Dark Matter

by Luke Donegan

  “Will you endeavor to protect them always, and lead them from evil?”

  “I will.”

  “And above all, will you pledge yourself to upholding the Law, no matter what reason or arguments may tempt you to do otherwise?”

  Rhada nodded. “I will, Hearth-Father.”

  “Then I ask you to become Teacher of Ocean-Hearth,” he said.

  “Congratulations,” Jay said, taking her in his arms. “You will be a good Teacher.”

  “Thank you,” she said, pausing. “Jay, will you do something for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you tell the children a story tonight?”

  Jay breathed deeply. His last chance perhaps, to teach the children something true about life.

  “Yes, I will,” he said.

  There are two lands: the Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead. The Land of the Dead is a land of ashes and dust. Those who die before Passage go here. In this desolate place these unfortunate souls wait and hope that one day they will come to Passage and join the ocean of souls.

  In ancient times, the Land of the Living was called Ch’in. Ch’in was a broad land where bands of mercenaries and armies of animists marched and clashed in endless battles. Shih Huang-ti, a peasant boy, lived during these times. One day a scouting party from the bordering Sung province raided Huang-ti’s farm. The boy returned from hunting to find his home burnt to the ground and his family murdered.

  He wandered homeless. In the mountains of Nan-hsing-t’ang, while sheltering from a snowstorm he met a Dao. The Dao was an animist, a being who lived in perfect harmony with the laws of Nature.

  Do you know what an animist is? An animist is a creature that is part human, part animal. An animist has a human’s body, and sometimes a human’s head. But sometimes, in moments of passion, of fear, of excitement, an animist has the head of an animal. There was a time when animists lived amongst humans in great numbers, and, at times, both races lived together in peace. But those days have passed. And animists, if they are here at all, stay hidden behind human features.

  This animist, the Dao, had the body of a man and the head of a tiger. This did not frighten the boy for he had seen animists before. Once, an invading army out of the far north, beyond Hsi Hsia, had passed through a nearby village. These soldiers had the heads of bears, their jaws painted with the blood of their victims.

  The Dao and Huang-ti sat in the Dao’s cave warmed by a fire. The Dao listened while Huang-ti spoke of the death of his parents. The Dao, perhaps moved to pity by the tale, or perhaps motivated by something darker, made Huang-ti an offer.

  History is a collection of the tales of great people, the Dao told him. You can be a great person. I see your life and the memory of your life stretching on for thousands of years. You can bring this current cycle of war to an end and unite the warlord armies under one mighty empire. Would you like this? To be a powerful man? A man remembered for thousands of years?

  The boy nodded. He wanted to be powerful.

  But as with all gifts, explained the Dao, there is a cost.

  The Dao’s eyes glinted as his human face transformed into its tiger form.

  The sacrifice involved the loss of one life. Huang-ti could not choose which one. He may not even know the person. But at some moment in time, someone would die.

  Huang-ti pondered this choice. One life to unite the land of Ch’in. One life to save thousands. But to betray a life was to break the Law. Was there a condition under which the breaking of Law was justified for a greater good?

  He sat in the Dao’s cave for one month. Two armies met in the valley far below. Huang-ti watched the distant battle. Four thousand men died and their blood flowed along the valley floor.

  Finally he accepted. The Dao roared and Huang-ti returned to the valley. He found a roaming army and offered his sword to the commander. For five years he marched between the Yellow and Yangtze Rivers, as far east as the Yellow Sea and as west as the mythological lands of T’u-Po, white mountains above the clouds. He fought with great skill and was rewarded. Soon he became a leader of his own army. He was a fierce warrior, and a loyal and just commander. He killed a tiger, fashioned a helmet from its skull and a cape from its hide. He became known as Shih Huang-ti, the tiger.

