The One We Feed

by Kristina Meister

  Drops spilled over the rims of my eyelids and sparkled on the leather beneath my nose. “There’s just so much…,” I began, but how was I to explain what I felt to a man who had never read a mind, seen an event over and over from every possible angle, learned a language in five seconds flat? “It all gets pushed into a few moments. All the faces...stories, images…they get smooshed together, and I try to…” I could hear the desperation in my voice. “I try to package them up, I try to make them as smooth and simple as possible, but I can’t. I see everything, every detail and it’s filled up every single spare inch.”

  I broke down for the third time that day. He listened to me cry and didn’t even bother to shush me. He just sat there, matching my quiet weeping with the rhythm of his breath.

  “I’m losing it,” I admitted finally.

  I could tell his eyes were closed. Men like him have open eyes in their voices; you always know when they see. Right now he was trying just to feel, so his eyes had to be closed.

  “You’ve gone through a lot of changes. Maybe it will take some time to learn to cope. It may not feel like it’s that simple right now, but maybe it is, hmm?”

  I let out a shaky breath and nodded against the wheel. “But, Matt, I...I’ve had a terrible day.”

  “Oh? Wanna talk about it?”

  For a moment he sounded so like my father that it coaxed a small squeak from me.

  I realized then how much of our friendship was had over the phone. Calls about Eva, calls about Arthur, calls about this, that, or the other. Had it always been like this? In the Dark Ages, before technology, had people just gone through life lying to one another or had they sat down, face to face, bared their souls, and suffered in self-consciousness? Or had we invented gadgets just so that we could finally unburden ourselves? Were we an entire race of people opposed to squirming or a race on the verge of great desire, looking out over some horizon line?

  I knew Jinx would say that technology was the only reality left to evolution since it had halted natural selection, giving us medicine, surgery, knowledge of the heritable baggage of our parents’ genomes. Technology was neither good nor bad, just an extension of our own craft, but I knew it was merely the easiest extension. Those little mechanical bridges brought together vast distances that only seemed vast. Really, they were so small, only a breath away. We just couldn’t see it.

  We saw the world as it appeared and tapped the resources at our fingertips, but there was so much more to us. There were deep wells of potential, unbounded assets that could reach across divides and bring us all together in a way nothing ever had. Technology wasn’t our evolution, it was our crutch.

  So much easier to make it difficult.

  “Come on,” he said.

  But until I could reach across with only my soul and make him feel me, all I had were words, spoken on a frequency, carried and bounced about by satellites hovering thousands of miles above.

  “I killed someone.”

  No one saw it as the great transgression I did. It was just an unavoidable occurrence. Well, however impossibly fated it was, it was happening to me. My destiny had crossed paths with that man’s in a massive train wreck, and I, the stronger, had triumphed. However unavoidable it was, I had made it that way.

  Matthew sat up in his chair, and I could almost hear his mouth snap open like the rolling blinds on the window in his office. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, but he’s not.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. He may have been a bad man, a good man, but…I killed him, a person who had cheated death for years, and he lost a hard-fought battle because I lost my temper.” My voice swung upward, warning of a distraught wail. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Lilith, hush. Don’t cry like that, please.”

  He would have been a good father. It felt somehow tragic that he had only ever taken care of other people’s children, found other people’s children, buried other people’s children. Perhaps that was commonality that bound us together so tightly.

  “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

  “If you suggest it’s that time of the month I swear I will never speak to you again.”

  “Don’t. It’s not the right time to joke. I won’t hold it against you if you’re just miserable for a while.” I heard him pull his hand across his stubble in a sound like a body being dragged through gravel. “You’re more acquainted with how these things work. You know there has to be a reason.”

  “I don’t know that, Matt. I don’t.”

  “Well, fine. I will know it for you. There is a reason.”

