Mesopotamia - The Redeemer (29 page)

Barman was lying in bed and Thales
sat down on a chair opposite him.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“You mustn't tell a soul about
this.”

Thales divulged everything to him:
Enosh's mission, his realization that he did not want to ignore his
feelings anymore and his love affair with Sophia. He told him about
the Gnostics on their way, about how Enosh and Sophia were
preparing to influence their consciousness, how Sophia had decided
not to tell any of the staff on Samos and how he had decided to
fight. Barman's face grew grave and the muscles of his jaw twitched
tensely.

“If you can contribute in any way,
now is the time to do it.”

Barman remained silent. The images,
sounds and smells of war that had been engraved in his soul emerged
and rose up. He struggled to digest the deluge of new
information.

Some dormant, almost forgotten
thing awoke within him. The pain of the past was as sharp as ever.
He did not have the strength to go back and reopen his wounds.

“I cannot help you,” he heard
himself say as he cast his eyes downward.

“Why not? Don't you understand the
gravity of the situation?” Thales raised his voice. “You once said
that the absence of a chance to win is not necessarily a reason not
to avoid a just war.”

Barman shot him a piercing glance
and said, “I can't help you, Thales.”

Thales rose without a word and
stormed out of the room.

“G
et up.
We're going to train.”

In the hours that had passed since
Thales visited his room, Barman made the decision. These were the
hardest hours of his life. He had to deal with the trauma of his
past and confront his own questions about the nature and meaning of
life. He could no longer deny that there was nothing to gain by
inaction. The news that he had heard shot new blood through his
veins. During the time that barman was deliberating, Thales
succumbed to his exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep on his bed.
So it took a few seconds for Thales to realize that barman had
changed his mind. He leaped out of bed.

“When?”

“Now! Where can we train
quietly?”

“On the scouts' platform.”

“Let's go!”

Thales saw galaxies and sparkling
stars through the transparent dome encasing the scouts' platform.
He looked at the dome as he lay on his back with one leg stretched
to the point of pain over Barman's shoulder, who stood above him,
while Barman's foot rested on Thales' neck. He did not understand
how that happened. He heard Barman telling him, “Come, attack me,”
and a moment later found himself on his back.

“How did you do that?” He managed
to choke out the words.

“Let's do it again, more slowly
this time.”

Barman slowly demonstrated each of
the moves. “Now try to escape.”

Thales could not do it. Every
movement he tried to make with his hands or his free leg only
exacerbated the pain in his neck.

“Now let's switch.”

After three or four times, first
slowly and then increasingly faster, Thales succeeded in throwing
Barman off in one swift motion.

“Another twenty times and it'll
begin to look like it's supposed to look. You learn quickly.”

“Who are you, Barman?”

“We still have to do a few more
exercises.”

“Who are you?”

“Do you want to train or do you
want to investigate?”

They continued practicing until
both of them lay panting and sweating on the platform.

Thales had brought two bottles of
water. He raised his eyes to barman. “You want to know how to
fight, but have you considered how to do it? Do you have a plan for
the invasion?” asked Barman. Thales looked at him and shook his
head.

“What is the purpose of your
fighting? Are there courses of action? Alternative plans?”

“I admit that I did not manage to
delve very deeply into the issue. I just knew that I had to do
something,” he confessed.

“I see,” he said sympathetically.
“We will devote some time to that later on.”

“This very well may be the last
week of our lives, as well as the entire galaxy,” said Thales.

Barman was silent.

“You may take your secret, your
identity, with you to the grave.”

Barman gave him a dirty look but
remained silent.

Thales began to pound on Barman,
who was laying down. Barman deflected the blows. As Thales knocked
the wind out of him, Barman jumped up and grabbed Thales; his grip
did not cause him pain but restricted him from making any
movement.

“You can hold me for as long as you
like. I will continue to pester you. Who are you, Barman?”

Barman released him and stretched
out once more on the cool floor, raising his gaze to the stars.

“You see the stars on the right, at
the bottom? The ones arranged in an equilateral triangle?”

