Mesopotamia - The Redeemer

by Yehuda Israely

  Whatever had been opened inside of Smoke during the encounter with his mother and now begun to close. 'How?' he repeated to himself. 'Traitor!' he heard Truth's voice in his head.

  “Leave me be.” Smoke put his hands over his ears and stepped backward. The image of his mother in the simulator kept flashing in his mind. Love, fear and anger engulfed him in a whirlpool of emotions. Voices spoke in his head.

  'Traitor!' said Truth.

  'Mother!' said a young boy.

  'Iamcosmosiamcosmosiamcosmosiam...' he said to calm himself. 'I must calm down and plan my next move,' he thought. 'I need to find out more about the processor; after all, that was why I was sent here.' Focusing on his goal calmed his raging emotions. 'I must continue and learn to use the simulator.' He tried to convince himself that another encounter with his mother would actually serve the Gnosis. 'I am tempting them into trusting me,' he repeated in his mind.

  Despite his opposition, she felt like she was progressing in the right direction. “Take a chance on trusting me. Up to now, you knew how to take a chance. After all, you could not have survived had you not taken a chance and trusted. How did you trust the Gnostics? Will you trust me and tell me?”

  The desire to speak to a listening ear engulfed him like warm, sticky honey. Even though his plans had been revealed, he convinced himself that he should continue to create a ruse of trust anyway. 'At Truth's command, I must continue to drag it out. If she thinks that she is recruiting me to betray the Gnosis, so be it. My ruse will only be more believable.' He believed that he was tricking her when he told her his feelings.

  “The entire Gnostic training was directed at the lofty fusion that was slated to happen one day. From the first moment, from the day when they held our initiation ceremony and gave us our names, they made it clear to us that we must abandon our personal boundaries. We were told that boundaries were an illusion, that we had been fortunate to have reached the enlightened ones, the Gnostics, which would teach us to open our eyes to the illusion of boundaries. In the first initiation ceremony, they gave us all names: 'Darkness', 'Light', 'Shadow', 'Spark', 'Fire', 'Smoke', 'Flash'--entities that lack clear boundaries. 'Smoke dissipates in all directions,' they told me when I received my name.”

  'Don't talk to them!' Truth's voice in his head silenced him. 'They are almost caught in my net,' he answered.

  Sophia saw that Smoke was hesitating. Something inside of him insisted on coming out. “They used to train us with various exercises in which we would lose our boundaries: spiral dance rituals in which we would lose our senses; dipping us in gelatin pools in which we could not feel our own skin for days on end, with no sense of time or the changing of light and darkness that indicate the delineation of time. We would repeat mantras in every free moment: 'Devotion, nullification, nothingness, devotion, nullification, nothingness, IamcosmosIamcosmos...”

  Shards of the picture of his youth appeared. “A few of the children cried and wanted their mothers. Some of them were beaten with a cane, but usually the crying episodes passed, thanks to the training. Many of them forgot themselves and their longings, like I did, but there were children who were uninfluenced by the various integration rituals and beatings they received, who continued to cry for their mothers. These children were sent away so that they would not weaken the rest of us and tempt us to return to the world of illusion.”

  “Your instructors were also orphans. They also tried to forget what they had lost. They also did not want to awaken within themselves a longing for something that they had lost forever,” said Sophia. “They felt a need to erase the painful feeling as to not feel the pain of loss. But now you are allowed to hurt. There is something to hurt for.”

  Sophia came closer to him and looked straight into his eyes. “These are difficult words, but they are important for you to hear at some point in your life.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I think that they will never return to the living and we cannot know if you will be with them when you die. But as long as you are breathing, you must belong to the living. But you do not have to give up the memory of your family.”

  Smoke flung her off of himself and raised his hand in rage and frustration. He considered silencing the painful truth with force, but overcame this impulse. Something inside of him wanted to hear more. Something inside of him wanted to live.

  “The simulator can return lost moments of your past. It can bring you to meet the Master of Light,” said Sophia. “It can bring you to meet with your long gone family.”

