by Matt Snee
It was getting darker. Secure for the moment, Plerrxx went to sleep. Captain could not sleep. Tess explained that there was death-day, when the death-light was bright, and death-night, when it was low. No one could explain the light that emanated beneath the clouds of Jupiter. It just was because the god willed it.
Captain thought of one of his novels, “Treachery of the Satyr”. In it, he had told of a secret grove in Brooklyn, NY, where one summer a clan of satyrs interfered in the lives of two sailors on leave from the war, leading to philosophical consequences. It was part of his discourse on the relationship between gods and men. The Satyr in the story is both kind and cruel, delighting in the mistakes the two sailors made as they weaved their way across town. For the Satyr, mortals have but one use - to entertain the gods with their travails through merciless but ecstatic life. By the end, one sailor is dead, and the other's heart is broken while his leg has been amputated. They have put their faith in a god who betrays them.
“What are you thinking about?” Jennifer asked him, interrupting his thoughts. Tess had gone to check on Passion.
“Oh—one of my books.”
“ 'Treachery of the Satyr?' ”
“Yes,” Captain said, surprised. “How did you know?”
“I had the same thought a couple of hours ago. I keep thinking of how you described the Satyr's laugh.”
Captain himself laughed. “Me too!” Then his face took on a solemn look. “What now?”
“Now we have to cross a sea of hydrogen slush to a supposed island out there. On the island, the Shard awaits.”
“And Jon Jason is on his way?”
“Yes.”
Across the circle, Passion cried out in pain. Captain and Jennifer turned, sympathizing with the Delphiniums. The parturition seemed difficult in a wild, poisonous place such as this. Captain thought of Trust. One life for another?
Passion continued to moan - no anesthetics were administered in the Delphinium ritual it seemed. The women surrounded her, coaxing her, soothing her.
Jennifer turned back to Captain. “Crazy, isn't it? Sometimes I forget about… the wonders of life.”
“I know what you mean,” he said.
They watched as the Seer stood and came to them, standing over Jennifer with her frail body.
“You must go now.” She said.
“Okay,” Jennifer said, having already known this by herself.
“What?” Captain didn't understand.
“She must leave, while there is still time,” the Seer instructed. “She cannot wait. The hour grows dark.”
“You're not going by yourself!” Captain wouldn't allow it.
“I have to. That's what Jupiter wants.” Jennifer bit her lip. “I have to go alone. You have to stay here.”
“I won't let you go by yourself.” Captain clenched his fists again.
“There's no choice. You have to stay with the Delphiniums.”
“Anything can happen!”
“We have to do it this way,” she argued. “I have to go alone. This is my responsibility.”
Captain could feel the stark lightning of pain moving its way through his body. He couldn't lose her—he couldn't do this without her.
Calm and Wisdom quickly unfolded one of the gliders and then refolded it into a small canoe. They put together a paddle and a seat for her.
“You have to go in that?” Captain still couldn't let go of her.
“It's okay, Lewis,” Jennifer said. “Have faith.”
He didn't know how to answer that. How did he have faith in a deity that stood above man, but below God? What did such a thing consist of? How did it manifest?
“I'm going, and that's it,” Jennifer told him.
The Delphiniums put the canoe into the slush. Jennifer stepped into it, taking the paddle from Wisdom. She sat and looked back at Captain. “I'll see you soon.”
He watched helplessly as she paddled away.
* * *
Soon she disappeared into the darkness. Captain turned back to the Delphiniums, who continued to assist Passion. He couldn't imagine her agony.
Captain sat down near the fire, next to Plerrxx's still hibernating body. He looked away from the women to give them privacy. The air was cold, but the dream suit kept his body warm. He was sick of wearing it, but knew it was necessary. He wished for a second to be back on Earth, where everything, in retrospect, seemed easier. Looking up to the sky he saw more storm clouds bulging.
He felt a tap on his neck; it was the Seer.
“May I sit?” she asked. He nodded. She eased her old body down and faced him. Her blind eyes seemed to make contact with his.
“You did not want to let her go.” Her old voice was cracked but insistent.
“No, I didn't.”
“Tell me—what do you really know about Jennifer Pichon?”
“A lot. I know the stuff that matters.” He was in no mood for riddles or stories.
“Do you know she has been in the Death Dream before?”
“No.”
“When she was a child she was as brash as she is now, if not more so. I remember when she would come over during the winters; I watched even then.”
“You knew her?”
“I did. But she does not know me now. She has forgotten. I have not reminded her.”
“Why not?”
“Because it does not matter. Because I do not matter.”
“You Delphiniums are so intent on throwing your lives away.”
“No, no, that's not it at all,” the Seer told him. “We give our lives to our causes, to our friends, whenever it is necessary. We cast nothing aside. We immolate. You would for Jennifer, would you not?”
“Yes,” he acknowledged. “But I don't go around waiting for the moment to happen.”
“Neither do we. When it comes, we face it head on, just as Queen Eleanor did when she was killed. She gave. We survived because of her. Even a queen may be sacrificed for the life of the tribe.”
“I don't believe that,” Captain argued. “I can't believe that it's all predetermined.”