  Huang-ti fought a great battle on the southern bank of the Yellow River. He was victorious. Free folk built the city of Ch’ang-an on the sight of his victory. From Ch’ang-an, Huang-ti introduced Law to the surrounding population. His code of rewards and punishments brought order and stability to the Ch’in province. The bordering provinces flocked to his rule and slowly Ch’in became an empire. Huang-ti built a great wall of stone to protect his empire from the savage bear people to the north. This wall was a hundred feet high and two thousand miles long. Even the bear people couldn’t break through.

  Shih Huang-ti was crowned first emperor of Ch’in.

  All he needed now was a wife to bear him a male child, a future emperor. Huang-ti walked with Sui-lin, the silk princess of Shu Pa, along the bank of a mountain stream in the Far West. She had black hair that fell in silken waves to her waist. Huang-ti proposed marriage beneath a pear blossom tree. Petals fell from the tree and flowed along the stream to the Yangtze River and out into the Yellow Sea. Fishermen on the sea saw the blossom petals floating on the waves.

  Huang’ti built a golden palace for his wife on the bank of the Yellow River. They ruled together for twenty years. One day, the Dao appeared on the river in a small boat and docked at the palace pier.

  The Dao ascended the steps of the Palace of Shih Huang’ti and was met by the emperor.

  Do you remember the deal we made years ago? asked the Dao.

  The emperor nodded. He did not begrudge the Dao, for the emperor was a man of Law. But he was unprepared for the terrible price that would be paid.

  You have built a great empire, said the Dao. You have brought order, security and long life to thousands of people. Now I must collect my one life.

  Which man will you take? asked the emperor.

  The Dao transformed into the animal and roared. No man will I take! And for a moment Shih Huang-ti’s heart rose.

  The animist reached for Sui-lin. He led her by the hand down the steps and into his boat, and together they drifted down the river and into the sea far away. Never again was the blossom princess seen in the Land of the Living.

  Grief stricken, the emperor became a hard ruler. He raised taxes until they were impossible to pay. Rewards were forgotten in his system of Law. Punishments were harsh. He donned his tiger helmet and marched north with his army. Beyond the Great Wall of Ch’in he sacked the kingdom of the bear people until every last animist was destroyed.

  The kingdom grew unstable as provinces broke away. As anarchy returned to Ch’in the emperor slept inside his empty palace and did nothing.

  One man remained faithful to the emperor. Lui Pang, a devoted general protected the city of Ch’ang-an from the warring armies. He sent food to the sleeping tiger and maintained law within the city walls. One day a servant girl carrying breakfast to the emperor returned in tears.

  He has gone! she cried. Lui Pang went to the empty bedroom and sat on the bed for a long time. It was true. The emperor was gone.

  Shih Huang-ti wandered the land and returned to the country of his birth. He climbed the mountains where he once met the Dao and crawled into the cave that had been the animist’s home. The emperor became a seer for the peasants who lived in the shadow of the mountains. He read their futures until, one day, a woman who brought him his daily meal found the cave empty.

  The woman said a prayer to the departed emperor. Then, as she turned to leave something caught her eye. On the floor of the cave sat a large egg. Polished and smooth, the shell was pink and flecked with gold. The woman approached the egg carefully. It was large, larger than the egg of any known creature. She carefully laid her hands to its surface.

  It was warm. Heat emanated from the egg as if there were a creatur
e of fire dwelling inside. What creature? she thought. What kind of creature can be made of fire? And why is it here, where the old man lay?

  The children were bursting with questions.

  “What was in the egg?” asked one.

  “A bird!” cried Jayda. “Birds come in eggs!”

  “Did Shih Huang-ti come back as a beautiful bird?” asked another child. “Did he fly across the ocean and find Sui-lin?”

  “I have no answers,” said Jay. “What do you think happened?”

  “I think Lui Pang would have searched for the emperor,” said one boy.

  “Lui Pang would have found the animist and cut off his head.”

  “I think it is sad,” said Grace. “Shih Huang-ti was a good man. But everything went wrong for him. He was tricked.”

  The Hearth-Father nodded at Grace’s comment. He thought she would make a good Scion-Teacher. “Not tricked, but tempted,” he suggested. “Corruption lay at the core of his power. A tiny seed of evil can grow into an evil that consumes the world. This story is a lesson about the Law. Can someone tell me what the lesson is?”

