The SONG of SHIVA (25 page)

“That’s what I was doing.”

“Doesn’t it stir your questioning imagination ― just a little?”

“Not really.”

“Oh but it
will
. Here’s something that may stimulate your curiosity. For some years now Innovac has been running demographic survey scans, searching for optimal individual genome segments, utilizing worldwide blood drives. Blood banks were happy to provide us with samples from tens of millions of donors, which we analyzed against a matrix of desirable traits. All we had to do was claim it was for viral research and Innovac’s reputation did the rest. Your genome, by the way, is simply exquisite.”

“Remind me never to give blood again. But for the ‘winners’ this was more of a reverse lottery, wasn’t it? All the earlier guinea pigs ended up dead, if I’m not mistaken. Look where it landed me.”

Lyköan had dropped any pretence of hiding his two forays into the Innovac labyrinth. The yíb was an open book. But giving it up had gained him only enough freedom to pace his cell.

“We didn’t set out to kill anyone. In pursuit of the interests of science, however, casualties are not uncommon. Someone with a more open mind might consider your current circumstances extremely fortunate. In any case, your unique DNA was optimal for our work. It required far less alteration at the molecular level to produce exactly what we needed. In fact, we used much of it intact, a template by which to craft ourselves.”

“Which explains the creepy similarities in all you people.”

“Precisely.”

“But how were you able to pull it off? Hide all the mistakes you made early on ― all the
subjects
who were dying?”

“Apparently random incidents spread across the whole wide world. How could anyone link them ― if they weren’t looking? And why would they
look
?”

Why are you telling me all this?
Possible reasons were few and not very encouraging, all variations on the two exits Pandavas had already mentioned.

“You said something earlier, when I first came out of the fog ― something about how, if this alteration caused other undesirable side-effects, like ― just for the sake of argument now ―
insanity
? ― that I would soon be learning all about it firsthand. What’d you mean by that?”

Instead of answering the question, Pandavas posed one of his own. “Ever contemplate the nature of the universe, Lyköan?”

“All the time,” Lyköan answered sardonically. “But I don’t lose sleep over it. And it’s sort of hard right now ― thinking about anything metaphysical ― being the prisoner of a messianic lunatic and all.”

Pandavas’s lip curled into a borderline smile. “Remember earlier when we were talking about you winning the genetic sweepstakes? It was something we learned quite early in our research.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“That the so called ‘garbage’ in DNA – the seemingly useless hundreds of millions of gross pairings of adenine and the rest ― that seem to serve absolutely no genetic purpose? When we exposed them to certain Fibonacci and fractal progressions and retrogressions ― well, it became obvious that we were uncovering nothing less than the notations of the designer ― startlingly obvious and nothing that we would ever have anticipated – the maker’s virtual palimpsest. The complete treatise of existence. Are you familiar with the
Anthropic Coincidences
?”

“Some kind of argument for the existence of God, isn’t it?” Let Pandavas blather.

“More of an argument for the existence of the universe. Simply put ― perhaps
too
simply ― the coincidences start with the formation of the atomic structure of matter ― where even the most
infinitesimal
variance in the weight or size of the nuclear proton, neutron or electron and one of two results occur ― either hydrogen never forms at all or the universe that results consists
only
of hydrogen ― no other element can exist. That in turn would make the nuclear triple alpha formation of helium impossible ― leaving the universe bereft of stars. It takes yet another coincidentally exquisite collision, requiring infinite precision, to create carbon ― and onward down the periodic table. Without carbon there can be no biologic life as we know it. No carbon equals no life equals no man to question the inherent riddles of the coincidences.

“Awareness of this faultless progression of unlikely occurrences can shake even the most hardened atheist’s belief in a universe built solely upon random chance. The relationship of proton to neutron to electron is known as ‘symmetry’ and it’s this mathematical hierarchical structure that, since its discovery, has pointed physicists towards new knowledge and understanding ― in effect tells them where to look.

