He laughed.
‘You might be right,’ he smiled. ‘It might be the best part of you. But you can’t know, unless you submit yourself to rectification.’
‘Submit?’
‘Submit.’
‘See, when the language strays into cult territory, Idriss, the unrectified part of me yanks me outta there.’
‘Let me put it this way,’ Idriss said, leaning back in his chair. ‘Suppose you know someone, know him fairly well, and suppose there are some likeable things about him, but suppose this person is just a taker, and never a giver. Are you with me, so far?’
‘Yes.’
‘Very well. Suppose this person is ruthless with those not close to him, and never hesitates to ride on the success, talent, or money of others, but never works himself, and never puts anything back into the loop. Are you with me so far?’
‘I met this guy,’ I said, smiling. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, in that case it’s your duty, as a more rectified person, to speak to him, and attempt to moderate his damaging behaviour. But that can only work, if the other man submits himself to your counsel. If he is too proud, or too unrectified, you cannot perform your duty with him, and you must perform it with a more receptive person instead.’
‘Okay. I get it. But, Idriss, I wouldn’t call that submission. I’d call that meeting me halfway.’
‘And you’re right, it’s both of those things. It’s also common ground, and agreement, and a free discourse, but none of those things are possible without a measure of submission from everyone involved. Civilisation is submission, in a good cause. Humility is the doorway to submission, and submission is the doorway to rectification. Are we clear?’
‘I’m . . . with you, so far, Idriss.’
‘Thank the Divine,’ he sighed, relaxing and letting his hands fall into his lap. ‘You have no idea how many people make me go through that, again and again, with example after example, just to shove their fucking pride or prejudice out of the way for a fucking minute.’
It was the first time I’d heard him swear. He saw the glimmer in my eye.
‘I have to swear, and talk crazy, and shout, now and then,’ he said, ‘or I’d go out of my fucking mind.’
‘I see . . . ’
‘I don’t know how the Tantrics do it. All that physical penance, sacrifice and performing strenuous rituals, every day, for the whole of their lives. We teachers have it easy, compared to that. But we still go nuts, once in a while, under the sheer weight of being so fucking nice to everybody. Light the damn chillum, please. Where were we?’
‘Khaderbhai’s errors,’ I said, lighting the chillum for him.
He puffed for a while, found the stream, and floated his eyes into mine.
‘Tell me what you know about the movement toward complexity,’ he said, staring fixedly at me.
‘Khaderbhai said that if you take a snapshot picture of the universe, every billion years, all the way back to the Big Bang, we can see that the universe is always getting more complex. And that phenomenon, the continuous movement toward complexity, from the Big Bang to now, is the irreducibly defining characteristic of the universe as a whole. So, if this movement toward complexity defines the entire history of the universe –’
‘– then it’s a pretty good candidate as a reference point, for a definition of Good and Evil that is objective, and also universally acceptable,’ Idriss finished for me. ‘Anything that tends toward complexity is Good. Anything that tends against complexity is Evil.’
‘And the quick moral test,’ I added, ‘is to ask yourself the question: If everybody in the world did this thing I’m doing, or thinking of doing, would it help us get to more complexity, or hold us back?’
‘Excellent,’ Idriss said, smiling and blowing smoke through his teeth. ‘You’re a good student. Let me ask a question. What is complexity?’
‘Excuse me, sir.’
‘Idriss. My name is Idriss.’
‘Idriss, can I ask a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘Is the concept of Good and Evil really necessary?’
‘Of course.’
‘Okay. Well, what do you say to people who argue that Good and Evil are culturally defined, arbitrary constructs?’
‘I have a simple answer,’ he said, puffing contentedly. ‘I tell them to fuck off.’
‘That’s your answer?’
‘Certainly. I ask you, would you appoint someone who doesn’t believe there’s any such thing as Good and Evil as a babysitter to your child, or your aged grandfather?’
‘With all due respect, Idriss,’ I laughed, ‘that’s an appeal to cultural bias, and not an answer. Are Good and Evil arbitrary, or not?’
He leaned in closer to me.
‘Because we have a destiny, which is undeniable, our journey is a moral journey. Understanding what is Good, and what is Evil, and the differences between them, is a required step for us to assume our role as guardians of our own destiny. We are a young species, and assuming our destiny is a big step. We only became self-aware yesterday.’
‘I’m not completely getting it,’ I said, looking up from my notes. ‘Thinking of things in terms of Good and Evil is required, at this stage in our spiritual evolution, is that it?’
‘If there were no Good or Evil in the world,’ he said, leaning back again, ‘why would we have laws? And what are laws, but our fumbling, and constantly evolving attempt to establish what is Evil, if not what is Good?’
‘I’m still not understanding it,’ I said. ‘I hope you’ll be patient with me, but from what you’ve said, we could just as easily substitute some other words, like right and wrong, or positive and negative, for Good and Evil. And we might be better off, if we did.’
‘Oh, I see,’ he said, leaning in closer. ‘You mean the semantics of it. I thought you were talking about the cultural architecture of Good and Evil.’
‘Ah . . . no.’
