“Clean Hands”
By Richard B. Knight
For more of the universe of “Clean Hands” check out the website: http://thedarknessofthewomb.com/
“Clean Hands” is © Richard B. Knight 2015. All rights reserved. Cover by Kristin Pittman
Edited by Veronica Roxby Jorden
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I
As Lord Instinct ascended in the glass elevator up to the floor where Lord Imagination dreamt, he watched his green reflection, which was merely an outline of a man with a pumping sphere in his chest. If not for the immediate feeling that he was needed by Imagination, Instinct never would have left that poor fisherman behind. Even now, as he traveled past floors where mankind’s dreams, nightmares, and ideas took shape, he was painfully aware of the countless people who were now all alone in the Barrier of Regret. All of them, fighting their worst memories alone.
His green light intensified and he rubbed his temples. Leaving all of those new arrivals was necessary, he told himself. He had felt Imagination’s call all the way in the catacombs of that dying man’s mind. Something was very wrong, and his presence was required.
The elevator stopped and the doors peeled apart like draperies. Imagination rested on a red sofa, his blue aura pulsing as he slept. Instinct quietly stepped into the room. A floor of stars twinkled beneath his feet. Above, a red, tumescent quasar expanded like a jelly fish, casting a soft pink hue upon Instinct’s shoulders.
He’d entered this dream room countless times, but no matter how often he visited, he was always made speechless by its splendor and wonder. Lord Imagination, the harbinger of creativity gently snoring at the center of this room, was mankind’s tyrant. Sometimes, he was selfish and haughty, while other times, benevolent and kind. One day, Imagination would enlighten mankind to look beyond the stars and find the universe within themselves, but today was not that day. There were other things on his mind.
While he slept, iridescent bubbles floated from his mind. The bubbles rose and then silently popped just inches from Imagination’s face. Instinct pressed his luck and inched forward. Sometimes, when he looked inside the bubbles, he saw traces of Imagination’s dreams. Within these dreams, Instinct viewed mankind in a different light. These people weren’t dead yet, and for that reason, they had hope. Instinct envied Imagination for his ability to see mankind outside of the Landscape, but he would never tell him so.
Imagination grunted in his sleep and turned over. Instinct took a step back.
Overhead, a shooting star distracted Instinct. When he looked up, he felt Imagination awaken before it happened.
“Huh?” Imagination sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Instinct?”
Instinct got right down to business. “You called me in your sleep. What troubles you?”
Imagination threw his legs over the edge of the sofa and stretched his arms. The last of the bubbles popped over his head, revealing a shouting, murderous crowd.
“Bad dreams.” His nonexistent face morphed into whomever he thought about. When he removed his hand, his face took on the hard, clumsy countenance of a Governor in the world beyond the Landscape.
Instinct hazarded a guess. “Did you dream about Him again?”
“Of course. Who else do I dream about these days?” Imagination stood up and stretched his back.
“What happened this time?”
As Imagination walked about his dream room, the stars expanded and stretched until the darkness of space disappeared and the walls were completely white. “Didn’t you see Him? I know you watch me in my sleep.”
“I can only see scant bits of anything in your dreams, and I definitely can’t interpret them. Tell me, what did you see? Has anything happened to Him?”
Imagination smoothed the thinning hair of the man he thought about. “Not yet. But there’s…indecision.”
“Indecision about what?” Instinct asked, as that was his territory, helping people get over their indecision and acting. “Somebody is undecided about something?”
Imagination offered a wan smile. “That might be why I beckoned you in my sleep. Yes, somebody is indecisive about something crucial in the outside world and it concerns Him, though I’m not quite sure what it is. And you,” he wagged his finger, “Might be the only one who can direct him. He just needs a push.”
Instinct felt the ball of light in his chest constrict. A blade formed on his back, which always happened when he grew tense. “What can I possibly do?”
Imagination directed his gaze at the floor and then up at the ceiling before turning to Instinct.
“Well, I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”
“Get on with it already. It there are decisions to be made I’m prepared to do whatever it takes. What is it?”
Imagination grimaced and offered hard eyes. “Before I tell you, how much do you believe in Him?”
“Just tell me already. You already know my loyalty. I’ve abandoned my post multiple times just to be here.”
Imagination nodded solemnly. “That you did, Instinct. That you did.” Imagination reached out and pressed a fingertip against the white wall. An explosion of color swirled and danced up and out in patterns of unimaginable beauty.
“Quit stalling, Imagination. Whatever it is, I can handle it. Tell me.”
Imagination pulled his finger from the wall and the colors instantly faded.
“Very well. As I said before, somebody is very indecisive about an important decision. What would you say to traveling through a dream and speaking to him directly?”
“What do you mean?”
Imagination put his hands behind his back and stared up as if he could still see the stars. “What if I could send you into this person through one of his dreams to give him a message?”
Given that both Archetypes couldn’t directly tell who these people were outside the Landscape and could only feel their significance, Instinct grew skeptical. His eyes narrowed, and the essence in his chest beat harder. “You mean like going through the door behind Purpose’s throne?”
