by Ava D. Dohn
*
In a series of small side chambers leading to the main temple where the girl was being prepared, many hands were busy turning dials and operating strange-looking machines of sorts. Drorli explained, “I assume that Mother could have made things much easier for her children had she wanted to, but she is known to make us work hard for our reward. The reason, I believe, is that she feels we will appreciate the end result more if we have struggled a bit to make it succeed. So it is with these rejuvenating machines. Many are the helpers needed to maintain a constant vigil over the operation or things may go awry, and we would have to start over again.”
He grinned, watching a troubled frown grow on Symeon’s face. “Don’t worry, my friend. Your little girl is in right fine shape… well… at least this time round.” He chuckled to watch Symeon wince at this last statement.
Over a dozen temple assistants busied themselves with various duties. Symeon was overwhelmed with wonderment. “Why all these machines to rebuild such a small body?” He asked Drorli. “When I walked in the world of men, the miracles I witnessed were instantaneous. Why all the people and machines?”
Drorli smiled. “A reasonable question, my friend, and there are several reasonable answers to it. When the repairs or what you call ‘miracles’ were made to your kind, often Mother and the Lady were directing them, and with our Mihai, the very powers of the Immortals were funneled through her, so that even a touch of Mihai’s clothing was enough to heal some people. Plus, in most cases, the mind need not have been returned to the dead flesh, it not yet being truly dead, so there was merely the rebuilding of the body that was done.”
“You see,” Drorli went on to explain, “the mind that is beyond the flesh gathers around itself some of the hidden energy of the universe. That energy becomes what some call the person’s ‘aura’, meaning ‘invisible self’. This aura slowly ebbs and flows in power and force. The more content and comfortable we are, the weaker the force, thus allowing or even desiring the aura of a trusted companion to draw nearer to it, to us. When someone willingly shares his or her dreams, it is the energy of the auras that create the feeling of being drawn into each other. Without the power of the aura, there could be no dream share.”
Drorli stepped back, looking around the room. “There is so much more I could tell you about this energy or aura, but time does not permit. There are entire volumes of our scientific journals filled with aura theory and study. There have been millennia of research and philosophical thought given to the subject, and still much of what we believe concerning it is conjecture and assumption on our part.”
“We do understand a few things about it, though. This energy field, aura, dissipates gradually in death. We feel it is designed in this way to prevent the mind from escaping prematurely should someone become severely damaged in the flesh, thus giving the powers of the flesh time to correctly communicate with the mind as to its fate, helping the mind decide whether it should remain and wait to see if the flesh of the person will survive.”
An attendant called out to Drorli with a question. He excused himself to check on the attendant’s needs. In a moment the man returned, making brief comment concerning what was currently happening, and then he continued.
“Depending upon the circumstances, and there are too many to discuss here, the aura may encourage the mind to linger long after the body has given up on life, many hours possibly, or even a day or two under extreme conditions. We, the children don’t consider a person truly deceased until we feel his mind completely departed the flesh, until we feel it gone from the body.”
“It is for this reason, we believe, that the aura may long hold the mind to a nonliving body. That you witnessed with your teacher’s decisive actions regarding Lazarus’ death and return to life. By waiting three days, time for the man’s body to be stinking, it could be proved to all in the realms above and below that Mother could return life to the truly dead. Though Asotos chose to at first publicly deny that event, charging it to be a ‘mere trick,’ he was later forced to recant his accusation because so many of his followers did accept the event as fact, he then changing his story to claim that power to return life lay hidden within the Palace, the man unwilling to give any of that credit to Mother.”
“It is for the reason that the aura is a power of energy unto itself, drawing its strength from other sources beyond this universe, so that it may long linger even after the flesh has been removed to another place. If a person’s death is unexpected - violent, let’s say - life being ripped from the flesh, possibly thus shocking the entire energy system, the aura may long hold the mind in suspension, for some time… possibly years, wrapping its energy force around the mind and retarding its return to the Web.” Drorli raised a finger, gesturing. “This may also happen at times with animals… in a little different way, but that is another theorem for another time.”
“So it may be, when someone dies unexpectedly, violently, or when the flesh surrenders itself of the mind too quickly, the mind and aura may linger in the vicinity for some time before the aura’s energy weakens and dissipates. Those who are sensitive to their own auras may well feel the presence of the lingering minds, thus come to believe that the person still lives in some way. This feeling is common on the old battlefields, even in this world, and it is often the reason why so many soldiers desire to return to their old haunts.”
