Unison (The Spheral) (29 page)

“This is my payback.” I petted Shisa. “Question is who’s paying me back?”

Shisa answered me in her own way by teaching me the true meaning of compassion. When a rabbit scurried past us, she got up and barked but never left my side. She barked again later when an old man on a mule stopped nearby. He approached and peered over me.

“Thanks for stopping,” I said.

He answered, but with words I couldn’t understand.

I reached inside my pocket and pulled out my last possession—my multipurpose knife. “Take.”

The man leaned down and took it.

“You can have it for a ride to the nearest village.”

He retracted the various blades and seemed amused by the miniature magnifying glass.

“Do you understand?” I asked. “This is a trade.”

He responded in his foreign tongue.

I made a wheel motion with my hands. “Ride. I need a ride.”

After a few more unrecognizable words, he walked away. At first, I thought he went to get something and would return.
He won’t leave me here to die. We made a trade. He’ll come back for me.
Under normal circumstances, the old man’s thievery would’ve been obvious. Reality quickly sobered me up when he got on to his mule and rode off.

“Give me back my knife!” My anger reawakened my voice.

Shisa cried and circled around me.

“I’m slocking dumber than an Outsider, Shisa. You might as well save yourself and go now.”

Shisa sat down next to me.

“I said go!” I pushed her away. “I don’t want you here anymore!”

Shisa gazed at me and whimpered. It made me want her to leave more. I didn’t want her to die again because of my ignorance. After a few more jabs to her side, she walked towards a nearby tree stump and lay down beside it.

I looked up at the darkening gray sky and felt helpless.
I don’t have metallic wings to fly myself out of here. I’m going to die in the woods without the sacred burning, and my body will become fodder for a pack of wild dogs.

Night came, and I was thankful Shisa didn’t leave. I didn’t want to die alone. She returned and nestled beside me, keeping me warm until I fell asleep.

I didn’t find peace in my slumber; Wade’s death kept replaying in my dreams. After reliving several rounds of him plummeting to his death, I woke up yelling and then wept when the reality of my situation returned. When I saw Shisa, I relaxed. I studied the starlit sky until my perception was funneled into the same contained state I experienced while in a coma. I came to accept I’d die alone and no longer felt anchored to my body. Adrift in a stream of calm, my thoughts matched the pace of my slow, almost nonexistent breath. Soft, pleasant vibrations started to present themselves throughout different portions of my body, buzzing and producing their own tone, not audible to my ears, but to some other sense I cannot readily define. The pulsing originated deep at the base of my abdomen and slowly flowed upward in a slow wavelike motion and stopped at the space between my brows. I beheld a starlit sky behind the shades of my eyelids, and the brightest star near the center flickered and exploded. A strong electro-magnetic-like sensation poured into me from the top of my head and surged throughout my whole body. In front of me, a translucent white spherical torus materialized and deflated into a point of light. The same chord from my vision rang out and sustained. The light swelled back to a sphere and contained within were countless galaxies, but there was no void in this space. The galaxies were intertwined by an intricate web of light. They gyrated in rhythm to the chord that began to pulse rapidly in five-quarter time, stressing the fourth and fifth beat.

Suspended in the center of the sphere was a golden nucleus that glowed brighter than the sun, yet I could stare directly at it with no discomfort. The nucleus projected light particles that streamed in an upward column and dispersed throughout the galactic web. Light appeared to be drawn back in from the southern side of the column, traveling back up to the nucleus where the cycle continued.
Time is relevant to sound,
I heard myself say. I opened my eyes, unsure whether I died. I turned to my side relieved to find Shisa fast asleep. After I confirmed my skull was still attached to my head, I closed my eyes. The sphere and I expanded concurrently until we both exploded, merging into one complete awareness. All the knowledge of the Universe came to me unspoken but fully understood. Everything within me sparkled, glimmered and communicated in varying colors and vibratory tones. I surrendered to the euphoria that enveloped me. Such pleasure I had never experienced before, and I never wanted to leave because I knew my human brain wasn’t capable of assimilating so much knowledge.

The ground beneath me started to move, and I opened my eyes. I was now on a horse-drawn cart.

Michael looked down at me. “He’s awake, Grandfather.”

I passed out again, surrendering to my transcendental odyssey.

NOMAD

I
lay prone on a cot weeping but not from the fountain of light that illuminated me hours before. My skin felt as though it were being perpetually stabbed, and I wanted to escape from my damaged body even if it meant my death. Wilfrid and Michael entered with Shisa close behind. She ran over to me and leaned her head on my forearm, one of the few parts of me that didn’t ache.

Michael handed Wilfrid a bottle.

“Go now,” Wilfrid said to Michael.

Michael surveyed my pulverized body with barely a trace of emotion, which made me realize the severity of my condition.

“You were right. Something is wrong with my head,” I said.

“You’re lucky they didn’t break that too.”

“Michael! Mind your speech!” Wilfrid said.

“No offense taken. I deserved that one.” I stroked Shisa’s head. “Go with Michael.”

Michael waved Shisa over, and she followed him out.

Wilfrid came to my bedside. “You’re lucky to be alive. If your dog didn’t show up here barking for us to follow her, you’d be dead.” Wilfrid handed me the bottle. “Drink.”

