Unison (The Spheral) (40 page)

Manolis invited me to play with the orchestra until I left. The morning after my final performance, I headed towards the park for some quiet time at the duck pond. As I neared the entrance, a familiar voice shouted out to me. I turned and saw Michael walking towards me. Whatever emotions I thought abandoned me had returned. We ended up at one of the more quiet cafes where Michael spent the first few minutes twirling a spoon in his coffee cup.

“Glad you taught me how to speak Knosian,” he said while still stirring. “It was easy for me to get in here.”

“Did you try out for the conservatory?”

“I’m in—but not until next year.”

“That’s great news, Michael.”

He stopped stirring the coffee and looked up at me. “You’re not asking…why?”

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“My grandfather and I went fishing. I got bored and went to find rocks to finish a mosaic table I was going to give my mother for her birthday. I passed a man feeding his horse—he seemed friendly. He gave me some almonds and figs without asking for anything in return, and I thanked him by inviting him to my mother’s birthday celebration.” Michael nervously stirred his coffee again. “Next morning, while I was out in the wheat field, I heard horses approaching. I ran to the side of one of the bungalows just as four men on horses broke through the gate, swinging chains and—”

A large group of people celebrating nearby laughed. Michael pushed back his chair. “It’s too noisy here. Michael got up and walked away.

I paid for our bill, picked up a bag of bread I had previously bought for the ducks, and caught up with Michael. We headed to the park and strolled two laps around the path and ended up at the duck pond.

Gadfly waddled over to me, and I handed him a small piece of bread.

“I miss the river near Littlefield,” Michael said as he gazed reflectively at the pond. “When I hid as the bandits were pillaging our village, I was missing it already.”

“You don’t have to tell me anymore tonight.” I handed Michael some scraps of bread.

“They rounded everyone up and led them towards the pen.” Michael tossed some bread at the ducks. “They let out all the pigs and began to whip everyone with their chains.”

I connected to the tragedy of the villagers as I recalled my own beating and how I would’ve met the same end if it weren’t for Shisa.

“My family and friends were huddled together, trying to protect their faces.” Michael wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “The man I met the previous day was the last to stop the beatings, and it looked as though he was enjoying himself. He smiled and laughed as he continued with the lashings until one of the other bandits had to tell him to stop; everyone was dead.” Michael faced me. “It’s all my fault, Damon. If I didn’t tell that man about Littlefield—”

“You couldn’t have known what would happen. Don’t put this all on yourself. Your grandfather and mother wouldn’t want that.”

“I hated Littlefield and couldn’t wait to leave.” Michael looked away from me. “After you left, my mother and I continued fighting. We never agreed about my studying here, and I knew you wouldn’t take me with you when you found out. We got into our biggest fight on the day the bandits came. I went to the river to think. That’s why I wasn’t around when they showed up.” He clutched his forehead. “I can’t stop thinking about what went on in her mind before she died.”

“She was thankful you weren’t in the pen with her and that you’d have a chance to live out your dreams.”

“Maybe I wanted this to happen…so I could have my freedom.”

I clutched Michael’s arm. “Don’t ever believe that. Your desire to travel and see the world had nothing to do with what those murderers did.”

“My grandfather always warned me never to tell strangers about Littlefield. If I obeyed him and kept quiet, my mother and the rest of the villagers would all be alive now, and I’d be on my way here with you.”

“Littlefield wasn’t exactly a secret. They might have also stumbled upon it by accident.”

“Makes no difference. My mother died believing I hated her, and nothing’s going to change that. I’ll never forget the look on her face when I left.” Michael cried. “Never.”

I hugged him, which worked better than words. This was something that only time could heal, and I thought back to Harmony and realized the damage I’d done with the grieving process. We have to feel the loss of those we love to remember them.

Michael's birthday came three days later, and he refused to celebrate. I persuaded him to return to the cabin until his classes began. He went on a few transports with me, and our bond strengthened through each passing of the tunnel and turn of the season. Eventually he started calling me, “Father,” and he wasn’t any less of a son to me than Aaron and James.

Forty years passed, and I lived the satisfying life that would’ve made Sephroy and Tyrus proud. I had relationships with females but nothing long-lasting. I didn’t want another unresolved relationship in my next incarnation. My time was spent mostly on reading, running Freedomline, and traveling to New Athenia to meet with Michael and his family. He married a nurse, and they had three children: two boys and a girl. Michael named his eldest son after me, and the children called me grandfather, a title I both honored and treasured. Manolis let me play in the orchestra during every visit. I opted out during my final year, sensing I wouldn’t be around for another season.

