"You are so-o-o scrumptious!" I told her as I folded the lizard body into my throat. I was still relishing the taste of her when I caught the scent of the hunting party. I made for my burrow only to find myself cut off by the yelps of a pack of dogs. They were on me in an instant, and I upon them. I gored one badly and frightened two more, but still others attacked me from behind. The sound of the fray brought the men with their arrows and spears. One shaft wedged between my shoulders and struck me to the heart.
I caught the eye of my slayer, the Householder himself, and in that moment we Ratified The Devour. But he did not hold the Here of Those-Who-Had-Become-My-Life, and I was forced to pass from my body without his full acknowledgment of what was taking place between us. Puzzled and uncompleted, I tarried above my lifeless form as it was borne to a cookhouse, there to be gutted, dressed, spitted, roasted and splayed upon a flat dish, a sweet boiled apple forced between its distended jaws.
On impulse I entered the soft flesh that had so lately belonged to me, and rode inside it to a cheering banquet hall on the shoulders of two young men. I steamed with the cooked roots and greens that garnished my platter. I would be scrumptious, I knew.
The hall fell silent. The Householder rose to his feet and spoke for all those gathered there. He addressed me and, to my great relief, began to hold the Here of Those-Who-Had-Become-My-Life: all the acorns and fruits and truffles, all the grains and roots and voles and crawling creatures, including of course the luscious lizard. I became the bridge over which the thankfulness flowed, from the hearts of hungry men and women to the endless layers of all who had invested themselves in the flesh and flower of my dark body.
"You have not died," the Householder said to me and to the foods surrounding me, "for you will live in each body here, in each spirit here, whom you will nourish. Everything that lives does so at the sacrifice of other beings. If ever we forget your sacrifice, and that of those who nourished you, then we forget who we are as true men, and we become capable of all manner of cruelty. Thus, for our part, we live each day in simple gratitude for the life you give us here tonight."
There was a trembling in the breaths that filled the eating hall as the people held the Here of Those-Who-Had-Become-My-Life.
The Here-ing was complete. As I lifted from the body and turned toward Home, the voice of a bard followed me. He sang of the spear, the bow, the hunt, and of the wild boar reverently taken by brave men and dogs.
I drifted in the shallow sulfur pool, my eyes adding salt to the waters that lapped at my chin. I still felt my four hooves, my curved tusks and my black bristles. . .the apple in my mouth. I quivered in the acclaim of all those upon whom I had fed; I was celebrated by the people who were feeding on me. I barely could distinguish any one of us from the other. The Devourer and the Devoured.
All was acknowledged. All was well.
I began lifting myself apart from the flesh and turning toward Home. I had not felt such peace since I was three, not since Little Tz'u and Big Tz'u held me between them in the broad bed.
I remember Home, I thought. Home was the daffodils and azaleas and orchids that crowded our little house in the city. Home was a pale blue, eggshell-thin bowl filled with peaches or with wine-softened quince, it was rain on black tiled roofs, and bamboo fans in the heat of summer. Home was Big Tz'u's arms swinging me high and Little Tz'u singing in the twilight before my bedtime. Home was everything I knew.
But on that New Zealand mountainside, what I thought I knew was suddenly expanding in bursts of vibrating energies: in patterns, axes, languages, and architectures, all of them exploding simultaneously before my eyes, like cherry blossoms at the sudden birth of spring. Home was becoming vast.
Home was a Stream of vibrant joy that flowed through me, through every living thing — and every thing that was, was living! Home was the banks of that Stream of joy, where I stood with healthy legs and reached out to hold a blue-white marble that hung in space against a velvet black eternity. My arms enfolded it all, its oceans, its icecaps and its clouds, its mountains and its cities, its rivers and towns and plains and forests — and all its inhabitants. I held it in my arms, my planet home, my Little Blue. And it in turn held me.
Home was both peace and wild excitement, a birthing each moment of new life, of a hundred billion new ideas and things. It was All Infinity, varied and still All One.
I stood in that flow and understood that we live forever.
