Shootik

by Aleksya Sokol

  “What have I done wrong, Father…?” The question was superfluous. A knew it the moment he posed it, aware of the fact that he had been doing the wrong all the time…Since that historic date when…“The same thing as I have done, son,” Father’s answer cut the completion of this silent sentence…“and which I passed on to you through my inability…or, shall I say, reluctance to deal with its consequences.” A saw the Old Man in his mind’s eye now, as clearly as he had seen him over there…in that other place, realising at the same time that he was here, wherever this might be, in the company of two strangers, whose intentions seemed more than dubious to him.

  One thing was certain however: the game was over. These words continued echoing inside him, and the best way out, if there was a way out, was to stop pretending. Certainly, he really did not know exactly what had happened to him, nor could he figure out how he had come to this place. His loss of memory of the time between the events was real. But he certainly knew who he was…so to speak. And they knew it too…he suspected.

  He made an effort to move his body, but it did not obey at all. Horrified, had they drugged him? He knew the situation was serious. Trying to sound calm, he asked:

  “Where am I?”

  “In security, Dr Mathews…or, shall we say Mister A, or…Aaron Smith…or Ivan…”

  “Stop!” The patient shouted, interrupting further mentioning of names which only few of his associates knew. There was no doubt about the vantage position of these two fellows and no way of denying these identities. A was uncovered. At last! These two words came out of the blue and surprised him. Who the hell had uttered them? He tried to concentrate upon the present moment, accepting it as it was. Since they know all this, what was the point of denying it?

  “Please tell me what happened to me.”

  “Well, let’s say that you had a…collapse, or a nervous breakdown, if that sounds better to you,” the white-coated answered, fixing him with a straight gaze.

  “Aha…and where was I when this happened?” Unable to move his body, his head was all that he had, so it felt, and it responded to his efforts to search for his memory.

  “At home. In your bedroom.”

  “And you, who are you?” A was desperate now, in that head of his. “How come that I’m here? Who called you?”

  "Please be calm, Dr Mathews, we shall stick to this name, if this is okay for you, there is no need to lose your temper, all will be clarified soon, I can assure you. If you cooperate…"

  “Cooperate with what? What do you want from me?”

  It was clear that they wanted something from him; otherwise, he would not be kept prisoner. Yes that was it! Okay, A decided to cooperate, but first he needed to know:

  “How long since my…breakdown?”

  The white-coated glanced at the clipboard, turned the page, and yet another, before answering him:

  “It’s been…three days. To be exact, three days and twenty-seven minutes.”

  Heavens…! And what happened in this time? Okay, A had no choice,

  “What do you want from me?”

  “The formula.” It was the dark-eyed who spoke.

  “The formula? Which formula…?”

  “You know which one.” Two pairs of ice-cold eyes were fixed on him. The situation was worse than he thought. Not that formula! As though they read his mind:

  “Yes, Dr Mathews, exactly that formula.”

  The formula! If they knew what it costs to get at what they wanted…and that it is useless anyway, because it cannot work in their hands. Because it is not a formula like one in physics…It is just a sound, but it’s inaudible for those who…A felt a malicious pleasure at almost wanting to tell them this disappointing fact. They thought he had the formula. They thought the formula was a power to be grasped.

  A felt in his element again. With a sorrowful smile, he said:

  “If you know so much, you must also know that I haven’t got it.”

  “If you haven’t got it, then you will get it. For us.”

  “Who are you people?”

  “Let’s say we are in the same business. Just across the road…”

  Both smiled back at him. Of course. For the next moment A was back in the timelessness of the Old Man’s, his father’s study, hearing him saying:

  “I wanted knowledge more than anything in the world…I was infected with this desire. There was a way to get at it. A safe way, but it would take time. I went the quicker way, and I fell. What is more, I wanted it for myself. Power at any cost. The cost was life. Power in exchange for life. I got it, oh yes! I forced all doors. Got at the secrets…But then…”

  A suddenly knew, recalling their interaction: his father had lost his soul, breaking contact with it…Or was it the soul which broke it? Rejected, the soul could take no more. Souls are immortal, but they can retreat, withdraw as it were, until it is time to regain their places in people’s awareness of themselves. The son remembered, all of a sudden, what Father had revealed to him. Calling him son…he touched a secret button and it opened a door. An entrance into the past. Their past…It had been waiting for them. To be retrieved at last.

  “Souls never give up trying to be re-joined…” the Old Man was saying, "they send out messages, which one ignores; they even write words…on blank pages! The Old Man held the aubergine cover open. Look," he said, "this appeared today, just before we met.

  ‘The time is now…Affairs are now soul size, the enterprise is exploration into God. Where are you making for?’

  A fragment from a poem, ‘A Sleep of Prisoners’, by Christopher Fry, the Old Man knew by heart.

  “I had to call you, Son. Wake up and feel!” He almost shouted. That was the call he heard, oh yes, which almost tore his chest open. An operation without narcosis, although there was no pain to go with it.

