"I think you need a little bit to—"
"No!” he snapped. “Isn't that your goddamned job?"
"Yeah...” I said. “Yeah. Sorry."
"You're shivering, Mikal,” he said.
"I think I'm getting a cold."
"Well, you'd better get some rest. I'm going to sleep early tonight too. I want to see if I can go without jisthmus until morning."
I nodded and slipped into the next room. I tried to sleep, but my nerves wouldn't let me rest. What if I'd caught the cur-flu on the highliner out here? What if I developed a fever and didn't have the energy to descend the stairs? Diego was still not in any condition to fend for himself, let alone for another. I sat on the floor and rocked back and forth, while I flipped through the holy book the vendor had given me. The words blurred together, and I couldn't read more than a sentence before I felt a wave of nausea and fear.
There had been something profoundly grounding while sitting next to Diego as he smoked his jisthmus and spoke of his philosophy, and I thought that right now that was the one thing I needed. But my job was to help him quit, and we'd never get off this planet if I kept him hooked.
I opened the bundle of jisthmus and looked at it closely for the first time. It resembled buds of ganj, but was much darker, almost black. Not burning, it smelled pretty tolerable, like black tea and sage. I thought that if I put a little bit into Diego's pipe and lit it, not to smoke, of course, but just to smell it in the air, like an incense, it might settle my nerves.
I put a small amount into the bowl and held a match to it, pointing the stem away from my lips. The herb was moist, however, and didn't catch. So, with the same lit match, I puffed on the pipe. I never planned to inhale, but years of smoking all of sorts of things made the action involuntary. I inhaled a small bit before I realized what I'd done and threw the pipe away.
The world shifted.
My nausea, shakes, and fear stopped instantly. The walls, bare and brown before, took on new life. I saw, in each and every crevice and bump, an entire universe of history. I thought of the people who had built these giant towers without modern machines, how each stone was laid by hand, of the mason who placed the bricks of this wall, how my presence here, in this room, was impossible without his meticulous work. I suddenly wanted to meet him and thank him.
And—my god!—outside, the stars—when had the sun set?—the stars glimmered with light a million years old and yet born anew every second. Below them a city of such simple beauty. And on the floor by my feet was a book. I picked it up and read the cover: Ohr Ha'Olam, The Light of the Universe. And it was lit too. The book glowed brighter than the stars outside, brighter than the lamp beside me. I opened to page one and read, ‘The universe is nothing but Light, and the light of the One pervades all.’ Yes, I thought. Yes.
And I understood, and read, and knew the Cosmos as a friend.
* * * *
A voice called to me from sweet and heavy dreams, pulling me awake. It was Diego, screaming.
"Mikal! Mikal!"
I ran to him, groggily. For the first time, I had slept through the muezzin's morning song.
"My pipe, Mikal! Get my pipe!"
I ran back into the other room, and when I saw the packed pipe, the open bundle of jisthmus, and The Light of the Universe open to page two hundred and seventy three, I remembered: I had smoked jisthmus last night. I cursed myself as I emptied the contents of the pipe outside the window to hide my guilt from Diego, then rewrapped the bundle to make it look as if it hadn't been opened. How could I let this happen?
I returned to Diego, reopened the bundle, and packed his pipe. As he smoked his herb, I relaxed again into the thick smell that filled the air. With the scent, memories of the evening returned to me as he spoke. “What took you so long?” he said.
"I'm tired.” Despair is the respite of fools, for none enter the Lord's house without joy. The words flashed in my mind.
"Are you feeling better?"
The Light of one's house is dim or bright according to his need. “Yes,” I said after a time. In truth, I felt rather sick. I took a deep breath, trying to inhale some of the second-hand smoke. I wanted to reach out and take the pipe from him. But I steeled myself. I could not let myself become addicted to this drug.
"I had a strange dream last night,” he said. “I need to tell it to you. Maybe you can interpret it."
"Okay,” I said groggily.
