by T C Donivan
“Yseslev told us we would help you break the cycle,” I said.
“You’ve seen him?” Spencer asked.
“Annie and I did, when we were separated from you in the city. You know him?”
“Yes, a long time ago.”
“But he is not God?”
“Who can say? I think he’s a traveler like ourselves, but ancient as time.”
“Is there a God?” I asked.
“Give up the quest,” he answered in a commanding voice. “You are the only true architect of your dreams Clayton.”
“If I control this – am I God?”
Spencer laughed. “You think highly of yourself.”
“No, not really. I just wonder what is real and what is the dream? Everything is confusion here.”
“It’s all real and it’s all a dream Clayton. There is no difference. You should be able to see that by now. You and Annie shape one dream, Rachel and I another.”
I knelt beside Annie. She put her head on my shoulder and wept softly in pain. “Can I change what’s happened? Can I save Annie?”
“No, what’s done is done, but you can dream a new life as Rachel and I have, changing it like the weave of a quilt until the outcome is what you need. We wanted to re-experience all the good things we’ve known, children, art, literature, cold nights together in a warm bed. And to undo all the mistakes, to make whole the injuries we’ve caused. But fate is elusive. It slips like mercury through your fingers. A vision of simple clarity can splinter into a million pieces on the turn of a leaf. And make no mistake; we need adversity as well, to color our lives as spice flavors a meal.”
“Do we need murder and misery?” I asked.
“Some do.”
I stared at Elysium. “I feel the maw of eternity beckoning. It frightens me.”
“I think God is there, can’t you feel Him?” Spencer asked.
“I can sense raw power. Isn’t that what Mozart, or whoever he was, called Him – raw energy? I have no sense of the divine.”
“Maybe He’s a sleeping God, or an embryonic God. Maybe by joining Him, He may someday awaken to the plight of the puny citizens of His universe,” Spencer said.
“I’m afraid if we go into it, we’ll lose ourselves forever.”
Spencer stared at the pulsating wall of energy. “I’m afraid too, but we’ve had enough of this life, of all of them. They’ve become pointless.” He squeezed Rachel’s hands and she smiled at him. “I’ll never see you again Clayton, I know that. Whatever I am now, will be absorbed into the consciousness of whatever He is. I want you to know, you’re the best person I’ve ever known, in any life except for my Rachel. Annie, take care of him. I love him.”
I despaired asking the question in light of the transcendence of Spencer and Rachel’s choice, but our survival was still in the balance. “What about us? We’re not ready to become part of God, or whatever that thing is. Not yet.”
“I don’t know what will happen to you Clayton if you stay here, but I know your destiny runs through this place. Open your soul to it.” He and Rachel locked arms. “Goodbye dear friends.”
They went off toward the light. Mordecai barked once then sat down beside Annie and me. We watched as they walked across the meadow. As they neared the wall, they began to glow like fireflies, rays of light cascading out of them like spools of sunlight, their appearance taking on that as one imagines the angels in heaven to be. Elysium burned like a million stars dancing in the void, its brilliance beyond description. Spencer and Annie merged into one shape and disappeared into the wall.
Annie and I wept. The wall droned with the sound of a billion locusts then quieted. Annie had become terribly weak and was near death. I laid her down on the grass. Mordecai curled up beside her. She petted his head.
“I cannot bear to live without you,” I said.
“Nor I, you,” she answered.
“If you die, I’ll follow you,” I promised.
The dog sprang up and ran across the meadow to a stand of juniper that had grown into the shape of an arch. He stood there barking at us. I stared at the trees. As I did, I saw the steeples of the cathedral where we had met Yseslev through the branches.
“Annie, we have to go. I think it’s important.”
“I can’t Clayton, my legs won’t work.”
“We have to try.”
I took her in my arms and carried her across the clearing to where Mordecai waited. Once we were there, the dog raced ahead. As we walked beneath the arch of the trees, the world grew dark and damp as if we had walked into a cave, the light behind us disappearing into shadows. Mordecai barked, his voice echoing off canyon walls. We followed him deeper into the labyrinth. The sense of divinity I had felt in the meadow fell away; in its place was one of mundane familiarity. A dry breeze brushed the skin of my face and I stepped out of the passage into a darkened room. We had returned to the ancient city where Tree Owl had led us days or perhaps a millennium ago.
“Annie, we’re back!” I cried out.
“Clayton, put me down,” she said. I knelt and gingerly released her.
No blood stained her buckskins. The color had returned to her cheeks. She stood up and we embraced, tears of happiness bathing each other’s faces. Mordecai stood yapping at the door of the chamber where Mozart had performed his arcane spell that had sent us into the underworld. We looked around. The room was empty. Not even the remains of the fire were evident. We raced outside. It was night. We made our way carefully through the ruins. At the base of the cliffs, we found our horses waiting, but no sign of any other living being. Elijah nuzzled me. I stroked his smelly nose gratefully.
“Where are they? Where did Mozart and Sosanna go? There’s no evidence that any of them ever existed, not even a hoof print,” I said.
“You and I are alive and that’s all that matters,” Annie said.
“We could have gone with Spencer and Rachel, but I was afraid.”
“We weren’t ready, either of us,” she said.
“If we had, do you think we would have seen God?” I asked.
Annie plucked a yellow wildflower that had sprung up between Elijah’s hooves and held it in her hand.
“I think we see Him in every living thing.”
“There is no present or future, only the past, happening over and over again, now.” Eugene O’Neill
“To the place where the streams flow, there they flow again.” Ecclesiastes 1:7