Descendant

by Jeffrey A. Levin

  “What’s the problem, Mags?”

  Magdiel opens the gate to the potbellied stove. Instantly he finds something he likes.

  “What is it?”

  “Now here’s something we can actually use. Sage! Good stuff at that! It’s Sukodanbuk, which is an ancient Indian remedy! Ah! Look at this! We have some white ceremonial aesculapian as well.” Magdiel sniffs again at the air.

  “It’s not going to bring back Maya, so what good is it?”

  “I don’t know, Michael. Have you ever known a woman that doesn’t enjoy an aromatic scent? She’s probably camped outside somewhere where she can at least smell the good old outdoors. If you haven’t noticed, this place smells like a dead animal carcass. Would you stay here if you didn’t have to? Don’t you know anything about women?”

  “Nice,” I say. “Mags, if you’re trying to insult me, you’re doing a terrible job; after all, I’m the one who’s getting the girl at the end of the day.”

  “Not if I can help it!” Mags says, flashing that cunning Eastern grin of his. Mags hurls two bags of sage at me.

  “Hey, you nearly hit me in the head with that stuff! What is it?”

  “We’re going to imbibe this ourselves during dinner tonight, my dear, naive friend.”

  “Hey, look who’s calling who naive. I’m not the one who climbed up a mountain and down a mountain, without asking for any payment,” I snicker.

  Magdiel points a finger at me. “Before this is over, you’re going to want to pay me handsomely.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Because I’m the one who possesses the knowledge you need.”

  “To find Maya?”

  Magdiel snorts at the air. “There’s more,” he says cunningly. He turns from me. “We’re going to bestow ourselves a fabulous dinner, consisting of a tasty rabbit and vegetables from the surrounding garden mixed with Artemisia, sagebrush, and sawia,” he says, changing the subject.

  “Sounds utterly horrible!”

  “Great! Well, I’m not giving you anything to eat, then. I’m going to cook it, share it with the animals, and then steal your girlfriend if you don’t watch out!”

  “I’m worried. I have to admit, you’re the only Middle Eastern Valentino that I know.”

  “If only you knew,” Mags says defiantly. “After all, I’m the one who’s going to smell like perfume, while you smell like a dead raccoon. Which one would you pick? Ya know, I think you’ve actually been afflicted by the dumb stick. It happens to every eighth Eisenstein. The first seven use up all of the intelligence, leavin the eighth one with the brains of a sniveling idiot!”

  I hang my head. “All right, I give up. You win! I want nice guy Magdiel returning into the cabin.”

  Mags smiles, handing me another bag along with a glass bowl and a sort of a contraption that looks like a snorkel with a mouthpiece. “What’s this?” I cackle. It looks like some sort of an ancient peace pipe inside a glass bowl.

  A huge grin masks Magdiel’s mischievous face. “I’m not about to tell you! I’m going to let you find out for yourself—sometime after dinner perhaps,” he declares craftily.

  Magdiel and I settle down to an inviting fire outside of the cabin. Elias tells us that we might be able to see Maya by the moonlight. I glance at my Proto locator watch. It reads 7:59.566.

  The craziest feature on the watch was the rocking gamma ray burst locator. Truth be told, even my subatomic gadgets couldn’t find Maya!

  Anyway, it’s getting late. Magdiel and I relax by the campfire, eating our delectable rabbit; Mags cunningly secured our dinner with a bow and arrow earlier in the afternoon.

  Watching Magdiel eat is like observing a Middle Eastern swami eating at a white-tablecloth affair. His every motion is spiritual, involving the proper etiquette, respect for what he is eating, and protocol. Magdiel isn’t an indiscriminate gobbler. I mean, this isn’t fast food to him. On the contrary, the ascetic doesn’t just throw things in his mouth; he makes love to them.

  I desperately try to avoid my ongoing thoughts of Maya, even though they seem to consume every fiber of my mind. It’s kind of like trying to avoid an ungrounded electric wire. The evening seems to conjure an interesting magical quality. The moon shines brightly as small cloud formations dart in and out, causing lunar lights to blink, playing peekaboo with my emotions.