"I dreamed I was a cat that wanted to be human. I watched my master, how she did her human things, and when she was gone I imitated her. She'd come home and stroke me, and it would feel wonderful, but each time she petted me I felt more like a cat and less like a person. So one day she came home and I hid from her. She called and called, but I didn't come. I hid from her for days, until I was weak and hungry. She finally found me, an emaciated thing hiding inside the lamp in the ceiling. To punish me, she cut off my legs and tore off my eyelids. She returned to her human things, while I could do nothing but watch her. But the worst part of all was that she still petted me."
"That sounds horrible,” I said.
"It is,” he said, staring at me. “What do you think it means?"
His dream made me feel even worse. “Look, I need to get some air. Is it okay if I go for a while?"
He frowned. “Hide the jisthmus first,” he said.
I quickly hid the bundle then left him. Alone, I wandered the city streets, drinking buckets of water, seeking the wide open spaces to clear my lungs. I had to remove that poison from my body. But jisthmus was all I could think about.
I sat on a bench, shaking my legs, willing myself to think of something else, when a Nefanese girl sat down next to me. Her eyes were swirls of green and brown, with pupils like tiny black stars.
"You from offworld?” she said in accented Anglai.
I nodded.
"Earth?"
"Yeah."
"I've never been to Earth,” she said.
"There's a lot more to do there."
"I like your face,” she said. “No beard. Can I touch it?"
Before I could answer she ran her finger down my jaw.
"There are some empty pavilions in Usha Square,” she said. “Where two people could be alone."
"You wouldn't, by any chance, have some jisthmus?” I said.
"I do. But it's not yet Zizuhr."
"Zi-what?"
"Noon prayer."
"Do you have to wait until then to smoke it?"
She looked at me strangely, then frowned. “Of course we do."
"Can we smoke a little now?"
"No,” she said sternly.
"Why not?"
"Because it's forbidden."
"C'mon, let's just smoke a little."
"Have you no reverence for Elohim?"
"Elo-who? Why can't you smoke whenever you want?"
She abruptly stood, spat in my face, and slapped me. She made the finger gesture I had seen the others do, then shouted foreign words in Nefanesh. I slowly walked away, and when I turned the corner, she was still shouting.
Angry, confused, I wandered the streets. I'd come down here to be free of the jisthmus, and instead I found myself seeking more. Back in the apartment, I knew Diego would want to smoke again soon. I felt trapped. To keep my mind occupied, I ate from every vendor I passed, until my stomach hurt and I was heavy with food. For a time, I didn't want the drug anymore, only sleep.
I trudged up the many flights to Diego's apartment. At first I thought I was on the wrong floor. The many walls had changed, rearranged into a new pattern. I checked the floor and apartment number, but both were correct, and when I re-entered Diego's room, I saw him rocking back and forth. His hair was wild and his face was twisted in pain.
"Where the fuck were you?” he said.
"What did you do to the apartment?"
"What do you mean?"
"The walls, they're all different,” I said.
"Different?"
"Is this the same apartment?"
"Are you feeling okay?"
"No,” I said, sitting down. “I'm tired."
"You're tired?” Diego said. “I've just spent the entire afternoon looking for my jisthmus. Fuck, Mikal, if I found where you hid it, I'd have smoked the whole bundle! All my progress would be for shit."
"I'm sorry,” I said.
"Go!” he said. “Get my pipe!"
I ran into the next room—a different next room from the one I remembered—and found the pipe and bundle behind a loose brick in the window sill. That part, at least, hadn't changed. I packed the pipe, lit it, and took a puff. With it, all my anxiety left me. I took a second puff and a third. Then I remembered Diego.
I stepped into the next room.
"It's already lit,” he said.
"I got it going for you."
He puffed on his pipe and his face relaxed.
"The walls,” I said, “the walls are different."
"The walls are always different,” he said, and I understood what he meant. Everything around me was moving, alive, bursting with life. In every instant, the walls were born anew. The light of the setting sun moved across Diego's face as he fell asleep, and with his eyes closed I took another puff and another. I thought of reading more of The Light of the Universe, but I was too lazy to move.
