Stone Of Matter

by B L Barkey

  “Yes, a wonderful analogy! And tell me, Jenny. Does it offend you that you are the canvas, and not the painter?”

  Ammon watched her expression change clearly from one of excitement to shear puzzlement.

  “Of course not. I think it is beautiful that we have different parts to play. We must come together to create. It takes both powers to do so. And for me to be the substance of infinite possibility before creation? It brings more life to something I heard once. ‘If a woman would tell the man he can paint her body, and the man tell the woman that she his is entire universe, then both would be happy and growing forever’.”

  Coming out of her reverie, her face reddened. But, then it returned to the normal color. Then she finished. “I love my role in it as a woman, maybe because I understand it. Why would I want anything else?”

  “A fine question,” Kodin said, raising his finger. “But we will find that, if we read of the ancient world, just before the Great Fire, this was one of the greatest conflicts in society. The symbolic roles of men and women were so jumbled and confusing that there was much less creation in the world all around.

  "Instead, there was destruction. Some even say it was a strong catalyst to the overall catastrophe of that era. It resulted in many civil wars, which plays well into our theme of a country destroying itself from within. We can fight it, and we can be offended by it. But in the end, it’s just the way of things.”

  A moment of deep thought and awe rested over the classroom as all of their minds traveled the different facets of time back to that era.

  After what seemed like a long while, a boy named Borelius raised his hand near the front. “Master, will you tell us more of what you mean when you speak of ‘the way of things’?”

  Many of his fellow students gave him a weird look, yet he did not back down. Ammon thought he knew the answer, then wondered what Kodin’s own answer would be to the question.

  “Borelius, thank you for asking me that. So many know me for it, yet never bother to ask, assuming they know my meaning.”

  Kodin took a sip of water from the bottle that always hung from his hip.

  “I’ll keep this short, for I know most of you are ready to head out for the Equilibria game this afternoon. Along with your ‘secret’ bonfire tomorrow. Alright, so.”

  He stood to pace along the front wall, his hands clasped behind his back. Ammon knew then that this was Master Kodin’s main interest. This was the topic he held dearest in his heart. His magnum opus. The fruit from his most cherished tree, cared for and loved through countless hours of research.

  “In my own personal studies, I have exhausted many different avenues. At the end of each of these avenues, I found similar things. There were either reckless theories created to hold the place for better theories to come, or else there truly seemed to be nothing else beyond it.

  “In the study of physical laws, we seem to be bound in space and time. For as long as we are in this world, we will be beneath the constant speed of light, and moved forward with the constantly progressing time.

  “In the study of biology, we can break down all matter to a particle so small it is impossible to see. We call this the atom, and it is truly remarkable. Yet there’s still an unexplainable void in between atoms that keep them from collapsing in on one another. Why can they not be any smaller? What is in that in-between? Similarly, looking at the massive living objects in our planetary system, we can see many different celestial bodies, with no real idea of what lies in the in-between, and what keeps all of space expanding outward.

  “Even in the studies of human relationships! Why is it that we ignore and torture each other when we are together, yet we lament in unbearable agony when we are apart? It seems to make no sense other than this. That is just the way it is. That is the world we live in.

  “And so came my theory of the ‘Wayothe’. It is a something even finer than the atom, entirely invisible to the human eye. It is the finest matter, perhaps a dusting from the stars. In this comes a parallel motion in our world to this world of finer particles, all conducted into one massive symphony, guided by someone from somewhere.”

  There was a pause. It was a silence where one might feel insecure, or even nervous about their recent declaration of belief. But not Kodin. He seemed more sure and radiant than ever, hoping to truly share with others his truth, as if it were as sweet as fresh-baked cookies.

  “As you can see, there are still many holes in my theory,” Kodin said, both quiet and bright. “Many unknowns. As there are in all new theories. My point is this. It’s acceptable, once we reach these points in our studies, to just understand that the happenings are what they are. It is what it is. This is the way of things.

  “Can it be explained further? It cannot. It’s the way of things. Atom. Any smaller? No. The way of things.

  “Wayothe.”

  “There were even philosophical theories about how our entire planet was really one marble to another giant being on another massive planet, and that even a marble in our world was another planet entirely. The Law of Relativity, I believe it was called. All things are relative to another. I also call this the Wayothe.

  “It doesn’t explain much, except that there are things in our world that are unexplainable, yet still possible. This chance, or coincidence, or space that holds everything together, is the Wayothe. And thus, my saying. The way of things. I believe in it, mainly for its flexibility. For it is always expanding, never proven wrong, just expanded outward to make room for newly discovered truths. Always expanding, just as our universe, and just as our minds should.”

  Ammon raised his hand for a final time then, sinking low into his chair slightly to indicate that his comment would be quick.

  “Yes, Ammon?”