  “My family awaits me in the nothingness,” Smoke intoned mechanically.

  “Your belief in nothingness is standing in your way and prevents you from being loyal to the Gnosis,” said Sophia.

  “How dare you doubt my loyalty to the Gnosis!” Smoke's arm rose again in Sophia's direction. She remained in place without flinching.

  From his lookout at the screen, Enosh wanted to intervene but held himself back. 'I cannot be a part of this process.'

  “Listen to me!” said Sophia. “You do not have to agree with me. Your loyalty is important, but only you can define what your belief means to you. I am interested in convincing you about the righteousness of my worldview regarding the significance of loyalty, but it is clear to me that if you adopt this view, you cannot operate according to it.”

  He was silent and went back to repeating his mantra to himself in an attempt to stop himself from thinking, but what he really wanted to do was to meet his mother again in the simulator.

  His silence encouraged her. “I believe that if you are loyal to the Gnosis, you must do everything in your power to uphold their existence and prevent them from destroying themselves.”

  Smoke looked at her in confusion, though no longer in anger.

  She took the chance that now would be a good time to leave Smoke alone with his thoughts.

  He wondered if there was any point in reporting to Truth. Perhaps it would ease his confusion. On second thought, he understood that it would only serve to exacerbate his misery. He would try to mumble something without any new information because he was unable to express the truth—that he really wanted to return to the simulator. Did Truth still trust him? Did he still matter in his eyes? Would he have still saved him from the abyss, against all Gnostic tenets? Or, even worse, did he himself believe anymore that he was deserving of such trust?

  He understood that Truth, as well as Sophia, could not help him. Only he could redeem himself from this confusion. It became obvious to him what he must do to clarify his thoughts.

  After participating in his first massacre, he had felt lost. He isolated himself and became withdrawn. Even then, he debated continuing on the Gnostic path. The internal searching led him to continue to cling to the Gnostic faith. The Master of Light appeared to him and removed any doubts. He hoped that he would receive an answer now too.

  He repeated the words 'devotion, nullification, nothingness' over and over again in order to empty his mind of thoughts. At the beginning, he let his thoughts pass over him like birds across his field of vision. Instead of sinking into the usual nullification trance, he began to daydream about a single word that was caught in his head: 'arbitrariness'.

  'I am here in Samos, so far from the place I called home. The squadron, Uruk, Earth. Arbitrariness... I escaped the marks of getting hit by my maneuvers due to arbitrariness. The Gnostic faith is arbitrary... the Gnosis that found me, adopted me, it could all be something else. No! The only thing that could have happened certainly did happen. Even now, connecting the module to the processor, learning about the simulator, these are the only things that can happen and they are happening. Destroy Samos. Truth forbade me from harming the processor. He permitted me to destroy myself. He permitted it only if it was absolutely necessary. Death. Peace... the ability to forget... to blur...'

  Smoke came to his senses after some time—he could not tell if it had been a long time or a short time. Seconds, maybe minutes. He sank once more into a daydream 'Arbitrariness... Truth adopted me.
How can I betray him? My mother in the simulator. How can I abandon her? Loyalty... mission... purpose. Randomness... coincidence... haphazardness. Arbitrariness? Truth is the way he is because he is also a refugee adopted by the Gnosis. The Gnosis is the way it is because Adamas argued with Orpheus about the formula of the creational constant. The Gnosis is what it is. The Pythagoreans are what they are. Adamas and Orpheus failed to cooperate because their natures and their fates were different. They did not choose their natures. Arbitrariness... the believers of primitive cultures had no choice but to reach mutual destruction. Where is my father, who does not even exist in my memory? A bomb fell specifically on him before I was even cognizant of my existence. The bomb did not choose him, nor he it. The targeting computer and the spirits of the heavens did not choose to drop that bomb specifically on him. He died out of arbitrariness.' He felt the difficulty of clinging to any sort of meaning. He was caught in the dilemma of lack of meaning. Why? Because! Randomness... anxiety... discomfort... horror!

  He did not make the daily report to Truth.