Imagination’s smile faded. “Of course not. I’m not asking you to go inside the universal mind. Just one person’s dream.”
Instinct crossed his arms. “Is this ‘indecisive person’ really that important?”
“You tell me. What do you feel?”
The call had been too great to deny. A turning point was occurring in the world of man, and he would be the arrow. He felt it. “How much time do I have to think about this?”
“You’re going to consult Logic, aren’t you?” Imagination offered a wolfish grin, showing his canines. “You’re wasting your time, Instinct. You know she doesn’t believe in Him.”
Instinct tapped his foot. “Still, I need to know. How much time do I have to decide?”
Imagination crossed his arms. “Who’s to say? That’s more your territory, isn’t it? Sensing things?”
Instinct was annoyed by Imagination’s sangfroid. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Hurry,” Imagination said to Instinct’s back. “This one is different. You can feel it, can’t you? Different!”
II
Instinct considered his options as he rode the elevator back to the first floor and hurried outside.
The Landscape, which existed within all humans before life and after death, was a world of balance. It was also a world of conflict. Why else would Imagination’s skyscraper, with its many floors of creativity, be less than a mile away from Lady Logic’s crystal tower, which was the house o
f reason? The two were incongruous, a contradiction to the other’s very existence and consequently, they hated each other. Their conflict was further exacerbated by Logic’s decision to align with Lord Purpose. Instinct sided with Imagination to keep balance. But Instinct would not allow their hatred to cloud his judgment.
He traveled in an instant the distance between the two. Lady Logic’s domain sparkled like a prism.
Logic’s doorway stood open, as it always did, for any Archetype who wished to visit her. None of the other Archetypes were as egalitarian as Lady Logic, which was perhaps the reason she was the most feared of the five. The rest of them coveted their secrets. But with her honesty and candor, what did she have to hide?
When Instinct entered her scintillating doorway, he called up her spiral staircase. “I need to speak with you! It’s urgent!”
The staircase, which appeared to travel up ad infinitum, reduced and decreased until the resplendent doorway of Logic’s chamber arrived before him. He stepped inside and found Lady Logic sitting in her crystal throne with her eyes closed. Her orange aura glowed dimly around her outlined body. Her essence shone brightly in her chest like sunlight.
“Yes, Instinct. What is so urgent that you have come to see me?”
“Is this a bad time?” He knew she liked to spend most of her afternoons maintaining universal “truths” in the outside world, whatever that meant.
“Of course not,” she said. “Now tell me, what has Imagination talked you into this time?”
Instinct cringed. “How did you know I was with Imagination?”
“Please, you must give me more credit than that, Instinct. It is only when you leave the Barrier that you have conflict in your life, and the only time you leave the Barrier is to speak to Imagination.”
Instinct swallowed—You’re one to talk. You side with that coward, Purpose—but didn’t say what was on his mind. “I just wanted to ask you a quick question.”
“Why? You already know what I’m going to say.”
Instinct remained quiet. This was just her way. A lecture first, and then, hopefully, an answer. But he really didn’t have time for this right now. Couldn’t she just let him talk?
“You know you won’t receive reassurance from me,” Logic said over his silence. “You never have. If anything, I will provide you with even more questions. So why have you come to me, Instinct? How is it even remotely possible that I can help you?”
Instinct had to phrase this right or risk a torrent of questions. “Imagination wants me to travel into a person’s dream to, uh…”
He waited for Logic to put two and two together, but she wouldn’t help him. He continued.
“To, uh, influence somebody to make a decision? Do you think it’s safe?”
Logic slowly opened her eyelids. Her pupils glowed as orange as the sphere in her chest. “As you well know, Instinct, we are the embodiment of our namesakes.”
“I know, but—”
She put up her hand. “You came to me. Let me speak. When a person in the outside world reaches their hand toward a fire, who’s the one who prevents them from sticking their hand right in?”
“I am, of course, but all I want to know is—”
She put up her hand again. “When somebody is being followed late at night, who’s the one who puts them on their guard?”
“Obviously me, but—”
The hand again. “So, in knowing what great power you possess, do you really think you should be tampering with a person’s dreams, Instinct? Do you have any idea what kind of ramifications there could be if we as Archetypes reached out to humankind rather than the other way around? Does that sound safe for either you, or the individual involved? Or humankind for that matter?”
“Okay, obviously, it doesn’t sound safe, but—”
“Then why are you here, Instinct, if you already know the answer?”
Silence. This was the reason Imagination hated her, but Instinct couldn’t help but respect her. She was direct and sobering, maybe even to a fault.
“You mention humankind,” Instinct said, “but this isn’t like going through the door behind Purpose’s throne. Imagination says—”
“Imagination lies and this is exactly like trying to go through the door behind Purpose’s throne.”
“How?” The green sphere in his chest tightened like a knot.
