Birth Of A Goddess

by Mark T. Bacome

  “How is our mother-to-be?” Novia asked Mar'ya, as she entered to see Presley1833.

  “If feeling as though my body is about to explode from the inside is normal, than I feel VERY normal,”

  Presley1833 believed was the correct response, laying back on a pile a warm animal fur-skins.

  “Twins will do that,” Mar'ya assured, before reaching over to pat Novia's small but growing belly as well. “Is your life-partner allowing you rest and food as I have instructed?”

  “Yes--yes, Damus and I have been following your instructions,” Novia assured. “I am fine. My duty today is to check on these little ones.” Novia placed her hand on Presley1833's belly. She could feel a sense of

  anxiousness, but no particular stress from the babies inside.

  “These little ones will be ready to arrive within another Luna'Rai,” Mar'ya confirmed. “This new motherto-be, is doing much better than she believes.” Mar'ya gave Presley1833 a knowing glance of assurance and a wink.

  “Have your heard from Presley1490 and 1567?” Novia asked Presley1833.

  “They are still helping to find more of the original homes of those taken from Earth to the moon sites, but they have assured they will return in time for the extraction process,” Presley1833 replied.

  “Extraction...” Mar'ya scoffed. “That will be a process they will not want to see.”

  Presley1625 poked her head back into the cutout. “In the interest of science--Novia, can you tell me what positions of entry Damus used for your impregnation? We wish to compare the various positions for effectiveness and--”

  Mar'ya turned and waved off Presley1625 once more. “Shu-shu! Not an appropriate question.”

  Novia could feel the heat on her cheeks, but couldn't help chuckle at the question. “Even in the interest of science--that answer will be left untold.”

  “Are we keeping secrets now?” Damus poked his head inside the cutout.

  “In the interest of scientific knowledge, I am trying to find out--”

  “SHU!” Mar'ya waved off Presley1625 once more.

  “You told me this morning you would be down the canyon at the village today,” Novia said.

  “Yes, but something happened last night. Ayden told me this morning, and had me check it out--”

  “What? What happened?” Novia asked with concern.

  “I'm not sure I can explain--you need to come see,” Damus scooped an arm around Novia to guide her out.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The Chichi memorial...there is someone there.”

  *** The summer trees had already turned bright orange and yellow, as the first frosts had arrived a Luna'Rai ago. Novia pulled her wrap further up over her shoulders as she and Damus took the well-groomed, and rock-paved path further up the canyon to the Chichi memorial site. Novia felt something different in the air, when she first heard the song of the night-singers through the distant trees--not at all usual for a mid-morning.

  After several hundred paces, the song of the nightsingers died down, with only the sound of a lone voice, but not like the rest. Turning a corner around a bluff, Novia could see what Damus was talking about--a small figure knelt down, in a long dark coat, with a cover pulled over his head, wailing in front of the life-like statue of Chichi that Ca'li had created. The female night-singer who had been guarding the site since the beginning, was sitting, leaning on the small figure, as though comforting.

  Damus stopped and allowed Novia to approach on her own. She could sense a familiarity with the small figure and knelt down on the opposite side from the night-singer. The small figure fell silent, then turned and removed his hood. Even with a clear view, Novia had to take a moment to recognize the visitor. He had shoulder-length brown and gray hair, that was only beginning to hide several scars on the back and sides of his head. His eyes were swollen and red, with dried tear stains down his cheeks.

  “I can't cry anymore--the tear-ducts are dry, and yet I still feel the pain inside. The pain isn't stopping,” the small visitor complained with a hoarse voice. “Toolkit?”

  The visitor nodded.

  “You--you have eyes--”

  “I removed every implant,” Toolkit answered, his voice

  still gruff. “I came back to honor Chichi--to grieve like everyone else, but--”

  “But?”

  Toolkit slumped further down. “I must be doing something wrong.”

  Novia could feel his pain, so strong and so deep. “Why do you think so?”

  “I have been here all night--cried all night, and still, I can't stop the pain inside. When will I have cried enough to stop this pain?”

  Novia moved closer to put an arm around Toolkit, holding him close. “There are never enough tears for that...”

  “Then how do I make it stop?”

  Novia began a slow rocking motion, holding Toolkit. “You either allow the pain to continue, and begin to destroy the life you have, or you strengthen your resolve and allow the pain to be controlled.”

  “Then the pain goes away?”

  “The pain of loss never truly goes away, but if you grow strength from your loss, honor your loved one with growth within your life, the pain becomes like a badge of strength and perseverance. Only then you are able to manage the pain, manage the loss, and live the life you were meant to.”

  Toolkit allowed Novia to continue her rocking motion, taking in the soothing properties and digesting her comment. “So either allow the pain to consume me, or-somehow--grow strength from this experience and conquer the pain,” Toolkit reworded with a tone of resolve.

  Novia continued to hold Toolkit, rocking and stroking the new hair on top of his head. “Yes.”

  After a long while of consolation, Toolkit motioned toward the statue. “Who created that perfect likeness?”

