Mesopotamia - The Redeemer

by Yehuda Israely

  “And for what reason do they wish to destroy?”

  “In order to increase their group of belonging. To expel the entire universe into a group of refugees. You, the Pythagoreans and the Gnostics, are similar because you deny the use of a line of separation, that which defines those that belong. You drain it of meaning because according to you everything, inanimate, vegetable, animate, and speaking, everything belongs. According to you, everything is under the jurisdiction of divine mathematics. The Gnostics, on the other hand, favor a philosophy which preaches that everything nullifies everything. The polarity of the two different approaches makes them rival ideologies.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there is no rule without exception, there is no group without a part that remains on the outside. The exception makes the rule. That is why these two groups consider the other an abomination. The premise for making definitive boundaries for the group is based on who's left outside of the group.”

  “And how do the Socratics belong?”

  “The Socratic group is defined by its living members, who are defined by not being among the dead whom we remember. To live means to belong to the living and remember the dead.”

  “My Father." she looked up at him.

  “Oh, a living Gnostic is more a part of your group than your dead father, that is if you remember him. Belonging applies to the living people, therefore you belong to the group of humanity. Either you belong to a humanity, if you are alive, or you are on the outside, considered dead. In days past, when they believed in ghosts and demons, ghosts were considered the souls of the dead who were trying to rejoin the group of the living. The role of the witchdoctor was to separate between the living and the dead and to banish the dead to their place, either in the netherworld or in the heavens, to restore the order of belonging to its rightful state.”

  “And now? What turn is required of me?” asked Sophia.

  “To recognize the finality of death. To note the difference between the living and dead, to see the living as a place of belonging. The social connection is what enables humanity to belong to the group of the living. In the past, the Gnostics took part in the order of humanity, but they stopped believing in its existence. The Gnostic doesn't believe even in the cosmic order of physical existence. Nevertheless, one of the proofs of the Gnostic attempt to belong is in their effort to connect their module with your processor. I suggest that you involve him in the order of humanity.”

  “How so?”

  “In a dual process. The Gnostic individual needs to retrieve for himself something that he pushed out, and simultaneously return to the group that rejected him.”

  “Again, how?”

  “I will give you an example. When a boy falls and skins his knee, he runs to his mother, receives a kiss on his knee, and only then does he begin to cry. When he's done crying, he goes back to play. Due to the fact that she cares about his pain, and marks the painful place with a kiss, the mother allows the knee to belong to the body, the pain is given a name and plays an active role in the story of his experience. The crying is the story of his experience. In order to restore a sense of belonging, the mother returns the injured knee to the boy's physical senses and the boy returns to his relationship with her. This dual process, to return the knee to the boy, and the boy to his mother, has been accomplished with one kiss.”

  “How does the mother create an environment of belonging for the boy? How do I do the same for a Gnostic who feels hurt and rejected?”

  “Try to answer that yourself,” Enosh challenged her.

  It suddenly became clear to her, “The blood challenge!”

  Enosh waited for her to explain.

  “Sin says that my father could not foster a relationship with the Gnostics. He could not overcome his disapproval of their beliefs. This was the blood challenge that he failed.” Sophia stifled her tears. The deeper she went in her training process, the more intense her emotions became. She took a deep breath and smiled at Enosh's worried face.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Yes. Let's continue, I don't have much time,” she said and started to breathe more steadily. “In the blood challenge, you are required to accept them to the same degree you would want them to accept you.”

  “Correct,” Enosh said.

  “I know I'm limited in my ability to understand you, Smoke,” Sophia went on. “Unlike Earth, Octavia has seen no wars, so I cannot relate to the experiences you've described, the destruction of all illusions of order, and the knowledge that comes with it. But I have also mourned, I lost my father. I know that I am offensive to you, being a woman, but let me remind you that it was the woman who first followed the Master of Light in the biblical story you told me. I want to taste from the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil. Would you include me? Would you let me taste it?”

  Smoke was surprised by Sophia's words but even more surprised by his own reaction. He was seized by anxiety. Anxiety that he could not identify its source. Sophia noticed his hesitation, and slipped into his consciousness through a crack that had opened for an instant. She stretched out her hand to him in open confidence. “Are you ready for me to be by your side and take part in your world?”

  Her hand remained extended in the air. He thought about Truth and wondered if his relationship with this Pythagorean woman was crossing some boundaries. What would Truth say? What would Truth do in his place? On account of his admiration for Truth, he would do anything. Truth was the one who had anointed him with the sacred oil during the initiation rites. Truth had watched him as he proudly passed the ritual of the blood challenge. Truth even broke the law when he grabbed hold of his hand as he walked along the edge of the abyss during the test of courage. He had taught him the mantras of nullification and the war songs. He shook himself to his senses. 'I came here to carry out a mission,' he reminded himself.

  “Let's go back to the simulator,” he said.

  She led him from the samples room back to the simulator. She had also felt a shiver when she turned it on.

