Nirvana Effect

by Craig Gehring

  Her smile faltered. He knows! In that moment she felt exposed, and yet safe. She nodded unconsciously. “Thank you, James.”

  “Thank you,” he said. He tilted his hat. With his accent, it was almost ridiculous. She didn’t laugh, though. It was actually quite attractive. He looked at her meaningfully. “Goodbye, Callista,” said James. He turned to leave.

  “Goodbye, James.” She leaned against the door frame as he drove off.

  Oh, Edward.

  18

  Lila had requested an audience with him three times. Manassa had never granted it.

  When he walked into his quarters she was on his bed.

  She studied his face to gauge his reaction. He smiled.

  “I’m not going to even ask you how you got in here,” he said.

  “Your secret exit is also a secret entrance. You should guard it.”

  “Then it wouldn’t be a secret,” he said. He could not resist talking to her. Or looking at her. She wore a loincloth but she may as well have been completely naked on his bed.

  “What is this I am laying on?” she asked.

  “The English call it a ‘mattress’. It’s a bed.”

  She giggled. “You did it. You’re a god, and you sleep on a ‘mittress’.”

  Manassa stifled a laugh at the mispronunciation. I wish.

  “You’ll need to leave,” he said. “You’re married.”

  “I don’t want to be married anymore.”

  “That’s too bad,” said Manassa. He walked to his desk.

  “Can’t you do something?” she asked.

  “It’s the laws of the tribe.”

  “But they say you can do anything. You’ve done miracles. You appear out of the air…”

  Manassa started working at his desk.

  “Mahanta…I miss you, Mahanta. I’m sorry I married. He’s so old and gross. My family needed it. I’m sorry.” She was crying. “I miss you. Please, help me. You don’t have to marry me. I could just be your…”

  “’Mattress’?” he asked without looking at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  He chuckled. He turned around in his chair. She was standing up pleading beside his bed.

  He missed her, too. And the idea of her in bed with her husband made his blood boil.

  “I swore I’d marry you,” said Manassa. “And you married another. This was an unforgivable sin.” She held her breath. “But that was against Mahanta. Mahanta is no more. I am Manassa, and no Onge can sin unforgivably against me.”

  She sighed.

  “I will have you,” he said. “But in order for me to have you, you must follow what I say exactly. Understand?”

  “I understand,” she said.

  19

  “It’s ham and rice in banana leaf,” explained Nockwe as he served Edward his wrap. It felt warm in Edward’s hands, but not too warm.

  Bri’ley’na and the three children sat on the floor with them. They all ate quietly, Bri’ley’na occasionally chirping to one of the children to stay seated or to go fetch some seasoning.

  Nockwe coughed repeatedly. The coughs rocked his whole body. Still, he sounded better. Once he recovered from the fit, he smiled wearily at Edward.

  “Is there anything Western medicine can do for me, Edward Styles?” asked Nockwe.

  “We could remove your lungs,” said Edward.

  Nockwe frowned at him. Edward laughed.

  “A joke,” said Edward.

  Nockwe’s eyebrows went through contortions. He still looked quite serious; Edward hoped he hadn’t affronted the chieftain. Then Nockwe burst into laughter. Bri’ley’na asked Nockwe something very rapidly in Onge. Nockwe responded just as quickly. She started laughing, too.

  “What?” asked Edward.

  “You have a very strange sense of humor, white man,” said Bri’ley’na. She laughed more. She told the children to go play outside the hut.

  “Actually,” said Edward, “there is very little we could do for a cough. We have cough drops. It can keep your throat from being so sore.”

  “How do I get this ‘cough drops‘?” asked Nockwe.

  “Go to a corner store in Lisbaad.”

  “I might just do that,” said Nockwe. “Even though it breaks every code of my tribe.”

  “Better to break that little code and live, I say,” said Edward.

  “Now you sound like Manassa,” said Nockwe.

  Bri’ley’na quietly took her leave from the two men.

  “What’s that?” asked Edward.

