Diffusion Box Set

by Stan C. Smith

  “I am so sorry for my appalling appearance. You must think I have become a savage.”

  She smiled. “Whatever do you mean, my love? You look perfectly dapper and trim, as you always do.”

  Before she even finished speaking, I felt a change come over my entire body. I looked down again and saw that I was now wearing my favorite waistcoat over the yellow linen shirt Lindsey had given me. Below that were tweed trousers and my waxed calf oxfords. I had nearly forgotten the sensation of clothing against my skin, and I found it to be rather confining, although certainly more appropriate for the situation. I then realized that I had forgotten all of this was merely a vision, so pleased was I in again seeing my betrothed.

  “Lindsey,” said I, “I do not know if it is truly you, or if you are nothing more than a lovely vision of my mind’s making.”

  She smiled again. “Do you like the flowers? I bought them from the flowergirl we often see on Whitfield Street.”

  “They are lovely,” I said.

  “She told me her name is Hattie. Did you know that?”

  Again I was already forgetting that this situation was not real. “No, I did not know her name. The poor girl seems very dear, though.”

  She walked to the piano and pressed only one key, D sharp, as she inhaled the fragrance of the flowers. She held her finger on the key until the note faded to silence. “I bought two bunches, but I paid her for four,” she said.

  At that moment I convinced myself I was indeed talking to Lindsey, rather than an apparition. After all, if she were a figment of my own making, how could she know the flowergirl’s name?

  “It is so good to be here with you, Lindsey,” I said. “My expedition has not gone well. I fear my collection has been lost, although I hardly had the opportunity to accumulate anything more than the most common birds and insects. And Charles, my assistant, has been killed. I will have to report this news to his family.”

  She turned to face me. “That is dreadful, the poor man. And I am sorry to hear about your collection. Perhaps you can begin again.”

  I stepped closer to her, and this time, rather than touching her face, I put my arms around her and embraced her tightly. Again I smelled her clove perfume. I spoke tenderly near her ear. “I do not know how this is possible, but I have been given the opportunity to speak to you, although I now exist in a pitiable state in the darkest jungle on the opposite side of the world. It is an opportunity such as no man has ever had before, yet I find it difficult to find the right words to say to you.”

  She whispered back to me, “You are here, Samuel. That is all that matters.”

  And with those words I became enraptured and set aside all of my doubts. Perhaps later, I thought, I could decide what to tell her and what horrid particulars to keep contained within my own memory. For the moment, all that mattered was that I was with her, and I continued embracing her for a good many minutes as we spoke in whispers about matters of little consequence. I was happier than I had felt in many weeks. However, this was not destined to last.

  When I finally released my embrace and pulled away, I happened to glance downward just as the collar of her bodice lifted away from her neck, and through the gap I had an unobstructed view down her front. But instead of gazing upon her undergarment and pale skin, I saw a strange blackness. I witnessed it only briefly, just long enough to determine that it was not at all what the cloth’s thickness and the angle of the window’s light should have revealed to me. It was strangely alarming to behold, and my doubts again began to grow.

  I gazed into her eyes and saw nothing peculiar there. But a seed of doubt and contempt had been planted in my mind.

  “Lindsey,” said I, “what has happened since I departed from London? My parents, are they well?”

  She smiled at this. “Of course they are well. They speak of you often.”

  “And what news of my brother, Owen?”

  Her smile nearly turned into a laugh. “You’re trying to trick me. I know you don’t have a brother.”

  She was correct on that matter, and the trick had failed. I then asked, “What news can you tell me of Prime Minister Disraeli’s cabinet? I imagine he has appointed men to all stations by now, has he not?”

  Lindsey gazed at me for a moment, but her smile did not fade. Finally, she laughed. “I’m sure you would rather tell me of your adventures.”

  I did not relent. “Please, I wish to hear of the cabinet and parliament. Tell me what has transpired. I insist.”

