The Manu's hint on perdition had frightened the Atlanteans. But his referrence to situations that could stop the manifestation of their doomed future seemed to allay their fears. They realized imminent danger could be averted depending on their indulgences or their willingness to stick to the divine order of things. Still, in spite of their claims to spirituality, Tonka knew they lacked the basic understanding of how to stop their glide towards the precipice.
“And I see all kinds of misdirected snares from some of you," Tonka Manu went on. "What's the meaning of all these clandestine moves some of you are making? What are they up to really? As you might have noticed, power isn't a wrong thing to desire if it's of the divine. But if you don't know the purpose for which you desire power, then it becomes dangerous even to you, the possessor. There are some amongst us who have weird and over-exaggerated aspirations, and that is putting it mildly. When put in proper perspective, these aspirations speak volumes of a warped spirituality. Such intentions encourage hatred, irreverence for constituted authority, and debauchery.
“What is the scheming about?” Tonka Manu demanded again, swivelling around on his throne. “None of you knows how Atlantis came to be the great expanse of civilization which is our pride this day. And none of you has the faintest idea of how things would be as we sail this divine boat into the next dawn. Even if you have the right glimpse into the fragile future of our civilization, you'd still be too ill-equipped to predict the timing of coming events.
“This being so, why don't we just hang our gloves and call off this war of attrition? Do they think – I mean those in the league of schemers – do they really think that things will always be manipulated to their advantage? How about divine intervention? We often kid ourselves with our perfidy, not realizing that divine intervention puts our silly whims where they belong. The amazing aspect of man's gumption is his folly of not acknowledging apparent limits. I’m here, not because I chose to be, but because there's a reason. We’re all gathered here for a transcendental cause. I’m here to ensure continuity in this human experiment, whether we decide to blow ourselves up one day. My duty here as a spiritual patriarch transcends human limits and no drive of ambition can tinker with it.”
Tonka's voice rose again. "Take it or leave it, there'll always be someone to continue with what has been laid down, should this civilization flop suddenly. But I really can't vouch for any of you schemers. I just can't say whether you'd be blessed to cross this bridge into the new world. The way I see it, the new world is here already. But it saddens me that these people who think they are the smartest of the bunch just might not see it happen."
Tonka paused and smiled as if he had not dazed the audience with the force of his words. "We’ve spent a worthwhile half-hour,” he began to conclude. “You made my day with your presence here. We carry with us profound blessings and lessons that will endure the test of time. I'm honored by your presence and I'm tempted to indulge you a bit. Why shouldn’t we stay on, with nothing on our minds except the great joy of being alive? Yes, you know, let’s enjoy this bliss we experience forever. Let’s bathe ourselves in it. Let’s put on the cloak of spiritual freedom. I believe the Holy Realm Band is prepared to give us blissful tunes. Manu Square has enough rooms, food, and fruits drinks for us all to feast for whatever length of time we want. Everyone would be catered for because you've already provided the means.”
A solitary applause reverberated from the auditorium's main floor, prompting others to cheer too. The Atlanteans knew Tonka had a delightful character, but could not interpret his sudden sway of mood. His manner of speech showed that something roiled in his mind, which he only knew, and which he had tried to prise off his chest for what it implied: their doomed future.
"I feel much better seeing the smiles back on your faces," Tonka warmed up. "This is the mood I often want to see on you. Now, you'd excuse me for some privacy. I'll leave for the penthouse any moment from now. My brief absence in your midst shouldn't disrupt your peace or fun. Have a wonderful time. As I take my leave, I want you to think this over: you're the potter of your future. Mold that unique clay. Do everything you can to protect the model of your mind and greatness from the storm of time. See you again, and soon!"
Tonka bowed as he rounded up his mixed bag of pep talk, recrimination, admonition, and nostalgic flights. The audience bowed in return, applauding. The Holy Realm Band struck up a recessional number that drowned the cacophony of "Long live Tonka! Long live the Manu!"
