by B L Barkey
Laughter escaped Ammon’s lips like a bursting mango thrown against rocks, unable to contain himself. Lumena was also laughing at the most fascinating word in the world to children of her age. “Mama, I poop!” she said. Celia covered her mouth. “Yes, dear. I’m aware. You don’t hold anything back either.” Lumena didn’t fully understand what her mother had said, but laughed anyway.
Celia was the only one not laughing at this point, though she was grinning. “Ok children,” she emphasized, looking right at her husband.
“What?!” Terra cried.
“Back to our research.” And she continued.
“Animals of the land and air lived in perfect harmony with one another, sharing even their nests and homes. Though animals are still not aggressive to one another, and feast off the grass and leaves, they are growing more separated into their different habitats. Just as they used to be before the Fire.”
A world without bird poop would be an empty world indeed, Ammon thought. And much more pleasant. Birds would often paint his bedroom’s glass roof white, with what seemed to be their form of abstract art, laughing through squawks as they flew away. It was not his favorite thing in the world. He decided to keep this thought to himself though, lest he further distract from the intellectual conversation.
“The insects we have rediscovered lately, the annoying ones like flies and mosquitos, were not attracted to humans, and instead avoided them at all costs.
“There was no disease.”
This word held Ammon’s attention.
“What is disease?” he asked.
“We are fortunate not to know it on our island. Not yet. It is a disorder of structure or function that results from tiny organisms that exist only to disrupt. These organisms do not live on our island, though I’m afraid they may someday soon. Disease is not normal. It is chaos where there was once order. It is awful, and I hope you never know it.
“Similar to this is decay. You know how you can walk the trails of the forests, picking ripe fruit off the ground weeks after it might have fallen, only for it to be even more delicious and ripe? That was not the case in the ancient world. Fruit would fall from a tree and decay within a day or two. It would begin to shrink, fade and smell awful. To eat of it would surely give you a disease, which would make you ill and even kill you.”
Ammon shuddered. “The world before the Great Peace sounds dangerous. Full of sadness,” he said.
“It was,” said Celia.
“It was, indeed. And it did not become that way overnight. The process was gradual. It was like a sunset stretched out over thousands of years. The darkness fell upon the world over time, unnoticed. We forgot important truths, right up until the Great Fire. There were always some who realized they had forgotten things, who then sought knowledge on the other side of the veil. Just like us. Many of these people are the same ones you hear of in history. From the Great Fire to the start of the Great Peace, the veil was lifted.
“We remembered everything. We restored our world to its paradisiacal glory. We remembered our true identity. We brought back all that was good from the ancient world, along with necessary changes to remove all death and disease. Everything became what it truly was, what it was meant to become. All served the purpose it was created for. The way of things was found and obeyed again.”
“As you might have guessed by now, there was no death. Not like we know it now. Instead of losing animation and the breath of life in this world, humans and animals would shine brilliantly, before seeming to step behind a curtain and disappear. A curtain much like the veil. It was the end of an act. When a person fulfilled their measure of purpose in this life, they stepped out without pain or confusion. They had full warning and understanding of it.”
“But where did they go?” Mikael asked.
“Home!” Lumena shouted, beaming brightly.
They all fell silent, wondering at the coincidence of Lumena.
“We will go home soon, sweetheart,” said Celia.
“No!” cried Lumena. “Papa and Nonna. They went home!” she said again, impatient at having to repeat herself.
Terra spoke after a short pause. “We do believe there is a life after this one. It is a life of spirits, very similar to the world that, we believe, existed before this world. It’s as if we stepped into this world for a short time, to learn and grow, before stepping out once more.”
“That’s similar to what Master Kodin teaches,” Ammon added. “He always mentions the life before.” They all nodded.
“Yes, Kodin is a very enlightened man. No doubt he knows and believes many of the same things we have just shared with you.”
“But you are saying there is evidence for a life after this one, right?” Mikael asked again. He seemed so earnest on this point. Does he think about this kind of stuff often, too? Ammon wondered at his brother.
“Not necessarily evidence. It still takes a certain degree of belief. Faith, if you will. It takes faith in the words of our fathers and mothers, as well as in that feeling inside of us that seems to resonate when truth is spoken. It’s like when two instruments complement each other in a musical piece.
“They seem to sync up, becoming something greater than the individual parts. Truth resonates within us, for the knowledge of the true way of things is somewhere inside of us, though we cannot visualize or recall it with ease. Even these things serve as a sort of ‘evidence’ of something else besides this physical existence.
“However, you will never find something concrete favoring one side or the other. It will always require some sort of faith, whether in books, spiritual leaders, or scientists. That just seems to be the way of the world. Of our world. That’s exactly it. We believe there was concrete evidence right before our eyes during the Great Peace. It was very clear how things were at that time. But now, we have returned to a time of faith.
“We vaguely remember how our grandparents and great-grandparents left us. We remember your grandparents’ departure, Jonah. There was a Gathering, only for the elderly folk. It was a celebration, though there were many goodbyes. Even though we were saying goodbye to our dearly loved ones, it was not a sad thing, but a joyous one.