There was a lurch. I wasn't Home anymore. Nor was I in the healing pools. I was in another body, dressed in greasy rags and holding a .30 caliber Garand I'd lifted from a Wuhan museum. Across my back was a clip belt, and in my craw all the pent-up rage of an upbringing filled with poverty and abuse. The Girls In Red were scaling the north wall of the Wuchang cotton mill, and I had the topmost one in my sights. I checked my magazine and took up my easy bead again. Give it to her in the head? No, T'ung, give it to her in the back. That'll drop her and stop her, maybe for good. I lowered my aim and started breathing back the trigger.
"You will not harm me, Su T'ung."
It was my own voice, the voice of the young Adjutant Major Lin-ci Win, the voice of the Amah scaling the wall. But it was in his head. . .in my head. . .in the head I was wearing, the one looking down the sights of the Garand. I let up on the trigger.
"You will not harm me," the voice said again, "because now you are a conscious man, aware of who you are, of what you do."
Su T'ung and Adjutant Win stood in the Stream, both of us At Home there, both of us washed over by peace, joy and well-being.
And there was only one of us.
"I'm in your sights," the voice reminded me. “You have a choice now, Yeh Su T'ung, a real choice."
"I see what I'm doing."
"Yes."
"I can still fire."
"You can. And if you do, that same world in which you and I have lived since that night will continue to be."
I did not fire the rifle. I had fired it once in another where, but I did not fire it here.
Then I was drowning in bad-tasting water, flailing at the rocks, struggling to right myself and keep my head in the air.
"Adjana!" I was shouting.
She came immediately, up from the lower camp to the side of the pool. I clutched her arms, almost dragging her into the water with me. "Get Chu, put the low rocket on standby," I gasped.
"The rocket?"
I clung to her strong body above me, my face close to hers. "We're going to the Marquesas, Adjana! We're going to the meeting of the Heart! Hurry!" I laughed. "Adjana, I have decided!"
Before she could obey me, we were assaulted by loud shouts and the sounds of a struggle from the direction of the camp. I heard the voices of my Jing-Chas above the scuffle, then a man's long howl.
"Magister!" It was Dani, ascending the path. "Magister, we have subdued an intruder! Please stay close to Adjana while we dispose of him!"
"No!" I called to her. "No, bring him here! Adjana, my sark! Quickly!"
"Magister!" Dani was protesting.
"I said bring him here! Bring him now!" I took my sark from Adjana, pulling it over my head and torso even as I remained seated in the pool. The light material floated like a tent about me. "Help me," I pleaded. Adjana tamed the long shift, covering me with it and tying it about my waist.
Dani and May were dragging a man up the hill. When they had assured themselves that I was ready for this strange audience, they pushed him to his knees directly across the pool from me and stood close behind him.
His robe was saffron, and his tonsure familiar. I had heard that he had entered a monastery upon his release from the bailiwick. He knelt now with his head bowed.
"Why have you come?"
Very slowly he raised his head, revealing eyes so full of love that I quickly looked away, lest they consume me with their fire.
"I have come to beg your forgiveness."
"You are already forgiven."
"And to see you whole."
I could
no longer avoid the embrace of those eyes, and in the moment of meeting them with my own, I felt a tingling in my lower body that I had never hoped to feel again. I was suddenly aware of my feet! I knew without looking that they rested on the rock shelf that inclined slightly downward to constitute the bottom of the pool. Still holding his eyes with my own, I leaned forward and cried out in astonishment. My legs, my own legs, were pushing me upward!
Yeh Su T'ung's face was radiant. I saw myself through his eyes: a thinly clad woman with water sliding down her body, a woman slowly straightening to an upright position, a woman standing on her own in a shallow pool.
From behind me, Adjana moved to steady me. I did not need her, for I was filled in every part of my body with strength and life!
Still through Su T'ung's eyes, I saw myself moving by my own power. Then I felt myself walking. . .at last. Practicing the lifting and placing of my joyful feet as I covered again and again the length of the northeastward speeding rocket, back and forth, back and forth, without rest! Then walking at last, in full Magister regalia, into the meeting of the Heart. Walking at last. Striding! Striding swift, striding long. And with Adjana soaring again and forever over the Gorges of the Yangtze, trailing clouds of glory as we flew!