Tonka Manu rose from the throne, nimble like a kite, and stepped down the stern of his marble ship. The massive audience sang and danced even with his exit, unaware of the twisted wheel of fate hovering overhead, threatening to stampede them few swirls away.
# # #
Disk Center, Blackhole
The screens of the Disc Center's Command Module first displayed an indescribable blur. It then brightened out, revealing the apparent emptiness above Atlantis' orbit. The focus of the Command Module’s lenses went beyond Atlantis to encompass the other planets and its immediate galaxy, roaming still farther away to distant celestial structures in the Milky Way.
The occupants of the Disk Center observed with keen interest these scenes as common sights in Atlantis and their other playToys. One of them, however, saw the slides flickering out before him as out of place in their scheme. Of all the Manus sent to the PlayToy from the Disc Center in the past eon, Finia's burden weighed the most. His task: to nurture the seeds of the new humanity envisaged by the Guardians. Never the type to get angry over a tasking situation, Finia had tackled the obstacles against the mandate with great success.
Ramune knew this much, to his chagrin. The source of his worry was not Tonka’s anger as seen earlier on the Command Module screens. The privilege of foreknowledge, however, warned him of an impending unilateral decision from Tonka. Ramune believed that giving Tonka a free rein might disrupt their plans for Atlantis.
"What would you call that, a Swan song?" Ramune demanded of Hemse, his companion who had riveted his attention to other flickering screens on the Command Module. Ramune half-turned away from the screen with a queer grimace, glancing at Hemse. "We might just be heading for a crisis down there on that globe. All is not right on Atlantis. I figure Tonka, our Finia in Blackhole, has had it to the hilt."
Hemse grunted. "What's it you say?"
“There's fire beneath Finia's seat and he's getting worried by the look of it,” Ramune stressed.
“Oh, that! He's been under the hammer for quite some time, say some eons of Atlantis’ time and I haven't seen him get riled up. That doesn't translate to a crisis to me," Hemse replied.
This is unlike a Blackhole member, Ramune thought. Isn't our preoccupation the kneading of the strands of the universe into a harmonious web?
"Don't humor me on a topical issue like this one, Hemse," Ramune snapped. "See the heat on the smiling face of Finia and read the conspicuous writing on his mind sheet. You'd know the fire beneath is burning him real hard. Do you still tell me there’s no crisis?"
"Our red print for planetary intercession and realignment confirms the contrary," Hemse responded with a wry smile. He rose from his seat and approached Ramune at the other end of the Command Module. “I believe Finia has enough Blackhole sanction to want to unduly exercise his prerogative," Hemse explained as he perched on the arm of chair next to Ramune. "Why do you suppose we've got a turbulent sea in our little tea cup, Ramune?"
“Roll back the last thirty swirls of the slides on the main screen," said Ramune. “Listen to the Swan and its song of passage and you'll get a pretty good idea of what bothers me.”
How interesting the joke has become, Hemse thought. He abandoned the chair and walked to the center of the Command Module and thought-punched a few keys among a myriad. The main screen blipped and a still slide came on.
"Here you are!" Hemse beamed. Going back or ahead in time on the Command Module, excites him l
ike a hen tingled by soft wind. The Disk Center's monitors unravelled the cosmic system like a chessboard. He loved the idea of tossing the pawns of the cosmic drama back and forth on the time screens. Here is another hill to climb, he thought. "What's the next move on the board?" Hemse asked.
"Get the slides moving," Ramune ordered, coming to terms with Hemse's joke.
"Sure." Hemse thought-thumbed another key and the screen came alive. Let’s toss the pawns of this game backwards this time, he hummed under breath, grinning.
"And do listen to Finia's valediction and the change of mood," Ramune goaded.
"Understood."
The marble ship of the Divine Theatre zoomed into clear view with its enchanting star top. Finia sat on the throne addressing a large audience as they had earlier seen. Both his voice and temper were aflame.
