by Brad Cox
“Look into the pond and tell me what you see,” said the Gray Bird.
Frightened, she saw no reflection.
“Your vibration can no longer produce the image of your soul,” it furthered. Her eyes shuttered. “You are dead, in both life and in death. Open your timid eyes and tell me what your heart can see!”
With hesitation, she faced the pond and watched a homeless English boy walking the streets of London. Turning to reveal himself, the gray bird entered the vision and pecked his virgin skin off. Like a zombie, his remaining flesh hung. Tying the haunting image to an arrowhead, Than shot it into her conscious mind.
Breathing deeply, she awoke and darted to her moonlit mirror. Her forehead was covered in dry blood. Zane fell to her knees and wept.
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Icarus always fell the hardest. Though his might was apparent in the Earthly realm, his physical strength couldn't protect him from wiles of his soul. He hid behind an impenetrable curtain, largely consisting of flesh and muscle. Lurking behind his coarse bravado was a fragile operator, always fearing his stirring mind. After a crushing blow on the football field, one cold and icy Saturday afternoon, sending three young players to the hospital, Icarus was introduced to limitation. He slipped into a brief but impressionable coma.
Staring into utter blackness, he heard tiny voices but saw no one. From the void, two blueish-purple eyes appeared. They stared through his soul and lassoed his focus. Gazing into their soft violet windows, a beautiful baby girl emerged, morphed into adulthood and back again. She frolicked in a field outside of his fire-consumed home. She giggled, while the gray bird danced in the inferno. A black bird rested on her tiny shoulders, singing beautiful melodies; a white bird flew from her innocent mouth; the red bird dashed from cadence of her beating heart. She controlled them like a kite and painted the universe with their subtle movements. She was the animator of reality.
He then saw a second set of harsh red eyes. Staring into voiding pupils, he could see a rioting lynch mob wearing black and tan uniforms. A gray bird led the charge, while a reddish flag violently waved. A possessed crowd hurled obscene gestures toward an abandoned Irish cottage. The door was trampled. The clan picked up two wailing infant babies from a distant crib and carved the words “No Freedom” into their soft foreheads. The children were presented to the motley crew and sacrificed in the name of purity, God and creed.
The gray bird rested upon a distressed widow's shoulder and sang a sad song.
Icarus's pulse briefly went still before he thunderously gasped and snapped to.
He awoke in the hospital.
chapter 12
A sorrowful toast
“I love cold pizza,” said Ash!
The group swarmed the honey of Elisa's poach. They were enamored with gratitude and taken aback by the lush nourishment resting in their dehydrated hands. Not a word was spoken, as they rapaciously consumed and calibrated their weakened bodies with their tired minds. Their souls remained an overflowing silo.
“Before we leave, I'd like to get everyone's contact information. I will create a private website and message board for us to correspond. We have to stay in touch and will need the support of one another,” offered Grayson. “I want to believe this is going to be as smooth and simple as it seems, but I fear it will not be! How can we can fall in love with someone, with the awareness of a motive? It's a juxtaposition -- our first true obstacle. This person we find will need to become greater than the mission. I just don't know how that's going to be possible.”
“I can collect the data in my journal. Does anyone have a pen?” asked Rand.
“Why, you do,” said Simon, magically pulling one from behind Rand's ear.
“You never amaze me!” said Rand.
“Do you mean, 'Never cease to amaze me?'” asked Juno.
“No! I meant what I said,” smirked Rand.
“So, how about that party? I'm sure there's got to be a liquor store, nearby,” bolstered Ash.
Though warm to her flamboyant offering, the fatigued gang knew it was time to part ways and return to the worlds from which they came. One by one they lined up and provided Rand with their personal information, hugged and extended warm handshakes, with locked eyes. Once compiled, the information was copied and given to Grayson.
