Sunspot Jungle

by Bill Campbell

I am one creation among everything created in the universe, one part of a successful world, a form that transitioned from tiny to huge, a connection in a mystical network to the outside.

  I, every I, gathered here after this realization, shared their perception and cognition completely, the experience of life accumulated here without end, like crystals of wisdom.

  I am the most perfect form in the evolution of Dieresians and also that of any high-order life-form in this universe.

  At the time when I become “I,” I am outside of time, outside of cause and effect, coming infinitely closer on the infinitely long road, finally about to reach the core.

  Our world is one section of huge force without peer, without beginning, without end, galloping and howling seas, forever wandering smooth forms, forever returning, a returning that takes infinite years; all things are uniform, steadfast through the ages, forever observing carefully and tirelessly, steeped in and drunk on the wisdom and beauty of the universe.

  “This is the form that we eventually want to become.” I sighed as though I was talking in my sleep. “How do I become ‘I’?”

  Those who have become complete experience existence. The happiness they feel is boundless. The suffering they bear is critically grave. You will be weak, be seduced, be confronted with a choice. Don’t let the green flame consume you. Don’t become food for carnivores.

  I wanted to say that I didn’t understand, but the most senior of the elders had already returned to his companions. They started singing again. The elders and their profound gaze disappeared into the light that once again shrouded them. We quietly and respectfully backed our way out.

  As we climbed down the stairs, Hull explained wordlessly to me that he considered experience much more important than speech. That’s why he waited until the night of Ramayama Day, when the spirit collective can take physical form, before bringing me.

  “Also …”

  “What?”

  We stopped walking and gazed at each other.

  “The drugs I gave you were indeed high-calorie nourishment pills. Ganglions need ample nourishment to grow and develop.”

  “You know, I’ve never doubted anything.”

  Holding each other’s hand, we continued towards the public square.

  “Is it that all Dieresians can ultimately become a spirit collective? What does it mean for a spirit collective to be complete?”

  “Some will abandon completeness.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s much easier. They keep only parts that are necessary. Being able to survive is enough.”

  “We won’t do that, right?”

  “Right.” He tightened his grip on my hand.

  “Hull, even if I loved you with all of my body and mind, I still wouldn’t think that was enough. I also want you to use all of your body and mind to answer me. All of everything.”

  As if I said some things I shouldn’t have said, Hull, somber and pale, didn’t say any more. Even though I didn’t use a deep layer of my powers of perception, I still knew he was struggling with pain. That was something I was utterly incapable of understanding at the time. I was afraid. Nameless, outmoded concerns once again floated to the top of my head.

  Just at that moment, a red bus slowly drove up from behind us.

  “Look, Hull, a bus. Can it take us home?”

  “Yes.”

  I waved down the bus, then got in. He didn’t immediately follow me. He just stood by the bus, his face ashen. I suddenly realized something irreversible was about to happen. Just as I thought about getting off the bus, it started to move. Hull got on just before the bus doors closed.

  We were the only ones on the bus, no other passengers, no conductor, not even a driver. The empty seats and the handrails gleamed. Once the dim overhead light went out, the bus grew dark and nearly silent. All I could hear was the sound of the motor. We were like visitors who’d stumbled into the wrong cemetery. In the dark, countless invisible eyes glared at us coldly. The air grew thick with a faint, sweet, but nauseating flavor.

  I felt squished. The bus was jammed full of round shadows. I could feel the rise and fall of their breath on my skin.

  The bus turned suddenly. I nearly fell. Hull grabbed hold of me. Light from a streetlamp cut through the shadow of the driver’s seat. Like a bolt of lightning, it hit the two hands gripping the steering wheel so tight their knuckles had grown white. They steered the bus and controlled its speed with a practiced assurance as though they were connected to arms and received instructions from a brain rather than being two isolated palms sliced off at the wrist. They were not bleeding. The cuts were extremely smooth and expertly done. They didn’t even leave scars. Although the hands were laborer’s hands, they were moist and shone white like the hands of a pampered lady.

