Unison (The Spheral) (55 page)

Sutara peered at me as the older version of herself had in my visions. “Listen and do nothing until the time is right, and you will save your friends.” She looked back at the water. “Then we will all be together soon.”

Tyrus got stronger every day, and news of my healing abilities spread throughout Middle Crest. Most of the conditions I healed originated in the nervous system. Whatever properties I emitted during the process didn’t work with bacterial infections. I had no idea why, and a COR scan failed to reveal anything new. I was forced to continue on faith alone, something I’d never done before.

Many of the locals identified me as another prophet, but I thought my ability to heal was part of the natural stage of evolution. I tried to explain I was an ordinary man, but no one believed me. They brought me gifts, cooked my meals, sewed clothing for me, and started construction on my own room. My pleas for them to stop failed. I gave up and let them believe what they wanted. As long as I was able to help people, what did it matter what they believed?

In the early spring, during a morning walk with Shisa, I passed some builders who were adding an addition to their home. When they recognized me, they ran over. Among them was a young boy who bowed.

“We build this shrine in your honor. What do you think, Master Damon?” he asked.

I thought back to the gypsy woman who read my palm during my third incarnation. I hadn’t thought about her reading until this moment.
You’re going to travel the world, find riches, and rule over a tribe who will worship you like a god.

The admiring faces that gazed back at me demonstrated how even a remote location couldn’t improve my character. I was still the same old slock who allowed himself to be imprinted by a collective ideal. My indifference was as destructive as my playing along in my first incarnation. I placed my hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You would honor me if you devote this shrine to all the people of Middle Crest.”

The boy nodded his head and smiled, freeing me from my role as a prophet.

While in the middle of packing my belongings, Tyrus came to my room. “I used to believe we weren’t worthy of rescue or salvation.”

“Salvation is nothing more than an ancient myth.”

“Maybe…but after you healed me, I saw new possibilities where I never had before. Whatever is happening to us is improving us.”

“Whoever you are, bring Tyrus back.”

“I never left—and thanks to what you showed me, I’m better.”

“I didn’t show you anything. My healing ability isn’t unique to me. It’s part of something that would show up on my brain scan and probably on yours and Sutara’s as well.”

“You ran several already. What did they tell you?”

When I didn’t answer fast enough, Tyrus smirked and pointed his finger at me. “Science will never explain what’s happening to us. Accept you can’t scrutinize everything with a diagnostic tool, and life will flow easier.”

“Okay Master Tyrus, impart the knowledge you received from your channeling of the Prime Wisdom.” I crossed my arms and smiled.

“I’m healed. What slocking difference does it make how you did or didn’t do it?”

“I’m a scientist. It’s my job to understand, to hypothesize, and to seek answers for life’s unsolved mysteries. It’s what motivated me since I awoke from my coma.”

“You may uncover some truths, but in the end, you’ll only find yourself with more questions. I found that harder to deal with than my illness.”

I thought about Socrates and how he demonstrated we could question our way out of any commonly held opinion. “The more I ask, the less I understand; the less I understand, the least likely I am to judge others.” I zipped up my backpack and looked at Tyrus.

“And yourself,” Tyrus said.

“You don’t miss much.”

“Are you returning to the cabin?”

“The hermetic life is what I need right now.”

“You’re not going to heal again?”

“You and I both know I’m not a prophet.”

“How do you know you’re not?”

“You and Sutara are like me.”

Sutara walked in. “No…we’re not, and you’ll eventually believe me.” She hugged me.

“I wish I could be what you want, Sutara.”

“Stop and listen to the animals like me, and you’ll know what to do.”

Sutara seemed as certain of her conviction as Wilfrid was of his, but I knew I wasn’t a prophet. I had to leave Middle Crest to avoid starting another religion. The world had enough of them already.

Vivek rode with me for several kilometers, and we stopped near the path that led out of the valley. I got off my mule and removed my camcorder from my pack.

“You took a picture here when we arrived, why take another one leaving?”