  “Nothing,” said Nockwe, quickly. Still, Edward leaned for an answer, so Nockwe said, dismissively, “Manassa is the bringer of change.”

  “He is? He breaks your codes?” asked Edward. His interest was piqued.

  Nockwe shrugged. He coughed again. “He is interpreter of the code. The prophecies say that he ‘shall bring all the words of our traditions to new meaning, to new light.’”

  “What does he say about medicine?”

  “Our law says that no potions of foreigners be allowed in our bodies.”

  “Mmhmm?” Edward prompted.

  “Manassa says that all the Earth belongs to the Onge - that now that Manassa has come, there is no foreigner.”

  “That’s what Manassa says?” asked Edward. He couldn’t hide his reaction. His pulse was racing, his breath evacuated into the jungle night.

  Carefully, Nockwe answered, “That’s what Manassa says in his sermons.” He spoke more guardedly. Edward took his time to form the right question, something that would let Nockwe feel comfortable once more. Edward realized he needed to know a lot more than he knew.

  Nockwe spoke before the words came to Edward. His brow furrowed and he talked slowly, with the same rhythm he usually reserved for crowds. “Edward, have you ever attended one of the sermons of Manassa?” asked Nockwe.

  “No,” said Edward.

  Nockwe looked into the candlelight. He had another question, and Edward just waited for it. Finally, Nockwe asked, “White man, what do you view as your role here?”

  “I…” Edward started. “I am the servant of Manassa. I am here to perform accomplish his will,” lied Edward.

  Nockwe scowled. He leaned very close to Edward, and whispered in his ear. “That is all well, since the eyes and ears of Manassa are everywhere. But tell me how you truly see your role. I owe you my life; I will not betray you.”

  Edward nodded. He thought of Tomy. It was likely that he was crouching outside, just as Dook had spied on Tien’s conversation with the chieftain.

  Should I talk to him? Edward trusted Nockwe, far more than he trusted anyone else in the tribe. Why shouldn’t he? Edward whispered back, “I am researching…”

  “Lleychta?” asked Nockwe.

  “Yes.”

  Nockwe drew in a breath and considered once more the candle. He seemed to be meditating. Edward’s eyes drifted to the walls of the hut. They were adorned from top to bottom with skins and various artifacts inherited from the Onge chieftains of ages past. Edward did not really see them. He was just letting Nockwe think.

  Finally, the chieftain whispered in the formal Onge tongue, “White man, I will tell you the story of Manassa, the same way it is told our children, and was told to me, and was told to my ancestors for hundreds of years. I do this for you. You say I saved your life, and you were only paying a debt, but my debt is greater than yours, now. If I did not owe such a debt, I would not help you. I would not tell you the story, for doing so is truly a disservice to my tribe, and a disservice to Manassa, who empowers our tribe. Still, I will tell you.”

  Edward rocked back and waited for Nockwe to begin.

  The chieftain spoke smoothly. It was a familiar tale to Nockwe, told in all its flowery phrases.

  “We are a people of many, many gods, but three are higher than all. The first god is the creator, maker of heaven and Earth. He became the Earth and the stars that we might have life. He only lives through us, through the beasts of the jungle, through the
trees and streams, even through the mud. He sacrificed his life as a seed for all of our world.”

  Edward was already, familiar with the Onge pantheon, but listened carefully.

  “The second god is the all-seeing, all-knowing god of now. He is the Watcher. He is the Taker. He is the guardian of the Onge. He keeps us on the island, to keep us strong, to keep by our codes, to wait for the sign.

  “The third god is just born. He is the immortal child. When the first god sowed this Earth with life, he planted a seed of immortality, that one day he might be reborn as himself. And the second god watched over the seed, guarding it until the proper day had passed. And when it passed, the third god was born, the child eternal, Manassa.

  “Manassa leads us, his chosen people, to reclaim the Earth he seeded with his life. For just as the greatest of Onge must be the chieftain, so must the greatest people of Earth be the chieftain of Earth.”

  Surely Mahanta did not buy into this claptrap. Edward nodded.

  “Has my god Manassa told you of this?” asked Nockwe.