“We've all come a very long way and had our unique struggles. The dreams were rough, but we finally know why we're here and what we've been called to do! I want to offer a toast,” said Zane. Nervously adjusting a spiked bracelet on her tiny wrist and uncomfortably blowing a piece of purple hair from her worn face, exposing a lingering tear, she raised a perspiring bottle of Evian. “You lunatics are like the family I never had. I'm blessed to have met you!”
Simon patted Rand on the back; Neco reached for Ash's hand; Magnus and Elisa kissed; Zane and Juno pretended to spar, before a long deep hug; Benjamin and Grayson shook hands; and Icarus gave Zane and Juno one last lift toward the blue sky!
Even the clouds appeared to smile back.
“So, I guess that's it?” asked Neco.
The group began the long walk back to their distant cars.
“So, are you heading back to Baltimore?” asked Ash.
“Well, I promised myself I'd head west and slink around the gutters of Hollywood for a couple of months. I may even chase my rock n' roll fantasy. Sky's not even the limit, right?” joked Neco. “My parents have already been alerted that my inner vagabond must roam. Would you like to escort me,” he added, reaching for her relaxed hand.
“I'd...,” said Ash
“That is, if you haven't already booked your long flight back to Scotland,” Neco interrupted, fearing her hanging response. “I should probably warn you, I do not have an actual place to stay and I'm broke!”
“Who said I'm broke?” Ash asked, with a wink.
The howl of a used car lot sent echoes through the canyon. Engines flared and hearts pumped; they each left their dusty signature in the Arizona sands. Neco cleared off the dirty passenger side seat and opened his squeaky door. Ash smoothly slunk into his modest red car. The sun pulsated with energy and the road offered its blessing. They set-off into the welcoming arms of the unknown!
“Let's stop at this bar,” insisted Ash, after traveling a few miles. They polished off a bucket of ponies, ate, decompressed and finally had a moment to size up the holiness of their revived Sunday. “So, are we really tasked with finding true love?” she asked rhetorically, pretending to stab her heart with the restaurant butter knife. “Who finds true love, like ever? True love is this thing Walt Disney cooked up in the studio basement of Magic Kingdom. He sold us all, to make billions. Seriously, it's a farce. I think people can fall, be or stay in love, but true love — that's cosmic.”
“I don't think we're looking for true love, in the 'Epcot is the future of Mother Earth'-sense,” he said, quoting his words with lazy fingers. “I think it's supposed to be the person who makes us want to live — that special someone who gives us hope or a reason. It's the person we entrust our secrets with and can provide us with a foundation to build upon. Then again, maybe it’s just someone we can't live without. Regardless, I think the sentiment has to be shared. I'm not saying it's not hard to find, I'm just saying, it may not be as mysterious as we think. The truth is, no one is going to know, until their child is born.”
“Oh, that would be awkward!” proclaimed Ash. “I'm sorry, I have to go now, and you’re clearly not the one. I have other fish to fry and babies to spawn,” she joked. “It sounds trifling. The Council is officially our pimp!”
They both laughed, paid the tab and headed back onto the open road. The setting sun distanced in the rear view and they reflected.
+++
Zane's farewell toast was too sorrowful for Magnus to stomach. The forgotten lachrymal glands in his hurt eyes gushed. The thought of leaving his beautiful new friend, Elisa, overwhelmed him. His heart and attitude would now be controlled by the longitude between them. He'd never felt so connected, n
or in love; everyone else in his life seemed like collateral damage. She was smart, sassy and beautiful. Her image gave him hope and a reason to believe there was still a chance he'd escape the downtrodden neighborhoods of Chicago. He was willing to change his entire being for a moment of her attention. The mission was suddenly the conductor of his limitations. The fate of his connection to Elisa rested in Grayson's hands.
“It was great to meet you!” Magnus said, playing it uncomfortably cool.
“You too! How else would we have fed our flock?” she smiled, offering a sympathy hug.
A certain part in everyone was left aching.