“Yes.”

“Go eight fingers up from that in a
straight line. You see a bright star there with a fainter star
underneath it?”

Thales stretched his hands out
above him and measured the distances. “Yes, I see it. The faint
star is the Earth's sun.”

Barman was silent.

“You're from Earth?”

Barman was silent.

“You fought on Earth.”

“My name was Pasha,” he said in a
broken voice and his face contorted in pain.

“You're Pasha, Pasha Zaman?” Thales
asked in awe.

“You heard of me?”

“Of course!”

In fact, Pasha's name appeared in
the databases of Octavia; Thales, unlike the majority of the
residents of Octavia, thoroughly researched the wars of Earth.

“I thought that Pasha died,” added
Thales.

“Yes, Pasha died.” Barman's face
became impassive once more.

Pasha had been a hero who dared to
fight against the Gnosis and after some time had become
unstoppable. He was the son of simple, hardworking farmers in Ur,
working as a servant in Nicomachus' house who was living on Earth
at the time. Nicomachus realized that the child had been gifted
with exceptional mathematical talent. When Nicomachus the
Pythagorean approached Pasha's parents and offered to take the boy
to Octavia so he could study with the Pythagoreans, they could not
refuse. What an opportunity it was for the young boy to leave the
rotting planet, achieve his potential and to escape the dangers of
the Earth's wars!

Despite the eight-year-old Pasha's
opposition to the idea of leaving his family, his parents decided
the matter. But when he reached his sixteenth birthday, following a
stellar career at the Pythagorean academy, he decided to return to
Ur and his parents of his own volition.

The transition from the isolated
paradise of the Pythagoreans to the wars and hardships of Earth was
a difficult one. After a few long months, he finally became
accustomed to life on Earth and joined a local mathematics academy.
One day, upon returning home following a week of work and study at
the academy, he discovered that his parents and two sisters had
been killed in a Gnostic raid.

His impressive personality, sharp
intellect and commitment to self-motivated goals lent him an air of
charismatic leadership. After losing his family, he became
determined never to surrender. He had the courage of one who has
nothing to lose. Pasha quickly assembled around him a core group of
refugees whose purpose was to fight the Gnostics to the very end.
This was the beginning of the popular resistance against the
Gnostics. The group he led grew as its operations became
increasingly daring. They carried out ambushes, raiding small
groups of Gnostics and indiscriminately killing them. They stole
their weapons in loud diversion operations. Pasha became a sort of
legend with volunteers itching to join his forces in every village.
He posed a significant nuisance to the Gnosis.

Due to the Gnostics' infinitely
more powerful forces, they concentrated their efforts on trying to
crush the resistance. They captured and tortured anyone who knew
anything about him, followed his trail and killed most of his men
while those remaining, including Pasha, dispersed throughout
Mesopotamia concealed under the cloak of anonymity in order to
disappear. Pasha was caught in a difficult crisis—he was exhausted
and ceased to believe in his ability to affect change. The painful
scenes he witnessed gave him no respite; he was tormented by the
sight of limbless children and dismembered bodies as his nostrils
frequently filled with the smoke of the ruins.

He returned to Ur, married, had two
children and went on with his life as one of the many workers of
the field. His conscience tortured him for inspiring false hope in
his followers and eventually leading them to their deaths in his
pretense of defeating the Gnostics. He felt as if he should have
been buried alongside them.

When Ur fell under the Gnostic
threat yet again, most of the residents opposed taking action. What
was the point in committing suicide? After all, they already knew
how it would end. Every city or village whose inhabitants tried to
rise up against the Gnostics was decimated by them. Yet some of the
villagers decided to fight, appointing Pasha as their leader. He
came out of anonymity. Once again, he led the battle with courage
and resourcefulness. The Gnostics suffered heavy losses and were
repeatedly forced to rely on reinforcements. The people of Ur
fought valiantly and with determination, prepared to die while
protecting their homes under their leadership of their revered
commander.

