by Vu, Frank
Sanaka moved so he could look at the underside of his forearm. A tiny protrusion on the surface of his skin projected a bright, opaque, five-by-three-inch display above his wrist. He motioned dejectedly above and through the display with his index and middle fingers . . . nothing. There was no Net access out here. Absurd.
The bus slid to a halt at an old wooden bench sitting on a worn patch of grass. Sanaka looked at his guide sitting next to him. He wore a pink T-shirt and had expressive brown eyes that sparkled with wonder at everything he saw. Tashi grinned and put an archaic handheld device in his pocket. Sanaka shook his head and grabbed the seat in front of him to pull himself to his feet. A dark cloud came over his vision; he immediately sat back down to clear the dizziness that overwhelmed him. That was not normal. Tashi put an arm on Sanaka’s shoulder in support, knowing that the feeling would pass.
“Don’t move too quickly,” he said. “You’re not accustomed to the air at this altitude. You could take a nasty fall.”
“I’ve had three days to get accustomed to this air,” Sanaka growled. “And you didn’t tell me the ride was going to take that long. In less than thirty minutes I traveled to a spaceport and was shot into orbit from the other side of the planet. Now we’ve taken three days to move a few hundred miles. This is madness!”
With the excitement of a dog greeting its owner, Tashi exclaimed, “We’re lucky the buses were running at all, bosu. There were only three breakdowns on the way. That’s probably a record! You can’t expect to travel to the navel of the universe as the orbital crow flies!”
Sanaka glowered at him as he considered punching his navel. Tashi was twenty-four years old and Tibetan born, but he knew the area and spoke multiple languages. This was why Sanaka was paying him five hundred millis a day to serve as his translator. It wasn’t surprising the boy was worried about his health. He wouldn’t get paid until they were back at the spaceport with Net access, which at this rate was going to earn Tashi two full bitcoins—a small fortune in this place. The boy was worried that he might lose his wealthy Japanese cash cow.
“I’ll carry your bag for you,” Tashi said, hauling a large satchel down from the overhead rack. “I’m used to the air on the plateau because I grew up on the slopes.”
“I’ll carry it myself,” Sanaka said, grabbing it. “You probably think I’m an old man, but I’d be willing to wager that I’m in better shape than you are.”
“It is not the load that breaks you down; it is the way you carry it, bosu!”
Sanaka immediately regretted taking the bag. The thin air made it feel as though he were lifting a one-hundred-pound sack of iron. He sagged for a moment as its weight pulled on his right arm. Despite the pain in his shoulder, he gripped the bag, not putting it down. He didn’t want the boy anywhere near the bag’s contents. The plastic zip ties, the duct tape—even though they were mixed in with his scientific instruments, Tashi would probably suspect Sanaka was planning to abduct someone, which was almost an accurate assessment of the situation. The etherbots in his bag, though, would probably go unnoticed, as they were simply in a vial by themselves and completely inert until activated. It had been Sanaka’s life’s work to develop them for scanning a live human brain and transmitting the information, an activity that tended to kill the subject under study but provided information that was critical to the understanding of consciousness. That vial was actually the most dangerous thing in the bag.
He suffered through the shoulder pain and looked ahead to the front of the bus. There were only five passengers on the bus, excluding Tashi and Sanaka. Of those passengers, only one seemed to be disembarking with them, an old man in a wool hat and a dark brown robe. He hobbled down the aisle in front of them at about two steps per minute. As they waited for the man to step tentatively down to the exit, Sanaka studied his neck; he wondered what it would be like to take his proton knife and slash it across the man’s throat. To see the blood spurt in a brilliant red geyser across the windows and floor would be glorious.
For a moment, Sanaka genuinely considered doing it, his fingers moving instinctively towards the sheath inside his jacket. But no. Although he probably could have gotten away with it in this remote location, he had too much else to do. Sanaka would have to save his fun for another time.
