Paradise Reclaimed

by Raymond Harris

  “And you?” asked her father.

  “I have not been told, but I am certain it is Earth, although I do not know in what capacity.”

  “This will bring great honour to the family, to your ancestors,” Fa’anui announced. “They would be ashamed if we did not send you off in the traditional manner befitting a seafarer, a warrior.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Isla, fascinated by the formal turn of events.

  “A lot of singing, hula and kava, or what passes for it on Eden, and lots of laughter and tears,” whispered Nuku.

  “Hula?”

  “Traditional Polynesian dancing. This will get raucous and you will get drunk. I hope you are not busy tomorrow.”

  They collapsed into bed in the early hours of the morning, their heads spinning from alcohol and exhaustion caused by the exuberant dancing. They had been given a separate room in honour of their journey and as a formal recognition of their status as a couple, although they were too tired to do anything but kiss and cuddle before sleep dragged them into darkness. Isla’s dreams were a vivid recollection of the night’s events, of the melodies of the traditional songs and the passion and energy of the dances; especially the intense eroticism of the hula and even more especially the sensuous way Nuku swayed her hips. She had certainly not expected the hula of love to end with a girl and boy (cousins) actually having sex as part of the dance (as had been the tradition before the ancient Polynesians were colonised). Nuku had explained that her family was of polyglot Polynesian heritage, part Maori, Tahitian and Hawaiian, and that they had created a polyglot Polynesian tradition to suit, trying to return as much to the original kahiko, or ancient way, as possible.

  Nuku woke three hours later, suddenly anxious. She rose carefully so as not to disturb Isla, who was curled up fast asleep in the foetal position, and walked out into the courtyard. Both moons had set and it was dark, save for the firebugs flittering around in the boo tree. She looked up into the night sky. Judging by the height of the Great Spiral Nebula it was close to dawn. She looked to the southern sky and saw the bright, steady reddish light of the gas giant, Apollo. The sight filled her with a confusing mixture of excitement and gut wrenching fear. Somewhere in the constellation Gaia, just to the left of Apollo, was the small star of Sol, Earth’s sun. It was hard to believe that she was destined to travel to that tiny speck of light, yet she had known all along she would be going. Why had she denied her intuition? She walked to the kitchen to fetch the glass of water just as a startled firebug flew toward her face. She had two simultaneous and immediate reactions: she gasped with fright and her left hand automatically shot out to catch it, as she had done when she was a child. She was shaking with fright as she opened the palm of her hand to let the beautiful, glowing insect fly away. Why was she so unusually spooked? With her finely attuned peripheral vision she had seen it well before it could hit her. She took a deep breath. Something was wrong. Her basal ganglia was sensing danger and pumping her system with adrenaline, yet her frontal cortex, her rational process, was struggling to find a logical justification for her anxiety. She tried to think things through as she drank the water. Her stomach was churning, a sure sign she was fighting her intuition. And then it was there. The awful thought: the president had said Earth might be hostile but she was now certain it would be hostile. Eden was preparing for war and she was going to play a part in that war. Her intuition was telling her, no screaming at her, that she was heading into danger, life-threatening danger.

  And now she felt fear. Because, despite knowing that she would be involved in a war, she knew she would still go. Eden was destined to reconnect with the remnants of humanity. It was even possible she still had distant relatives there. It was therefore inconceivable that they would not attempt to re-establish contact and if they were to do so, it was logically necessary that it be from a position of strength. But there was another realisation; her distant ancestors had been proud Polynesian warriors. Perhaps war was in her blood.

