The Reincarnationist Papers

by D. Eric Maikranz

  I nodded and handed her the glass, noticing the tattoo. “I have another question for you, Poppy.”

  “Yes.”

  “That symbol tattooed on your hand, it’s above the doors on the outside of this vault too. What is it?”

  “Oh, this,” she said, turning her hand so that she could see it, “this is called an Embe. It’s a tradition with all of us.”

  The Evergreen Cemetery, east of downtown at the corner of First and Evergreen, is Los Angeles’s oldest and matches Evan’s description of being an oasis of quiet within the city.

  Poppy’s use of this term is interesting. The word palingenesis is an arcane term used to describe the metaphysical doctrine of the transmigration of the soul, or, in lay terms, reincarnation.

  Venice was a world leader in glass manufacture until the eighteenth century, but the glass is actually manufactured on the nearby island of Murano. Venetian glass furnaces were moved to Murano in 1291 due to safety concerns after several devastating fires.

  Venice did indeed have a death penalty in place for any Murano glassworker who left the lagoon. This was in order to maintain their treasured glass manufacture monopoly in Europe. This is well detailed in many editions, specifically Mirror, Mirror by Mark Pendergrast.

  8

  “Of us?” I asked, confused. “Us who?”

  “The others like you and me.”

  “There are others?” I asked, raising my voice.

  “Yes,” she nodded, “but much older.”

  I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t think. My mind reeled with the possibilities. “How many more?”

  “Twenty-eight, including me. I’m one of the younger ones.”

  Twenty-eight. Each question she answered prompted ten more. “How old are they?”

  “Well, we all know from experience that if you come back once, you will continue to come back. It’s the same for all of us, so some are quite old.” She looked up as she did the math. “The oldest one dates back to the first century AD, forty or so incarnations. The rest started at all dates between then and now. You would definitely be the youngest.”

  “Tell me about them,” I demanded.

  “I cannot,” she said firmly. “Evan, I know it’s cruel to be so close to the truth about yourself and not be able to touch it, but there are good reasons—”

  “What, what good reasons?” I asked, irritated.

  She sat calmly and looked up at me. “As I was saying, all of the members of this society, all twenty-eight of us, are sworn to secrecy by each other. I suspect most of them will only share their identity with you once you are accepted.”

  “Accepted? Into what?”

  “That’s one of the things I can tell you. The twenty-eight of us are an extended family of sorts, we all formally belong to a society formed centuries ago by the first ones like us to find each other. This society is called the Cognomina. It’s a Latin term that means to remember the same name.10 The tattoo,” she said, rubbing a thumb at it, “is worn by all of us in each successive life after we go through the Ascension.”

  I gave her a questioning look.

  “The Ascension is like a trial all of us must go through in each successive incarnation before we reenter the Cognomina. Basically, you have to prove to the others that knew you before that you are the same person in this new body, hence the name, Cognomina.”

  “Then how can you be accepted if they don’t know you?”

  “Well,” she said, laughing, “it’s certainly easier than it used to be. In the old days, before my time, the members would face the candidate and one would run him through with a spear. The candidate would only be accepted when he came back in his next life, if he came back, and identified his murderer. These days you simply have to convince a panel of judges that you have lived before; names, dates, places, things that can be verified. It’s most difficult the first time.”

  “What happens if I fail, I mean, what happens if you fail the first time?”

  “Don’t worry, Evan, you’ll do fine. Besides, I’ll be your advocate.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’ll tell them about how I found you.”

  I couldn’t help but think about what these others would be like. Twenty-eight people who would know what this type of life is like. Twenty-eight people that I wouldn’t have to lie to in order to be close. Twenty-eight people to know now and in the future. “Poppy, tell me about this society. Tell me as much as you can.”

  “All right,” she said, taking some more wine. “This society, the Cognomina, was established by the first six of us in 839 in the then small Swiss confederation village of Zurich, but the tradition of the first of us coming back in successive lives and meeting one another dates back to the third century AD. The first two that found each other started meeting each year on the summer solstice at the pyramids of Giza in Egypt. They met this way every year so that if one died, the other knew he would eventually return to the same spot in a new body and greet his friend. After a few lives, they began to mark themselves with the symbol of their assigned meeting place to make identification easier when meeting each other in fresh incarnations. That’s what this symbol evolved from,” she traced the outline of the tattoo with her finger, “the three peaks of the pyramids.”

  I nodded.

  “One Egyptian summer, on that longest day of the year, one of them came back as a fresh young man after an eighteen-year absence and met his old friend, only to find two others with the same Embe symbol on their hands standing next to him. The first one had discovered a new one who already knew another. This is how we began, at least that’s how the story goes. I entered in 1649.”

  “Are they still alive?” I asked, trying to fathom what it must be like to be that old.

  “Yes, they are still around. Like I said, if you come back once, you always will. It’s the same for all of us, it always has been,” she said in a voice that sounded almost sad.