It can be truly said that out of the Heart Of Darkness I came running.
14 - JOURNEY, MATRIX, STREAM – [2094 C.E.]
So still does spirit long for matter
as matter longs for spirit.
Wisdom Of The Ancients
Still on low fusion power, Jezebel banked the little solocush into a wide circle and looked down on the long, luminous path of the Canal. Limón Bay was just beginning to glisten in the early sun. Before her, and to the east, low mountains began their reach for Colombia; far to her right, Chiriquí -- or another mountain almost as high -- capped Panama's more rugged western range. Below her, a small flock of jaçanãs rose from one of the inland lakes and circled toward the south. She began her final descent.
Jezebel loved the anarchy of craftlanding pads. The Air Traffic Conditions Service, available only in the greater congestion of metropolitan areas, served a good purpose in describing prevailing circumstances to hovercraft, but after dispensing such information, ATC usually left flyers alone, trusting them to plan and negotiate their own take-offs or landings.
All four of her air jets puffed in perfect alignment as they lowered her to her parking berth on the chartreuse ring. She cut her power and checked the console for all-systems par. Voicing-in the necessary information about the hovercraft's most recent journey, she set the Maintenance Check Needed flasher, snagged her trip-pack, and kissed the solocush a thank-you-and-goodbye. She squeezed out of the little vehicle into a day already hot and humid.
She stood a moment, transfixed by the dense life that pulsed over the cush-rocket terminal's lush grounds just beyond her. Carefully tended gardens mingled their tender fragrances with the metallic smells of cushcar operation and light fusion afterburn; deep shade trees were filled with the sounds of birds and small mammals; fountains and waterfalls were ringed with reeds and tall grasses; a wild diversity of insects and amphibians animated the occasional ponds.
Through the crowd, Jez watched the passengers disembarking from the latest rocket. She caught sight of an old Magister cloak and the handsome figure who wore it.
Even before her smile had opened to its fullest measure, Zude was enveloping her. "Bella-Belle, Jezebel!"
"Steward Adverb!" Jez breathed into the graying hair. "It's been too long, Zudie."
"Years without the sweet touch of the fair Jezebel!" Zude held Jez at arm's-length. Her eyes were shining.
Jez's hands explored the muscles in Zude's arms and her back. "You feel great," she sent mentally, planting a brisk kiss on Zude's lips.
"Again!" urged Zella Terremoto Adverb. "Again!"
"Zude The Insatiable!" Jez laughed. They held each other in a swaying embrace while busy travelers stepped around them, carefully avoiding the bubble of their mindtalk.
Moments later Zude mumbled aloud, "Holocommunication is an admirable application of science, but there's just nothing like real flesh."
Jez gave her a parting squeeze. "We have to get moving," she said, steering Zude out of the arrival area. "I have plans for you."
"Oh, I hope so," Zude sighed.
Jez set their packs on mindtote just to her right in midair where she could shepherd them effortlessly, then slipped her left arm under Zude's right one. Easily, and with an old comfort, they entwined their fingers and held their forearms in a horizontal lock that kept their bodies close to each other as they walked.
"Bosca's staying in her sanctum," Jez said. "Bosca, that is, and a family of howler monkeys. She won't come out until day after tomorrow and won't vacate her body until next week. You'll have plenty of time to be with her."
"Why so soon, Jez? Her last message assured me she didn't want to go for another six months."
Jez veered their course toward the terminal's baños and restrooms. "She says she's feeling too big for her skin," Jez explained, "like one day soon she's going to explode. She says she has to do it now, get on to her next level. She wants us to take her body to the mountains of Sierra Madre del Sur for the wolves."
Zude smiled. "Of course." She sighed. "It'll be a great celebration. Folks will come from all over Aztlán to Sit Last Circles with Bosca."
"Will Yotoma come?"
Zude shook her head. "We won't be able to lure Flossie away from that god-forsaken aerie in Sierra Leone. Not even for Bosca."
