Mesopotamia - The Redeemer (23 page)

Thales looked skeptically at
Sophia. Sophia looked back at him helplessly. Both of them began
asking questions at once.

“How are we to be sure that you are
not a Gnostic spy?” asked Thales.

“And how are we supposed to trust
you after your initial front was a lie?” pressed Sophia.

“Give me the benefit of the doubt,
at least until you have finished listening to me.” The two were
silent. “Are you prepared to listen to me until the end?”

“Speak! Your time is limited,” said
Sophia. Thales presence at her side had made her bolder.

“Sophia, your father destroyed the
module. The Gnostics wanted to pair the module with Samos' particle
processor in order to destroy the galaxy. Since then, though, the
Gnostics have reestablished the Uruk compound and rebuilt the
module. The module can take the processor, which creates matter,
and turn it into a machine that destroys matter. In a chain
reaction, they can destroy all matter within a range that is more
or less the radius of the Milky Way Galaxy, turning it into pure
energy. It is likely that only single stars on the outskirts of the
galaxy will remain.”

They listened as Enosh continued.
“We on planet Dust have been notified that the module will be ready
within three years’ time. According to the original plan, the
Atheist rulers were supposed to approach Octavia and offer them
military protection. Since you are incapable of and unwilling to
carry out active resistance, the Atheists planned on protecting
you, even against your own will. At the same time, I was sent to
you in an attempt to encourage you to cooperate in defending
yourselves. But this persuasion involves a long and complex
process. In order to initiate it, I created the amnesia as a
starting point—“

“And that was the reason for the
big fraud?” Sophia interjected.

“And that is why you pretended that
you had been struck with amnesia?” said Thales.

“So as to lead me astray from my
Pythagorean faith?” asked Sophia.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Enosh said
quietly. “Had I introduced myself as a Socratic Atheist, I would
not have been able to get past your prejudices against the
unbelieving Atheists. In fact, I would not have been able to get
past my own prejudices against the Pythagorean missionaries.
Unfortunately, I had no choice. You must shake yourself from your
belief in perfection, in immortality. In absolute goodness. This
type of Pythagorean stance will prevent you from even being heard
by the Gnostics. In answer to your question, Thales, no, I was not
pretending.”

“Thales, I do not believe a single
word of it,” she said crossly.

“If so, take me to the simulator.
The simulator does not lie.”

The station workers did not
interfere nor did they remark upon seeing the sullen group pass by,
even when they saw the station master in a rage highly atypical of
a Pythagorean.

Enosh sat in the seat in the center
of the simulator dome. Sophia stood to the side, listening. Thales
explained. “The simulator will pick up on electrical impulses in
your consciousness in order to verify your claim that you are a
Socratic who was sent to us on an official mission, and that you
believe your claims—or it will disprove it.”

“I have nothing to hide. You may
proceed,” said Enosh calmly.

The holographic space filled with
blossoming trees, babbling brooks flowing under small bridges and
clusters of people in colorful clothing sitting around a stone
table. The scent of figs wafted through the air.

“What is that?” asked Thales,
freezing the hologram.

“That is the Socratic Council and I
am among the members, making the decision to save Samos. At the
head of the table is Diotima, the Atheist minister of defense,” he
said.

They listened to the conversation
taking place around the table. Diotima voiced strong opposition to
the corruption of the Atheist government and asked for help. Enosh
described Atar's failure in that he could not separate himself from
his Pythagorean identity. For a long hour, the simulator recounted
Enosh's memories without exposing a single discrepancy.

“You continue to fool us,” Sophia
said irritably.

Enosh was surprised at Sophia and
how easily she had lost her judgment to the point where she could
no longer rely on the simulator.

“It's a pity that I did not listen
to you, Thales. You were right all along in saying that he was
lying.”

But Thales could not refute the
facts. “The simulator shows what this man believes. He is not
consciously lying. And yet, if he indeed knows how to negate his
identity, why couldn't he have implanted false memories into his
mind, or why couldn't others have implanted memories that he
himself believes?”