The Gnostics retaliated by bombing
the walls of Ur's ancient quarter until they succeeded in breaching
it. Despite the heavy casualties suffered by the Gnostics, a
handful of them managed to infiltrate the city and open its gates
from the inside. The fighters of Ur continued to fight fiercely and
the courage they exhibited became a symbol, but Ur did not stand a
chance. In retribution for the capture and torture of Gnostic
soldiers, the elite Gnostic unit raided Ur. At the end of a blood
soaked day, women and children were slaughtered along with the
warriors. The body of their leader, Pasha Zaman, however, was never
found. It was assumed that he had been buried beneath the rubble
and was understood to be dead.

“So how is it that you are alive?”
asked Thales.

Pasha finished the story. “As the
story has it, I was indeed buried beneath the rubble, but
unfortunately I survived. I had no reason for living but at the
same time I could not relinquish my life. After digging my way out,
I buried my wife and children.”

Thales felt a lump in his throat.
Pasha continued to speak with detachment and indifference. “I had
had enough of battles and mourning. I wanted nothing more to do
with war. I had lost, I had lost everything. I could not stand to
see any more death and I wished for my own death.” A faint tremor
crept into his voice.

“Hope confused me. There was no way
I could resist it...” He stopped and breathed heavily. He had not
spoken about this period of his life for years. “I had seen the
darkest depths of the human soul and I wanted to flee. And so I
wandered. For seven years, I made my way through the galaxy. I made
a living by doing odd jobs and I did not settle in any place.
Finally, I decided to return to Octavia. Forgive me, but I did not
delude myself into thinking that the truth was in Octavia.”

“You have no need to apologize. I
now agree with your sentiments.”

“I desperately tried to convince
myself to believe in your simple faith, but my past and my memories
would not permit me to do so. I compromised by assuming a life of
illusions. The Pythagoreans are nice and generous people, and
everyday life with them allowed me to repress the images and cries
that I will never forget. Only a few of them, including Nicomachus,
who requested that Sophia take me to Samos, knew that the refugee
that came from Earth was none other than Pasha Zaman.”

Thales was silent for some time. He
identified with the deep-seated pain of his friend. He was awed by
the fact that the legendary Pasha, who was treating him like a
friend, revealed himself to him and was teaching him martial arts.
Even though he had none of his own experience in the area, he
understood the terror of war: his stomach turned and a cold sweat
trickled down his back. He reassessed the issues, recomposed
himself and returned to the idea that was burning inside him.

“Pasha, a war with the Gnostics is
not futile.”

“I know. I told you, Thales, there
is no honor in war, especially when you already know the outcome,
but you do have a choice. Having a choice lends you power, a sense
of determination in your own destiny. If I have been sentenced to
death, I prefer to protect my home and not be led to my own
slaughter. Samos is my home and my family and I will fight
alongside you with all my might.”

Thales looked at him. He always
exhibited a sense of self confidence, but now he radiated authority
and a sense of responsibility.

“And now, for the next exercise:
the surprise choke-hold from behind,” said Pasha decisively as his
tone of speech changed.

According to plan, Enosh and Sophia
devoted all of their time to discussions in preparation for the
Gnostic encounter. Enosh paced about the room, deep in explanations
of the essence of the Gnostic faith. “The modern-day Gnosis is a
spiritual refuge that imbues meaning in those who have been hurt.
The Gnostics, who themselves are lost refugees from prior wars,
recruit orphan children whose worlds have been shattered. These
children, who were left alone in the rubble of the ruined cities or
in refugee camps, taught themselves to have no expectations, no
desires and no disappointments. Because desire is stronger than the
conscious mind trying to override it, there was no decrease in
their desire to find security, interpersonal relationships and love
in their lives; in fact, it worked against itself. They trained
themselves to desire with all of their power not do desire. Since
desire is stronger than any consciousness, overriding even the
conscious' desire not to desire, the only way to eradicate desire
is to be without any awareness, that is to say, not to exist. This
is the source of the basic tenet of the Gnostic faith in
nullification.”