What say you?

P.s. Yes, I know about “it’s”…

- Chapter 5

Joe also had the clear feeling that someone… or something… was watching him, following him just out of sight, across the river.  And he would have been scared, but his surroundings were becoming more and more beautiful with every step.

In a short while, he came across something that was both unexpected, and perfectly suited to this place.  Stretching over the stream was a small, delicately curved bridge, made of cedar and bamboo, with a lattice overhead capped with copper, and some kind of vine woven through the lattice.  Joe marveled at the perfection of it’s construction, and of course he had to wonder

What the heck is that doing way out here?

He took a hesitant step onto the bridge, testing it’s strength.  It was a solid as stone, and Joe realized that whoever had built it had likely come back over the years to maintain it.  He looked up to get a closer look at the lattice, and saw that the copper end caps were all connected to each other by finely woven copper wire, meeting in the middle in endless knots, like the ones his parents would bring back from China when he was young.  Wrapped in the center of each knot was a different gemstone or crystal, some of which he recognized:  Lapis lazuli, jade, amethyst, fluorite, malachite, coral, hematite…  his father had a collection of rosaries from many different countries, and had taught Joe the significance and properties of many of the stones.

And then he noticed that the vines woven through the lattice weren’t just any vines, but

Wait…  are those…  Kiwis?

He reached up and grabbed one of the rough, hairy brown fruit.  It came free in his hand with hardly a pull.  It looked to be perfectly ripe.  Joe dug his thumb in the side, and the skin gave way to a lime-green flesh.  Joe touched his wet finger to his tongue and  (sound! Smell! Taste! Touch!)

Wow.  That’s the best darn kiwi I’ve ever had!

The perfect amount sweet, perfect amount of bite.  Joe stood in place and ate five more of the delicious fruit, looking at the reflections of the trees and sky.  Then he remembered where he was and what time it was.

Okay…  I’ll just walk a little ways more, but if I don’t see anything, I’m turning around and booking all the way home.  I think I’ll just make it for dinner.

He stepped off the far side of the bridge.  Even in the early dusk, the landscape was twinkling and alive.  The further he went, the more signs he saw of intervention by…  whoever.  There were crystal windchimes hanging in the trees; hand-blown multi-colored glass birdhouses and bird feeders; amethyst and rosequartz clusters half as tall as he was; large rocks and stumps carved into benches; even statues, covered in moss, but still recognizable to Joe, whose parents had shown him numerous examples:  Quan Yin, the Goddess of compassion; Buddha Shakyamuni, the historical Buddha; Saint Francis, Jesus.

There was no way Joe was going to turn around now.  This was all way too odd.

In another few steps, Joe came to a large, hand-carved gate.  The letters and pictures carved in clearly told a story, but Joe had no idea what it was.  It looked to be Chinese or Japanese, but Joe didn’t know for sure.

I just hope it isn’t some kind of death threat, ‘cause I’m going in.

Joe knew it wasn’t a death threat…  It felt too light there to be anything bad.  He pulled on the large crystal knob at the center of the gate and it swung easily open, as though it had just been built, though it looked ancient (don’t repeat things already know [old]).  When he stepped through to the other side, he found himself on the end of a long and somewhat narrow Zen rock garden.  It was perfectly still, cleanly run-through and shaped by a bamboo rake, with a naturally placed, moss-covered boulder here and there, most of it surrounded by black bamboo.  Joe could barely move.  He felt as though his very breath would ruin the effect.

I wonder if this is some kind of hidden monastery?  Maybe I’m the first one to find out about it!  Maybe…  Maybe they’ll take me on as a disciple!  Maybe…

Joe was easily lost in daydreams, and now was no exception.  He would be a man soon, right?  Why wait to follow the true path?  His grandparents would probably give their blessings.  Then he would be one of the chosen ones, and he could help bring peace and harmony to…

And then Joe was snapped from his fantasies by a familiar sight:  at the far end of the rock garden, the Shiny One was standing, staring straight at Joe; only now there was no hesitancy, no fear, no eagerness to run.  Joe knew this was a showdown of sorts, but he had no clue what to do.  Would the Shiny One pull out a laser gun?  Would energy beams shoot from it’s hands?  Would it be battle of mind-control?