  In his voice I heard the stolid optimism that had not been his originally. It had belonged to me. I had loaned it to him weeks ago and apparently had never gotten it back. Everything I had done had ended badly, and, despite the fact that I was trying very hard to be the woman Arthur kept warning me I was, I was failing and had no idea why. Now Jinx was under the impression that just because one or two awesome things had happened around me, I was there to single-handedly save the immortals from their own unending stupidity.

  For some reason then, I thought of my one real success, Karl, and needed to know for sure if I could count him as such. “Have you heard from Karl recently?”

  Matthew let out a dark chuckle. “Funny you should mention that. I have something I want you to hear, but only if you’re up to it.”

  “I need something besides this.”

  He didn’t ask me what I meant. He got out of his chair and opened the farmhouse door. I could hear that the coffee house was empty, it being early Sunday morning, but the tinkle of glass told me Sam was hard at work, cleaning dishes and restacking them for a day of fantastic but muted customer service.

  “Hey, Sam, play it again,” Matt instructed with his mouth away from the mic.

  I couldn’t help it; I snorted and began to laugh like a crazy person. I had always known he was my Humphrey Bogart, no matter how strenuously he denied it or how scathing his glares had become. He heard me and returned to the phone with a chuckle.

  “That was a freebie, to cheer you up.” When I finally stifled my laughter, he continued. “Yesterday we got this envelope in the mail. It had a flash drive in it. The only thing it had on it was an audio file. Sam’s got it queued.”

  “Okay.”

  For a while, there was no sound, then suddenly Karl’s voice issued forth, uncertain and embarrassed. A far cry from the powerful, supernaturally commanding one he had once used.

  “I know how strange this is”—he cleared his throat self-consciously—“and how badly you must want to shut this off immediately and throw the damn thing in a fire, but it would mean so much to me if you would hear me out. That night…,” he said in a hush, “something in me changed. I’m sending this as a peace offering, as a humble plea for forgiveness, but as unwilling as you may be to listen, it is also a cry for help.

  “I need to reach Lilith.”

  My skin prickled as my name echoed around the cab.

  “I know how much you care for her and how much she was willing to give up to protect you. I trust your judgment as her closest friends. I ask only that you listen to this whole message and when you’ve heard it make an honest and unbiased assessment. If you feel she would wish to hear it too, please, if you would, pass it along. I am sure you know how to contact her.”

  There was a pause then, as if he had all his words written on thick, watermarked paper and was rifling through them slowly and deliberately. I could hear each false start, each tiny gasp.

  “Lilith…,” his voice quavered, and the idea that it did so at my name, made me somewhat silly with accomplishment, the sweetest of poisons. “I’m not certain what I can say to you that you do not already know. Frankly, I’m in awe of you. There was a part of me that somewhere went blind and never knew it. It thrashed around, thinking the whole world had gone black. When I met your sister, a little spark of light came back to me. I ran at it full
force and that night...it was as if everything glowed with its own fire. I know it was me, that I was the one who turned the corner, but it was you who showed me the way, and I need to thank you.”

  Again, his voice broke. Warmth flooded my body and soothed many doubts. For once, I could breathe easily.

  “I have questions,” he continued, “and perhaps even answers for you. I have returned to AMRTA and have taken Moksha’s place. In the past month a tremendous amount of work has been done to repair old mistakes and put things back onto the path, your path...his path. I can only extend my hand and say I am willing, if you will have me. I can only apologize to Sam, Detective Unger, and Jinx and make my resources available to them if they will take them. I only have that, because my credibility is gone.”

  Not so, my friend.

  “When you can, when you find that you need to, please contact me. Thank you and please forgive me.” The speech ended in an abrupt click.

  Matt came back to the phone. “So?”

  My smile was turning into a rather self-congratulatory grin. “He’s telling the truth.”

  “What do you want us to do about it?”

  I raised my head from the steering wheel and rubbed at the flesh with cool fingers. It smoothed almost instantly. “Take him up on his offer. After all, he owes Sam a chunk of meat.”