  “Well, Dr Mathews…?” the dark-eyed shouted, bringing him back abruptly. He was pretty close to his head now, almost threatening to swallow it, A felt. To incorporate its contents?

  “Shall we release you from your uncomfortable position?”

  He meant, his inability to move his body. They certainly had the power to do this, both ways. They were in control of his body, but not of his mind. It worked far ahead of their thinking now.

  “I am not Dr Mathews, as you, gentlemen…" A* paused deliberately,”very well know."* He glanced with a mocking smile at both of them.

  “And, eh…unless I am able to find out who I really am…I can’t get at the information you so much desire. The code to get at the formula,” he added with a sigh, “is closely connected with my real identity…which escapes me at the moment.”

  There was a knock at the door, and the nurse came in, holding a padded envelope.

  “This was delivered for Dr Mathews,” she said, “with the instruction that it was to be handed to him immediately.”

  She stood there, hesitant, as if waiting for permission to deliver the post. The white-coated made a half step forward, stretching his left arm towards it. At the same time A impulsively moved his right arm to receive it. I can move! It struck him like an electric current from head to toe, that he was in charge of his body movements again.

  The nurse was now between the two outstretched arms, not knowing what to do.

  “I’ll take it,” said the white-coated decidedly.

  “I’m instructed to hand it only to Mr…I mean, Dr Mathews personally, sir,” she said, “the postman was very strict about this.”

  A’s arm reached forward, followed by a smile at the nurse.

  “It’s all right,” he said, “I can take it!”

  She looked apologetically at the white-coated, handing A the envelope.

  "Of course," the doctor agreed, suppressing his irritation.

  “Maybe Dr Mathews will share with us the contents of his…gift?”

  The word gift was spoken with an ambiguous meaning and the two men were now facing A, who was holding the still closed envelope. Believing that he knew what was insi
de it, he showed no intention of disclosing it. Instead, he moved his body out of bed, putting his feet firmly on the floor.

  “I guess our conversation is over, gentlemen,” he said in a casual way. “If you excuse me, I have to leave you for now. We’ll certainly meet again,” he added, “since we are in eh…the same business, as you said.”

  Tenth Picture

  The journey on the raft was a daring adventure…Staretz remembered, as though it was only yesterday, when he, a young man of not even eighteen, broke out of his family and his tribe. The elders, his teachers at the time, were of course right when they warned the youngsters not to come too close to the river. It was dangerous indeed and could cost them their life, they said.

  Though she was only a girl, educated in the tradition of the tribe, Solveig was different. She also felt herself attracted by the coursing waters of the river. And she admired her boyfriend very much. Therefore, she joined him.

  Staretz had wanted to know everything about the river, where it came from, where it led to. In fact, he wanted to know everything about life. And he went to extremes for it, except living life…As a consequence of this great error, he lost contact with his female companion and now he was sentenced to be a witness to other humans doing, or trying to do, the same…

  “The journey on the raft was the next stage on our way,” he recalled. “That, however, was a threat to the people’s established existence. For this reason, the elders of the tribe were of course right when they warned us that coming close to the running water of the river was life-threatening.”

  Though she was a girl, Solveig was different, since she too felt attracted by the running stream.

  Chapter 11

  The Code…

  When A came back to his apartment, he noticed that his place had been visited. No wonder, it was to be expected that he would be caught sooner or later. And unmasked. Big Brother never sleeps, they say, and he had quite a few Little Brothers to keep him busy. Some of them would like to be a bit bigger…and some got so far, of course. The game has been played over and over again, and nobody wins, really, although for some time somebody gets a hold on the steering wheel. Didn’t he know?

  All of them would be after him now, to get at the secret code, or formula, as they called it. They could not get it, no matter how they tried. A smiled bitterly. If they only knew how much was needed to even touch that field. And then, how little was to be gained! The code was just the outside of the actual secret. And even to get so far, to touch the outside, one had to invest one’s own inside, to give it away as it were, into the hands of someone who pulled the strings, who aimed at the big deal. Like his respected father, who made him into a puppet? And now this other fellowship of thieves, wanting to get at it in the easy way!

  Something was waking up in A’s consciousness. He sat on the edge of his king-size bed, from which a couple of nights earlier he had been snatched by those smart guys from the same business. It was clear that his housekeeper must have been involved. They must have drugged him with her help before transporting him to their quarters, and how they did it was yet to be discovered. Although, it hardly mattered now. He had been on their list for a long time for sure. So, sooner came before later, and that was it. His people would have found him in the end and rescued him, of course, as there had never been any doubt that they would.

  The line being still uninterrupted – he touched a spot on the inside of his left elbow. The chip was safely there. He was a prisoner in the same way that he had held others prisoner…He realised, with growing awareness now, what he had been ordered to do. More than that: programmed to do. There was no real difference between him who imprisoned others and himself, being imprisoned. One thing, however, he suddenly knew better. The more power one seeks and collects, craving all that it seems to offer, and in fact promises, the more one becomes unable to live.

