All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923)

by Humphrey, Michael C.

  “I would not hold your breath, Kole. There is truth and there is reality, and seldom are the two seen holding hands.”

  Kole sighed. “I was afraid it might come to this.”

  “Fear is not healthy, Brother.”

  “You have been busy, Cain. I can see that. This city is more impressive than I imagined it would be. But you have built walls around yourself other than these stones and you have buried your virtue alongside your trouble. The man you were made mistakes, Cain. That’s your truth. But the man you are is making even more. And there’s your reality.”

  Cain nodded once. “Is that so?”

  “We need to have this out in the open, Brother, once and for all.”

  “No, you need to have it out, Kole.”

  “I had hoped that we might be able together to put this behind us and to mend our friendship.”

  “Why take it off the shelf, Brother, only to put it back again? Leave it alone.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Cain.”

  “Then I prophesy growing disappointment for you, Kole. I hope you are man enough to shoulder the burden.”

  “How did we come to this, Cain?”

  “It is you who have come to me. I did not invite you here. This is my home. And the public street is no place to conduct your business, Brother,” Cain said with a menacing tone. “I suggest you swallow whatever it is that you are about to say, and perhaps we shall find a more opportune time and place to discuss such matters.”

  He looked around at the buildings, his eyes tightening. “Let us walk, Brother,” he said, turning back to Kole and raising his voice to an unnaturally loud level. “The women seem to have nothing better to do today than to press their ears up against their window skins.”

  Kole looked around and saw several of the skins covering the windows flutter suddenly, although the day was still.

  Fine, thought Kole, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He wanted to conclude this distasteful confrontation as soon as possible and depart. Yet if Cain needed to delay the inevitable in order to form in his mind the words that Kole was hoping to hear, then patience must be exercised.

  “Come, brother, allow me to show you some of my many mistakes.” Cain beckoned Kole to follow, swinging his arm out in a magnanimous gesture. Cain was irritated, that much was obvious. And if Kole had to guess, he was hurt too, disappointed that his long lost brother was focusing on his past mistakes more than on his present accomplishments. Cain’s pride was like a second layer of skin, easily observed and easily injured. If Kole was going to get his younger brother to open up to him, perhaps he should wait until they both had full bellies, tonight, when the temperatures and tempers had cooled.

  The day was exceedingly bright, making Cain squint. The air was hot, dry, and dusty. Kole could feel the sweat trickle down his spine. Both brothers, it seemed, had forgotten themselves in the heat of the moment. Kole had let his own anger guide him, emotion that had been building up over the last few days, and Cain had reacted defensively to this attack, neglecting even the most basic courtesies of a good host.

  Kole was thirsty. Arguing with his brother had not helped. He tried to swallow and tasted the grit in his mouth. His first time to speak to Cain in a hundred years and it had not gone well. He had so many good memories of his brother from when they were younger. Why could he not have focused on that and saved the heavier conversation for later? Kole berated himself as they walked for coming on so strong. He hoped he would have a second chance to start again. He was daydreaming about how this might be accomplished when he realized Cain was speaking to him.

  “I’ll make a deal with you, Kole. Give me this afternoon to think about Abel and all that happened between us. It was over a hundred years ago and there is much that may take time to recall. You may then resume your attack upon me tonight after we celebrate your return from the land that was lost.”

  “I did not mean to attack you, Cain.”

  “Nonetheless, I will answer your questions then. Are we agreed?

  “We are. And in return?”

  “In return, I’d like you to answer one of mine.”

  “And that is?”

  “How is it that you seem not to have aged in all this time? You are unchanged.”

  “No, I am changed.”

  “But not your appearance. It is uncanny to see you this way, looking the same as you did when we were boys.”

  “I guess the Lord has preserved me.”

  “Hmm,” said Cain, thinking, “He does seem to be rather arbitrary with his gifts.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that you are given perpetual youth, and I am given a mark on my face that deters anyone from killing me.”

  “Seems our gifts are similar enough.”

  “Oh, would you like to trade?”

  Kole laughed. It felt good to laugh. He hadn’t noticed how tensed his muscles were until that moment. He felt himself relaxing and realized how much he’d missed his moody younger brother.

  “So, what do you think of my city?” Cain asked, changing the subject abruptly.

  “I thought it was Enoch’s city.”

  “He’d like to think so.” laughed Cain “Name something after one of your children and they suddenly think they’re indispensable.”

  “So, you have found fatherhood agreeable then?” asked Kole, his curiosity flashing teeth.

  Cain sighed, “Children are a trial. They drop from their mother’s wombs covered head to toe in slime. They eat everything in sight, soil themselves constantly, and upon learning to talk, contradict everything you say. But don’t misunderstand me, they do ease the burden. So many challenges that simply require more than two hands to accomplish.”

  “Such as?”