  I thought about them, hundreds, even thousands of years old, the memories, loves, skills, and torments piled up on them unwillingly like an odd assortment of bricks shabbily assembled into haunted temples. I had lived in such a temple for over three years, alone. The idea of living in it alone for one day longer seemed too much to bear. I looked over at Poppy as she unwrapped the roast beef, and it all began to make perfect sense. They had to stay together, for sanity’s sake if nothing else.

  “It sounds like they were already well rooted in Egypt, so why move to Zurich and reestablish there?”

  “Well, this condition we share has always afforded us the one luxury of practical immortality, though I’ve always thought the term immemorial more appropriate for us than immortal, for we all die, we just remember having died. I say practical because we were able to bequeath wisdom and experience to ourselves in each successive life, but we were never able to reap the benefit of any wealth or lands that we acquired because we could never pass it on to ourselves.

  “Back when there were five of us, the odds were very high that there would always be at least one of us alive, alive in the sense that they were old enough to be aware of their nature and aware of the others. Since then, there has always been one designate who keeps the holdings of the ones who have died and returns them to the new incarnates upon their reemergence. The Ascension became the way of verifying identity. If the designate died, all of his assets and the assets of the others were passed on to an alternate or second designate that was still alive. It still works that way today. The fact that we have to depend on and trust one another makes us a very close family. The home you stayed in, the car you rode in, my other homes around the world, my twenty percent stake in one of the largest glass manufacturers in the world, were all left to me by my benefactor,” she said, motioning to the plaques, “by me, the same person.” She handed me a small sandwich of roast beef and cheese b
etween two crackers. “Here, have a sandwich.”

  I took it without speaking and thought about family as I ate. I thought about what the word meant to me. Its meaning had changed forever when I had changed. Since then, there had been three families: mine, Vasili’s, and Bobby’s. Before I left, I spoke to my parents about this, but the memories of the older families drove my current one apart, turning it into a memory as well. It wasn’t until that moment in the vault with Poppy that I realized what I had been unknowingly yearning for—a family, but not an ordinary family. I yearned for a family that wasn’t transitory, fragile, or misunderstanding like the ones I’d known, but one in which I could be accepted as I am. “What would this Ascension be like for a newcomer like me?”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking.”

  “What would I be required to do? Are there initiation ceremonies? You said you would be my advocate; is there a trial?” I stopped to take a breath and soften my tone. “Poppy, what you are telling me, this society, these people, is beyond my wildest fantasies. For years I’ve wondered why I was different and what made me this way. I’ve battled with myself daily about whether or not to tell the people around me. I’ve held all-night conversations in my room with imaginary people who could understand what this is like and now I find these people, and they’re real. Poppy, I want to know what I have to do in order to meet them.”

  I fought back tears as she took my hand. “I know what you’re feeling, Evan. I am the one who found you. It is my responsibility to introduce you to the Cognomina, and I will tell you everything that I am allowed to tell.” She stroked the back of my head fondly.

  “The Ascension could best be described as a trial,” she continued. “There will be a panel of five members that will have the final say on your status, and you will have an advocate to help you through the process. You will be asked to recount your life histories first. Then you must answer questions from the panel about those histories. There will be an emphasis on dates, places, people, anything that can be verified to corroborate your claim. This process can go on for days, even weeks. There is often a break in the proceedings while certain facts are verified. After all the questions are answered and names and dates verified, the five members of the panel confer and give their decision. That’s when the fun starts,” she said, breaking into a warm smile. “There is a huge celebration after a confirmation, where the newcomer takes a name for himself that is known only by the others. All the members that are alive are summoned to a new confirmation party, and after you take a name, you will be introduced to all in attendance, one by one.”

  “You speak with such confidence about how I’ll do.”

  “Of course I do; I’ll be your advocate.”

  “Really?” I asked, feeling the excitement rising inside me.

  “Yes, it’s normal for the one who finds you to be your advocate.” She stopped and looked at me seriously. “It would be my honor, Evan.”

  “Great, how many have you done?” I asked, squeezing her hand again.

  “I’ve never been an advocate, but it’s not that difficult. I’m basically there to help you with the procedures, all the answers are yours.”

  “Where is it located? In Zurich? Is there a permanent building?”

  “Again, that is something I cannot tell you yet. I’ve told you too much as it is. But I can tell you that I told some of the others about you, and I took the liberty of arranging a flight for us to Zurich on Sunday night, so you won’t have to wait too long for the answers to your questions. I assume you do want to go?” she asked, looking at me for a response.

  I didn’t have to think very hard about it. One simple answer now could answer a thousand other questions. “Yes, I want to go.”

  “Good. I’ll let them know so preparations can begin.”

  “What do I need to bring?”

  “Nothing special, just normal travel gear. Do you have any suits?”

  “No, do I need one?”

  She emptied the last of the second bottle into my glass. “As your advocate, I’d recommend you get two or three. Do you have enough money to buy them?”

  “I think so. I should after tomorrow. Oh, by the way, I need to use a telephone sometime tonight.”