  Smoke sat comfortably in his chair. Sophia knelt beside him. The snake, the Master of Light, filled the entire ceiling with colors of mustard and blue in diamond patterns. Slowly, the patterns dissolved into fragments against the dark background and the melody of the spheres. From the edge of the dome came a pale light that reduced the darkness on the ceiling into a vague, dark rimmed circle. The conjured hyena once again crossed the desert and vanished into the red ruin on the horizon. On the ground were flickering shapes that vanished as quickly as they appeared, faded barracks, a heavy wooden wall and buildings in the shape of black cubes. She didn't bother him with questions because she understood that this was the Gnostic compound.

  Aircrafts crossed the ceiling of the simulator from side to side, trailing a wake of white smoke. There was the sound of dim thunder. The shadow began to beat to the rhythm of the thunder. The shadow slowly changed its circular shape and at the center of the ceiling emerged the silhouette of a human figure. Smoke, who up until that moment had been stirring restlessly in his chair, began to relax. His breathing slowed, the world around him shrank and the stiffness in his limbs disappeared. His hearing dulled. The music from the spheres seemed far away. He forgot himself and went into a trance. The silhouette transformed into the head of a woman. Smoke and Sophia looked at the simulated face of the woman on the ceiling that slowly materialized.

  Sophia tried not to look at Smoke lest he become distracted. He sank deeper and deeper into the experience. Pythagoreans generally required more time to lose control of their thoughts, but she realized that the training in Gnostic self-nullification had conditioned him to be a perfect object of reception for experiences like this. They understood the true nature of devotion.

  The woman smiled and bobbed her head from side to side as if she were playing with a baby. Smoke's head swayed with hers at the same pace. She hummed a simple rhythm comprised of only two notes. Gradually, the two harmonic tones intensified, shaking Smoke a
nd Sophia down to the tiniest nerves in their bodies. Smoke was slouched in his chair. His head still swayed from side to side in time with the woman's face. His gaze was locked in her eyes, his mouth open with longing. The rhythm slowed. The image blurred and her eyes grew sad. He tensed, as if ready to grab on to her before she could slip away.

  He mumbled something she couldn't understand. “Mother,” she heard him whisper. “Mother,” he said again more clearly.

  The features of her face returned and become clearer. Her expression remained sad. The background darkened and between the monotonous, rhythmic beats there appeared a bedlam of blurry barrages. The woman looked at him with pity.

  “You know that we must part, my love. If only I could stay with you. It pains me to leave, but you must be strong. Take care of yourself. Stay in the shelter until you don't hear a single blast,” she said with a stifled cry. “I love you, my son.”

  More shadows appeared on the screen and spoke to him with different voices. Smoke lost control. He frantically tried to discern the shadows, but none of them were clear enough. There was a jumble of gibberish, guttural noises and nonsensical groans. Sophia did not react at all when he crushed her hand in his own. The shadows were trying to say something but without success. The barrages randomly thundered in the background. Voices continued to emerge from throats, screeching, nonsensical. The volleys were approaching, chunks of red and orange against the black sky. Smoke flinched at the sound of them. His body tensed, his jaw was clenched. Every noise shot through him, tormented him, tore to bits any remnant of the image of his mother. He buried his head in his hands.

  Finally the volleys subsided. Silence reigned. She turned off the simulator. When he lifted his eyes, he saw Sophia against the blue dome. The pain pounded in his temples, choking his throat.

  After a long silence, Sophia built up the courage to ask, “Was that your mother?”

  Smoke nodded wordlessly.

  Enosh, who had been standing outside the simulator watching the scene unfold, felt proud of his student.

  “Smoke to Truth.”

  “Truth here.”

  “Communications check. No news to report. Continuing to make contact with the woman.”

  Truth recognized the nuances of Smoke's voice and immediately noticed a difference. He had not called her 'the Pythagorean' or 'the female'. He had called her 'the woman,' an expression of intimacy and respect. Truth also noticed there was no longer tension in Smoke's voice. Smoke was too calm, too calm for a warrior about to go into battle or a spy working to keep his cover.

  'Is Flash right? Has Smoke fallen prey to the witch's spell?'

  “Give me more information.”

  “There is nothing more. I will continue to make contact and learn about the simulator. I will make contact tomorrow.”

  Truth was filled with concerns. Perhaps he hadn't been attentive enough, or paid too little heed to Samos's foreign environment. He remembered that in the second communication, he had responded impatiently. Perhaps Smoke had broken under the strains of solitude and was too exposed to the enemy's influence. Despite the gentler tones he had used in the last communication, he wondered if he had not done enough. A sudden impulse prompted him to say something that would compensate for his possible mistake.

  “You are not alone. All the Gnostics are with you.”

  Smoke was surprised. “In the dark of night we will know the light. Soon we will be in pleroma with the Gods.”

  For as long as he had known him, Truth had never heard Smoke's voice sound so serene. This was probably the effect of the station. Perhaps he had erred in sending someone so elusive. Perhaps he was too sensitive, which made him easily influenced. He might have done better to have sent one of the tougher ones, the more impenetrable ones, like Flash for instance. But what's done is done.

  “May the Master of Light be with us all. Over and out,” Truth said.