  Edward said, “Yes,” for the benefit of any eavesdroppers, but shook his head decidedly, “No.”

  Nockwe sighed. He leaned in close to Edward once more and whispered. “Mahanta became Manassa because of the signs. He fulfilled the prophecy. But there are more prophecies. Ruling the white man is one of them, including ruling you. That pretense has already been achieved. But there are many more. And if Manassa does not fulfill the prophecies, he is not Manassa. He is not the child immortal.”

  “Then what is he?” whispered Edward.

  “Dead,” said Nockwe. He then leaned back. He watched Edward meaningfully as he finished his story, “Like a Chinese rocket, Manassa shoots us to our fortune, our future.” He slowly enunciated his last sentences. “Like an Onge arrow, our path is set and unwavering. Once fired, no man can divert it, not even he who let it loose.”

  Nockwe rose. Edward stood with him. Nockwe led him to the exit of the hut by his arm. The chieftain whispered in parting, “There is a saying with my people. It goes: the foolish man, facing the panther, dives into its waiting mouth. Goodbye, Edward.”

  20

  For the first time, Edward turned his attention to the future while under trance. Half his trance he spent in the future. The other half, he spent in Mahanta’s private quarters, behind the throne in the temple.

  The future was a haze of probabilities. It arced along many channels. He found that it was already calculated to some degree. He did not have the think about it so much as view it. It had already been subconsciously, furiously computed.

  The future hinged on the single question: “Who to trust?” From there, it branched out to many more questions, chief among them: “What did Nockwe mean, exactly?”, “What does Mahanta really intend?”, and “What the hell am I doing?”

  If Nockwe was being entirely truthful, then Mahanta’s course was set. He was not “Mahanta, the scientist.” He was “Manassa, the Onge god,” manipulating Edward in order that he might fulfill prophecies and aggrandize himself.

  Or else Nockwe sought to undermine Mahanta, and take power for himself. It would not be the first time an Onge chieftain used subterfuge to maintain control. To lose power was death for him and possibly his family as well. It was an unreasonable assumption to think that Nockwe was truly on Manassa’s side.

  It was an unreasonable assumption to think that Nockwe was truly on Edward’s side. Honor or no, he was an Onge first and foremost.

  He would not have told Edward what he did if it did not benefit himself or the tribe.

  The whole honor bit was just to sell it to Edward.

  Edward had the feeling of a man playing chess who suddenly makes the unhappy discovery that he’s a pawn, sitting on a giant chess board absorbed in the little chess board on his lap.

  What was Nockwe trying to do?

  Instead of thinking about it, Edward just viewed all of the possibilities that led from the facts. The facts were that Mahanta hadn’t told Nockwe what Edward was up to. The facts were that Mahanta and Nockwe were involved in a game that Edward did not yet understand. The facts were that everyone was playing a game except him. He was just a pawn.

  From where he sat, each of the possibilities were just as plausible. He lacked data. He needed data before he lost the trance.

  Again, he had to steal the initiative, just like in his duel with Dook. The time had come to play the only card he had.

  Edward stood up from his bed of straw. He walked briskly behind the throne to Mahanta’s personal chambers. He was not surprised to see a candle still burning and Mahanta hunched over his desk.

  Mahanta turned abruptly, but his posture remained natural and his face relaxed. Still, Edward noticed the nigh-imperceptible clenching of Mahanta’s back muscles in fright, the minute surprise that told Edward he had Mahanta off balance. Mahanta hadn’t been expecting Edward to make a move so suddenly, but had been expecting a move.

  Edward knew with a trance certainty that Tomy had indeed spied, and perhaps had done better than Nockwe and Edward suspected he could have.

  “Edward,” said Mahanta. “Can’t sleep?” Mahanta was watching Edward’s eyes. He was looking for the trance, and found it there.

  “No, I’m very awake, Mahanta,” said Edward with a casual smile.

  “Can I help you?” asked Mahanta.

  “I wanted to tell you that I’ll be leaving for Lisbaad immediately,” said Edward.

