by Jacob Whaler
“Tell me about it,” Matt says.
A big smile swims across Tom’s face. “You ever heard of the freedom camps?”
“Sure.” Matt pulls some jerky from the bag and rips it in half, sticking one piece in his mouth. “I heard a bunch of them got shut down in California. Something about mass-producing bootleg dopamine rings.”
Tom shakes his head. “Not true. The authorities made that up. Used it as an excuse to attack the camps and close them down. Killed several hundred of the Children. It’s what we call each other. We’re all children of the Two.”
“The Two?”
“It just means our parents. The parents of the whole human race. The Mother and Father of all.” Tom turns to Matt and reaches out a hand to his shoulder. “That makes us all brothers and sisters. At least most religions have that part right.”
The darkness and constant vibration of the cab have already caused Yarah’s head to nod from side to side. As the pull of sleep wins its battle, her head collapses to the left and rests on Tom’s arm. Jessica starts to get drowsy, and Matt puts her head onto his shoulder.
“You got a nice little family here.” Another gentle smile spreads across Tom’s face, revealing a gap-tooth smile. “I can’t wait until the Two come back to visit their Family. It’ll be a glorious day.” His jaw moves up and down as he works the jerky in his mouth.
The transport slows down as it nears the summit.
“When is that supposed to happen?” Matt says.
“No idea.” Tom swallows a big chaw of jerky. “Could be a few months or a thousand years from now. Nobody knows for sure. But the Abomination will come first.”
“Now that’s a word you don’t hear every day.” Matt stretches his arms up to the ceiling and tries to arch his back to work out a few kinks. A week on the Great Appalachian Trail hasn’t prepared him for a long ride in a truck transport. “Abomination. Sounds like the end of the world. We’ve already had a nuclear holocaust. What more could happen? The sun goes supernova? Asteroids destroy the Earth?”
“I guess it’s a common theme in many religions. Nobody really knows what exactly the Abomination is. But we have a couple of hints.” Tom lifts his hand and stretches out an index finger. “First, it will cover the earth.” Another finger goes up. “Second, it will be a new technology, very tempting, very enticing. Everybody will want it.”
“That’s why the freedom camps stay away from hi-tech stuff, right?”
“You got it.” Tom leans forward, resting his elbows on the steering wheel. “A whole generation of people out there have grown up without jaxes and slates and bluescreens. When the Abomination comes, they’ll be ready to resist it. The only ones that can.”
The windshield of the transport flashes a transparent red. The words Construction Ahead and Reduce Speed light up across its glass surface. Tom reaches forward and touches the truck-com, and the transport starts to slow down. As they crest the summit, two yellow earthmovers work against the hill on the right. They have already carved away a fifty meter swath, exposing rich black soil and a mass of tangled roots. To the side of the construction, a large Shinto torii gate stands with its fresh coat of vermillion paint.
Matt gestures out the window. “So what does all that have to do with Shinto?”
“That’s the mystery.” Tom shakes his head. “Here’s what we know. Shinto is covering the earth. MX Global, the biggest tech company in the world, is providing financial support. They are the ones that came up with the new technology to clean up the radiation and fallout after the nuclear detonations. Rumors are that it’s made them billions and billions of IMUs. But beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Two words. Avoid Shinto.”
“Interesting conversation,” Matt says. “Mind if I nod off for a few minutes?”
“No problem.” Tom reaches out to the truck-com and changes the motor-tone so it sounds like a day at the beach with a rhythmic surf and seagulls in the background. “I’ll wake you up when we get to the restaurant.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
We’re getting through, he thinks. To some of them.
As they leave the construction site and head down the other side of the mountain, Tom leans back. The windshield goes transparent green, and the words End Construction play across it. Quickly picking up speed, the transport rolls down the hill, nothing but a broad, straight road ahead for miles.
“By the way,” Tom says. “I never got your name. You seem to know mine, but I don’t know yours.”
Matt looks up through sleep-weary eyes. “My name? Pretty generic. Matt Newmark. But I mostly just go by a nickname.”
“What’s that?”
“The Finder.”
CHAPTER 16
Miyazawa walks up transparent stairs into the ivory white transport ship. As he lifts each heel, the step left behind by his foot dissolves away, keeping perfect timing with his gait. At the top, he turns to face the masses gathered below. He stands at the point of a wedge-shaped slice of humanity that opens up and extends for more than a kilometer in front of him. Bowing deeply in their direction, he waits for the transport doors to slide shut.
As soon as the doors close, he slumps down into a waiting chair of thick cushions that envelopes and cradles him. An audible sigh breaks from his lips.
“Is everything all right, Master?” A concerned look crosses an assistant’s face on the other side of the cabin.
Miyazawa nods and reaches up to remove his black cap. “Just tired.” His eyes close, a signal that he no longer wishes to be bothered by conversation.
It is happening more frequently. The sensation that another is speaking through him. This time, it was in downtown Los Angeles at the first dedication ceremony to take place in a major US city. The old building at 400 South Hope Street had been razed to the ground, making room for a new jinja shrine. As part of the ceremony, Miyazawa spoke to thousands of the gathered faithful. But it had not been him speaking. It was the Other.