  “What? Look around you. This city sings the praises of my children. They have raised these buildings from the ground, with my direction of course. We have created life from the lifeless dust of the earth to sustain ourselves. We have prospered. Perhaps you noticed the spring in the center of the city, flowing into a low, humble structure to the west. That building was our…that was my home for many years. It was only as my children grew that I could trade some of their sweat and toil for far superior structures. And now, when I look around me, I behold this mecca for all men and marvel at its grandeur.”

  “But why here?” asked Kole. “The plain that you have chosen to build your home in is so bleak and barren. Why not a site more suitable to growing crops?”

  “We are here to loosen our minds, Kole, not our belts. I teach my sons to flee the bondage of ignorance, not to wallow in idleness. If life were too easy they would become content and cease to exert themselves. I do not allow them that luxury. Our fields are west of here, several hours. They must find their lives a burden in order to enjoy life to its fullest extent. Even the Lord teaches us this by withholding abundance and demanding our effort to acquire his meager blessings.”

  “Cain, the Lord did not intend it to be that way.”

  “Ah, you have much to learn, Brother. But I am patient. I will teach you. Come.” With that Cain turned past a corner of a building and led Kole back to the center of town.

  They stopped in front of a stone pillar, waist high, on top of which a flat, circular table with an irregularly shaped triangle of stone affixed to its center. Around its edges were lines scratched into its surface in equal measurements.

  “It is time,” said Cain cryptically.

  “Time?” asked Kole.

  “Precisely,” said Cain. “This is a sundial. It measures the movement of the sun.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “To determine time, obviously. One can only express oneself in a limited way by speaking of sunrises and sunsets. When the sun is at its highest we say that it is midday. But what of all t
he other moments of a day that fall between these reference points? The shadow of the stone moves around the sundial as the sun moves through the sky, pointing at various marks upon its surface. These we call hours. Every twenty-four of them, and the sun rises again. One day. The hours we have divided into minutes and the minutes into seconds. It pinpoints precise times when things must be done.”

  “Sounds pointless,” said Kole.

  “To the contrary,” countered Cain. “It is the very essence of being pointed. It gives meaning to the insufferable pointlessness of time that the Creator has condemned us to. Every three hundred and sixty of these days and the sun returns to almost the exact same spot in the sky as it was the summer before. One year. We no longer have to keep track of time by counting summers. We can count the years and find starting points where we wish. We are no longer confined to counting an accumulation of seasons. We are liberated.”

  Kole nodded. “I can see how there would be advantages to this method, Cain, but it seems time consuming. Do you not find that you spend more time trying to determine time than you would if you actually just did things? Planted, harvested, hunted?”

  “Ah, your point is well taken, Kole. But those tasks are for the young. I have been released from the earth by the Creator Himself. I no longer farm the land, for that would be fruitless to me. I achieve my successes more by finding dominion over time than over things. And is that not the very example that the Lord has shown us. He has given us authority over the earth, but He has not withheld dominion over time from us. He has offered us unlimited time to discover these things, but our parents did not choose that fruit. They would have done well to eat of it before they ate of the fruit of knowledge, but this they did not perceive. Had they eaten of life before they feasted on knowledge, they would still be living in the garden.”

  “Would they?” questioned Kole.

  “But of course. The Lord wants us to live, so He dangles death before us as an incentive to resist it. No one wants to go the way of Abel, giving up their time.”

  Kole raised his eyebrows and Cain cut him off before he could say anything.

  “Unlike the Creator, we did not have the luxury of ribs to raise this city. We have created something from nothing here in this plain. Nine days a week we work, resting every tenth day, devoting more of our time to the task of proficiency.”

  Kole was not surprised that Cain had sacrificed the Sabbath. “Why do that, Brother? Is it not enough that the Creator set the example for us by resting every seventh day?”

  “It is an arbitrary thing, Kole. The Creator could have rested on any day He chose, and so can we. Let me explain,” he said when he saw Kole start to make an objection.

  “From the time the sun sets in the evening to the time it again sets is one day, governed by the setting of the sun. From one full moon to the next is one month, determined by observing the moon. From one summer to the next the sun is hot and cool and hot again, indicating that a year has passed. But there is no heavenly body that determines a week; that significantly reveals one day as better than another for resting.”

  “But there is, Cain.”

  “Oh? And what might that be, Brother? I have searched the night sky for fifty years. I have stared into the face of the sun for hours on end. It is enough to bring a man to madness, but there is nothing to be seen there. I have learned the names of all the stars that I can see and read the story in them. I have watched the clouds and chased the wind from north to south, yet still I have found nothing in the sun, the moon, or the earthly elements to suggest a reason why I should lay about idle as often as every seventh day. Please share this wisdom with me, Kole. Is it some revelation you have learned in the garden? Perhaps you ate of the fruit of knowledge as well, hmm? Enlighten me Brother.”

  “I did not eat of any forbidden fruit, Cain, yet I know the juice of truth when I taste it. The heavenly body that governs the law of rest is the Creator Himself. He cannot be observed by staring into the sky, as you know, and when you find Him it will be when your eyes are closed in prayer, not when they are openly challenging the universe for answers.”

