Man from Atlantis

by Patrick Duffy

  Taking the first garment that looked like it would fit; he draped it over his shoulders. The cloth washed against his body and, at the same time, seemed to float just off the surface of his skin. Even when he held perfectly still, the cloth moved slightly as if responding to the gentlest of currents in perfect rhythm with the fabrics still on the wall. Closing the garment with the small metal clasp attached to the shoulder, he made his way out. Seeing that the way to the right ended at about twenty feet into a wall, he wondered why the passage would offer a direction that led to a dead end. Cautiously, he made his way down the opposite passageway to the opening he saw in the distance.

  The floor was the same substance that made up the walls. It was soft under his feet and gave just a little with each footfall. It did not escape Mark’s attention that there was no seam where the wall met the floor, the ceiling, or the walls. It was as though the entire building had been carved from a single piece of soft tissue.

  It was not a long corridor he stepped into, and it emptied after about twenty paces into an area that Mark could see was occupied—as he caught a glimpse of someone or something crossing in front of him. Not sensing immediate danger, but not knowing what to expect, he carefully made his way to the opening. Keeping close to the wall, he approached the doorway. This time he let his senses heighten and his heart rate jumped to almost double. He was stepping into somewhere that offered only questions, but no other direction was possible now that he had made his choice. Looking down, he saw the floor change to a surface of fine, almost white sand. The light coming from the outside was much brighter, and the backlighting effect it had from his position in the darker corridor made it difficult to see what was out there. He took a small breath, straightened up, and stepped out. His little hallway opened into a vast city!

  From where he stood, he saw two and three story buildings covering most of the valley floor. Some joined to one another as apartments would on the surface; while others of various sizes were free standing Walls surrounded some, and others opened directly to the streets and pathways. The colors that comprised the walls and roofs were different shades of the most beautiful-greens and light-blues, soft pinkish-browns and blue-grays. Each color blended almost imperceptibly into the other. Here and there was a sharp orange or yellow, but all in combinations that he could only describe as peaceful. No caves or overhangs where the roofs met the walls and no arbitrary straight lines and corners. Each one was unique but complimented those around it. There were no panes of glass in the windows, and every surface of every building appeared new and fresh like a youthful skin. All this time he realized he was also listening to a constant sound. Water noises were everywhere. The gurgling of tumbling water and the wispy spray that water makes when it flows smoothly and quickly. He could even detect that deep sound that great bodies of water make when they glide like a large river or like currents in the sea.

  He saw the source of all these water sounds. Everywhere he looked, there were channels and streams. Waterways of endless varieties laced together all the areas of the city. Some ran under the walkways, and some paths would turn into bridges that spanned the wider streams. Long unsupported viaducts carried the water sounds overhead, across roads, and over buildings and released their contents on the other side into shimmering waterfalls to be collected in large and small pools and then directed onward. He traced the walkways and paths of various sizes laid out in irregular fashion across the entire valley floor. Across every walkable surface there was warm and dustless sand. Except this was not the sand of the ocean floor where he had stood outside in the water a few moments ago. This white sand was dry and covered a more solid version of the substance that made up the walls. Then there was the light. The entire ceiling of the Dome and, to a lesser degree, even the walls of the buildings were emitting light. It was of a phosphorescent quality. It appeared to have a definite source but was distributed throughout all the structures and illuminated the entire city. That’s what it was. It was a city!

  It was then that Mark realized what else was here. He had been so focused on the spectacular shapes and beauty of all the structures that it had taken him a moment to register that there were people! Hundreds of them! Men, women of different ages, and children. All dressed in variations of the garment he had on. He stared at the vision. There before him was an entire civilization. Moving and flowing in and out of the buildings and up and down the various walkways and roads in a gentle current of color and grace.

  He started to move, feeling that he was not in any real danger, and he stepped out into the city street. The feeling was similar to passing through the wall into the Dome. He was being drawn forward. The control he was used to having at his disposal was fading. In its place, his heart rate increased again, and the reports from his sight and smell and hearing intensified. It felt like his movements slowed slightly as everything else grew a little in size and pressed in on him. He was moving in the direction of a group of people who were gathered in a large open area about fifty yards ahead of him. Each person he passed, he looked at closely. They appeared much the same as he. Some made eye contact, some simply ignored him and continued on. The smell was there. Not the specific smell but the general sameness was all around him. He only now noticed it, and it no longer seemed a dangerous thing. He also knew that the man he had followed was not near as that specific trail faded from the time he left the entry room. He knew this smell…this feeling, and it comforted him.

  The buildings had no regular style, consistent shape or method of construction as far as Mark could tell. Each was unique but all blended together in perfect harmony. Like the corridor he had just left, the edges where smooth and rounded; each surface seemed to melt into the next. What was it about these shapes? That one. That building there. He could not force himself to look away. The doorway into the structure held him in place like cement. In an instant, it was gone, blocked by a face and a pair of eyes—a pair of eyes that locked on him.

