The sound of clattering cars could be heard outside. He extracted himself from his anxiety with a stoic perspective. It was as if he were watching himself from a distance, far away in space, like a speck of dust on a grain of sand called Earth. He consoled himself by thinking about the beauty of the universe that would endure even after he was gone, the vitality that still bubbled up inside of him and his longing for Orithea and Sophia. He continued to sit silently opposite Sin. He had nothing to say. Sin was silent, head bowed, examining his fingernails. Without lifting his head, he looked at Atar through his eyebrows with a rigid gaze.
“Come with me.” Sin rose to his feet and exited the headquarters room into the subterranean corridors. Sin appeared less threatening—as well as less threatened—than he had been earlier in the presence of Nergal. In place of fear, Sin's expression was now one of gloom. Sin leapt onto an empty slow-moving car and Atar followed. Sin gripped the handle and steered the car through the passageways. Atar saw production rooms where machines were being built by teams of workers who swarmed around them like ants tending to their kingdom.
“What is the true purpose of your mission?” asked Sin in tone that was slightly less severe.
“As you already know, my mission is to collect living specimens, as well as to bridge the gaps between our cultures should the opportunity arise.”
“Why do you desire peace with us? You have finally succeeded in distancing yourselves from the pains of Earth, with its diseases and wars. Why would you want to have anything to do with it?” Sin was not cynical like Nergal.
“We are all a part of one human race, and at the end of the day, we will never be complete without peace between the different human sects.”
“Ever since the rift between Orpheus and Adamas, you managed to flourish without us." After a long pause he asked: "Is it true that you can create any type of material with the processor?”
The car took a sharp turn and Atar was pressed against the wall of the car. “Not yet. We are still in the initial stages of research.”
“And you are not afraid that it will be used for evil purposes?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you can create any material with it, then you can create very dangerous substances.”
Atar did not understand what Sin was implying. Sin stopped the car. Atar followed him into a room that was surprisingly white and brightly lit. There was a wooden board on the opposite wall that was flanked by two metal candlesticks holding lit candles. In the center of the board, enclosed in a glass case, was an ancient clay tablet inscribed with a cuneiform inscription. Only then did he notice a white rectangular box that stood in the center of the room. The box was opaque and shiny with rounded edges.
“This is the module,” said Sin, pointing to the rectangular box.
'If so, then it's true,' thought Atar. Over the years, he had heard various rumors about the module. He was curious about what appeared to be a display for the clay tablet, but he remained focused on the matter at hand and asked, “What is the module?”
Sin looked to the side and explained in a flat, tired voice, “It is a weapon of destruction. The module is based on the creation constant. Do you understand?”
Atar did not want to understand.
“I harnessed the discoveries made by Pythagoras and Adamas in order to invent this device.” Sin shot a glance of love mingled with loathing toward the white box.
“Adamas?”
“Yes. You see, your Orpheus discovered that matter is the constant movement of empty molecules arranged in a coil. When this movement is stopped, matter reverts back to its original state of nothingness.”
“Correct.”
“And there is a constant relationship between the radius of the helical twist and the height of the distance between the curves. This fractal constant remains the same in subatomic particles as well as in entire solar systems arranged within a galaxy.”
“Correct.”
“And Adamas...” Sin hesitated as if he were unsure, but then continued, “Adamas figured out the amount of energy required to cause one of the curves in the coil to collapse and thereby close the cycle. The collapse of one small curve in the tiniest helical twist turns the coil into a hoop. That is all that is required to destroy matter. And thus begins a chain reaction in which all of the coils collapse. Combined with your particle processor, when it is completed, the module could create the most dangerous material ever,” said Sin nonchalantly while examining his fingernails.
Atar began to comprehend the significance of the module. He calculated the danger that it may potentially cause. 'I must warn Octavia,' he thought. Although he still did not understand why Sin was revealing all of this information to him, he knew that he should take advantage of the opportunity. “What material?” he asked coolly.
“Nothingness.”
Atar shot a sideways, inquisitive glance at him.
Sin turned to him, raised his melancholy eyes and began to speak in a slow monotone. “With the help of this device, the Gnostics can destroy everything within a range of one hundred thousand light years. The significance of that is that the entirety of the Milky Way nebula, together with all humankind as well as all the heavenly bodies, will turn into nothingness.”
Atar was horrified and fought against the wave of information that threatened to drown him, when all of a sudden, something dawned on him—a small but significant detail.
“You said 'the Gnostics'. You did not say 'we'.”
Sin was silent.
“Did Nergal agree to your showing me the module?”
“Yes.”
“Why does Nergal want me to know about the module?” Atar did not understand.
“So that you would contribute your knowledge to help develop and adapt it to work with the Pythagorean processor. Surely, you are very familiar with the processor,” continued Sin with chilling indifference.
“I would rather die than help you!”
“You cannot die unless Nergal decides you will. They can extract all of your knowledge about the Pythagorean processor technology without giving you the option of death.”