  “And pain and suffering,” Sam growled from the background.

  “Gee whiz, Special Forces….” I laughed. “I’ve been shot loads of times, you wimp.”

  “Now, now, children,” Matt interrupted in good humor. “Do you want his phone number?”

  I leaned back into the chair and shook my head, relieved to know what was coming. “No, we have other ways of keeping in touch.”

  “Brat,” Sam rasped.

  “By the way,” I replied, suddenly feeling like my old, smart-assed self, “No doughnuts on your next stakeout. They’re going to give you another heart attack.”

  They were quiet for a moment. I could imagine that trying to keep up with the overlap of super-talents felt rather like a constant double-take. If one wasn’t careful, they might get motion sick. I sympathized.

  “Oookay,” Matt finally replied.

  “How is William?”

  Matt sighed. “Switched to Oxycodone, but I’m not sure what good it will do. Isn’t he supposed to be able to control his brain chemistry?”

  My momentary levity squashed, I closed my eyes. “It doesn’t work that way,” I said, only just having truly understood it myself. I thought I had figured out my relationship to the Arhat quickly enough, but only then did I see the separation between us, the remaining thing that made them feel so alien to me. “They’re stuck.”

  Pills and blood were but momentary fixes, lasting only as long as it took their efficient bodies to filter out the effects, because it was their minds that kept them fixated. The strange quirk of programming that had allowed them to become immortal would be with them forever. They could probably have tried to meditate around it, work on self-control until it stopped them from spiraling into madness like roller pigeons, but then the lust for life would dissipate and their immortality would end. I wasn’t even sure it could be done.

  “You’re not.”

  And that was the crux. Arthur had said I was different, even Karl’s scientist had said I was unique, but no one had said what that meant. I didn’t seem to be like the Arhat, so focused on a single truth or need that all things bowed to it. But could it be that the dharma was my trishna? I thought it freed me from fixation, but what if it was just another road to a padded room?

  That would be ironic.

  I had asked Arthur that very question once, to no avail. “That’s what they say. Something to do with adapting.”

  Matt sat down at the bar and uncorked a bottle. “And how’d they say you got to be that way?”

  I could feel it coming on again, that deranged, twisted giddiness that eventually led to glowing red eyes. I willed it back. “Eva. Or me. I don’t know. I think maybe it was all just an illusion that we were two separate people.” The sound of liquid sliding down his throat sent a shudder through me, though I couldn’t say why. I swallowed hard and reached for one of Jinx’s Redbulls but didn’t open it; his wrath would be unending. “I’m sorry. I’m in a strange mood.”

  “No need to apologize,” he said gently. “It’s perfectly reasonable.”

  “Maybe.”

  The bottle clinked against the glass once again. “Be careful, Ninja Girl.”

  “Not to hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it, right?”

  He didn’t laugh, but I knew he was still amused by me. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

  “Yeah...I’m getting good at that.” I hung up without a good bye and swept all my woes into a tidy pile in the back of my brain. I went hunting, knowing that I would find Karl because I knew he wanted me to.

  When I did, he was seated at Moksha’s dark wooden desk, stacks of papers before him in pale folders. He was leaning on one elbow in the glaring sunlight from the glass ceiling, pen poised to write. Near his right hand sat a coffee mug. In a flurry of curiosity, I swept toward it, only to discover that it held water, not the thick crimson liquid I expected I’d find.

  “I’ve kicked the habit,” he breathed and, before I could reply, looked up and found me. “Hello, Lilith. You got my message, then?”

  He was a different man from the one who had smashed my face into a concrete wall. Gone was the indistinct hauteur and imperial stare. He had softened and in softness seemed approachable, even gentle. I could now understand how a man like him had sat at the feet of the Buddha. As he smiled with his perfect white teeth that had seemed so like the Cheshire cat’s, I realized how handsome he had been all along. It had just been warped by some inner toxin.