“Unfortunately, I am not lying.
Thales said this himself. The galaxy faces a genuine threat. The
gap between yourselves and the Gnostics is much too wide to
entertain any hopes for dialogue, and therefore only a drastic
measure on my part could have shaken you from your harmonious
state. The amnesia was that drastic measure. If you will believe me
that I came here out of good will and a desire to help you, you may
be able to accept my explanation. And now, let us call our
attention to the information at hand, by which you can decide
whether to trust me or not.” He continued before they had a chance
to cut him short again. “The processor is in your hands, the
Pythagoreans. The module is in the Gnostics' hands, though it
cannot function without the processor. They simultaneously need you
and hate you. What exists between your cultures is an extension of
the love-hate relationship that existed between Yaldabaoth and
Ishtar, as well as between Orpheus the Pythagorean and Adamas the
Gnostic. Indifference leads nowhere, but hatred may lead to
love.”

She looked straight into his eyes.
He was silent.

“We have finished for now,” she
said coldly and left the simulator feeling cheated. It seemed to
Enosh that Thales was looking at him understandingly, but he shook
himself out of it and hastened to follow her.

The inhabitants of Samos had become
accustomed to the stranger's presence. He felt more comfortable
wandering the curving corridors alone. He was forced to idle away
his time since had little else to do.

He considered the fact that he had
twice passed by the bar on the residential sphere. Previously, he
was reluctant to enter because he did not feel comfortable. This
time, the bar was empty of patrons and the bartender sat in the
gloom.

Without asking, Barman placed two
large glasses on the counter. The glasses were covered in droplets
of frost and were filled with ice-cold golden beer topped with a
layer of foam. Enosh was surprised to see beer served in a
Pythagorean bar, especially because he had indeed been craving one
and received it without even asking.

“How did you know that I wanted a
beer?”

“You don't look Pythagorean to me,
and you looked like you were in need of something to quench your
thirst.”

“Are Pythagoreans allowed to drink
beer?”

“They're allowed, but they don't.
Especially not members of the ascetic government.”

“So I gather that you are not
Pythagorean,” said Enosh, gesturing toward Barman's glass.

“Correct.”

Enosh gulped the beer. “Since you
are not Pythagorean, perhaps you can help me.”

“With what?”

“Perhaps you could help me
understand them.”

Barman rolled his eyes as if he had
just been asked to perform an impossible task.

Enosh smiled. “That bad, huh?”

“Can you understand someone who
does not like beer?”

Enosh laughed. “No, seriously. I
think I screwed up a bit with Sophia.”

“Aha,” said barman knowingly.
“Women!”

“Women? Yes, women. Or, more
precisely, woman,” nodded Enosh.

“Give me back the beer and I'll
give you a double whisky.”

Enosh did not hold back his
laughter. “No, seriously.”

“Totally serious. How can I help
you? And why me specifically?”

“Because you are not Pythagorean,
and it's probable that you have encountered the same cultural
differences that I don't understand.”

“What happened?”

“I did not lie, but I managed to
create an untruthful impression.”

"The Pythagoreans, as intelligent
as they are, their truth is simplistic. They don't distinguish
between truthful facts and sincere intentions." Barman sipped his
beer and continued, "Mathematical accuracy is all that counts. If
you are not accurate you are a liar."

"Why is that?"

"Intentions are like feelings,
these are noises that interfere with rational obedience to the
cosmic order."

"Then they are not that different
from their nemesis".

"I will not quote you on that."

Enosh sensed some relief. “Who are
you?”

“Barman.”

“I know, but really, who are you?
What is your name? How do you know so much about the
Pythagoreans?”

“The metamorphoses of my life have
been too many.”

It was obvious that Barman did not
want to talk about it, and Enosh considered that he had already
exerted too much effort in his other challenges. “Excellent beer.”
He emptied his glass in one gulp and wiped the foam from his mouth
with his hand.

“Have another?”

“Why not.”

They sat embracing in Sophia's
room. His touch felt strange, unfamiliar. It went against the
fundamental Pythagorean principles, but they had already crossed
the point of no return. Thales stroked her hair.

“You know that he is telling the
truth.”

Sophia didn't answer.

