by Craig Zerf
Afterwards Nathaniel felt much better as the carbohydrates picked up his energy levels.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘So I am deader than before. Where am I?’
The old man smiled. ‘A good question. Unfortunately one that is very difficult to answer, however, I shall make an attempt. But first, where do you think that you are?’
‘Judging by the two moons, another planet. Not Earth. But the architecture and the scenery seem Japanese. Or at least sort of Japanese. Perhaps some sort of holy retreat. Buddhist monks? And that is about as good a guess as I can come up with. So I ask again, where am I?’
‘You are not on another planet, as such,’ said the old man. ‘Nor are you in Japan. You are simply existing on a separate plane to the one that you were in, on Earth. The surroundings are a construct of your own mind. Your mind has constructed two moons in order to tell you that you are in a different place. You have created a tranquil environment in which to recover and to learn. Hence the cherry blossoms, the religious atmosphere, the plain food. My appearance.’
‘Your appearance?’ Questioned Nathaniel. ‘Who are you?’
‘We have met many times before,’ said the old man. ‘But those times your mind saw me as a creature of myth and legend. It constructed an effigy that was in conjunction with the information that you were receiving.’
Nathaniel nodded. ‘So,’ he said. ‘You are The Unicorn.’
‘Very quick,’ agreed the old man. ‘I was. I am.’
‘But now you are some sort of old Kung Fu master who shall guide me and teach me.’ said Nathaniel.
The old man nodded.
‘So what do I call you?’ Asked Nathaniel. ‘Master? Teacher? Sensei?’
‘I have many names, but you can call me Fulcrum.’
‘Why Fulcrum?’
‘Have you heard of a man called Archimedes?’
Nathaniel nodded. ‘Greek dude. Mathematician, lived real long ago.’
‘That’s the one,’ confirmed the old man. ‘He once said; Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it and I shall move the world. Well, I am that Fulcrum.’
‘And the lever?’ Asked the marine.
Fulcrum smiled. ‘You are the lever. And together we shall move the world.’
‘I see. So, have you done this sort of thing before?’
Fulcrum nodded. ‘Many, many times throughout human history.’
‘So how come I’ve never heard of you?’
‘Oh, you have,’ said Fulcrum. ‘But under many different names. I was once known as Anaxarchus. Under that name I tutored Alexander the Great.’
‘I thought that was Aristotle,’ countered Nathaniel.
‘You know your history,’ answered Fulcrum. ‘It is true, Aristotle tutored Alexander. As did Clearchus of Soli and Leonidas of Epirus. But Anaxarchus was Alexander’s personal friend. I was his companion throughout all of his campaigns. Together we moved the world. In the fifteen hundreds I was known as Jean de Chavigny, a close personal friend and advisor to Nostradamus. At another time I was Joshua Speed, confident and friend to Abraham Lincoln. For a few years I trod the boards as Henry Condell, William Shakespeare’s friend and muse. I can give many more examples,’ said Fulcrum. ‘But I am sure that you get the point. I have seen the birth of many great things and played a central role therein.’
‘And now it’s my turn,’ said Nathaniel.
‘Now it is your turn,’ acknowledged Fulcrum.
‘So what we do next?’
‘Next,’ answered Fulcrum. ‘I teach and you learn. It shall not be an easy road but it is a necessary one. Are you willing to learn?’
Nathaniel nodded.
‘Good. Now, development of the mind can be accomplished only when the body has been disciplined. We shall start with that. Follow me.’
Fulcrum stood up and left the room.
The Forever Man followed.
Chapter 33
Tad was now the leader of the Free State, or what was left of it. After the death of their king the people had unanimously called on The Little Big Man to lead them. In fact they had called on him to become king.
He had accepted the role of leader but had refused to be crowned. Instead he had hung the crown in his meeting room next to Nathaniel’s axe. They dominated the room with their presence, a solid reminder of their leader that was.
