by Phillip Shaw
He had been arrested at first for drug use but something much worse was discovered. Jade had only been seventeen. While legal in his homeland, seventeen was certainly not legal for the scenes they had been shooting in the film. The press became aware of it and within hours, questions were asked. James was accused of forcing these drugs on a minor. Her parents were the driving force; they couldn't believe that their little girl would do any of this of her own will. He hadn't helped himself in the courtroom. In the first hearing when Jade was being spoken off as a college hopeful, head of the cheerleading squad and regular church goer James had snapped and said ‘You forgot expert cock sucker'. His wit had always got him in trouble. He was convicted of first-degree murder, branded a sex offender and peddler of cheap pornography. It didn't matter in America that none of this was true; the easy story for the media was to blame the outsider, blame the maverick film director. No one looked at the apple pie family. All he had wanted was to better himself, be free of restraints. Now the last minutes of his life were the greatest restraint.
The door opened and his guards came to take him. ‘Coates? You Ready?' What a stupid question, are you ready to die? James thought the question should have been saved for a line in a movie when two great warriors faced off. Not when he was going to be taken into a white room, changed into medical robes and killed. Despite this, he had to reply and the guards were fond of him, some even had tears in their eyes. Guess he still had that effect on people; they just seemed to hang on his every word.
As he was being walked down the hall he tried to take in every detail, the prison had never looked cleaner, looks like they had shined it up just for him, The governor led the way, ‘The victim's parents will be behind the glass, needless to say, your own can't make it' That was an understatement, his father had put a hosepipe in the car window when the media storm broke and his mother was in an asylum. ‘Reach for the stars son', that had gone well. ‘Of course, the leader of the free James movement will be there' jibed the governor.
It just got worse, as soon as he was sentenced his attorney had tried to get the sentence reduced, the campaign had gained quite a following among people of non-American descent. Mexicans, Irish, Hispanic and European citizens living in Texas had rallied to protest outside the jail, none more doggedly than Pamela Harding, assigned to defend him by the state she seemed to have come under his spell as most people did after a few one on one sessions, at least, he had something to look at during her visits, blonde, bespectacled and in business suits, she was a cliché in herself, if he had put her in a movie or book it would have been called puerile voyeurism but she was real and devoted to saving his life. She was fighting a losing battle.
Their last meeting hadn't gone well, as usual they sat across from each other in the sanitised room, James, complimented her on her dress as usual and made jokes that if he wasn't locked up he would buy her a drink, her standard response was ‘behaviour like this got you in here, I wish you learned from your mistakes!' they had argued and then she broke the news, there would be no more appeals, the sentence would be carried out In six days, he was done.
The door to the room opened and he saw the mirrored glass and the seat he would take. ‘Sterile isn't it' the nearest guard laughed before being admonished by the prison governor. ‘Share your jokes with on the other side'. James stepped into the room looked at the mirror and smiled. Some of the people behind there had only seen him on news reports or from the other side of a courtroom. Jade's parents hadn't spoken to him directly since screaming at him as the guilty verdict was passed. A smile might let them realise that behind the bravado there was just a man who had kept reaching for the stars, it hadn't meant to end like this.
Pamela had tried to have a meeting this morning hoping for one last appeal to the attorney general. Short of everyone in the room behind the glass changing their opinion on him it would only delay the inevitable. He sat in the chair, the priest began to read and he said he had no final words, the call didn't come the miracle didn't happen, he was here to be extinguished, the fire in him had died a few months ago the rest of his supporters would be well to follow the same path.
The IV was hooked into his arm and he waited for whatever followed.
A great blinding light struck him, his chest began to expand and the air was not there. Instead of embracing this as death he felt something else. He felt the freedom, he felt the sense that his mind had become open to learning everything, he thirsted for knowledge, not to store it but to advance it. The searing pain in his body and mind burnt away and he looked around the room. Time was still, it seemed to him that everyone was on pause. He saw a name on the door James Coates. He knew it was him, but it wasn't. He was Libero and he was awake.
