The Days of Peleg

by Jon Saboe

  Peleg was impressed, but said nothing.

  “There are also many violent animals, on both sea and land, which suspend their carnivorous instincts to allow small animals—which would normally be eaten—to enter into their mouths to clean their teeth. Small animals which would usually be consumed without thought are allowed safe access during these times, and collect food instead of becoming food.”

  Shem smiled—for the first time that night, and continued.

  “But my favorite example is the termite. You are aware that they consume wood?”

  “Yes,” Peleg nodded, wondering where all of this was going.

  “What you may not know, is that termites are unable to digest wood,” he said with a gleam in his eye. “They just chew it up, and then swallow it.”

  Shem paused, as he always did, refusing to speak until Peleg responded.

  “That is impossible,” Peleg finally declared, in a tone that demanded an explanation.

  Shem laughed, but it was not his usual, annoying bellow.

  “There is another, much smaller organism that lives inside of the termite,” he said. “This creature does digest wood, and breaks it down for the termites who are then able to glean its nourishment. It is difficult to say which creature works for the other. From the organism’s perspective, a termite is a creature that collects food for it to enjoy.”

  Shem spread his arms, stretching at the same time.

  “Obviously,” he continued, “such arrangements could never develop over time. One of the parties would die out while waiting for the other’s cooperation. They must be set into motion simultaneously; the same as any other system.”

  Shem paused, and Peleg waited to see when or if he would connect his disparate thoughts. Eventually, Shem spoke again.

  “You have been taught by this Citadel that you are comprised of two components: Body and Mind.”

  Peleg nodded.

  “I believe we have also demonstrated that your volitional abilities go far beyond mere mechanistic, causal phenomena.”

  Peleg nodded again, but somewhat reluctantly.

  “Human beings are designed to be symbiotic also,” Shem announced, finally making his point. “Our volitional abilities have a serious drawback. When faced with the unknown, we become so aware of the unlimited possibilities and infinite futures that we terrorize ourselves, imagining the worst possible outcomes for every situation.”

  Once again Peleg nodded, but this time he actually understood what Shem was saying.

  “Just as the termite can not digest the wood that enters its system, so humans cannot digest the dilemmas and uncertainties which come their way. It is the price we pay for having free will. However, your volition was not designed to function on its own—independent of assistance. There is a third component that must be added to the list of Body and Mind: it is Spirit.”

  Peleg’s patience came to an abrupt end and he jerked back in anger as if he had been struck. This was all he needed: more mythical nonsense like the degeneration he had observed in the streets ever since returning home.

  Shem laughed again. This time it was the annoying one.

  “Don’t be offended by a word,” he said as he caught his breath. “I’m not talking about ghosts or apparitions. I simply have no better word to describe something that is, in reality, a connection point or nexus between the physical world we live in, and the realm occupied by the Creator. Perhaps you have a better word.”

  Peleg shook his head, resigned to hear the rest of what Shem had to say, but as always, he was reticent when Shem insisted upon invoking his Creator.

  “You were not designed to live in fear,” Shem said, his voice suddenly soothing. “You were not designed to be the victim of a chaotic, unguided Volition. Your Spirit is a region within your Volition where the Creator himself is meant to reside, guiding your decisions, giving you peace, and assuring you that you are cared for. The future manifestation of the Zeh-ra will be when the Creator comes in the flesh, but the immediate manifestation occurs when you allow the Creator to plant his Seed within your Spirit where His Mind and Wisdom can grow and feed your Volition—as it was meant to be.”

  He paused for several moments, allowing his words to sink in.

  “I said that ‘love’ was the opposite of fear,” Shem continued eventually. “By allowing the all-knowing Creator to reside in your Spirit, you can function in the manner in which you were designed—the way the Creator originally intended. When the first couple fell, their Spirit died—and all of humanity since that time has been born with a Volition that ignores the Creator and a Spirit which no longer functions.”

  Peleg closed his eyes, not wanting to be completely taken in by this new thought, while Shem continued.

  “When people are confronted by the unknown, their Volition creates an insurmountable mountain of anxieties and possibilities; so most simply ignore the problems and immerse themselves in activities which take their minds off of their apprehensions. They become obsessed with other ventures, or numb their agony with revelry, drugs, or other diversions.”

  A contentious thought suddenly occurred to Peleg, and he opened his eyes.

  “Or they hide fearfully in caves for decades, wondering what to do,” Peleg said, perversely delighted at this unexpected opportunity to show that Shem didn’t appear to live up to the claims he was making.

  However, Shem stopped for a moment and then smiled sadly, looking down at the floor.

  “Yes,” he said slowly with a hurt tone in his voice. “We are constantly growing—learning how to listen and trust the Creator’s voice within us. Since the Zeh-ra never forces or controls, we can still, sadly, choose to ignore him.”

  Peleg was suddenly sorry he had said anything. But after a few moments, Shem abruptly looked up and smiled broadly, lifting his arms in the air.

  “But the good news is that we are together here, now!” he proclaimed joyfully.

  Peleg looked around the dark classroom/cell with disbelief, but then looked into Shem’s excited, wild eyes. It was the same old manic Shem, but somehow, this time, it comforted him.