  And yet…to be seduced by that call, and to follow it straight into the desert where it leads…until you almost die…But you don’t think that you’re on the verge of death. It happens quite naturally. You are still busy, very busy, and it chases you forward, preventing you from stopping. You are both the pursuer and the pursued…the hunter and the hunted. You cannot order yourself to…halt! So easy, to stop. But you can’t. The programme in somebody else’s hands has taken possession of you. You are its slave. You have given your soul or innermost self to it, and herewith, also your capacity to live. Your life, unlived, is a heavy burden. A felt this heaviness now.

  “But life won’t let you go, so that you can put yourself in a grave, and it won’t even do you the favour of punishing you!”

  A laughed, recalling these words, which the Old Man cried out to him at the end of their last encounter in his library. Whatever powers you may call upon, the whole pantheon of gods, in all their imaginable forms. You carry them all inside you. You would see all of them, if stopped, could stop, bring yourself to a standstill. They tell you that you can’t kill life. Be aware of it, right now.

  “Punishment for what you’ve done?” The Old Man was addressing A’s awareness of what he had done. “That would be easy. To burn in hell, as they say. Who would profit from this? You are released. Can’t you see?”

  And this is more difficult to face, A thought, standing up. He went to the window and opened it. Fresh air rushed in, it felt almost like a caress. You know it now, he said to himself.

  This knowing calls you to responsibly act on its behalf. The spell is broken. Now you can turn your world around.

  A felt uncomfortably comfortable somehow, whilst the words came by themselves into his mind: Now, on this point and not a step further, stand still. And see how everything fits and connects itself with every single thing. As above, so below…Nothing was ever lost. Unhappy-happy, as strange as this could be, this was his state now. All differences were losing their individual meanings and merging into one. All pairs of opposites were no longer conflicting. As long as he kept his position in the middle of them, knowing that he was there.

  To know oneself, was that not the supreme assignment? When light and darkness were divided, according to the myth, the split became space. Living space, for humanity to evolve. Light and darkness could be re-united after that, only through human effort and the individual will to do so. The human’s being was a battlefield on which those powers met. In love, and in combat. The price for evolution is a high one. In the beginning, as the myth reads, was the word. A word of a supreme power. It was a verb, hence its potency. To love. Not understanding this, humans made love into a substantive. Even more, a substance, a kind of state, feeling, bliss or suffering. Love each other as oneself? Which self…that which is undivided. The secret lies in this self. Every human carries it. The life force which makes him grow. How does a tree make its leaves and fruit grow? And how does the human being do what he does?

  How to create and make a living organism grow? Where is this secret? That is what they had been chasing. So far in vain.

  Touching his left arm, A searched for the point where it had been inserted. That minute device which had never been turned off since it had been installed more than thirty years ago.

  It made all his doings totally transparent to those who controlled them. Switching it off or at least interrupting the connection would create a major upheaval in the unofficial main office, as it was called. So be it, A decided, knowing that he had nothing to lose. Only to regain, if gods would help him…To regain his humanity, he added. His physical life might be in danger if they discovered what was happening, but then, so what…?

  Slowly, he started moving his fingers on the inside of his left elbow, pressing where only he knew, and murmuring words and mathematical figures which he knew by heart. It took some time until the subtle throbbing under his touch stopped. He was off-line. Now may it happen! What needed to happen. He was unplugged. And he was on his way of no return.

  Quite a distance from A’s place and his deed at that moment, Jurij, in his apartment at the clinic, was reme
mbering Gabriel’s words, spoken so long ago, when he was still a young man. A young lad, seized by his dreams, or urges.

  “The way of no return. The way of humanity.”

  Now, more than twenty years later, and here in this clinic, or health recovery centre, as they preferred to call the establishment where he had been voluntarily admitted on doctor’s advice, A’s doctor of course, he was asking himself how to get out of here, now that he was ready to leave. The introspection to which he had submitted himself consistently was now finished, although, he pondered, when would it be really finished? How many sides were still there to be looked at? How many truths, equally valid?

  “Your truth,” Gabriel’s voice echoed again in his mind, "is the one you are likely to hear first. It’s as hard as steel and slippery as well." In his mind’s eye Jurij could see the old man’s sun-burned smiling face. It was a figure he would never forget. A bastion figure of his youth. It was Gabriel who taught him the basic rules of life, as he called them. He could hardly made sense of them at the time. Although he listened to them, taking in their subtle content through the sound of Gabriel’s voice, his intonation and the pauses separating the sentences. In the course of the time spent at this health-recovering centre, all that Gabriel had said emerged from the depths where it had stayed stored…For many years, he counted. Yes, he was ready to leave this place. To claim the rest of his life!

  Or maybe…

  Maybe it needed to be a completely new start for a new life? But how to get out of here in the first place? Officially, he was not allowed to leave unless the doctors discharged him. His papers were in their hands. More than ever, he was caught in the web. In their web.