Punishment was not a widely used concept in DiPacha, as secrets were so hard to keep with the neural-net. If you had the skill it was possible to locate anyone at any time and with true patience and it was possible to look back over unknown periods of time to track people.
As reputation and family meant everything to DiPachans the biggest punishment was being seen to let down your family, and as family was considered to be in equal measure relations and society, DiPacha policed itself.
Secrets tugged at the soul of DiPachans and slowly corrupted them. All that held the Guild of The Punku together was a belief to their core that they were protecting their families and that the sacrifice they were making was ultimately the right thing to do. Releasing the secret would be sharing terror and possibly death with their families. This was unacceptable. Their sacrifice was not just worthwhile but essential.
However for serious crimes punishments did exist. Babel devices could be removed. The neural-net could be blocked. This effectively isolated individuals, but they could still be tracked. After a lifetime of having near unlimited access to knowledge and communication the fear of isolation was terrifying. This is what Sarenen feared. He had to protect himself and his father. If he was going to protect the oath he’d made to his father and the other True Listeners he had to act. He had to do something almost unheard of. Only known in deep Pachan history. His father had to be silenced.
For two days Sarenen had stayed with his father praying. Praying for him, and praying with him before he’d come to this horrifying conclusion. Sarenen was confused and terrified. He found himself praying for strength to do something he never thought he could, praying his father would die, praying the Gardener would, after all this time speak to them, praying someone would turn up and rescue him. He never once expected what actually happened that day.
It started early in the morning of the seventh day of Cunac's shrouple induced meditation. Seeing his father asleep Sarenen relaxed and apart from the occasional scream or snort his father had not made a sound in hours. Sarenen eventually fell asleep next to his father. There were no windows in the room and only cushions for furnishing. The room was beginning to smell badly of men, men who had not showered in days. For a room made of thick fossilised mud bricks the earthy smell was like an ancient memory. Sarenen was awoken by a glimmer of light coming through one of the small holes in the ceiling as dawn broke. This had the upsetting effect of reminding him how hungry he was and how much he needed the loo. He sat up with a shock and looked for his father. Cunac was nowhere to be seen. The door was open. Sarenen’s bowels tightened which only caused more discomfort but this was overridden by fear. He rushed out of the room and up the stairs into the central chamber of the temple. No one was there. He scanned the neural-net quickly for any sign of loose thoughts, nothing. A prayer of thanks for that.
This relaxed him slightly which only highlighted another very personal but urgent issue. Food could wait. This could not. Sarenen ran for the first loo he could find. Across the chamber and out to the pathway connecting the Temple to the Punku quadrant. Turning right and right again through a small door he found the hole in the ground he needed. Tunic up…
Nothing. His muscles were so tightly knotted he just stood there in pain. Slowly he relaxed releasing the pressure that had built up in his bowels. A hot painful stream began to slowly flow and all thoughts stopped. Sarenen found himself as close to bliss as he’d been in a long time, the relief palpable. Why should this be so pleasurable? He just stood there for a while luxuriating in the moment. Slowly as the sounds of the city re-entered his consciousness he remembered the situation. Where was his father?
“Stupid man!” he admonished himself. “The neural-net!” Sarenen closed his eyes and searched for his father. He found him in the Ma and Da’s small gathering room. Why? Sarenen was now very worried.
He looked down at his tunic. Although he judged all Listeners above other Pachans, and his father as Chief Listener was definitely above the Ma and Da, but there was such a thing as etiquette. Even in dire circumstances like these. Sarenen washed in the sluice on the other side of the small room and straightened his tunic. It was filthy but he knew his father was in a worse state the last time he’d seen him. He had to take the chance. The stakes were too high.
Sarenen exited the room and turned left to go back passed the Temple and around the Quadrant to the palace chambers where his father was. He was taking deep breaths to calm his mind which was compiling any number of scenarios. No longer a blissfully empty space between his ears, rather ranting, terrified and paranoid nest of angry cats screaming and hissing at each other. On the outside he remained calm remembering all the gatherings he’d been to with his father as a member of the Guild of The Punku yet considering how to manipulate the other Pachans into acting for the True Listeners objectives seemed a long way out of his control at this present moment.
