Mesopotamia - The Redeemer (22 page)

All of this overflowing abundance
was nestled in the heart of the Socratic academy. Enosh liked to
converse with his students while walking along the paths of the
garden. Sometimes they would stop him to clarify an issue. Here,
outside the walls of the auditorium, was where he felt freer and
more comfortable. In these informal discussions, topics arose that
were unrelated to the material learned in class. The students liked
to discuss their insights regarding the meaning of life and Enosh
would then point out their internal contradictions, challenging
them to respond to different situations.

Not one of those students would
have guessed that at these very moments, their revered teacher was
afraid, very afraid.

“What do you think?” asked Diotima,
sitting beside him on a bench in the garden. The rigid security
guards didn't even bother blending in to the surroundings.

“It really is a complex challenge.
I have a few ideas. Cold beer?” Enosh offered.

“I'd love one.”

Enosh whipped two balloons out of
his bag, giving her one and ripping the corner off the second one
with his teeth.

Diotima began. “Why did Atar
fail?”

“Atar could not pass the blood
challenge because he was unable to break free of his Pythagorean
prejudices. He only had one chance to influence the Gnostics, and
that was by way of influencing Nergal from consciousness to
consciousness during the ceremony itself. Atar failed because he
could not find the key to Nergal's consciousness.”

“And what would the key have
been?”

“The nothingness that he
worshipped. The weakness nestled within him. Atar could not reach
Nergal's weakness.”

“And why did he fail?”

“Because he was Pythagorean.”

“Explain and elaborate.”

“As a Pythagorean, he could not
identify his own weakness, much less the weaknesses of others. He
was stricken with Pythagorean blindness.” Enosh spoke fluently.
Diotima was good at stimulating him, and he reveled in the decoding
of human consciousness.

“And what is that blind spot?”
asked Diotima.

“Perfection.”

“Is there something that could help
free him of his blind spot?”

“Yes: if he ceased to be
Pythagorean.”

“Is there no other way?”

“No Diotima. Pythagoreanism, by
definition, is the belief in perfection. In order to recognize his
own weakness, he had to break loose from his own Pythagoreanism.”
Enosh sipped his beer and awaited the next question.

“And why was he unable to stop
being Pythagorean?” smiled Diotima as she sipped her beer.

Enosh rose and ignored the garden
around him. He concentrated on clarifying his complex train of
thought. “Because he was afraid, justifiably so. Had he given up,
even for a moment, his denial of weakness, he would have never been
able to return to that sense of perfection. He was close, but not
close enough. He did accept the blood challenge and tried with all
his being to release himself from his Pythagorean identity, but he
was unsuccessful.”

“How could losing his Pythagorean
identity have helped?”

“Atar recognized indirectly that
negating his own identity was the solution, but he didn't know how
to go about doing it. As someone who had no identity, he would have
found the juncture at which he could navigate between the
identities and thereby change identities. That is exactly the
Pythagoreans' weak point. They don't have the rift, the weakness,
the disturbance, the willingness to expose themselves, which
enables a person to clothe themselves in the appropriate identity
to deal with a Gnostic.”

“And what is that appropriate
identity?” Diotima prodded.

“A Gnostic identity.”

“Did Nergal want Atar to become
Gnostic? Is that what Nergal was lacking?” pressed Diotima.

“Nergal specifically did not want
Atar to be like him. Nergal needed him to be Gnostic, but only as
an indicator that he was not rejecting the Gnostics. The identity
Atar needed to wear, had he relinquished his Pythagorean identity,
was the identity of one who does not reject the Gnostics.”

“What effect would that have
had?”

“I suppose that Nergal would have
had at least a small crack in his belief.”

“Which is?” asked Diotima.

“We learned from Sin about Nergal's
hatred toward the Pythagoreans. He expressed it to Atar in Uruk.
That hatred indicates pain. This pain stems from the Pythagoreans
desertion, and shows his hidden desire to belong to humanity.” His
thoughts were lucid and structured. “The need to belong stands in
conflict with the Gnostic belief in nullification, casting doubt on
it.”