Over the last month Tad had reinforced the Antonine Wall with extra towers and barracks for the Vandal flyers. And the shorter length of the wall combined with its strategic position had kept the remaining humans alive as they were able to defend against the ensuing Orcs attacks.
When Nathaniel had insisted that they build the Antonine Wall, taking men from the defense of Hadrian’s Wall, people had obeyed but there had been much muttering. They wondered why their leader had requested such folly. And why he had done so at such a crucial time. Now, however, his far sighted order followed by his heroic death and subsequent disappearance had razed The Forever Man to the level of a demigod in the eyes of his people.
When Tad had accepted the position of leader of the new Free State, thereby leaving his position of head of the army, he had done so under one condition. And that was him being able to appoint his successor as head of defense. People had agreed and the Little Big Man had not hesitated in appointing Orc master sergeant Kob, thereby elevating him to the rank of general.
There was no opposition to Kob’s appointment, his heroic attempt to save Nathaniel, carrying his burning body back in his arms and suffering third degree burns himself, was still fresh in people’s minds. The Orc was a hero and the people told him that he had been accepted as an honorary human. Kob argued, in his usual blank faced way, that he would rather accept the humans as honorary Orcs.
Tad had then put Roo and Sam, the leader of the walking people, in charge of food and housing. Roo had recommended setting up a collective farming and living system that he called Gatherings.
Each Gathering would consist of around one hundred extended family units, including siblings, grandparents, uncles and aunts. This equated to Gatherings of between six hundred and one thousand people. Roo considered this to be the optimal size for a Gathering to work as a semi-autonomous unit.
Each Gathering would allocate farm work, hunting, cloth production, building and so forth to various different families who would then specialize in those occupations. Meals would be taken in communal halls. Child care, lessons and discipline would be carried out by groups allocated to the task which would leave the parents free to concentrate on building their community or providing food.
Twenty percent of all combat ready members were allocated to wall defense on a full time basis and these members could be rotated if need be.
All people in the Gatherings were allocated a minimum of three hours free time a day during which they were encouraged to concentrate on military skills ranging from actual combat through to tracking, study of tactics or the practicalities of fletching or blade making.
When the call was given, then each Gathering would send all of their able bodied combatants to obey the call. No differentiation was made between men and women. The gathering had its own military structure from sergeants up to lieutenants. When pulled together into an army, an appointed captain was put in charge of three gatherings which formed a Division. Three of these Divisions were termed a Battalion and a colonel would be put in charge of each Battalion.
The Vandals kept up a constant air patrol along the wall, ensuring that any Orc attacks were repotted well in advance. Without them Tad was convinced that the Humans would not have survived and they would be forever indebted to the flying creatures.
It was taking time and effort to institute the new way of living but, on the whole, it seemed to bode well. People were happy and the system worked.
Tad was not convinced that it was the way to live forever but, for the foreseeable future, the discipline and regulation was necessary for humanity’s ongoing survival.
The Little Big
Man massaged his temples and drew in a deep breath. He was exhausted but so was everybody else. The constant work and alertness pushed everyone to their limits and there was never any chance of respite.
Vigilance was their watchword and hard work was their way of life. Weapons of war were humanity’s new art form and the wielding of said weapons was their new dance.
The front door to Tad’s small house banged open and he heard the rap of running feet. Immediately his face bloomed into a wide smile, his tension headache forgotten as Clare and Stephanie barreled into the room.
‘Hi, dad,’ they both greeted in unison. Clare handed him an arrow, a full length cloth yard shaft with goose feather fletching.
‘I made this for you,’ she said.
Tad held it up to his eyes and checked it closely. It was a fantastic job. Well made with Clare’s usual care and attention to detail.
‘I did this,’ chimed Stephanie, as she plunked a loaf of what was most probably bread on the table. It was lopsided and had not risen properly and the one end was slightly scorched. Unlike her sister, Stephanie treated her practical lessons as a necessary evil that should be finished as quickly as possible regardless of the quality of the end product. However, she excelled in book work, her reading and writing already at a level that rivaled the teachers themselves.
