The Fourth Circle

by Zoran Zivkovic

  This really confused me. I never even suspected that Sri was into flying saucers and all that....

  It all lasted only a few seconds. The entire recording from the diskette flew into the skies in one powerful, high-frequency impulse, and then Sri redirected the antenna toward the usual satellite and returned it to the receive mode. I had no time to find out where the signal was aimed. It could have been any one of literally many thousands of nearby stars that fill a largish sector of the sky. And that one broadcast had almost exhausted our entire store of energy.

  If Sri and I had been alone, I might have ignored that bit of business— what do I care for his cosmic preoccupations anyway—but because of the guests, one of them in particular, I had to ask for some sort of explanation. My dignity was at stake. What would people think of me? That I was only a common housemaid who has to do the chores and hold her tongue? That just wouldn't do. But the problem was not so simple: if I asked Sri anything, I would expose myself to the serious risk of getting a short answer to the effect that it was none of my business (or worse), which amounted to the same thing as far as my dignity went.

  My tall knight rescued me from this predicament. Before I had decided what to do, he unexpectedly reached under the bed and pulled out the leather bag with the roulette set. When he opened it, he generated a general enthusiasm in which everything else was forgotten at once. Dear God, I never knew I was surrounded by a gambling fraternity! What was my house turning into? A casino?

  I sensed an unusual excitement, via the baby, in the latest guest too, the man with whom I could not-have any direct communication. Since his arrival, he's just lain unmoving on a bed opposite the entrance to the temple, apparently interested only in communing with my offspring, while I take care of his physiological needs, like a real nurse.

  Once the baby told me that I remotely reminded the guest of one of his previous nurses, some Sarah or other, but when the baby created a picture of Sarah taken from the guest's memories, I shivered. Surely he didn't see me as podgy as that? How terrible. I'm going to have to start watching my figure....

  The sick chap arrived together with my tall beloved, who in fact was pushing his wheelchair. At first I felt gooseflesh at the sight. The disabled guest looks terribly deformed, like a creature from one of those horror movies I hate so much.

  But then I noticed his eyes, the only living part of his body, eyes that simply radiated intelligence and goodness—and compassion rose in me. A man with such eyes simply can't be a monster.

  But even if my first impression of him had remained unchanged, I wouldn't dare to show it—not only because I'm prevented by my role as a hostess (one shouldn't find fault with one's guests, should one), but also, and mainly, because of the very close connection that immediately developed between the disabled guest and my child. I would never do anything to hurt my darling's feelings.

  The baby had announced the arrival of the previous guests by briefly opening its eyes and setting up a telepathic link to my mind (luckily for me, Sri had no idea), but immediately after, it would sink back into torpor, wholly uninterested in the outside world. I'm beginning to believe that its Down's Syndrome is of a form that has a few odd side effects.

  After announcing the arrival of the last two visitors, the baby, to my amazement and delight, did not turn itself off again, nor close its eyes. It has finally found a kindred soul. For a short while I was jealous because a stranger had taken my natural place, and my conscience started to trouble me because when the parent-child relationship starts to creak, it's usually the parent's fault; but the baby's pleasure soon drove all these ugly thoughts away.

  It was truly delighted by this tie with the disabled guest: I felt it unmistakably in the baby's every gesture. It obviously had to build a telepathic bridge to him too. That was the only possibility because the poor fellow couldn't physically communicate with the world. This way, thanks to baby's mediation, I'm able to take care of him effectively, to fulfill his wishes and meet his needs, while he in turn spends all his waking hours in the baby's company, obviously just as content.

  Only fragments of what they say reach me. I'm not very enthusiastic; oh, it isn't the sort of thing that might corrupt a young person, no, not that kind of talk, but it somehow doesn't seem right to be giving continual lessons in the theory of physics and cosmology to someone of its age. It's as though neither of them knows of any other subject. I could understand the baby's interest in those disciplines if Sri were the father, but, bearing in mind whose genes besides my own have been inherited by the baby, something obviously doesn't click. Well. I've made no objections, not wanting to disturb their happiness.