  This scene looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before. Where could I have seen it before?

  A leg lay flat just in front of my seat.

  A dignified face turned around on a mechanical stand to stare at me.

  A mouth connected to a tongue and windpipe glided by underfoot, weak and limp, in a miniature wheelchair. It stopped next to the driver’s seat and said something.

  The light turned red and the bus, brakes slammed, lurched to a stop. Two hands connected to robust arms rushed to grab the bus’s rings. A woman who only had an upper body held onto a man who only had a lower body. A headless body with its legs crossed sat perfectly still.

  The bus arrived at the station. Two slender, perfectly straight legs “pushed” me towards the bus’s rear door. A pair of massive breasts in a bra squeezed past me off the bus. An ass wearing rubber underpants with the help of mechanical legs followed me off the bus.

  I looked behind me. Hull. I shouted his name. It wasn’t until then, brother, that I discovered that I was laughing. Laughter shuddered through my body, then splattered out. I was mad. You think so, too, right? However, it would have been so much better if I’d actually gone mad.

  Hull didn’t say anything. He was still there in the form of a complete body. I couldn’t help thinking about what he’d look like after he’d been split into pieces. He—I should say “they,” what would they look like? Maybe the hands that once used to hold me in their grasp. Maybe his burning hot lips. Maybe his eyes.

  I looked at him in the distance, using my gaze to cut him and every other sort of compound form apart. Over and over, the real world fell apart in front of me. Because this was absurd, I didn’t feel any fear. I started to doubt my memories of these past few months. Perhaps I’d really gone mad. Everything involving Hull was the product of an unbridled imagination, my work of art created while I stayed at the madhouse.

  Even I as I write this letter, I’m still not completely sure. Does this world exist?

  No, brother, you’re wrong. I’m wrong, too. Hull’s right. Just like when he grabbed me so tightly he nearly broke my bones.

  He said, “Don’t make a sound. You exasperate them. They’re all perfectly normal Dieresians.”

  I remembered the words he said to me at home not too long ago. Now I understood what he meant. Laughter gushed out in unending spurts. Involuntarily, I bent over in convulsion.

  Cold hatred gathered like nimbus clouds from every corner. From a mouth, a hand, an arm, or a waist, from any piece of the human body you can imagine dismembering. We stood in the midst of a violent storm. Hull was a terrifying sight to behold.

  “They will attack us if you don’t stop talking!”

  My eyes were startled open wide. He hated me. That’s for certain. Hidden behind the shadow of fear was him being fed up with and disappointed in me.

  And my disgust towards this horrible and ugly race along with the hate of Hull himself were written clearly on my face.

  We looked at each other in dismay, panting in coarse breaths. Because we’d just looked carelessly down at an abyss from on high and saw it for what it truly was, we felt dizzy.

  It passed in a moment no lo
nger than a flash of lightning. For us, it was more than long enough.

  Why don’t I stop writing here? It seems like everything is over. I’m very tired.

  Alia Calendar 4th month, 90th year

  Brother, how are you doing? Did you get my letter? I think I’ve lost you again. I think I’ve lost a lot of things, irretrievably. I maintain an indifferent attitude as I watch the current of time sweep them away. After this year of struggle, Hull and I finally gave up on our marriage. It was like an abandoned spaceship. We each sat in our respective escape pods, separate windows gazing at the steel, island-like spaceship slowly drifting in the the vast, desolate universe.

  There was nothing we could do about it. We tried hard to forget what happened in the bus on Ramayana Day, but we couldn’t. In the worst case, whenever we saw people being affectionate with each other, we couldn’t dismiss the hate deep in our hearts. All I had to do was look at his face, and I’d think about it.