“All of a sudden, in ‘deep time’ as the physicists say, far down that progressive chain of elegant permutations, DNA suddenly appears. It’s there in the sequence of events, but how? And even more telling and compelling ―
why
?”

Pandavas was waxing poetic. Or simply running out of oxygen?

“Most obviously and naturally, by the time DNA appears ― and more so as it evolves forward in time ― it will contain the complete history of all terrestrial biology. Something like a computer hard drive, the entire record of anthropic existence is integrated in the narrative. But even more than that ― pursuing the sequences further ― we find them expressing pure algorithms that point the biophysicist towards the answers to all the ultimate and previously unfathomable questions: the nature of life, the future of evolution ― why, it makes completely unnecessary the biologist’s painstaking cladistic analysis in its entirety.”

“You’re losing me.”

“I’m sure you’re absorbing enough to make the desired impression,” Pandavas insisted.

“Oh it’s making an impression alright,” Lyköan replied.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Men make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please; they do not make it under circumstances chosen by themselves, but under circumstances directly encountered, given and transmitted from the past.

Julius Marx :
The House that Shadows Built

There was obviously more than one possible explanation for what was happening here, but every one of them had begun circling the locus of mental instability the same way buzzards circle above a rotting carcass. One possibility? A familiar cinematic device, the comatose shooting victim clinging to life somewhere in the Bumrungrad Hospital ICU, experiencing a classic REM dream sequence.

Dreams feel real and rational
, Lyköan was thinking.
But sensation, pain in particular – that’s something that rarely enters the dream-world. Disoriented – no doubt about it – but it hurts like hell. So this – this nightmare – even with all its dream-like qualities, it’s undoubtedly real. Meaning I’m wide awake and the prisoner of a madman. Or maybe it’s me who’s fallen off the deep end – gone stark raving... Madmen feel pain too...

What Pandavas was saying sounded a helluva lot crazier than what Lyköan was thinking. Freedom to pace this room hadn’t changed that. Journalists, when wishing to describe a lunatic without actually using the term, will often write, ‘He delivered a long rambling statement’. It described Pandavas perfectly. What was he spouting off about now?

“The ancient Romans were quite aware that the Earth was a sphere. Did you know that, Lyköan? Sculptures executed as early as the first century depict archetypal Rome in victory, with a vanquishing foot upon the globe. When and how did conventional wisdom lose touch with that knowledge? Do you think it was just another casualty of the Dark Ages?”

“I dunno,” Lyköan answered calmly, assuming Pandavas was not posing the question rhetorically. Anyone’s mental health can be debated, but if you wish to deal rationally with a potential lunatic, it's generally best to pretend to be sane yourself.

“The answer is an emphatic ‘no’,” Pandavas said, answering his own question. “It was the result of other forces – pernicious and pervasive currents in the stream of history.”

“That’s pretty vague, isn’t it?”
Draw him out. Let him talk
.

“The forces involved are not ― by their very nature ― given to precise description.”

“Jesus, Doctor, call them
something
. Maybe then I’ll understand what you’re driving at.”

“It’s a difficult concept ― and requires a great deal of open-mindedness. I question whether you’re ready to accept the proof.”

“Try me, I may surprise you.”

“As you wish. Let’s call this arrangement of forces
the Artifact
.”             

“Great. We’ve got a name. What makes this
Artifact
so interesting?”

“Think back to our earlier discussion ― the variability of potential futures. You can accept that much of my argument, yes?"

Lyköan had to agree that he did.

We might use Plato’s prisoners in the cave metaphor. If the shadows cast by their campfire is their only view of the world, the Artifact ― in metaphysical parlance a Demiurge ― is the fire, the face of hysteria that lies hidden behind the opaque veil that creates the full extent of our perceptual reality. It is this Demiurge that deflects human understanding, projecting only cave shadows, distortions and fabrications that conceal the truth.”

“A Demiurge is it? And what are you, its high priest?”

“Not at all. In fact, far from it, for we intend to draw away the veil and reveal the truth this Artifact has kept hidden.”

