by Jacob Whaler
“We stand here at a single shrine in my home country. It was here, in a land that is no more than a small island, that the path to Oneness and Harmony was discovered by a few poor rice farmers thousands of years ago. It came to be called Shinto, the Way of the Kami, the Way of the Gods.” Miyazawa reaches into the over-sized sleeve of his robe and takes an object out. He keeps it hidden inside his fist.
“I now speak not only to my own countrymen, but to all people of the world who embrace Shinto. You have brought peace where once there was only death and devastation. Billions are united in the Way of the Kami.” He opens his hand to reveal a clear cube on his open palm. On the massive bluescreens flanking him and on identical screens at shrines around the world, all can see the single blue jewel that floats in the cube’s interior. “It is the will of the Kami that all of you become One on a deeper level. This Gift is the Way.”
Moving his gaze to the line of people kneeling behind a rope at the bottom of the marble steps, he locks eyes with a young woman, perhaps twenty years of age, and, with an outstretched arm, beckons her forward.
Never taking her eyes off Miyazawa, the young woman leans forward under the rope. Following the priest’s prompts, she ascends the marble steps, mounts the top and stops less than a meter away from his eyes.
“You will be the first of all the believers to receive the Gift.” Miyazawa touches the cube. Its top third slides horizontally to the side. Exposed to the open air, the jewel glows with a blue aura and rises a centimeter on a tiny pedestal. They both inhale the faint smell of Jasmine tea mixed with cedar oil that the jewel gives off. “Close your eyes.”
Miyazawa lifts the implant in his fingers, letting the empty cube fall away. With the other hand, he gently brushes back the young woman’s dark hair and presses the jewel against the skin behind her right ear.
“Now open your eyes.” Miyazawa lifts her fingers up to touch an identical implant he has behind his own ear. He slowly turns her around so she is gazing over the crowd. “What do you see?”
Her face appears on the bluescreen beside Miyazawa. The dark eyes are open and fully dilated. “I’m weightless, swimming in a sea of color. Thousands of structures go on forever above and below, in every direction, like floating islands.”
“Do you know what the floating islands are?”
The young woman leans forward a few centimeters, but keeps her balance. “I can jump to any of them, instantaneously. Some are single buildings. Others look like entire cities. Clouds and oceans. Forests.”
Hundreds of thousands of faces stare up at the bluescreens, mouths open, listening to the dialogue and watching with rapt attention.
“Let’s try something.” The priest rests his hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “What is your favorite Mesh-point?”
The woman’s eyes close. Beneath the lids, the eyeballs move from side to side. “I spend a lot of time watching music holos at CJ247.751.”
“What do you see now?”
“It’s incredible.” Her eyes flutter open and shut like camera lenses. “I’m there, at the Mesh-point, walking through a building, moving up and down floors. I can access all the holos just by . . .” Her jaw drops down. “Thinking it.” The woman’s arms fly out to the side, and she brings her hands up to her head. “I can travel the Mesh, go anywhere. In my mind.”
“I will join you.” Miyazawa’s own eyes dilate, and the blue jewel glows behind his ear. “So that all can see what the Gift can do.”
The real-world image on the bluescreens fades. A stylized version of the priest, his avatar, appears against a background of white. It’s not cartoonish, but the lines are too clean, the color too intense, the symmetry too perfect, to be real. He hovers in an ocean of floating structures.
The background blurs, and Miyazawa stands at the base of steps leading up to an open door. He ascends and walks into the interior.
The young woman’s avatar stands in the center of the room, dressed in elaborate robes of blue and white. Multiple spheres of multi-chromatic holos hover around her. She is in front of one, her hand resting on its blue surface.
“Come with me.” Miyazawa approaches from behind. She turns, and he takes her hand. For a half second, the background fades to a blur of static, and then condenses into a Shinto temple courtyard nestled against a steep green mountain with white pearls underfoot. They stand in front of a torii gate made from the trunks and branches of two cherry trees. “Welcome to my shrine. Here I will teach the Way of the Kami to the entire world.” He picks up a white pearl from the ground and hands it to her.
