Like a dying star she literally felt her mind collapsing in on itself. She heard her voice, distant and disembodied.
“Zen is an expression of that which is beyond expression. Zen does not exist, so therefore it must exist. I am that which I am, therefore I am not that which I am not and I am not that which I am.”
Deliberately pushing, the Roshi shouted at her. “You’re talking in riddles. Have you learned nothing? Are you Zen or not?” He saw the look on her face change and he knew she was teetering on the brink.
She exhaled deeply. A single tear ran down her cheek. “There is no Zen. There is nothing at all.”
The collapsing star of her mind reached a point of zero volume and infinite density, and like a star, in that moment it went supernova.
In that moment she was. Gone in that instant were the façades and constraints that mankind allowed its physically to suggest were reality. Her very being reached the ends of existence itself. It did so because she saw that she was existence itself. She started laughing, laughing at her life. She saw the sublime humour in the deep dichotomies of space-time and relativity. She laughed at her attempts to master the intracies of these paradoxes. She laughed at the cosmic joke, a joke that she’d made up herself and then allowed herself to forget the punch line in order to enjoy the experience of rediscovering it.
In that moment of timelessness she saw her life with a deep love. She recalled a line from Paramahansa Yogananda that expressed the sensation to perfection. An oceanic joy broke upon calm endless shores of my soul. She laughed again as she realised she was Paramahansa and that Paramahansa did not exist, as she’d made him up, as indeed he’d made her up. Therefore, she couldn’t exist either. A delicious dichotomy, yet now to her perfectly understandable. An unrestrained love pounded through her. Indeed she comprehended that it was her. It was what she was. It was all there was. In that instant she needed to express this, so exquisite was the sensation. She reached out in her bliss and saw she could do this in any way she wished. She relished the fact that she now remembered that the rediscovery of the truth was part of the joy of the truth itself. It always had been. It was what she had been doing forever.
It was time to set herself a new program. She anticipated the delicious adventure.
This time she’d make it really difficult to remember.
- The End -
CONSEQUENCES
That he loved her was the one true certainty in his existence. Indeed, he knew his love for her was so strong it actually defined that which he was. When apart, his being ached for her, so unbearable was the experience. He could almost not remember a time when he had not known her and now even the thought of that far off time gave him hurt. The pain of his non-completeness before he had encountered her still lingered. Now, so perfect was their union, he found it difficult to define where he ended and she began. Her very beingness engulfed him totally. The stark contrast of her sublime femininity entwined perfectly with his representation of masculinity. He regarded her as way beyond being his partner…she was fifty percent of one entity…a delicious symbiosis where the equation equalled bliss.
He considered the statement, a delicious symbiosis where the equation equalled bliss. It was an insight that gave him satisfaction. It was as a result of equations that they had come together, a shared interest that lesser minds referred to as mathematics and physics. The truth was, as they had grown and worked together, they had long passed the mere intellectual interrogation of quantum and celestial mechanics and had moved, with a perfect union of thought, into realms of comprehending and quantifying the very dynamics of existence itself.
Her passion for him was all consuming. Her first love had been questioning that which was at the wild frontier where science collides with metaphysics. His intellect had invaded her psyche with a jarring shock that had left her dizzy with its effect. Numbed by this welcome and unique intrusion, she had joined with him and experienced a depth of feeling she knew immediately she could never lack again. When he was with her she was complete, pure and simple. They had journeyed beyond passion and love…they now simply were. Their relationship existed in the realm where words were inadequate.
And now, when they worked and thought together, they vibrated in perfect unison. They no longer considered equations…they felt them. In harmony they now saw the intricate lattices that made up the subtle harmonics of being. They had actually begun to feel the beautiful simplicity of the complexity that held the very fabric of existence together. They had begun to unlock the very secrets of what was. Their progress in this bold intellectual adventure served only to bring them even closer together, a closeness that was as almost unbearable as it was delicious.
It was as they came closer to grasping and quantifying the greatest mysteries of ‘all that is’ that the unbearableness grew. It grew not as dissatisfaction, but as a realisation they had experienced their love in every way possible. So strong was their love that they sought further infinite ways of expressing it.
Unsurprisingly, they discovered the answers to their questions simultaneously. In a unique moment of revelation, they grasped the solution to their investigations of existence and their unrequited desire to find a further unique tableau in which to experience the infinite diversity of their love. They came together as one and called out a request.
And…a moment later…there was light.
- The End -
THE BUTTON
Warrior one, warrior two, reverse warrior, down into plank, upward dog, downwards facing dog. The man ran through the regime in his mind as he put himself through the yoga session in his cramped cabin. At least he had a cabin and he was grateful for that. The majority of his one hundred and fifty crew did not. Despite the size of the fleet’s newest nuclear submarine, some things remained forever the bane of the professional submariner, a lack of space being one of them.
He caught sight of himself in the mirror. A bead of sweat hung comically from the end of his nose as he concentrated on a particularly challenging pose. He didn’t look stressed. He was trying not to be stressed. A lot of people were counting on him not to be stressed. He shut out the thoughts and delved further into his practice.