He had all the feelings and memories of this vessel, James, as with previous incarnations there was no chance to this, no random placement, Libero had grown inside this being and had awoken for a reason.
It didn't take long for him to realise what was going on, he was being killed. He looked for the nearest humans. Where is the executioner? He found him standing over beside what looked like six canisters and a button. He didn't have much time he fixed the man with a stare, looked into the eyes, he felt the man's aspirations, desires and fears, he could show this man the way, he could get him to leave all this behind, open himself to learn new things and teach him to surpass what he thought was his limit. This wasn't all he felt. He sensed the block on the man, like a puppet dancing to the whims of his master, he was not doing this of his own free will. It was weak and getting weaker in his presence.
‘Brad, is this, what you want'? Libero said. The words came out like a feeling as much as sound, he felt them going into the man's mind and taking root. The man stopped, he set the control down and stared back. Libero smiled. He had been easy; he would probably choose to follow him to the end, he was already broken, he just needed to be rebuilt.
The prison governor burst into the room. ‘What is the meaning of this? Brad, it's time press the button. Don't tell me you have forgotten what to do?' Brad stopped and said ‘He's right, I can't do this. I can be better than this.'
Libero felt for the governor. Looked for his desires, ambitions any way that he could make the connection with the man instead all he found were limits. The governor was against him. Searching the memories of the host he could tell that this man had always kept him down had always been a block on him, he must be stopped, and quickly. He searched the man again, he wasn't powerful, there was a chance but he would need more help. Libero began screaming, more people burst into the room, more help, he started feeling their potential he began to speak.
‘Listen to me. You were meant for more than this, you can be better; you can achieve what you want, with me. Are you with me'? The last words came out as a roar, immediately the people who had entered started smiling. They pleaded with the governor to let Libero go. The noise in the room was deafening. The governor had to stop this. He shouted and tried to make the guards obey his orders but it was too late the movement had started. No one would let the governor near the controls. The governor began speaking into his sleeve and two different females appeared. Dressed like secretaries, their movement betrayed their training. They immediately escorted the governor out of the room.
Two other people entered. They were middle aged and had the visitor pass on their chests. He looked into their eyes, man and woman. He saw they had the potential to forgive, to leave the pain behind, to evolve...
‘I didn't kill Jade, I was with her all night and we slept together. I won't insult you by saying I loved her, but I did not make her do anything she didn't want to. A day doesn't pass where I don't mourn her'.
The couple began to cry, not with sadness but with happiness. ‘Thank you, thank you, we're sorry this has happened to you it wasn't your fault, we can see that now. We will get this stopped.'
The room was now in chaos, people everywhere were in tears of happiness, the governor was looking on behind the mirrored glass, Libero
could feel him, but he couldn't reveal his true purpose yet. Libero would have to deal with him. Maybe he didn't realise how close he had been to ending it. If he did nothing would have stopped him. His master would hear of this and seek retribution if he was awake.
Libero thought the scene must look ridiculous. He remembered being a storyteller, it was in the recesses of his mind, useful, that was a new one before he had been a writer, philosopher, and a scientist. Now he was a filmmaker, there would be no point filming what was going on at the minute no one would believe it. Why would people suddenly call for the release of the man they wanted dead? A man they believed a murderer? It was so unbelievable that people all over would hear the tale, his persona would grow, more followers, more power, a chance to break free to remove the limits that had constrained the inhabitants of this world for too many ages. But first he would need to get out of this chair and a striking blonde woman at the door with tears in her eyes looked to be the key to that. There was work to be done; he must find his support, he needed denouncers.
3. Myanmar
Burma, it looked different on the internet, thought Aaron Darcy; he remembered the night drinking after college. He had to go travelling somewhere after all he didn't want a job at his age.