As she takes it in her fingertips, audible words play out in the soft voice of the priest.
There is no Many. It is an illusion. There is only One.
At first not comprehending the source of the voice, the woman stares down at the white drop perched on her fingers. She lets it roll off and reaches down to pick up another.
We are all a manifestation of the Kami.
As it becomes clear that the sound is coming from the pearls, she drops to the ground and scoops them up by handfuls. A chorus of voices descend around her. Ecstasy rises on her face. Wisdom lies all around her.
“Come.” Miyazawa raises her up. “Let us return and share the Gift with others.”
The avatars on the bluescreen close their eyes and fade from view, replaced by the real life images of Miyazawa and the young woman. He steps forward and walks, hand in hand with the woman, down the steps to ground level and over to the front line of worshipers. The woman returns to her place.
In full view of the bluescreen, Miyazawa steps off the path of pearls, stoops down and brushes aside a thin veneer of dark dirt that covers the ground. His hand comes up with another of the clear cubes encasing the blue jewel. Holding it high for all to see, he hands it to an old man a few feet away.
“The Gift is here for all, under your very feet. I encourage you to freely partake, that we all may be One.”
The sea of black hair turns to white robes as each person bends down and gropes in the dirt below them. There are cries of joy as hundreds of thousands of followers came up with clear cubes and gaze at the prize within.
“Touch the white spot and the Gift will open to you.” Miyazawa surveys the crowd with fatherly love. His eyes glisten with moisture. “Apply the jewel to the skin behind your right ear. Close your eyes. Join us.”
CHAPTER 83
“Can you feel them coming in?” The implant behind Ryzaard’s ear glows light blue.
“Like a tidal wave.” Kalani leans back in his chair and puts his feet on the crystal table.
The holo in the center shows a view of the Shinto shrine built in the Mesh by Miyazawa. Cherry blossoms rain down upon the priest as he gazes out on a growing throng of worshipers. With each passing second, hundreds more of them materialize and bend down to pick up pearls from the ground.
Jing-wei looks down at her slate. “The Earth United Shinto Alliance is already getting bombarded with thousands of requests from shrines around the world for the Mesh implants.
“By the end of the day today, we’ll have a hundred million implants ready for shipment and delivery.” Jerek turns to Ryzaard. “Shall I order the transport vessels to move ahead of schedule?”
“No need to change our schedule,” Ryzaard says. “Let them wait for a few days. It won’t hurt to allow the demand to build up before we release any more.”
“There may be riots.” Diego Lopez shifts in his chair. “People will congregate at their local shrines and demand that they receive the same Gift given to their Japanese counterparts.” He bends forward with hands on the table. “After all, this is the first successful Mesh-brain interface. For the masses, the holy grail of technology has just been introduced.”
Ryzaard’s hands go behind his back, and he assumes the posture of an Oxford don. “All the better. Let them riot. A little blood may be good for the cause. People will want the peace of Shinto even more.” He wanders around the table and stops behind Jing-wei.
“Assure Miyazawa that we are fabricating the implants as fast as we can and that his shrines will be supplied with a sufficient amount to satisfy all requests. All in due time.”
“What about limits on Mesh access?” Kalani eyes the growing crowd gathered at Miyazawa’s shrine. “Depending on the level of encryption, highly secure Mesh-points will be invisible or inaccessible to Mesh-travelers, just as they are now.” His hand drops down to the handle of the knife hanging from his belt. “Do we really want to open up the rest of the Mesh to this horde?”
Ryzaard puts a black Djarum between his lips. “Let them have free access to the Mesh. For now.” He lights a match and touches it to the tip of the cigarette. “As long as all of our assets are protected, I see no harm. But keep track of where they go and the most popular Mesh-points. That may be useful information for the future.”