  Shem’s smile faded, and he sank back down on the floor. Suddenly he closed his eyes and seemed to shut out the rest of the world, becoming motionless just like he had the first time they had met. Peleg had never asked Shem about it, but he now realized after this last lecture that Shem was probably communing with his “Spirit” and the Creator within. Whether it was imaginary or not, it was certain that Shem believed it.

  Peleg waited for several minutes, first watching Shem, and then looking around the room. A hue of ambient orange light was now coming from the slot overhead—the sky’s reflection of the morning sun, which was rising on the opposite side of the Citadel. He looked back just in time to see Shem’s eyes snap open.

  “All is well,” he said, smiling at Peleg.

  Peleg returned to sit next to Shem, amazed at this sudden assurance.

  “How can someone know when he is truly communicating with the Creator, or simply talking to himself?” asked Peleg, insinuating his skepticism about Shem’s meditation.

  “Only when you have received the Zeh-ra into your Volition can you discern how empty and void you were before He entered. One must also be cautious since the Nephilim will also attempt to enter your Spirit and control you. However, since it wasn’t designed for them, their forceful nature and your accompanying physical discomfort expose them quickly.”

  Peleg’s eyes were opened wide in a combination of disbelief and fear.

  Shem laughed quietly and smiled.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Once the Zeh-ra is within, nothing else can enter. Also, you will know it is the Creator’s voice when he tells you things you don’t want to hear.”

  Peleg shook his head, wondering if Shem was being serious or facetious.

  Shem raised a hand as if continuing a major point.

  “Having an omniscient, omni-present Creator within your being is not enough to drive away fear,
” he said, as if clarifying himself. “It is only after you get to know the Creator—his mind and personality—that you realize his incredible love for his creation. It is the same as the limited love you would have for something you created. Only when you learn to trust the Creator’s love for you will you find your fears beginning to vanish. Since we trust and rely on the all-knowing one who is guiding us, we have no need for worry or anxiety.”

  Peleg mulled all of this over in his mind, wondering how he could verify such concepts. Shem had also suddenly switched to the first person plural, apparently to include Bernifal and all those who believed as he did, which strangely made his ideas more inviting. After a few minutes of silence, he realized he still had to ask the one obvious question—just for informational purposes.

  “How can I acquire this Creator within my volition?”

  “You must be accepted, first,” said Shem with a shake of his head. “Perfection cannot associate with imperfection.”

  Peleg recoiled as if had been punched in the chest. He thought of his own imperfection and wondered angrily how Shem could spend so much time and effort presenting his proposition, and then suddenly announce that it was unattainable. But Shem anticipated his discomfort and continued.

  “That is where the Zeh-ra does his work,” he said quietly. “The coming Seed will be your human advocate, representing you to the Creator. His perfection will supersede your imperfection, allowing the Creator to commune with you. Since His future coming is a certainty, you can rely upon it as assuredly as if it has already happened.”

  Peleg suddenly felt isolated as Shem switched his language, again, to the second person singular, making his explanation uncomfortably personal. Peleg’s next question was sincere.

  “How would I request this exchange?”

  Shem’s smile was instant and almost giddy.

  “One of the benefits of an all-knowing Creator,” he said, “is that He knows your thoughts from afar. It is a simple matter of changing your allegiance to Him, acknowledging His preeminence as Creator, and believing that the Zeh-ra will one day come and restore all that the fall has taken from us—removing the curse. In so doing, you admit your imperfections before Him and accept his supremacy.”

  His smile vanished and he looked directly into Peleg’s eyes.

  “It is a simple decision,” he said. “You simply ask Him in. Accept the coming Seed into your Volition and He will restore your Spirit. All He needs is your invitation; your permission.”

  It sounded somewhat simplistic to Peleg—and he still was not convinced that he had a Spirit that needed restoration. His thoughts were noisily interrupted by Bernifal, who had awakened instantly for some unknown reason and jumped up in the middle of the floor—instantly alert. Shem rose to his feet and sniffed just before Peleg heard footsteps approaching, followed by the clanking of metal rods and the slow scraping of their stone door being pushed inward.

  Flaming torches blinded them as the eight guards who were carrying them entered the classroom. Two of them headed straight for Peleg and grabbed him by the shoulders, while the rest extended their swords towards Shem and Bernifal, forcing them against the far wall. Peleg’s head was restrained by his guards and he could not turn to see his companions, but he was sure that Shem had, once again, instructed Bernifal not to struggle.

  An additional guard, with a somewhat more colorful robe, entered the room—obviously an officer. He walked past Peleg and his two restrainers, and addressed Shem and Bernifal without introduction.

  “You two are free to leave,” he announced loudly. “We have no use for you here. You shall be escorted from the Citadel to the city gates where you will permanently depart the city of Ur. By order of the Queen and her son, you are hereby notified that you two are banished, and that any return to Ur will result in your immediate execution.”

  The officer nodded slightly, and the armed guards descended on Shem and Bernifal, holding their arms in the same manner as before, but this time, there were no leather thongs tying their elbows together.