  “Did you pray before you came here today, Brother?”

  “I did.”

  “And do you expect to find the answers to the questions you seek?”

  “I am hopeful,” was Kole’s subdued answer.

  “Well, as Father always said, ‘The Lord works in mysterious ways.’ Perhaps he will answer both of our prayers today.”

  “And what did you pray for, Cain?”

  “Not yet, Brother. Hold that thought. Tonight will be soon enough.”

  They talked of many other things, standing there in the hot sun. They walked and Cain showed him ideas that Kole had to admit were exciting. Weights and scales, levers and pulleys, all manner of objects made out of a material that Cain called metal. In the low, squat building on the edge of the city, Cain showed Kole his forge and his process for making blades and kettles, tools, and utensils. Cain had handed him a sleek, copper-bladed knife with a bone handle to examine. When Kole displayed his admiration for such a work of art, Cain had told him to keep it, calling it a homecoming gift. Kole had thanked him and tucked it into his belt with appreciation.

  As they strolled through the city, Cain explained trade and how it encouraged his children to work harder, to out-do each other. He showed Kole plans and charcoal drawings of pumps and plumbing, copper troughs to carry water from the spring into the buildings. He showed him where they made paper and paint, cart wheels and wine. They toured the smokehouses and woodworking shops, the looms and kitchens. It seemed that Cain had no secrets that he would not share. That is until Kole asked him about the building in the center of town with the eye on it. Then it was as if Cain had lost his flair for language.

  He held up one finger as if to say something but changed his mind. Instead he said, “I’m thirsty.”

  It occurred to Kole that the people of this city had had nothing to eat or drink in days. Cain’s lapse in hospitality suddenly made sense. They had nothing to offer. Kole walked to the spring in the center of the square, (why did his brother call a round open area a square?) and dipped his hand into the cool clear water.

  “I would not drink that if I were you,” said Cain, coming up behind him. “The water has turned bitter.”

  “Have you tasted it this morning?” asked Kole.

  “No, I have not. But we gave some to Irad just before dawn, and he vomited it back up immediately.”

  Kole shook his head, closed his eyes and offered a prayer of thanks to YHVH for ending the city’s punishment. And thanks that Adam had followed through on his promise to burn up the remainder of the hrak.

  Kole’s seedvision confirmed that the water was pure and cold and perfect. He dipped his hand into the pool again and brought it up to his mouth, slurping it out of his palm a bit louder than usual. He felt it as it wet his tongue and lips, then enjoyed the sensation as it slid coldly down the back of his parched throat.

  Cain watched him for a reaction, and when Kole displayed none but sheer ecstasy at the act of drinking, Cain leaned over and put his lips to the water and sipped, then gulped.

  “Not too fast, Brother,” said Kole, “or you will throw it up.”

  Cain stood up straight and laughed. “Oh, that is good.” Then he yelled out names, and women and children appeared from inside the buildings carrying buckets and bladders and pitchers. They each dipped their containers into the pool and hurried back to their homes. Each of them spared a sidelong glance in Kole’s direction from under their black lashes. Kole did not see Kesitah.

  “Come, Brother,” said Cain, taking Kole’s elbow with a firm hand. “Let me show you to a private room where you can rest and refresh yourself until tonight’s feast.”

  Someone had poured clean water into a copper bowl. Kole dropped his pack on the floor and bendi
ng over the bowl, splashed some on his face, rubbing his hand down the back of his neck. He ran his wet fingers through his hair and felt better than he had in days. His conversation with Cain had gone as well as could be expected and tonight maybe they would reconcile their differences and truly become brothers again. It couldn’t hurt to be hopeful.

  The room was sparsely furnished with only two objects of interest. One was the small table with the water basin placed along the wall opposite the door and the other was a wooden, rectangular framework on round legs sitting in the far corner. It was about the length of a man and had a large animal skin, maybe more than one skin, sewn together and placed over ropes that ran back and forth through holes in the longer sides of the wood. A split in the seam allowed some of the stuffing to spill out, dried grass and feathers. Kole walked over to it and sat down carefully, marveling at its softness. He stretched out upon it and sighed, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. He forced himself to get up before he dozed off to sleep. Time for a nap later, he thought.

  He took the knife that Cain had given to him from his belt and set it on the water stand, then knelt down in front of the bedding and prayed, thanking the Creator for being ever-present, ever-aware. He prayed for strength and patience, mercy and forgiveness. He apologized for his own vindictive nature and asked for guidance and direction. When he rose, his knees ached from lack of blood, and he paced around the room, walking off the tingling sensation in them. He glanced out the window and saw people, men and women and children, all busily tending to chores.

  The City of Enoch certainly was a fascinating place. Kole regretted the reasons that had brought him here. Under different circumstances he would have liked to have stayed here for a while, roaming its streets and exploring its mysteries. Several of the things that Kole had seen had sparked thoughts in him, ideas that he would like to invent. Maybe someday, but first things first: to repair the breach between the two halves of his family.