‘Very well, on that level, the terms Good and Evil are required, because they are connected to the Divine.’
‘And what if people don’t believe in the Divine?’
‘I tell them to fuck off. I can’t waste my time with atheists. They don’t have an intellectual elbow to lean on.’
‘They don’t?’
‘Of course, not. The fact that light has both physical and metaphysical characteristics means that it is nonsense to refuse the metaphysical. And an absence of doubt is an intellectual flaw. Ask any scientist, or holy man. Doubt is the agnostics’ parachute. That’s why agnostics have a softer landing than atheists, when the Divine speaks to them.’
‘The Divine speaks?’
‘Every day, to everyone, through the soul.’
‘O . . . kay,’ I said, more confused than when I’d asked the question. ‘Maybe I’ll put that one in the later file. I’m sorry for the intrusion.’
‘Stop apologising. I asked you to define complexity.’
‘Well, Khaderbhai never let me pin him down on that. I asked him, a few times, but he always slipped away.’
‘What are your thoughts?’
My thoughts? I wanted to be with Karla. I wanted to know that she was safe. And if I had to be on the mountain, I wanted to listen to the teacher, rather than talk. But I’d learned, after three days of discussion, that there was no escape from the fortress of his mind.
I took a sip of water, put the glass back on the table beside us carefully, and threw my hat in the psychic ring.
‘At first, I started thinking of complexity as being about complicated things. The more complicated things are, the more complexity. A brain is more complex than a tree, and a tree is more complex than a stone, and a stone is more complex than space. Like that. But . . . ’
‘But?’
‘But the more I think about complexity, the longer I stay wi
th two things. Life, and will.’
‘How did you get there?’
‘I thought about a much more evolved and advanced alien species, travelling through space. I asked myself what they might be looking for. Wherever there’s life, I think they’d be very interested. Wherever there’s fully evolved will, I think they’d be fascinated.’
‘That’s pretty good,’ Idriss said. ‘I’m going to enjoy telling you more about this. Make me another chillum. Hey, Silvano!’
The holy man’s constant companion, Silvano, crossed the white-stone space to join us.
‘Ji?’
‘Keep everyone away, for a while, please. And eat some food. You skipped lunch, again. What’s that, man? Next, you’ll be shaving your head. Don’t be holier than the fucking holy man, okay?’
‘Ji,’ Silvano laughed, backing away, and catching my eye.
Since I’d returned to the mountain, Silvano had been an almost constant companion. He was always ready to help, and always good-humoured.
The fierce scowl was only and ever the fruit of his protective love for Idriss. In every other hour of morning or evening he was a kind, happy soul, in a place that was home.
‘Complexity,’ Idriss began again, when Silvano left, ‘is the measure of sophistication in the expression of the set of positive characteristics.’
‘Can you run that by me again, please?’
‘A thing is complex, to the degree that it expresses the set of positive characteristics,’ he replied.
‘The positive characteristics?’
‘The set of positive characteristics includes Life, Consciousness, Freedom, Affinity, Creativity, Fairness and many others.’
‘Where does this set of positive characteristics come from? Who made the list?’
‘They are universally recognised, and would be recognised by your more evolved and advanced alien species, I am sure. If you look at their opposites, you’ll see why they are positive characteristics – Death, Unconsciousness, Slavery, Enmity, Destruction, and Iniquity. You do see what I am saying, don’t you? These positive characteristics are universal.’
‘Okay, if we accept the set of positive characteristics, how do we measure it? Who gets to measure it? How do we decide what’s more positive, and less positive, Idriss?’
A black cat came to stand near us, arching its back.
Hello, Midnight. How did you get here?
The cat jumped into my lap, tested or punished my patience with claws, and sat down to sleep.
‘There are two ways of looking at us,’ Idriss said, glancing out at the trees, throbbing with birds. ‘One says that we are just a cosmic accident, a fluke, and the lucky survivors of the real masters of the earth, the dinosaurs, after the fall of the Jurassic. That view says we’re all alone, because a fluke like this is unlikely anywhere else. And that we live in a universe that has us, and billions of planets with nothing more than microbes, meek little methanogens, archaea and bacteria, inheriting alkaline seas.’
A dragonfly buzzed around him for a while. He coaxed it with an extended hand, muttering to himself. He pointed his finger at the forest, and the dragonfly flew away.
‘The other view,’ Idriss said, turning to me again, ‘says that we’re everywhere, in every galaxy, and here in this galaxy, in our solar system, about two-thirds of the way out from all the action at the Milky Way’s hub, we’re the lucky ones, where evolution happened to achieve it locally. Which explanation is more plausible, do you think?’
What did I think? I dragged myself back to the bridge of ideas.
‘My money’s on the latter. If it happened here, it’s likely to be somewhere else, as well.’
‘Precisely. It’s likely that we’re not alone. And if the universe produces us, and creatures like us, when the soup is cooked just right, then the set of positive characteristics becomes tremendously significant.’
‘For us?’
‘For us, and in themselves.’
‘Are we talking about essential and contingent distinctions?’
He laughed.
‘Where did you study?’ he asked, looking me over, as if for the first time.