I fell asleep, and dreamed of a monstrous hand reaching across light-years of space to stroke me. Its touch was the most pleasurable and the most vile thing I have ever felt. Pleasurable, like a thousand orgasms. And vile, because each stroke said to me I was nothing but a speck of flotsam in an infinite sea.
* * * *
Things grew hazy after that. I continued weaning Diego off of his habit and watched him get stronger each day, while I snuck more and more jisthmus when he wasn't looking. I stopped bathing, let my beard grow, and would only eat every other day. Diego, on the other hand, grew strong enough to descend the many flights of stairs. I offered to go with him, but he refused, said he needed to prove to himself that he was a man again. I didn't argue. I was all too happy to be alone to smoke more.
By the end of the third week, we ran out of lamp oil. I promised to get more, but kept forgetting. So we spent the nights in the dark, until one night I broke a glass. Without light, we kept cutting our feet on the shards, so I used the only source of kindling I had: a page from The Light of the Universe. The pages had a natural oil to them, and I found that if I twirled them into little tubes, they made excellent, if short-lived, candles.
"The Bazaar's coming in two weeks,” Diego said to me one night.
"What's that?” I said, my mind wandering into ethereal dimensions.
"The Hinini traders come with goods from offworld. All those empty tents in Usha Square fill with vendors. It's the best time to buy jisthmus."
"Good to know,” I said dreamily.
"But I'm not going to buy any more."
"What?” I said, sitting up.
"I'm choosing that day to quit. I've saved enough for two highliner tickets. Enough for you and me to go anywhere. Some place far away from jisthmus."
"That's great,” I heard myself say, “I'm proud of you. You've come so far.” But inside, I was filled with dread. I wasn't ready to leave jisthmus behind.
"We have come far, Mikal. We have."
* * * *
I knew the Bazaar's arrival by its sound. The skies buzzed with trader ships, huge highliners floated in orbit, and thousands of jumpers crisscrossed the sky. Today, Diego would quit, and we'd leave this planet together. But I wasn't ready to leave.
I didn't sleep at all that night; I was up before the sun. Ships in silhouette descended from the sky as I puffed jisthmus, thinking of all the ways I might smuggle a bundle onto a highliner. I felt the now familiar bending of my mind, the opening of all things into infinity, the transience of all. Diego walked into the room while I had the pipe to my lips. I coughed and exhaled the blue smoke.
"Diego!” I screamed.
He sat down across from me. He had cut his hair, shaved, and bathed. Besides a few extra wrinkles and a mop of gray hair, he looked much like the man I had known back in Seoul. “You don't have to hide it anymore, Mikal. I should have guessed, but I was too preoccupied. The bundles disappeared too fast."
"I'm sorry. It's just ... I mean, I was..."
"Don't try to explain. It's pointless now."
"I'll quit. Just like you did. Let me pack my things. We'll take that highliner to Datsu, or Woll Ye. It'll be like old times again!"
"You can't quit cold turkey, Mikal. It'll kill you."
"I'll bring some with me. You can wean me off of it, just like I did for you."
"You'll never get it past customs. And even if you did, I don't want it around me anymore. I've worked too hard to get free."
"Diego, just give me a week or two. I'll quit, and we can take the next highliner out of here."
"The highliners only come with the Bazaar, every three months. I don't want to wait that long."
"Why not? I helped you! Won't you do it for me?"
"It's more complicated than that, Mikal. It's not just the jisthmus I'm running from. I came here to find heaven again, but I found something else instead, something beyond matter. I found a world of thought and emotion, an entire realm beyond the physical."
"I've felt it too,” I said. “With the jisthmus."
"That's where the numens roam,” Diego said. “I was exploring it, when I came to the attention of one of them. She calls herself Saa."
"You called her name that day I found you naked on the floor,” I said.
He nodded. “Saa liked how I stayed put, how my thoughts returned to her day after day. We shared ... conversations, really just exchanges of raw emotion. To her, I was like a stray cat that visits every day. She thought I needed a home. One day, she reached out and petted my soul. It was bliss, and it was hell. Nothing so cemented my human condition as that stroke of affection. I was, I saw, little more than an atom in a billion light-year void. She sensed my loneliness and adopted me.