“Sounds Gnostic. The hidden truth to which only you hold the key. By no means an original concept, you know. What makes you believe this Artifact actually exists?”

“Innumerable experiments we’ve conducted show it to be as real as any protein expression, as true as, say, the force of gravity.” 

“And the purpose of this Artifact?”
Don’t lunatics always believe their lunacies?

“To prevent the Urgrund, the Overmind ― God, if you will ― from knowing itself.”

“Why? What would be the purpose?” Lyköan asked, genuinely incredulous.
Christ, this is really too much!
No doubt about it, Pandavas was delusional. Rolling his eyes as he circled the room, Lyköan passed the locked door’s tiny window and caught a glimpse of the two guards standing outside.

“To keep the sentient beings in line,” Pandavas answered.

“Or else...?”

“Or else they might somehow reveal the truth to the Urgrund, which in turn would threaten the Artifact’s control. I see you still aren’t convinced. But it happens occasionally. In Brahmanism, we recognize these revelatory periods as the ending of a great cycle. Shiva awakens, as in the story of Arjuna – and the slate is wiped clean. Only to have the cycle repeated when Brahma slips back into forgetfulness and another Artifact emerges to install a new brand of enslavement. Until the next awakening. Metaphors, of course, for the true mechanism, the actual physics of this destruction and creation. Immense paroxysms are involved. What we are witnessing now, in the context of history as we all misperceive it, are dysfunctions that would be expected at the end of such a cycle. But a final great conflagration is still required ― a shock to the underlying fabric of existence.”

“Do you have proof of any of this?” Lyköan asked.

Pandavas seemed happy to oblige. “There’s proof in the symmetry between the macrocosmos: the ever-expanding physical universe – and the microcosmos: the human mind.

“On the surface we have the familiar universe, the spurious projected reality. Haven’t you ever suspected as much? Beneath it, however, lies the authentic universe ― or more correctly…” Pandavas paused. “Univer
ses
. Unfortunately, human beings rarely achieve the penetrative insight required to perceive this genuine substratum.

“The human mind is simply too limited an instrument, our little egos too brief and transitory, unable to perceive that behind the projected veil dwells an
absolute
. But if that veil is penetrated, the authentic reality ― with which it is inexorably linked ―
can
be revealed.

“That doesn’t sound like a proof to me,” Lyköan broke in. “Am I missing something? How about an example?”

“I’ll give you two: Zoroaster and the Buddha. In the past, the linkage has always been limited to spiritual inspiration. But scientific inquiry can just as surely obtain the desired end. Using the very clues left by the Urgrund itself ― clearly espoused in the elemental building blocks of our creation ― we
can
pierce the veil and expose that true and more authentic reality.”

“Don’t include me in your little nightmare, champ. I don’t buy it. How does an annihilative pandemic serve the interests of creation?”

“Whether you care to be involved or not, you’ve already been integral to the anamnesis.”

“The what?”

“Anamnesis, literally ‘the loss of forgetfulness’. The Overmind being jogged into remembering its own identity. Transcendent revelation, by disinhibiting certain synaptic and metabolic pathways through precise stimulation from an external source. In the proper setting, an irreversible neural process can be set in motion and the veil of false reality drawn away.

“This search for personal anamnesis is not without precedent. Giordano Bruno, the fourteenth century Italian philosopher and alchemist, spent his entire life plumbing human DNA gene pool memory with some success. Much of our work with Hypothecated Modeling has confirmed his postulations. But he was never able to take the most critical
next step
because he didn’t possess the necessary tools ― the biologic and technical instruments required. Although he
had
discovered a key, unlocked one door, there were literally thousands of other doors that needed similar keys before full anamnesis could even be hypothesized. But where he fell short, we have succeeded.”

Lyköan was dumbstruck.
That ain’t the deep end you’ve fallen into, Doc, it’s the abyss!

“There is one more important point to consider,” Pandavas added after a few well-deserved breaths. “In adjusting existence at the end of each age, these periods of universal anamnesis,
everything
is altered ― the whole of creation.