  “Ca'li--”

  “Who?”

  “Li,” Novia refined her answer.

  Toolkit got up to take a closer look. The statue was a combination of Chichi and a night-singer, mid-song, an exact enlargement of the carving Chichi carried. Chichi had his right hand on the back of the night-singer, and held his left hand close to his chest with his fingers in a position, as though holding something, but there was nothing there.

  Novia could see Toolkit was fixing his gaze on Chichi's left hand. “We have often wondered the reasoning behind his hand position since the statue was created. No one can come up with a reasonable explanation.”

  Toolkit nodded. “I believe I can answer that.” He pulled open his long coat and reached inside to an inner pocket. He pulled out a small cube-shaped item that Novia did not recognize. “Many years ago, I found an AI file slated for disposal. I recovered and repaired the AI file, but I needed to keep it close during the early stages of recovery. So I created this--Internal Conscience Environment Cube, to carry him with me at all times. I never named the AI, but called him by this device name-ICE-cube. ICE-cube was always with me. I never said so-but I loved him. I later found out ICE-cube had an original name--Chi, when Cain terminated him. I never thought I would hurt like that again. Later Chi seemed to have reappeared here in the form of this little human, Chichi. Some people may think this a coincidence--”

  “There are no coincidences,” Novia assured. “And I have it on excellent authority, you are correct.”

  “This was Chi's--Chichi's first home,” Toolkit's voice cracked, as he placed the cube into the fingers of the statue. With a light press, the cube clicked into place--a perfect fit.

  “Li has assured me, that Chichi's paths and yours were meant to cross. I know you will overcome this obstacle, this pain, and honor Chichi's passing with strength and endurance,” Novia pronounced.

  “I will try my best,” he said pulling another small object from his coat. “I have one other thing for you, to give the Presleys for me.” Toolkit handed Novia the small device. “I have found the cause of the Loki Mia. This data cube has the details and solutions, so that no else need suffer. The Presleys will know wh
at to do with this.” Toolkit held out his other hand, and the female night-singer nuzzled his palm, standing by his side.

  “You're leaving again? Where will you go now?”

  “While I was here before, I learned of a few of the traditions of the clans. The 'Growth Walk' intrigued me, and I believe that tradition may hold an even greater meaning for me now. This is a large planet to explore--in honor of Chichi, and my new friend here--I will do just that.”

  “But if you don't take enough Corporate food, you'll begin to change,” Novia warned.

  “As I said earlier. I have removed all Corporate implants. Those changes have already begun, there is no turning back now,” Toolkit explained as he and the nightsinger walked toward a game trail leading off the Chichi Memorial site.

  “You will always be welcomed here--you have a home here, Toolkit,” Novia called out. Toolkit waved but continued until out of sight.

  “May Shola Rai and Ca'li both keep you safe,” Novia whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek.

  Damus put his arm around Novia. “He will be fine. I am certain he has a lot of eyes watching over him.”

  ***

  Epilogue

  The longhouse was packed with the Pe'Atchdi's of many clans, past and present, as well as their apprentices and immediate families, as they gathered for the annual teaching of the stories. The great Pe'Atchdi Anali sat upon the seat of honor, waving her arms to emphasize her most popular story, ending with one final whoosh, her hands held high, and everyone in the room holding his or her collective breath.

  “And that--is the story of the Birth of a Goddess,” Anali finished strong, though her voice showed the signs of every one of her one hundred and twenty-five Shola Si life. The room erupted in applause as young hands raised, finally allowed to ask questions. The front rows were filled with Anali's granddaughters, great granddaughters, great, great, granddaughter and her great, great, great granddaughter, the most recent inductee Pe'Atchdi apprentice, six Shola Si old, Anora’li, her hand held high. In an attempt to not show favoritism, Anali picked the hand of a young woman standing in the back.

  “I'm not from around here, have Kutch and Alex ever been back to the repository?”

  “Yes my dear, they are often bringing new additions, although they have been gone a few Shola Si this last time.”

  Another young woman, apprentice to a nearby clan Pe'Atchdi stood with her hand held high, and Anali called on her next.

  “You call Ca'li a Goddess, but many claimed Ca'li appeared as a great male warrior--how can that be?” Many others nodded with confusion.

  Anali noted several of the younger ones, also looking confused. “The great Ca'li is neither--boy or girl,” Anali explained, more toward the younger ones. “But the great Ca'li appears to each person as he or she needs, or desires to see. I remember the great Ca'li from before--as Li, young, beautiful--and I have kept that memory here...” Anali touched her crystalline scar on her chest. “And here,” she continued and touched the dark streak of hair over her left eye that accentuated the rest of her braided, silver-gray hair down her back. “And so, I saw Ca'li as a beautiful young woman, and she will forever be in my mind, a Goddess.”

  “Your hair was streaked with white once, though-right?” another young girl called out without raising her hand. Many chuckled throughout the room.

  “Yes my dear. My hair was once a beautiful auburn color like yours, and the great Ca'li gave me the streak, like hers--as a sign of the promise. But time does take its toll,” Anali answered, still keeping a gleam in her eye. The room again rumbled with chuckling.