The companions heard Tonka loud and clear: “We often kid ourselves with our perfidy, not realizing that divine intervention puts our silly whims where they belong. The amazing aspect of man's gumption is his folly of not acknowledging apparent limits. I’m here, not because I chose to be, but because there's a reason. We’re all gathered here for a transcendental cause. I’m here to ensure continuity in this human experiment, whether we decide to blow ourselves up one day.”
Hemse now acknowledged Ramune’s reference point. He concentrated more on the screen and the aural import. Ramune eyed and quizzed him in silence.
“My duty here as a spiritual patriarch transcends human limits and no drive of ambition can tinker with it," Finia resumed, his voice rising. “Take it or leave it, there'll always be someone to continue with what has been laid down, should this civilization flop suddenly. But I really can't vouch for any of you schemers. I just can't say whether you'd be blessed to cross this bridge into the new world. The way I see it, the new world is here already. But it saddens me that these people who think they are the smartest of the bunch just might not see it happen.” Tonka Manu paused.
"Cut the slide right there," Ramune said.
Hemse obeyed, glancing at Ramune who was now standing beside him, with his hand on Hemse's shoulder
"Any strange clue to the little puzzle?"
"I get what you mean,” Hemse said searching into Ramune's eyes. A sign of concern creased his forehead. “I'd glossed over it somehow. Do you really believe he would pull the plugs soon, even against our sanction?"
"Likely not. But even if he does as we perceive already, there's not much gagging we can give him. Remember he is part of the Blackhole. He's got some latitudes of operation. Our interference is minimal. We would have no choice but to bring him back to order only if he goes out of control.”
"How soon do you think that'll be?"
"It depends on the twist of his mind," Ramune replied in a low, husky tone. “You know that the Blackhole and Atlantis are two different institutions, though interrelated. One is the source while the other is a servicing point. And each phase of the experience exerts its own kind of parallax. It’s much denser at the level of Atlantis. So, you can't be too sure of his reactions down there as compared to when he is in the Blackhole. But our sanctions work because as gardeners in this big terrain, we know just the right prune on our pretty flowers, and the right shades and water cultures to put in place."
Ramune laughed at his own reel of humor, patting the other Guardian. He was not the Father of the Blackhole but he knew enough to impress the other Guardians whenever they challenged his wisdom.
The pawns on the chessboard you often push around will garner enough power to give you more trouble than you possibly can handle, Hemse thought. "What must the Guardians do now that the storm is brewing?"
"Well, let him take his gambits and let's take ours. We will checkmate him whenever his moves get too fast."
"Which means?"
"Be keen on the watch."
What conflict of ideas? Hemse wondered. Seconds past, Ramune was worried because he had sniffed chaos afar on Atlantis. Now he turns into the vanguard of patience saying, we should do nothing other than keep a keen watch. I simply can't understand the Guardians - capricious beings!
"Watch! Watch! is all I hear around here,” Hemse lamented.
"That’s the best antidote. Guides against fatal impulse," Ramune joked.
"Fatal impulse you say? It might serve as a stitch in time, most especially, if the storm upsets the kind of patience you advocate."
Ramune threw Hemse a brief, shrewd glance and smiled. "You shirk your responsibilities too soon, and that's not in our character as Guardians."
"You drift too far, fellow Guardian," Hemse bantered.
"Then do remember, in articulating the tiny and intricate threads of the cosmic web, we have just one flashcard called patience. Else, we might soon make smithereens even of our own Blackhole." Ramune paused and then continued. "Every Blackhole member should be wizened by the pains and eons it took them to quicken the little globe into existence. Well, for later generations of Guardians, this knowledge is beyond them because they were not part of its making. But you should know this, Hemse. Maybe, not directly, but taking cue from your involvement in the past eon."