“There is no reason not to listen
to him. He came here to help. The galaxy is in danger.”

“Up until a few days ago, you were
the one warning me about Enosh, the Gnostic spy,” she said angrily,
“and now he is the savior of the world?”

“I understand how this may look to
you. It may seem like I underwent a rapid metamorphosis, but that
is only to the outside viewer. In reality, I have been questioning
Octavia's harmonious approach for a while now.”

“Thales, you said Octavia but you
meant Pythagoras.”

“Correct. I have had misgivings
about Pythagoreanism for some time already. Throughout these most
recent events, something that I already sensed became sharper. I
understand now that it's impossible that I can feel the pain of
love, a pain that I cannot deny, while simultaneously continuing to
believe in the ideal of perfect harmony. I believe Enosh.”

She was silent.

“Sophia!”

“Yes, Thales.”

“From the moment I met him, I felt
that he was dangerous, but my feelings were based on the wrong
reasons. I attributed my anxiety to the possibility of him being a
Gnostic spy, but what really scared me was the fear that you would
fall in love with him. I can no longer deny my feelings. The
Pythagorean ethos that discredits emotions is no longer valid for
me. If the danger of war looms over us, I am not willing to
endanger my life without expressing my feelings and fighting. You
know that I love you, Sophia. The irony of it all is that it took a
potential galactic catastrophe and the threat of another man to
wake me. We cannot deny that the danger that brought Enosh here is
real.” Thales brought her attention back to the actual threat.

“Yes, one cannot deceive the
simulator.”

A
s the
chief commander of the Gnostic invasion fleet, the one who would
carry out the redemption of the spirit from the material, Truth
should have felt intoxicated by the enormous amount of power
entrusted to him. Had he been allowed to do as he pleased, he would
never have chosen to command a single person. He was chosen to be
the father of the ship because of his talent. He devoted himself to
his job because of his Gnostic faith, but he felt no joy at the
sight of soldiers abruptly leaping to silent and tense attention
when he passed them in the halls. He felt more comfortable
commanding the strike pilots or even sitting in his single-person
spacecraft.

In contrast to Smoke, he was
relatively old when he joined the Gnosis. Even though he had
already developed his own identity and it had therefore been less
convenient for the Gnostics to try to reshape his mind, his
progress in the Gnostic chain of command had been meteoric. Nergal
recognized the young Mandaean's potential. Nergal had marked him as
the Redeemer because he was the only one out of all the New
Gnostics that had Mandaean roots, a scion of the original
Gnosis.

Truth's family did in fact descend
from the handful of families that upheld the Mandaean tradition in
the land between the rivers—Mesopotamia—for two thousand three
hundred years. The Mandaeans were comprised of a miscellany of
cultures. Jews of the Syrian exile wandered from eastern Syria and
northern Israel in the third century AD and arrived in the city of
Basra in southern Iraq. In what was once ancient Uruk, they
intermarried with the descendants of the Mesopotamians, the local
marsh Arabs. The name Mandaean was given to them by the Christians.
'Mandaean' is Aramaic for 'Those who Know'—or Gnostic in Greek.
They called themselves the Nezarenes.

The marshes kept them isolated; the
conquests of Alexander the Great, Cyrus and Mohammad did not reach
them. Nevertheless, the Mandaeans slowly gave up their cultural
identity under the crushing pressure of Islam in the early
twenty-second century. Quite a few households, including Truth's
family, secretly continued to practice Mandaean rituals. Until the
Great Destruction.

Truth remembered the ceremonial
baptisms in the marshes of the Euphrates delta, the prayers that
were accompanied by Jewish psalms of praise to the holy Jordan
River and the supplications offered to the Master of Light for
redeeming their souls. Like the new Gnostics, Truth's people also
viewed the world as a battle between the aeons of time and space on
the one side, versus Demiurge-Yaldabaoth, the impure creator, on
the other side. In contrast with the New Gnosis, the Mandaeans did
not view the Demiurge creator as a devil that must be obliterated,
but rather as an entity that needed to correct the mistake she had
committed and return to his position with the aeons under the
leadership of the Master of Light.