“Celia and I only remember peace and happiness in those moments. I remember knowing we wouldn’t see them tomorrow, nor for many tomorrows after that. Yet it was happy. And I didn’t wonder about it. I just accepted it as the way, as one watches the moon wax and wane. It’s curious, but the entire intricacies of how or why it occurs are not sought after. It is beautiful, and it is. That was good enough.”
They all began to circle back to the glass cube of the Ansemithum, lost in their own thoughts. The conversation had become a canvas of wonderful shapes and colors, splattered here and there by one another.
“In the Great Peace, we knew how we were created,” said Terra, scrunching his nose as if in pain. “We knew our creator. We knew the full extent of who we once were, who we are, and who we are meant to become, all at once.
“We knew why we were created. One note in the journals of our ancestors addresses this point. It says ‘we were created in order to become creators’. This is powerful, though not very enlightening. It’s hard to say if this was a personal belief of one person, or a truth amongst them all.”
They walked in silence for a bit, allowing it all to soak in. Ammon’s heart was racing in his chest. He wanted to record this entire conversation. To never let even one word fade from memory. But even now he could feel most of it slipping away from him, as if it were willfully being concealed by something inside of him. No wonder their ancestors wrote them down, he thought. It seems our minds are programmed to forget.
He could remember the veil. The veil was the cause of this. He would remember the thing that caused else to be forgotten.
The glass cube came into view at the foot of the North Hills. Celia spoke with a tone of conclusion.
“The last thing we want to share with you boys, at least for today, is this. We as humans used to have a heightened foresight, or
wisdom as we call it now. It came with our knowledge of the truth of things. I’ll demonstrate this to you with a few questions.
“So, what happens if you steal something from the records of the Leviticum? Let’s say, a glisc about a history of the ancient world.”
Ammon answered. “You are taking from another and hurting them, limiting the knowledge someone else might share with you. And therefore, you are also hurting yourself. It’s dishonest. It ruins your own authenticity of emotion.”
“And many more things. Yes, perfect Ammon,” said Terra. “Good. Now, what happens if you insult someone while seeking to hurt them?”
Mikael spoke, sounding a bit confused. “You are probably feeling insecure, putting them down to feel better. But then I would quickly realize it’s making me feel worse, and that by apologizing we will both feel better for it. But why would we do these things? What’s the point?”
“Exactly!” cried Terra. “That is exactly the point we are trying to make. You can see what these things would do before you do them. You can match the result to the cause. You understand perfectly where they come from, and where acting on them in a negative way will take you. You have wisdom in these things. So, do you still have the desire to do them, knowing they will hurt you?”
“Of course not,” Jonah answered for them, knowing his friends were confused.
“Yes. That is wisdom. That is foreknowledge. It is still very strong with our people. That’s why we’re a peaceful people, content to live so close to one another. We understand one another, as well as our own actions. We can understand and love one another. We were more perfect in this foreknowledge of the future, and even in our knowledge of the past and the now, during the Great Peace.
“But do not be mistaken. This has all faded with the new veil. The Final Veil, as we have come to call it. That’s a discussion for another day, but in short, we believe this will be the last veil to fall upon our minds and existence before… well. Before our entire planet passes on.”
“Passes on? You mean dies?” Ammon asked, incredulous.
“Nothing as terrible as that,” Celia said with a smile. “But with that, we must depart. We can continue this next week, if you’d like.”
“Oh heck yes!” said Mikael, throwing Lumena up into the air, catching her arms, and lowering her to the ground.
“Don’t go!” the little girl cried, wrapping her arms around Mikael’s leg.
“We’ll be back next week, little firefly. I’ll see you again soon.” He kissed the top of her head, soothing her soul just long enough for a butterfly to flutter by, catching her eyes and focus.
“Temptation,” Terra said, almost to himself, as if finally remembering something. “That’s what our ancestors called it. It existed in the ancient world, but was completely dismissed during the Great Peace.
“It was called ‘temptation’. It was the desire for things that hurt ourselves, without our knowing of what it would do to us. A desire to fulfill short-term hungers for pleasure, which then threatens long-term goals. Though we have the wisdom to overcome it now, to overcome it so fully that is practically doesn’t exist, it will return as the Final Veil falls upon us. Temptation. Be wary of it, but don’t think of it often. It is dangerous.”
Temptation, Ammon repeated in his mind. It seemed to be a word that created itself. It came into being ten times over when spoken even once. He diverted his attention from it, though it resisted. It was a strange feeling. Haunting. Pestering. Irritating.
Celia lightened the mood. “We have another basket of berries for each of you to take back to the Leviticum and share with your friends.” She disappeared, and Ammon found a question surfacing that he had often thought about. She returned shortly, handing them two small baskets.
“How do you two do it? How are you so happy together?” Ammon asked, gesturing at them both. A light played in Terra’s eyes then, and he looked at his wife with a smile. She looked back at him, and it seemed to Ammon they held another secret. It’s always this way with healthy couple, Ammon though with admiration. A secret unspoken.