When they finally exited the bus, the air embraced them like a cold, invisible monster. Sanaka placed his satchel on the bench and tightened his jacket. Shivering, he rubbed his hands together and cursed this backward place. He sorely missed the seamless functioning of civilized society: tap a custom pattern on your wrist, a hovercraft arrives moments later and asks where you want to go. But that wasn’t an option here, not by a long shot.
The ground around the crude bus stop was covered with scraggly grass and low shrubbery, but no trees; the altitude was too high for trees to grow. As the bus pulled away, Sanaka could see a dirt path on the other side of the road leading towards Mount Kailash, a dome-shaped mound of striated sedimentary rock more than a kilometer high. Between the road and the mountain, he saw an old stone building with a few rectangular windows on its side.
“This pauper’s castle is our destination?” asked Sanaka. It must have been the monastery, but it looked nothing like Sanaka had imagined.
“Yes, that’s really it,” Tashi said, laughing again. “I hope you weren’t expecting something more spectacular.”
“I was expecting something closer to the road,” Sanaka said.
“It’s a ten-minute walk. I don’t think any of the other monasteries around Mount Kailash are even this close. You got lucky!”
Sanaka tilted his head upward to look at the mountain. He hadn’t come to Tibet as a tourist, but he couldn’t help pausing to stare at the terrain. By Tibetan mountain standards, Mount Kailash wasn’t even all that tall—it would have looked like an anthill next to Everest—but he knew the religious significance that it held for the Tibetans and felt a small shiver of awe in its presence. Sanaka was not, strictly speaking, a religious man, but his work had a great deal to do with the human sense of divine presence, and, for a moment, he thought he felt a small piece of that presence himself.
But only for a moment.
Sanaka picked up his satchel, and the two of them crossed the gravel road together, starting up the dirt path to the monastery.
Tashi noticed Sanaka turning his head back and forth, looking at the dirt road, which almost appeared to be concrete. “Buddhists and Hindus make the journey to the monastery regularly for their pilgrimage all the way around Mount Kailash. The huge number of devotees walking the path over the years packs the ground as tightly as cement, bosu!”
“If so many people visit, why aren’t there more now?”
Tashi looked down at the ground and studied his shoes for signs of weather damage, crestfallen. “The Chinese government recently started charging a large fee and restricting access from other countries. Those that live near here can visit and bring a few outsiders, but no large groups are allowed anymore.” He looked up at Sanaka and smiled. “But your pilgrimage is covered by the large fee you paid, bosu!”
Sanaka wasn’t there on a pilgrimage, though. He was a devotee of science, not of religious mumbo jumbo, and he made his journey alone even when others were with him. There were no others on the road that day except for the old man who had left the bus, and they brushed past him quickly on their way up the slope.
By the time they reached the monastery, Sanaka was starting to consider letting Tashi carry the satchel. He was badly winded, and his shoulder ached as though it had taken a sharp blow. The front entrance to the building was a simple rectangle cut out of the stone, and above it the rest of the monastery stretched up into the sky. Tashi skipped lightly up to the door as if playing a child’s game while Sanaka panted and heaved his way there, like Jesus hauling his cross.
Sanaka put the bag down just inside the entrance, though his shoulder continued throbbing. A weather-beaten man with a bowl in his lap sat outside the temple smiling at the
m, saying nothing. Tashi bent down, placing a few coins in his bowl, and smiled at Sanaka. Sanaka grunted and rolled his eyes, looking at Tashi.
“Why are you giving this guy money? He probably just sits out here all day not working and living off people’s money. Let him get a job.”
“If it’s so easy to sit around all day and beg, why don’t you do it?” Tashi said with a twinkle in his eye.
“I have better things to do. It’s a waste of time to sit here all day.”
The beggar nodded his head vigorously, smiling wider. Tashi smiled back at him and turned towards Sanaka.
“Yes, but it’s worth his time to ask, so it’s worth my time to give.”