  A number of children raised their hands.

  “Yes, Ayodhya,” said Hearth-Father.

  “That you should not break the Law?”

  “Yes,” he said. “The Law should never be broken, not under any circumstances. Even for virtuous reasons. Why? Because breaking the Law allows evil into the world. This is what happened to the Emperor in Jay’s story.”

  Jay noticed that Hearth-Father now called him Jay rather than Teacher. The loss of his title hurt his pride.

  “Although he wanted to do good,” continued Hearth-Father, “he ended up causing more bad than he could have imagined.”

  “It’s not fair,” said a girl called Mai. “The Dao had an unfair advantage. He used magic.”

  “No he didn’t,” said an older boy. “Magic isn’t real. Like the men with animal heads. They weren’t real either. It’s just a story.”

  “They are real, aren’t they, Teacher?” asked Jayda. “Are there people with animal heads? Like the tiger man and the bear soldiers?”

  “Yes,” replied Jay. “None that we know today, but once there were many. The First People of this land were animists. There were emu people, kangaroo people, wombat people, and marsupial lion people. Many were murdered when New People invaded their land. In time they hid their animal heads and adopted human features. They lived among New People and spoke the new language. But they remained animists in the hearts.

  “Now, we have spoken of the Quark wars. These wars heralded the end of the Third Roman Empire. People went to war and nuclear fire slowly engulfed the globe. Aberration followed and, after that the age of Loss and Decline. The animists saw the forests disappear. They saw the rivers stagnate and dry. Much that had taken millennia to evolve was destroyed.

  “As the nuclear storms crept south towards our land the animists decided it was time to go. They unveiled their animal faces and returned to the desert.

  “Some people believe they still live there. Perhaps as animists they can live in conditions that we can not, as snake people and marsupial people. Perhaps they hide from the sun in holes in the ground. I don’t know.

  “Of course, our ancestors survived the Quark Wars, but only just. We lost the abundant life our world nurtured. And we lost the animists. While we have survived and are rebuilding our community, we can only hope that somewhere the animists are rebuilding also, and that one day they may return with forgiveness in their hearts.”

  Jayda waved her hand in the air. “Can I ask another question, Hearth-Father? Please?”

  “Of course.”

  “Teacher, what happened when the emperor’s Spirit left his body? Where did he go?”

  Jay looked at Rhada. “Teacher, why don’t you answer this question?” he suggested.

  Rhada started nervously.

  “The body and the Spirit are tied together in life,” she explained. “They are bonded, and yet one rarely catches a glimpse of the other. Mostly they co-exist in silence, but sometimes the body becomes aware of the Spirit, and these are times of great clarity. When you are peaceful, watching the ocean, or perhaps when you are thinking of a friend, in silence, in these moments you can know your Spirit.

  “As we live in the world,” continued Rhada, “and work and eat and grow, there is a whole other life within us and beyond us ... a parallel life. The life of Spirit.

  “Eventually, the body dies, but the Spirit does not. It passes from the body in a shower of golden light. What we call Passage. You have seen this, in the ants and the jellyfish, and even in the grass trees. All living things come to Passage, and while the body dies the Spirit passes to the ocean of souls. In the Teacher’s story, the emperor’s Spirit passed through the Land of the Dead and joined the great wind, the Spirit realm where all Spirits ride the wind together.

  “It is a fabulous knowledge for us to have. Knowing that beyond death, life continues, and that in the end we will find our friends again, and be together forever. This knowledge gives us hope, and helps to fend off the darkness that is sometimes our experience in this harsh world.”

  After the children were settled in bed, Jay and Rhada sat on the balcony of Ocean-Hearth and looked out across the dark water. They sat quietly for a long time, watching the ocean, listening to the low, rhythmic breaking of waves below. Starlight flickered across the ocean’s surface.

  Together, and in silence, they pondered the meaning of Jay’s story.