Without warning, the Shiny One ran towards Joe at lightning speed.  The first thing Joe thought, quite absurdly, was

He better not mess up the sand.

But when he looked, he was flabbergasted:  Somehow, just like his hero Kwai Chang Cain from Kung Fu, the Shiny one was moving across the sand without barely leaving a mark…  and more than that, it was doing cartwheels and flips, almost like an Olympic gymnast.

Joe was way out of his league, and he knew it.  The one thing he remembered was something his mom had taught him long ago, something she had learned from one of her teachers in the East;

There is nothing more dangerous or more futile than fear.  We color our world with fear, and because of this, we experience great misfortune.  If only we are able to master our fear, we can master any situation, and even rearrange the fabric of reality.

So Joe did what he had been training himself to do since he was old enough to know better:  he stayed almost perfectly calm.  He tried to think compassionate thoughts towards his aggressor.  It was hard, considering he was just about to mess his pants, but he knew he had no other choice:  the Shiny one had him outflanked and outgunned on all fronts.  Joe stood his ground and waited for the inevitable.

The Shiny one closed the gap between them with astonishing speed, a quickness that Joe was almost sure was not of this earth, bounding over the boulders in it’s way, pushing off with the slightest touch into double twisting flips, landing backwards, rolling and boosting skyward again, until it was no more than ten feet from Joe.  With one last push, the Shiny one flew higher than ever, then landed solidly in front of Joe, feet planted, unmoving.

Joe simply did his best to keep his calm, which he did admirably, considering death was staring him right in the face.  And now he could almost see the face of…  The face of…

Wait a minute…

Chapter 6

The further they walked, the more Joe wondered when they would come to some actual buildings.  Here and there were groups of kids fishing, setting off model rockets, looking through telescopes, swinging in the trees, walking tightropes, playing baseball or basketball… but there weren’t any buildings.  Anywhere.

Another thirty feet, and Joe had to say something.

“So where are all the buildings?  This place looks like the Lord of the Flies or something.”

“Buildings?” said Bert.  “Oh, you mean like a mess hall, and cabins for all the campers?”

“Well yeah.” Joe said, even though he really wanted to say ‘well duh!’.

Bert continued, a Mona Lisa-type smirk on his face.  “Oh, we don’t do things like that around here.  Your grandparents didn’t tell you?  This is kind of like a…  survival camp.  We just sleep on the ground under lean-tos made of branches.”

“What?!” said Suki, sounding like she’d been bit by a snake.

“Yeah, we bathe in the refreshing chill waters of the Puget Sound, and we eat roots and berries.  Every once in a while, if we’re lucky, we might catch a fish.  Or a chipmunk.”

“You’re not serious.”  Joe waited for the punchline.

“Yeah, here… I’ll show you where everyone camps.”  They stepped out into a large clearing.

“Watch your step, now,” said Bert.

They came to a stop on the top tier of what looked like a series of giant steps leading down the hill, like the pictures of terraced vegetable gardens from Cambodia Joe’s mom had shown him .  Each terrace was about thirty feet wide and two-hundred feet long.  They were somewhat hard to make out, because they had been heavily planted with local groundcover, including salmon berries, Joe was happy to see.

“But you’re joking, right?” he said.  ” I’m not going to sleep on the ground.  I’ve done that enough to last me the rest of my life.”

“Yeah,” said Suki, “me too.  This is total bunk.”