  “No problem, I just bought one of these new portable ones,” she said, taking a cell phone out of her purse. “You can use it now.”

  I shook my head. “It’s too early, he doesn’t get in until nine.”

  “What’s going on tomorrow?” she asked.

  “This guy I know owes me some money, and I have an appointment to meet him at a club tomorrow night to collect. Would you like to come?”

  “I’ll think about it. We should go, it’s getting late. Are you ready?”

  I nodded as I finished the last of the wine. She turned on the slim cell phone, punched in a number, and looked at me as she spoke into the receiver, “Listos, Antonio.”

  i left and walked ahead as she locked the doors to the vault. Antonio was waiting with the car doors open by the time we made our way to the road. The sun sank behind orange, red, and purple clouds. I listened to the birds chirping and thought about what my life would be like from now on. I’d always felt like a castaway, walking alone on my island, but now instead of finding one strange set of footprints in the sand, I found twenty-eight.

  Antonio looked at me differently as I walked up to the car. He knew that I knew and acted as submissive to me as I’d seen him act with Poppy. He held some mysterious reverence toward her that hadn’t made sense until now. She got in the car, and Antonio slowly started the Cadillac on the narrow, winding road out of the cemetery.

  “Can you tell me why everything about this Cognomina is so secretive?”

  She took a moment to answer. “There are two reasons. One is practical, and the other historical. You see, all of us have been around long enough to know that we have little in common with normal humans. The only people we can relate to are each other. We are all so old with so many memories and experiences from our lives that outsiders, those who do not remember, could never fathom what our existence is like. There seems little purpose in sharing something that can never be understood or appreciated. Surely, you already know that.”

  There was no longer any doubt in my mind she was like me. “Yes, you’re right,” I conceded.

  “The second reason goes back to tradition. It all started shortly after everything was relocated to what is now Switzerland, around the turn of the first millennium. The seven members at that time had already amassed a fortune that rivaled many nearby kingdoms. One of the oldest members, upon becoming the trustee, decided, without permission from the others, to tell all the villages within several days’ ride about the Cognomina. She later claimed she did this in an attempt to establish a new kingdom with the seven members acting as a royal family that could rule in successive incarnations. Word of the tattooed devils spread across the land like wildfire, and within a fortnight, the villagers killed all the members and looted the treasury of everything. Since then it’s been a tradition to maintain secrecy about ourselves.”

  Antonio stopped in front of the church. I got out and started up the stairs. My foot was sore from walking in the cemetery.

  “I have to go upstairs and take care of some business. I’ll be back down in a while,” Poppy said.

  I watched her calf muscles flex as she walked up the stairs before I went straight to the guest room for the painkillers. They started to work in minutes, and I felt much better as I walked to the bathroom. Antonio was reading on the pew next to the bathroom when I passed. I came out and sat down beside him. “Is she still busy?”

  He nodded and closed his book, an English language bible. “She is on the telephone.”

  “You read English?”

  “I try to practice but I don’t understand too much,” he said, looking at the book. “She took you out to the
vault today. That means you are the same as her, yes?” He spoke softly and kept his eyes cast down. I wondered if this was some kind of test she had put him up to.

  “What do you mean?”

  He drew in a deep breath. “I knew her before. Graciela Cruz hired me forty-five years ago. I have lived in this church since the 1950s, and in all that time she has never taken anyone else there. She always goes alone. I think you are special to her.” I could tell something was burning inside him. “She hasn’t even taken the other ones like her that have visited.”

  “You’ve met others?” I asked in an excited whisper.

  “Three have come here to visit since I’ve been here. Two of them come back every few years.”

  “How did you know they were like her?”

  “The tattoo,” he said plainly. I felt like an idiot for asking such an obvious question. “But I would know anyway,” he continued. “There is something about them that is unmistakable. I think I would know one anywhere now, even without the tattoo.”

  “What is it?”

  Antonio looked up at me. “Power. They hold power over you, especially with their eyes.”

  He was right about the eyes, at least I thought so from what I’d seen of Poppy. She probed you with them and knew exactly what you were thinking, or let you know exactly what she was thinking. “Why are you telling me this, Antonio? I’m sure you’re aware of how secretive Poppy is about this.”

  “She is secretive with the rest of the world, not with her own kind. You are lucky,” he said, getting up. “I wish I was like her.”

  I didn’t speak as he left. His words seemed to hang in the air until I digested them one by one. I had never thought of being lucky. I never saw anything particularly lucky in being alone, but the more I thought about it on that pew, the luckier I seemed. I would live beyond the annihilation of death. I would eventually be able to live in the same style Poppy did, and I would never lose this identity, this self that I have, that I am now. Like Poppy said, it was the closest thing to immortality anyone could ever find. I realized then that I always knew I would come back again and again, and that I’d lived in fear of it, like a roller coaster that never stops so you can get off. Until today I had been on that roller coaster alone. I was lucky not because I would come back, but because I would now come back to someone, something, someplace that was home.