“It's not. I'm only saying the gods intervene, always invisible, unmoving around us, everywhere. I am never alone and neither are you. The spirits align around us like atoms.”
Captain swallowed what she had said. He kicked at the ground, still thinking of Jennifer. “I can't let anything happen to her.”
“You won't.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know you won't allow it.”
“I don't believe it.”
“Believe what you want, but know this. You two are linked, and that link cannot be broken.”
This sounded good to Captain. He hoped she was right.
“Tell me about Trust,” he said.
“Cammie? Cammie was a miracle. She liked to paint. Loved to swim. Her skills with a horse were extraordinary. She—she always wanted to go back to Earth, to find her brother.”
“Her brother?”
“Her twin.”
“Cammie was a twin too? Like Tess?”
“Not quite like Tess. But yes, she was a twin. She left her brother on Earth when she came to Jupiter and never got a chance to see him again.”
“She knew she was going to die?”
“I explained to her that she had been chosen by Jupiter, and by the Goddess. It is an honor. She had a choice; she chose to die, to give. We all give when we die.”
“Give what?”
“Many things.” The Seer's voice was sweet now.
Captain thought of his mother. He thought of sitting down next to her at dinner, driving her around in the car, and watching her through the kitchen window as she pruned her garden. She had given everything for him, over and over again.
“One day, you too will give,” the Seer instructed. “It will be your pleasure.”
Captain frowned. “As long as Jennifer is in danger, that's not going to happen.”
“Of course not.”
T
he Seer stood again. “It was nice speaking to you, Captain.” She said “Captain” as if it was his code name, such as the Delphiniums had.
He nodded but said nothing. She went back to the others, and he questioned what she had said. Disappointed, he realized she had told him nothing, only dropped riddles into his ears.
Tess stood and came over. “Not long now. It's happening.”
Passion screamed in pain. Everyone else was acting as if her wails were normal.
“Will it be twins?” he asked.
“Yes. A boy and a girl.”
“How will you take them back?”
“Going up is easier than diving down,” she said. “The wind will do all the work. We won't be fighting it on the way back. It will carry us.”
“What do you know about the island Jennifer is headed to?”
“I know Jennifer will face a trial. This isn't over.”
“What can I do?”
“Just guard over the women. That is what men do.”
He half-nodded and looked up to the light of Jon Jason's ship. “He will be here soon.” It was both a question and a chilling affirmation.
“Yes, he will.”
“You're not afraid?”
“I'm afraid of no man!”
They were hushed by more of Passion's cries. She was breathless, gasping and praying aloud.
“We should pray,” Tess told him.
Captain was completely blank. “How?”
“Pray. To Jupiter.”
“I don't think I can pray to a planet.”
“Planets are gods!”
“I could pray to God, my god,” he suggested.
“Your god does not intervene.”
“No—he does.”
“It's not going to hurt you. Just pray. Think of it as talking to something that's invisible who can hear your thoughts. Just speak, as you would to me.”
Captain shook his head. “I'm uncomfortable worshipping something like that.”
“Worship? No. Worshipping is for the Dunleavys and the others who pray to idols and money. They sacrifice things to themselves. It's disgusting. What I mean is just to talk. Bow your head in respect, and beg from something greater than you. It's not difficult. Unless you make it so.”
“Should I kneel?”
“Kneel, stand on your head—it doesn't matter. Just speak. He listens.”
She left him and went back to Passion's side. Passion continued to cry out as the Delphiniums held her hands and encouraged her vocally.
Captain grimaced to himself and tried not to look. Pray? He wondered. To Jupiter? He had never even prayed to his own God, whom he wasn't sure existed. He believed God to be quite different than what the Christians made him out to be. Instinct told him that God was loving, despite the hardness of the world. He could not imagine what kind of thing God was; he had to be everything, encompassing all, yet still breathing as the rest of us breathed; in synchronization and rotation. He emerged in both the sky and Captain's heart. That was all Captain knew.
Hello? He spoke to himself, looking for the presence of a deity. He believed that his God was there, as he pervaded everything.
Hello? Are you out there? If you are out there, I beg you, let the babies be born alright.
Did something listen? Was its favor incurred? Jupiter! He thought loudly.
Plerrxx stirred next to him. The Mmrowwr woke and sat up. “I can hear you, you know.”
“What?”
“That prattle to Jupiter. Why do you demean yourself so? Worship nothing, I say.”
“Tess told me it isn't like worshipping. It's something else. It's praying.”
“Whatever it is—don't do it.”
“I'm sorry, Plerrxx, but if it can help Jennifer, I will pray to a shoe.”
The Mmrowwr shrugged.
“I should have expected as much. Young love. How romantic…” Plerrxx's thought-voice was laced with sarcasm.
Passion gave out a particularly horrible outcry and then gasped loudly and coughed. A second later a baby's cry was heard. A smile leapt to Captain's face. It had worked!
Soon the second baby came. Passion reclined and stared silently up at the sky. The Delphiniums cleaned the infants with water and cloth. They bound them in tiny dream suits and masks. Captain eyed the water thirstily. They had only brought enough for the newborns. He knew the thirst was just in his mind. Jennifer had explained that the dream suits cared for their basic needs. Repulsive, but practical.