As the captain continued his session, the USS Louisiana slipped silently though the deep waters of the South China Sea. Its sleek shape made short work of the strong undercurrents and eddies, as the powerful reactor churned out vast kilojoules of energy to the single massive propeller at its rear.
She was the newest (and maybe the last) of the great leviathans of the deep. One point five billion dollars of high tech hardware squeezed into a mere five hundred and fifty foot length. Nineteen thousand tons of cold steel, bristling with revolutionary electronics and a weapons package that was almost too terrible to contemplate, she was the ultimate deterrent. Virtually undetectable, her job was to prowl the seas in the knowledge that her very existence ensured those with designs against U.S. interests would think twice. She was, in navel parlance, a Boomer, laden with Trident missiles tipped with nuclear warheads, the powers of which were unthinkable. She was the ultimate peacekeeper.
Not everyone was impressed. Certain people in Mainland China thought she was a bluff. The Chinese were a nation of gamblers. Unlike the more pragmatic Russians during the cold war, the Chinese tended to call bluffs. After all, they reasoned, would the United States really go to war over Taiwan?
Some hawks in the U.S. military believed the Chinese were arrogant enough to call the bluff. Some could not believe that they would be stupid enough to do so. The Chinese reasoned the time had never been better to re take the island. With the U.S. public weary with the debacle that was Iraq and U.S. forces stretched ever more thinly through the Middle East and Afghanistan, their gambler’s ethic suggested that maybe their moment had arrived. In Washington, supposedly wise minds argued both ways.
None of the politics entered the captain’s mind as he arrived at the con for the start of his watch. He had to concentrate totally on the operations of the sh
ip and it’s state of readiness for whatever was to come. Some five hundred feet above him and many miles to the south, the aircraft carrier USS Ronald Regan pounded through the waves leading the mammoth carrier group to its prearranged station. Jets screamed through the bitterly cold air like angry banshees, maintaining their protective envelope over the flotilla. At the edge of space, shadowy satellites turned on their axes and focused on the area as they were retasked from darkened rooms at CIA headquarters in Langley.
He nodded at his stone-faced exec as he took his post. His second in command gave him a look that said, ‘All quiet.’ He sat in the command chair and reached over for the mug of steaming coffee placed there prior to his arrival. As he lifted it to his lips the intercom crackled into life.
“Con, radio, we are receiving Flash Traffic. Emergency Action Message. Recommend Alert One, Recommend Alert One!”
The Captain, not quite believing what he had just heard, studiously replaced his untouched coffee and picked up the microphone next to him. “Con, aye. Alert One. Alert One. Set Action Stations. Alert One. Alert One.”
He glanced at the exec again. His expression betrayed nothing. Neither did the captain’s. Eighteen seconds later, the ship’s weapons officer arrived breathlessly at the con with a flimsy sheet of paper. He caught his breath briefly and spoke, his voice only barely controlled.
“Captain, we have received a properly formatted Emergency Action Message from COMCINCPAC authorizing Strategic Missile Launch. Request permission to authenticate.”
The captain nodded. His exec unlocked a panel next to him and took out a card encased in perspex. He broke it in two, removed the document inside, and checked the reference number against that on the paper brought to the bridge by the weapons officer. He looked at the Captain.
“Message is authentic. I concur, the Message is authentic.”
The commander slowly reached for the microphone again. Pausing for a brief moment to ensure that he’d really heard what he’d heard, he spoke.
“This is the captain. Set condition one SQ for strategic missile launch. Spin up missiles six through ten and fifteen through nineteen. The release of nuclear weapons has been authorized. This is not a drill. Chief of the boat, all stop. Make your depth two hundred feet.”
“All stop, depth two hundred feet, aye sir,” responded the Chief.
The captain’s mind raced. The carrier group wasn’t yet in place and the last report he’d received said that the Chinese fleet was only just making preparations to sail. That was just hours ago. They couldn’t have even put to sea yet. There couldn’t have even been a confrontation, unless the Chinese had initiated a pre-emptive missile strike against the Taiwan. That was unlikely. They certainly wouldn’t have made a nuclear strike. Why destroy what they coveted so much? And yet his orders were for a nuclear strike against the Chinese mainland. His exec interrupted his thought process. “Target package sir,” he said, thrusting a bound book into his hand marked ‘Top Secret’. The captain scanned it briefly. The submarine pens at Jianggezhuang. The nuclear testing faculty at Mianyang, the naval base at Qingdao and, Jesus, Beijing. When he let his birds fly it was full blown nuclear war.
The intercom cracked into life again. “Con, missile control. Fuelling commenced. Ready to launch in eleven minutes by my mark.” Picking up the microphone the captain replied slowly with a calmness he didn’t feel. “Very well, keep me informed. Eleven minutes. Eleven minutes before he launched Armageddon. Whatever the Chinese had done, his launch would trigger an all out nuclear exchange. Either they had done something unthinkable, like pre-emptively nuking Washington, which made no sense whatsoever, or the hawks in the war room had a take he wasn’t privy to. Not that it was his job to be in the picture totally, especially when time was in short supply. His job and course of action was well defined. He’d trained for it almost all of his life. Once given the authenticated command he was to fire his missiles, period. He had eleven minutes to ponder on it.