It was sitting round with his buddies that he had taken out his phone and typed temples into his search engine. He didn't know why, but the image of the Bagan region of Burma or Myanmar, as it was known in these parts of the world stood out. Two thousand ancient temples or pagodas covered sixteen square miles. Aaron wondered why he had never heard of it. He was reasonably knowledgeable, granted geography to him was pointless when you have the internet but still you would think he would have noticed this gem in South Asia.
Getting here was not as simple as stepping on a plane. He did the usual student journey taking in Bangkok, Vietnam and Laos, exploring the islands with his travelling companions and generally smoking, eating and drinking too much. Burma was a different place. Recent stories off mass relocation of the nation's Islamic population, peace marches and civil unrest meant that this was not a normal tourist trap. In fact, a quick internet search of the region only brings horror stories. It was part of the reason he wanted to go. ‘To see a nation beyond the headlines' he had bragged to his companions. He might even get a tattoo inspired by Burma if he could set his mind on what to get. Decisiveness was not one of his strong points. He had been smart enough to take a law degree in University but instead stuck with English. Then when this finished he realised the only thing he could do was teach. But teach what? How to waste your summer in Indonesia?
Firstly he had to get new money before getting past the border. Due to the fear of counterfeit notes you needed them fresh of the printer. Aaron joked to the border patrol that this was more suspicious but their lack of English and his smiling face led to an uncomfortable body search and interrogation. He was lucky he met English speaking Zen Yau.
Zen was a worker on the pipeline for natural gas that was being built between China and Myanmar. Aaron had noticed him as soon as he saw him. Tall, for an Asian, and built like the wall of a house Aaron thought to himself ‘that guy better not be security.' Luckily it turned out he was Aaron's security. Zen had heard the joke Aaron cracked and knew he would be in trouble if he didn't start showing respect. ‘What your name blondie? Do you not know where you are? Myanmar is no place for Englishman's jokes.' Zen was right Aaron Darcy was almost at the end of his adventure.
Darcy sat in a humid cell waiting for whatever was going to befall him. He had seen movies and TV shows of what could happen in far off countries. Could he lose a body part for this? He almost began to weep, inner strength was one thing but being alone with a backpack in a foreign country was something else. Besides, no one he knew could see him crying. He looked out the small window of the cell and saw some locals playing Chinlone, he didn't know the rules but it lifted his spirits. As he watched the men try to keep the small ball in the air the door opened. The translator said ‘Please enter our country and respect its laws'. Darcy was puzzled but he wasn't going to argue he rushed to the door and gathered his stuff. Walking through he felt a vice grip on his shoulder, Zen. The man had explained the joke to the border patrol, and then for their own joke they had continued the search and interrogation. Or that's what Darcy chose to believe. The alternative was that he had just been released to be disposed of in a way that wouldn't cause a fuss.
‘Why you come to Myanmar?' said Zen his huge muscles visible through a black t-shirt and cargo pants. Darcy responded with a shrug of the shoulders ‘I just wanted to do some travelling, have some parties and see this' he held up a picture of' Dhammayangyi'.
The huge temple built in 1170 A.D. was thought by some to be a temple built for atonement by King Narathu who rose to power by assassinating his father and elder brother. Its sheer size set it apart from other temples. But there was a mystery about it. The inside was bricked up for some reason. Darcy just wanted a picture of him standing beside it for a good profile pic, he didn't have time for a history lesson this was meant to be a gap year after all. Zen looked at the picture. ‘Size matters' he said. Darcy Laughed, Zen seemed like the kind of person who might stop him getting into any more trouble with the locals. One thing was for sure getting to the temple was not as easy as hopping on a sightseeing bus. Zen said ‘I need drink, you drink?' it was the best thing anyone had said to him since Vietnam.