"You remember well," Hemse conceded. "No less than six billion swirls,” he recalled with pride. "It took the Guardians six billion swirls to construct our little playhouse. The manipulation of Blackhole radiation wasn't easy to condense to the form we see as the globe down there. It entailed diligent planning and execution with every atom of wisdom and gadget at our disposal. Every Guardian who witnessed the bombardment of ether upon ether at different temperatures - products of sun-stars split across the great sea and redistributed in gravitational cool-offs - would know that it has not been a game of billiards. Of course, the final phase of our plan shaped the energy fields on the globe of that moderate galaxy amongst an avalanche of galaxies. The streams of light became embodied in the forms of life we see there.”
Hemse added as an afterthought, "Though it took place in an eon past mine, it is common knowledge from the archives of the Disk Center. Any Guardian who has the time can tinker with our creations forward and backward for a true glimpse of the intricate strands of our universe."
Hemse eyed Ramune, triumph shone from his eyes. He enjoyed playing the fool at times as it made him come out stronger and wiser.
Ramune admired Hemse’s recount of the convoluted pathway of life on Atlantis but pursued his line of thought with more concern.
"Time," Ramune said with a comic undertone. "That's the watchword. The time to evaluate the boiling sea down there; the time to tame spurious impulses; the kind of time that gives the patience to watch keenly.
"And don't forget,” Ramune went on, leering at Hemse, “the Guardians are not bothered by the barriers of time and space. We are time itself and it gives us all the edge to reappraise our playhouse, taking nothing for granted."
At that moment, humming and mysterious like the inchoate beginning of the Blackhole, a translucent fiber door opened from the extreme right of the Disk Center's spatial confines. Guardian Numa walked in.
Ramune and Hemse sprang to their feet and bowed with reverence. The new entrant also bowed in return and went round a range of complex glass partitions that hedged the far left of the Disk Center. He concluded his brief tour by the Command Module, next to Ramune and Hemse.
"What's new on our puzzle play?” Numa asked. “Any jigsaw to fit in? Any strange meaning to all the fuzz about time and space I heard from afar?"
"Not much of a puzzle," Ramune replied. "It's something that has been with us for a long time. Our Manu in Atlantis seems to have embarked on an uphill ride again. From the look of things, he's getting worked up and impatient."
Ramune eyed Hemse as if pleading for some discreet understanding and then continued with his elucidation. "As to the issue of time and space you heard, Hemse thinks the Guardians are bunches of slow-witted ducks that watch thin
gs go out of hand. He believes our actions must be swift, decisive, and firm. I was just about straightening the little twist he saw in our obligations as Guardians. I wanted him to know, as a matter of fact, we tinkle the bell of time, so we can vacillate between its extremes. Of course, we are not boxed-up in space either."
"Either as slow-witted Guardians, or as decisive controllers of the cosmic paradise,” Numa said, “we are doing our duties the way it ought to be. Neither of you are wrong. The species across the constellation are such that sometimes we have to exert our control over their fate, and at other times, simply watch their slow awakening like ducks learning to swim."
Hemse envied the wisdom of the Guardian standing next to them. No wonder he is the Father of the Blackhole! The younger Guardians have a lot still to learn from this being whose existence defies our knowledge of the beginning itself, Hemse thought.
Whenever Numa – as all Guardians called him - appeared before them, he rendered the Command Module ineffectual by manipulating the events interlocking in the strands of the cosmic system. Fellow Guardians marvelled at him for this.
Ramune smiled in his inner recesses. Despite that he had been around for eons and had worked in consonance with the Father of the Blackhole, he still found Numa outstanding and mysterious. Ramune eyed Numa's broad, shiny wings fluttering behind his huge frame. A streaming cherubic robe, a gray shock of hair under a miniature golden cap, a thick, gray beard, and a ridge of salt-and-pepper moustache accentuated his handsomeness. The pretty golden sheen of Numa’s skin was deceptive, for he had witnessed innumerable eons.
Ramune noticed a slight stoop to Numa’s gait, which was far from senile, with a sort of smokescreen trailing his every step. The winged Guardians looked much alike. Ramune, however, did not remember his or Hemse's fluttering wings until his gaze fell on Numa's that vanished and reappeared with consistency.
Titan Race Page 13