  Although he kept walking, Mark held the stare and turned slightly as he continued.

  Who…?

  Another building! The shapes! That one! The one on the right with large window openings! Mark felt a little dizzy.

  An older couple stopped in front of him and stared. He slowed his pace again and returned their gaze. They both smiled, but the man’s look was stronger. The kind eyes asked a silent question, and the woman slipped her arm around the man’s and started to direct him away. Mark felt he should know these people. As he passed, a bit unsteady on his feet, he heard the man whisper, “Ja-Lil?”

  Mark tried to walk on, but his legs were unwilling to obey any longer, and he stopped as he heard the echo of “Ja-Lil” return to his ears from behind. Then several more “Ja-Lils” from different parts of the crowd.

  Those buildings!

  Those shapes!

  Suddenly in front of him was the face of a much older man. His eyes were kind, and he had a small smile on his lips. The thinning white hair and skin creased around the eyes and mouth. The sloping shoulders and slender fingers that now touched the face. That face!

  Mark knew that face! Now his ears could hear nothing but “Ja-Lil, Ja-Lil, Ja-Lil” from all around. The kind old face was gone.

  Where?

  Many new faces came towards him from all directions. The shapes, the buildings, and the faces were all moving and spinning in front of his eyes. The water plopped and chortled all around him. Mark tried to walk away, to get somewhere and clear his mind. His body was not obeying his thoughts, and his thoughts seemed not to obey his desires. He had to get away! He had to find a place to be alone and think inside this! He wanted the water around him. He wanted to feel the silence of its weight. His blood was racing in torrents through his body. He felt the sand hit the back of his head.

  It did not hurt when he fell. Looking up at the glow of the Dome made him feel somehow peaceful. Faces started to block out the light. People were bending down over him. The
y started to move in a circle above him, although they remained exactly where they were. The spinning feeling intensified. “Ja-Lil”, “Ja-Lil.” More faces blocked the light. Now it was almost dark. He felt strangely safe and still strong and wanted to rise up. More faces. “Ja-Lil.” Dark shapes drew even closer. The spinning was going to throw him out of the city, out of the Dome. It was so dark now. He wanted to stay, to get up. His fists dug into the sand. It was totally dark now. Black. “Ja-Lil”, “Ja-Lil.”

  Then nothing.

  “Ja-Lil.”

  “Ja-Lil.”

  From the nothing came the sound and the sound kept calling until it summoned the light. Light. A small speck of light and…

  “Ja-Lil.”

  Mark was falling again, completely out of control, out of this ball of blackness. Down this black tunnel toward that growing dot of light. The tunnel grew wider and brightened, and the dot became the whole. There was light everywhere. A gray shape was in the center of the everywhere and getting larger. Then it stopped growing.

  “Ja-Lil?”

  The shape became a face. The face became a person. A woman. It was the woman he had seen in his mind that last night on the deck by the pool. He knew this woman!

  “Ja-Lil, are you all right?”

  Mark stared up at the beautiful face. That face! Framed by gold. White ribbons bound some of the hair, and the rest of the deep golden curls swept down past the ears to gather at the neck. Her skin was smooth and lightly tan-colored. The blue eyes had golden rays, sparkling out from large black centers and her lips, that held a small upturn at each end, were a light rose-color. Mark stared a moment longer. The memory was there again. He had seen that face and felt the ends of that beautiful hair touch his. He had felt the warm rush of her breath long ago. Her lips parted again, and once more the warm sound of her voice called to his past. It came up from its dark airless corner and into the light.

  “Mother.”

  “Yes, son. Are you all right?” It felt like he had been cold for so long and with a few words the cold was over. Her voice wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He now knew two Marks. One had never left this place. The other Mark had missed her so much. Never thought he would see her again. Forgot her. He was home!

  “I believe so. Yes.”

  Myo-O placed her hand on her son’s shoulder, and that kept him from trying to sit up. Her touch called even more old friends into the day. He had been held, carried, and cared for by that touch. She placed her hands on his chest, then his ribs on both sides. Her fingers moved to his neck and cupped his head behind both ears. Her eyes were almost closed, and her touch warmed his skin. She opened her eyes and looked into his. Finally, she bent to him and pressed her cheek against his cheek and then to his forehead. Once again, she looked at him. She started to speak, but then stopped. Her smile took the place of words. The small moment lingered. Then, putting one hand on his, she rose.

  “Rest a while longer, my son. There is someone else here to greet you.” Mark felt the warmth of her hip move away. He almost called her back. He felt like a young child who wanted to be picked up and carried away, but he knew she would never leave him. She stepped away and, behind her, he saw another person standing in the doorway. As this new figure came into focus, his memory opened another door, locked for so many years. She was a young woman. She stood a bit shyly with her weight slightly on one foot. Her hands were in constant motion as they fidgeted with the long sleeves of the aqua and green dress draped over her body. The garment appeared to have a hundred layers and yet to be no thicker than one layer of fine silk. With every shift she made from one foot to the other, the gown moved and flowed like the most delicate feather-like fins of the most beautiful exotic fish. Banks of dark brown hair, almost black, surrounded her face. Thick and heavy, it fell to the neck of the dress like a dramatic seashore, a place where both waves and rocks meet and vie to be the most stunning.