  CHAPTER 19

  They were all impatiently waiting for the battle. The soldiers repeatedly checked their equipment and weapons. Each detail was important, but the commander's honor came first. They dropped their things, stood at attention and lowered their heads when he passed. Truth was not lax about the hierarchal ritual, even at the last moments before the invasion. He only stopped long enough to give the order of “At ease!” because he knew that by looking at his soldiers, he inflamed their enthusiasm for battle. He loved them, in the limited manner that the Gnostic culture allowed him to feel love.

  The halls of the ship were similar to the Gnostic compound in Uruk on Earth, covered in black opaque boards that covered the delicate metal components, the nervous system of the space ship. The larger cables and pipes were dark gray and black, which blended in with the shades of light gray on the body of the ship. Truth turned left and ascended to the upper level. He approached his chair in the command station. His substitute, Flash, stood up quickly and positioned himself tensely beside him.

  Years earlier, Truth had entered the squadron room under his leadership in order to arrange the formation for the members of the squadron. He could already note at the first glance the extreme cleanliness of the room, with its rolled up fastened plastic mats leaning against the wall. Everything was satisfactory. He approached the door of the great closet attached to the plastic wall to examine the folded uniforms of the squadron members. When he stood by the closet, Truth noticed a rustling sound coming from inside. He swung the door open and found Flash inside. Copious blood flowed from Flash's temples onto his face, dripping onto his clothes and the floor of the closet. His hand clutched a sharpened metal point. The expression of horror mixed with relief that came over the boy's face before he fainted from blood loss never left Truth's memory. He took the point out of his hand, wiped it on his uniform pants and lifted the bleeding, unconscious boy in his arms.

  Truth was different from most of the other Gnostic commanders: He felt pity for the orphans in his command. Any other commander would have glanced at the bleeding boy, close the closet door and marked a grade of “fail” to the members of that squadron. The Gnostic leaders preferred clean suicides whenever possible. The odds that hundreds of thousands of war orphans would succeed were not very high. Many orphans proceeded to wander about on the streets, dressed in rags, starving and diseased, until they died. Only those lucky enough were gathered in by pillaging pirates to be sold to the Gnosis. Many of them did not withstand the military strictness that was forced upon them. Incidences of suicides were common. The chain of command mostly ignored what was classified as “accidents”. The Gnostics placed great trust in their filtering system. They preferred the unyielding quality of those few who managed to balance their suicidal tendencies with their murderous tendencies, who could tie their fate to the cosmic loss in the Gnostic fashion. The Gnostics searched out and encouraged those who were prepared to murder and commit suicide only on command.

  Even as a child, Truth had been different from most of the Gnostics, and this difference gave him a survival advantage. In addition to his immense physical strength and his high endurance, he excelled in his ability to see the bigger picture. This analytical skill allowed him to find creative solutions to problems. When he set a goal for himself, he focused on it until he achieved it, whatever the cost may be. He knew in no uncertain terms that there was no turning back, and was not distracted by longing for his past. Since he had been taken in by the Gnostics at a relatively advanced age, he was more independent and did not expect his Gnostic commanders to fill the role of his parents. He did not compete with the other orphans, who tried to win over the hearts of the commanders. The sadness that always accompanied him was seen by the others as charismatic aloofness. He effortlessly received his position as a natural leader, lying outside the hierarchal order.

  During Truth's youth, when he became the Squadron leader in Uruk, and finally became the commander of the ship, Truth's sadness had two facets. On the one hand, he was more sensitive to the suffering of the young orphans, sometimes going easy on them during the cruel endurance tests. On the other hand, he tried to ward off the sadness by developing indifference and numbness toward himself; when that numbness became second nature, he succeeded in freeing himself from it only in situations of extreme physical effort or pain. This was the source of his addiction to pain, which he consumed in increasing quantities. Like many other children, he picked at his scabs in order to prevent or delay their coagulation. This way, he accumulated many scars that stood out on his dark skin, which lent him a hardened appearance. While other Gnostic children sufficed with the ceremonial tattooed spot behind their right earlobe, Truth covered his face and other parts of his body with tattooed spots. Even if there had been a connection between his broken heart and the tattoos on his chest, between his desire to close his eyes to the suffering of the orphans and the tattoos on his eyelids, he was not aware of it. The most important thing to him was that each additional spot granted him another day of pain, to momentarily rid himself of the deadening numbness.