I took a sip, and it burned my throat going down. “What is this?” I coughed.

“Whisky. And you need to drink a lot more of it.”

“Why?”

“I have to reset the bones in your legs, and it’s going to hurt…a lot.”

“Have you ever done that before?”

“Drink,” Wilfrid said louder.

I drank as much as my throat could withstand and returned the bottle to Wilfrid.

“We’re now ready to begin.” He handed me a rag. “Prepare yourself.”

I needed no further explanation and bit down on the rag, readying myself for what I knew I was about to endure.

As Wilfrid pulled and twisted my thigh bones, pain streaked through my body like a bolt of electricity. I clenched my teeth so hard I was surprised they didn’t shatter. My body stiffened, and tears shot out from my eyes. Focusing on the space between my brows, I hoped for the fountain of light to return and carry me away. I waited until I lost consciousness.

When I awoke, both my legs were in splints. Michael’s mother, Genevieve, entered with a glass of water. She lifted up my head and positioned the rim of the cup between my lips. After a few productive sips, I passed out again.

Sutara returned in a dream. She sat on the stone-carved bench, across from my cot.

“Why do you keep coming to me?” I asked.

“You called me.” She threw her hands in the air. “You always call me.”

“For what?”

“You must remember on your own.”

“Then what’s the point in my calling you?”

Sutara laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I ask myself the same question, and the only answer I can come up with is that you choose not to remember. But a part of you, the part that’s most awake when you’re asleep, wants to hear it. That’s why I still come.”

“I don’t understand.”

Sutara grabbed her head. “Why do I still regress to the same foolish faith I had as a child? I keep returning to you, hoping you’ll finally acknowledge what’s happening.”

“How can I acknowledge something that makes so little sense?”

Sutara rolled her eyes. “Go to the cabin, and you will.”

“There’s nothing there.”

“After the passing of four cycles since your departure from Unity, she will be waiting for you. Please…hurry before you miss her again.”

“Who is she?”

“When you go back, you’ll remember, but you must try to remember sooner next time. I’m tired, and I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Sutara got up and walked to the door. “Each time I come to you, I grow weaker. I must go now.”

“Don’t go. I still don’t under—”

I opened my eyes, and Wilfrid extended a glass of water towards me. He lifted my head, and I took a sip.

“I heard you moaning. Are you all right?” he asked.

“It was just a dream. How long have I been unconscious?”

“For three suns.”

I tried to sit up and a wave of pain forced me back down. “I must seem foolish to you.”

“We all have our moments.”

“I seem to have more of them than most.” I laughed, and my ribs ached.

“Finding humor in your own misfortune shows that you’re getting better.”

“I hope it also shows I’m getting smarter.”

Wilfrid nodded his head and smiled. “You must be hungry. I’ll have Genevieve bring you food.”

Genevieve came daily to feed me, and Michael would sometimes accompany her with Shisa.

Michael reminded me of my son Aaron who also loved animals. Aaron had a hard time at school because he preferred to daydream rather than listen to his teachers. He proclaimed he’d grow up one day to be the world’s best astronomer and build a space vessel that would take him to explore new worlds. I could understand his escapist mentality because I had that as well, always wanting to be somewhere other than where I was, especially now. For eight weeks I did nothing but sleep, eat, and speak. When I was alone, I occupied my time composing music. Without paper or a holologue, I pictured the musical staff in my head and mentally drew in the notes and rhythm as I heard the melody. I forgot half the music I wrote, either because the piece didn’t interest me enough to remember or I was interrupted.

While in the middle of composing a song, Wilfrid entered with warm stew just out of the kettle.

“Where’s Genevieve?” I asked.

“She’s not feeling well today.” Michael came in with some freshly baked bread and handed me a piece.

“Is it serious?” I asked.

“She’s fine. It’s only the coughing illness that’s common to this season,” Wilfrid said.

“Can I go to the river, Grandfather?” Michael asked. “I’m done with all my chores.”

“Be back before dark.”

“Don’t worry…I got Shisa to protect me.” Michael hurried out.

“Can I get you anything else, Damon?” Wilfrid asked.

“How about some company?”

He sat on the bench. “Getting restless?”

“Since the attack,” I laughed. “Tell me about Littlefield.” I tore off a piece of bread, dipped it into the stew, and took a bite.

“My grandfather built this bungalow with his own hands. This was meant to be the only one, but other people came, and he built more.”

“How is it that we speak the same language?”

“My grandfather was originally from Unity.”

“What color was he?”

“The same one as me.” He shook his head. “Strange question.”

I laughed. “I meant his position. All of us are designated a color which identifies what class we’re in. Orange is the service class; yellow, the artist—”

“Ah, I understand. My grandfather never spoke of his past.”

“Not surprising. Most people who leave Unity prefer not to talk about it.”

“How about you?”

“I’d rather meet up with my attackers for another thrashing.”

“That’s why I told Genevieve and Michael never to ask about your provenance. My grandfather once told me a man keeps silent about where he comes from when he wants to forget.” Wilfrid got up. “I must go now. Tranquil time is almost over, and I have some chores to do."

“An elder’s job is never done.”

“Truer words have never been spoken to me,” he said with a smile and left.