Logic smirked, but it looked like a sneer. “Take for example how you, Imagination, and Purpose believe that everything has some sort of meaning.”
Instinct shook his head, his green light growing brighter as his anger flared. “How did we go from the door behind Purpose’s throne to the wooden door again? In the end, it always goes back to the wooden door, but we weren’t even talking about that.”
“Weren’t we?”
“No, we weren’t. I asked you a simple question and you’ve again turned this into an argument about my beliefs. I mean, seriously, Logic, why would a door even exist if there was nothing behind it?” In his mind’s eye, he pictured the fourth door in Purpose’s throne room, which had remained unopened since mankind’s existence. No one save Logic was brave enough to even think about opening the wooden door.
“You say it doesn’t follow, but it does,” Logic argued. “The fact is that just because you think something is of great importance, doesn’t make it so. Some things, like the wooden door in Purpose’s castle could be there for no reason at all. Who’s to say, since none of you are willing to open it? Sure, you roll your eyes at me now, but let’s actually talk about the wooden door. It aligns directly with your beliefs that you should be communicating with the outside world.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It does.”
“How?”
Logic leaned forward on her throne. Her orange vibrancy pulsed as she presented her reasoning. “Let me help you visualize this. Purpose has four doors in his throne room, correct?”
Instinct crossed his arms. “We both know he does.”
“One door leads out to his balcony, another exits the throne room, another leads to the universal mind, and then there’s the wooden door to his right, the one you are all so afraid to open.” She stood and stared down at him. “All three of you revere the wooden door because Purpose believes he hears snoring behind it. This, in turn, leads Imagination to believe that some kind of ‘Creator’ must be sleeping back there, since, as you said, why would a door be there if nothing was behind it? This, ‘belief’ has spilled out to the world beyond the Landscape and has caused many humans to believe that a ‘Creator’ must exist in their own world, even though there is no evidence to support this. In turn, this makes you believe in a sort of God-behind-the-wooden door, which has dulled the senses of some of the people in the outside world. Why, some of them now wonder, should they worry about life on Earth, when there is supposedly a world beyond it? But let me ask you this, Instinct. When people leave the Earth, where do they all end up? Do they find themselves in some mystical place that exists in the sky, or do they come here, the space between life and death? Answer me that.”
Instinct didn’t want to. He knew where they went. He’d seen enough of them in the Barrier of Regret to have an answer.
“I don’t mean to belittle you, Instinct. Nor do I mean to poke holes in your theories. But you want to enter somebody’s dream to ‘guide’ them to a decision, and I just wanted to show you how your actions affect those in the outside world. So just think for a moment what would happen if you tried to directly impact someone. Do you see why I urge you to reconsider?”
For the first time in this conversation, Instinct heard genuine fear in Logic’s voice. Even the sphere in her chest, which usually made perfect, concentric circles, looked to be swerving a bit. Instinct took little pleasure in this.
“Imagination says that the only reason you don’t hear snoring is because you refuse to believe anything could exist that has a greater power than us.”
Logic offered sympathetic eyes. “Imagination has led you to
believe that Messiahs exist in the world outside the Landscape, but they don’t. All humans are built the same. Before they’re born, they live here, and when they die, they return. There is no higher destination. This is it, Instinct. Can’t you be content with that?”
Instinct wished he could. He had seen too many lost souls wander into the Barrier of Regret. He had seen too much misery.
Instinct knelt before Lady Logic in respect. “I thank you for your advice and time.”
As he walked out, he felt Logic’s eyes watching him. They were sad eyes, but also powerless ones. Because even though both Imagination and Logic saw him as a little dumb, he still outpowered both of them. And no matter what she said, Instinct knew this one was different. He felt it. And nothing could beat a feeling. Not even all the logic in the world.
III
Imagination stood outside his skyscraper smiling smugly as Instinct returned to him. “How’d it go?”
“How do you think it went?” Instinct flashed green. He was not in the mood. “Now how are we going to do this? You weren’t specific on that point.”
The two of them pushed through the rotating door of the skyscraper and walked toward an empty front desk.
“I’m really glad that you’ve decided to go through with this, especially given the risks.”
Instinct stopped in his tracks. “What kinds of risks are we talking about?”
Imagination wrapped his arm around Instinct in a fatherly gesture, but Instinct shrugged it off. “Quit it out. What’s going to happen to me once I enter this person’s dream?”
Imagination reached over the desk and pulled up a fat yellow tome, not unlike a phone book. He leafed through it and shook his head at each page. “What kind of risk, you ask?”
“Yeah, is the risk on me, or mankind?”
Imagination continued flipping pages. Each entry had a name and a number after it, indicating which floor to go to.
“I think, if anything,” Imagination said after finding the dreamer in question, “that the danger would be more on you than mankind. I imagine—and remember, I’m only imagining, here—that once you enter a dream, you lose a part of yourself since you’re partially leaving the Landscape.”
Clean Hands (The Womb Book 1) Page 1
