few words to you with the heart. There are only twenty-three heart words in all. I spoke them all to you. Now you know them all.”
I just sat there — I felt so good, I couldn’t move. I’d never felt so wonderful in my life. I suddenly understood everything, I began to sob so hard that I was convulsed; I fell down on the floor and howled and wailed and sobbed. Bro got up, patted my head, and said, “Cry, Sister.”
I wept. I wept like I’d never wept in my life: my whole insides were turned out.
He called some others over to carry me into the bedroom. I was writhing like an eel in their arms, and tears were spurting out of my eyes!
In the bedroom they undressed me and put me in bed. But I was sobbing so hard I couldn’t stop. I’d go numb, numb all over until I couldn’t feel anything, as though I was just about to die. And then I’d come to — where was I? I’d lie flat on my back in bed. As soon as I’d come around just a little — the tears would start again. And I’d work myself up till I was writhing again. Then I’d howl and weep until I lost consciousness.
I wept this way for seven days.
Then I came to. I lay there a bit. I no longer felt like crying. My heart was at peace. It was glorious! So calm and wonderful. But I was so weak that I couldn’t move a finger. I lay there looking out the window. Outside I could see fir trees in the snow. Those firs were so glorious and well proportioned. The snow lay on them and sparkled in the sunshine.
I don’t know how long I lay there.
Then a woman came in. She brought me something to drink. I drank.
The old man, Bro, came in. He sat on my bed and held my hand. He said, “Everything’s behind you, Khram. Your heart cried from shame at your past life. That is normal. It has happened to each one of us. Henceforth, you will never cry again. You will delight and be joyful. Joyful that you are alive.”
And my new life began.
Can I tell the whole story? Of course not. Memory captures only bright and dear moments. But my new life consisted entirely of bright, dear moments.
I spent three years in our Home in the Austrian Alps. Then, when the war came to the mountains as well, we left our Home and made our way to Finland. There, in the forest, on a lake, another Home awaited us. I spent another four years there.
I remember everything: the faces of sisters and brothers, their voices, their eyes, and their hearts, whic
h taught my heart the sacred words.
I remember...
New blue-eyed, fair-haired people appeared, people whose hearts had been awakened by the ax of Ice; they merged into our brotherhood, came to know the joy of awakening, wept tears of heartfelt remorse, discovered the divine language of hearts, and replaced the experienced and mature, those who had already learned all 23 words.
Finally a fateful day arrived for me: July 6, 1950.
I rose with the sun, like the other brothers and sisters. Walking out into the meadow in front of the house, we stood in pairs, as always; we embraced and fell to our knees. Our hearts began to speak the sacred language. This continued for several hours. Then we released our embraces. We returned to the house, readied ourselves, and shared our meal.
After our repast, Bro took me aside. He said, “Khram, today you will leave our brotherhood. You will go to Russia. And you will search for the living among the dead. In order to awaken them and return them to life. You have traveled a long road with us. You have mastered the language of the heart. You have learned all 23 three heart words. You are ready to serve our greater goal. I will tell you what you need to know. This tradition lives only on the lips, it does not exist on paper. Listen carefully: In the beginning there was only the Light. And the Light shone in Absolute Emptiness. The Light shone for Itself Alone. The Light consisted of 23,000 Light-bearing rays. And we were those rays. Time did not exist. There was only Eternity. In this Eternal Emptiness we shone. And we birthed whole worlds. The worlds filled the Emptiness. Thus was the Universe born. Each time we wanted to create a new world, we formed a Divine Circle of Light from 23,000 rays. All the rays were directed inside the circle, and after 23 impulses in the center of the circle a new world would be born. These were the stars, planets, and galaxies. Once, when we created a new world, one of its seven planets was covered with water. This was the planet Earth. We had never created such planets before. This was the Light’s Great Mistake. For the water on the planet Earth formed a sphere-shaped mirror. As soon as we were reflected in it, we ceased being rays of light and were incarnated in living creatures. We became primitive amoebas that inhabited the boundless ocean. The water carried our tiny, semitransparent bodies, but as before, the Primordial Light lived in us. And as before there were 23,000 of us. But we were scattered across the ocean expanses. Billions of earthly years passed. We evolved together with the other creatures that inhabit the Earth. We became human beings. People multiplied and covered the Earth. They began to live by their minds, enslaving themselves to their flesh. Their lips spoke in the language of the mind, and this language covered the entire visible world like a membrane. People ceased seeing things. They began to think them. Blind and heartless, they became more and more cruel. They created weapons and machines. They killed and birthed, birthed and killed. They turned into walking corpses. Because human beings were our mistake. As was everything living on Earth. And Earth became hell. And we, the dispersed, lived in this hell. We died and were incarnated again, without the strength to tear ourselves away from the Earth that we ourselves had created. As ever, there were 23,000 of us. The Primordial Light lived in our hearts. But our hearts slept, as do billions of human hearts. What could awake them, so that we might understand who we were and what we should do? All the worlds we created before Earth were dead. They hung in the Emptiness like Christmas ornaments, to give us joy. The joy of the Primordial Light sang in them. Only the Earth violated this Cosmic Harmony. For it was alive and developing on its own. It developed like an ugly, cancerous tumor. But the Cosmic Harmony cannot be violated for long. A piece of one of the tree ornaments we created fell to the Earth. This was one of the largest meteors ever. And it happened in 1908, in Siberia, near the