He was a patriot and a soldier. He was also highly intelligent. With only a moment’s hesitation he then broke the first rule of his training and launch protocol. He glanced up at his exec, who was watching him intently. He nodded him over and under the pretence of studying the target package, he spoke quietly so no one else could hear in the noise of the con. “Speak totally freely number one. Speak off the record. Quietly.” His exec looked around briefly and whispered. “This can’t be right. Unless the Chinese have nuked the U.S. this just doesn’t make sense.”
“Agreed,” replied the Captain. “This is my call number one. I’m going to try and get a confirmation. That on its own will end my career. Are you going to make this easy or hard for me?”
The exec hesitated for a moment. “You’re the captain. To fire those missiles, both you and I have to concur. That’s the rule. Unless we insert our launch keys simultaneously, the birds won’t fire. If you say we fire, then I trust your judgment. I work for you. I concur that the message is genuine. I concur that we fire if you say so. If you want to check and I agree then my career is over too. So be it. My career is over. It’s too important.”
“Missiles fully fuelled in ten minutes.” The weapons officers’ metallic voice echoed around the con.
The captain looked up. “Chief of the boat, launch the communications buoy.”
“Communications buoy, aye, sir.”
The exec looked at the captain, “If we don’t get confirmation…”
“I know,” said the captain, “This is what we’re here for.”
“Communication buoy on station, Sir.”
The captain picked up the microphone, “Sparks, get COMCINCPAC on the horn.”
“Pardon Sir, please repeat,” was the astonished reply.
“Just do it,” snapped the Captain.
“Missiles fully fuelled in nine minutes.”
“Con, radio. Can’t raise COMCINCPAC. Just static out there.”
The captain squeezed the microphone ever harder. “Try the fleet, there’s half a million tons of U.S. Naval hardware up there.” He glanced at his exec. “They’ve got to know something.” As he spoke, he was aware he was way out of his jurisdiction. His exec moved closer.
“Not being able to raise COMCINCPAC doesn’t mean it’s been destroyed. The only way to get a clear signal is to break surface. If we do that and the shit really has hit the fan, we’d be compromising our position. We’d be a sitting duck. They’d be waiting for us to pop up.”
“Con, radio. Can’t raise the fleet.”
“Missiles fully fuelled in eight minutes.”
The blatant breaks in clearly defined nuclear launch protocol were causing odd looks from the con crew. The captain was aware of the nervous glances from sweaty, frightened young men.
“Sonar, range to fleet?” He needed to confirm the fleet was still in existence.
“Con, sonar. Fleet out of range, sir. Too far away for a clear sonar contact. I can read metal, and lots of it, but they’re too distant to make out single vessels.”
“Jesus,” spat the exec. “It could just be wreckage he’s reading or the fleet could still be there.”
“Missiles fully fuelled in seven minutes.”
The captain’s mind raced. “Number one, how soon could we clarify the condition of the fleet if we chase them at flank speed?”
The Exec shook his head slowly. “Twenty eight minutes sir. There’s not enough time.”
“Number one, join me in the corridor please,” he said, loudly enough for the con crew to hear. He ignored their astonished glances and strode off the bridge, closely followed by his exec.
“Bob. Our careers are fucked anyway but I’m being asked to destroy the planet with zero information. If the brass has called this wrong and we fire, then the Chinese will retaliate with everything they’ve got. If even half of their missiles get through our defences, then every major city in the U.S. will be wiped out. Once the Chinese missiles are in the air then our defence systems will pick them up and order a f
ull ballistic retaliation and do the same to China. Half the world will be uninhabitable for centuries.”
“You’re assuming,” replied the exec, “that the Chinese haven’t made a pre emptive strike. If they have then we’re part of that retaliation and Chinese missiles are already on their way to the States as we speak.”
“But it doesn’t make sense,” argued the captain, “Why would they do that? They know there’s no way to win. And they’re out to get Taiwan. Attacking the mainland U.S. wouldn’t help and nuking Taiwan wouldn’t help. It’s like using a sledgehammer to crack a nut, plus the fact that you couldn’t even eat the nut when you’d cracked it.”
“Missiles fully fuelled in six minutes.”
“Nonetheless, Captain. This is what we’re here for. This is what we do. This is our purpose.”
“No, dammit,” hissed the captain, “What we’re here for is to actually prevent what we’re about to do. We’re a deterrent. We’re too awful to contemplate.”
“Evidently not,” replied the exec. “Our bluff has been called. Whatever’s happened up there, our bluff has most definitely been called.”
“Something’s missing, or we’re missing something.” The captain ran his hand through his hair. “We’re not even supposed to be having this conversation and yet we are. We’re having it because it feels wrong. Something’s wrong,”
“Have you considered,” his number one offered, “that this could never feel right? It would always feel wrong.”
There was a long pause while the two men fought with their intellects, trying to rationalise the situation.
“Missiles fully fuelled in five minutes.”
The captain straightened up, “I’m not going to push that button until I know it’s right. We’re going to make for the surface so we can get a clear signal.”
9781910981729 Page 15