She recognized the dawning moment
of revelation. “Go on,” she encouraged.

“Atar, with his presence as a
Pythagorean, awakened that doubt. But because he was Pythagorean,
Atar was not equipped with the tools to widen that crack. Nergal
denied that doubt, and hence rejected everyone who brought it up or
represented it. Nergal erroneously thought that he could kill the
doubt by killing the messenger, the doubter. That is how his fate
was sealed. On the other hand, if Atar had not purported to judge
the Gnostic from his lofty position as a Pythagorean, and had
refrained from being judgmental in the first place, it might not
have awakened Nergal's hostility.”

Diotima knew that her brilliant
student would know the answers. She continued the dialogue step by
step to make sure that they were not passing over any stages in
building the logical case. “And how could the progression of the
events have developed had Atar given up his identity?”

Enosh sipped again and thought for
a moment before he replied. “Sin told us that Atar withstood the
blood challenge, that is, he agreed to wear the Gnostic identity.
But that was not sufficient. The question was not what he did,
rather how he did it. Sin told us that Atar responded with disgust,
revulsion and withdrawal, although he tried to hide this. Had he
relinquished his identity, he would not have responded this way,
because he would have been free from the confines of the cultural
perspectives that shaped his tendencies. What's interesting is how
Nergal would have responded if Atar had approached the ceremony
with indifference, curiosity or even enthusiasm.”

“Well, how?” asked Diotima.

“With confusion, surprise and the
feeling that something in his basic assumptions was not right,” he
replied.

“And then?”

“From here the possibilities could
be infinitely divided. Had he shown indifference to the blood
challenge, they might have listened to him. It is still uncertain
if his claims would have been effectively convincing, but at least
they would have been given a forum. If Nergal had listened, it's
possible the dialogue would have led to a widening in the crack in
his Gnostic certainty, a crack that Atar would have seized as an
opportunity to delve within it. Had they listened to him, Atar
would have told Nergal that his anger at the Pythagoreans was in
fact a suppressed desire, and he would have asked about that wish
to belong to humanity.”

“And what would Atar have had to do
in order to shed his Pythagorean identity?”

“He would have needed someone else
who had relinquished his own identity in order to guide him though
the process of relinquishing his identity. If we assume that,
without his identity, Atar would have penetrated Nergal's
consciousness, it stands to reason that another person who had
broken free of his identity would have to penetrate Atar's
consciousness and stimulate this change.”

“And who could be the first to give
up his identity in order to create a chain reaction like that?”
asked Diotima with feigned innocence.

“Me!” exclaimed Enosh
decisively.

“You?” she said as if
astonished.

“Out of all the cultures that
sprouted from Earth, we, the Socratics, are in a key position that
allows us to understand both the Pythagoreans and the Gnostics. The
Socratics are experts in nullification, in the ability to engage in
self-negation, not in the complete sense of Gnostic destruction,
but also not in the sense of abstention from nothingness like the
Pythagoreans. We know how to use the consciousness to nullify our
identities.”

Diotima finished her beer and
clucked her tongue, enjoying the bitter taste. “Thank you for the
beer and for your wise answers, but as far as I can tell, I should
have sent you on this mission when you were ten years old, before I
met you.”

“Thank you for the compliments, but
as far as I can tell, the mission of initializing this chain
reaction of identity shedding has not finished yet. Even if Atar
did not succeed in his mission against Nergal, there is still a
possibility that I shall succeed in our mission against the
Gnostics of our time.”

S
ophia was
flustered. Each development in Enosh's story disturbed her more
than the previous one. She had not yet been able to cope with the
story of her father's plight and she was already required to digest
the fact that Samos, along with the entire galaxy, was in peril due
to the Gnostics' destructive bent. She had to decide whether to
give up her Pythagorean ideal of pacifism or to wait for the
Gnostics like a sitting duck. Or maybe she should not trust the
Socratic man at all! After all, she was the master of the station
and it was her duty to take a stance and make decisions.