Joe stepped up to the edge of the top terrace and looked down.  Directly underneath him was a mess of vines crawling straight up the terrace wall, covering it.  And then something completely unexpected happened:  The vines below him parted, and a young girl stepped out, as though from behind a waterfall.   She walked out on the terrace below them, checking to see if any berries had started to sprout yet.  Bert called out to her.

“Hey Cindy!”

Cindy startled.  She turned around and smiled, seeing Bert.

“Bert!  You jerk!  You scared me!”

“Sorry darlin’.  Hey look.  Fresh meat!  Cindy, this is Joe and Suki.  I was hoping you could show them how we sleep in the dirt and eat chipmunks.”

Cindy wrinkled up her nose.

“Sick!  What are you talking about?”

Bert laughed out loud.  “Just foolin’!  We’ll see you in a little bit.”

Cindy looked at Bert like he was off his rocker, then she disappeared back to wherever she came from.  Bert stood there for a few minutes, smiling like a jackass in the sun.  Then he turned, and with a little skip, walked over to a tree and pressed a knothole in its trunk.

“Now, don’t get used to this…  we like to see everyone get their exercise, but when you’re first moving in, well…”  Right behind Bert, the sod started to move skyward.  “…we can use the utility elevator.”

Joe and Suki were awestruck to see a large metal box rise up out of the ground next to them.  They stood there for a few long seconds with their mouths hanging open.

“What, you never seen an elevator before?  Come on, lets get you settled in, then we can start goofing off.”

Bert stepped into the elevator.  Nobody moved for a second, until Bert motioned them forward.  Joe stepped first, followed by Suki, then Mary and Russell.  Bert pressed a button, the doors closed, and they descended into the earth.

The glass walls of the elevator gave them an unimpeded 360 degree view.  The inside of the place was huge, and each floor opened up wider and wider.  The floor and walls were designed to look like the inside of a cave, made of cement stained a rusty brown.  There were heavy iron and stainless steel support beams everywhere, so much so that Joe thought even a direct hit by a missile wouldn’t do much to disturb things.

Down deeper through the floors, they passed through a psychedelic lightshow, huge batteries of oversized flatscreen computer moniters flashing different-colored bodies of text and symbols.

Bert spoke up, sensing everyone’s curiosity.  He stopped the elevator.

“You all know about chaos theory, right?”  most everyone nodded, pretty well unable to speak from sensory overload.  “Well this is…  kind of a functional art project.  We’re hooked up into all the networks in the world, looking for…  well…  we’re not entirely sure what we’re looking for…  but we’re monitoring research in all areas, all disciplines, from science to religion and everything in between, looking for patterns, and…  well, it’s just…  you’ve heard of the Hundredth Monkey?”

Joe shook his head.

“No?  Well that’s a surprise…  we’ll talk about it later , but… we’re looking for meaning where there may appear to be none.  Patterns show up in all natural and man-made systems, and so…  we hope that we can learn to interpret a new language of symbols that we’ve been learning, and so help people on a large scale.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” said Suki.

“You know,” said Bert, “we.  Us.” He smirked like he was hiding something.  “Anyhow, let’s move on.”

He started up the elevator again, and they sank to the next floor, which was all warm wood and bright colors, with textiles on the wall from Guatemala, Thailand, Japan, Africa…  there were life-sized statues from many countries and religions adorning the halls.  Joe could see quite a few kids running around between what looked like dormitories.  For being basically a giant cave, it was well-lit, with the giant vine-covered windows and strategically placed mirrors bouncing light evenly throughout the place.

Through the next floor, they came into a huge cavernous space, an auditorium with hundreds of seats.

“Yep, this is where we do the camp plays and skits.  You know, Kumbayah and ‘who stole the cookie from the cookie jar’ and all that.  Sometimes we watch documentaries or we have guest speakers from everywhere, all kinds of environmentalist types, sometimes famous folks come up from Hollywood with their latest cause du jour.”

Joe and Suki turned to each other at the mention of Hollywood.

“Are you going to have Leo here?” said Suki.