He tries to recall the words that slipped effortlessly from his own lips only minutes before. Words that he did not prepare or intend to speak. As he floats motionless in the chair, the words came back, like a vaguely recalled dream.
It is the work of Shinto to bring men and women together, one with Nature, one with each other. It is only when we are one that we find complete joy and contentment. For in truth, we are not separate, we are not discrete individuals. The experience of separateness is an illusion, an alternate reality that hangs over us like a thin film that masks the truth. Through the experience of Shinto, that film is brushed aside, like a curtain, to reveal what we really are. This, then, is the mission of Shinto. To help us tear away the thin veneer of consciousness that binds us to unreality. When our minds are opened to ultimate reality, it is then that we understand.
All in one, and one in all.
He tries to wipe the words from his memory, but they are burned into his awareness, made permanent like the vertical line of kanji characters carved into the single large stone that marks the front of his home shrine on the outskirts of Kyoto in southern Japan. Could it be that he has spoken the words before, on another occasion? He isn’t sure.
What do the words mean? He has no idea and no desire to understand.
But he had spoken the words. They had been streamed live across the Mesh to every corner of the world. Perhaps people will forget about them. For now, if anyone asks about their deeper meaning, he can give a mystical answer. But if he continues to repeat the words, they will shape the perception of Shinto, create expectations, require accountability.
So he will never speak the words again.
Never again.
As he sinks deeper into the chair, darkness calms his fears. Weightlessness fills his body. Arms and legs drift apart.
He begins to dream.
The darkness resolves into a broad plain of golden sand under a dome of light blue sky. A single tree stands in the c
enter of the plain. He is drawn to it. As he walks over the sand, he glances behind and sees no footprints. Looking down, his feet float above the surface. Lightness permeates his body. The dark outline of finger bones beneath the skin of his palm is visible. His body is saturated with a yellow glow that is visible even under the glare of an orange sun.
An outer robe like that of a Shinto priest hangs down his chest and back, but his feet and head are bare.
The tree is closer now, its enormous cherry blossoms as bright as fire. A massive tan trunk divides into three sections a few feet from the ground. From there, it opens out like the arms of a man, becoming ever smaller and vein-like branches until terminating in tendrils as thin as threads. Broad green leaves larger than his head float at the outer fringe of the tree, each turning its face up to absorb rays of nourishment from above.
Standing under the mighty tree and staring up, the song of each leaf hums over his head like a hundred thousand voices. His hand brushes the smooth surface of the trunk and senses the delicate vibrations passing up and down its length. He scans the lush growth, reaches up and gently brings a leaf down, pressing it to his ear. A single violin string rises above the symphony of interweaving melodies.
A clear voice speaks to him through the music.
All in one, and one in all.
Instinctively, he steps back from the trunk and brings his hands up to his face, palms together. He bows, allowing the tips of his fingers to brush against his forehead. As he closes his eyes, darkness descends. At the same time, the singing of the tree rises higher in his ears until it fills his consciousness. Like a wave ascending from the water’s surface as it nears a beach, the song moves up from the sand, through his legs and into his chest, swirling and shooting down into his arms and up through his neck into his brain.
His body becomes an instrument, and the music plays and resonates through it. It explodes from his skin, radiating out, filling the darkness around him.
When he opens his eyes, he is the tree.
From roots deep in the cool sand up to leaves opening to the sun, he senses it all. His voice is the voice of the tree, and he is singing the song he first heard standing below its branches.
As he sings, he looks out upon the golden plains. From every direction, as far as the horizon, multitudes of people move forward to the center where he stands. They come near, and he sees the looks of joy in their faces. Weeping and singing, arms outstretched, they pull toward him. When their fingers touch the smooth outer bark, he senses it on his own skin.
Kneeling down before him, the masses clap their palms together in front of their faces and bow their heads. Two young women dressed in robes of white stand up from the crowd and bring forth a shimenawa rope. Made of golden threads, it glistens and shimmers in the sun. Their delicate fingers string it around his trunk and bow before him. Once again, the people kneel down and worship the tree that he has become. Adoration and veneration flow from them like a flood of fresh water over dry soil. It reaches the base of the tree, surges through the fibers of the trunk, and passes up through the branches and out to the leaves. As it reaches a crescendo, glorious white cherry blossoms bloom above and below every green leaf, covering him like a robe of soft silk.
The people stare up. Their faces open into fresh smiles and rejoice, unable to withhold the emotions that break from their voices and the tears that stream from their eyes. Thousands of arms reach out to him. His consciousness expands until every beating heart and every breath is one within him. Their lips move in unison, repeating the words over and over, like a mantra.
All in one, and one in all.
Miyazawa looks up and wills it to rain. A gentle mist falls out of a cloudless sky. The masses raise their faces to the heavens and drink in the moisture, sweet as honey on their parched lips. Flowers bloom and grow on the sand and fill the plain with rich colors of purple, red and green. The people stand, refreshed and invigorated, and bow once again to the tree that he has become.
It is then than the realization finally hits him.
The voice speaking through him, the Other, is the Kami god, and he is one with it.