"She's still communing with the great red condor and family?"
Zude laughed. "Yes. She's cold, she's high, and she's getting younger by the nanosecond."
They dodged a shyflyer who materialized in front of them with a baby in a hip sling. He shrugged a quick apology and made off toward the main terminal.
"Reggie. How's she doing?" asked Zude.
"Fine, as always." Jez was angling them toward the restrooms. "Living in the Yucatan with Bosca has been important for both of them." She guided them and their trip-packs through the baño's door sphincter.
Over the top of a multicolored comfort stall Zude commented. "I haven't seen her for months. She's probably shot up like a beanstalk."
"When you see her at Bosca's Last Circles you'll be looking up!" Jez turned a refresher funnel on and basked in its cool air.
Zude had to raise her voice to ask, "So how about Dicken? Will she get there?"
"No chance. She's pledged to a three-month deepsea expedition near the Tonga Trench. She sent a new ballad for Bosca that the elders will sing." Jez scratched her head vigorously with both hands and finger-combed her hair back into place. "Dicken's performing for the whales now. Drumming and singing. They charm her, then she charms them, then they charm her, and so on. I'm not sure we'll ever get her back."
Both women emerged from the baño in fresh clothes, and cooler by many degrees. Jez straightened Zude's collar, then led the way back to the terminal proper.
"So, best beloved," Zude grinned, "your plans for me! What are they? We rocket up to Cancún right away? We do Colón's games and races? Sail the mighty Caribbean?"
"There's a learning neighborhood over in Cativá that I want you to see. One of the teachers is especially noteworthy." Jez spoke easily as they walked. "They don't expect us at Bosca's until tomorrow night." She shot a glance at Zude. "And I figured Bosca wouldn't mind if we had a little vacation before we go to be with her."
She halted them by a flatscreen monitor and faced Zude.
"So, Zudie, will you spend the day with me, here in Panama?"
"Jezebel, I'd spend the day with you under the Arctic icecap if you asked me."
"Good!" She swept Zude and the trip-packs toward the terminal's underwater restaurant. "Food first, then Cativá, then some culture. And in the meantime there's so much to tell you!"
"Food!" Zude replied. "Now!"
* * * * * * *
They spent the morning in t
he festive ambience of Cativá, sampling lectures and demonstrations in the town's learning snugs, and strolling through the bustle of vending stalls and street performers. They were laughingly attempting to grasp the basic steps of the tarantella when they were drawn to a sudden commotion that arose just beyond them.
A small child was bawling her heartbreak to the heavens. Her cries were enhanced by the squawks and whistles of a hundred or so disturbed grackles in the surrounding trees. A thin boy was trying in vain to comfort the child.
"Lina-Lena," he cajoled, "you were a little too rough."
"She's gone!" wailed the child. "She just went away!"
"Maybe you were hurting her," the boy suggested.
"She wouldn't let me ride her!"
"Dogs don't like to be ridden, Lina, so she went shy."
Lina frowned. "Will she come back?"
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"Look, Lina," interrupted a nearby woman. She held a grackle on her finger. "Here's a bird."
A few people sat by, watching. Jez and Zude rested under a tree within hearing distance.
The child, the boy, and the woman sat with their eyes closed while the grackle explored the woman's hair with its beak.
"I'm in it, Señora Casco," the boy whispered earnestly. "I'm in the spacious awareness."
"Not if you're talking, you're not," laughed the woman. "Hush."
Another moment of silence, then Lina wiggled and whined. "I won't do it, señora! I don't like to!" She squirmed in the boy's arms. He released her.
"It's all right, Lina," said Señora Casco, "we can do this another time." She smoothed the girl's hair back. "You go along, now." She gave her a pat on the behind. "Raúl and I will be with the birds."
Suddenly, Lina's hand shot out. It grabbed the grackle. The grackle screeched.
"Let it go, Lina!" exploded the boy. "Let it go!" He tried to pry open the child's hands. The grackle struggled and squawked. Lina squeezed the bird tighter, pulling away from Raúl. She and the grackle were shrieking together.
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