“Now what?” Plerrxx asked him.
Captain motioned for Tess to come over. “What is it?” she asked.
“Can we go after her now?”
“Yes. We will construct the canoes. Jupiter has spoken. All obligations have been paid.”
“What about the babies?”
“Wisdom, the Seer, and Passion will stay here. The rest of us will go.”
Jennifer had hours head start on them. Would they make it in time? Captain was impatient. As soon as canoes and paddles were constructed, he jumped in one and started paddling. Plerrxx came after him, followed by Courage—who had quickly sorted their belongings and clothes from the group's communal duffel bag into a smaller backpack. Calm and Tess pulled up the rear. It was slow moving through the slush. It didn't ripple like water; it just sat, glue-like. They paddled through. The purple light of the dream-ship above them hovered ever brighter with its sharp flashes of vulgar color.
17. The Island of the Shard
Sometimes when we interpret the significance of a stone in our path,
we forget that we live in an ocean of oxygen.
–Delphinium joke.
Lucidity, passion, and dark inertia: these were the brilliance of fiery heroes, all evidence of the actor who never acts. The idea echoed long in Jennifer's mind as she pulled her canoe up the beach on the other side of the slush. Men retrace my path at every turn—more words from the Gita. She set the canoe down on the marble-like sand and drew in the sight of the huge structure in front of her; it was made of blasted rock that shimmered in the death-light, unlike any building she recognized. She knew immediately what it was: a mausoleum.
The Shard—whatever it was—lay inside. What would it look like? How would she wake it? She stepped slowly up the beach. On the face of the burial housing was a closed door depicting a monkey's face. She bit her lip—this again?
“Hellooooo,” said the monkey-door in its booming, frighteningly playful voice.
She swallowed. Always show the gods respect.
“Hello there,” she said as friendly as she could. “Do you remember me?”
“Of course!” said the monkey-door. “You riddled me out.”
Jennifer laughed, nervously.
“What happened to your friend? Was he fantastically killed?”
“No,” she said. “Great door—I wish to pass.”
“To where?” The door wondered aloud. “Do you have any idea what's in here?”
“I know what it is.” Jennifer was always headstrong.
“But you don't!” The door laughed, mirth reverberating across the beach.
“You can't even comprehend it. Do you think I am strange? Do you think us lesser gods follow no rationality? This treasure is far greater than I; you do not know!”
“I beg you, door. Please let me pass.” She stepped forward without thinking.
The monkey-door laughed again, a deep, throaty piping that rumbled in her ears.
“Perhaps you would like to answer some questions, and maybe I'll let you through.”
“Riddles?” she asked.
“Questions.” The door was succinct.
“Okay,” Jennifer muttered. She exhaled loudly and took off her pack. She eased herself onto the ground to sit comfortable. It was a habit she learned from years of riddling with her dad. She brushed her hair out of her face and looked back toward the slush. Dawn was coming; or what passed for dawn in this place. The air was still cold and night ruled the sky above. There was a courageous light at
the edges of the horizon. It looked like light beyond light. It was almost colorless as it sunk down. What passed for warmth here, was generated by Jupiter. Only the sun's light could still strike through the oceans of clouds; its heat was entirely trapped outside the planet, in pleasant space.
“Ask your questions,” Jennifer told the door.
“What is the sound of the No-Shape?” the monkey-door snarled as he spoke.
“There's no sound. Only dirt on the spectrum.” This was her father's answer.
“That's not true. See—you know nothing! All things have a sound!”
“It is not a thing,” she spoke. “It is nothing of any sort. It is a changeless hell.”
“Changeless? Interesting choice of words. Only one thing is truly changeless.”
“I did not know you were religious,” Jennifer ventured.
“I am a god! Of course I am religious—ha hee!” The monkey-door laughed easily.
She had never considered it. She did not know what this meant, but she did know it gave her an advantage. She inhaled and laughed herself. “I see.”
“But you still haven't managed to answer my question.” The monkey-door was suddenly serious.
“What is the sound of the No-Shape, as all things make a sound? What would its sound be?”
“Death,” Jennifer answered, thinking of no other possibility.
“Death. Do you really think you can stop death? Is that what the No-Shape really is?”
“Yes,” she said. She knew it wasn't.
“It's death for the gods, I will tell you that.” The monkey-door was thoughtful. “But what does it matter?”
“Have I answered your question?”
“Have you? You haven't. You have to get all three wrong to fail.”
“I apologize, master door. I did not know what answer you wanted.”
“That is your mistake, Jennifer Pichon—there is only one answer: the truth. In all your years you've never learned to tell the truth.”
She was silent. What did the door want? It knew her name, but was this so surprising? It was a god, after all.
“The true sound of the No-Shape is the sound of pain,” the monkey-door interrupted her reveries, “for that is what it will draw out of this Solar System. True pain! Not these illusions you feel in your temporary body. Pain that lasts forever, as even your soul is trapped in the fire of the No-Shape and cannot escape. How do you know it's not too late?”