This is art, not science, thought Candor as he watched red and green flecks form on her cheeks, followed by curvy thighs, and voluptuous breasts.
“Steady now,” said Zyphon as he called out to Kythonia. “Stay with me, Shajin. I know it is difficult, but it will be over soon. For you will dream, and when you awaken, you will be young again.”
Kythonia looked up at Zyphon, as he cradled her head in his hands. She had never experienced such pain before, a pain that made her long for a release from the body that endured it. “Swear it,” she said in a whisper that only Zyphon could hear. “Swear it to me, young Olissar.”
Zyphon kissed her on the brow, and then smiled. “By Eos, I swear it, Shajin. Now be strong, the time is approaching.”
With that, Zyphon heard the faint hum from the stasis fields around the new body, and knew that the final sequence was moments away. Taking a cord that was denser than any other fiber or metal yet known to Penticorian science, he slid it over the needle in the back of her head. With a final push, he locked it in place, and blood and fluid coated his hands. Kythonia’s eyes rolled up into the back of her head, a last reflex, and she mercifully lost consciousness.
To Candor, it was a grueling race that required speed, dexterity, and skills he didn’t even know he had. Sweat poured off his brow, but every time it would build to the point of stinging his eyes, Ghedron was there with a cloth to remove it. One eye was always watching the photonic screen, and Ghedron enjoyed the banter with Candor. He believed that by prodding him, he was ensuring that Candor’s full attention was on the task at hand, and he would be less likely to make an error that could cost his mother her life.
Of course, Ghedron had no idea if this was going to work. But given the new technology he was witnessing, he thought that there was a chance that Zyphon knew what he was doing, even if it was an experimental procedure. Regardless of the outcome, he admired the tenacity that was involved, as against all odds they struggled to save his mother’s life. He supposed that perhaps he misjudged Candor, and Zyphon, and he was thankful that his father had the presence of mind to override his emotions.
“It has to be now!” Zyphon shouted as he handed the other end of the cord to Ghedron.
“It’s ready, Zyphon,” confirmed Candor.
Ghedron wasted no time as he took the cord from Zyphon, located the small black port, and inserted the end of the connector. Candor watched him, and the moment the cable made contact he activated the blue control rod, just as Zyphon instructed him.
“Take the case out of the way.” Zyphon ordered as he laid Kythonia’s head gently on the pillow, turning it gently so as not to disturb the connection.
Candor and Ghedron did as they were told, and slowly the new body floated down to rest on the bed.
“The old, and the new,” said Candor as he looked at two figures that were essentially the same person. “And one must die, so that the other may be reborn.”
At first, he thought that someone would jibe him for being so melodramatic, but no one did. Of course, Zyphon was busy monitoring what he called, “the transference.” But Ghedron surprised him, because he was smiling, his hands folded respectfully as he waited. Candor looked in Ghedron’s direction, and it took him by surprise when Ghedron bowed to him in a show of respect. Candor returned the gesture, and for the first time since he’d met Ghedron, he didn’t feel like taking his head off at the shoulders.
“You know,” said Ghedron softly. “I felt so helpless for so long. There was just nothing I could do for her, even though I love her more than myself. Even if this is not successful, I’m content to know that in the end I was finally able to try to help her.”
Candor felt his tears rising, as he realized how much pain this family had endured. He could literally see the weight lifting from Ghedron’s shoulders as his suffering abated. It warmed his heart to know that he had helped Ghedron to release that pain. Taking a couple of quiet steps, Candor reached out and took Ghedron by the shoulder. “I misjudged you, Ghedron. I am sorry for that.”
Tears streaked down Ghedron’s face as he replied, “And I misjudged you…brother.”
Exhausted, they both found comfortable chairs to sit in while they waited. Zyphon never left the photonic screen, his attention riveted, as multiple colored bars moved in a rhythmic dance around him. Candor had no idea what he was doing, but he knew that it had something to do with the fadosh, or spirit. Zyphon told them that it was a form of energy that could be measured. In simpler terms, Zyphon explained that the thoughts and personality of living beings reside in spacetime, centered around the fractal bends in mass that surround our bodies. This code is channeled through the brain, a quantum bio-electric machine, providing us with a connection to our bodies. The resulting union facilitates consciousness, which resides as engrams in the spacetime continuum. He further explained that incarnation is not taking from one body and giving to another, or creating a copy, but instead transferring ownership of engrams from one fractal bend in mass to another, at a fixed point in spacetime.
Candor was astounded as he reasoned. But can it truly be transferred from one body to the next? What about her memories, her life experiences? Is that part of the package? Could it be that we are all just thoughts being channeled through bodies, like radio waves to a radio? When philosophers talked about “collective consciousness” is this what they meant? And if so, is death final, or just a temporary state of being?
