by Gary Moreau
“I’m not going to rank order reality for you. It’s a meaningless exercise. It’s not necessary to put everything in a list from biggest to smallest, but there is a difference. The physical world, the one I sense to exist, does not require my existence, but for beliefs and emotions to exist, I must also exist.”
“So, if you ceased to exist, then there would be only one class of reality. Is that correct?”
“I guess so.”
“What if two individuals sensed two different physical worlds? Which would you say existed then?”
“Are you saying that you don’t see that red bunch of the flowers over there, or feel the wind on your face?” Casey asked.
“I am merely asking questions, as I have been taught, but I feel resistance. I am able to remain true to my duty in life only by the most pure exercise of my will, without reason to support it.” His words became halting, each one requiring a special effort. “I am fighting.”
Casey stopped walking when he noticed that Yamaguchi was no longer at his side. He turned back and looked up at Yamaguchi’s face. Yamaguchi’s brow was furrowed and, despite the cool breeze, his face was glistening with perspiration. Seeing this man, who Casey had come to believe was impervious, showing physical distress during a casual stroll in the countryside, made Casey shiver with dread.
Yamaguchi’s small, dark eyes met Casey’s. “I do not fall,” he said.
“You don’t fall? What the hell does that mean?”
“There was no reason, yet I fell. I do not fall for no reason.”
He said it with such utter certainty that Casey too believed it as a statement of incontestable fact, yet he had fallen. Casey turned from the man and looked ahead. He could see a white spot on the horizon that marked the location of Li’s farm. He returned his gaze to Yamaguchi.
“All right,” Casey said, “I too feel a wrongness. My senses tell me one thing, but my mind tells me there are discrepancies. There are cracks, as if reality doesn’t quite fit together. I’ve spent years studying the colonists and knew many of them personally. At first, I thought they were only reacting strangely to me,” he lowered his voice, “because of what I did. But now I’m beginning to believe that some kind of change has taken place in them, not me. Thank you, Yamaguchi. You have no idea how much this means to me. I was beginning to have serious doubts about my sanity. Especially after…well, you know.”
“If you believe you are different, you are right. There is something special about you.”
“Is it my deodorant?” Casey waited but Yamaguchi didn’t respond so he continued. “You don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you?”
“No.”
“All right then. What the hell? I’ll bite. What’s special about me?”
“Being around you makes a person want to hurt you, to expel you. When I am with you, I have the urge to reach out and crush you.”
Casey began backing away and glanced toward the farm dome, wondering if he could make it before Yamaguchi caught him.
Yamaguchi continued. “I refuse to be governed by the lower qualities of instinct or unfounded emotionality. I choose to be governed by intellect and duty. I observe and seek to know.”
Casey stopped his retreat. “Does that mean I don’t have to worry about you crushing me?”
Yamaguchi stood silently.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”
Casey began walking toward Li’s farm, but kept his head partially turned so he could see Yamaguchi in his peripheral vision. After a hundred meters, he gave up. He turned to face Yamaguchi.
“If you’re going to crush me, then to hell with it. Do it.”
“I choose not to.”
“All right then.” Casey nodded. “I’m good with that.”
He pivoted away from Yamaguchi and began walking. The small white dome of the farmhouse was easy to see against the verdant green of the plain. He came to a sudden stop. There was something beyond the farmhouse. As he stared at it, the fogginess around the object cleared. It was a huge structure, sleek but with sections missing, as if it were crumbling. It looked like a derelict starship, but its patchy amber coloration and exaggerated curves looked nothing like the Pinnacle.
“What do you observe?” Yamaguchi asked.
Casey slowly turned away from the incredible structure until he was focused on the face of the giant. A shiver passed through him and he pointed toward the gigantic artifact. It had to be ten times the size of the Pinnacle.
Yamaguchi looked in the direction Casey indicated and then returned to stare at Casey.
“Don’t you see it?” Casey asked.
“I see the plain. I see the mountains. I see the sky.”
Casey swiveled and saw only the lush, flower speckled plain and the distant mountains. He slipped his hand into his jumpsuit to feel the medicated patch, to ensure it was still there. Had he forgotten to replace it on time? Briefly, he considered returning to the Pinnacle, but there was likely enough medication being released into his system, even it was at a reduced dosage.
“What did you observe?” Yamaguchi asked again.
Casey shook his head. “Nothing. I saw nothing.”
He turned away and began walking with his attention focused on his feet and the grass. There was no excitement, no wonder, only doubts about himself. The emptiness hurt. He was a fraud, a hypocrite, to talk about reality as if he deserved to have an opinion.
They walked toward the small dome without further discussion.
As they closed the distance, Casey saw two figures bent over in the age-old tableau of humans tending to the soil, hoes in hand. How different it will be, he thought, when they roll out the machines and tear up the floor of the plain in giant swathes.
It was not until the two men were near enough to hear Li laugh at some comment made by Simon, that Simon chanced to look up and see them. He said something sharply to Li and she too looked in their direction. They stood straight, hoes in hand and grim faced while Casey and Yamaguchi walked the last few steps.