His father had taught him how to play the long game well. Regaining WaytaPata for the Listeners was the only way to save all DiPacha. They had to teach the WaytaPatans how to share for the benefit of all and only the Listeners could do this. WaytaPata could be saved from the self-destructive course the current guardians had set the realm on. He held onto this as he knocked on the door.
“Come,” said Da’Cince.
Sarenen entered looking meek and with the open stance of the Listener. Not judging or prejudging and with totally neutral body language. Completely unable to read.
“Ah, it’s you as your father said it would be, Sarenen,” said Da’Cince. “Your father, our Chief Listener, has come to talk to us about the future. The future of Listeners here on Pachamama, and of course how we share our Listeners’ guidance across the realms.”
Sarenen was silent. He did not know how to react. He stood there looking at his father who was sat at the table and like Sarenen his posture was just as hard to read. Nothing; not a hint from his father of any meaning. After a lifetime of remaining outwardly neutral, what did he expect?
“Please continue, my Da.” Replied Sarenen.
“I cannot fathom how or why your father may know this and I pray he is wrong,” Da’Cince continued. Sarenen really did not like the way this was going and he just wanted to run. “But your father tells us his time is near. He says he has been in a deep meditation for the last few days.”
“Which we believe!” said Ma’Kusi who was standing near the small fire in the centre of the room where she was adding a sweet smelling log of crushed dried herbs.
“Ma, please!” said Da’Cince.
“My apologies. But my dear old friend, Cunac, although the news you offer is sad, I find it hard to believe that you could know this and I find it hard to stomach that you have arrived here after several days on shrouple without a wash. Like my husband says we pray you are wrong and it is only our friendship and your years of service which is stopping me getting Cince, I mean Da’Cince, to remove you from this room!”
“I too apologise, my old friend,” said Cunac. “But I believe I speak the truth. My meditations, with the help of shrouple or otherwise, have never been clearer. I will soon be with the Gardener. He calls me to help him nourish the garden from beyond.
“My son,” said Cunac turning to Sarenen. “As soon as I awoke I knew the right path for Pachamama and the Listeners here.”
Sarenen, who had practised hard at hiding his emotions, was really struggling at this moment. He was torn between a loving son who doted on his father and the True Listener his father had trained him to be. On the inside he was ripped in two. Outwardly he physically wobbled slightly and did not move his gaze from his father. In that gaze he found strength. If he moved his gaze he was worried he would empty his bowels again.
“Father, plea… please continue.” Sarenen said his voice hitching slightly. “Tell me the path we must take. I have shared the last two days with you and I am not enlightened!”
Ma’Kusi reached for another log and wished that there were windows that would open in the sma
ll room, not just skylights!
Da’Cince tried to talk but had to stifle a sniff. “Against tradition your father has come to ask that we agree to make you Chief Listener of Pachamama. As you know this decision is normally taken after the passing of the previous Chief Listener following a gathering between the Senior Wilaq and the Ma and Da of the realm. Cunac is asking that we make you the Chief Listener now. He said that as a sign you would arrive here unbidden by us or himself and at the time and in the manner he predicted. You have arrived exactly at the time and in the demeanour, prophesied. According to your father this would be the first proof that the Great Gardener had ordained you as the Chief Listener of Pachamama. He stated that this should not be ignored by us or the Senior Wilaq.” Da’Cince finished sounding sceptical.
“I understand that this is against all generations of tradition but in my heart and to my core I believe I have prophesied three things today,” said Cunac. “I will pass within two days, Sarenen will be my successor and that at the time of my death the Punku to WaytaPata will open to let my soul through to tend the Garden.”