“How did you locate Samos?” she
investigated.

“Your father relayed the
information to Sin, who then passed it on to Diotima.”

“But why the amnesia?” she
asked.

“When we discovered the Gnostic
plot, I convinced Diotima that the best way we could help you was
for me to arrive in Samos in a state of amnesia—”

“So you lied to me?” she
interjected.

“I did not belie—“

“Don't pretend!” she cut him off
again. “You knew all along who you were and the nature of your
mission. Thales was right. Perhaps you are not a Gnostic impostor,
but an impostor nonetheless.”

“I did not deceive you,” he tried
to defend himself.

“You deceived me. You knew who I
was and that you were sent in order to deliver my father's letter
to me. Maybe your entire story is just one big fraud.”

“What for?”

“In order to steal the processor
for Filan, so he can use it to print gold.”

“No, no, Sophia. You must believe
me. Everything I am telling you is the truth.”

“It doesn't make sense to me,” she
said, hoping to be convinced that she was mistaken.

“You are correct, it does not make
sense. It is true that my amnesia was intentional, but it was
genuine.”

“What?”

“People forget their identities all
the time. We Socratics learn how to engage in self-induced amnesia
voluntarily.”

“Why?”

“Sit. Here, I'll explain everything
to you.” He looked into her eyes and tried to hold her hand, but
she withdrew it impatiently. “The stronger our identification with
our native culture, the more prejudiced we are when trying to
connect with someone from a different culture. This intercultural
connection could allow me to influence the other person from my
consciousness to their consciousness.”

“You came here in a ploy to
influence us,” she accused.

Enosh did not respond.

“What did you want to influence me
about?” asked Sophia.

“Do you want to be angry or do you
want to listen?”

She was silent for a moment. Enosh
waited patiently.

“I'm listening,” she said
finally.

“My aim was to make you mourn for
your father.”

“Enough!” Sophia wanted to end the
conversation. She struggled to decide what was worse: her grief
over her father, her immense fear of the impending danger or the
sense that Enosh was deceiving her.

“Please, listen to me for just
another moment,” he pleaded.

“I am giving you the chance to
explain yourself,” she said impatiently.

“I do not enjoy seeing you suffer
or making you angry, Sophia. It is a critical process that is
intended to free you from the Pythagorean culture.”

“You cannot tell me to sway from my
faith! What justification do you have? I will not tolerate your
exploitation of my grief over my deceased father as a weapon
against me.”

“The choice is yours, but please,
hear me out to the end!” Anything he said seemed to only exacerbate
her stubbornness.Sophia was silent and Enosh continued. “Your
father failed his test to engage in dialogue with the Gnostics
because he did not pass the blood challenge, the test that would
determine if he had disconnected from his native culture.”

“The blood challenge?” she asked.
Enosh described the basics of the Gnostic ritual as Sin had
explained to him.

“You are lying! Thales, to the
sample room,” she commanded through the audio-visual system.

“Your father trusted Sin. You must
trust me.”

Thales arrived in a flash. Sophia
recounted their exchange and presented him with the letter. He read
it intently while they waited. “The letter is forged,” he stated
finally.

“Hear me out,” said Enosh firmly.
“It was precisely because of his strict Pythagorean devotion that
your father was unable to disconnect from his own identity. I do
not blame him. We the Socratics spend years in order to attain that
level of self-negation. I came here in order to create a specific
kind of dissonance in your Pythagorean identity in order to prepare
you for meeting the Gnostics." Enosh blurted the words quickly
before Sophia would have the chance of interrupting him again. "As
pacifists, your fate is sealed. If you agree, we can cooperate and
save Samos as well as all humanity. I am not dangerous. I am here
to help all of us. You have no reason to be suspicious of me.”