"Once I was hers, she wouldn't let me go. My body could roam the physical world, but my mind was caged. It felt like falling, for ever and ever, into nothingness. I told her I wanted to be free, but she said that the Cosmos was dangerous, that I was safe with her as her pet, her prisoner.
"She gave me material things to keep me happy. Food, money, physical pleasure beyond anything I have ever known. But still, I was in her mental cage, falling, falling. But then I realized it was the jisthmus that was keeping me bound to her. If I could stop smoking it, I'd be free."
"Why didn't you tell me this before, Diego?"
"She wouldn't let me. I tried to tell you in roundabout ways, through dreams and stories and metaphors, hoping you'd catch on. But now that I'm free of jisthmus, her hold over me has weakened. I have to leave Mikal. Today. I can't be here anymore. I can't go back in her cage again."
"Diego!” I said. “You're leaving me?"
"You've left me no choice, Mikal. If I don't leave now, I'll miss the highliner. I'm sorry, Mikal, but I have to go. I guess things come full circle."
His eyes watered as he unfastened his cobalt necklace, and placed it on the floor before me. Then he left me on the floor. I tried to stand, but my legs were so weak I couldn't even get to my knees. “Diego!” I called. “Don't leave me!"
But he was gone.
To try and comfort myself, I reached for the holy book the vendor had given me, but I'd torn out all the pages. I shivered as the sun rose and the muezzin sang his morning song. I smoked a dozen pipes of jisthmus until I was numb, when the walls suddenly shimmered and moved. They exploded outward into the air, though the individual bricks remained solid and unbroken. I found myself floating in mid-air, cross-legged, motionless. I felt like I was falling, but my body remained still. Then the bricks collected again into a new apartment, with new dimensions, new walls. A brilliant light shone onto my back, and slowly, slowly, I turned to face it as something the size of a universe gently re
ached out to caress my shoulder.
Copyright © 2009 Matthew Kressel
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[Back to Table of Contents]
FAR & DEEP—Alaya Dawn Johnson
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Illustrated by Lisa Konrad
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Alaya Dawn Johnson's stories have appeared in Interzone, Strange Horizons, Fantasy Magazine, Year's Best Fantasy 6 and Year's Best SF 11. Her first novel, Racing the Dark, appeared in 2007 and the sequel, The Burning City, will be out later this year. ‘Far & Deep’ takes place in the same fantastical universe as those works. Alaya is a member of the Altered Fluid writing group. Visit her website at alayadawnjohnson.com.
* * * *
Her mother had never cried, but always closed her eyes when she laughed. Only in death did Pineki seem to weep, her cheeks wet from the ocean. Her eyes joyously closed.
The killer had left Pineki belly-down in the sand. A mottled crab scuttled from the cavity in the back of her head, imperfectly obscured by clumps of dark, bloody hair. Its tiny claw held a gobbet of red flesh.
Just a normal sunrise. Just the normal tides. Just the normal crabs. Leilani's mother was dead. As a pure, rational fact, it was easy enough for her to accept. Pineki's infuriating, unheeding, raw, wild spirit—she swam too far not to be caught in someone's net. Everyone would tell her they'd seen it coming.
Imagining these conversations, Leilani pinched her eyebrows together. She wagged her tongue in the wet, salty early-morning air. She would have to be understanding; she would have to see their sympathy in the context of her mother's life. They would feel bad for Leilani, but they would not keep the smugness from their voices, their unassailable conviction that whoever had smashed in her mother's skull and left her for the crabs and the tides and the beach had righted an imbalance in their world.
Pineki's lips were a lurid purple-red and so full it seemed she had plumped them with straw. They grazed the sand like she was teasing it, like it was the luckiest sand in the world: kissed by a woman still alluring even in death.
* * * *
"Lei ... I'm so sorry."
Interzone Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine #221 Page 8