  She laughed again. “I would rather—”

  I interrupted her. “I insist, Lindsey!”

  Never before had I spoken to her in such a manner, but this did not dampen her mood. In fact, she laughed yet again. This supported my growing suspicion that she was no more than a fantastical vision, constructed from what I already knew of her, as I had never before seen her become angry. I was incensed by the possibility that she was not real, and rather than simply appreciating this gift the Lamotelokhai had given me, I became even more determined to drive her to anger. I wanted so badly for her to be real that I concluded that her anger would prove she was capable of something more than my own memories of her. Hence, I then said something that would infuriate any lady of civilized society.

  “I wish for you to remove your bodice and skirt,” I said. “Please do it immediately.” Upon uttering these words, I felt great shame, as I would never typically say such a thing to a member of the fair sex. I began to apologize, but it was too late.

  Still laughing, Lindsey removed her bodice and sleeves. I attempted to turn my eyes away, but then I could not, as the horror of what I saw before me caused me to stumble backwards and nearly fall to the floor. Rather than a typical cotton undergarment, as one would expect, below Lindsey’s shoulders was blackness such as I can scarcely describe. It was not the darkness of black cloth, or even of black velvet, but rather a blackness so absolute that I knew there was simply nothing there at all. She then removed her skirt, revealing more of the same infinite blackness.

  She took a step closer, and I backed away, quite horrified. Her head and shoulders were just before me, as were her hands, wrists, feet, and ankles. All else was simply an absence of anything at all. I could see only that which was in my memory. As was proper for a gentleman, I had never seen more of Lindsey than what I could see at that moment.

  She spoke as she came even closer. “Samuel, let us talk about pleasant things. Have you met interesting people on your journey?”

  I cried out and covered my eyes, as I could endure no more of this vision.

  When I lowered my hands and opened my eyes, I was once again in the hut of the Lamotelokhai. Sinanie was still there, frowning and watching me with interest. In an unpleasant state of distress, I told Sinanie that I intended no further experiments with the Lamotelokhai, and I hastily left the hut.

  After careful consideration, I have decided I must tell the Lamotelokhai to never again, under any circumstances, put visions into my mind, even if I request it. In fact, I may even ask if it can make me forget it is possible to speak to it at all. It is indeed a most powerful substance, but I have come to believe it is as dangerous as it is fascinating, and that it will bring great suffering to the world. Its rightful place is here, hidden deep in the wilderness.

  17

  May 26, 1868

  I wish to tell the events of today exactly as they happened, as I am in no condition to express meaningful comments regarding their implications. Perhaps in the coming days I can reflect on these events with some measure of objectivity.

  This morning I had resolved to visit the Lamotelokhai to demand that it never again put visions of any kind into my mind, which again I had determined to be necessary for my sanity. I fetched Sinanie, and scarcely had we climbed the ladder to the Lamotelokhai’s hut when we heard a great commotion to the north. Immediately I assumed the worst, and when I saw villagers carrying spears and running toward the commotion, I knew my assumption to be correct. The village was again being a
ttacked.

  Sinanie and I each were handed spears by the other men as we ran to defend the village. When we reached the source of the commotion, my worst fears were realized. The Humboldt Bay tribe had returned, this time with many more men. Although I did not see Penapul, at least thirty-five men and boys from his village stood shoulder to shoulder, advancing steadily as they grunted in unison. Including myself, fewer than fifteen defenders opposed them. Teatakan, Ot, and Korul were gone on a hunting excursion, and two of our men were already lying injured or dead on the ground. We were outnumbered by at least twenty men.

  The line of attackers, armed with spears and steel choppers, continued advancing one step at a time, and we had no choice but to yield. At this rate, we would soon be forced out of the village, and Penapul’s men would then overrun the huts and take from them whatever they wished, including the Lamotelokhai.