“Don’t look so incredulous, Lyköan. The concept isn’t limited to Eastern religions. You have Noah’s flood in the Old Testament. Christ’s Second Coming in the New. The sheep separated from the goats. Slightly more surgical I’ll admit, but conflagratory nonetheless. Each ending sets the stage for the Rebirth of Order, after the slate has been wiped
completely
clean.”

Whether Lyköan believed any of this ominous diatribe was immaterial. Pandavas obviously believed all of it. Believed it enough to excuse and commit murder on a global scale. Logic rarely complements faith. And self-proclaimed avatars always seem to find apostles, folks out in the world at large, some of them quite intelligent, who did or would or at least could believe just about anything. Pandavas’s lunacy wasn’t much different than the Jim Jones Kool-Aid drinkers or those Hale-Bopp comet wackos. Except in scope. Pandavas wasn’t any more insane, just billions of times more dangerous.

“That’s all well and good,” Lyköan felt forced to argue. “But it’s still only an argument, not a proof. Isn’t there just the wee tiniest chance these nano-whatever alterations you’ve made in the brains of your little band of Shiva age-enders might have fucked up your thinking ― that while
you
actually
believe
what you’re doing is part of some grand design,
just maybe
it’s not in the best interests of
my
universe?”

“There are plenty of others.”

“Other what?”

“Other universes,” Pandavas beamed matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” Lyköan replied with a slow nod of his head.
Remember, you’re arguing with a madman.

“Call them universes, dimensions, or membranes ― whatever you’d like.”

Sure, whatever floats your boat
, Lyköan thought.

“You want proof?” Pandavas offered. “I can give you as much concrete proof – mathematical and metaphysical certitude ― as you could ever handle.”

“Proof of what? And what proof?”

“Of everything I’ve been saying. That the real universe is not limited to the four dimensions. Or even the additional seven dimensions required of string theory ― or the ten thousand dimensions recognized in the
Bhagavad-Gītā.
No, my friend, the actual fullness of creation is composed of an
infinite
number of dimensions. I prefer the term uchronia, but the name is immaterial. Taken together, they form a multiverse of sublime expanse and complexity.”

Pandavas looked quite happy with himself. “Like laying an infinite number of Landsat photographic films on a map of the city of London, each of them slightly different. As you move away, in the membranous stack, from our present reality, the position of some mailboxes, for instance, will shift, then the facades of some buildings.

“Let’s say this is our present reality,” Pandavas indicated, slicing the air with an open palm, serving as his divisor. Then, placing his other palm against the first, he slowly drew it away horizontally, continuing, “As we move farther and farther from our starting point, each new membrane ― sheet of film in our example ― becomes progressively different from the reality with which we are familiar – and the alterations more dramatic.

“At the same time, the cascading interactivity of lives shift... Alternate realities as far as the mind of man can imagine and the Artifact can control ― virtually without end ― and because of every chance change available within every passing second, ever expanding.

“For instance, in a uchronion not yet very far removed from our own, the twin towers never collapsed and the Platte River nuclear plot was thwarted without the loss of a single life.”

“Yeah, right,” Lyköan muttered, thinking:
If only
. Where was the data from this alleged research?
Would love to see that
. Whatever proof did exist, it apparently had been enough to convince Pandavas. For a lunatic, that probably didn’t take much.

Ignoring Lyköan’s sarcasm, Pandavas continued. “Most differences, however, are much more subtle ― would be entirely unnoticed by the casual observer. If you were to walk the streets of London, let’s say, in a closely proximate uchronion, it would only be after a considerable amount of time or by careful investigation, that you could ever distinguish any difference at all. But let me assure you, the millions of minute variations do change the direction of individual futures, dividing and redividing them into multiple, ever expanding
could-have-beens
― creating actual
weres
. Move far enough away, however, and the changes become startling ― completely divergent from our present reality ― until they bear little resemblance to the reality we find so familiar and take for granted.”