by Jacob Whaler
Matt surveys the faces below him. Some of them he recognizes from before, old men in decades-old torn denim, small children with dirt-blackened hands. Women whose cheekbones are barely hidden by a thin covering of unadorned flesh. All of them outcasts and believers.
“I know it hasn’t been easy.” Tears well up in Jessica’s eyes. “You’ve lived apart from the world for so long. You may think the world has passed you by. In many ways it has. But the warnings you have heard over the years are true. Abomination is among us, and is about to get worse. Much worse.” Jessica wipes her eyes and takes a step backward. She looks up to Matt and nods.
He takes a step forward, holding the opened cloaking box with its Stones burning white. “You’ve seen the implants. They’ve been distributed in every land and county, and now over 95% of the world population has a direct connection to the Mesh through their minds. They have been taught that it’s a gift of Shinto, the way to unity and oneness. The pathway to peace. But the truth is much darker.” Matt digs into his pocket and pulls out a handful of the blue jewels taken from the shrine in Japan. He throws them in the dirt at the base of the boulder.
The people in the front row stare down and move back in revulsion.
“You’ve been taught well by Little John, the founder of the freedom camps. Only a generation raised to revolt at the sight of technology could resist the lure of the blue jewels. In a few hours, something almost unimaginable is going to happen. The master of the implants will execute the final stage of his plan. In an instant, those who have received the blue jewel will find they have lost a most precious possession, the only thing they can truly call their own. Their freedom to think and act for themselves. His mind will become their mind. They will do as he chooses.”
Yarah pulls Matt down to her eye level. “Fear is taking over their minds. They need you to tell them what to do.”
Matt looks up. “Stay in your homes and hiding places. Do not run. Live as you have since the end of the freedom camps. Make sure your stores of food and water are sufficient to sustain your families for weeks of turmoil.” He puts an arm around Jessica and pulls her close. “I do not know what lies ahead. There will be darkness. Whether it be long or short, I cannot tell. I wish there were a secret weapon to defeat the adversary. But that weapon has not been revealed to me.” Matt’s voice drops to a whisper.
“Tell them about the Allehonen,” Jessica says. “Give them hope.”
Taking in a deep breath, Matt reaches out for the power of his Stone. “I know that we are not alone. We have each other. And there are Others that watch us, that wait for the day when we can welcome them back to this Earth. I’ve seen them, and they have spoken to me.”
If only I could show them.
Perhaps it is possible. He puts the cloaking box into his pocket and reaches for Yarah’s hand. “Will they come?”
Yarah smiles and nods. Her voice echoes in his mind.
They will come if we ask.
Matt closes his eyes and floats in space beside Yarah. Each of them holds a white Stone in their hands.
“Use mine to call them.” She holds out her open palm, takes his hand and drops her Stone into it.
As his fingers wrap around it, his eyes and body are drawn upward. A mountain of yearning finds its way to the surface, fills his chest and bursts out through his open mouth.
“Come to us. We need you.”
He feels the music with his body before he hears it with his ears. A low frequency vibration starts below his feet, touches his soles and works its way up. As it moves, it seems to fill the emptiness between molecules and atoms. For the first time in his life, he feels completely solid, yet light as a feather. When it reaches his eyes, the darkness vanishes, and he is enveloped in a vast warmth.
A single voice echoes.
We will come.
Releasing his grip on Yarah’s Stone, he opens his eyes atop the boulder in Stanley Park still holding the little girl’s hand. Irresistibly, his gaze is drawn upward. A single cylinder of light drops down from above and hovers above the crowd as they follow his eyes skyward.
In a blur, hundreds of luminous beings flow out of the open end of the cylinder like water and surround the Children of the freedom camps. They move among the people, touching their own foreheads to the head of each man, woman and child standing in the clearing.
Looks of joy and ecstasy fill the eyes and faces of the Children of the freedom camps.