  Sinanie and Ahea were to my right. Matiinuo and ten other villagers were to my left. I looked at Matiinuo, and for the first time I saw fear in his eyes. I had learned enough about these natives to know that they did not fear death. The one thing they truly feared was failing in what they believed to be their primary purpose.

  Unexpectedly, another commotion arose behind us. It was a woman’s voice, a sound I had never once heard while living in this village. I turned around to see a woman tumble from the door of a hut and fall fifteen feet to the ground. A man from Penapul’s tribe began climbing down from the hut after her, but he appeared to be injured. The woman attempted to get up but could not. Suddenly, two other men were upon her, and they drove their spears through her body. I stared at her murderers, shocked from witnessing their brutal act. I then saw that one of them was Penapul.

  I cried out, “Matiinuo, they are attacking from behind!” In my haste, I failed to speak this in his language, but it was of no consequence because at that moment the line of invading attackers yelled fiercely and rushed forward, stabbing and chopping madly.

  Never before had I been faced with such a violent onslaught, and having had no experience whatsoever with fighting, I was nearly paralyzed with distress. Coming directly for me with his chopper was a man I had met at Humboldt Bay, by the name of Nabul. He had been kind to me then, and we had never quarreled, but now he clearly intended to slice me to bits. The only advantage I had was the length of my spear compared to that of his chopper, and so I thrust it at him to hold him beyond effective chopping range. As he swung his chopper at my spear again and again, apparently intending to hack it to a shorter length, several men beside me succumbed and fell. The attackers from each end of the advancing line then began circling behind us. They would soon overwhelm us, as no man could simultaneously fight enemies before and behind him.

  Sinanie cried out, “Keliokmo dimo!” Immediately the ten or so men who were still able to fight gathered together into a circle, facing outward. I recognized what they were attempting and inserted myself into their formation. This quick and coordinated action seemed to cause our attackers to pause. For a moment, all was strangely quiet and still.

  Our situation seemed to be hopeless, and during this brief respite, I determined that these men had to be stopped at any cost. They could not be allowed to take the Lamotelokhai, as this would most assuredly have dreadful consequences.

  “I must go to the Lamotelokhai’s hut,” I said to Sinanie. Again I neglected to use his language, as I was too distressed to form the correct words. I hoped that the word Lamotelokhai was sufficient to convey my meaning.

  I gazed directly at the attacker before me. “Nabul,” I said to him, “I am sorry.” I then took two steps forward and thrust my spear at his face. He stepped back, hacking at my weapon and forcing it to miss. Just as the men on either side of Nabul turned their weapons on me, the two men at my sides stepped out to engage them, giving me the opportunity to drive Nabul back even further. He tried desperately to counteract my thrusts, but I did not relent, and my spear punctured his cheek and glanced off his teeth. He retreated, holding a hand over his torn face, and I took this opportunity to run, leaving my companions behind to fend for themselves. As I ran, I saw Penapul and two other men attacking another woman, but rather than stopping to help her, I continued running.

  Much to my relief, Penapul’s warriors had not yet entered the Lamotelokhai’s hut. I climbed the ladder hastily, kneeled before the lump of clay, and put my hands upon it. As I did this I heard shouts of anger and distress from the fighting below.

  “I beg for your help,” said I. “Penapul has come for revenge. The men and women of this tribe are all going to perish if I do not do something. I know you have put your knowledge into these people, hence they are important to you, as they are to me. They are being murdered, all of them.”

  At that moment I was nearly overcome by the most dreadful visions in my mind, appearing at a bewildering rate. There was fighting and killing, with much bloodshed.

  “Stop, I beg you,” I cried. My thoughts were already jumbled. I had seen too much violence and had no desire to witness more, nor did I want to have a hand in murdering more people. “I do not wish to kill Penapul and his men,” I said. “Nor do I wish for Matiinuo’s men to kill them. But they must be stopped! Can you help?”

  Between my hands, a bulge on the clay began to rise. I could think of no other purpose for this except that it was forming there for me to take. So I pulled loose the handful of clay, descended the ladder, and ran. The woman I had failed to help lay dead upon the ground as I passed.