‘Have you eaten yet?’ Asked Clare.
Tad shook his head.
‘I’ll make us lunch,’ she continued. ‘I can use Stephanie’s bread to make cheese sandwiches.’
‘It won’t taste any good,’ said Stephanie. ‘My bread never does.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ argued Clare. ‘We’ll just cut off the burned bits.’
‘And the hard bits and the unbaked bits,’ added Stephanie. ‘There won’t be much left.’
‘There’ll be enough,’ said Clare as the two of them headed for the kitchen area.
Tad watched them go, his face still all agrin, their mere presence a balm for his dog-tired mind and body.
Chapter 34
Nathaniel’s body had literally turned blue. He had been standing under the waterfall since sunrise. Eight hours ago. The sheer volume of water almost overwhelmed him, making it difficult to breath and almost impossible to stand as the tons of water pummeled his back and shoulders. But the cold was the worst part of the ordeal. The water was below freezing and small shards of ice were mixed with it. Only the rapid water movement was keeping it from freezing solid.
When Fulcrum had first led The Forever Man out to the waterfall and bid him stand under it he had lasted less than a minute. It was simply totally debilitating. When a human body is immersed in freezing cold water it immediately starts to shut down. Some victims die within minutes due to loss of breath or heart failure. Stronger, fitter people will last longer. But no one will last as long as one hour before severe hypothermia sets in and organ shut down begins.
Initially, Nathaniel had attempted to draw heat in from his surrounds, using the pulse power to heat the waster up. But Fulcrum has snapped at him, telling him that he was not there to perform parlor tricks.
‘Look into yourself, Nathaniel,’ he had urged. ‘This is not about magiks, it is about you.’
The marine was baffled. How was he meant to stand under the water without either dying or simply stepping out?
Fulcrum had simply told him that he had to stand under the waterfall all day and he would not be allowed to proceed any further in his training until he did so.
So, every morning, The Forever Man would rise before the sun, take a simple breakfast of plain rice and green tea and proceed to the waterfall.
And then he would force himself to stand under the freezing water until severe hypothermia set in and he died.
He would wake later, back in his bed, wrapped in furs, his head throbbing like a jackhammer. Next to him a meal of broth and rice and tea. He would eat. Fulcrum would enter the room and talk until nightfall.
He would sleep.
The next morning he would go back to the waterfall and die again.
And even though he tried his hardest, willing himself to live through the experience, he never lasted more than one hour.
One evening Fulcrum entered the room and sat down cross legged opposite Nathaniel as he had done for the past sixty-two nights.
‘Albert Einstein once said to me, to do the same thing, over and over again and to expect different results, is the very definition of insanity.’
‘It’s impossible to do,’ mumbled Nathaniel. ‘A human body simply can’t stop itself freezing. If you allowed me to use the power to heat myself up then it would be easy.’
Fulcrum shook his head. ‘In the year 2000, before the pulse, a magician called David Blaine encased himself in ice for over sixty five hours and lived. The Shingon Buddhists stand for many hours under ice cold waterfalls in temperatures of minus three degrees. So it is possible.’
‘Well then tell me how to do it,’ said Nathaniel.
Fulcrum shook his head. ‘No. Look inside yourself. You can do it and you will do it. We shall try again tomorrow. I shall pick you up at sunrise.’
And that sunrise had been eight hours ago.
That morning Nathanial had entered the waterfall and, instead of fighting the cold he accepted it. He let it flow through him, concentrating his energy into a kernel in the center of his being, apart from all else. An entity in itself. A reactor that he could call into service at a later stage.
And then he let his mind go free, leaving his body almost entirely, simply keeping a simple spark of life ready to fire back up when he returned.