Atar imagined that he heard a trace of compassion in Sin's voice and immediately told himself that it was likely that he may just be craving a slight gesture of human warmth and had merely projected that desire on Sin. He was silent and lowered his gaze.
“Atar.”
Atar raised his head. Sin's eyes were suddenly soft. “You are not a Gnostic,” said Atar.
“I was, once.”
“The module is yours.”
“I created it, but it is no longer mine. I have no interest in destruction.”
“You trust me, if you are telling me this.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sin was silent.
“Why?” repeated Atar after a long time had passed.
“I created this module with my very own hands. Piece by piece, I fashioned this death machine. And now I want to destroy it.”
Atar calculated his doom. “You want to destroy the module?”
“Yes.”
“Is that possible?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Sin was quiet. Then he proclaimed, “You failed the test of the blood ritual!”
“How could I have failed? I decapitated the chicken and drank its blood!”
“You had no chance of passing the test. Nergal knew you would fail. You were not supposed to demonstrate your ability to carry out the act, but rather to do it without mercy, revulsion or shock. Had you passed the test, you would have been made a Gnostic, because according to Gnostic law, every man has the right to request to take the test or refuse to take the test, and every man who passes this test has the right to join the Gnostics. Whoever fails is put to death. You failed because your revulsion overcame you. They won't kill you, however, until they have extracted all of the information that they need from you. But when you failed the test of the blood ritual, you pas
sed my own test.”
“And what test was that?”
“The test that determined that I could include you in my plan. Come with me.”
CHAPTER 7
“What happened?” asked Thales. She looked agitated.
“Everything's fine,” she lied.
“It's that spy again. What is he doing to you?” Thales was angry. “He is undermining your equanimity with his tricks.”
“He's not hurting me, Thales, and he's not a spy.” She stood up to pour herself a cup of water.
“Something's not right here. Ever since he arrived, you stopped joining me on expeditions in the simulator.”
“You know how much work I have, Thales.”
“Not any more than you usually have. And you even neglect some of your work.”
“What?” she asked indignantly.
“It's true. I'm sorry to say it, but last night I checked the calibration and the synchronization of the spheres was imbalanced. I had to correct it myself.”
“It can't be.”
“See for yourself.” Thales summoned the synchronization log to the display screen and showed her the hour of correction work he had done. She blushed with embarrassment.
“He is disrupting your sense of balance.”
Her face flushed. “Careful, Thales. I am the master of this station, even if I made one small calibration error,” she said firmly.
“The error is not significant; rather the fact that something like this has never happened to you until now.” He paused and decided to proceed anyway in expressing what was on his mind. “We need to get rid of him. He's dangerous.”
“To get rid of him?”
“Maybe send him to Octavia. Let them decide what to do with him.”
“I am not sending him anywhere.” She drank a sip of water, cleared her throat, took a deep breath and continued. “We are obligated to care for him out of basic hospitality. And what's more, it's likely that he was specifically sent to us for a reason that we do not yet understand.”
“It is my duty to warn you about any danger that I see, be it a danger to you or to the station. But as you said, you are the ship's master and you make the decisions.”
“Don't you forget it,” she said angrily.
The stranger examined the database in the sample room. He read more about the details of the Human-Gods' Wars. He watched media clips about the Gnostic, Pythagorean and Atheist cultures. He looked for hints of his mysterious identity, but nothing rang a bell in his blank memory. Frustrated and exhausted, he fell asleep at the computer station.
In his dream, he saw people who approached him as if they were old acquaintances though he could not recognize them. Something that he intended to do—that he must do—was bothering him, but it may have been too late since he could not recall what that task was. Sophia appeared before him in a thin and airy cotton dress deep inside a green and flowering garden. Her melody could be heard playing in the background. She came toward him with open arms but when she got closer, he noticed a gaping hole in the center of her body. He could see the green grass through the hole. When he asked her about the hole, she dismissed the matter. He insisted that this was something she should take care of and she began to move away from him. He chased after her, but the faster he ran, the farther she became. He yelled her name and woke suddenly to the touch of her hand on his.
“Were you dreaming?”
“Yes.”
“Something scary?”
“I don't remember,” he lied.
“You were screaming in you sleep, so I woke you up. Are you feeling ok?”
“I'm ok now, yes. Thanks.” It was obvious that he was still upset.
“Pythagoras said that the way to achieve inner peace is through the eternal timeless beauty of music, mathematics, geometry, philosophy, nature and astronomy. Pythagoras invented the term 'philosophy', meaning the love of wisdom. What is more beautiful than the eternal splendor of the divine wisdom? You are welcome to find peace in beauty, harmony, unity and order. The most supreme form of beauty is a perfect sphere. All of its sides are equidistant from the center, without conflict or difference, without sharp angles or gaps, without disharmony or deficiency. In the meantime, let's enjoy the beauty of wholeness. I am sure that your memories will return soon.” Sophia spoke enthusiastically without paying much attention to his reactions.
