by Ono Ekeh
“Why are they all staring at me?” Vesta asked, nodding her head toward the silent crowd who’d watched the entire interaction.
The room broke into gentle murmurs and giggles as the people turned away and talked to each other quietly.
“Is this not the way of your people?” Hera asked, her lips teasing a smile at the edges.
Vesta shook her head as she chewed hungrily at another fruit.
“I apologize. You understand, don’t you... to see someone from a parallel world. It’s a wonder,” Tumai said. “May I ask... what God you worship?”
“Her name is Thysia,” Vesta replied.
The people gasped and stared in silence.
“We follow the Most High, the One than whom nothing greater can be conceived,” Vesta said. “Surely you must worship her, too? How else could we have found each other?”
Hera smiled. “Our God is Ryna—pronounced, rhee-nay. The subject and term, the object of all love. She is love itself.”
Vesta took in a deep breath and edged to the tip of the bed. “Our Thysia, she is the one before whom all words—“
“Recoil?” Hera completed with a smile. “The one before whom all words recoil? Your Thysia is our Ryna!”
The room erupted in muted cheers. Vesta watched in amusement as they shook hands and congratulated each other.
“Does the word ‘believe’ mean anything to you?” Tumai asked.
“In a speculative sense, yes,” Vesta replied. “But no one actually believes. You either know or you don’t.”
Hera’s eyes opened in clear fascination. “Know? What is that?”
“It must be our correlate,” Vesta said. “You, in this world, believe. In ours, we know.”
Tumai whispered to Hera, “I think ‘know’ is faith in immutable order.” He shook his head as though incredulous. “We found them. We actually found them. She is from index one hundred.”
“I’m glad I’m here,” Vesta said. “I must confess, it’s less haphazard that I expected.”
“You confuse random for chaos,” Hera said. “The random is generated by being, while chaos is the absence of being. Chaos has no hope of order even with the intervention of being.”
Vesta chuckled. “We spent hours theorizing about randomness. There is no difference for us between randomness and chaos. But it is a distinction that is clear to you.”
“Our world is simply a non-recurring permutation of an infinite set of things,” Hera said with a smile. “Purple is still purple. I am me... essences, though fluid, remain. It’s the combinations that change.”
Vesta closed her eyes as she tried to follow Hera’s line of thought.
Tumai continued. “Randomness is a pure expression of the beauty of being, just as absolute order, on the other end of the spectrum, is the expression of beauty. Since not everything is God, but everything that is not God is created, then that which is not God is inherently random prior to its formal configuration. Our world is that instance of creation on the edge of form. We are the instant divine ideas become real.”
“In ours, everything is nature,” Vesta said. “One never deviates from what one is.”
“We’ve done much talking,” Tumai said. “Would you like to rest?”
“No, thank you. There’s a reason I’m here, and we must attend to that.”
“Our world is collapsing,” Hera said, holding Vesta’s hands.
“As is ours,” Vesta responded. “We figured that if we were collapsing, so would the complement world. It was why we created the bridge to find you. If both our worlds fail, it’ll trigger a cascading failure in all parallel worlds between us on the probability distribution spectrum.”
Tumai took a deep breath and signaled to a Selite. “We can’t leave this building, but we have been authorized by our World Council to act on behalf of the people. Our world is one of absolute discontinuity. This building shields us from the Wave for a time, after which we succumb to it, as does everyone else out there. We need you to understand that as we speak or interact, everything may change. If Wave pulses this moment, you’ll find yourself dealing with another person, another Director. The Selites will preserve any information and ensure continuity for you. That is, if you remain unaffected.”
“With our shielding, the variations in this building are limited,” Hera said. “You’ll still find yourself dealing with one of us here until the Wave reclaims all. Hopefully, you’ll be gone by then.”
Vesta stood on unsteady legs. “How can you live this way? With this inherent randomness?”