Sanaka muttered to himself and continued inside, with Tashi following close behind. Several robed monks stood within, but the only one who seemed to notice Tashi and Sanaka was an older man—apparently someone with seniority in the group—with a bald head and a marking on the top that may have been a tattoo. He nodded to them as they crossed the room, a faint smile on his face.
Sanaka spoke to Tashi without looking at him. “Ask him where we can find the old man, Vu.”
Tashi stepped forward and spoke to the monk in rapid, fluent Chinese, too fast for Sanaka to follow. He had studied Chinese in his youth but only retained a few words. The old man pointed to his head, shrugged his shoulders, and then glanced at the small brass bowl next to him.
Sanaka audibly grumbled to himself, “Oh, this is some bullshit. These peace-loving hippies sure do know a lot about free markets.”
Tashi smiled at Sanaka and the old man in turn while producing a few more coins and dropping them into the brass bowl beside the man. The coins clinked discordantly and then synchronized to produce a small ringing sound that seemed to continue for half a minute or so. While the bowl continued ringing, the old man and Tashi smiled at each other.
Once the ringing stopped, Tashi explained, “Perhaps he needs help remembering. Sometimes coaxing a memory is like courting a woman. You cannot just barge in the front door. You must invite her from her house with an open heart, knocking and politely inquiring, making small talk. Then, if you are lucky, the front door will eventually open. But if it does not open, one must enjoy the process enough to not care. For that is the best way to make the door open!”
Tashi turned back to the old man, and they began trading rapid-fire Chinese again. After their business was concluded, Tashi turned towards Sanaka.
“He says that Vu lives further up the road, about two miles in the direction of the mountain. The path is narrow and rarely used. It’s marked by a large, jagged boulder.”
“That’s all we need to know,” Sanaka said, but the monk continued speaking.
“He says that Vu is not to be disturbed. He took a vow of solitude and does not desire visitors.”
Which is exactly why Sanaka wanted to meet him. No one will ever miss him. No one will even know he’s gone.
“That doesn’t matter,” Sanaka told Tashi. “We don’t need to ask permission; we just need directions.”
The boy looked worried. “These monks take their vows very seriously. Perhaps we should honor his wishes. Hey, have you ever heard the phrase, ‘If you don’t want anything, there is no suffering?’”
“I’m paying you a daily rate, so I definitely want something, just like you do, since you’re here to get paid. Come all this way for nothing? I don’t think so.”
Sanaka turned and walked towards the door while Tashi gave the monk a brief ritual bow and followed.
“Bosu, I know this is important to you,” Tashi said, “but maybe we should respect their wishes?”
“You’ll talk to the old man for me,” growled Sanaka.
“If you insist, bosu,” Tashi said. “But I can’t guarantee he’ll talk back.”
The hike took the better part of an hour. Though both the monastery and Vu’s home were on the lowest slope of Mount Kailash, it was still a great deal more of a climb than Sanaka was used to. He finally relented and gave his satchel to Tashi, who lifted it easily, as though it were a child’s hopes and dreams.
The shrubbery was thicker here, and occasionally Sanaka had to cut through it with his proton knife. Sanaka loved his knife and took it everywhere with him, even when traveling through a spaceport, as its sheath obscured the blade when it was scanned and the knife’s nanoceramic material never set off the older metal detectors used in some places. The molecular vibrations in the blade sliced through the vegetation as if it were a cloud, cleanly opening a path in front of them. They made their way down a dusty path, rocks crunching under their feet as they trudged along in silence. Sanaka shivered and tightened his jacket to no avail. The air was even colder at this higher elevation, and the winds were starting to pick up as well. The sooner he could get to where he was going, the happier he would be.
Eventually, they could see a rude hut ahead of them, little more than a fur-covered yurt, the kind of structure that predated written history. A small well and water pump were outside, and a flap of carpet sagged over the front. Sanaka could see some daylight coming in through another flap in the back of the structure, presumably there to allow the breeze to come through. This guy must be impervious to the cold. He felt as though he had stepped back to a time before civilization when nomads on horses ruled the day.