“A lot happened since then.” I took a picture of Vivek.

“I thought I would be leaving before you.” He jumped off his mule.

“Why not come with me?”

“I promised Suti I would stay until the end of summer.”

“You could always take her with you.”

“She will not leave because she wants to be here for her mother when she returns.”

“You have to appreciate her faith,” I said.

“It both inspires and saddens me.”

“She’s strong.”

“I know.” Vivek smiled at Shisa and leaned down to pet her. “Take good care of your master.”

“I’m no one’s master.” I looked at Vivek for a few seconds and pointed my finger at him. “Now I remember where I saw you. In my last incarnation I was at the central park in New Athenia. You came by and petted Shisa.”

“I will have to take your word for that as I do not remember.” He smiled. “Normally, that would not be enough for me, but after what I saw you do for Tyrus and the other villagers, I am willing to accept the possibility that we might have met before.”

“Sutara told me you didn’t think too highly of me back then.”

“Do not feel so bad, I do not think highly of anyone…including myself.” He looked at Shisa. “There are exceptions. Suti said I told her only your dog was worthy of an invitation to Middle Crest.”

“I would’ve agreed with you. Shisa is hard to compete with.”

“You are catching up.”

“I’ll be satisfied with a tie.”

I bid Vivek farewell and rode off with Shisa following close behind.

LAST NIGHT, STARLIGHT

O
n my way back to the cabin, I stopped at Littlefield. It was tranquil time, so I headed to the coop to visit the hens. Since raising my own, I gained a new appreciation for these social birds that now rivaled my affection for ducks—except for Gadfly. He remained my favorite until he stopped showing up at the pond three years later.

When I opened the gate, the hens scurried towards me, quickly joggling their heads forward and back. I smiled as I recalled the woman who referred to me as Bird Man.

“You have a way with the hens, Nomad.”

I turned and faced Wilfrid who just entered. “They know I like them more than people.”

“Your sarcasm fails to hide your compassion.”

“It also fails to hide my hunger.” I grabbed my stomach. “Is there any food left over from last night’s feast?”

“Even better than that. Genevieve has some venison stew on the pot, but I have something to show you first.”

I winced at the mention of venison.

“Is there something wrong with your face?” Wilfrid asked. “You always have at least three bowls of stew before anyone else has their first serving.”

Wilfrid led me to the supply bungalow, and I explained my involuntary transition to a vegetarian diet and how I’d gotten used to it. Since my return, I never regained the taste for meat.

Once inside the bungalow, Wilfrid opened a door to a tall cabinet where there was a row of hand-carved spears.

“When you told me about the bandits, I became very concerned over our security.”

“I warned Michael not to talk to strangers about Littlefield.”

“In case his mouth refuses to obey, we’ll be ready.” He handed me a spear with
Nomad
carved on the handle. It was the most heartfelt gift I’d ever been given.

“Carry this with you in remembrance of your loyal friends here,” Wilfrid said.

“I’ll come visit after each transport, and be back in time to fight by your side.”

“You’re a true friend, Nomad.”

Wilfrid smiled, and in that instant, I recognized him beyond his tangible identity. “You’re a Six.”

“Me? No.” He pushed his palm towards me. “It’s all in the cards. I’m just the interpreter.”

“Apart from your dreams about Nomad, have you ever experienced any visions that feel like memories?”

“Some nights I have these strange dreams. They feel as though they already happened, but—”

“Tell me about them.”

“I recently had one where you almost died after being attacked by two bandits on horseback. It seemed so real to me, but I knew it couldn’t be true. You’re not foolish enough to leave on a long journey after the shadow’s first cast.”

“I used to be.”

“It happened?” He laughed and pointed his finger at me. “You
are
the Nomad I’ve been dreaming about.”

“That makes four.”

“Four what?”

“Four who remember.” After I spoke these words, I felt a connection to something greater. Whatever we were a part of, I sensed it would make all my incarnations seem insignificant in comparison.