Symeon piped in. “This is interesting information, and happy will I be to sit in rapt silence beside a warm fire while you’re contented to spend the evening extolling these secrets to me. But I would like to know what this has to do at all with my little girl?”
Drorli smiled, apologizing. “I am very good at explaining in many words what could be said in a few. I didn’t intend to turn this into a dissertation. My reason for discussing this was to answer you former question, ‘why all the attendants and machines to bring back only one person?’”
“You see, to repair the flesh is a relatively easy matter, that is, with the proper machinery of course. We have copied the designs of these machines found here to create the healing machines we use to assist our wounded soldiers to recuperate and heal more quickly. Still, it is mostly by the manipulation of the surrounding harmonics that the physical process is accomplished. When one plays in the lands of the Web and the energy fields of the auras, one must play by different rules. We are only the apprentices wielding the tools belonging to master-craftsmen whose powers and wisdom we can only assume. We are at the mercy of their designs and must play by their rules, or we shall not succeed at all.”
Drorli waved his hand about while pointing toward various machines. “It takes us many days of preparation and process to return one of your kind to life. It is the way the Makers of this temple chose it to be. We have been working on your girl for weeks now, making her body just so, making it as perfect as we possibly can. She is a marvel of engineering, one of our best creations.” He grinned. “Notice I said one of our best.”
He looked at Hanna, searching her form with his eyes. “I was so proud when your flesh was delivered back to life. You were already so beautiful by nature that it was an easy thing to adjust the mathematics of the machines to finish you up just so. And when you first awoke in that tiny room we had prepared for you, and as I watched your eyes flutter awake… I seeing you through secret windows in a hidden room… I fell in love with you at that moment. It was such an easy thing to do.”
Hanna blushed, unable to make reply.
“So!” Drorli looked back at Symeon, “We have been diligent at reinventing the flesh of your girl, but the returning of her spirit and all that goes with the process has been time-consuming. Her mind must learn to accept its new home, for the flesh it remembers was not only imperfect, but was also made from the elements borne of your universe. Though the elements here appear to you to be the same, their nature is different, they designed that way… or so the Ancients have said… permitting many universes to
exist together without interfering with the laws of the others. Now that’s a different theorem study of scientific thought…one that I will not attempt today.”
“My friend!” Drorli patted Symeon on the shoulder, “We put your little girl back together just so, making her one of the most beautiful creatures we have delivered to this place.” He paused, looking at Hanna.
Hanna blushed again.
“That!” He grinned, “The flesh was our creation! Now we have become the faithful workers for the Caretakers of these worlds, carefully gathering the hidden elements of their universes so that life can reawake again in the child’s mind, and she can be returned safely to you. It is an arduous, painstaking process, and one we dare not rush. It must be timed perfectly or your girl might either linger in a coma, awaiting the mind’s waking to its senses, or she may be traumatized and suffer torrid dreams and unpleasant headaches for a long time. We must do things just right.”
The hiss! and clack! of a sealed door opening suddenly fell upon the trio’s ears. A suited woman with long, golden tresses done up tight about her head, carrying a clear crystal helmet, passed through the doorway, quickly closing the door behind her. She hurried over to Drorli, offering salutations to the others as she neared.
With a smile, the woman recommended, “I believe it’s time for you three to suit up. We finished the thro-bissea-dashon process and are beginning the blood flow. I believe the heart will begin pumping momentarily. If you’ll all follow me, I’ll assist you with the preparations that will permit you entry into the clean room.”
In a short while the four had managed to suit up and had exited the cleansing chambers. Now they stood before the sealed, domed crystal sarcophagus that contained the body of Symeon’s child. Murky fluid that had been used during the process where inert elements in the genetic strands of DNA were replaced with the actual Web particles of the girl’s mind was slowly draining away, exposing the naked flesh of the girl reborn.
Symeon fussed a little when the girl’s natural beauty was revealed, but quickly forgot that when he witnessed her lungs take their first gasp of air and heard, through special listening devices inside the sarcophagus, the quiet thump, thump, thump of the child’s beating heart.