Sarenen’s legs did go from under him as his father spoke and he was glad he’d emptied his bladder so thoroughly. Ma’Kusi sat down heavily at this revelation. Da’Cince stood tall and stared at his old friend and sparring partner. Cunac had often kept him straight when he’d been considering the big decisions that kept Pachamama safe and fed. He needed to repay a lifetime of service now. The old man had finally had too much shrouple.
“My friend, I am saddened and concerned by your prophecy. I cannot begin to understand how you came to this conclusion or how you came to believe it.” Da’Cince had decided to go for an empathic approach and he was damn sure he was not going to let Cunac degrade himself through a shrouple induced delusion. “I can only believe you feel that you have completed your life's work?”
“Oh stop being the diplomat, Cince!” said Ma’Kusi. “Cunac, you’ve been on the shrouple too long. It has ruined your mind, for now at least. You need a bath in the river, a good meal. And sleep! We can then talk about this. You are embarrassing yourself and your son.”
“Ah, my friends. I love you both, and of course my son, but you misjudge me and my situation. I am grateful that you both care for me and are trying to make me see sense in your own ways. Ma’Kusi, your bluntness is a cold bath in itself. I am glad to tell you that I agree a bath, a meal and sleep would be welcome, but I must also tell you that I have not had any shrouple in three days and two days ago I had an epiphany. It was then the three prophecies I have just spoken of became clear to me. I have spent the last two days in quiet meditation contemplating my final actions in this Realm. That is why I am here now.”
At this final piece of news Sarenen gave up and asked if he could sit down. Da’Cince offered him a seat next to his father and Ma’Kusi smiled at him warmly. In that moment she saw a son coming to terms with a troubled and difficult father whom he loved. As a mother she could empathise. No bluntness required. She went to the side and picked up a jug and poured everyone a glass of water.
The four sat and chatted a little longer as old friends but soon Cunac and Sarenen left for their baths, a meal and sleep. They all arranged to meet before sunset at the quadrant.
Cunac and Sarenen walked down to the river via Sarenen’s home to fetch some clean tunics. The sun was out that day but not warm. Bathing in the river would be invigorating and would freshen the mind as much as the body.
Once bathed and in clean robes they sat in the sun and watched the river, not as Cauca loved to watch the river but purely because it was there to watch. To them the river was a necessary function of life. Not a thing of beauty as it was to Cauca.
“Father,” started Sarenen, “I have been with you for almost three days now and I have been going over my memories of those days. I must apologise to you. I am so accustomed to your consumption of shrouple that I did not notice you were not drinking it the whole time I’ve been with you. I am now aware of your devotion to prayer and meditation during this time.” Sarenen was now also remembering the prayers he had been praying and was ashamed of them and scared of them in equal measure. He continued, “I was terrified that in a moment of weakness you could have unwittingly exposed the True Listeners or the Guild of The Punku. The consequences…”
“Would have ruined all our hard work and put many of our disciples in danger.”
“Your disciples, Father.”
“No son. I was not lying earlier, I am about to pass and you shall be my successor. However, I did not truly explain how I arrived at my prophecies, especially that the Punku will open to let me through.”
“Father, you are scaring me and I have never been scared by you.”
“Remind me, Sarenen, why we began the True Listeners, indulge me,” replied Cunac.
“…To lead Listeners home, back to our true home, WaytaPata. To provide all DiPacha with our rightful resources that WaytaPata holds and to rescue WaytaPata from the corruption and destruction of those humans who have had the privilege of living in paradise and who have wasted and ruined that paradise, the Garden.”
“You bring joy to me whenever I hear you speak like that, Sarenen. You are the greatest gift. And I know I can rely on you to see this done. Sadly I will not be here in person. The task is too great for one lifetime. However, what I discovered while meditating was a way to bring the day of WaytaPata’s deliverance and our reinstatement as the True Guardians closer.” Cunac was so assured in the words he spoke, as if describing the fact the sun would rise each morning that Sarenen had no thoughts of doubt.