  Mahanta was shocked. Edward could never have known he was shocked outside of trance. Mahanta’s eyebrows quivered. His pupils dilated a fraction of an inch, but in perfect reaction to the end of Edward’s sentence as it struck home. It took time for Mahanta to respond. Edward waited, not elucidating further.

  “But why?” asked Mahanta carefully.

  “I have business to attend to,” said Edward.

  “I see.” Edward could see Mahanta thinking. He could almost articulate the thoughts whirring behind Mahanta’s eyes. “I trust you don’t believe in Onge mythology,” said Mahanta.

  “As much as you do,” said Edward quickly.

  “I trust you don’t use Onge mythology to guide your life’s decisions.”

  “I’ve got my own mythology for that,” retorted Edward. He did spy, and openly admits it.

  “What brings you to Lisbaad, then?” asked Mahanta.

  “My researches, of course,” said Edward. “What else could bring me to Lisbaad?”

  Mahanta was silent.

  “I need equipment to continue my researches, and the advice of a doctor,” continued Edward.

  “Tomy can get you what you need,” said Mahanta.

  “Tomy can do nothing of the sort. And I am sure he is already indisposed,” Edward said. Mahanta’s eyes froze. He sought to make them divulge nothing. But even in their immobility they spoke volumes to Edward while in trance. “What is more,” Edward continued, “if a letter isn’t received by the Lisbaad church within three days with my signature and code, there will be a team of Jesuits here searching for me. While I was injured, I neglected to send my usual note through the traders.”

  Mahanta’s voice took an odd, cold tone that was hard to read. He knows I’m peering into his soul right now. “That would be unfortunate,” said Mahanta.

  “You see, it’s a peculiar thing, but I am very sure that such a team would be able to divine what is happening here, either by God’s direct revelation, or various other means, whether I’m here or not. It would be quite unfortunate if you or your people learned firsthand why the Jesuits’ leader is called a General or why we’re known as Soldiers of Christ.”

  Mahanta got the point.

  “It would be quite unfortunate for me, too,” said Edward. “I have many hopes. Good night, Mahanta. Do not do something foolish just because I have some leverage. You could hardly expect that I wouldn’t figure something out. I’m just following your advice to the letter. I will return in ten days, hopefully with some good news. I will not share our
secret unless you make me. Even now, if I were to die suddenly, it is arranged that that secret be shared with a group that shouldn’t have it. That would be unfortunate for me, unfortunate for you, and unfortunate for humanity.”

  Mahanta just watched him and said nothing. Edward moved towards the exit. He saw Mahanta relax almost imperceptibly out of the corner of his eye. It was the exact moment Edward had been waiting for. Edward turned and said, “I do not fault your desire to have the Onge rule the Earth.”

  Edward watched Mahanta’s eyes. Mahanta answered, “I have no such desire.”

  Mahanta spoke truth. Edward was convinced of it. There was no way Mahanta could lie in front of him. Not one minute reaction could slip by Edward’s awareness. Mahanta was answering with total honesty.

  Which only led Edward to more questions. But there was something more important than the questions and the answers, and that was precious initiative. It was his, for a fleeting moment, and he would not lose it. Clueless, with no idea who to trust, and no sure way out of the maze, his only defense was to be unpredictable.

  He left for Lisbaad by foot in the dead of night.

  21

  Never tell a lie to a Seer. It was an axiom Mahanta had developed in his philosophical study of the drug. It had served him well tonight.

  The white Seer sees too much. He sees further than me in some things. He is blind in other areas. He is a fool and brilliant all at once.

  So am I, I suppose.

  Manassa wrote in his journal:

  The Seer sees what he sees. He believes what he sees is all, yet he sees little. And knowing this, still he so believes.

  “So it is written.” He chuckled. Such a maxim gave him an advantage over another Seer, unless that other Seer had also so calculated.

  As a matter of fact, any random arbitrary he threw into his calculations would give him some advantage over another Seer, whether it was wise or not. It could be “Only attack on Tuesdays,” and he could throw off the other’s calculations.