  Everywhere I look, I see Maya’s image—first just her eyes, and then the back of her neck. Yet, of course, there is her mysterious smile and her intoxicating laugh. Her image, her words, and the sound of her voice are everywhere. I am swimming in her, playing with her, making love to her.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” I hear Magdiel quip. His eyes are flashing like an overwrought alarm clock. Yet it’s Magdiel’s words that stick in my soul.

  “Possibly she’s ill and has gone home.”

  Magdiel’s shining black-hued eyes erupt into a wild breakdance of colors and shapes. Magdiel pulls out a glass bowl, opens up the nozzle-like contraption, and then inhales deeply.

  “Do you want a hit?” Magdiel cajoles, moving the smoky container closer to me.

  “A hit? What’s a hit?

  This time, Magdiel’s eyes sparkle like manic fireflies, glittering and then seemingly disappearing like scared turtles.

  “Just take a big breath and hold it in your lungs as long as you can.”

  I put my lips to the edge. “Like this?” I ask naively.

  Magdiel nods. “Not too much.”

  I choke on the smoke, feeling my lungs expand, and then I feel a small burning sensation. I cough incessantly. Magdiel’s face remains impassive. “Take another hit and let the smoke do its magic, Michael my boy!”

  Magdiel’s blatant, if not unabashed, enthusiasm convinces me. I put my lips to the foreign-looking nozzle and suck in the misty, curling smoke.

  For some inexplicable, nonsensical reason, I eerily feel my senses heighten; and almost immediately I began to fixate on a spot in the woods. Then I hear the coyotes off in the distance. Strangely, the spiritual and eerie qualities of their vibrancy seem to comingle in my brain. Are they calling for someone to come forth?

  Oddly, I crave the sensation of the smoke filling up my lungs, and to Mag’s satisfaction, my inhibitions begin falling away like a child sliding down a bannister.

  I feel as if I am on an asteroid again, in another dimension. Magdiel’s wild laughter falls away. I hear him laughingly utter something.

  I take another hit, and another, and another.

  “So who are you, Mags?” I entreat. “Why are you here? And why are you helping me?”

  Mags’s smile lures me slowly in like a sensuous, menacing snake. The mysterious Middle Eastern dragon sits there, crossed legged, laughing at me! How twisted, I muse. Have our roles reversed? What’s happening here?

  “I am probably the only friend you’ve ever had, because I see your true and real talents,” Mags proclaims.

  “Let me have that bowl again! What is this apparatus called anyway?”

  Mags glares into the cloudy, smoky bowl. His eyes sparkle like dancing, moonstruck leprechauns.

  “You’re doing ancient bongs, my friend,” Mags says mystically.

  I swear I observe actual fireflies coming out of his eyes.

  “Amazing!” I say, watching the fireflies ascend into the heavens like little gnats on a mission.

  “It’s all right, Michael. You’re with a friend; trust me!” Mags beseeches like a spiritual maharishi, spanking at the air. “You, my friend, are a spiritual conundrum,” Magdiel the Swami professes.

  I cough again. “C’mon, Mags, don’t hold back on me. What’s going on? Am I losing my mind?”

  Mags smiles devilishly. “No, my friend, you’re finding it! You prod prick [slacker], we’re just engaged in an old shamanic ceremonial spiritual quest. Actually, the Scythians used to
smoke way back in the fifth century BCE. It means that you are ready to join the garden of the gods, and the ‘big bang’ that you feel is you making yourself real and vulnerable—something that you need tremendously, my little wasted friend.”

  I take another hit. I feel my eyeballs retreating into their sockets. My eyes witness dancing subatomic particles buggy-whipping into and out of me as if I am just an invisible vessel. When I open my eyes, Mags is dancing like a curious whirling dervish.

  “This is great, Mags! How come I didn’t know about this?”

  Mags holds his stomach as he laughs hard. “I think it’s because you were brought up in a scientific cocoon instead of a spiritual one! Get up and dance with me, my little elfish sprite! We are now in the world of the Kabbalah! And you, my friend, are entering the threshold of your own individual dimension!”

  As I begin howling like a coyote and dancing like a demon, lightning ignites the air. The imperious, striking light is so brilliant that I can see a figure dancing along with us in the moonlight.