“The old saying, 'ignorance is bliss,' can take on a whole new meaning when you're faced with this kind of enlightenment. What's left, after you're given a backstage pass to forever?” asked Simon. “I'll probably never see any of you again,” dramatically pausing. “For once, I wish I could actually make myself disappear! Having this child won't bring any of you back, but it may reveal the secrets behind the magic that is life. I'm not sure if we're doing the world any favors with this heavenly punishment.”
“Take care old friend. I hope to never see you again, too!” joked Rand.
The rest of the flock separated.
Rand returned to Germany; Simon to Israel; Juno to Rome; Icarus to Greece; Benjamin to London; Zane to Ireland; Grayson to New York; Elisa to California and Magnus to Illinois.
Neco and Ash were nearing California and ready to dance like hypnotized chickens, to the indie sounds blooming on the Sunset Strip. The layered Technicolor fantasy, blended together with their unforgettable masquerade in the desert made their surrealism peak. They tap-danced across the Mojave Desert and entered Needles, swallowing the gorgeous taste of their new life on tap.
chapter 13
lifers
During an uncomfortably long plane ride to London, Benjamin did his best to sort through his lifetimes and travel anxiety. No shrink, nor priest could absolve his riddled mind. His current troubles paled in comparison. It was like the scales of universal law had tipped, lofting his ill-focused future agenda. He suddenly understood the complex visions he’d been given, their symbolism and the urgency of his adolescent night terrors. In a wintery snow globe's haze, his new memories blended with the old. He could recall the girl in the right Borromean ring, from the dream, but was slow to calculate the lifetimes they'd shared. It was a blur.
He knew they'd talk again — they had to. They had fallen in love during their first Program lifetime and developed a complacent thirst for stable companionship — it was the same trap Neco and Ash were destined to fall, if clarity failed to trump their raging hormones and rebel yells. Dismayed by reason, Ben's social life was a ship long lost at sea. He had no one else. Caution to the wind, he remained content to repeat life's vicious cycle, if it meant drifting toward the forgotten coast of stability. He knew leaving The Program was a permanent commitment to spiritual vacancy. It also meant saying goodbye. Forever.
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The Beyond was not a spiritual gathering, nor a magical place with pearly gates. It implied transcending the physical plane and becoming unaware. It was a dead zone; a place Buddhists refer to as Nirvana. Released souls reenter the vacuum from which all light spawned. It is man's selfless journey, back through the wormholes of time and space, to touch what does not lie before the beginning. In the truest sense, it is peace in the absence of all.
Only faith could blind a man from the mysteries surrounding it. Living forever had its own sting, but ceasing to exist sent human egos into shock. The complexities of this conundrum were easy to understand, but difficult to emotionally navigate. There was also a lingering moral responsibility, to the souls stuck in the underworld, to not take The Program lightly and to produce a Crystalline child. Those who selfishly chose to remain in The Program or who had failed to produce an enlightened baby, for more than 40 lifetimes, were called Lifers. Though love of the physical world can trap even the most brilliant of hearts, Ben wasn't ready to let go!
His blue thoughts were then interrupted by a red rotary Batman telephone.
“Ben. Thanks for answering!” said Grayson. “I wanted to give you a quick call, to tell you our website is up and running. If you want to reach out to anyone or have an update from your side of the pond, let me know. I'll update the group!”
“Good timing, sir! Can I get our purple-haired friend's number?” asked Benjamin.
“Of course! She's actually not too far from you. I've got to jet, but keep me in the loop. Remember, The Council is watching! 10-4?”
“10-4.”
Rehearsing mock greetings in front of his tiny bedroom mirror, Ben hung up the sweaty telephone and paced. He twirled an old Louisville Slugger and mentally traversed the minefield lying in wait. The overwhelming weight of their extensive history rested upon his feeble shoulders. He couldn't afford a misstep. A courtship with his past meant unpacking forgotten baggage and anew. Anxious, he knew there was a very real possibility that their union had reached exhaustion, but hoped she'd reciprocate his timely advance. Nervously looping his trembling index finger through the tight number slots, he dialed.
“Speak to me,” snarled Zane.
“Zane.” He paused. “This is...”