“Hello, Li. Looks like you’re not exactly overjoyed to see me,” Casey said.
Simon spoke. “Why have you come here, Conklin?”
“Simon, what has happened to your manners? I’ve come all this way on foot, just to make a neighborly visit. Aren’t you at least going to invite us in for some refreshments?”
Li and Simon’s eyes met in a brief, wordless conversation, then Li turned to walk in the direction of the small dome.
“Come along, Casey,” Li said, “and you too, Mister Yamaguchi, if you want to.” Her tone was one of resignation. Simon brought up the rear.
The door to the simple dome was an old fashioned one; it swung open on hinges. Li held the door open for Casey and Yamaguchi to enter the cool interior of her home.
Casey looked around. It was plain but clean. It consisted of one round room, with a foam-steel table and four chairs, a reconstitution unit and two sleeping pallets, flanked by their small preservation chests which were being used as bedside tables. There were a few personal touches. There was a plastic jug, decorated with twisted cord that was being used as a vase for a bouquet of yellow flowers and on the back wall there was a nearly completed mural of a mountain scene. It was skillfully done and obviously depicted the mountains on the distant horizon. He walked over to get a closer look.
“Do you like it?” Li asked with evident pride.
“Yes, it’s beautifully done. I didn’t know you were an artist.”
“I’m not. Simon painted it for me. It’s one of the reasons I like it so much out here. Those mountains are remarkably like the mountains near my home, back on Earth. It’s one of my strongest and most vivid memories, of being with my family, and the mountains, always the beautiful mountains in the distance.” Her voice was velvety with remembered contentment and love.
Casey walked toward the table and noticed the shine of tears in Li’s eyes before she turned to go over to the reconstitution unit. He pulled out a white foam-steel chai
r and sat down. Simon begrudgingly pulled out a chair to join him. After a few minutes of Simon staring at Casey and Casey keeping his eyes downcast at the tabletop, Li came over to the table with a steaming pot of tea, made from tea leaves she had brought in her preservation chest all those billions of miles from Earth. She placed fine porcelain cups in front of Casey and Simon and filled their cups before she sat down with her own cup. Yamaguchi had refused the offer and remained standing near the door.
The tea was hot and fragrant. Casey sipped at it. He felt at ease, despite Simon’s constant stare. It was the first time he had been in a real home in a long time and it reminded him more of Earth than anything else he had experienced since awakening.
“The tea is excellent,” Casey declared. “Thank you. And these cups are beautiful.”
“They belonged to my mother,” Li said.
Casey savored the warmth of the cup he cradled in his hands, as much as the luxury of tasting tea. His gaze settled on a crude candelabra sitting in the center of the table. It was constructed from salvaged pipes and had a certain rustic charm.
Casey nodded toward it and looked to Simon. “Did you make the candle holder too? I like it.”
“It’s a Menorah,” Simon said.
“Sorry,” Casey said. “How stupid of me. Of course it is.”
“Simon is reintroducing the old holidays to the new world,” Li explained. “He’s beginning with a minor holiday called Hanukkah.”
“I think I could find some material in the medical suite that could be used for candles,” Casey offered.
“We can manage,” Simon replied.
Casey nodded and they sat silence, until Li spoke. “Why did you come here, Casey?”
Casey was reluctant to get his business over with so quickly and ignored her question. “You and Simon have a nice place here. I can see why you haven’t been coming by the ship. After seeing you, it seems unlikely, but I want to repeat my offer. If you ever want to train to become a doctor, I’d be pleased to take you on. I was very impressed with the way you handled yourself during that accident.”
Simon put his hand gently on Li’s arm, as if to remind her of what they had.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Li said with certainty. “How is Tabor doing?”
“He’ll recover, in time.” There was a lull, and then Casey spoke again. “I see you’ve turned in your maroon for the green of the agri-techs.”
“Yes. Simon and I have found the beginnings of true peace out here. It’s a simple life, but I never realized how satisfying it could be to plant something in the ground and help it grow. I feel useful. There was a woman I spent a couple of years with in Tibet before I moved to Copper Mountain. She used to tell me how much joy she got out of it, but I didn’t understand at the time. Her name is…was Roxanne Wiley. She helped me get a position on the starship. Did you ever meet her?”
“She was rather famous at Copper Mountain. I knew of her, but never met her. Jack Nichols helped me get into the program.”
“Casey, why did you come to see me? Did Slater send you?”
“No.”
Her voice became hard. “You can tell Slater if he wanted Simon and me out of the way, he has succeeded. All I ask is that he leaves us alone. He can run his little kingdom as he wishes. Just tell him to stay the hell away from here.”
“Slater didn’t send me,” Casey said.
“You must think I’m naive,” Li said. “First you talk to me through his sacred com-network and now you show up with one of his,” she paused, as if substituting a word, “one of his assistants.”
Casey tried to change the direction of the conversation. “Have you heard anything from Jon?”
She nodded. “Lisa Bouviet and he are on a test farm about a half kilometer from here. We see him from time to time. He seems to be doing okay.”
Casey raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Lisa Bouviet, huh?”
Li nodded and then they sat in strained silence.