‘Here, at the moment.’
‘Good,’ he smiled. ‘Good. There is no distinction between the two. Everything is contingent, and essential, at the same time.’
‘I don’t follow you, I’m sorry.’
‘Let’s take a short cut,’ he said, leaning in close again, ‘because I’m dispensing with the Socratic-Freudian-question-with-a-question-bullshit. Khaderbhai loved that, may he be at peace, but I prefer to get it off my chest, and argue it out afterwards. Is that okay with you?’
‘Ah . . . yes. Sure. Please, go ahead.’
‘Very well, here it is. I believe that every atom in existence has a set of characteristics, given to it by light at the instant of the Big Bang. Among those characteristics is the set of positive characteristics. Everything that exists, in the form of atoms, has the set of positive characteristics.’
‘Everything?’
‘Why do you say such a doubtful thing?’
‘Doubtful, or doubting, Idriss?’
He leaned forward in his chair, and reached for the chillum.
‘Do you doubt yourself, as well?’
Did I? Of course, I did. I’d fallen: I was one of the fallen.
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘At the moment, because I’m not paying for something I did.’
‘And that troubles you?’
‘Very much. I only made a down payment so far. I’ll have to pay the rest sooner or later, one way or another, and probably with interest.’
‘Maybe you’re already paying for it now, and you don’t know it.’
He was smiling, and sending gentle calm toward me.
‘Maybe I am,’ I said. ‘But not enough, I think.’
‘Fascinating,’ he said, holding out the chillum for me to light. ‘How do you get on with your father?’
‘I love my stepfather. He’s kind, and brilliant. He’s one of the finest human beings I’ve ever known. I’ve betrayed him, with my life. I’ve betrayed his integrity with what I’ve become.’
I didn’t know why I’d said it, or how the words had spilled from an urn of shame. I’d closed a steel door on the hurt I’d caused that fine man. Some things we do to others kneel so long in our hearts that bone becomes stone: a scarecrow in a chapel.
‘Sorry, Idriss. I got emotional.’
‘Excellent,’ Idriss said softly. ‘Have a smoke.’
He passed me the chillum. I smoked, and settled down.
‘Okay,’ Idriss said, leaning back and tucking his feet under his calves, ‘let’s wrap this up before some nice, sweet fellow comes along, with some girlfriend problem that I have to listen to. What’s the matter with these young people? Don’t they know it’s supposed to be problematic? Are you ready?’
‘Please,’ I said, not ready at all, ‘go ahead.’
‘The set of positive characteristics is in every particle of matter in existence, expressed at its own level of complexity, and the more complex the arrangement of the matter, the more complex the manifestation of the set of positive characteristics. Are you with me so far?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Very well. At our human level of complexity, two remarkable things happen. First, we have non-evolutionary knowledge. Second, we have the capacity to override our animal nature, and behave like the unique human-animals that we are. Do you see?’
‘Master!’ Silvano said, rushing into the space. ‘Can I take Lin with me, for a minute? Please!’
Idriss laughed happily.
‘Of course, Silvano, of course. Go with him, Lin. We’ll have more talks, later.’
‘As you say, Idriss. I’ll go through my notes, and be prepared
when we talk again.’
Silvano rushed through the mesa, and onto the gentler path leading from the mountain.
‘Hurry!’ he called, sprinting ahead.
He branched off onto a side path, climbing very steeply to a break in the trees. There was a knoll, with a view toward the setting sun. Breathless, puffing hard, we stood side by side and stared at the view.
‘Look!’ Silvano said, pointing at a place near the centre of the horizon.
There was a building: a church, it seemed, with a spire.
‘We have not missed it.’
As the red shimmer of the sun began to set, rays of light struck the ornament at the top of the church spire.
From our vantage, I couldn’t see what the ornament was, a cross, or a cross within a circle, but the light radiating from the spire for a few moments was a field of coloured light, bathing all the homes and buildings in the valley.
It vanished in evening’s haze, as the sun slept.
‘Brilliant,’ I said. ‘When did you find this?’
‘Yesterday,’ he grinned, heading back to the camp, and his protected sage. ‘I was dying to show it to you. I don’t know how long it will last. Maybe another day or two, before the glory is gone.’
Chapter Forty-Three
When we rejoined the group on the mesa I saw Stuart Vinson, with Rannveig, talking to Idriss in the same chairs where I’d been sitting. What was it Idriss had said? Some nice, sweet fellow comes along, with some girlfriend problem that I have to listen to.
I left them alone with him, and did some chores in the kitchen. I was washing dishes when Vinson and Rannveig joined me. Rannveig picked up a tea towel, and began drying the dishes. Candles in mounds like wax models of the mountain lit the space with yellow light. Vinson watched us from the doorway. Rannveig turned ice-blue eyes on him. He jumped forward, and began putting the dry dishes away.
‘You know,’ I said to the girl, ‘there’s an alternative to Rannveig, like the runway at the airport, in English. You can also be Rannveig, as in catwalk runway.’
‘I prefer airports,’ she said sternly. ‘But thank you for your thought. I have seen Karla.’
The Mountain Shadow Page 51