  Anora’li raised her hand once more with patience, and Anali could no longer keep her waiting.

  “Yes, my dear Anora’li?”

  “What was the promise?”

  Anali took a moment, and wiped at the corner of her eye. “Ca'li made a promise, that I would one day see her again.”

  “Did she keep her promise?” a voice rang out from the back.

  “She will, I have no doubts.”

  More questions followed without waiting, and Anali's granddaughter Amur’andria stood to calm the gathering down. “My grandmother, the great Pe'Atchdi Anali is tired, and needs some rest. Please be sure to visit the Kutch and Alex, Tara'Arth, Earth Memorial Repository for more answers to your questions.”

  Anali leaned forward toward Anora’li. “Could you please stay and help an old woman to her chambers?”

  Anora’li nodded with excitement, but Amur’Andria stepped in. “I will help you Grandmother, I--”

  “Anora’li is quite capable,” Anali insisted with a sharp tone and a look to match.

  “If you insist,” Amur’Andria relented with a bow. She had learned long ago, to never argue with her

  Grandmother, or the great Pe'Atchdi.

  “I can help you, Nanna,” Anora’li reassured.

  “Good girl--take my hand,” Anali asked, holding her walking staff in one hand and Anora’li by the other. They took slow, measured, steps down the corridor to Anali's resting chambers.

  “Did you enjoy the stories today?”

  “Oh yes, Nanna. I love your story most.”

  “Someday you will recite the story at the ritual meetings. You will need to know the story well--own it, as if a piece of yourself,” Anali said, walking slower the further they traveled. Anali was thankful the corridor was short, and Anora’li helped her to the bed when they reached the chamber.

  “I will learn every word, just the way you teach me and--”

  “I'm afraid, that will not be possible, my little Anora’li. Help me to lay down please.”

  Anora’li helped her Nanna lift her legs onto the bed and lay down. “Why not?” Anora’li asked with the innocence only a child could hold.

  “Ca'li is about to keep her promise, and I wanted you to be here when she does,” Anali whispered.

  At that moment Anora’li noticed a great light appearing from the wall behind. Standing there was a towering, beautiful young woman with a flowing, glowing gown, silver white hair with a dark streak over her left eye. When Anora’li turned to let Nanna know what she was seeing, she noticed her Nanna standing next to the bed, only much younger--the older version still laying on the bed, as though fast asleep.

  “I knew you would keep your promise,” Anali said with joy to Ca'li.

  “Are you leaving, Nanna?” Anora’li asked. “Are you taking my Nanna far away?” She turned to Ca'li with concern.

  “I am taking Anali to the New Realm, but not so far away as you may think,” Ca'li knelt down to face Anora’li. Ca'li's voice was vibrant yet soothing.

  “Will I ever see my Nanna again?”

  “Yes, my dear Anora’li,” Anali assured. “In your teachings to come, you will learn of many things, and we shall meet again. I will be watching over you.”

  “Will I ever see YOU again?” Anora’li turned and asked Ca'li.

  “Dear Anora’li--you are a descendant of a new and sacred lineage. If you hold me in your heart,” Ca'li touched the little girl’s chest and a crystalline design appeared. “And in your mind,” Ca'li touched the little girl over the left eye, causing a streak of white hair to appear. “Then, you will see me again on your day of crossing. Know that upon that very moment, I will come to guide you to the New Realm--a promise I will keep.”

  Ca'li stood and Anali stepped by her side as the wall glowed once again beyond Anora’li’s ability to watch. When the light dissipated, Ca'li and her Nanna were gone.

  Amur’Andria was concerned when she thought she saw a bright light coming from down the corridor, and came into the room to find Anora’li staring at the wall.

  “What's wrong--OH, NO!” Amur’Andria exclaimed as she recognized the signs that Anali had passed.

  “I saw Ca'li,” Anora’li spoke softly, certain something great and wonderful had just happened, but unsure how to describe the event.

  Amur’andria recognized the markings of the Ca'li on the child and fell to her knees next t
o her great, granddaughter. Anora’li's mother heard a commotion down the corridor and followed next.

  “Momma, I saw Ca'li,” Anora’li again announced. This time other family members heard the child as well, and the news soon spread throughout to the rest of the village and beyond.

  Anora’li had been witness to an old promise kept, a new promise made, and the next generation of believers created.

  ***

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Mark T. Bacome has an extensive creative background ranging from professional musician, graphic artist, published cartoonist and writer/director/producer of several thousand radio and television commercials.

  Descendants, Hereditary Evil, Body of Souls and Birth of a Goddessare his first attempts at full-length novel writing. Mark has a degree in Computer Network Engineering, and as of this writing is a senior computer analyst on a government contract. He lives with his wife and daughter in Washington and is an avid hiker and backpacker. Although he is not yet able to quit his day job, he does have aspirations to continue writing and publishing many more novels, covering various genres. Mark can be reached for comment through his website at www.marktbacome.com.