Out of the flowing river of light, two of the Allehonen turn and walk to the boulder. They rise in the air to the level of Matt and Jessica as they come closer and stop when they are two meters away. Matt stares into their eyes.
It is the Woman and her Beloved.
Her voice is like the waters of Niagara Falls.
Do not fear. We will come.
The Woman touches Matt’s forehead. He has a vision of tubes of light descending from the sky across the earth. In cities and mountainsides, on islands and in deserts, people of all nationalities gaze up as the same luminous beings come down and move among them.
Then they are gone.
Matt and Jessica, Yarah and the rest of the Children, are left staring up into the sky.
Without any words exchanged, the people move out of the clearing in all directions, back into the trees, walking as individuals or families.
“Amazing,” Matt says. “They really are watching.”
Jessica jumps down from the boulder and helps Yarah to the ground. “A good way to start the day. But we have to hurry.” Her eyes find the paper in her hand, covered with pencil scribbling. “We have twenty more gatherings like this throughout the day. More than one on every continent.”
Matt nods. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 117
Ryzaard pulls back from Miyazawa.
Through the night it had become maddeningly clear what was going on. Every few seconds, Matt was jumping the priest’s white transport randomly over the earth, leaving it in one place just long enough for combat fighters to be scrambled. When the fighters arrived, there was no target. Then he could feel the transport jump thousands or tens of thousands of miles away, and the game would start again. It was Matt’s attempt to occupy Ryzaard’s time and energy, and he had grown weary of it.
It’s time for Ryzaard to put the boy out of his mind.
With the priest no longer worthy of trust, there is a natural need for someone else to preach at the Shinto shrine in the Mesh, its most popular gathering point. With the help of Kalani, they have introduced an algorithm to generate an avatar in the guise of Miyazawa to spew forth random selections from his past sermons. Although nothing new is ever said, it’s sufficient to keep the people coming and believing.
But now that the new order is only hours away, Ryzaard feels the need to preach his own sermon, to prepare the people for what is coming.
Relaxing into the Mesh, Ryzaard clothes his own avatar in the robes of the Shinto order, taking on the appearance of Miyazawa, and steps out onto the golden platform in front of the shrine. Thousands of the faithful stand or bow in the valley between the saw-tooth mountains. A quick check reveals that there are actually five billion souls, nearly a quarter of the Earth’s population, accessing the shrine.
Not enough.
With startling ease, Ryzaard relaxes into his Stones and lets his mind fill the whole of the Mesh. It will be a simple matter to take the final step, to erase the individual minds that crawl through its digital fabric like maggots in a carcass. He resists the temptation and takes a less drastic step, forcibly pulling billions of minds from other parts of the Mesh to the shrine, while at the same time grabbing billions of minds that have wandered off the Mesh.
It’s time they heard some words from their new master.
“It is good to see so many of you gathered together at this spot on this beautiful morning.” He can feel billions of the minds straining against his pull, trying to get back to their brainless entertainments. “I am flattered that you chose to come her
e when you have so many alternatives, and I am keenly aware of my responsibility to share my wisdom with you.”
The thrill of having the undivided attention of eighteen billion pairs of eyes is intoxicating. Miyazawa is a man of few words, and the words he speaks are spoken carefully and succinctly. No doubt this is one reason people are drawn to his shrine. In the world of unlimited gratification and pleasure created by the Mesh, the simple words of a simple priest stand out like white on black.
Ryzaard understands they might find his flow of words less compelling, even less interesting.
No matter. They have nowhere else to go. Soon, his words will be raging in their minds around the clock. Let them get used to it now.
“I have spoken on many occasions of unity and oneness. Through the genius of the blue jewel, I trust you have experienced unity on a level never before imagined. Here in the Mesh, we feel each other’s thoughts and communicate with an honesty and directness never before shared in the history of the human race.” Ryzaard looks through the eyes of Miyazawa’s avatar. In the sea of faces, all are paying attention.