  My gambler laid out the baize with the skillful movements born of long practice, dealt the chips, tested the rotation of the wheel; everybody was staring unblinkingly at his every move, and I felt the communion between the baby and the sick man cease for a moment. At that point, a bell rang somewhere in the murky depths of my mind, but I did not immediately understand that it was sounding an alarm. Then things started to move fast.

  Everybody placed their chips on the same number; the croupier, acting upon some unheard instruction, did likewise with the chip meant for the disabled guest, so that five large stakes were deposited together. Only the baby and I weren't playing: the baby—understandably—because of its age, and I because nobody asked me. Which, of course, doesn't matter....

  They're obviously playing va banque all the way, was the thought that imposed itself. All the money is wagered on one throw only and on one number—and then what happens happens. I looked at the croupier, because my heart trembled at the thought that my chosen one might lose everything in a single, moment, but like a true gambler, he showed no trace of agitation. A portion of that self-confidence affected me, and not without a slight dose of malice, I began to study the other players. Their expressions showed excitement, but not fear. It even seemed to me that the face of the physically disabled guest, usually expres-sionless, was twisted into a new grimace, but I couldn't interpret it.

  Then the croupier flung the ball.

  A long time before the perfectly round piece of ivory began to plummet down the mahogany slope toward the small numbered partitions, I realized that something was happening. Waves of pleasure started to flow from the baby's mind, quickly growing in strength, establishing a powerful feedback loop. They were just about to reach the point of no return, when I, totally unprepared, finally understood what it was all about.

  I glanced desperately at the sick man. That vague grimace on his face had, by now, turned into a clear paroxysm of lust. Disgusting pervert! Freak! Monster!

  Pedophile! How could he do it to the baby? It was still a child!

  But then the orgasmic rise, coming through the telepathic link, passed completely to me from the baby, discarding it like the empty cartridge out of a charger, like a used tool, driving out of my head every thought except one: this thing is meant for me! But why?

  This was no time for silly questions. The take-off was so tremendous that I completely lost my mind. No wonder: I had already forgotten when I had last been with a man. This seemed to be much stronger: as if I were making love with five of them at once, everybody climaxing in harmony. God, I had no idea I was so kinky....

  The ball rolled relentlessly down the slope and finally stopped, at the right number, naturally. Instantly my consciousness splintered in a fierce flash of white, all-engulfing light. Just before ultimate oblivion, I saw for a split second a small figure, its tail tucked between its legs, outlined in the brilliance pouring from the entrance into the temple. He was holding his elongated, hairy hands above his head, thumbs and index fingers clumsily touching in the shape of a circle, while under his feet were those two revolting little turtles.

  My scattered being streamed irresistibly towards that circle and soared through it, and then there was nothing except the absolute void and the darkness of an alien, starry night.

  11. THE FRUIT OF SIN

  I CLOSED MY ey
es at the mighty blaze of light.

  But the strength of it lingered under my wrinkled eyelids, so that I continued to see the manifestation of the Lord in this most unlikely place: amid the dirt and stench of the Devil's lair. A strange, deceptive feeling came over my disordered mind: that I had plunged headlong into a bottomless abyss and was plummeting dizzily and relentlessly downward, as off a cliff. Surprisingly, I felt no fear, though I had always dreaded heights, even the modest ones reached by the Master's wooden scaffolding.

  I seemed to feel Marya's cheering touch, imparting an additional infusion of vigor to help me endure this new trial, but then I knew that her small hand was no longer on my bony shoulder—and fell instantly prey to despair in the conviction that I had been thrown into the deepest hole of Hell, where only the most guilty are condemned for time everlasting, to expiate their immeasurable guilt among the terrible vipers who breed there.