“Who is this?”
“You know, the math nerd from the Painted Desert with the Paul McCartney 'Meet the Beatles' haircut.”
“I knew you'd be calling, darling boy. I think it’s safe to assume you've spoken with our New York City counterpart, Grayson, and have had a wee chance to departmentalize, or at least recall, our lavish, yet irresponsible, dealings?” She paused, steering the conversation. “We were a couple of wild things, weren't we, Ben?”
“We are.” he joked, hoping to generate a pulse. “I'd like to come visit you.”
“I'm not sure the universe will have much to do with it!”
“I know.”
“Nevertheless, there are a couple of great pubs in Dublin. When were you thinking?”
“How about 2 weeks from today?”
“OK, it's a...” Zane caught herself.
“Date?” Ben risked.
“It's not a date!” she joked.
Zane was conflicted about her nostalgic feelings. Her admittedly imperfect family hadn't left her with the same irreconcilable abandonment issues as Ben's — just alcoholism! She welcomed her lush years of emotionally detached sex, dating, and if her fancy was tickled, validating The Program. She knew a clean break with Benjamin would require calculated compassion or a combat boot, on the off chance things went south. She wasn't entirely opposed to the passing idea of making things work, but longed to spear the ocean for a new catch.
To avoid being hounded by the guilt of reconciling their past and faced with an unrequited nostalgic romp, Zane tapped Juno, explained the precarious hand she'd been dealt and offered to purchase her a round trip plane ticket. She was intent to avoid the exclusivity of an awkward situation. Juno accepted Zane’s offer. Her maternal instincts beckoned. There was a certain grace lodged in her swagger that suggested, 'If anyone could talk reason into this hopeless romantic, it's me!'
“I'd love to come! I can teach you how to dance around this,” Juno joked. “Plus, I can tell you all about my new man-friend. He is absolutely gorgeous.”
“Thank you so much! I'm not surprised, you're beautiful. You'll be out of here in no time!”
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Rand lurked, in a town not too far away. His new lease on life brought confusion and fear to his disciplined family. It drew contempt. Suddenly, a solider boy who had never missed a test, bathed in the smuggest of clothes, and only delighted in the substantiated theories of historical facts, was vibrant, uncaring and throwing colors into the air. For once, he was alive and it was killing the status quo. His parents didn't know the scope of his impromptu Rumspringa, but knew something had dramatically changed in his staunch demeanor. They were determined to quash his newly beating heart.
“Are you on drugs?” asked
Mr. Backer. His stern rumble shook the cabinets and family crystal.
“No. I assure you, I am not. I've been awakened. It is too supernatural for my own comprehension. I don't dare your understanding. All I can say is, this facade of a life you've created — this prison,” Rand paused. “It's all an illusion.”
“Your country, your academics — your family is a magic trick?” asked Mr. Backer.
“We live inside heaven's ever-changing kaleidoscope. It’s an untapped universe of possibility. Can't you see it? We're merely mirrors of fractured glass, facing the Eye of Providence. We observe the universe as it observes us. Wouldn't it be prudent to give it something to delight in?” Rand asked, with a twirl.
“I didn't send you to the U.S. to find god. I sent you to seek university!” his father screamed.
“Life is our teacher. It is greater than any uppity professor — a man or woman who justifies their existence with books and degrees and teaches others the value of teaching others to pave a similar road to nowhere, all while knowing that none of this means a god-damned thing. It’s a fraud! Higher education is a sickness, and we all fell for it.” A long cold stare ensued between Rand and his father. His mother remained nervous and idle. “A university of thought lies within each of us,” he continued. “I seek love, friendship and to live my life! I will no longer be bogged down by the societal expectations you've imposed upon yourself or the walls you've built around this family.”
“Get out of my house! Get out!”
“You've lived your entire life, fearing someday you'd awaken unlovable or isolated. One day you'll be alone and forced to reflect on your chastised years! This vicious cycle of your own creation will judge you and hold you painfully accountable.”