“This is the purpose for which the blue jewels have come to us. To raise humankind to a new level. To take us out of our individuality and petty selfishness. To remake us as new creatures no longer driven by self-interest, but able to feel the pain and joy of others as if it were our own. True empathy is the only path to self-fulfillment. By having the courage to lose the self, we find our true humanity and have the strength to accomplish what we were made for.”
Ryzaard smiles broadly. As he reaches out to the gathered minds, he nudges them in the direction of agreement. Heads begin to bob up and down.
How easy it is to manipulate the masses. It occurs to him that what has been done on this world can be replicated on countless others. In time, with careful planning and execution, it will be possible to capture every mind in the universe.
And then there are other universes waiting to be stripped of their minds.
The possibilities are staggering.
“Each of us yearn to become part of something larger. We yearn for meaning and purpose. That yearning can be satisfied only by becoming One. This higher level of being awaits us as we move forward on the path made possible by the blue jewel.”
As Ryzaard relaxes his hold on the minds, billions of them linger before moving to other parts of the Mesh. The seed has been planted. In a few more hours, there will be a bountiful harvest.
CHAPTER 118
“Do you think it did any good?” Matt relaxes on the white leather sofa in the middle compartment of the transport. From the looks of it, they are floating somewhere over the Himalayas. “I hope it lifted their spirits. Gave them some hope.”
“Of course it did.” Jessica stretches her arm around him. “News of the Allehonen will spread like wildfire. The Children will have hope to hold on to when the Abomination takes hold.”
Matt leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “The question is, when will the Abomination take hold, and when will the Allehonen come.”
“Soon,” Yarah says.
Jessica pulls the little girl down onto her lap. “Soon can mean so many things. A few hours, a dozen years, half a millennium.” She looks into the next room. “Has anyone checked on Miyazawa? I wonder how he’s doing.” Dropping Yarah onto the sofa next to Matt, she gets to her feet and walks into the priest’s room.
Matt and the little girl both hear her breathe in sharply with surprise. They run into the room.
The priest is sitting up in bed, eyes open, staring out through transparent walls at the lights on the continent far below.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Miyazawa twists to the side and steps onto the floor. “As darkness falls upon the earth, there are lights in the heavens above, and lights on the earth below.” A lonely smile, soaked in sadness, stretches across his lips. “I’m going to miss the simple beauty of a sunrise or a sunset.”
Matt touches the priest’s robe, as if to confirm that what he is seeing is real and not some kind of cruel holo projection. “How did you—”
“It’s clear from the medical data.” Jessica brushes her finger along the bluescreen, replaying the last few hours of the priest’s vitals. “His heart began to beat. His lungs started to function normally. The machine automatically disconnected itself and sewed him up.”
“But Ryzaard—”
“Let me go,” Miyazawa says. “I remember when it happened. Like the clouds suddenly clearing on a rainy day. The thunder stopped. Light broke through. For a moment, I was free.”
“A moment?” Matt says.
The priest slumps back down onto the side of the bed. “He replaced me at the shrine. And then pulled everyone to it so we could all hear him speak.” His eyes travel up from the floor to meet Matt’s. “It was strange. I was standing there, in the front row, staring at myself speaking on the platform.” Looking over at Yarah, he nods. “The little girl is right. It is going to happen soon. Ryzaard all but told us.” His eyes go half shut.
Turning Miyazawa back to face him, Matt shakes him awake. “What did he say?”
“That the end is coming soon. From the tone of his voice, it could come any time, surely within a few hours. All individuality will be stripped away. A higher state of consciousness awaits. We will be One, made so by the blue jewel.”
Yarah steps closer and puts her hand on Miyazawa’s. “We tried to take it away. But we couldn’t.” Her eyes drift up to Matt.
“Its roots have spread throughout your brain and spinal cord and become part of the basic structure. If we remove it—”
“Then I will die.” The priest drops his face into his hands.