  Shih Huang-ti broke the Law, thought Jay. But I would not do what he did. I would not make that mistake. Whatever happens, we must avoid Aberration.

  And then, across the ocean they saw the faintest puff of golden light just beneath the surface of the water, a few hundred feet out from the cliff. They leaned over the balcony. After a few minutes they saw another puff of light, closer in.

  “Oh look. Look!” cried Rhada.

  Soon the puffs of light came in random succession, separated first by minutes and then by seconds. They knew what it was. A school of stingers, tiny jellyfish that swept in from the deep sea every few months. The stingers came in their hundreds of thousands, massive swarms that were the bane of swimmers unfortunate enough to meet them.

  These translucent creatures lived for only a few days, and in a school of thousands, Passage came for individual stingers across the population in rapid progression. Jay and Rhada watched as the golden dissolution of Passage lit the dark ocean like fireworks. The deaths of these creatures gave to the ocean below Ocean-Hearth a golden phosphorescence.

  Nature inspired hope of permanence. For in each explosion of light, these mindless, gelatinous creatures were finding their way to the Spirit realm.

  Rhada gripped Jay’s arm with excitement. The sea below erupted with colour.

  What Jay knew better than anyone else, because he had crossed the barrier between life and death, was that the world was fused together at the seams by Law. The world was a reflection of an even greater reality beyond that which he could see and hear and touch.

  But as he watched the explosion of light, something troubled him.

  All living things ascend, thought Jay. Was I wrong to take the position at the Museum? Should I have remained Teacher at Ocean-Hearth and eventually become Hearth-Father? Have I broken an unknown law by stepping aside from a preordained path? Is there to be a consequence? An Aberration?

  But in the beauty of natural ascension taking place below the balcony, it was hard to imagine what that Aberration could be.

  Chapter 3 FIRST DAY

  The purplish-blue light of predawn collapsed into earth.

  Jay woke nervous and rose early. He passed from the silent hearth into the morning, hoping the hour long walk to the Museum would calm him down. Dew collectors licked at the grass trees lining Ocean Road and the adjoining streets – small birds and insects lapping their daily drink. With dawn the rising temperature would drive most living creatures to shady hiding places.
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  He rounded the Science Dome and stood before the Museum’s entrance. Light - red, orange, yellow – suffused the eastern sky. Two miles away the buildings of the city’s administration quarter were black shapes against the sky. Beyond these, the desert stretched for three thousand miles. Behind him the ocean curved over the horizon, hidden in the black obscurity of night. Jay stood on the Museum steps, wedged between the desert and the ocean.

  Something is coming, he thought. I must be ready. When Passage comes. I must not have wasted my life.

  Jay climbed the steps to the foyer doors and entered the Museum.

  “Welcome Scion-Teacher,” said the Teacher warmly as she opened the door. “How do you feel? Excited?”

  Jay struggled to respond.

  “Come in.” She led him into the office. “You will be overwhelmed, of course. How long did it take you to walk, this morning?” she asked.

  “About an hour.”

  She opened the door to the Ocean Room. “Although you have chosen to live at Ocean-Hearth, this is your room when you need privacy. It was Erys’. He found the view of the ocean to be calming. I hope you will too.” The Teacher nodded towards a robe lying on the bed. “Put that on, and when you are ready, join me on the tatami so we can talk and get to know each other.”

  Jay closed the door behind her. Furnished simply with a closet and a bed, a window faced towards the west. Below the window the roof of the Nature Dome curved towards the beach. Beyond, the ocean filled the view, silent under the dawn light, sweeping towards the horizon. He took off his trousers and tunic and donned the robe laid out for him.

  A multi-coloured sash stitched into the fabric crossed from his right shoulder to his left side, there to remind him of the possibility of evil.

  “They fit you well,” said the Teacher as Jay joined her on the tatami. She added tea leaves to a bowl of hot water and passed the tea to Jay. “We will begin each day with tea and conversation, so our relationship grows. Are you close with your scion at Ocean-Hearth?”

  “Yes,” replied Jay. “We have been friends since we were small.”