  We pretended to forget, only to bring it up deliberately as a weapon when we fought. We’d turn it into evidence for whatever we accused the other of. Then we’d pretend to forget again. Yes, we were still deeply in love. And it’s because of that, the pain hurt even more. I envy those Dieresians who’d broken themselves into pieces. They look so calm and composed. They’re half-alive, but because of special technology, they’re able to work, eat, sleep, even have sex. They’re not too different from the humans I’ve met. Sometimes I feel like I’m still on Earth. Everything that happened before is really just a fantasy in my mind.

  Just a bit of doubt and the crack you admit to will never fully heal. You’ll never have a way to acknowledge that he and this letter are real. What about you, brother? Hull, my Hull, and the infinitely vast and subtle sensory realm Hull and I experienced together?

  Just a bit of doubt and you lose a universe.

  I lost a universe, but this doesn’t at all make me feel any better. Even if I discover that it was all a fantasy, I’d still feel the stabs of pain. You are hated by a man you deeply love. You hate a man you deeply love. These two facts torment me to no end, drive me crazy. If it’s a fantasy, then why does it hurt so much. What’s the matter with me, brother? All of it was real, without a doubt.

  Finally, to restore our love, Hull suggested he cut his memory. He said Dieresians’ memories are stored in different places all over the body. Just excise that section and that memory completely goes away.

  “I looked further into this. They said all I have to do was cut off a pinky. If I do the surgery, at least one of us can start anew. I can go on to love without the blemish of our mutual hate.”

  Hull tried to convince me. I didn’t answer right away. There was something serious stopping me from agreeing with this intimate, seductive offer. I didn’t know what. Something deep in my heart resisted. I spent several days searching for what.

  One day, I sat by the window. The chilly and moist air of early spring seeped through my skin into the dark jungle of my heart. Suddenly I understood what had stopped me. At the same time, I realized that Hull and I were over.

  “You shouldn’t have that surgery. At least not for my sake. Because I don’t want you to become like those people on the bus. Because I can’t bear to be with a man who is incomplete. Because what I want is all of you. All of you. Do you understand? Do you still remember our conversation outside the Lord’s palace? What I want is completeness. If you aren’t the complete you, then I won’t love you anymore.”

  Hull quickly grew paler and paler. The blood in his veins all rushed into his heart. He became so pale, he seemed transparent. Madly, I wanted to rush up to and hug this transparent man, but I didn’t.

  “You can’t bear an incomplete me. You also can’t face a complete but flawed me,” Hull said in a hoarse voice. He’d immediately understood what I’d meant.

  We stared at each other, merely stared at each other.

  The day that I left, Hull took me to the spaceport. When we reached its ground floor, he suddenly stopped. He looked at me with an odd expression.

  “You’re going to go. Don’t you want to see the green flame?”

  For a moment I didn’t understand, but my body started trembling for no reason. A sharp chill climbed up my spine. I tried to ignore what he said, but my gaze involuntarily followed his and fell on the green, clawed vines on the wall.

  The spirit collective’s words emerged from the secluded valley of my memory.

  Don’t let the green flame swallow you. Don’t become food for carnivores.

  “It’s said that they are this world’s dominators. They’re a higher-order life-form than even us. What’s even more bizarre, it’s claimed that we are their livestock, grazing on the pasture. They designed our bodies, then waited. When we can’t bear life and choose to abandon completeness, the parts of our body we offer up they use as food.” Hull’s eyes were vacant. The corners of his mouth revealed a smile both tranquil and strange. I had the misimpression that he already had the surgery. “Our surgeries are actually really easy. All we have to do is go to them naked. They know which part they ought to eat. They’re never wrong.”

  The shuddering started as a burst from below, then diffused outward through the vines as a nonstop pulsing. They understood what Hull said. Like a starving, bloodthirsty beast that has sniffed out the scent of blood, they became wild beyond compare. Their leaves spun, their runners twisted, their tiny, thrashing claws scratched the walls.

  A seething ocean roiled before my eyes. It spit out an immense column of raging flames that couldn’t wait to swallow all life that was red, raw, and sweet.

