Idols (35 page)
Everywhere, purple and green become one color. The undersides of leaves and their surfaces, the waving of one palm frond over the next.
As our pathway twists, relics of man begin to appear, one by one.
A brass statue stands to mark the way.
An urn with golden, looping handles, almost a drum.
A twisting, rising ram, with spiraling horns.
Two kneeling figures, smaller than the Buddha, that stare directly at each other.
“See that? The way they look at each other?” Bibi nods. “Symbol of truth.”
I frown. “Why would truth hide on a mountaintop in the middle of a jungle? What’s so honest about that?”
“Secret truths, Dol. The truth you cannot tell others. The truth you can only tell yourself.”
What are the secret truths? The ones I would write on the page and toss into the fire?
I love someone who loves me back, and another someone who hates me back?
Ro squeezes my hand, as if in answer.
That’s it. That’s the one.
That’s the most secret truth of all.
I will never not love him.
I’m Doloria Maria de la Cruz. He’s Furo Costas.
We were made to be together.
There isn’t anything more true than that, whether or not I want it to be that way.
I pull my hand from his, and Ro looks at me, puzzled. I look away.
I can’t look him in the eye. If I do, he’ll see it—my own hidden truth.
He’ll see everything.
I can’t risk that.
I’m not ready.
And I love Lucas. At least, I think I do.
Don’t I?
I’m grateful when I am finally too tired to think. We don’t stop, though, and the jungle changes with every passing step. Trees shift and stretch beneath me; now I find myself looking down on everything I looked up to before. Bursts of orchid blossoms cluster on branches at either end of the steps, as if they were some strange sort of otherworldly jungle brides. I pass them without stopping, focusing instead on my upward path.
When we reach the top of the stone steps, I am winded—we all are. But I see we are not the only ones who have made this pilgrimage.
The Buddha’s hands are full of delicate white blossoms, gifts from other visitors. His hands cup each other, making a kind of stone ledge over his folded legs. He’s not the same as my Emerald Buddha, but familiar anyway. His ears are long and patterned into an abstract design; his robes are etched down his chest, folding across his bare belly.
When I look up into his face, I see that his eyes are blank but his mouth turns up at the corners. His third eye lies in his forehead, beneath the neat rows of carved circles that imply his hair.
Three eyes.
He is blind but compassionate.
He does not fear anything.
I lay my hand against the stone, almost unconsciously. I want to feel what he feels, even if he is only a carved piece of stone, a ruin in the jungle.
Not so.
The stone vibrates with feeling beneath my hand.
“We’re getting close,” I say, with a smile. “We must be.”
“Why do you say that?” Lucas turns to look at me strangely. I notice him glancing with relief at my hand, the one that is no longer in Ro’s.
“This thing. It’s breathing. It wants us to keep going.” I look up at the Buddha’s stone face. “I mean, he wants us to keep going. Here, feel for yourself.” I take Lucas’s hand and put it beneath mine, and the vibration passes through him to me. I smile, blushing.
“Wow,” Tima blurts out next to me as she touches it herself. “That’s just crazy.”
Bibi smiles at us but says nothing. Fortis swats at an insect on his neck, purposely avoiding my look.
But Tima and Lucas and Ro join me as I move, and the four of us walk up the mountain together as if we know where we are going.
GENERAL EMBASSY DISPATCH: EASTASIA SUBSTATION
MARKED URGENT
MARKED EYES ONLY
Internal Investigative Subcommittee IIS211B
RE: The Incident at SEA Colonies
Note: Contact Jasmine3k, Virt. Hybrid Human 39261.SEA, Laboratory Assistant to Dr. E. Yang, for future commentary, as necessary.
DOC ==> FORTIS
Transcript - ComLog 11.22.2069
//comlog begin;
DOC:
I have made some progress in deciphering NULL’s instructions.;
FORTIS:
Well done! Please tell me more.;
DOC:
I have confirmed NULL is nonbiological. Pure technology. So-called “artificial” intelligence.;
FORTIS:
So he is software. Self-aware autopilot?;
DOC:
Much more than that, but in a manner of speaking, yes. Autopilot, guardian, protector. I even presented him with a variant Turing test, asking a question that requires highly sophisticated, human-esque cognition.;
FORTIS:
And?;
DOC:
NULL has very quickly absorbed much information from our global network, and has a nuanced understanding that I did not expect.;
FORTIS:
Supersmart. Human-esque… I hope we can find an advantage in this. Anything else?;
DOC:
I have discovered and begun breaking down his instructions in terms I best understand. I am working on a shorthand or pseudocode describing his mission.;
FORTIS:
His decision-making algorithm? That would be extremely useful.;
DOC:
I believe so. I should have something for you soon.;
//comlog end;
It’s late now, but we’re close. We keep going.