Casey focused on the missing finger on her left hand. “When you were helping me with Tabor, I noticed that you had lost a finger. I can help you with that. What happened to it?” he asked innocently.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Simon growled.
“I’m not joking. After I rescue Tabor from the tank, I could put Li in and regenerate the finger in two or three days. What’d you say?”
Li’s olive-dark complexion paled perceptively. She hid her hand in her lap and eased back from the table, increasing the distance between Casey and herself.
Simon pushed back his chair and stood protectively over Li, massaging her shoulders. “It’s time for you to go,” he said in a steely voice.
Casey remained sitting. “Now just a minute, Simon. I didn’t come here to fight with you and I don’t have the foggiest notion what's getting you all riled up. I was just offering to help.”
“State your business now or leave. You are not welcome in our home.”
“All right.” Casey raised his hands as if in surrender. “All right. All I wanted to do was ask Li about a friend of mine, Grace N’duforchu. I found her body in pieces, stashed in a box in the back of the lab.”
“Casey,” she hesitated, searching for words, “it was right after the Awakening. Things were pretty crazy then.” She stopped when she realized what she had said.
“Forget it, Li,” Casey said. “Things were rather crazy then. I just want to know what you can tell me about her.”
Li took a breath and released it before answering. “She was found sitting in the control chair on the bridge. She’d been dead for quite a while before the Awakening.”
Quite a while indeed, Casey thought. Even most of her hair had disintegrated. “Was there any sign of violence?” he asked.
Li thought for a moment. “No, it looked like she had just gone to sleep and never woke up.”
Casey hesitated before his next question. To even consider such a thing seemed like a betrayal of her memory and their friendship. “A laser-scalpel was in the box with her bones. Did it look like she might have killed herself?”
“I can’t say. There was almost no soft tissue remaining. I found it on the seat next to her corpse.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
Li shook her head but then stopped.
“Did you remember something?” Casey asked.
“It’s probably nothing, but I do recall seeing some scratches on the arm of the control chair.”
“What did the scratches look like? Was it a picture or maybe words?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Was Vlada Bezdicek or Julio Mendoza––” Casey couldn’t continue. It felt like there was lump in his throat, cutting off his windpipe.
“Are you all right?” Li asked.
He lowered his gaze to the tabletop. His friends, something terrible had happened. Was he somehow responsible?
“Casey, do you want a glass of water or something?”
He shook his head. “Were any of the other doctors found?” he finally managed to ask.
“No, at least I didn't hear of any other bodies being found. Only Grace.” Li paused. “I’m sorry about your friend. We’ve all lost friends.” She stopped, her eyes downcast.
“You have what you came for,” Simon said harshly. “Now get out of here and don’t come back.”
Casey nodded. “As you wish. Thank you for your hospitality.”
He meant it, but it was evident that both Li and Simon considered it just another one of Casey’s sarcastic remarks. Holding onto the table, he shoved himself up and slowly straightened his back, which had become sore. He walked stiffly to the door and Yamaguchi opened it. Casey looked back into the room. Simon and Li were holding each other. Casey felt bitter regret and envy; they had each other and they had their youth. What did he have?
Chapter 16
Casey walked out into the sunlight and started the hike back with Yamaguchi at his side. In the distance, the shape of the Pinnacle arose, a
soaring tower, bringing to mind the magical castles of a children’s story, but its dull gray coloration suggested malevolence. To Casey, it simply looked like a long way to walk. His joints and muscles were aching from the unusual exertion and he was exhausted. He didn’t look to see if there was a derelict phantom starship. He didn’t even look toward the mountains. He would never see them up close, he admitted to himself. He was tired and old. He glanced over at the big man who walked beside him and recalled what Li had said those many days ago in the Storage Deck. If it weren’t for Slater’s men, he truly would have no human contact at all. He thought about the companionship that Li and Simon shared.
“What did Simon mean about Li’s finger?” Casey asked. “He seemed to think I knew something.”
“You do know.”
“The hell I do! If I knew, I wouldn’t ask.” He was exasperated, but Yamaguchi said no more.
They walked in silence until Casey spoke again. “I’ve been doing some thinking. As difficult as this was to accept, the truth is I have no friends, and those I left behind on Earth are long dead. No one gives a damn about me.”
Casey paused, hoping Yamaguchi would object, even if he didn’t mean it, but he said nothing so Casey continued. “Obviously it’s my duty to pass on my expertise to someone. Don’t know who. But, after that, who cares?” He sighed. “I haven’t told anyone else this, but I think of the colonists as my children, my poor suffering children. If I could have one wish granted, it would be to free them from whatever has taken them. If I could do that, I’d die a happy man.”
“You are the One.”
Casey stopped and turned to face him. “I’m the one? What the hell does that mean? Shit, when you do speak it sounds like…like I’m talking with a fortune cookie.” That made Casey smile.
“When my Sensei was about to die, he told me his work was not yet done. He told me that he would reach into the future through me and, through me, he would talk with the One. I asked how I would recognize the One and he told me I would know. You are the One.” With that Yamaguchi bowed to Casey.