  I opened my eyes to face my dread destiny with humility as a true penitent should, knowing that repentance will not bring forgiveness but only a modest peace with God. But a new miracle stood revealed, banishing the sick plunging feeling. Although my vision still danced with points of whiteness, I saw clearly that I had arrived at a place more different from the pit of horrors I had been imagining than day is from night.

  Long did I stand there, staring unblinkingly around me at the country into which I had mysteriously arrived, unable to determine whether I really had, through some unknown, undeserved mercy, left the Devil's filthy den for the Elysian fields, or whether this was only another satanic illusion to cruelly rouse my hope only to replace it with infinite despair.

  I stood in a green luxuriant meadow, carpeted with a profusion of flowers of many colors redolent of the perfumes of Eden. The meadow stretched in all directions, to the very horizon, without a hill to interrupt the flatness of the ground.

  Only at a very great distance did I spy a lonely tree, the thick, leafy crown of which towered high above the surrounding plain.

  "When the excited beat of my heart stopped pounding in my ears, sounds began to reach me: the monotonous voice of the wind, sprung from the tender, bowing blades of grass; the humming speech of countless beetles, which made their homes among the soft verdure; and a muffled noise, which at first I did not recognize. But a distant memory of it returned to me: I had heard it long ago, shortly after I entered the service of my Master, when we traveled to a monastery that stood by the sea—the murmur of waves breaking on the rocks of the shore.

  And while I was still looking around, hoping to discover the source of this sound in a place that bore no trace of the sea, I noticed that which I should have first seen: that I was quite alone amid a strange, empty field—without Marya, to give refreshment to my body by that gentle touch which drove all fearfulness from my soul; without the Master too, to be my guide through the Third circle of the underworld, if this indeed be it.

  Denied the sure guidance of their wise judgment that had so far saved me many times from going astray, I stood undecided for a few moments, not knowing what to do in this beauteous meadow, so lovely but deserted. Then I realized, even without the Master's directions, that but one path lay before me, leading toward that distant tree, the only thing that stood out from the surrounding monotony.

  At a tardy pace I moved toward that far point, beset by dark forebodings that an evil fate lurked there, waiting for me. Then my frightened wits turned in another direction. First my attention was attracted by the springiness of the grassy cover: I seemed to walk on a thick carpet that sprang back, erasing my traces the instant my bare foot left it to take a new, cautious step forward. Nothing, not even the smallest sign, remained behind to show my unsure passage through this land of Eden.

  Glancing ahead to divert myself from this disquieting erasure of my tread, which did but add to my deepest apprehensions, I saw a new marvel in the vault of heaven: resting low above the horizon, bathing it in dark colors, I saw not one sun, but two. At first I thought one of them was but the silvery moon because the moon will sometimes rise betimes for its nightly journey before the sun has fully set. But this orb's powerful light made me doubt this: never in all my days had I seen the moon rival the sun itself in brightness.

  I had no time to cudgel my poor wits with this new mystery because a creature with an eccentric, hopping gait, more like an animal than a man, approached me. And indeed, when the unknown creature came nigh enough for my weak old eyes to see clearly, I discerned that it was a frightful behemoth such as none had ever seen on the face of the Earth, nor yet, mayhap, in the dread kingdom that lies beneath it.

  Had it not six legs, it would have been like unto a great dog without a tail, going by the thick, long-haired, motley fur that hid its face completely. From the invisible mouth below the fur came sounds of barking, similar to the yapping of a fox, but not of savage fury, as I at first, stiff with fear and expecting to be torn to pieces, had thought. Nay, it was straining, instead, to tell me something.

  Although I did not understand its inarticulate language, it was not difficult to perceive its impatience—and indeed, the strange beast, after trotting a few circles around me, barking all the while, rushed off again with its hopping gait toward the tree. I stood perplexed for a few moments, then set off myself in the same direction at a swifter pace.