“Leo…  oh, yeah…  Well, you never know, right?  Maybe even someone more handsome than him.”

The next floor down was even bigger, and was split up into a dining hall and different arts and crafts spaces, but not just your usual boring stuff…  iron working with forge and hammer, Sumi painting, woodworking, jewelry making…  also science and physics labs, with what looked to Joe like pretty up-to-date equipment.

Bert stopped the elevator.  “So I think I can safely say you guys aren’t going to be bored here this summer.  What do you think?”

“It’s…  pretty cool,” said Joe, trying it play it cool.

“Yeah,” said Suki, “it probably won’t be too bad.”

“Great.  Glad to hear it.  So…  I’ve got to go get set up for the orientation meeting, and,” he sent the elevator back to the dorm level, “I’ll let you guys get unpacked.  We’ll let you know when we’re ready.”

“There he goes with that ‘we’ stuff again,” Suki whispered  to Joe.

A  small group of kids appeared, and showed each of them to their rooms, Joe to the boys’ dorm, Suki to the girls’, and Mary and Russell to the teacher’s.

Let me know what you think!

CHAPTER 14

“Papa… you know I want nothing more than honor for our family. I… apologize. I will work harder with Isaac to perfect this suit.”

Elias snorted.

“Perhaps it would be better if you didn’t help him at all.”

More silence.

“You will never forgive me for my past mistakes, will you, Papa?

The old man turned his head and closed his eyes. He opened them to find his tabby, Nikola, sitting in the middle of the room, watching him. He jerked his head back to the phone.

“I go now,” he said. “Make things right.” He hung up, leaned back, and stubbed out his cigar.

Elias’ living room was a junk trap, filled with the spare parts of years’ worth of half-finished projects: glass beakers, electrodes, banks of switches, gemstones hung in copper mesh, brass tubing; an assortment of taxidermy including crows, wolves, lizards and mountain lions, and– taking up an entire corner– a fearsome, many-armed statue. Its eyes stared straight ahead; wrathful and crazy, the whites were visible all the way around. Its tongue stuck straight out, covered in what looked like congealed blood. Dismembered heads hung from its belt, all manner of weapons clutched in its hands. Underneath its feet lay crushed and suffering creatures of every ilk, both man and beast. Out in front, on a low wooden plinth, sat bowls of water, rice, candles, sweets, and carefully arranged flowers. It was the only area in the apartment that wasn’t covered in dust.

Elias struggled to his feet and grabbed his cane. He shuffled a few inches and stopped. Looking down at the knobbly piece of bamboo that had supported him for the past fifteen years, he sneered– and threw it across the room. He willed himself over to the statue and knelt on an embroidered pillow at its feet. Hands together at his heart, he closed his eyes, whispering soft syllables in rhythm, in melody.

He emptied the water-filled bowls in turn, wiping each one dry with the care of a surgeon. He set them back in place and, retrieving a crystal pitcher from a small table next to the statue, refilled them with clear, fresh water. Sitting back on his haunches, he smiled as though his own father were patting him on the head.

From a hidden drawer in the table, he removed a long suede bundle. He unfurled it layer by layer, revealing the polished bone handle and golden sheath of the knife inside. The blade flashed in the light that struggled through the windows.

With a slow, methodical pull, he sliced open the meat of his right palm. Blood flowed warm and free over his hand, dripping into the bowls below him. He stood still for a moment. The sound of his breath filled the room. He smeared a fresh layer of gore on the statue’s tongue. He closed his eyes and brought his hands together once more at his heart. The ancient, unused riverbed of his tear ducts produced tiny, discolored beads in the corners of his eyes. This time, the sounds that came from his mouth were clear:

“Please, lord…”

Drop after anemic drop fell from his palm into yet another bowl at his feet– a bowl fashioned from a small, upturned human skull.

Nikola watched, unblinking, from his spot on the floor.