The stranger did not recover from his nightmare and felt even more disconnected and alone after what she said. The concept of perfect beauty did not speak to him. Had she told him that she too felt detached at times, he would have felt less alone; but she only spoke of perfection. Where was she hiding her distress?
Although he did not want to offend his hostess, he was unable to contain the unease that he felt.
“There is something unreal about this concept of perfection. The colors, the sounds, the incredible order of the station, this way of life. How can it be that you don't feel any sense of loss toward your father?”
“What is unreal? During our Pythagorean training, we learn to identify the noise created by desire and to direct our feelings toward perfection, wholeness and fullness. We distance ourselves from desire, which is a deceptive form of suffering,” she explained patiently, while wondering why he kept fixating on this issue.
“Can you genuinely say that you don't miss your father? That you are genuinely satisfied with the hero myth that surrounds his memory instead of him?”
Sophia held back her feelings of anger and asked him in a cool Pythagorean tone, “Why do you keep coming back to this issue?”
“In my dream, I heard your melody playing and I saw you deep within a verdant and flowering garden. There was a large hole inside your body. I asked you about it and you dismissed it just like you are doing now. I see that you are saddened when I mention your father, and I apologize for causing you distress, but something just doesn't sit well with me here. I can't remember anything about my own past, so I practically have no mother or father, or anything else that I may call my own for that matter. I don't deny that I miss these things. I miss them very much. That's why I can't grasp how you manage to live with such a great void in your life,” he answered sympathetically.
Her lips tightened and her brow furrowed. “What are you, a dream interpreter? That is your dream, not mine.”
He regretted what he said and tried to understand why he felt so compelled to bother her, to cause her distress, to invade her private pain. But nonetheless, he was unable to stop himself. “Tell me that my dream has no meaning for you, that you don't carry a great emptiness inside of you. Tell me that I'm mistaken and I will leave you alone.”
“Enough!” she bellowed.
“I'm sorry, Sophia. If you decide to believe in harmony and perfection as your way of life, even if that means you must ignore feelings of missing a deceased loved one, then I will not interfere.”
She wanted to say, 'It is better that you don't interfere. It's none of your business and you are rude. How dare you invade my privacy?' Despite her anger, however, she did not forget that he was a man devoid of memories who was dependent on her, as she was the only relationship he had in life. She stood up straight and repeated the same words in a stern tone: “My father was a hero and I am proud of him. It's not my fault that you had all meaning ripped out of your life, so don't try to steal mine in its place!” Her shoulders were shaking.
He turned to look away from her. She went on her way and he was left alone.
Thales was livid with frustration as he watched them via the mechanical mosquito that blended in with the colors of the dome. 'Not only is he a spy, he's also a con man, trying to sway her from her Pythagorean lifestyle,' he thought. 'First he invaded her life under the guise of a sick man, then he caused her to become attached to him. She's likely to lose her sense of judgment. Later, he will set the stage for a Gnostic takeover. Is it my duty to open her eyes, as a Pythagorean as well as scout of this ship, even if that task requires a confrontation? Does my responsi
bility obligate me to point out the plot that is being hatched? Will Sophia perhaps realize this on her own?'
Thales wanted to avoid an argument, which would eclipse the magical moments that he had shared with her in the simulator. Although these moments did not constitute the true intimacy he desired, that was specifically why he did not want to take that risk.
“Take this,” Barman said to him.
“What is it?” asked Thales.
“What else could it possibly be? A drink.”
Thales downed a small sip and rolled the liquid around in his mouth.
“Well?” asked Barman.
“Not bad,” he said, drinking in large gulps of the viscous milky-orange liquid.
“Eat the thing at the bottom of the cup too,” said Barman, handing him a spoon.
“If it's such a secret, I promise not to tell anyone. What did you put in it?”
“You promise not to tell?”
“In the name of holy Orpheus.” Thales placed two fingers over his heart.
“Ground flaxseed, St. John's wort, pomegranate juice, grape sugar, a pinch of hot pepper and saffron essence.”
“Give me another one.”
“One is enough. I'll give you some pineapple juice.”
“Why is one enough?”
“It's not good to get carried away.”
“Why not?”
“So that you won't lose your senses. It seems like you need to stay focused.”
“Why, then, did you give me a glass?”
“To improve your mood.”
“What, is there something wrong with my mood?” Thales asked defensively.
Barman did not answer and placed the juice on the counter.
“Is it that obvious?”
Barman remained silent.
“Yeah, I'm a little upset.”
Barman's eyes silently asked, 'Do you want to talk about it?'
“We must seem weird to you, us Pythagoreans.”
“Weird? Not weird—very weird,” Barman laughed.
“I admit that, even in my own eyes, we are starting to seem weird. But what compelled you to spend your days surrounded by pure and innocent souls, without jealousy, hatred, anger bitterness or love?”
Mesopotamia - The Redeemer Page 13