  Truth wandered about amongst the warriors on the father ship. He visited the pilots' platform, the badgers' operations room and the lounges. His soldiers were under such enormous tension that it was almost tangible; their patience was wearing thin. For lack of instruction, they milled about aimlessly. Some checked their equipment. Others found themselves in petty fights in an attempt to break the tension.

  He knew everything there was to know about the mental preparation required by a fighter before battle. He could not stretch this situation out much longer.

  CHAPTER 18

  Smoke began to wake up and stretch. He expected to see Sophia at his side. To his surprise, she was not there, and when he noticed that he missed her, he sat up in a panic. Only when he noticed her sitting on the couch on the other side of the room did he relax.

  “Did you sleep well?” she smiled.

  “Ah... yes.” In fact, Smoke hadn't slept so well in years. On the flip side, the very fact that he took off his armor and was not wary of sleeping inside the enemy base alarmed him. He jumped quickly from the bed and Sophia held out a drink to him.

  “What is this?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “Hibiscus flower essence. It's refreshing.” Smoke gulped the drink and found it delicious. He recalled his mother's image in the simulator. He felt his heart spreading inside of him.

  Sophia noticed the clarity in his eyes and decided to take a chance with the next stage. “I want to be honest with you...”

  His senses sharpened and his muscles tensed. Was she trying to mock him? “I'm listening.”

  “I have no interest in burdening either of us with the confusion of concealment. That is why I am going to be frank with you and tell you, here and now, that I know about the module. I know that in the past, you developed a module that was destroyed in the Great Blast. I know that you now have a new module in your possession, one that is waiting with Truth in the orbital route.”

  'It's a trap,' thought Smoke. 'I should notify Truth immediately.' “It does not surprise me that you are trying to wrap me in your witchcraft,” he protested.

  “Have you heard of Attar?” she asked.

  Smoke deliberated whether he should answer her question. In the end, he decided that there wouldn't be any problem admitting that he heard of Attar, since there was nothing about that that admitted to the existence of the module. On top of that, if he afforded her the chance to continue, it was likely that her plan would become apparent. “Yes,” he replied, “He was the Pythagorean that was killed in the explosion.”

  “Let me tell you something that the Gnostics do not know. Attar was my father.”

  This was not what Smoke had expected to hear. He looked incredulously at Sophia. She nodded and continued. “He was my father. He understood that he was going to die at the hands of the Gnostics in any event, so he decided to commit a suicide operation. He destroyed himself along with the module and the entire Gnostic research compound in Uruk. He sacrificed his life to save me, save the galaxy and, indirectly, save you.”

  “The Gnostics saved me! My life belongs to the Gnosis! You lie. The compound was destroyed by the condemned one whose name has been erased,” he said firmly, but a sort of confusion had sprung up inside him. He didn't know what to think. On the one hand, he thought that there could be a grain of truth in her words. It was possible that Attar had collaborated with the condemned one whose name had been erased.

  “So you owe an enormous debt to the Gnosis,” replied Sophia. “They saved you from the worst possible tragedy and gave you a home, a sense of belonging and purpose. They basically gave you a reason for living,” she continued. “I am not telling you to wipe out your debt to the Gnosis. I believe that you must repay your debt to the very fullest. That is why I want you to save them from the danger that they pose to all of us and to themselves. Our purpose is to cooperate with you, so save us all and the Gnosis from itself.” Sophia studied Smoke. He looked thoughtful. 'Could it be that the Gnostics are more humane than I had imagined? Could I have possibly succeeded in stripping away a layer of his defenses?'


  She continued. “The Gnostics saved you from losing yourself. What would have happened if they had not taken you in?”

  “I would have died,” he answered candidly.

  “This is the source of your feeling that you owe them your life. But I think otherwise. Because they saved you, you owe them their lives. You must save them!” she said emphatically.

  Her words struck him like an iron bullet. The shock that he felt from the moment he arrived in Samos intensified. He was torn between his strict loyalty to the Gnosis and his commander Truth, and his loyalty to the truth that was arising within him.

  Sophia recalled the fear that she felt when her spiritual outlook had collapsed in her encounters with Enosh. “Not long ago, I was in your shoes,” she said understandingly. “Had my eyes not been opened to my blindness, I would still have believe in the Pythagorean ideal. I would have still been trapped in the repetitive logic of perfect order, which allows no room for changes or spontaneity. I would have been trapped in hermetic fullness, which would not have allowed me any ability to relate to you or to accept you.”

  The pulse in Smoke's head pounded wildly. Sophia verified that Smoke was listening and continued cautiously. “Today, I still enjoy the beauty of order, but I am no longer imprisoned by it. I know now that order is not everything and that complete order would be stagnation and death. As you said, the bombs did not fall according to any order. But the Pythagoreans and I refused to acknowledge this. We insisted on seeing only the order and ignored all the rest. I could not imagine a situation in which I would have a relationship with someone who was planning on killing me, someone whose culture turned me into an orphan.” Smoke was speechless. “I invite you to trust me and free yourself from ruination.”

  His eyes beckoned her to continue.

  “Just like you trusted your parents, the Master of Light and Truth.”