Finally, Terra answered before he looked away from his beautiful, eternal bride.
“Well, there are many things, but ultimately there’s one thing we always remember.”
Celia came in then, as if on cue. “But since it was your parents who first shared this key with us, we suggest you ask them.”
“Their advice was just the nourishment and water to our planted and budding relationship. From there it has blossomed and grown into its own shape. The shape of us, together. There’s no other shape just like it.” Terra smiled. “Ask them.”
One word gently floated into Ammon’s mind, sending chills down his back. Spheres.
“Thanks again for coming,” Celia said softly. “You boys have no idea how much it means to us, to tell you about our crazy old-people theories.”
“Are you kidding?” said Ammon. “I love thinking and talking about this stuff. We will definitely be back soon.”
“So long boys,” Terra called to Ammon, Mikael, and Jonah as they walked back to the Leviticum.
A few moments later, they heard the patter of small feet behind them. Ammon heard it first, turning to meet it. It was Lumena.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said. “We have to go now but we’ll be back soon, okay?”
“No, you won’,” she said calmly. “But tha’s okay.”
She then grabbed his hand, pulling him down in such a way that was impossible to resist. He knelt down and turned her his ear, as if knowing exactly what to do. She then cupped her hands around her mouth and his ear, and whispered.
“Follow her eyes. In the snow. She was here, just now. She is the one who will guide you. Always, to remember.” He felt her smile on his ear. She spoke clear and cryptic, as if a century older.
And then she took off, spinning and giggling words of gibberish. Ammon stood there, his friends stepping further and further away.
“Ammon, you coming?” Mikael finally called.
And with that, Ammon ran after his friends, looking up to the darkening sky, and feeling as if the veil of forgetfulness had become just a little bit thinner.
Chapter XVII
Circles of Life
Threesday
It was expected of the younglings to start dating early in life. Finding someone to commit to would help bridle their passions, guide their futures, and progress the island family. Or so they were told. Yet the Levitians still supported those younglings who sought their callings first.
Around noon, Ammon met Mikael in the Centre for their double date. Mikael had said it was a surprise, going as far as to withhold the girl’s name. Ammon was only half-surprised to see Sadie sitting next to Elizabeth.
His heartbeat quickened, more from excitement than nerves. It was tough to distinguish between the two. His hands shook slightly so he stuck them in his pockets.
She jumped and flung her arms around him. He liked to think she saved the biggest hugs for him. It was probably true. It took them a while to let go, her breathing warming the nape of his neck, her laughter ringing in his ears as he told her jokes that came easy. Mikael cleared his throat just as they separated from each other and sat down. I owe Mikael big-time, thought Ammon. This is just what I needed.
Her scent was strong of lilies, her hair wavy and beautiful. Its blonde shine held new streaks of darker brown. It reached halfway down her back when not up in a bun, though both had their own appeal.
And here they were, spending quality time together for the second time that week. He knew she would hang out with other boys when he wasn’t around, but he tried not to think about that. He had other friends too, after all.
“Hey Liz, long time no see,” greeted Ammon.
“Right?” she said with mock surprise.
“We swam some laps together on Onesday,” said Ammon, seeing the confusion in Mikael’s and Sadie’s faces.
“Ahhh, I see how it is,” Sadie sang in her playful voice, scootin
g her chair away from him. Ammon then grabbed the seat of her chair and pulled her back. It had been only days since the Lake of Light, though it felt like ages
Liz turned towards Mikael and laced herself into his arms. She kept looking at Ammon, a cute smile on her face.
Mikael used to fall quick and hard for girls. And they would fall for him too. Lately, though, he was taking things slower, building genuine friendships with the girls before romancing. A few of his past relationships had ended in such ways differing little from fiery meteors striking straw fields.
Ammon had been through similar dating experiences, his last being a couple years before. He had zero intention of rushing into such things again. I’ve known Sadie for a long time though. She is different…
“So what’re you mastering again, Liz? I hear you have quite the green thumb,” Ammon said before taking a bite of leafy greens.
“Good memory! I am, planning to apprentice in the Gardens like my parents. I love fruit trees especially, and would like to crossbreed a few of them, if possible. All leaves call to me. Even the Clonem.”
And the Ansemithum? Ammon almost asked, before biting his own tongue. He winced, instigating a look from Sadie.
“Very cool. That sounds quite innovative,” Ammon responded.
“Meh meh innovative meh,” Sadie mocked. Ammon squeezed her knee again and she yelped.
“Mikael tells me you boys are preparing for the SG trials,” Liz continued. “How cool! We will definitely miss you though when you begin training. Huh Sadie?”
“Oh, I guess,” she said, looking up at the ceiling and smiling.
“How about you Sade, studies going well?” Ammon asked, unsuccessfully nudging her away with his elbow.
“Eh, yeah things are ok. I dunno. I’m not much for studying and reading books like you guys. I’ve been spending more time in the gym and in the Forest lately. Maybe I’ll just get married to a nice Guardian and have his babies.”