  “Aren’t there studies from the old world which state atoms are actually made of smaller things, like protons, neutrons, and electrons? And then in turn, each of these are made from smaller stuff they called quarks?”

  Kodin’s grin widened.

  “You speak truthfully. Though, we haven’t discussed subatomic particles in class. And so you swiftly demonstrate the flexibility of the Wayothe.”

  Kodin’s eyes lingered on Ammon for a second longer, before looking to the entire class.

  “I’ll bring us back to the original topic, to wrap it all into a pretty package. The way things are can be understood as the way they are, at first. But it is a wonderful thing to keep learning of how these things are. And by learning how and what things are, we can begin to truly understand them and use them. This leads to understanding the creation of worlds. To help us create our own worlds. And so, I ask you one final question, and with it you are dismissed to ponder the Wayothe.

  “If you gained all the power and knowledge required to create a world, why would you stop at creating just one?”

  III

  The finer particles. Too fine for the human eye to see. Ammon wondered on Kodin’s words, for they had struck a chord within him which he had never felt before. To create our own worlds. The worlds they had spoken of last class. Books, homes, families, art. He had explored his own avenues of study, to the same conclusions that Kodin had mentioned. The boundaries of space and time. The possibilities of endless worlds smaller and greater than Proelum, all depending on perspective. When truly attempting to comprehend these thoughts, it was easy to understand how someone could lose their minds. Ammon had learned to accept some things on belief without proof before. But this idea of Wayothe. It is what it is, as Kodin had simplified. It was a treasure to behold.

  Mikael had left right after class to meet up with Elizabeth before the Equilibria game. They had apparently had an argument the day before and he was hoping to comfort her. “I don’t understand why it upset her,” Mikael had said. Ammon had then answered with the light, floating tone of a summer breeze, “Ahhh, young Cephasonian. Women are a mystery. We are just to accept them, for it is the way of things.”

  Mikael paused, making a goofy face. “The Wayothe
.”

  They had both laughed, understanding that even though there was humor in it, there was also truth. Ammon even found some solace in that, the Wayothe actually seemed to apply to the complexities of women. Flexible and ever-shifting. Being just what they were.

  Ammon was now walking in the sunlight, taking in some fresh air before the game. He was feeling peaceful, though his mind occasionally revisited the events from two days before. The few words Maison had left him with. ‘I can’t remember’ he had said. It seemed like a plea for help. A cry of admittance that had been held back for far too long.

  The words had seemed to surprise even Maison as they were spoken, and that was right when the expressionless mask had reappeared. Ammon was worried about his island brother. For in the end, they were all family on the island. Ammon did indeed have his own mother, father, brother, and even best friends. But truly, the rest were all his family too. It was a difficult truth to always hold in his heart, especially when his immediate family needed help first. But that seemed okay to Ammon.

  He walked along the cobbles, waving to those who passed him. Some wished him luck in the game in a few hours. Others congratulated him on his outburst in Bozolf’s class. “I could never say something that brave,” a boy named Jaen had said. Ammon had smiled and replied, “I’m still not sure if it was bravery or stupidity. I guess we will know if I get banned from the Trials.”

  Ammon walked on. He headed north, along the west side of the Wind Caves and the Lake of Light, then wrapping around their northern borders. He liked it best out here. Everything seemed still. Quiet. At peace. The North Hills were rolling in reverent tribute to their mountainous brothers above them, though still joyous in their own role of the island. Knee-high grasses swayed with the winds, giving the gusts a canvas and a pen with which to write words and letters to which no human could yet understand. Someday, Ammon hoped to truly speak with the wind.

  His mind began to wander to the things he had seen at the Whirlpool. Somehow, inexplicably so, they seemed to be connected. The diseased spots on the fish. The intended murder in Maison’s eyes. Even the talks with the Arcanums earlier that week about morality and decay.

  That word. Temptation. Ever since the Whirlpool, Ammon had been feeling something else within himself. As if it had entered him like water rushing up his nose. It was the idea of freedom. If he were truly free, he could desire anything and make it happen. For his entire life, he had seen the larger picture. The cause and effect of life. Over the last week, his window of sight seemed to be shrinking. It was more difficult to see the big picture.

  He thought of the sign that had been posted on the trail before the Whirlpool. It was a warning. ‘Danger – Whirlpool. No swimming allowed here’. It told someone walking by that if they took that path, that’s what would lie ahead. Ammon could have decided to turn on that path, or continue forward. They had continued forward, only for him to take an even more dangerous route to the same place.

  Today, as Ammon recalled the sign, it seemed like a restriction. It lasted for just a moment, before fading back into the reality of things. It was a gentle warning of the truths that lied ahead. It was a tender mercy. So why did I just think of it as a restriction? This new friction in his mind made him feel overwhelmed, and so he breathed in deep and breathed in nature for a time.

