Stones: Theory (Stones #4) (43 page)

They hear a sudden gasp for air behind them.

Matt wakes up.

M
iyazawa looks down from his transport at the three floating torii gates in the water, each with a fresh coat of vermillion paint. Atop the highest crossbeam, a long arc with upturned ends shines glossy black in the morning light. Mist hangs low around the many sloping corners of the
Itsukushima
shrine, freshly rebuilt with Japanese cedar for the occasion.

“We wait until high-tide,” Miyazawa says. “We will present the Gift just as the waters touch the base of the
jinja
shrine.” He looks from the glass wall to an assistant standing next to him. “Do we have sufficient numbers of the Gift for each who enters the shrine?”

“We took delivery of 500,000 units last night.” The assistant lifts a transparent cube in her palm and stares down at the blue jewel suspended in its interior. “Invitations were sent out to only 300,000 for this first Giving. It will be sufficient.”

Miyazawa turns back to the window. “Once the ceremony begins, others will come to partake of the Gift. They must not be turned away. All must receive so that all can know of the
Kami
.” He walks back to his private quarters. “Wake me when it is time.”

The door slides shut behind him.

He walks to a mirror and gazes at his own reflection. The dilated eyes are pools of black tar matching the color of the high cap on his head. A thick silken tunic extends down his chest and below his waist. The outer robes of starched cotton hang as straight as boards. His hands disappear beneath the oversized sleeves.

As a living
Kami
, it is no longer necessary to remove the robes of a Shinto priest while he sleeps. They have become as much a part of him as his own skin.

Next to the spread of Shinto to every corner of the world, the Gift will be his greatest legacy to believers everywhere. It will join them together with him, allow them to partake of his divinity, and bring them all together as one. There will be no question that he is the Way.

Through him, they will all become
Kami
, the ultimate realization of Shinto ideals.

Relaxing into a white leather chair, he reaches to a small stand beside him, works his arms out of the sleeves and finds one of the soft gelatin cubes that litter his compartment. With a practiced motion, he strips off a thin green square. It goes inside his robe against the bare skin of his chest. The familiar rush of warmth flows up his spine and branches out into an infinity of nerve endings, reaching into every part of his body and bringing it all together as one. Then he closes his eyes and falls back into the chair. The warmth entwines and cradles his body in a soft bubble.

As he gives himself up to its comfort, he is ready at last to fully engage the blue jewel.

His past attempts have failed. Today he is resolved to go all the way.

Even with the help of the derm patch, the initial merge with the Mesh calls up intense fear, like standing on a high precipice looking down into a wild river. That first step is the hardest. It takes incredible courage or a sufficient dosage of morphine analog to take it.

His eyelids flutter down, and Miyazawa lets himself fall forward in a long swan dive into the churning white below. A second after impact, he penetrates the icy chill of the connection and senses intense motion as the current sweeps him away. The warmth of the derm patch helps, but he still shivers uncontrollably until his body and mind acclimate.

His mind wanders.

Since the late-twentieth century, there had been speculation about how the
inside
of the Mesh would appear to a connected human mind. Miyazawa was an avid reader of the literature. Ubiquitous bluescreens and holo technology caused most to imagine it as a monochromatic universe of icy blue penetrating the black of boundless inner space. In this perpetual night, motion along grid lines provided access to oceans of data displayed in cold mathematical precision.

But the truth is much more complex.

Miyazawa opens his eyes and gazes upon a world of white space filled with intense color and sound. It has no horizon, no up or down, no limits. Like an infinite ocean, the world inside the Mesh spreads out in three equal dimensions. Travel is easy. Simply select a destination with the eyes and move in its direction, fast or slow.

Understanding floods his mind.

A library might appear as a brilliant pink sphere floating in a sea of blue. Entering might be as simple as swimming through its outer film. A corporate headquarters might be a large green plain lined with mountain ranges and dotted with small rural villages. A government Mesh-point might be an entire city in the form of a massive chrome cube shot through with roads and buildings that appear to be made of glass and steel.

Other people in the Mesh appear in the form of the avatar of their liking. It might be a stylized version of themselves or something completely different. A dragon, a faerie. A ninja warrior.

The choices are infinite and effortless.

Data takes whatever form the traveler choses. Pie charts convert into multi-dimensional bar graphs with a mere thought. All of it has a tactile feel that is both natural and intensely real. Whatever is seen with the eyes can be touched and moved with the hands.

Tastes and smells abound.

The inner world of the Mesh as revealed by the blue jewel plays on all of the senses.

And there is another sense, one that has no analog in the world of dirt and blood and tears. Inside the Mesh, every object is a source of
information
. Any contact with an object causes data to flow directly from that object into the mind.

Touch a purring cat and instantly see its DNA structure. Handle a book and absorb its contents in an instant. Inhale the aroma of a lotus flower and master the history of Buddhism. Taste a sphere of honey nectar and understand the geometry of circles and ten billion digits of pi.

Every object in the Mesh is a receptacle of information. Interact with the object and the information flows freely.

Miyazawa marvels that still there is more.

In the real world, anyone can create a Mesh-point, but it requires a knowledge of arcane coding skills that, like second languages, are most easily acquired in early childhood. It comes naturally to the young whose minds can adapt to ever-evolving technology. But as one grows and matures, and as technology changes, their skills became outdated and useless.