  Much changed. I marveled at him.

  “You’re a miracle worker.”

  Credit where it’s due, my friend.

  He bowed his head as if overwhelmed to hear me say such a thing. Then he turned in the swivel chair and got to his feet.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come. When I looked for you in the jhana I couldn’t find you.”

  Sorry, I’m unlisted.

  He nodded. “But I knew if you were anywhere, it would be with one of them. I have something I want to talk about with you.”

  You don’t need to apologize.

  “I appreciate your forgiveness, but honestly, it’s not that.”

  He walked over to the wall of glass that contained Moksha’s breathtaking view and braided his fingers behind his back. Below him in the glow of midday, the city sparkled like the ocean, moving in its own ebb and flow, the line of the river just a current through its bustling heart. For a moment, I was lost in its rhythm and, with my mind’s eye blurred, could see that place of meetings, that indistinct joining of two worlds.

  Time and timeless.

  “It’s gone, Lilith.”

  In the fuzzy contentment of my altered state, I bent my thoughts back on him with an effort. Paradoxes were so easy to get lost in if you had no other tangible concerns. What’s gone?

  “My ability and all…well,” he shrugged sheepishly “…all the things that held me back. I’m no longer sick. It’s as if none of it had ever happened, as if that slow decline into insanity never was.”

  I think I was smiling, back in my body. I had to be, because suddenly everything sharpened, and I knew I was not just experiencing the headiness of the jhana. I was actually happy for him.

  That’s wonderful! I’m sure the population is enjoying their plentiful plasma and its many benefits!

  He smiled. “I didn’t drink it that often. Well…, at first. It just seemed to ease….” He looked away and then back to me. “There’s really nothing that can be said to sum up how disgusting I’ve been, how vile I seem to myself.”

  Hmm. The Crossroads is an interesting place, isn’t it? Makes it easier to focus when you know exactly where you come from.

  His brows furrowed
. He glanced up at me in obvious confusion, trying to make sense of my private terminology.

  “Crossroads…?”

  Something in my stomach clenched. He should have understood instantly; my word for the place was perfect, self-explanatory.

  “Crossroads?” he repeated. “What’s that?”

  It’s the place…, I began, trying to quantify an intangible concept with the clumsiness of increasing anxiety, each word pulling me away from him, the place where you meet your past and make yourself….

  He managed a nervous chuckle. “I’m not sure I’ve gotten there yet.”

  But you can’t be seen! Petula said….

  “Petula? How do you…?”

  It was Eva’s death all over again, her actual death, when, in the police room, I realized that the detective who’d told me of her suicide hadn’t even found out about it yet.

  You can’t be seen if you’ve gone through Parinirvana, I insisted.

  “Parinirvana?” he said, dumbfounded. “Lilith, I barely understand what I’m doing right now! I didn’t know parinirvana was possible until I became certain you were here, in this room, with me.”

  Dazed, I began to sense the changes in my body, sitting so far away. It was quickening, tensing, chemicals of discord churning. I didn’t have much time before the tether between us snapped, and I was tugged back to myself by the force of reality’s undercurrent.

  Then you haven’t seen the future?

  His face had paled slightly, though he was fighting it. I was frightening him. He’d only just begun to change, and I was hammering him with nonsensical questions. He shook his head.

  “Is that how you did it?” His hand lifted and covered the lower half of his face then swept backward through his dark hair. “All that time, you were seeing the future?”

  I jolted upright in the seat, our perfect bridge forgotten at once, and looked around me. The sun had risen. Patrons of the hotel were staggering down to the office for the continental breakfast, yawning satisfyingly.

  Above me, looking down from the railing, Arthur stood. Our eyes met, and in his azure depths I saw that impossible knowledge that always stayed two steps ahead of me. It was no longer paternal or charming. Dizzy, I got out of the car and slammed the door. The frenzy was stirring, each breath bringing me closer to mental breakdown.