“She’s alive!” Symeon shouted through the speaking tube inside his helmet, jumping up and down in excitement. “She’s alive! My little girl lives!”
Hanna took Symeon’s hand, smiling, while Drorli grinned, replying, “Well, she almost lives. Right now you are watching the mechanics of her body coming to life, actually much in the same way your first ancestor did. It will still take some time, a day or two, for the Web particles of the mind to fully attach themselves to the flesh and wake.”
He rested his hand on the crystal cover, looking down upon the girl, adding, “Our child will not be officially alive until this ongoing process reaches completion. This interlude between life and… and however you wish to describe it is called the ‘vision hour’. The very process of the mind’s reintegration will cause profound dreams and visions, some being remembered into revived consciousness. It is also a time when Mother might play in the person’s mind, filling the head with all kinds of wonderful visions and prophecies.”
Drorli looked up at Symeon. “I believe that Mother will do a lot of that with the child. Already she has played with her while our girl slept in the Field of the Minds. I doubt Mother will stop now - not now when she is so close to having her little darling near to completion.”
Hanna laughed. “You speak as though our girl is but a toy of Lowenah’s.”
It was Drorli’s turn to laugh. “Why should you think I meant anything different? Mother never works. She plays at everything she does. Everything… all of her creations are her playthings. Oh yes, the Rebellion has hurt her, almost destroyed her heart, but it is still a game to her. Everything has always been a game.”
“How can that be so?” Hanna asked, confused. “How can she view all this terrible wickedness and destruction as a game? It makes no sense to me.”
“That’s because…” Drorli gently poked Hanna on the arm. “That’s because you view playing through the mind of a child. What you do not see is that Mother never expected that inner child in us to ever go away. She made us to always be busy at play. Work and toil are inventions of an evil age. Mother refuses to gather her heart up into that mindset, so she continues to play at everything she does.”
The girl suddenly let out a howling cry, quickly followed by some rambling mumbles as her eyes fluttered open and then closed. Symeon cried out in despair and then joy as tears streamed down his face. “She spoke! My little child spoke! She spoke to me!”
Drorli attempted to explain to him that it was only the mechanics of the body responding to electrochemical charges surging through an awakening brain. Symeon would have none of it. The girl had spoken to him. He knew it and would believe nothing else. Drorli silently smiled, letting Symeon have it his way.
For the better part of two hours, the four remained beside the crystal sarcophagus. Symeon and Hanna learned the attendant’s name was EurwhaNeehaa, that the woman was a child born in the latter part of the First Age, and that she and Drorli had a very close relationship that went back before the age of their own star system. Eurwha was a pleasant, patient-natured person much like Drorli, but she was more serious in disposition.
Finally it was time to depart, Eurwha urging Symeon on with encouragement. Gently taking his arm, she slowly led him toward the exit chamber. “Possibly on the morrow we will be delivering your girl to her new home. We are depending on you and dear Hanna to have everything ready for the child’s awakening. Remember, the less the shock to her senses, the faster she will gather her wits to this place, which means the sooner she will be ready for your company.”
Symeon longingly looked back over his shoulder, nodding dreamily. “Yes, I have much to do, and there is so much I wish to tell her, so many things from that day long ago.”
Eurwha took Symeon’s arm, gently moving him along. “It will come. It will come. Much sooner than you realize, it will come.”
Later, when alone with the two, Drorli spoke about Eurwha. “War is so destructive, ruins so many wonderful things. Eurwha was such a carefree, happy person when the world was innocent.” He sadly frowned. “The woman was badly broken when a flaming wall collapsed on her during a bombing raid at our outpost on Stargaton. When we dug her out of the rubble, I could not believe her still alive. Along with so many bleeding fractures and severe burns, Eurwha’s skull was nearly crushed. She eventually healed, but something inside her head changed. It was many years before I saw a smile cross her lips again, and not a laugh have I heard from her since that day over a thousand years ago.”
He grinned, winsome. “Eurwha’s a good, dear, lovely companion. I personally requested her company on my team when the offer was made me to set up the rejuvenation machines for the delivery of your kind to this place. She has assisted me with the arrival of every one of your kind, her pleasant face often the first of my kind that your people see after waking into this world. If your kind carries a single vision of angels in their heads, I assume it should be that of Eurwha’s soft, smiling face as she welcomes them into our world.”
