"All right. Okay, I mentioned the prairie, the chanting, the stars, let's see… so I'm standing there, trying to figure out where I was, when I became aware of where I was facing. I felt like one of the stars gave me a sense of direction, but I didn't hear anything."
"I turned to the east and I found myself envisioning a coastal shoreline under the night sky. And as the waves rolled forth, crashed, and drew back, I could hear it speaking through the sound. Not words; more like… ideas or abstracts. From there, it showed me an image of an old cavern wall, with extremely old pictures made with ochre, soot, and charcoal. There were images of hands, animals, people… and all sorts of things I could only partially recognize at times. My view centered on one particular etched figure of a human. Unlike the other human images near him, as he didn't carry a spear and they used chalk to create the person, while the others were more black or red."
"This figure walked away from the others at some point. Later, he's around different colored pictograms of people and animals. There were lines coming from them that he would walk into. It reminded me of the ripples on a still lake. You know, after you skip a rock on the surface?"
"My view then returned to the shore and it told me I was given a gift of the mind. It said not to worry, but it was an early natural process or result of what I was becoming. I then asked it what that meant."
Jessie leaned in. "And??"
Simon made a soft shrug. "Wait and see, it said."
Jessie snorted. "Well, that's a bloody let down."
Simon shook his finger and smiled modestly. "Oh, not at all. It seems the journey of the Drifter is long term. And we have to be patient in seeing it through. Additionally, with the gift that the sea gave me, I was told the Drifting within me had strengthened. It's almost something quantifiable, you see."
Jessie tilted his head. "Meaning?"
"From what I understand, we all had the potential to become Drifters. And I mean that as, before Ramone and I visited the Setting Sun, and before your status became infected from me. Oh. Um, sorry about that, by the way…"
Jessie grunted and sighed. "Wonderful. Remind me; I owe you a punch in the shoulder later. Just continue with what you were saying, before I really take that admission into account."
"Right. So, it turns out I had a limitation removed from me as part of my growth as a Drifter. Something all men and women potentially deal with. It turns out all of humanity has this thing called 'The Curse of Babylon'. I think it's a reference to the Abrahamic Tower of Babylon legend where the people of the world built a massive spire to reach God, only to be cursed with not being able to understand each other."
"I'm passably familiar. What of it?"
"The sea told me about something called the 'One Language of the Seven Tribes'. The Curse of Babylon removed it from men. But as a growing Drifter, I'm not subject to it anymore. At least, not after being recognized by the sea."
"Back up. You're throwing a lot of things at me here. That Seven Tribes term... well, I've never heard of that. It sounds like something special?"
"Yeah. I guess it's one of the marks of being a Drifter. Ramone will learn the One Language when he wakes up, hopefully. And sometime, you will as well, if I've understood the matter correctly."
Jessie squinted as he often did in moments of confusion or suspicion. "So, what does it sound like?"
"You're hearing it right now. It sounds like whatever you'll understand."
"Ehh… so, it's a language you just happen to magically learn, that has no specific tongue to it, which basically anyone will understand?"
"And you'll understand them back," added Simon. "They don't have to speak it themselves. That said, I don't think it works in writing. Just direct verbal communication. Anyway, after all that, I woke up on that cot back there. And here I am."
"Hold on, hold on… I'm sorry, Simon… I want to believe this. Really. But it sounds a bit farfetched, to say nothing that this was a fever dream you had. You're saying that you basically have a universal translator in you now, so long as it involves speaking? I'm going to want to see some proof of that."
"Well, if you don't believe me, ask Rio. Miss Rio's been listening in the entire time. Haven't you, Rio?"
The spooky girl nodded softly and glanced at Jessie.
"Wait, what? Did… did she just acknowledge what you said?" said a rather startled Jessie.
"Miss Rio, my friend Jessie doesn't believe you can understand me. Could you do me a small favor and touch your nose?"
Rio turned fully to Jessie and touched the tip of her little nose with her pointer finger. She then withdrew it and observed Jessie vacantly.
The squash faced young man was speechless for exasperated several moments, only glancing back and forth between Simon and Rio in disbelief. "Son of a bitch…" Without question, he would not have believed it unless he saw it. For Simon did indeed know the One Language.
Once Jessie settled down again, he crossed his arms, and sighed. He was dealing with a lot today. "So, did the ocean tell you that Ramone and I are going to have the same thing happen to us, oh great and mighty Voice? I suppose Ramone is listening to a pow-wow or something?"
"Well, not exactly. It's more something I came to grasp just by going through it. I feel like I understood it before I even had the question in my mind."
"So, something you didn't know that you knew?"
Simon nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. I can't really explain how or why. Well, maybe I'll try anyway… did you ever go to a concert or a small club show and there's this band onstage you never heard of, but you really wind up liking? And everyone else is on the same page of their own free will? When it happens, there's this sense of passion and oneness in the room. You get that feeling of something beyond yourself, something, however small, which made life's bullshit worth wading through, because right then, right there- you were separate and together, all at once. And suddenly, you felt something you couldn't before. The message from the sea and what I got from it… I guess it was like that."