My remaining time was spent with family and at the duckpond, which was where I spent the last day of my fifth incarnation. As I gazed out at a mother duck leading her younglings across the water, I pondered over my actions in my current timeline and what I could change the next time, if there was a next time. When things are about to end, there’s a sense of closure that relaxes the body and mind into an acceptance. In some incarnations, I had time to prepare for my end. In others, I came to an end without warning. But ending, in my reality, is a temporary condition. Once my outside life is completed, the only thing left is my inner world that remains static and unchanging like the starlit sky. Of course, that’s merely a subjective interpretation; the sky does change, but it’s so slow you hardly notice it in your lifetime. This is how I witness my life: unchanging, with outcomes not perceived until many incarnations later.

Several moments before my death, Sutara came to me in a vision.

“I’ve done all you asked, and I still don’t remember. What else can I do?”

“I do not know anymore.” She cried. “This has taken over my whole life. No man will marry me, and everyone in my village is afraid of what secrets I know about them. They think because I can remember my past lives, I can remember theirs.”

I felt a jab of pain in my chest and became short of breath.

Sutara came to me and knelt by my side. “Why is it so difficult for you to move past this?”

“I remember too late. I’ve been studying COR—hoping to find a way to leave myself a message in my next incarnation, but it’s impossible. Time is subjective to our reality. I can’t tap into something that exists beyond time, which is from where COR originates.”

“This is not science; it is the Divine manifest in us.”

“I don’t know what it is. I only know what it isn’t…part of time. Wherever it comes from will be where I’ll soon be before my return.” I clutched my head. “Slock, I’m not making sense, even to myself.”

“You cannot analyze this, Damon.”

“I’ll eventually figure it out.”

“What do you hope to do after the mystery is solved? Put it under a microscope, study it and hope for a cure?”

“I can stop myself from inventing Harmony.”

“And then what?

“I can rest.”

“What about the Six? We need to get together. This is too much for me to—”

I grabbed my chest as I felt more pain. “My time is almost up. We can discuss this when I return.”

“This is not only about you, Damon. We must find the others—”

“Not until I succeed.”

Sutara glared at me. “What if you cannot?”

“I won’t stop until I do.”

“I will not stay quiet next time. I’m tired of carrying the burden myself.”

“You won’t for long. I’ll succeed next time.” I took hold of her hand and neither of us spoke another word. Nothing I said would’ve wiped away Sutara’s doubtful expression or my own uncertainty over being able to live up to my declaration. I’d have to prove it through my actions. I carried that thought out of my fifth incarnation.

MOONLIGHT AND WINE

SIXTH INCARNATION

I
stared over the precipice that Wade had just jumped over and laughed. Rolling on to my back, I continued to laugh harder than I had in previous incarnations, including the time I went mad in the old tunnel. I couldn't rationalize my behavior back then, but I can explain why I was laughing after the death of my closest friend in this incarnation. I was struck with the realization how we were both more similar than unlike. Wade didn’t cross the old tunnel with Nasia because he feared losing his assignment; I feared Old Woman’s words because I then would’ve had to admit I undervalued my personal desires to be accepted by the Corporate Hierarchy. Wade and I both succumbed to fear. We gave ourselves away willingly and without a fight. I almost followed Wade off the ridge when I admitted I voluntarily enslaved myself, but I felt more foolish over not figuring it out sooner, so I laughed at myself instead. My laughter persisted during Old Woman’s sacred burning. According to her journal, her fear was loneliness. She continued Torrin’s work to remain connected to him. I thought about everyone I knew in Unity and noticed they also followed a similar pattern. None of them lived true to themselves out of fear.
Real or imagined, fear is epidemic
!
It infected everyone!
This realization made me miss Wade even more because I knew if I told him what I had just figured out, he’d be chortling alongside me.

My euphoric mood eased my first meeting with Shisa, who whimpered as she circled around the pyre. Unafraid, I walked up to her. She paused in front of me and growled softly. “It’s all right, girl.” I kneeled in front of her, taken aback by my automatic response and even more so when Shisa stopped growling and came to me with her head held low. I petted her. “Good girl.” She whimpered again, and I was again acquainted with my loyal companion. After six incarnations I never forgot her name, but I never recalled the identity of the woman who named her.

As I headed towards the old tunnel, I thought about all the years I wasted giving myself away. What would I’ve done had I lived for myself? I had no idea what I wanted. In spirit, I was a child again, musing over what I wanted to be when I grew up. Whenever I came up with an idea, I’d either snap my fingers or clap my hands and tell Shisa about my newest revelation. “I could be a painter. I always loved to sketch. What do you think about that, Shisa?” This continued until I reached the old tunnel. “How about an explorer?” I asked as I turned on my lantern. “I’ll travel from place to place and record all my experiences on my holologue. Maybe I’ll even publish a book…if publishing exists outside Unity.”

The anticipation of seeing what lay on the other side intensified when I first caught glimpse of the trainlets. The COR alarm sounded, and I shut it off as Sephroy approached me pushing his cart. He seemed familiar, and after I scrutinized his scraggly appearance, I laughed.