  Dear God, it’s Maya!

  “Bismillah Er- Rahim!” Magdiel shouts excitedly. The spiritual one has arrived.

  CHAPTER 47

  November 5, 2393

  5:22 a.m.

  My eyes shoot open. Where am I? Where is Maya? I smell the putrid scent of a fire smoldering.

  “Maya!” I scream. I hear the echo of my voice reverberate in the valley.

  I try to remember what happened. I saw her! She was just outside the cabin. My head feels cloudy, and my mouth is dry. I hear melodic sounds coming from the man sleeping on the ground. Magdiel is snoring like a broken-down locomotive.

  The sun peeks above the horizon. Its orange-red hue strikes the sky like an angry fireball. I throw open the door, running. Find the path! Run along the path! I don’t see her!

  “Damn!” I say to the wind. “Where is she?”

  I’m rambling through thick brush on a small, overgrown path. I nearly step on a snake, but it recoils, hissing like a roving vagabond rudely awoken in the woods. I hear a sound. Just a deer! It looks at me, panics, and runs. I keep running down the meandering brush-laden path. The sun is smiling at me, peeking through the weeping willows, offering sprinkles of light. I try to think.

  I hear another sound coming from the brush. Just a small animal scurrying to safety. If I were Maya, where would I go? Is she hurt? I see a figure moving quickly. Maybe it’s her! Where’s she going? She’d have to cross the bridge! Faster! You’ve already lost time! You may never find her again!

  There’s a body lying right on the bridge. Maya? I run toward her.

  I kneel. I touch her flushed cheeks. Her eyes are closed, but she’s breathing I slowly caress her face. Her eyelids part slowly. I see her hypnotic eyes flashing at me in wonder. They’re sleepy and sultry, but they’re glittering like rare diamonds, playing peekaboo, like clouds dusting over a brilliant full moon. She smiles, touching my cheeks.

  “It’s me,” I whisper, hearing a rustling coming from the tall, teary weeping willows. My body is shaking, driven by an overloaded, overwrought mind.

  Maya smiles softly. I reach down and place my arms around her body.

  “You’ve come to save me,” she says.

  I nod. Our lips touch. Dear God, this is real.

  Maya runs her fingers slowly on my face, wiping away my overjoyed tears.

  Weepy, gentle, tears of both joy and sorrow ease slowly down Maya’s cheeks. The bridge begins swaying. I see the rushing water beneath us. The wind subsides, and the sun’s strong rays seem to recede. I touch her face. Her dimples dart in and out, as if she’s playing a game with me. She knows.

  “I love you,” I say. Tears run down her cheeks. I stare into her brilliant charcoal eyes. They appear translucent, watery, but winking in pleasure. The arcane clouds seem to be peering down at us, watching us, praying for us. My past recedes. It’s a new time, a rare and sacred moment calling to us, beckoning for our reunion. Maya sighs and then whispers, “I’m so happy to see you, Michael.”

  CHAPTER 48

  November 7, 2393

  6:00 p.m.

  “Do you take this man to be your husband?”

  Indeed, this was the happiest time of my life! Over the years I have reflected on this moment many times.

  Maya and I are married the day after our reunion—you guessed it, right on the hanging bridge. Elias performed the services. It wasn’t exactly private; the Carmelite nuns were invited, and the righteous thirty-six popped in as well. There was only one mishap: I actually trusted Magdiel to be my best man, and he forgot the ring. Instead he remembered to bring the drinks. Maya and I didn’t care, for nothing could ruin our special moment.

  Anyway, one might say that Magdiel’s apparel was unique. He wore a truncated reddish-black cylindrical hat. Weird? Well, of course. I just called it a “Magdiel Special.” After all, Mags was in rare form that day. Yes, he did run back to his place and find the ring. His exact words were “Yasher koach!” when he handed me the ring. Magdiel had it specially made, and he referred to it as the tikkun haolam (the fixing of the cosmos)… seriously!

  “May you both have strength!” Magdiel proclaims as he kisses my bride—a little bit too long for my taste, I may add!