As they sat drinking Darcy began trying to find out something about this man mountain. His mind began to wonder about a few disturbing thoughts. 'What if he's a human trafficker, an organ harvester, a recruiter for some militia or something worse'. As Darcy found out Zen, was an engineer, he was in the capital on a few days leave from the hard work of laying the natural gas link with his own country China. As the night and the drinks got shorter they decided to spend the last few days of Zen's leave travelling to the temple region Bagan or Pagan as Zen called it giving it its ancient title. He had left all his own friends in Laos for this sojourn so it made sense to him to find a new one. Zen may as well have lived in Myanmar with how long the pipeline had been in building. He should have been a student. He just agreed to everything as long as it seemed like fun. He made so much money on this project that he probably wouldn't need to work when he returned to China. So over tequila from a waitress that had seen too many travellers they planned how they would avoid the pitfalls of Myanmar and reach the ancient lands.
Zen and Darcy began the journey from the capital, Naypyidaw eight hours on a cramped bus with some other sightseers, not the journey that needed the drunken planning the night before. At least, on the bus, there would be minimal monkeys. ‘Nobody put that in the brochure' said Darcy. Zen laughed and looked at the bus drivers pet. Monkeys in Myanmar were not the playful kind. Most of them looked like they had been in a street fight. Ears, eyes and noses were bloodied or missing. Hopefully, reincarnation did not punish him for being a gladiator monkey. But the thought of ruining some art student's day by knocking over their canvas and stealing their food made him laugh as he dosed off.
Darcy awoke with a start; Zen was staring out the window at the ancient land of Bagan. As they approached on the crowded bus more and more of the travellers woke up. Instead of shock and commotion, there was a shrouded awe in the vehicle. The temples were glorious. The rock had been aged on them all to uniformed terracotta and they looked like some distant Gods private collection. Against the backdrop of the mountains, the object of their journey stood tall, the largest temple, the template for most ancient temples in modern media. Its large base rising sequentially to a plateau was everything Darcy had dreamed of. A few images of him being here at sunset and, more importantly, sunrise the next day would be something to show the rest of the world forever.
Zen found them a place to bed down for the night with a local family. Darcy wasn't sure if this was normally a guesthouse but they looked only too happy to let them in and share their food. They also had a good view of the area. It had to ha
ve been a battleground once upon a time thought Darcy; it was too perfect, assaulting the area hidden by mountains, a nice flat plain. It was like something from a book. He wondered as he often did at nights while travelling, ‘if anything happened to this area would the world even know?' It seemed like a place for people to hide. With the only recently lifted media restrictions, it was as off the grid as a civilised country could be. There were no mobile phone towers dotted around the landscape and you had to travel for half a day to feel connected again. His digital camera was saved for special occasions as USB charging stations were a bit advanced for ancient Buddhist temples. One picture so far had been of Zen with the temple in the background. Both were impressive specimens. He wondered if his sister would be interested. She was back in London writing pointless stories for one of the dozens of news outlets. She should have come with him; it might have given her a decent story for once.
Morning came and they set off towards the temple. Sitting on a log they sparked up some cigarettes. Tobacco was running low and for a first smoke of the day, it was ok to roll it weak. They looked at the other temples they would pass on the way. All of them no doubt had their own history and mystery. Some had little Buddha figurines in them making them look like children's playhouses others looked like ancient tombs rose from the earth at the command of a greater being. It truly was an undiscovered gem on the planet.
There were a few other travellers around when they got to the base of the temple. Darcy had ambitions of climbing to the top, but this was not the time for bravado. It was a time for awe. The sun rising in the east shone a golden glow over the temple highlighting every crack and crevice. He had seen pictures of the pyramids in Egypt but to his mind, the temple was an architectural beacon. How had the designers of the world lost this ability in favour of cramming as many people into as tall a building as humanly possible? Zen had the camera and began to take some snaps, nothing artistic at this stage just some normal online profile stuff. Then Darcy took the camera. He aimed at the top section and began to slowly zoom out as he took a video.