That’s why the best Mesh-runners are between the ages of eight and twenty-four. By the time they hit thirty, they’re overtaken by a flood of younger talent.

But Miyazawa instantly understands that the blue jewel opens up a new world of creative possibility.

Inside the Mesh, creating a Mesh-point is a simple matter of
thinking
. Imagination becomes reality.

He moves at light speed past a blur of colored spheres and down through a sea of blue teeming with white dolphins. It might have been a college course on oceanography, or perhaps a Mesh-point created for supporters of a new global warming initiative.

He doesn’t stop to investigate. Rather, he jumps to an open area, a sea of white space as yet unclaimed. His thoughts go to his shrine in the mountains of northern Japan. Imagining all its topography, its landscaping, the structure of its buildings, he gazes as it comes together before his eyes.

And there it floats, a city in the clouds.

He marvels at the calm mountain setting of his own creation drawn from his favorite traditional Japanese wall hanging. He touches down on the courtyard of white pearls. As he walks forward, they move under his feet with a satisfying crunch. He stoops down to run his fingers over them. Touching their warm surfaces, each one contains an ancient proverb from a long forgotten Shinto master that plays in his ears.

He selects one perfectly shaped pearl and cradles it in his palm. An entire discourse on the fleeting nature of reality opens to his mind.

It will do the same for his followers.

Walking, he passes beneath two cherry blossom trees that grow in the form of a torii gate ten meters high. Their trunks form the vertical pillars, and branches come together overhead in the shape of two distinct crossbeams. Placing his hands on the smooth white bark, sweet music from the old tree in the forest flows through his body and lifts his soul on wings of ecstasy.

It will do the same for his Shinto followers.

He sees it in his mind.

From all over the Mesh, they will come here to worship the living
Kami
. From here, he will impart the wisdom that comes only to those who are purged of all filth.

He steps off the sea of white onto golden stairs up to a platform of diamond crystal where he will stand and preach to the masses. Framed by a gorgeously tiled roof and pillars of the shrine behind him, this will become a major hub of the new Mesh, a daily stopping point for billions of the world-wide faithful.

Dropping his hands to the rail, he looks out on the landscape. The open plain below the shrine enlarges or shrinks on his whim, large enough or small enough to accommodate any number of visitors. Around the edges, he places picturesque rice-patties and cone-shaped mountains to add a sense of harmony and peace.

In the distance, Mount Fuji rises in majesty.

A gentle hand touches his shoulder. He turns to see one of his assistants, clad in a lustrous Shinto robe of gold. She smiles and bows.

“It is high-tide at the
Itsukushima
Shrine,” she says. “The ceremony will soon begin.”

Miyazawa nods and inhales the sweet fragrance emanating from her. “Let us go and unveil the Gift to all.”

T
he rain stops.

“Let’s kill him while we can.” Alexa points her pulse rifle down at Ryzaard. Her finger twitches on the trigger.

From behind, Matt steps forward. “No.” His blue skin is gone. He grabs the barrel with his hand, jerks it away from Alexa and throws it to the pavement. “Killing is not the answer. Not anymore.”

“Isn’t that why we came here?”

“That’s why
he
came here,” Matt says. “I know better now.”

Alexa stares back at Matt. Her mouth drops open. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Something happened just now.” Matt pulls Jessica closer. “Something terrible
and
wonderful.”

Jessica, Alexa and Yarah all freeze.

“What are you talking about?” Jessica says.

Matt points down at Ryzaard. “Him. I was inside his mind. I saw his life. All of it.” He slips a glowing white Stone out of his pocket. “I can’t kill him. He’s wrong, but I can’t kill him.” He looks up from face to face. “I won’t kill him.”

“But he’s a murderer!” Alexa says the words one at a time, slowly and loudly. “He’s killed millions without regret, some of them members of my family. He’ll kill millions more to get what he wants. He doesn’t deserve to live.” She picks up her pulse rifle and pumps it. “One shot and we’ll be rid of this monster. The world will thank us.”

“You may be right,” Matt says. “But killing is not the answer.”

Alexa backs up a couple of steps. “I don’t believe this. What have you become? Some kind of sick pacifist?” She moves her gaze to Jessica. “Can you please talk some sense into him?”

“Look,” Matt says. “All is said was that I’m not going to kill him. I didn’t say I was going to do nothing. I want to stop him as much as you do, but this isn’t the way. If we kill him now, someone else will just step into his shoes and take over.” He tosses his Stone up and down in his palm. “I severed the connection between him and his Stones. Temporarily. He’s frozen in time and can’t be killed. He’ll wake up in a few minutes and open his eyes. We can get away without being detected while his Stones are dead. Maybe we can figure out how to stop him without committing murder.”

Jessica looks into Matt’s eyes. “Are you sure about this? There are times when killing is justified. Isn’t it OK to kill one man so an entire world can live in peace?”

“Look, Jess. There’s a lot I still don’t understand.” Matt reaches down and strokes Yarah’s head. “People have always looked for ways to justify killing. And it just results in more killing and more suffering. Maybe it’s time we take a different path. Maybe I’m just being naïve. But I’m not going to do the same thing to him that he wants to do to me.”