Shajin Kythonia Nassvhedt opened her eyes, and she felt…wonderful. Smiling, she licked her lips and found that they were soft, and supple. She remembered Zyphon coming to her while she was feverish and near death. She even remembered the pain as the needle probed deep into her skull, and the final push of the connector. Yet after that…
She remembered being in a long white corridor. Adrift and nearly asleep, she felt herself move in a way that she could not explain. She even remembered a flash of light, and sitting up to see her body, with white hair and deep wrinkles that etched the lines of her once beautiful face. And then she moved, and she couldn’t explain the sensation because it was not a swift journey. She felt as if she had filled up her new body. Slowly moving in to take residence as it adjusted to her, and allowed her to bond with it.
“Mother?” asked Ghedron, noticing that the eyes of the new body were open.
It was four hours since the transference began, and Ghedron, Zyphon, and Candor, were at her side the moment he asked the question. Kythonia looked up and saw three worried faces staring down at her, and she was also keenly aware of the fact that she was naked. She supposed that it should have bothered her, but strangely enough it didn’t.
“My beautiful son,” she said while taking his face in her hands and kissing him.
Zyphon and Candor shouted with joy and hugged each other. Their trial was over, and the procedure worked. Tears flowed all around as they watched Ghedron embrace his mother. The miracle of having the matriarch returned to the family emanated in waves of joy, causing all of them to erupt with laughter. As Ghedron helped Kythonia dress in her favorite house-robe, Zyphon covered her old body, but he stopped before covering her face, unsure what to do.
“What is to be done with your old body, Matriarch?” Zyphon asked.
Kythonia gazed at her old face, and smiled with her new one. “It served me well for centuries. It shall be honored in the traditions of our ancestors. And Zyphon,” she said as she embraced him, “I thank you for returning me to my family.”
The door opened, and Thalia stood in the entrance. Her mouth hung open in complete shock, because the Penticorian before her looked as her mother had when she was her age. Kythonia opened her arms, beckoning her daughter to come to her. “Lia,” she said, knowing that only Thalia would recognize the nickname she was given as a child. “How this old matriarch has missed you, longing to be the mother that you so desperately needed. And how you have looked after me, and how much you have sacrificed. You are the honor and sweetness of my life.”
Thalia re
cognized the voice, but it was her eyes that convinced her that it was indeed her mother that was standing before her. She broke into a run and embraced Kythonia. Soon Mother, Daughter, and Son, wept together. But this time it was tears of joy that flowed from them, and Candor was content to know that beautiful Thalia was no longer consumed by grief.
Candor embraced Zyphon as he laughed. “You did it my friend, you actually did it!”
Zyphon smiled, even though he was exhausted. “No, we did it together, old friend. The nanites worked perfectly.”
“I’m glad I named them. I should have called them, Candor’s,” he said as a joke.
Zyphon smirked, and then laughed. “That’s a horrible name, I like nanites much better.”
Just then Zyphon looked up, hearing the cane of Seiss Theniass strike the floor. The old Penticorian stood frozen, unable to believe his eyes. Kythonia beamed with joy as she embraced him and said. “My dear husband, it is I! Can you believe this miracle?”
Theniass was speechless. His only reply was to kiss her as he cried with unbridled joy. When they parted, the elder began to stumble. It was Kythonia that caught him, helping him to a deep cushioned chair by her bed.
“I am fine,” Theniass insisted. “I’m just an old Seiss that is filled with delight for the first time in many decades.”
Zyphon attended Theniass immediately. He was tired, filthy, and emotionally drained. Yet he was a physician, and he would never shirk his duty. Theniass gazed at his now young wife, standing with their two young children. They decided to apply for the privilege to have them late in life. Ghedron was only eight-hundred years old, while Thalia was barely a child of six-hundred.
Ah, how I should have done this much sooner. And now it is almost time for me to… Then it struck him, like a vision from the Goddess herself! It was a thought of such magnitude that it was all he could do to grab Zyphon by his tunic, and draw him close.
“Zyphon Olissar, of the noble line of Dyphoss, I am in your debt forever, for you have given me back my beloved wife! And yet, I would ask of you one question still.”
Zyphon was too tired to feel indignation at being handled so roughly. And the look in Seiss Theniass’ eyes caught him off guard. He looks possessed! Zyphon thought. Yet he said. “It is my honor to serve, always. Ask your question.”
The elder licked his lips, his eyes darting between the concerned looks of his family and Zyphon, but he didn’t care. He could see it now, a way through the problems that plagued him for decades. A way to save not only his family, but to ensure the future of the Out-World Faction. “This thing you did, this…incarnation. Can you do it for me as well?”
Now that he thought about it, Zyphon supposed that he should have expected such a request. Yet the notion passed through him like a gentle breeze, or a soft spray of mist. “I can indeed,” he said with a wistful smile. “I can indeed.”
What once was whole, is now undone
What once was embraced, is now cast aside
These veins that have bled
Drops on faded parchment
Stains us, tares us asunder, and lays us low
It does not feel the sacrifice of the noble death
Nor the insistent suffering of the Goddess
Book of Eos
Seiss Nophte Halsshik
Five
Candor Shubin sat in the back of a car. It was an older vehicle made from thick steel, and painted dark blue, with a long hood and smooth riding suspension. He thought he knew the make and model, but he couldn’t be sure. Because although he could see through his eyes, and hear with his ears, he knew that it was Jeremiah Strange who was in control.