Jessie furrowed his brow and rubbed the back of his neck. "Can't, uh… say I had anything like that happen to me. It sounds pretty good though. So, Ramone and I are fast tracked for this?"
"About as much as anyone else going through the process, I imagine. I can't really compare. Yours might be a little while, since you just started Drifting. Ramone and I got infected around the same time by the Setting Sun. Not sure why I went first. Could be that Ramone can hold it off better. Or maybe that Norbert guy had something to do with it. Also, I'm not so sure you'll be hearing the chanting that I did. I got the feeling that was something more specific to my own experience. The Drifting is a journey of individuals, supposedly. Huh. You know, it's weird how I feel like I know this despite not remembering being told outright."
"Good lord… this is a weird day, Simon," sighed Jessie. "Well, I just hope that whenever that fever dream you had comes to me… it doesn't happen at a risky time. Assuming it can occur back in our world, I might be a sitting duck for the Clayforged."
"I agree," said Simon. "Well, since your place was burned down, you'll be hanging out with one of us in the meanwhile. I know Ramone offered first, but my place is yours too if you ever need a breather from him or just want a different spot. You know we won’t let you down, Jess."
Jessie offered a genuine smile of camaraderie. "Hey, thanks man. I know I'm kind of rough, but I do appreciate it. I really do." Simon smiled and the two clasped their paws in a shake of friendship. They had been through a lot in the past several years, although there was never anything quite as straining as the Drifting itself. But they wouldn't let that get in the way of their group bond. It had not been the first time they were tested as a whole, and it would not would it be the last.
"Cool. So, why don't we talk to- oh come on," Jessie began, and just as soon ended. Glancing at Rio, who was still but a few feet away, she was now asleep on the floor, curled into her frock as she rested her head on her black book. Jessie sulked. He really want
ed to hear her story. Simon chuckled under his breath. He passed Jessie his torn up flannel and together, they covered her with it like a blanket.
"If you're worried about her, don't be," Simon said. "At least, don't think she's out to get us or anything. I can tell you for certain that she doesn't hold that motive."
"You just met her. How in the world do you know that?" grunted Jessie.
"Remember when I said the sea gave me a gift of the mind? Well, I didn't mean just the One Language. From what I gathered, it seems if I focus, I can sense someone's mental state."
"Telepathy? Your dream gave you telepathy?"
"No, no, no…" said Simon, waving his hands, "Nothing like that. I can't read minds. But I can pick up on how someone is feeling. While we were sitting here, I was wondering what she was about, and I recalled what the sea imparted upon me."
"Oh yeah? So, what did you learn?" asked Jessie, somewhere suspicious.
"She doesn't intend us any harm. If anything, she's curious about us. Did you notice when she vocalized 'Voice' in particular? She seems to be hopeful about something relating to Drifters. Following you guys has been a way of fulfilling that. That's about all I got out of it."
"Interesting. Earlier, she tried saying 'Hand', I think. So, what kind of gift does that?" Jessie inquired.
"I believe it’s a form of 'psychic empathy'. Again, it's just a surface reading I'm getting, and that's if I concentrate enough. Using it, I could feel that part in the back of my head heating up. Same place I had the pain earlier, in fact."
"Woah… maybe the pain and nosebleed from earlier is literally changing your brain chemistry," speculated Jessie. "Some kinda PSI… that is to say, a psychic ability. That's really neat."
"Maybe. I'm not sure. I still think the stuff from the morning was simply due to resisting the Drifting on the car ride down Black Mountain. But it did seem like the pain targeted the spot in my head that may be related to it, if just by the feel of things."
"Alright, so tell me this. You've probably been scanning me. What have I been feeling the entire time?" smirked Jessie.
Simon looked uncomfortable. "I almost didn't try. I wondered if that was too invasive. But at the same time, it was like playing with a new toy. So, I apologize for that. As for you… indignance, envy, low key hostility and a need to vent ambient frustrations. You've had a lot of sensations concerning disbelief, suspicion, and maybe to balance it all out; wonder."
Jessie sneered at him and stared pissed. Simon frowned and coughed, looking to the side. "I could tell you now that you're not happy to hear any of that. But, uh, I didn't need to use 'PSI' for that. You'll probably get your own soon enough."
"Meh! What about Ramone?" griped his stumpy friend. Simon was pretty certain there was no way to tell Jessie any of that without getting a disapproving response. Sometimes being quiet was the best policy.
Simon got up and casually walked into the other room, studying Ramone sleeping on the cot from a respectable distance. After a while, he shook his head and turned back. "Nothing. I don't think I can read anyone who isn't awake."
"Well, thank heaven for small miracles, Simon."
Simon frowned and looked away at nothing. He made a mental note to try to avoid using his new gift with Jessie. But in truth, he couldn't imagine how anyone would appreciate it. The Gift of the Sea was just as much a curse. It gave him temptation. Simply reading someone's mood to presumed perfection was very much an advantage. And he could see it was intrusive, even if they weren't aware. If he didn't want to bother anyone by the fact he had such a gift, he would have to keep it secret. Or perhaps even create nonchalant excuses if someone ever called him on his talent for cold reading someone. The more he ruminated about it, the less he liked it. It seemed too easy to be a peerless sociopath, at least if he succumbed to the temptation to use it. And what were the odds he would never abuse it? He was but flesh and impulses as any other person.