Yarah raises up his head with tiny hands. “We won’t let you die.”
“But living may be worse. I’ve felt what it’s like to have Ryzaard in my mind.” Miyazawa shakes his head as if to clear away the thought. “We still have a few hours. The last deliveries of the implants won’t take place until later tonight.” He stands, walks a few feet and turns. “I would like to have a last meal, and then I will ask you to chain me up.”
“A last meal,” Matt says. “Not a bad idea. I know just how we can do it.”
Under his direction, they clear the floor in the mid-section of the transport and lay down a circle of zabuton cushions. Then Matt takes their food orders, jumping away to far parts of the world after each one and bringing back exactly what has been requested. In a few minutes, the floor is spread with an eclectic feast of everyone’s favorite food.
As the ship floats over the southern tip of Africa, they sit down and stare.
“I want you all to know,” Matt says. “It was all properly paid for.” His hand wanders down to a tall glass of chocolate milk.
Miyazawa puts his palms together in front of his chest. “Itadakimasu. I will humbly partake.” He lifts a cup of exquisite green tea to his mouth and lets the steam kiss his lips.
“No need to be humble.” Jessica reaches for a plate of crispy fried chicken next to a bowl of green jello. “Just dig in.”
“I will,” Matt says. With a pair of long black chopsticks that taper to a fine point, he reaches across a lacquered bowl of miso soup and a neon array of dragon rolls topped with tobiko eggs until he comes to generous cubes of bright red tuna stacked on a blue plate. As he pulls back with two cubes skewered on the end of each chopstick, his eyes survey the perfect form, the delicate curve of the grain. He lifts them up to a salivating mouth. The raw fish melts into oblivion.
Yarah sits back, Japanese style, with hands neatly folded in front. “Let me see.” Her eyes wander back and forth across vast plates of red, green and yellow delicacies laid out picnic style. “Yes. That’s what I want.” She bends forward, places a palm down between a long tray of steaming gyoza and orange piles of fresh sea urchin, and grasps the bowl of golden curry. Finding an over-sized spoon, she eats it straight, without rice.
“When I was a child.” Miyazawa leans back and lets his eyes wander up
to the belt of Orion in the night sky over Kilimanjaro. “My mother made the best oyako domburi.”
Dropping another thigh bone into an empty bowl, Jessica draws a napkin across her mouth. “What’s that?”
“Chicken and egg over rice.” Matt bites a gyoza dumpling in half and inhales the intoxicating aroma of garlic and ginger. “We used to eat it at a little restaurant on visits to Japan. The sauce is not too runny, but just runny enough to leak into the rice.” His eyes close, and he searches his memories. “I can still see it. An old shop in the town of Otaru, just up from the dock near the house where my grandparents lived.”
“My mother’s pumpkin pie. Steaming hot with cold whipped cream melting on top.” Jessica leans back on her hands. “All the cousins came to our house for Thanksgiving. I was the only one that liked dark meat, and I’d get a whole turkey drumstick all to myself. We’d eat until we were sick. Then we’d go downstairs to play pool and foosball.”
Matt picks up a plate piled high with handmade cream puffs. “Luckily, the store that makes these is still in business.” He takes one, brings it close to his nose and inhales. “Pure perfection. I insist that you all have at least one.” The plate moves from his hands to Jessica, around to Miyazawa, and stops in front of Yarah.
She bites into the soft vanilla interior and stares up at the faces of the laughing adults.
Gazing around in the soft light, happiness floods Matt’s mind.
Never forget this, he thinks.
At some point, the talking and eating stop. There are sighs and satisfied faces around the floor. The stars overhead grow dim through the dark mist of a cloud.
Miyazawa stands and steps away from the center of the room and bows deeply. “It is time to sleep. I believe there are chains in the cargo compartment. Please bring them.” He turns and walks to the adjoining room.
They all hear him drop onto the bed.