“Father, please explain,” said Sarenen.
“It is so simple really. I am ashamed that my reliance on shrouple has delayed my realisation of this truth. I know how and why the Punku open, we have suspected it for cycles now. The common occurrence was the storms at the place they call Stonehenge. The Punku temple we know of on WaytaPata.”
“Yes, Father. This is suspected.”
“What we did not connect was lightning. I was with Illary in the workshop recently and we had been reviewing a recent science emission from the thing they call TV. It had focused on the power of lightning and how it was electricity, a type of energy. This makes sense. To open the Punku would require energy, do you not think?”
“I suppose, Father, but how does this help? We cannot command this electricity like they can on WaytaPata or make lightning,” said Sarenen.
“You are almost correct, son,” said Cunac smiling like he knew the best secret in the world. He looked at his son and then out across the river to the dry plain beyond and grinned. Cunac felt a satisfaction he had never known before. He knew he would die but he also knew this knowledge changed everything and he had unwavering faith that his son would see their people home and WaytaPata delivered.
“Father! Please continue. I do not understand why this will help our cause, let alone why this would cause you to die!”
“My son. You know I love you. I always will. In this Realm or across all DiPacha. We can control lightning enough to open the Punku. At the time I did not realise the knowledge I was gaining but recently the humans on Earth have developed a black rock which seems to be very similar to the black rock we have here. One thing this rock can do is move and attract electricity. Also, five days ago we saw a forecast that predicted a storm around the Stonehenge area. Illary even commented that ‘It looked like the one that brought her Betts to her’. It was only while meditating that I realised the two could be connected. If I am close enough to the Punku on this side with enough black rock, about a foot square of it, I believe I can attract the lightning from WaytaPata and open the Punku. I am convinced.” Cunac beamed at his son.
Sarenen looked at his father for a long time and realised he was feeling sorry for him. He himself was not convinced. This sounded like a gamble at best and a delusion at worst. Illary would call it an experiment.
“Father,” said Sarenen as he looked for the right words. He was now really
worried that shrouple had taken his father's mind. “I love you too.” It was a feeble thing to say and gave no commitment either way. “This is a lot to understand on little food or sleep. Your insights, as always, inspire me. Let us go to our homes and get some food and sleep. I will call for you before we go to see the Da and Ma at the quadrant and we can discuss this in detail on the walk to them.”
Cunac smiled at his son. He expected no less of him. He was playing his father as he should. Cunac was no less sure of his conclusions however and was even more sure his son had the skills to navigate and manipulate his way to their goal. He nodded. They stood and turned from the river back into Millham and to their homes for much required food, drink and maybe sleep.
15.1The day that changed the future
Cunac ate a little and slept less. He still needed one thing for his plan to work, he one thing he was grateful his son had not asked about. He needed to slip out of Millham to the far side of the river and he needed was going to take time which he had little of.
Cunac found an old tunic that he had not worn in many seasons. He also found a hat, he had never worn a hat that he could remember. It must have been left by a visitor. Cunac put on the unusual clothes and stood as tall as he could trying to shed the years to appear younger than he knew he was. He strode out the door full of adrenalin. Hunger and fatigue no longer had meaning for him. Pain was just a mild irritation that could be ignored through sheer will to achieve his goal. Cunac marched through Millham to the bridge over the river on the downstream side of the city. Anyone who knew him would not have recognised him. Once over the bridge he turned up stream and walked to a small area of overgrown shrubs within which grew a herb used by the physicians to ease the terminally ill. Only a small amount was needed to bring on a blissful sleep. A pinch left to stew in a cup of water did the trick. Cunac found the herb quickly. It had a thick dark green stem with thick fleshy leaves that oozed a sweet smelling liquid and a single small white flower. The innocent looking little plant belied the truth of its power over life. It was known as the ‘Passing Lily’. Cunac picked a handful of them and put them in a woven bag he had brought with him.
Disconnected (Connected series Book 1) Page 21