As we move, I listen to the darkness around us.
In the night it sounds like the jungle is snoring. Snoring. Sometimes purring.
But not just that.
As we continue to follow the path through the jungle, the night sounds like too many things. High notes, literally—in the treetops, where I can’t see them. Low notes, rattling frog throats, or some sort of unruffled insect throwing its weight around. Two sticks beating themselves together in rhythmic procession.
Not everything in the canopy of trees is so steady. I am glad I cannot see very far in the night. Shrieking echoes of creatures I will never meet, not face-to-face. At least I hope not. Gibbons and tapirs, leopards and tigers, pythons and otters—at least, according to Bibi. I don’t know which is which; I only hear sounds of screaming babies where there are none. Rattling howls that answer each other, back and forth in wordless conversations. Patterns in the night that make sense to the night alone.
It’s not the steady pulse of machine noise. Not the unbreakable silence of the dead highways. Not the beeping of Doc’s own Embassy network, back in Examination Facility #9B, my home away from home at the Embassy.
It’s Earth noise. Life noise. Jungle noise.
I pray that there are places that not even the Lords can go, that never have been and never will be found.
A few hours later, it is no longer the jungle I can hear around me.
I hear voices. Thousands of them. Singing. Talking among themselves. Praying. Remembering other mountains, other moons. Telling stories of this mountain, long ago.
“Bibi,” I say. “Bibi, listen. Something’s going on.”
“What is it?” He stops.
“I don’t know, but I hear them. I hear them, and I feel them. Do you?”
“The girl?” I see Fortis’s eyes glinting in the moonlight. I shake my head.
“Not the girl. Others. Many, many others.” My head feels like it’s going to split. “Too many others.”
“It’s not just you,” says Tima. “I mean, I hear them too. Listen.”
Now we all stop.
There it is. Some kind of low singing—more like chanting—catches on the breeze above us. The mountain sounds like it is coming alive.
“Full moon. Must be some kind of ceremony.” Bibi nods.
Tima looks at him. “Which one?”
“No idea.” He shrugs.
Lucas is exasperated. “You’re a monk. You should know these things.”
“Part monk, remember?” Bibi raises an eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. “I know, I know. Three out of four vows.”
“And do you have any idea how many temple ceremonies there are in these Colonies? Or for that matter, how many temples there are? It used to be, a person died, you built them a temple. You know how many people have died in this part of the world, even before The Day?” Bibi shakes his head. “That’s a lot of temples.”
Tima looks at me. “Can you show us the way to the voices?”
I nod. “I think so.”
They fall into step behind me—Ro moving wordlessly next to me—and we walk in the darkness toward the great wave of human noise in my head.
Finally, I push through a thick stand of young bamboo, and we see them on the path beneath us.
A thousand lanterns and candles, a river of humanity and light that I have only seen once before in my life. The night we destroyed the Icon in the Hole.
It feels like we are alive. Really alive. Tima is remembering lanterns, other lanterns, floating in the sky. Lucas is thinking of birthday cake. Ro is transfixed by the fire. I feel it all.
Bibi smiles. He’s thinking about me. Wondering how it feels. Wondering what I see.
“Everything,” I say, simply.
His eyes widen, startled. He wasn’t expecting me to answer. “A miracle, and a burden.” He nods.
I shrug.
“Come,” says Bibi. “We’ll join our friends. About a thousand of them. They’ll take us to the temple. Wat Doi Suthep.” He grins at me. “Can you feel them?”
I close my eyes and listen. Reach out. “They’ve been walking for hours, and they have to walk back to their village again. I think we must be close to the top. At least, that’s what they seem to think.”
“What else?” Bibi sounds interested, and I close my eyes.
“There was an elephant, long ago. He carried the relic of an ancient holy man to the top of this mountain. When he reached the top he died, and a temple was built to mark the site. The relic was buried beneath the temple. This is the night of the elephant moon,” I say, opening my eyes.
“Very lucky,” says Bibi. “Very, very lucky. A good sign.”
“Is anything not a good sign with you?” says Fortis.
“Yes. That comment right there. Bad sign. Very, very bad sign.”