“I know it is strange to you, but the order and rigidness of anything else is terrifying,” Hera said. “We live in complete joy of the spontaneity of our lives. To do otherwise would mean to be burdened with the future and oppressed by order.”
“Can you plan for the future?” Vesta asked.
“No, but, why would you?” Tumai asked. “We think there was a time in our distant evolution when some of us could, but nature selected them out. This is no world for planners, only for those who live in the moment.”
“Do you wake up in the morning to a different woman or man in your bed? A different wife or husband?”
Hera smiled at Vesta’s clear incredulity. “We own no one. We are all wives and husbands, girlfriends and boyfriends, fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters. Yes, we wake up to discontinuity, and love whoever is there before us. You, now, are here before me. And I love you with all my heart.”
“Such freedom,” Vesta marveled. “So pure. So naïve. Would you all like to get chairs and sit? I am in awe of you, as you must be of me, and I love having you all here.”
Excited chatter filled the room, all eyes still focused on Vesta, who was still standing as everyone sat on the floor around her.
Vesta laughed in delight at the childlike behavior.
A young man walked up to her, clothes in his hand. He began to remove Vesta’s shirt. Vesta stepped back in surprise, almost tipping over. “No, thank you. I can manage if you’ll just give me those.”
He looked confused. “I thought the gold would match your skin tone, and the scarf, your eyes. They are a beautiful blend of gray and green.”
She smiled. “That is so sweet of you. But I’m fine with what I have on. It’ll do.” She looked around and all eyes were on her. “Oh, dear. Did I say something wrong?”
Tumai held her hand. “You have not wronged us. But why...”
“Consent,” Vesta whispered to herself. “You have no concept of consent, do you?”
“Consent?” Tumai said. “The expression of gratitude?”
“No,” Vesta laughed. “I mean to agree to a choice. This young man offered me those clothes, but I gave no consent for him to dress me.”
“You mean you might not want him to dress you?” Hera gasped. She looked at Tumai. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“You just dress each other when you feel like it?” Vesta asked.
“Yes,” Hera said. “If I have something that will be a good fit for you, I give it to you and you receive it. My regrets. We worked so hard to understand what you might be like, but I fear we failed.”
“No. You have been most wonderful hosts. I will receive the clothes. You may dress me.”
The man approached tentatively, but Vesta beamed at him. He was joined by others who removed her clothes, washed her, and clothed her, while others worked on her hair. She was itching to talk about the world collapse problem, but they seemed to have no concern for time.
It had been thirty minutes, and Vesta desperately wanted to look in a mirror to see what they’d done to her. She was unsure about the etiquette of such a request, though. She guessed one simply accepted a gift and did not second-guess its quality. The shoes, made of a tightly woven straw-like fabric, looked like they’d be prickly, but were rather comfortable. Her underclothes had been replaced by a singular tight outfit that covered from her ankles to her shoulders, and out to her wrists. Like the shoes, it was far more comfortable than it
looked. A gold button-down dress with elbow-length sleeves and a wide waistband completed the outfit. She couldn’t see her hair, but from all the looks she got, they were impressed. She felt elegant, even if such a feeling was out of place at this time.
“Is this a good time to talk more about why I am here?” Vesta asked.
“Absolutely,” Tumai said. “We would love to hear your thoughts. We could use your guidance.”
“Based on our analysis,” Vesta said, “the collapse of our two worlds is intentional—someone has set out to destroy us—all of us. I realize this may not be clear to you. When we figured that our world was headed to destruction, as was yours, we made plans for contact. In the process, we did an analysis of what we thought you would be like. It occurred to us that you may not understand the concept of violence.”
Everyone looked back and forth at each other. A voice, tentative, spoke up. “Do you mean, to cause harm?”
“Yes, precisely that,” Vesta replied. “But to do so intentionally.”
Her statement was greeted by a collective horrified gasp. There was commotion as the Selites were whisked from the room and several others departed, leaving Vesta with Tumai, Hera, and a handful of people.