  Before I reached it, I saw what previous distance had not allowed me to see: around the thick bole sat hunched forms, arranged in an unfinished circle. I was startled for a moment to see that these too were six-legged beasts. One of them came to meet me and spoke briefly in his strange tongue, and then returned to his pack. And then I spied Marya and my Master sitting huddled in the same manner, heads bowed, at the place where the circle was broken, like stone sentinels guarding the entrance to some invisible shrine, and my frightened soul took heart a little.

  I moved toward them gladly, expecting mild words of greeting, or at least a gesture betokening welcome; but there was none of that. They remained motionless, like statues carved from living rock, as if heedless of my arrival or not seeing me with their downcast eyes. However, a commotion broke out among the huddled beasts as I approached their broken circle, and their utterances became harmonious as a crude chant swelled from their rasping throats.

  The moment I stepped into their circle—for there was nothing for it— passing between the yet unmoving Marya and the Master, the chant rose to a bloodcur-dling yell, and their long-furred bodies began to glow with a radiance like that of the moonlight in a dark night, though here it was still daytime, lit by two suns.

  This sight, intensified by such a roar, would have frozen my soul and sent me in headlong flight, but another apparition made me stop as if turned to stone. From behind the broad, gnarled trunk, a girl, passing fair, stepped out before me in a gentle motion. She wore nothing but her long, thick hair, which fell to her rounded hips as the last defense of her angelic nudity.

  Smiling kindly at me, she kept her hands behind her back, while I, sorely confused, was unable to interpret the purpose of this miraculous appearance.

  Was it a belated reward from God for my hitherto ascetic life, deprived of all carnality, or a last temptation of Sotona, who could see into my most secret, li-centious thoughts?

  Silence suddenly reigned, for the monstrous, howling pack had hushed on seeing the girl and returned to their former huddled quietude, their bodily radiance now much reduced. Perplexed, I gazed dully before me. Long stood we thus, as if in some grotesque fresco of my Master's, before the girl made another movement, endowing the scene with unexpected, ancient meaning.

  Her hand, until then hidden behind her back, moved forward in front of her abundant breasts to display an apple, fresh and ruddy on her white palm. Her unblinking gaze aimed a clear message at my eyes, but I was still not willing to understand, hoping for yet another impossible turn of events, like a man in sleep who tries to find escape from nightmare in swift awakening.

  But this was no idle dream: she extended her slender hand to m
e to offer this fruit of age-old sin and exile. Exile, yes, but whither? The unnamed answer came the moment I involuntarily took the proffered gift in my trembling hands, as if some other will controlled my mind.

  With the sharp sound of thick bark splintering, an inconceivable door began to open in the great bole of the tree before which I stood, revealing a passage into the interior. My frightened gaze saw nothing but total blackness, as if I stood on the doorstep of a dark cellar in the brightness of day. I looked up at the maiden again, but she was already vanishing behind the tree; for a moment I saw her body from behind, full naked, for all her hair hung down in front—and as she disappeared finally, the broken circle around me came abruptly to life.

  First the divided ends united, for Marya's hand now firmly clasped the Master's, denying me any retreat from the exile to which I was sentenced. Then the horrible chant thundered forth again, gaining in strength with each new breath, soaring to a high climax. The links of this living chain began to press closer together around my wretched self, their bodies shining strongly once more. This, however, was not the earlier radiance, which had shone out from beneath their fur, but the glow cast by a third yellow sun that at that instant rose opposite the first two, now hastening toward sunset.

  I stepped back in confusion, lacking the time even to marvel at this latest miracle, but there was nowhere to retreat. One way only gaped before me, and I unwillingly took it. I did not at once step through the wooden portals leading into the bottomless dark, but paused on the earthen threshold to look back one more time at my Master, with whom I had spent almost half my life. His face, distorted by the grimace of that alien chant in which he now joined, responded only by a blank gaze in which I discerned nothing: no sorrow, no joy, not even a distant memory. At this total void, something in me broke and I took one fateful step and went out from the light into the darkness. Went out and saw the stars.