  Peleg listened as Shem hastily explained the situation to Bernifal, all the while bewildered by the guard’s statement.

  Ur had no queen—or any royalty. Ur-Nammu had established an elected council which met the mundane needs of the city. Appointed arbiters handled disputes, while the rest of the citizenry was free to practice their business, research, art, or other pursuits.

  The guards began ushering Shem and Bernifal through the open door.

  “The Creator has set us free!” Shem shouted gleefully to Peleg as they passed by him. He turned and was able to catch Peleg’s eye as he entered the hallway. Peleg was stunned to see the huge smile that covered Shem’s face, and was even more horrified when Shem winked at him!

  “He has promised that we shall meet again,” Shem called out as he and Bernifal were taken down the corridor. “It will be very soon! He promises!”

  The events had happened so rapidly that Peleg was unable to respond. He heard two more “He promises!” as the echoes of Shem’s voice faded in the distance, and soon he was alone with his two guards and the officer who had remained behind, filled with an unimaginable flood of swirling emotions:

  Anger that Shem had appeared unconcerned about Peleg remaining in this prison. Fear at being left alone. Sadness that Shem, whom he would miss, was gone. Dismay over the threats of execution. Regret that he had been unable to respond.

  Concern that he no longer had his pre-Calamitite trophy to present to Inanna.

  Two additional conflicting reactions came to him as he reflected upon this turn of events: Empathy and gladness for Shem and Bernifal at their escape; and anger towards this Creator (whose existence he had not yet decided upon) who had somehow seen fit to arrange their freedom and not his.

  There was no more time for further introspection, however, as his guards, led by the officer, propelled him by his arms and steered him into the hallway and through the corridors of the Citadel. Neither the officer nor the guards said anything, and they ignored all questions and protests from Peleg. Soon he realized he was being ushered in the direction of the Hall of Spheres—the same hall where Reu-Nathor had announced the Great Discovery.

  The guards pushed through the heavy stone side doors, and Peleg tried to look past the glare of the torches surrounding him. The assembly room was dark, but several small oil lamps were arranged along the rear of the stage, backlighting two very large carved chairs which were placed where the High Minister’s marble lectern used to be.

  The guards gave him a final shove, and then exited behind him, leaving him alone in the large hall. As their torches left, he realized that the lamps along the sides of the ceiling were lit, but they were just turned down much more dimly than he had ever seen before. Almost imperceptibly, the outlines of the constellations sparkled with dimly refracted light from their recesses in the wall.

  He stood motionless for a moment, but he eventually moved slowly toward the front of the hall. He was free to walk around the hall, but was certain that he would be unable to leave through the door he had just entered. He looked up and saw the familiar outer worlds suspended as round black silhouettes from the ceiling (unmoving at the moment), and moved closer to the stage, peering at the chairs, which now, he thought, more closely resembled thrones. A large assortment of inlaid jewels adorned their arms, and another collection of gems crowned the chairs’ tall backs, creating a sparkling outline to each chair’s shadow—and casting bluish flickers against the stone walls as the radiance from the Iku-fish lamp flames refracted through the precious stones.

  “Finally, we meet again after your long journeys.”

  Peleg jumped as a spasm of fear gripped his throat. The disembodied voice came from the left chair on the stage directly in front of him! He shuddered for a moment, adjusting to the fact that he was not alone in this room—and also to the realization that he recognized the voice!

  It was the voice of Inanna.

  “Mentor Inanna?” he asked ten
tatively, looking around for a hidden location from which she could throw her voice. He was dismissing, for the moment, what Shem had said about Mentors.

  “Chief Cartographer Peleg, of the Urbat,” Inanna’s voice continued, formally identifying the startled man before the stage. Peleg stared more intently in the direction of the voice, and was astonished to see the jewels on the back of the chair begin to shift and move, rise suddenly, and then detach from the chair and begin flying towards him.

  He ducked instinctively, but as they came closer, the shape of a tall woman emerged from beneath the levitating gems, and Peleg finally realized what was happening.

  Inanna was standing on the stage before him, covered in a silky black linen robe, and wearing a multifaceted diadem on her head—which had previously been aligned with the gems above the chair. A dark veil was draped over her head, but as she stepped forward, and the lights from the back lamps pierced translucently through her garments, Peleg could finally see her unmistakable features beneath the sheer coverings.

  Peleg stepped back and tipped his head up, trying to look into her face. In spite of his fear, he attempted to speak again.

  “Mentor Inanna,” he began carefully. “I am so pleased and relieved to finally…”

  “I am now High Minister,” she said calmly, and then waited for his response.

  Peleg quickly apologized—which was most certainly the reaction she desired.

  “Forgive me,” he said quickly. “I had heard, but I was not sure. I only addressed you as I knew you from before.”

  She laughed suddenly and extended a hand down towards Peleg, revealing long black sleeves which also had embroidered jewelry that aligned with the arms of her chair. He reached for it, and when they clasped, their thumbs interlocked, and she gripped his hand so tightly that it hurt. With very little effort, she curled her arm towards herself and stepped backwards, hauling Peleg up onto the stage, placing him directly in front of her.