“Did I say something wrong?” Vesta asked.
“No,” Hera said, holding Vesta’s hand. She massaged Vesta’s fingers gently. “We believe theoretically that there is a concept of evil—we just don’t know it, and most importantly, we must never imprint that idea on the Selites. This is why they were removed.”
“Why?”
“They are pure passivity,” Hera said. “They have no personalities or independence, as far as we can tell. All they are, all they have, is what we give to them. They are elements of pure love because it is all we have, though in various degrees. But if they were exposed to evil, then such evil would persist in them for eternity. If the Selites are corrupted, they would introduce that evil into our world. It would change us and affect the entire spectrum of worlds by consequence. Our world anchors love and goodness in the human spectrum of worlds. The Selites anchor us in our goodness and love. Their purity is an utmost priority for us.”
“How did they come to be? Did you make them? Or did they evolve?”
“We don’t know. They’ve always been with us,” Tumai said. “They tell us they are a gift from the gods.”
“Gods?” Vesta asked in surprise.
“Yes. I see your confusion,” Tumai said. “We, too, don’t understand what they mean. There is only one God, Ryna. But it is what they say, and we trust them.”
He took Vesta by the hand. “We are glad you’re here. We can’t leave our world. We would never survive in any other world, but you can survive in every world. But our gifts, our faith, our perception of all things probable are perhaps what will save us all. Come with me. Let us show you how you can help.” He led her back into the large adjoining amphitheater, at the center of which was the containment chamber.
“A baby?” Vesta asked, hearing soft cries.
“Yes,” Hera said. “The Selites tell us that since she was born, she counters the Wave sometimes. She appears to have the capacity to anticipate and preserve a measure of sameness. She’s us—but so much more.”
A Selite laid the cooing baby in Hera’s arms, and Hera in turn gave her to Vesta.
“She’s beautiful,” Vesta whispered. “How old is she?”
“We don’t know. Age is not relevant to us.”
Vesta turned to the Selite to offer her thanks, but Hera stood in front of her, her neck muscles taut and her face twitching. “You must never speak to them. You are a violent woman. I mean no disrespect.”
“Why can’t I speak to them?” Vesta asked, confused. “You have no violence in your world at all?”
Hera shook her head. “We only know love. No one has ever committed—or will ever intentionally commit—harm in our world. Yes, violence and evil are logical possibilities when you think of them in contrast to good, but goodness that has evil as a contrast is an impoverished idea of the good.”
Vesta countered, “We assume that every parallel world on the spectrum has evil. But maybe yours, as a zero-probability world, is the only one that doesn’t.”
“Yes. And no other world has the Selites. We must not risk having you contaminate them by speaking to them,” Hera said. “I will thank it for you.”
“Sure. I apologize,” Vesta said. “I meant no offense.” The eyes around her bore no malice, and seemed befuddled by her apology.
“She may be able to save us,” Tumai said, pointing to the child in Vesta’s arms.
“We have enough power to generate another bridge, hopefully before the next Wave. We will send her with you to any world, and maybe she can help save us,” Hera said.
“We have determined the optimal world in which to operate,” Vesta said. “It is perfectly balanced, and I have the perfect situation in mind, if you can get me there.” She took special notice when Tumai and Hera looked at each other.
“What’s wrong now?” she said, worried that she’d said or done something wrong.
“We must send some Selites with you, so that the baby always has memories and all their gifts at her disposal. The Selites will enter her and live in her body.”
“Ah! The challenge,” Vesta said. “In whatever world I choose, the Selites must be preserved from the stain of evil.”
Her hosts nodded. “No one must ever know. The power and possibilities they offer is much too great for anyone not of our world.”
“So if the Selites must live in this child, she must then be preserved from the stain of evil so as not to sully them?”
She received nods of agreement.
“But how?” Vesta looked back and forth. “That would be impossible, especially in the world I will take her to.”