  In Flash's eyes, Truth was like a God on Earth. Each spot on Truth's skin mesmerized him. He believed that the arrangements made by the spots were some sort of secret code. This was how he tried to interpret Truth's reasoning for adding tattoos to specific places on his skin. He tried to imitate him, but did not dare tattoo himself like Truth had done, until that day when Truth found him bleeding in the closet. In contrast to Truth, he felt his emotions: he harbored feelings of love for Truth. In fact, he was motivated by the pain he felt when Truth did not reciprocate his love. Now, as leader of the rebel Brotherhood of Purity, he wanted to hurt Truth. His hate stemmed from his tremendous and unrequited love.

  “At ease,” Truth released Flash and took his place in the seat. He began abruptly. “Smoke's initial reports from Samos were exact and to the point, and he relayed important information about how to infiltrate Samos.”

  “If I may, Sir.”

  “Yes, Flash.”

  Flash took a chance. After he was completely repelled in the mess hall, he tried anyway to return to that same point he had made earlier. “I am confident in Smoke's honesty and professionalism, but we are not familiar with the female. We should not rule out the possibility that his arbitrary elusiveness could not withstand the calculated order of the Pythagoreans. I am not ruling out the possibility that the female enchanted him with her womanly seductions.”

  Truth debated how to answer him. He understood that he had exhausted his influence as a commander and he now must convince Flash. The rivalry between Smoke, the talented, confident young man who was destined to replace him one day, and Flash, the veteran and experienced soldier, was not lost on him; but Flash had not been blessed with the natural talent and charisma that was so necessary for such a complex leadership. Flash was an excellent substitute, but was not made of the stuff from which leaders are made. Truth tried to e
xplain his position patiently, even though his status as commander did not dictate this as necessary. Despite this, he considered the possibility that maybe Flash was right.

  'Even if he is enchanted, we cannot allow ourselves to judge Smoke without a trial,' mused Truth. 'It will undermine the confidence of our soldiers. We cannot amputate him from our body as if he were a useless limb. We must keep them confident that when we send them alone on a mission, they will continue to be a crucial limb on the Gnostic body. If the Pythagoreans brainwashed him, we must try him, and then use this trial as a tool to strengthen the loyalty of the entire Gnosis. Rumors that Smoke has been abandoned are liable to weaken the soldiers, especially in the middle of an invasion. What is more, we are not even sure that we can properly attach the module. We may need our forces and their loyalty for many more years.'

  After all, Smoke was not just another soldier out of many. The warriors of the invading forces knew about Truth's relationship with Smoke. They knew that if Truth did not merit becoming the Redeemer, the task would be passed on to Smoke. Therefore, if any doubt was cast on Smoke, it would be equivalent to an admission that Truth's judgment as a leader was not worthy of their trust. “I understand your concern, but we must not suspect Smoke until we can clarify the facts,” Truth tried to placate Flash.

  “What are your orders, Supreme Father?” asked Flash.

  “My orders,” he hesitated for a moment, and then his voice became firm. “I want a report on the readiness of the invading forces. Personnel, tools and tactical plans. I want all of the light aircraft in a spherical distribution around Samos' external sphere. I want at least one light aircraft to be aligned with each of the light chords of Samos' external sphere. I want each of these light aircrafts to be ready to move up close to the chord and execute a flip, twirl and then enter into the internal spheres on his own, on command. I want a spherical cover of heavy aircraft around the layer of lighter invading crafts. The heavier forces must prevent the Pythagorean scouts from escaping from the station and prevent any outside aid from entering. See to it that the crafts are constantly in a state of preparedness. See to it that the shifts are replaced every eight hours. It may be some time before the actual invasion takes place. I want a complete siege: no one must enter and no one must leave Samos.”