  After smelling the cool autumn air, and spitting out the floating dandelion seeds that had drifted into his mouth, his mind again returned to the subject. Even after I was at the foot of the cliff, I still had many different choices to make.

  I was free to ignore Chalice’s pointless challenge. I was free to swim somewhere else. I was free to walk along the beach and pick up seashells. I was free to return to Sadie, and watch the sunset with her. I was free to go home. I was also free to blatantly ignore the sign on the trail, and all the warnings from my friends and family, and to swim in the dangerous place. But I got lucky.

  For after I had decided to go that far, if the Whirlpool had captured me in its grasp, I would have been pulled under, and left with very few choices. Perhaps, only one choice, which would have been to not breathe in water, up until my body took over and forcibly made that final decision for me. I had countless better decisions to make before that moment. Yet one pulled me closer to that whirlpool, and I followed.

  Is that just the way of things? The Wayothe? Is that how we are made as humans? Yet up until that day, I had never been nearly tempted enough to want that. Was it the challenge of Chalice? No, it couldn’t have been. His reckless challenges were not to blame. For I had still decided for myself to accept the challenge. But this does not seem natural. It seems to come from somewhere else. Not from the Wayothe. Not from the in-between. But from the outside…

  He turned back along the trail, heading south. As he came closer to the Leviticum, there were smaller groups of people scattered out in the grass for picnics and naps. It was a common place for some to relax in between classes. He was still quite a distance away from the Leviticum, when he heard a whimper. It was loud and distressed, as if slipping through fingers held over a creature’s mouth. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound, an image appearing in his mind. A dog. Tobias.

  Ammon’s heart raced. He scanned the hills to the northeast, back and forth. And that’s when he saw it.

  Two dark figures knelt low in the golden, swaying grasses. Many other heads had also turned at the noise, though most just reacted by shielding their loved ones or starting back towards the Leviticum. Ammon sprinted towards the shapes with the complete numbness that accompanies a shot of adrenaline to the heart.

  Another whimper came rolling over the hills, along with another image of Tobias, clearer and more certain. Ammon was scared. For his pup, as well as for what he might do to whatever was hurting his animal. My best friend. I’ll kill any man who hurts him.

  He was halfway there when one of the figures sat up and looked directly at him. It was hooded, dark, featureless. After another second, it swept up the hills without a single undulation in its step, as if riding the waves of grass like water. Its speed was incredible, though Ammon knew he could match it if he wanted. And so he did, but instead he aimed for his pup. A few moments later, he knelt down beside his Tobias.

  He was bloody and ragged. He was not breathing. He was dead.

  After a few breaths of shear horror, Ammon’s eyes saw clearly what was before him. His fear subsided, and his vision grew less hazy. The creature before him was not Tobias after all.

  A feeling of relief swept through Ammon so great then that he almost crumpled to the ground in tears. He had dreamt of his beloved puppy dying a horrible death before, only to wake up to Tobias curled right beside him, unharmed and snoring. It was just like that, though amplified a thousand-fold.

  The feeling of relief remained, though it was diminished when Ammon realized what the corpse really was. It was a wolf pup. Much of its defining features were sliced and mangled, such as its eyes, canine fangs, and even its tale. The killer who had fled the scene was undoubtedly responsible. But what could be the possible motive of doing something so horrid to this creature?

  Wolves were sometimes stand-offish to those on the island, but they were never aggressive. There would be no motive for anyone to even kill a wolf for food, let alone for the sheer pleasure of taking life. The twisted fulfillment in forcing one’s will upon another.

  The trust that the animals had on the island for the humans… it had never been so betrayed. What measure of evil it must take to abuse the trust and power given so freely from another living creature? Ammon thought. Holding the creature in place after it had approached in trust, only to throw it into the abyss…

  Again, Ammon had a creeping feeling slide up his back, to the point where he even looked behind him, falling on the ground with the skip of a heartbeat. These are all connected somehow, he thought. The disease, the desires, the doubt… the cold-blooded death… Ammon knew immediately the gravity of the situation he was in. He had seen th
e first act of cold-blooded murder to ever have been committed on Cephas Island.

  Ammon saw three people approaching from the Leviticum, though he could not make out their features. Ammon turned back to the pup, seeing if there was anything else he could do to save it. There was nothing. It was dead.

  He heard the voices before he turned back. Thinking the situation was already too serious for anything else to surprise him, he was proven wrong. The voice he heard was from Bozolf. He turned, then saw the face of Chalice as well. It seemed inevitable then. He had to be in a dream. They were accompanied by one other person, a young man who had probably seen the entire thing play out as well. Ammon thought his name might be Jacob.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Bozolf called out.

  Ammon was about to answer, and then something clicked in his mind. The stature of the figure that had fled the scene. The eyes of it. The murder…

  “Maison,” Ammon whispered.

  “Explain yourself!” Bozolf demanded.

  Ammon looked at him, then at Chalice.