Fulcrum called him after ten hours by standing on the bank and beckoning. Nathaniel brought his consciousness back into his body and then forced the kernel of energy to expand through him. The cold came smashing back, freezing his brain, his blood and his inner organs. But he commanded his legs to move and, with shaking footsteps, he staggered from the water.
Fulcrum threw a fur around the marine’s shoulders.
‘Well done, Nathaniel,’ he said. ‘You have opened the gateway to your education.’
The Forever Man didn’t say anything. All conversation precluded by the chattering of his teeth.
The next morning when he woke, instead of dry rice, he found a bowl of fish stew, freshly squeezed fruit juice, dark bread and preserves. A veritable feast.
When he had finished the door was opened and, instead of Fulcrum, another ancient man walked in. He was attired in a similar fashion to Fulcrum and his hair and beard were the same, although longer and thinner. He bowed to Nathaniel and then gestured for him to follow.
The marine rose and went with the ancient man. The man walked with the aid of a staff, a long gnarled length of unpolished oak about seven feet long, almost two feet taller than the man himself. They followed the stream for about a mile and then stopped.
The old man pointed at a wooden post. It was standing upright, around Nathaniel’s shoulder height. About six inches in diameter, the top slightly convex. A shallow dome shape. When Nathaniel took a closer look he could see that the top of the pole had been greased with some sort of animal fat.
The old man tapped the top of the pole with his staff and spoke for the first time.
‘Stand on here. One foot only.’
Nathaniel laughed. ‘Yeah, sure. That’s impossible, it’s greased up and it’s a dome.’
The marine didn’t even see the ancient man move; he simply felt the crack of the oak staff against his head and felt the blood run down into his eyes.
‘Stand here,’ repeated the man as he tapped the pole again.
‘How the hell did you move so fast?’ Asked Nathaniel in amazement.
‘Not so fast,’ replied the ancient man. ‘You just slow. Now stand on pole.’
Nathaniel shook his head, walked up to the pole and attempted to climb onto it. But the shape and the grease defeated him.
The old man poked him in the back with his staff. ‘Get up. Stand. One foot.’
&
nbsp; ‘Hey, old dude,’ snapped Nathaniel. ‘Quit poking me with that stick or I’ll smack you around a bit.’
‘Ha!’ Exclaimed the ancient one. ‘In your dreams, snail boy.’ The staff whistled through the air and connected with the marine’s shoulder.
Once again Nathaniel didn’t see it coming, even though he was waiting for it.
‘Okay. I’ll try again.’ Nathaniel took a run and jumped up onto the top of the pole, slipped and came crashing down. This time the staff connected with the back of his head.
‘Quit it.’
‘Stand on pole.’
‘Why?’ Asked Nathaniel.
‘Do you wish to learn?’ Countered the old man.
‘Yes.’
‘Well then,’ continued the old man. ‘Stand on pole.’
This time the staff cracked against Nathaniel’s shins.
By the time the two suns started to sink below the mountain, Nathaniel was as battered and bruised and bleeding as if he had fought a battle.
He had still not managed to gain the top of the pole.
He limped home with the ancient man and his oaken staff. When they got to Nathanial’s residence the old man bowed.
‘Endurance is one of the most difficult disciplines, but it is to the one that endures that the final victory comes.’ He jabbed Nathaniel one more time with the point of his staff. ‘You may call me, Caritas. I shall see you tomorrow morning; we will continue your training.’
Chapter 35
Milly held up her hand. ‘Enough,’ she said. ‘I shall pass judgment. Will the accused stand.’
A young man stood up. His wrists were manacled together, as were his ankles. His one eye was swollen shut and his hair stood up in jagged spikes, fashioned there by dried blood.
‘This court of law finds you guilty of both sedition and the worship and advocation of the false God,’ proclaimed Milly. ‘As such you shall be taken from this court and hung by the neck until dead. Do you have any last words?’
‘There is no crueler tyranny than that which is perpetuated under the shield of law and the name of justice,’ answered the man.