Uncomfortably eyeing the rotting floorboards, he estimated how much it might remove some of the wonder and value in life. He would have convenience and guarantees, never making as many mistakes from his own naked judgment. It was a sly devil which offered easy answers at no obvious cost, save for whatever worthwhile things it would quietly take from him, until he no longer realized anything was even gone. And yet, he could not devoid himself of the power either, as far as he knew. Maybe it would be like a tattoo. Noticeable at first and then somewhat casually forgotten.
For sake of that alone, he hoped his friends would not receive such a double edged blade. It was not out of fear that they would read his mental state, but at what cost of life's quality would they suffer? Ramone was not always one to resist temptation and if he were a less scrupulous man, he could certainly read his latest date's mindset like a textbook (although one might say he already could without any supernatural assistance). Surely, it would make him a cruder man, more manipulative and less capable of actually operating under his own charm.
As for Jessie, he was less social than either of them. It would be a great advantage for him to simply know someone by merely observing them. Not that he would use it to length that Ramone would, he imagined, but Jessie would likely use it with greater abundance. Simon could see him cataloguing random people, making notes, and generalizing. Infamously speaking, Jessie was not the kindest individual to strangers. To imagine him with the Gift of the Sea was to see Jessie devolve further into his less than admirable traits. Maybe it wouldn't change him too obviously to a stranger, as he was already mostly standoffish, but it seemed like the kind of thing that someone who knew of him might pick up on.
And that was the gamble, was it not? 'Use this gift with little responsibility and lose a portion of your soul,' the sea should have expressed to him. But it didn't. It was simply a gift and not worded as anything else to Simon. Maybe the sea did not understand the corruptive heart of mankind. Or just as likely, it did not care. He could not quite guess at the notions a massive body of water would have, if he were to attach an anthromorphic persona to it.
To Simon, the whole matter of becoming a Drifter (whatever exactly it meant to be one, at least) was growing increasingly difficult to define, although it was no less worthy of personal introspection. Perhaps that's what Aveirasen and Ullah were implying by 'a journey of individuals'. Separate, but together. One could learn something, if told anecdotally or perhaps read within a book or a screen. But it seems to take a bit more of hands-on experience to truly understand.
He also realized he would be reminded of that phrase again and again at this rate. It really did seem to express the concept well, the young man mused. A journey of individuals…
CHAPTER 21
It was a fine early summer night at the 4H campgrounds. Ramone sat on a log before a campfire as he often did when he needed a breather from the world around him. Of other less noble times, driving Black Beauty down the barren back roads from the local watering hole wasn't always an option, if for sake of inebriation levels he didn't feel comfortable with. Chief Madley's boys were often looking to make quota. And sometimes, his precious chariot was in the shop. It was old and well used. He would swear he put about as much time into that thing simply trying to maintain it, as he did riding it around. But the grounds were still within his ability to walk to from home and it was rare that anyone visited there after hours. Ramone sometimes had more on his mind than Jessie would ever acknowledge or know. Simply thinking things through under the stars was therapeutic.
A little further beyond this spot was Lake Anekagustah, of whose relatively pristine waters twinkled with ripples under the pale light of the moon behind the myriad pine trees. To either side of him, sat Jessie and Simon, each quietly perched on their own logs next to the fire. By his feet, there was a blue cooler, although he couldn't remember who brought it. Inside, amidst cubes of convenience store ice, several chilled cans of Squashed Frog beer were nestled comfortably. It was a weird beer by any standard. Sure, it tasted alright and it was made in the grand Gar
den State itself, but he never understood the appeal of green dyed color for color's sake, even on St. Patrick's Day.
Exactly to whom was this promoted towards, he would wonder. People trying to off their spouses, by switching their green swill with antifreeze? Wayward leprechauns in need of an affordable domestic swill? The demographic was lost on him, no matter how often he debated the topic or looked it up online. It simply existed, unfazed by the norms of reality. Maybe the gimmick was to get people to virally discuss (and thereby promote) the beer, as to whether or not the drink actually contained any frog. It was an idea similar to campers indulging in the theoretical truth of what exactly a pitcher of 'bug juice' was. Regardless, he seemed to recall Jessie shot down that, although the argument's logic was a blur at this point.
As for the taste, it was not unlike a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. Smooth, simple, but not terribly strong. Ramone had no issues with the stuff, but he preferred his drinks more traditional or with some teeth to them.
Either way, the choice for the night might have been Simon's idea. He wasn't particularly a beer connoisseur and he had no issues trying the more oddball drinks. As far as Ramone was concerned, they simply relabeled some surplus domestic drink originally purposed for Saint Patrick's. Not that it explained the horribly ugly name, of course. He was fairly certain that old Saint Pat wasn't known for driving hopping amphibians out of Ireland.
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