“I assume you would like us to track the identities of all who receive an implant and enter the Mesh.” Diego looks up from his slate. “It’s a fairly straightforward procedure. We can pull the ID numbers off their jax.”
“Do it,” Ryzaard says. “Let me know if any of our enemies venture a foot inside. That would be a most interesting prospect.” He walks around the table and returns to a spot behind his chair. “Any other questions?”
Each of the young people silently shakes their head.
“Good,” Ryzaard says. “Continue on with your projects. With the distribution of the implants, we enter a new phase. One step closer to the goal.”
Elsa Bergman puts her elbows on the table. “And what exactly is the goal? I keep forgetting.” She drops her chin into her hands.
“I’m surprised you need to ask.” Ryzaard turns and starts walking to his office across the floor. “The short-term goal is for 99% of the population on the planet to get the implant. As soon as we have achieved that, Paradise will follow.”
“What about the one percent?” Elsa raises her eyebrows and scans the table, as if she is looking for a response from someone other than Ryzaard.
He stops halfway to his office and turns. “No need to worry. When we have achieved penetration of the ninety and nine, the one remaining lost sheep will be easily dealt with.” He turns back and begins walking to his office.
“You mean disposed of?” Elsa’s voice reaches across the open space between them.
Ryzaard stops. “No need for you to concern yourself with it. Just keep doing your job. The same for all of you.” He walks through the open door and shuts it behind him.
The rest of them remain at the table. With Ryzaard gone from the room, Jing-wei slowly relaxes and sinks deeper into her chair.
“Anyone else feel it?” Jing-wei’s finger goes up to the implant behind her ear.
Diego swivels in his chair. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Feel what?” Jerek says.
“My point exactly.” Jing-wei’s arms go down to the table. “I got the implant five days ago, just like the rest of you. Before that, I was seriously considering quitting the team, regardless of the threat to my family.”
“Why would you ever want to quit the team?” Elsa asks. “You saw what happened to Alexa, didn’t you?” She closes her eyes and shakes her head.
“Again, my point exactly,” Jing-wei says.
Kalani leans close to her. “Are you feeling OK?”
“I feel fine. But haven’t the rest of you noticed a subtle shift in your thinking. I remember, before I got the implant, thinking that just maybe Ryzaard had gone crazy. That his idea of using nuclear detonations to kill millions and get the attention of the world was . . .” Her gaze drifts out the window to the city below.
“Was what?” Jerek smiles. “A stroke of genius?”
“No.” Jing-wei shakes her head. “Evil.”
“Why would you think that?” Kalani says.
“I don’t. Not now. But I think I did before.” Jing-wei pushes away from the table and slowly walks around it. “Each of you were the same. I remember. But now all of that is gone.”
“So what’s the problem?” Diego says. “Ryzaard really is a genius. He’s going to eliminate suffering once and for all. Paradise is on its way. How can we argue with that?”
“You’re right.” Jing-wei stops. “Don’t you see? We can’t argue with it. We’ve all lost the ability to argue or disagree with Ryzaard.”
Kalani laughs. “What’s so bad about that?” His fingers go up to the implant behind his ear. “I’m really getting to like this. Can’t imagine how I got along without it before.”
One by one, the others walk away from the table, leaving Jing-wei standing by herself.
CHAPTER 84
Finally away from the madness.
Matt walks through a field of sunflowers, fingers entwined with Jessica’s warm hand. Yarah runs ahead, raising her arms to the full moon that floats above.
Stepping out onto a paved road, Jessica points down a long driveway. “I’m surprised to see a house there.” She moves across the road. “Last time I was here, everything was destroyed. It must have been rebuilt.”
Matt and Yarah follow Jessica up the lane.
“Who lives here?” Matt scans the Japanese house. It looks like a two-story box rising in the middle with a low, flat roof spreading out on both sides below it like wings. Glossy clay tiles reflect the moonlight and cling to the roof in neat rows like perfectly aligned cockroaches. It appears entirely uninhabited, no lights, no well-trimmed garden of trees and bushes in front, no car. Nothing but flat ground and fresh wood construction that smells of raw cedar sap.