“She must be raised like us,” Tumai said. “She must not follow your Thysia, but Ryna, wholeheartedly. It is only then that she will be preserved from evil and will not stain the Selites. Your Thysia permits evil. Ryna does not.”
“It means that you must not raise her or have contact with her,” Hera said. “Your world is a violent one. We’ve imagined that you would have no hesitation to use violence if it were justified in your eyes.”
“This is true,” Vesta said. “For us, things are or are not. I suppose when you believe you know truth, any disagreement is the first step to conflict. We are very combative, but we do eventually resolve all issues with truth.”
They all stared at her. The entire amphitheater was silent.
“I give you my word. I will not raise her, nor contact her. She will be raised with knowledge of Ryna alone.” She exhaled as she witnessed the apprehension melting from the faces of her hosts.
“I have one request, though, before we leave,” Vesta said.
“Absolutely,” Hera said. “Everything we have is for everyone else. Any request will be granted.”
“Can you ask one of the Selites who this baby is and what is her story? Her history?”
“History?”
“Yes. What things have happened to her?”
Tumai took a deep breath. “We don’t have such a concept, but I will ask.” He turned to a Selite. “Tell us about the events of this child. All its previous present moments.”
In a moment of commotion, all the Selites rushed to gather together. They lined up in the aisle going upward, and in unison began to recite the history of the child Theresa Bridget.
“The chronicles of Theresa Bridget, the re-incarnation of Nouei, god and Queen of the Ashwan.” Their majestic voices paused in precise unity and then started up again. “The words of Queen Siyesu, god of the Puthna. Mother of the Selites. There is nothing like being married to a God. There is nothing like being loved by a God. There is nothing so vibrant...”
Chapter 2
The two Rynean Sisters, one standing, the other kneeling, steadied themselves against the wind circling the cavern shaft. Another gust sent the ritual book of pra
yers flying out of Sister Vesta Kaypore’s hands, sending it deep into the darkness of the cavern. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was for Sister Qhy to maintain her resolve.
Sister Kaypore secured her green scarf to her robe. “Is this your testimony, Sister Qhy?” she asked.
The fawn-like woman met her gaze. “I saw the blue light of Ryna. In this very cavern. This is my testimony.”
Sister Kaypore tried to recall the next step of the death ritual. Sister Qhy had to consent to die. “Is this your will? To die to preserve our secret, our Order?”
The young woman held both of Sister Kaypore’s hands between her smooth palms. “The path to the land of my Fathers has been opened for me; illuminated by the light of Ryna. If it please the Lord, dismiss me and let me go—into Lord Rynae’s bosom.”
Sister Kaypore regarded the young Sister. She had only been with the Order of Ryna for five months, but now she was to be taken from them—the fate of all who see the light. She wanted to crouch and hug her, but she had to be steadfast. If she couldn’t encourage the ritual to completion, she couldn’t demand steadfastness of anyone else; most of all, the young woman kneeling before her.
“Please don’t cry.” Sister Qhy stood and reached out to comfort the stately elder Sister. “I am frightened... and happy.” She wiped Sister Kaypore’s tears with her hands and peered downward, deep into the darkness. No one knew what was down there. Sister Kaypore’s muffled cries continued as Sister Qhy stood by the glass wall that separated the cavern shaft from the great hall behind her called “The Cavern Room.”
All the Order’s resident Brothers and Sisters at the Monastery of Light had come to see her off. Behind the glass wall, hundreds of their silent, intent faces, betraying no grief, willed her on. Euthanasia, they called it. The sweet death. The death of one’s choosing. The purest sacrifice for Ryna.
She touched the glass wall. A hand on the other side touched the glass, too. She blew a soft kiss and sniffled as she saw their faces melt into tears. Taking a deep breath, she turned and approached the short railing at the cavern’s edge. Sister Kaypore reached out with a copper vessel full of earth. She scooped out a generous amount and poured it into Sister Qhy’s hands.