river. The meteorite was called the Tungus Event. In 1927 a group of learned people formed an expedition to locate it. They arrived at the place, saw the destroyed forests, but they did not find the meteorite. There were fifteen people on this expedition. Among them was one twenty-year-old student, a tow-headed lad with blue eyes. Arriving at the site of the meteorite’s landing, he experienced a strange feeling, one that he had never felt before: his heart began to tremble and quiver. As soon as this happened, he fell silent. He stopped conversing with the other members of the expedition. He felt with his heart that the meteorite was somewhere nearby. The energy exuding from the meteorite stunned the youth. In two days that energy turned his life around. The members of the expedition thought that he had gone mad. The expedition left empty-handed. He fell behind. Then he returned to the place where it fell. And he found the meteorite. It was a huge chunk of Ice. It had sunk into swampy soil, the putrid water had closed over it, hiding it from humans. The youth plunged into the swamp, slipped, and hit his chest hard against the Ice. Suddenly, his heart began to speak. He understood everything. He broke off a piece of the Ice, put it in his rucksack, and went out among people. The Ice was heavy, it was difficult to walk. The Ice melted. When he arrived at the nearest village, only a small piece of the Ice remained, one that fit in the palm of his hand. In the village, he found a girl sleeping in a yurt. She was tow-headed, and her blue eyes were half open. He picked up a stick from the ground, tied the piece of Ice to it with a shoelace, and struck the girl with the Ice hammer in the chest with all his might. The girl cried out and lost consciousness. He lay down near her and fell asleep. When he woke up, she was sitting nearby and looking at him like a brother. They embraced. Their hearts began speaking to each other. They understood everything. They set off to look for more of their kind.”
He was silent for a moment and then added: “I was that youth.”
Then Bro continued.
“I have never spoken with you about the goals of our brotherhood. Each of us who fully commands the language of the heart feels them. You are close to this. But we don’t have time to wait, for you must leave for Russia as soon as possible, to search for our brothers and sisters there, for those who don’t belong to the hellish world, for those in whose hearts the memory of the Light still lives.”
He fell silent, and gazed at me.
“What must I do?” I asked.
“You must sift through the human race. Look for the gold in the sand. There are 23,000 of us. No more and no fewer. We are blue-eyed and fair-haired. As soon as all 23,000 are found, as soon as all know the language of the heart, we will stand in a ring and our hearts will pronounce the 23 heart words in unison. And in the center of the ring the Primordial Light will arise, the very light that created the worlds. And the mistake will be corrected: Earth will disappear, dissolve in the Light. Our earthly bodies will dissolve together with the world of the Earth. Once again we will become rays of the Primordial Light. We will return to Eternity.”
Bro had barely finished speaking when there was a movement in my heart. I FELT everything that he had told me in earthly language. I saw us standing in a circle, holding hands and speaking the heart words.
Bro felt this and he smiled.
“Now, Khram, you know everything.”
I was stunned. But one question tormented me.
“What is the Ice?”
“It is an ideal Cosmic substance generated by the Primordial Light. Outwardly it resembles earthly ice. In fact, however, its structure is entirely different. If it is shaken, the Music of the Light sings in it. In striking our breastbone, the Ice vibrates. These vibrations awaken our hearts.”
He said it, and I immediately felt what he was saying. And I understood what ICE was.
“Three of our brothers are in Russia,” Bro continued. “They will help you. And together you will accomplish great feats. Commence, Khram.”
Thus began the return to my homeland.
The next morning near Lake Inari I crossed the border into the USSR. A passenger car was waiting for me in the forest. Two men in KGB officer uniforms sat in it. One of them silently opened the door of the car, and I got in. We drove off, first along a forest road, then a highway. We traveled in silence. We were stopped by military patrols thr
ee times. My companions presented documents to them and they immediately let us pass.
Four hours later we entered Leningrad.
We stopped near a building on Morskoi. One of the officers invited me to follow him. He and I entered the building and climbed to the fourth floor. The officer rang apartment 15, turned, and went back downstairs.
The door opened. On the threshold stood a blond man of medium height in the uniform of a lieutenant colonel of the state security. He was extremely anxious, but restrained himself with all his might. Keeping his eyes fixed on me, he stepped back into the depths of the apartment. I trembled as well: my heart felt a brother. I closed the door and went to him. The apartment was almost dark because of the closed drapes. Nonetheless, I could make out the blue of his straining eyes.
We embraced and fell to our knees. Our hearts began to speak. This continued until evening. His heart had longed wearily for the sacred, and it trembled violently. But it was fairly inexperienced and knew only six heart words.
Finally we broke our embrace.
Coming to, he said, “My earthly name is Aleksei Ilich Korobov.”
His heart name was Adr.
He was silent again, and simply looked at me for a long time. But I was used to it. In our Home the brothers and sisters spoke in earthly language only when absolutely necessary. Then he picked up the telephone receiver and said, “The car.”
We went out onto the street. It was already dark.
A chauffeured automobile and guard were waiting next to the entrance. We were taken to Moscow Station. There we boarded the Leningrad–Moscow train and locked ourselves in a sleeping car. Adr placed fruits on the table. But he couldn’t eat; he just continued looking at me as before.
I was already hungry and ate a few fruits with pleasure. Then he told me his story. He was a regular officer of the MGB, and in 1947 the Ministry of State Security sent him to Germany on business for GUSIMZ, the Main Directorate of Soviet Property Abroad.
Ice Trilogy Page 44