Or maybe that was the effect that the thin air was having on his brain. He finally had to pause. The dark cloud was coming over his vision again, and he was afraid he might faint from the mere effort of standing. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could see the inside of the hut and the outside of it at the same time.
“Are you okay, bosu? Do you need help?”
“N—no,” Sanaka said, his voice surprisingly weak. His head was swimming, his surroundings blurring and darkening, then reappearing. “I don’t need help. Just give me a minute.”
Tashi looked genuinely concerned. Well, Sanaka mused cynically, losing a chance at such a huge payday would make anybody concerned.
His vision beginning to clear, Sanaka grabbed Tashi’s hand. “Just pull me up. Let’s finish what we came here to do.”
“Maybe you should rest longer, bosu—”
“No!” Sanaka barked. “I don’t need to rest. We need to talk to Vu.”
Tashi supported Sanaka while he paused to regain his balance. It was just a hallucination caused by the thin air. He was pushing himself too hard. He just needed to be more careful. He began walking towards the hut again.
It was larger than it seemed before, but still no bigger than an oversized tent. The flap of carpet on the door was swaying gently in the wind, and Sanaka simply pushed it aside, entering. There was only a single room, sparsely furnished but surprisingly neat. A pair of bookshelves stood stiffly in the corner like dusty soldiers. What appeared to be fairly recent books lined the shelves. Beside them was a small dining table, a storage box, a small fire pit for cooking, and a narrow cot with a small rug beside it. On the cot sat a man in loose orange robes who Sanaka knew to be more than ninety years old, though his eyes were lively and alert, crinkled with age and wisdom. His bald head turned towards them and he smiled at his visitors, and it seemed to Sanaka that he could feel this old man pouring love, or something else he couldn’t describe, into him. Sanaka quickly dismissed this feeling as irrelevant to his task.
“Ask him if he’ll speak with me,” Sanaka said.
Tashi began talking to the old man in Chinese, but the figure on the bed put up a hand to silence him.
“There is no need to translate,” he said in a strong, deep voice. “I speak Japanese, and I speak English. I speak many languages.”
Sanaka was so startled he didn’t know what to say, but Vu continued speaking.
“And you are?”
“I am Sanaka and this is my guide, Tashi.”
“So, you have come to see me,” he said. “I suppose the monks told you about my vow of solitude.”
“Yes,” Sanaka said. “So I was afraid you might not be recept
ive to what I want to ask of you.”
Vu laughed, his eyes sparkling like stars in a country field. “The vow of solitude is a ruse by the monks in charge at the monastery. They don’t like the effect I have on the pilgrims and would like to keep them from making my home a part of their journey, as they tend to become a little less devout afterward. Most religions aren’t actually interested in people having a religious experience since it can make them realize the church isn’t necessary. But I can see you aren’t pilgrims. You’ve come . . . for another reason.”
“I’ve come to ask you to be part of an experiment.”
“Ah,” he said. “Perhaps you are looking for the secret of my longevity.”
“No,” Sanaka said. “I want to see what’s inside your brain.”
Vu pondered this for a moment. “A most unusual request. I assume you do not mean that literally.”
Sanaka wondered how to respond to that. “I mostly want to ask you questions,” he said finally. “At my laboratory in Japan, I study the human brain’s neurochemistry and cortico-cortical connections in order to achieve true artificial intelligence. I have equipment in my bag that I can use to monitor yours and record them.”
“You want to do that here?”
“I usually prefer my lab, but because of your condition I have brought some of my equipment here.”
“Mmmm. I’ve not been to Japan in many years. Should we go now?”
Sanaka gaped at him. He’d heard that Vu never left his hut, receiving food from the monastery below. Had the information been wrong? He was prepared to paint the way back to Japan with blood if the old man was in the condition to come . . . but a willing subject would be much easier.
“How . . . how could you go to Japan? Do you even have an electronic passport? Do you have Net access somehow? And would you survive the orbital jump from the spaceport?”