“Her name is Michiko.” Jessica balances a pulse rifle on her shoulder, the barrel pointing up at the moon. “She was educated in America and speaks flawless English. I met her a few months back, while I was with the Inuit people. We crossed over from Alaska and came here on a submarine to find a certain freedom camp. Her father was a wealthy farmer, loosely affiliated with the camp.” She stops in front of the entrance. The sliding door is open a few inches. No sound comes from inside.
“I remember you telling me the story,” Matt says. A hidden cicada starts buzzing in the darkness to their right. Another one joins in the chorus behind them. “Ryzaard’s people attacked and destroyed the house and killed everyone in it. You, your Inuit friend and Michiko got away.” He pulls the two parts of a pulse rifle from his backpack, clicks them together and turns to the right, squinting his eyes. “But Michiko got separated from you. What ever happened to her?”
“I don’t kn—”
“Right here.”
Matt and Jessica pump their rifles in unison and swing the barrels to the right in the direction of the voice.
A Japanese woman steps out of the shadows behind the corner of the house into the moonlight, her own rifle pointed at Matt.
Jessica lifts her cheek off the stock of her gun. “Michiko, is that you?” She lets the barrel drop to the ground and takes a step forward. “It’s Jessica. From America. With some friends. Remember me?”
Matt’s rifle sags down. His hand slowly goes into a side pocket and fingers the cloaking box with its open lid, making his Stone feel dead and useless.
Keeping her rifle in a horizontal position trained on Matt, Michiko slides forward. “We found the submarine destroyed. I thought they killed you as well. Why have you come back?”
“We need your help.” Matt lets his rifle fall to the ground and raises his hands. “A place to hide. Time to organize our forces against Ryzaard.”
Michiko walks close to Matt and thrusts the tip of her rifle against his chest. Her gaze goes down to Yarah standing beside her.
“Will you help us?” Yarah has a big smile on her face.
Michiko shoots a glance at Jessica. “The last time you came here, Ryzaard’s men killed my father. They destroyed our house, the farm, everything we had. They drained my father’s bank accounts. They took it all and left us nothing.” She drops the gun and steps back. “I had some money in an account overseas. Enough to r
ebuild the house, but now someone else owns the farm.”
“I’m sorry.” Jessica drops her gaze to the ground. “You saved my life before. I wish it could have worked out differently for your family.”
Turning, Michiko opens the sliding door behind her. “It can’t be helped. Come inside.”
The three of them follow her into the dark interior, slipping out of their shoes and stepping onto the main floor. They move on a cold wood surface down a dark hall and through another sliding door into a small tatami room on the right.
Michiko pulls thick curtains over the windows and turns on a single light drooping from a wire over a low table. She goes to a closet and pulls out four zabuton cushions, dropping one on each side of the table.
A picture of her father with a thick, black ribbon running through it hangs on the wall.
Michiko points at the cushions on the floor. “Sit down. I’ll bring tea.” She slips out through the sliding door.
The receding patter of her bare feet lingers in the hallway.
Yarah remains standing. Her eyes wander to a bookcase with a long row of colorful old paperback books with large Japanese kanji running down the spines. She pulls one of the books out of the middle and stares at the yellow pages as she fans them from front to back.
“It goes the other way,” Matt says. “Back to front.” He takes one of the books. “Looks like an antique collection of Japanese manga from a long time ago.” He reads the cover and smiles. “Naruto. It’s about a boy that’s a ninja.”
“Ninja?” Yarah’s brown eyes stare up at Matt. “What does a ninja do?”
Michiko walks in with four cups and a steaming pot on a tray. “A ninja is a person with unique talents.” She casts her gaze in the direction of Matt. “Someone who fights in unusual ways to accomplish what no one else can do.” Kneeling down, she places each cup precisely six inches from the edge on each side of the square table.