Last summer, while under hypnosis, Cole saw a vision of the Messenger. The experience lingered in his mind for weeks, and he often wondered what it would be like to meet the mysterious monk in person, and if so, what information he would glean about his future.
Making his way up the ramp of the Aithon, Cole hopes that he’s prepared to absorb the wisdom that the monk is about to impart once they reach their destination. But like everyone the Messenger encounters, no amount of preparation could ready him for what he’s about to receive.
Chapter Sixteen – Polymath
North-Western Tibet | January 28, 2012 | 9:42 am, China Standard Time
The Aithon touches down in a small clearing a few hundred meters from the staircase to the temple. As the ramp lowers into the snow, Cole and Paige feel the rush of cold wind burst into the passenger bay, stinging their skin. Paige removes her black-framed glasses and rubs the edge of her sweater against the lenses, wiping away the condensation before adjusting them back on her nose with a tiny scowl. She often complains about having to endure the sweltering heat of the Outback, but walking headfirst into a snowstorm is making her nostalgic for sun burns and sweat drenched clothing. She pulls her jacket tight around her body as she makes her way off the plane.
Cole follows, and steps into the ankle-deep snow wearing nothing more than running shoes, jeans and a t-shirt, completely unaffected by the bitter cold. He squints against the wind and studies the temple. Every detail of his surroundings mirror his experience when he was under hypnosis; the towering white staircase that leads to the impressive front doors, the soaring snow-capped mountains that frame the vista – even the feeling of reverence just being in its presence.
Cole turns to Paige, who looks even more annoyed than she is cold. “Are you ready for a little walk?”
“Sure,” she groans. “You don’t suppose that legendary all-knowing Buddhist monks keep hot chocolate in their temples, do you?”
He grins and wraps an arm around her shoulders, as they begin the slow trek through the deep snow.
***
Approaching and finally entering the temple is like déjà vu for Cole. And just an obvious relief for Paige. The monk is in the exact same position on the floor, even in the same pose as he was in Cole’s dream six months ago. The small, elderly man looks to be deep in meditation, cross-legged on a thin mat before a towering gold statue of Buddha.
“I’ve been expecting you,” the monk says. He remains seated, his eyes closed.
Cole and Paige approach, but stand at a distance, unsure of temple etiquette.
“But you already know that, yes? You have seen me before.” The monk opens his eyes and stands. His frame is almost comically small, buried beneath his traditional orange robe. A head shorter than Paige – who isn’t much more than five feet tall herself – the bald, elderly monk looks like he passed his hundredth birthday long ago, but moves like a man a quarter of his age.
“I saw you while I was under hypnosis,” Cole says. He feels an odd sensation, as if he’s speaking as a mere formality; that his thoughts are being read before the words escape him.
The monk glances up at Paige, and his thin lips crease into a gregarious smile. “Paige Davenport, would you please allow your friend some time to speak with me in private?”
She politely nods as she rubs her arms for warmth.
“We will return shortly.” The monk places his hand on Cole’s forearm and begins to guide him down the long corridor.
The Messenger pads barefoot across the cold marble floors, leading Cole around a corner. “Donovan Cole,” the monk says once they’re travelled out of earshot. “You came to me today because you are afraid.”
Cole stops dead in his tracks. “What makes you say that?”
“Your hatred. Your anger.” The monk raises both his palms a few feet from Cole’s powerful chest, as if he’s warming his hands in front of a raging fire. “I feel it. It is powerful, and it is dangerous. Not just for you, but for everyone you care about.”
“Anger isn’t the same thing as fear,” Cole says.
“Is it not?” the monk replies with a curious tone to his voice. “If you already know so much then why did you travel so far to seek me out?”
Cole isn’t sure if he offended the monk by challenging him, or if the man even can be offended. He decides that backtracking might be the best strategy. “No, I’m sorry...I mean, I’m just confused.”
The monk nods. “I see. Well, Donovan Cole, I hope that I am able to clear some of your confusion.” He retrieves a pair of frayed red mats that are leaning against the wall, and unrolls them across the floor. He sits with his legs folded once again, and invites Cole to sit across from him. “Now,” he continues, “Let us examine your anger.”
Cole crosses his legs beneath him. “I don’t know where to start.” He tries to straighten his posture and assume a similar pose to the monk, but it’s more difficult than it looks. For someone who appears no younger than a hundred, the little guy is a lot more limber than Cole would have guessed.
“Start at the beginning,” the Monk says. He closes his milky grey eyes and begins to hum softly.
Cole takes it as a cue to close his eyes as well, but before he can open his mouth to respond his mind floats away. He vanishes from inside his own head and reappears in a darkened graveyard beneath an ash grey sky. The wind is violent and the warm rain pours down in torrents, obscuring his vision.
He wipes the water from his eyes and sees a familiar man standing before him. The General, in full military uniform, is brandishing a long silver pistol that doesn’t resemble any existing weapon that he recognizes. It looks more like an oversized toy than an actual gun, but something tells Cole that it’s not to be taken lightly.