  The vines rustled, a sound that was too familiar. I seemed to have heard it before. The sound resembled the violent scratching of sharp claws against my bones.

  “You don’t need to be afraid. They know what they need to do.” Hull sounded as though he were talking to himself in his sleep.

  I covered my face, then ran to the train station. Brother, the entire city was ablaze. That green flame hissed. It danced madly and seductively, so that it could swallow this world.

  The train arrived. It took me away, from one high tower of green flame to another, then beyond.

  Right now, I’m leaping through space on a spaceship. As for Hull, not long ago, I received his voicemail. He told me he’s already amputated both of his hands. Now, even though he remembers me, he’s no longer in pain. Brother, I’m on my way home, a complete person.

  ላሊበላ ፡ አለመ ከ ገብርኤል ቴዎድሮስ

  Lalibela

  Gabriel Teodros

  ላሊበላ: la·li·be·la

  (noun)

  1. A town in Northern Ethiopia, famous for its eleven monolithic rock-cut buildings (how they were built is unknown).

  2. (Amharic) A given name, meaning “even the bees recognized its sovereignty”.

  ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPIA. Present Day.

  The key was hidden in plain sight. In twisted metal and shapes within shapes. In fractals and complex geometric patterns people just accepted as religious symbolism. They called it a cross, but it was no crucifix. The truth was buried generations deep and kept there by nothing but a common belief. Most people wore a variation of it around their neck. Some had it sewn into fabric. Like the history of all humanity, it was buried in Ethiopia under nothing but a thin layer of dust.

  His appearance started as a tiny piece of metal that appeared in the rubble on the side of a road. Insignificant, barely noticeable. The metal multiplied itself and then multiplied itself again, growing in the same pattern of what people would, then recognize as a Meskel. Soon it stood upright, and it grew taller and taller as light bled through every opening in the pattern. When it was tall enough for him to pass through, an old man appeared from the light, holding onto the cross. When he was fully present, the light was gone. He seemed out of time, wearing all white the way a monk would.

  Cars sped by, people walked past, and donkeys carrying wood scurried about, seemingly oblivious to a human t
hat just appeared out of thin air.

  “You can’t just expect us to wait forever,” a young man yelled at the elder in the overcrowded Addis Ababa traffic. “Either move on or get out of my way!”

  Gebre Mesqel Lalibela had had quite the journey and was understandably shaken up. In his time, Ethiopian technology allowed his people to build computers, teleportation devices, starships, and even a spaceport in the highlands of Roha. There people lived in buildings on top of buildings that were all carved from a single rock. There were many people that he loved that he had to say goodbye to as they went on trips to distant galaxies, knowing he may never see them again. Yet nothing he saw, then compared to the chaos surrounding him now. In this new capital of the country he ruled over 800 years earlier, what he saw made him wish time machines were never invented.

  The air now smelled like a black pepper, and the sky was covered by a smoke that didn’t move. It was different than clouds, different than a fire, and it made it hard for him to breathe. The streets were crowded with moving vehicles that coughed up this poison and people and animals and no logic in how it all fit together. There were huge palaces lined with people sleeping on the street. More vehicles than he could count, yet he still found people unable to walk, crawling between them.

  He leaned on the cross like it was the only thing holding him up, and thought, “How have we become so close and so distant at the exact same time?”

  መሰቀል ፡ me·s·ke·l

  (noun)

  1. (Ge’ez) A processional cross, there are four basic styles with hundreds of variations. It’s common uses are in church services, as prayer sticks, for exorcisms, and basic time travel.

  ROHA HIGHLANDS. 1141 E.C. (1148 AD)

  Lalibela’s mother often spoke of a swarm of bees that surrounded him just after she gave birth. Her heart stopped for a moment, thinking her baby would be stung to death; but the bees swarmed, surrounded, and then mysteriously left her child completely untouched. This was a signal to her that Lalibela was not hers alone. He would do great things, he would even lead the country. The bees had recognized his sovereignty.