  The strong cheekbones were flushed with pink, which only made the lightness of her skin more striking. Wide and set like crushed gemstones beneath the long dark lashes, were the most gorgeous eyes he had ever known. He stared into those dark eyes, remembering every moment that they had known each other. Their childhood days in the city and out in the sea. Growing closer than friends as they matured into young adults. Their eventual understanding that they were never going to part and realizing the bond of love that fated them forever. He remembered those eyes closing so gently as his followed, and their lips touching for that first kiss. He found that he had no voice to say her name. He wanted to and tried several times, but his words went no farther than his heart. All he could do was reach his hand out to her without taking his eyes off her. It was enough. She immediately came to him, the dress pressed against her, outlining her beautiful form, and flowing behind her in a tropical wake with every move she made. The memory and the immediate became one. In the space of a heartbeat, he saw everything he had known so well. Her arms that had held him lifted as she came forward. The fine muscle of her body carried her in power and grace more like she was flying. Then she was there. He could feel the weight of her on his chest, her arms around his as though she was trying to keep him from floating off somewhere. He looked at the beautiful hair now, spilling over her shoulders. Everywhere he touched her, his skin rang with joy at the homecoming. From under the warm wrap of her arms and hands, he gently freed one arm and touched her face.

  “Tei-La.” The name came from the depths of his life. With that one word, he wanted to tell her that he was hers. He wanted her to know how he had missed her. Even when he remembered nothing of this world, it was her he had missed. It was her he wanted to return to. It was her he loved. With both of his hands, he gently brought her face to his and, once again, he was falling into those eyes and onto those lips. How long the moment lasted, he did not know. Its duration meant nothing—for it was everything. It was forever.

  “Ja-Lil.” His mother’s voice softly parted their lives. “Stay in here for awhile longer, until you are sure of your completeness.” She smiled at Mark and Tei-La as they looked to her. He felt, in her warm gaze, more than a welcome or simply a mother’s care. He felt a relief or a letting go. But as he was about to say something she gently turned and left the room. Tei-La’s eyes found him once more, and she slowly lifted her head and carefully studied him. He could not leave her eyes and only felt the softness of her hand as it started to trace the contours of his face. Then another thing he had missed so much.

  “Welcome home, Ja-Lil.”

  Her voice had not changed at all. Its richness washed through him and cleared away the last blurred corner of his vision. She studied him silently.

  “You have been away long.”

  Long! Now he knew what she saw. He instantly viewed himself through her eyes. What she saw was a man—not a young man. Not the man who had left this beautiful woman but a different man. A man who had been gone…long.

  People on the surface, he realized, aged faster.

  “I was found on a shoreline after a storm. I had no memory or past to give the ones who cared for me. Their care and kindness protected me all this time until I could find my way here.” He wanted to explain everything to her right now, but the violence that led him home had to be explained to himself before anyone else could know of it. Somewhere in the city was a man who wanted him dead and would try again. He must, for the time being, keep his secret. “I returned to the sea for my strength, but I lived with them on the surface. What you see is from my time there.”

  He had seen it a few times in the Domed city when he had been younger. Once he and Tei-La, holding hands, watched as the citizens of the city had a celebration for the return of an old man who was being taken to the sea because his life span was about to end. A younger man, who was to transfer his life-thought to the Tanta, was taking him out. Later, his father explained to them that the old man was actually the younger man’s son. Mark remembered
how they had both laughed. In fact, he smiled now as he pictured the two of them fighting to control their giggling, almost succeeding and then falling over each other as they remembered the young man carrying the little white-haired man to the outflow. Then the giggles stopped—not because of a reprimand but with the explanation. Realization had a sobering effect. The most profound thing becoming clear filled them with appreciation.

  “It is simple enough,” his father had said. And it was.

  “You become one with your home, wherever that is. Ro-Hal’s son left the city long ago. He lived on the surface until he felt his life had raced to its ending. He returned because he wanted his life-thought to reside with his father’s line.”

  Mark’s father could always make anything easy to understand. Mark had never once hesitated to bring any question or problem to him. Nor had anyone in the city. The king had time for the simple or complex and always left the questioner feeling proud for having asked. His father let him attend access times when, according to ancient city traditions, their home became the citizens’ chamber. During that time, hundreds could come to ask for healing or guidance or to ask the king to confer assurance for their marriages. In fact, it was at a later access time when he and Te-La stood in the long line and eventually asked him to confer his blessing upon them. After that, as with all couples in the city, their official courtship began.