Before the General can level his weapon Cole rushes forward and rips it from his hand, tossing it out of reach. He launches a volley of punches that connect with perfect accuracy; time moves in slow motion as each strike makes contact with the General’s face. Blood pours freely from lacerations over his eyebrow and the inside of his lip, and his neck contorts awkwardly from the impact of each violent collision.
The General’s battered body hits the ground with a small splash, and he instinctively starts to crawl away.
Cole takes two long strides and kicks his head like a soccer ball, slamming his shinbone into the side of the General’s skull. The result is a satisfying crack, and the General’s head nearly rotates in a complete half-circle.
His lifeless body collapses to the ground.
Cole’s and the Monk’s eyes snap open in unison. “What was that?” Cole asks, massaging the side of his head.
“Your future,” the Monk says, “if you choose it. But you must first decide what you want. You can continue to travel down the pathway of hatred and fear, or redefine yourself through new actions.”
“So you’re saying I could choose to not kill the General? What’s the alternative?”
The monk answers with a broad smile. “You can choose forgiveness.”
Cole’s expression changes from slightly confused to utterly perplexed. “So...you’re saying I should forgive the man who tried to have me killed, almost murdered my best friend, and just arrested the only father I ever had?”
“No,” the Monk says, shaking his head slowly. “I am saying that your hatred will lead you down one path – the pathway that you have envisioned. Continue to feed your rage and you will have the revenge you desire...and you will also have to live with the consequences of your actions.”
“I can’t...” Cole says quietly, staring down at his hands. “I can’t forgive the General. He doesn’t deserve it.”
“Maybe not. But forgiveness is an attribute of the strong. It is not only the greatest gift you can offer someone, but it is the most powerful message you can send to the universe.” The monk stands and walks to a small alcove in the wall, where hot coals are being used to heat the inside of the temple. He uses a pair of nearby metal tongs to extract a single b
urning coal from the fire. “Here,” he says, walking towards the mat where Cole remains seated, “open your hand.”
Cole spreads his fingers and the monk drops the burning stone into his palm.
“Now close it,” the monk instructs.
He folds his fingers tightly around the coal, and instantly feels the searing pain of skin burning off his hand.
“This is your hatred,” the monk says, extending a brittle finger towards Cole’s fist. “It is a hot coal that you intend to throw at someone, causing injury. But as you hold on to your anger, you only injure yourself.”
Cole opens his hand and lets the stone fall to the floor. He looks deep into the monk’s eyes, and offers a small, barely perceptible nod.
The Messenger tucks his hands into his loose orange robe and returns the gesture. “Your power wanes, does it not? Continue to hate, continue to fear...and you will lose everything that you desire. This is the control that you seek. It is not control over your surroundings, but over yourself.”
As Cole rises to his feet, the ground trembles beneath him. They look at the floor curiously and then back at each other.
A second shockwave hits, more powerful this time, loosening a piece of the ceiling. A support beam crashes to the marble floor, missing them by just a few feet. Several chunks of the roof follow.
Paige sprints around the corner and down the long hallway, screaming as she frantically waves her hands overhead. “They’re here! We need to get out of this place now!”
A third bomb hits just outside the temple wall, blasting Cole, Paige and the monk backwards. A hailstorm of rock and debris pelt their bodies as they fall, slamming them dangerously into the floor.
Paige coughs and brushes the rubble from her jacket, but luckily seems to be unharmed.
Cole stands and pulls the monk to his feet, who also appears to have only suffered minor injuries. “Are you all right?”
The monk nods, and scurries out. He’s able to navigate his way down the long flight of stairs with surprising ease. Cole and Paige follow, and sprint across the snow-covered field towards the Aithon.
Jets scream by overhead, too many to count, and they’re launching missiles at every target in sight. Villages in the distance burst into flames, and blood-curdling screams echo off the mountain walls.
“Come with us,” Paige shouts, her voice straining to be heard over the booming explosions. “It’s your only chance!”
“There’s always more than one path,” the Monk replies. “You of all people should know that. Go.”
Paige and Cole sprint towards the jet, leaving the Monk behind at his request. As they approach, the entrance ramp lowers from underbelly of the Aithon, inviting them aboard. When they reach the passenger bay the jet begins its vertical ascent, and is rocked with a massive blast before it can clear the mountain tops. A direct hit sets it off-kilter, sending everyone tumbling across the white durasteel floor.
“We lost an engine,” the captain shouts from the intercom. “We won’t be able to reach our top speed and lose these guys.”
Cole leaps to his feet and runs to the wall, slamming his hand into the red button. “So what do we do?”
“Fight back,” the captain replies.
“I thought this was a transport jet?” Cole screams. “What the hell are we going to fight back with? There must be twenty fighters out there!”
Continuous streams of bullets ricochet off the jet’s graphene-coated hull, causing no more than cosmetic damage. But the missiles are weakening the structure, and it can only sustain so much punishment.
Cole’s eyes dart to the entrance ramp, and then back to the intercom. “Slow this thing down,” he shouts. “I’ve got an idea.”
Chapter Seventeen – Kyonshi
Western Australia | January 28, 2012 | 11:17 am, Western Standard Time
“This is pathetic,” Allison says with a pout. “I’m looking out the window, through a telescope. And you know what I’ve seen in the last two hours? Dirt. And then I saw some more dirt. And then a kangaroo hopped by.”