  Penapul and the other men who had attacked from behind had joined the main group and were moments away from completely overwhelming Sinanie’s remaining men. Only seven of our tribe remained. Matiinuo and Noadi were among the bodies strewn about at the feet of those still standing. When I saw this, great fury boiled within me such that my thoughts of a peaceable outcome turned to thoughts of revenge. I ran directly at Penapul, pulled loose a portion of the clay in my hand, and threw it. The clay struck him in the chest. He paused and wiped some of it off. He gazed at the clay in his hand for a moment and then looked at me and laughed, perhaps assuming I had gone mad. He turned his attention back to the battle. I then approached his men as closely as I dared and threw bits of the clay at them until I had hit every Humboldt Bay tribesman. As I was holding no weapon and was throwing what appeared to be harmless clay, the warriors ignored me and continued their onslaught. By the time I had finished this, only four of my companions remained standing.

  I did not know what effect the clay might have on the attacking men, or if it would have any at all. Another of Matiinuo’s tribe fell, leaving only Sinanie and two others, Ahea and a man named Faül.

  “Penapul!” I cried out.

  By that time only a half dozen of Penapul’s men were active in the fight, circling the three survivors and waiting for an easy opportunity for a fatal chop or thrust. The others were standing back, watching. Penapul turned and looked at me. His face was injured in two places, but this did not prevent him from forming a smile.

  Although I hadn’t the opportunity to become proficient with Penapul’s language, my greatly improved memory served me well at this time. “You have murdered my friends,” I said to him, using his language as best I could. “These people are now dead. Those still living are too few to be a threat to you. Let them live and they will go far away to make a new village.”

  By my reckoning, Penapul likely had no understanding of the notion of khomilo-ayan, or ‘very dead.’ If he would spare only one or two of us, we could apply the clay of the Lamotelokhai to heal the injured and even the recently dead.

  Penapul said something to his men, and they halted their attack. It was clear that Sinanie and the two others were utterly exhausted. They could hardly hold their spears up, and it would take little effort for Penapul’s warriors to dispatch them. Penapul and three others approached me, and I backed away, which caused them to circle me to prevent my escape. I began to think that the Lamotelokhai’s clay was harmless to them, and that my life would soon e
nd.

  Penapul spoke to me, and the following is my attempt to translate.

  “We have feared this tribe for a long time. Our men came here to hunt but did not come back. Hunters from other tribes came here, but they were not seen again. Amborn, Miok, and Loo came here with you, and they did not come back. Now this tribe will be dead, and we will not fear them again.”

  “You can go home now,” I said in his language. “Now they are not to be feared.”

  Penapul smiled again. “We will complete our task, and then we will go home. We will take the heads with us. The skulls will hang in our houses, and we will look at them often and tell stories of this day.”

  I looked at him with renewed alarm. If they beheaded the bodies, this would most assuredly thwart the Lamotelokhai’s healing powers. And if they killed every last one of us, there would be no one to apply the healing clay anyway. Suddenly I realized all would be lost.

  Penapul handed his spear to the man next to him and took the man’s chopper. He then approached me. I glanced about, but his warriors had surrounded me. Penapul stopped when he was close enough to strike me down. He slapped the flat edge of the long and bloody blade against his hand several times, as if to taunt me in my final moments.

  The events that occurred next are nearly beyond my capacity and will to describe, but I believe that they should be told and known.

  Penapul began speaking to me, but then he stopped after uttering only the first word. For a moment he seemed confused. He then grasped the chopper with both his hands and pressed the tip of the blade to his own throat. I thought perhaps he was taunting me yet again, but suddenly he threw himself upon the ground. This action drove the blade through his throat and it emerged from the back of his neck. I stared down at Penapul with great shock as his body immediately began floundering about with violent spasms, causing his own men and myself to step back to avoid being thrashed by his arms and legs.