I’m dreaming again, aren’t I? He thought, lamenting the fact that the nightmares refused to leave him unmolested. I am Candor Shuveen, Penticorian! This is just a nightmare, a holdover from my last rejuvenation. I need to wake up!
“You’re absolutely clueless, Candy! Do you plan on being a witless douchebag your entire life?”
It was Jeremiah, and Candor was terrified. Mentally, Jeremiah was locked in a cage, and somehow, he’d escaped. Yet the question remained. When did Candor give him the chance to do a mental reach-around, and lock him in the vault of his own mind?
This is just a dream! Candor insisted, trying to free himself from the nightmare.
“Dreams, memories, it’s all the same damn thing to me.”
Where are we? Candor demanded. And for the first time in his life, Jeremiah hesitated. The strength of Candor’s convictions afforded him enough power to exert influence over Jeremiah. Or at the very least, force Jeremiah to stop and think it through, wondering if Candor could break down the barrier that imprisoned him.
“I don’t have time for this,” said Jeremiah. “I’ve got work to do, and you’re trying to get in the way, just like you always do, Candy-ass.”
Get in the way of what? You’re a figment of my frigging imagination! This is a dream! I don’t need you, and I don’t want you in my life!
“What would you be, without me?” Jeremiah shouted, and angry didn’t quite cover the rage in his tone. “You’d be a pathetic loser who’d have lost the top of his skull when he was just a wee lad! I saved us! I gave us the courage to do what was necessary to survive! Don’t preach to me about figments of your imagination, and dreams that you can’t control! I’m the one screwing this pooch, not you!”
Go to hell! Candor shouted.
In that moment, he did something he had never done before. He fought Jeremiah for control, as both thoughts and memories combined. He understood not only what happened to him as a child, but also what led to the creation of Jeremiah Strange. They were the same person, different sides of the same soul. Candor was Jeremiah, and Jeremiah was Candor, and both served the needs of the other. After the training and mental conditioning, Candor was forced to execute sleeper missions. Assassinations for the very government that was sworn to protect him.
This doesn’t make any sense! You’re not real! You’re just a grease spot, an aberrant quirk from my time under the influence of the Healers.
“Says you!” shouted Jeremiah. “It feels fucking real to me. Now look, Candy-ass, you can keep fighting me, or you can accept it. Just remember that it was me that saved us, and me that did things like this because you couldn’t handle it!”
The question just started to form, when Candor noticed Jeremiah pulling the nine-millimeter from the holster under his jacket.
Wait! No, Jeremiah!
His words were unheeded as Jeremiah pointed the weapon at the head of the man in the passenger seat. Without hesitation he pulled the trigger, and a loud rapport rang through the enclosed space of the car.
“What the!” exclaimed the driver in total shock. “Jerry, you were supposed to wait for us to stop! We’re in the middle of the fucking road for crying out loud!”
“Trent, I told you not to call me Jerry. Now stop whining and pull over. It’s the middle of the night and no one’s coming. Relax, we’re good to go.”
The man did as he was told, and in short order the car was on the shoulder. The road ran beside a swiftly flowing river, and Jeremiah took pleasure in the fact that in the moonlight the water looked black, like blood. The road they were on was carved out of the side of a mountain. Jeremiah nodded, satisfied that they could see anyone approaching for at least a quarter of a mile in either direction. Opening the door, Jeremiah hauled out the body of the man he just murdered, and was surprised to see that he was still alive.
“Well I’ll be a mammalian simulacrum!”
“What the hell did you just say, Jerry? I mean, Jeremiah,” corrected Trent.
What’s real and what’s imagined now, you bastard? Candor said. Even though he couldn’t smile on the outside, he was laughing on the inside.
“Listen to me, you weak little codger!” Jeremiah screamed at Candor through the growing fog in his head. “You might think this is all just a nightmare, but I know better! You’ve been so caught up in your own version of realit
y that you forgot who you really are!”
What am I, you? Is that what I am? If that’s the case, then you need to take that gun and put it to our head and be done with it! If all I can learn from you is how to murder someone, then I’d rather be dead! And I still don’t think my human dream was real, because if it was, then my life as a Penticorian wouldn’t be screwing with you!
“You mean screwing with us. Don’t forget, buddy, I go where you go.”
Jeremiah cocked his head to one side. He pushed the man against the stone wall that was erected as a barricade against the weight of the mountain. The man’s eyes rolled in their sockets, barely conscious as blood poured from the wound in his head. Candor sensed that Jeremiah didn’t feel anything as he watched the man’s life slowly fade away.
Is that what you are? Asked Candor as he watched the pleading bloodshot eyes in front of them, followed by a thin gurgling sound as he tried to speak. Are you just a murderer, a coldblooded killer?
Jeremiah sighed, as if he didn’t know the answer, or was trying to think of something to say. All the while, he helped the man to the other side of the road. After throwing him over the guardrail he pulled his gun, and shot the man again to finish the job. Then he let go, watching the body slide soundlessly into the river, carried away by the current.
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