Goto hates it when Allison hangs out in his office, but this is the only room in the compound where there are any interesting toys. The oversized second-storey windows have the best view of the landscape, and his antique telescope always provides a little entertainment in an otherwise uneventful day. When Allison can’t sleep she often sneaks in here to stargaze, but lately she’s been spending some mornings and afternoons in the office as well. When she grows tired of staring into the distance she carefully moves items around the room. Nothing drastic – she’ll just transport all the paperclips from one desk drawer to the other, or move his collection of ornaments a few inches to the left. Goto is obsessive-compulsive enough to detect even the smallest variation in his meticulously arranged workspace, so her daily routine is to see how angry she can make him with the least amount of effort. If she can cause a profanity-laced tirade by simply tilting a painting, she considers her day a success.
Sitting behind Goto’s desk, Brodie pops a handful of pills into his mouth and chases them with rum straight from the bottle. After gulping down the last drop he burps loudly and grins. “That’s cool. I haven’t seen a kangaroo in at least two days.”
“No dickhead, that’s not ‘cool’. I should be shopping on the Champs-Élysées in Paris, or lounging on a yacht in Monaco. But instead I’m here, in the desert, watching you drug yourself into a coma. And the highlight of my day has been watching a giant rat bounce around.”
“Do you ever want more out of life?” Brodie asks.
“Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?”
“I’m not talking about buying shit and travelling around the world. I mean more out of yourself; like do you ever wish you were a better person? That you lived up to your full potential?”
“No,” Allison replies dismissively as she pulls her iPhone from her pocket. “I know I’m awesome.”
“It must be nice to have that kind of confidence.”
“Yup. It rocks.” She raps her fingers on the touch screen as she talks.
Brodie throws his hands up in frustration. “What the hell? I’m talking to myself over here.”
“Sorry, sorry...I’m just sending a really...quick...Tweet.” B-O-R-E-D. Tweet. “Okay, I’m done. Keep going, your story is really great so far.”
“Sometimes I just want to be more than I am. I see how bad-ass Cole is and how fearless he is when he runs into battle. I just wish I had some of that swagger, you know?”
Allison grins without averting her eyes from her phone. “So you can impress Dia.”
“What?”
She rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows about your crush, Brodie. We talk about it all the time. Even the maid knew...before I fired her.”
“Damn, it’s like I’m in high school again.”
“Cole has been moping around like a big baby for months too, and you guys just have to face it: she’s gone. She doesn’t care about either of you. And hello, daddy issues? That chick is seriously damaged. You’re not going to get through to her by chatting over a cup of coffee. What she needs is therapy – or one of Paige’s epic mind-wipes.”
Brodie shakes his head. “Yeah, because that worked out so well in the past.”
“Well it’s either that or kill her,” Allison says with a shrug.
“It won’t come to that.”
“Are you serious? What do you think is gonna happen here? The General is a ‘general’ for a reason, you idiot. It’s because he does what General’s do: he leads people into battle. You think if we walk up to his Collider and hit the ‘off button’ he’s just going to stand there with his thumb up his ass? He’s going to call in the biggest army he can get his hands on.”
“And you actually think Dia will be part of it?” Brodie asks.
“Why not? She wants the same thing he does.”
He leans back and exhales loudly. “I can’t fight her. This shit is crazy...we’ve been friends for years.”
“Well then you’re going to have to sit on the sidelines for the big finale, because I don’t think there’s a third option here.”
“And what are you going to do?”
Allison smiles confidently as she refreshes her iPhone’s browser, re-checking her Twitter feed. “What I always do...I’m gonna win.”
“No matter who gets hurt in the process.”
Allison groans, growing tired of Brodie’s whining. “Oh boo-hoo. You heard what Goto said: if the portal gets ripped any further it could be game over for the entire galaxy. Dia is one person – one very annoying person with split ends and no understanding of how to properly moisturize.”
“So we sacrifice her to win the game.”
“You can’t think about it that way, Brodie. There’s the good guys, and the bad guys, and the good guys – us – have to beat the bad guys – them. That’s the rule. Dia’s with the bad guys and they want to destroy the universe. ”
Brodie walks to the window and stares out into the desert. “We’re here talking about killing one my best friends...I’m just not sure what side I’m on anymore.”
Jens raps his hand on the wall twice and sticks his head through the office door. “Sorry to interrupt the Vagina Monologues here, but have you guys looked out the front? There’s something going on out in the distance with some of the aboriginals.”
Allison quickly adjusts the lens of the telescope, and spots a group of people approaching on the horizon. “Hmm...I’ve never seen any natives around here before. What are they doing?” A few dozen figures come into view, and more continue to join the horde. After a minute there are over a hundred.
“What have I told you about hanging out in my office!” Goto shouts, storming into the room as everyone peers out the window. “Wait, what are you all looking at?”
“You should check this out,” Allison says without pulling away from the telescope’s eyepiece. “It looks like they’re walking straight for us...but I thought that nobody knew we were here?”
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