He is the Kami.
CHAPTER 17
The transport stops. Matt’s eyes flutter open. He looks to his left at Jessica and Yarah, both of them still asleep and comfortable in the cool cab.
“You’re him.” Tom stares at Matt. “You’re The Finder.”
“That’s what they call me.” Matt reaches into his pocket and brings out the Stone. “It all comes from this pesky little thing. Want to have a closer look?” He tosses it over Jessica and Yarah.
Tom catches it in his massive fist, and his eyes scan its surface as he turns it over and over in his hand. “Interesting. It’s just—”
“A rock.” Matt laughs. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I’ve tried telling myself, but it doesn’t seem to help.”
The big man hands the Stone back to Matt. “I’d heard that we have a new leader and that he’s hiding out in the mountains, but I had no idea it was here. The Children say they need to keep the location a secret.”
“The secret got out, and MX Global sent out a couple of combat ships. I should have known they were coming. Luckily, we all got away. Nobody killed.” Matt rubs his thumb over the uneven surface of the Stone. “But there were a few injuries among the crew that came after us.”
Tom stares at Matt. “I still can’t believe you’re him. The Finder. In my truck.”
“I know it’s a letdown.” Matt pats Tom on the shoulder. “I’m just a regular guy. No robe and staff. No sandals or miracle water. Nobody special. Just a kid in jeans and a T-shirt that found a rock while skiing up in the mountains of Colorado one day. I sweat and pass wind like everyone else. And I love your jerky.” He gets another piece out of the greasy bag and rips off a mouthful with his front teeth.
Tom laughs, and his generous belly bounces up and down over his belt. “I never thought I’d live to see the day that I’d actually have The Finder in my cab.” He shakes his head and looks down at Yarah. “And this is the little one that you picked up along the way. I hear she’s almost as amazing with her Stone as you are with yours.”
Yarah’s soft breathing, closed eyelids and long eyelashes combine to give her an angelic appearance.
“She’s better, actually, in lots of ways.” Matt chews and savors the hearty flavor of the dried meat. “Something about finding a Stone when your mind is still so young and undeveloped. She already had amazing natural gifts when I found her. The Stone just amplified them.”
Reaching out to the truck-com, Tom touches a small screen. “Still have a ways to go today.” The transport begins to descend the hill. Tom looks over his left shoulder, turns the wheel and enters the expressway. They move in silence until he brushes his finger on the screen. “Let’s try a mountain meadow setting.” The sound of birds and a rushing stream float through the cab.
For several minutes, they both sit in awkward silence.
Tom’s chest moves up with a deep inhale. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the plan?”
“The plan?” Matt looks out the window at the passing trees. “What plan?”
“Well, Shinto’s spreading everywhere. If the rumors are correct, MX Global has almost unlimited power to do whatever it wants. The Abomination is coming soon. You’ve got a plan to fight it all, right?” Tom motions outward with his big hands. “I mean, you can see the future. You know how it’s all going to work out. You have the power to stop it, right?”
Inside the cab, the sound of water and birds fills the silence as the transport shoots down the hill through a tunnel of green forest.
“I hear that a lot.” Matt bites down on the jerky and rips off another chunk. “Seems like I should have a plan. Plan with a capital P. Nice and neat. But the truth is, I’m not sure how it’s going to work out or whether it even will work out.”
“But I’ve heard the stories.” Tom cranes his neck to look squarely at Matt. “You’ve seen
Her. You’ve talked to the Allehonen. You’ve been to their world. You understand the Big Picture. Haven’t they told you what to do? I mean, with the Stone, all you have to do is ask, right? That’s your job, isn’t it?”
“Can you handle the truth?”
Tom nods vigorously. “Give it to me straight.”
“I’ve asked for a Plan. Over and over. Maybe I’m just lousy at my job.” Matt swallows the jerky. “But they haven’t given it to me. Not yet, not like that. I know the Allehonen are there, mindful of us, watching over us. I’ve felt the incredible love that flows through them and from them.” Jessica’s head slips forward, and Matt lifts it up and puts it back on his shoulder. “We are everything to them. They created us, put a part of themselves into us. But it’s not their way to control us. That’s been one of the hardest things to learn.”
“What do you mean?”
Matt turns and reaches into his backpack behind the seat, taking out a water bottle for another drink. “I’m not a preacher or a mystic. But I’ve seen things. And what I’ve learned is pretty clear. The Allehonen have two guiding principles that are reflected in everything they do.”
“Two principles?”
“Love and freedom.” Matt leans back and looks out the windshield. “And I don’t just mean freedom in the colloquial sense. They made us free in a deep and meaningful way. Free from their control, which is saying a lot since they are so powerful. Free to choose for ourselves. Then they made our world and put us here to grow and become more. That can’t happen if they impose their will on everything.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It is. There’s lots of risk when people are free. Wars happen. We turn each other into slaves. We kill each other. There’s suffering everywhere. Children die. Life gets messy.”
Tom shakes his head. “Then why do they allow it?”
“I wish I knew for sure, but it must be very important. I think that’s where the love comes in. They love us too much to take away the suffering, the potential to grow. But there’s more.”