  Minutes after I break the glass, the dancing commences. Magdiel executes some very fancy maneuvers with all twenty-one of the Carmelite nuns. Then Mags proceeds to show us all how to do the hora, with lots of high kicks, along with another dance called the super chick rumba! Maya laughs so hard that the string belt on her dress opens.

  Mags then teaches everyone a new dance called how we prance. At one point, he even lures the Carmelite ladies onto the bridge, displaying his famous joyful jig while the music rocks to the tempos of Sako Moto, famous gymnastics artist and guitarist.

  Oh yeah, did I tell you about the music? Yes, it was a bit unorthodox.

  Apparently Magdiel was once a member of a group called Yakov and the Mystics! Yakov was a late twenty-fourth-century gongoozlist! To tell you the truth, I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. However, Mags informed me that it meant he believed in staring idly into space and meditating. Apparently evil will disappear if you just concentrate on an object as you meditate. Yakov and other gongoozlists believe that good rather than evil will appear.

  Honestly, nothing bothered me on that day. Well, one thing perhaps; I’ll tell you in a bit. One of the guests brought her own child. The woman allowed Maya to hold the child, named Ruth, and when the lady took it back, Maya appeared very sad. I think I know why.

  Anyway, Yakov leads a terrific esoteric band consisting of two Kabbalist males, three female Carmelite nuns and one transgender agnostic who plays a mean bubble organ.

  What’s a bubble organ?

  A bubble organ consists of two balloons attached to a pipe that hangs underneath a keyboard. There are also twelve plastic tubes that contain SAP pipes inside. The keyboard, which is definitely the coolest keyboard anywhere, is composed of odd-looking Popsicle sticks, cosmic-looking clothespins, and old wooden spiritual knobs taken from old drawers and cabinets. The celestial vibrations filter into four or five inches of water. Magdiel loved the instrument, which is a throwback into the past. Mags’s only comment was that the water should have been contained by a circular glass bowl. Go figure! So, what’s the sound like? If you haven’t ever experienced it, you haven’t lived. It’s unimaginable! Let’s just say it’s surreal. If you’re an ancient music enthusiast, like I am, let’s just say it’s a sound that resides somewhere between the Moody Blues, Santana, and Peter Frampton.

  Honestly, I can go on. Have I told you about the Fraxophone? Anyway…

  Maya and I were in heaven! I will say that the Carmelites did convince Maya to wear a scapular. Maya was adorned in a large, long cloth suspended from her neck and her shoulders down to inches below her knees. She looked so beautiful! To te
ll you the truth, I wouldn’t have cared what she wore. Maya was always the most beautiful girl in the world to me.

  Did I tell you that the Carmelites relieved Maya of the rigidness of her vows? Maya was given the incredibly generous option of Charism. In other words, she could remain a nun and still live in the world and be married. Thank G_d for loopholes!

  Anyway, the evening ends with sort of a prayer and a blessing from Elias. Don’t you just love Elias? Ironically, I think Magdiel had gotten a hold of Elias, filling his head with some nonsense about the end of times. However, thankfully, Mags put a twist on it, saying that there was a tree of life somewhere in another dimension and that all our prayers would be a mitzvah.

  Elias bows our heads under the chuppah, which symbolizes the home in Jewish lore. Maya and I close our eyes as Elias blesses us and ordains our love and dedication to each other. Elias smiles, nodding to the satisfaction of both the Carmelite nuns and the righteous thirty-six while reciting a prayer sanctifying the perfection of our souls. The righteous thirty-six chant “Shalom!”

  Out of our rapture, something is revealed. Magdiel pulls me aside. “I need to tell you something,” he says.

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now, my dear friend Michael. The righteous thirty-six have voted.”

  “Voted?”

  Magdiel nods. “Yes, they feel that they need to tell you something.”

  “I see,” I say, taking a swig of Mt. Carmel’s best red wine.

  “They want you to know that within the infinite mysterious world of the Ein Sof, a determination has been made. Remember: the Kabbalists feel that one day the Messiah will reappear, and that this person will walk forth from this village—the village of Isfaya.”

  I catch Maya’s eye and wave to her. She must be wondering what Magdiel is talking about so seriously.

  “They believe you are that person, Michael. They believe that you are the Descendant.”