  She returned to the bed knowing that she probably would not sleep. She looked at Isla, who had rolled onto her back, and felt an unbridgeable distance. What had she been thinking? This relationship could not be serious. Fate was about to separate them by countless light years. Nothing could possibly come of it. Perhaps it had been a kind of escape: a harmless fling on the night before a long journey – a tale as old as humanity itself. She admired Isla, felt as if she was a kindred spirit, her intellectual equal. She recognised a pang of envy. Isla was going on an adventure to a new world and would return to Eden inspired and recharged. But she was going to an old and tired world and if she returned, she would return irrevocably changed, perhaps even wounded in some way. She could not conceive that she and Isla would have anything in common after that. And yet she had grown fond of her, even in such a short time. There was just something about her.

  50

  Biyu

  They decided on a quiet night in. Zoe cooked a delicious meal and Biyu, who no longer had to carefully watch her diet, indulged in a rich dessert. They were curled up on the couch canoodling and half-seriously talking about plans for the long-term future when the president’s address aired. They watched it silently, although they could not resist a few whispered gasps when the vids of Calliope and Erato were shown.

  Zoe was the first to speak when it ended. “So that was the big fucking secret,” she complained angrily.

  “I think so,” Biyu replied.

  “You think so? Isn’t it obvious?”

  “I don’t know for sure. They haven’t told me yet.”

  Zoe reacted with scepticism. “It is obvious they want you to join their little army of defenders. It will be a propaganda coup.”

  “Zoe, careful,” Biyu cautioned her.

  Zoe remained silent for a second. “See, nothing, no warning. I’m right you know. This has all been carefully manipulated.”

  Biyu was surprised by Zoe’s rebellion. “You think we shouldn’t explore the stars?”

  “It’s not that,” she said trying to work out her emotive response. “It’s… It’s… They’re taking you from me. Fuck the stars…”

  Biyu laughed and Zoe smiled, seeing the absurdity of her complaint.

  “I’ll return. It won’t be forever.”

  Zoe’s eyes began to well with tears. “But don’t you understand fuckbaby? You are going to Earth, not to some silly uninhabited planet – not with your skills. And the president said it herself. Earth is hostile.”

  “They haven’t told me…”

  “Oh don’t be naive, put two and two together. The psyches have worked it all out. People will feel more confident if they send our best fighters to Earth, send the champion.” A tear ran down her cheek. “They kill each other on Earth. You… You could be killed.”

  Biyu remembered the warning justice Goya had given her about being prepared to kill and the ramifications finally hit her. The justice hadn’t been talking about killing predators on alien planets. She had been talking about humans. She felt sick with the realisation. Not because she was afraid but because she knew without a doubt that when it came to it she could kill and kill decisively, it was the meaning of her dream.

  Zoe looked at her, clearly frightened. “You know don’t you? You’re going even though you know you might be asked to kill?” She grabbed Biyu by the shoulders with desperation, her eyes red with tears.

  “I have to…”

  “You don’t have to; you can back out. I’m going to have your baby aren’t I? I want you there when your daughter is born, fuck you.”

  Biyu didn’t know what to say to Zoe. She couldn’t back down. She knew she wanted the adventure but she also wanted Zoe and the baby. “You can back out if you want…”

  Zoe reacted instantly by slapping her hard across the face. “I don’t fucking want to back out. I love you. I want your baby. What I don’t want is for you to die on that shithole Earth.”

  She collapsed into Biyu’s arms sobbing with prescient grief and Biy
u trembled with fear. She realised she had no idea what she was getting herself into.

  When Zoe’s tears subsided Biyu guided her to bed. Zoe seemed resigned to Biyu’s decision and they made love tainted by sadness and desperation. Biyu remembered something she had read, that for thousands of years humans had made love like this before soldiers went to war and that billions of them had died, leaving billions of mothers to raise their children alone.

  It filled her with dread.

  51

  Akash

  He confided everything to Tshering. There were no secrets between them. She was a calm centre and a wise council. They didn’t always agree but he always listened carefully. She was not naïve. She understood exactly what was at stake. The Bhutanese could be disarmingly pragmatic. They were not naively tolerant and they understood clearly that not every new idea was a good idea. When Nepalese Hindu refugees, the Lhotshampa, began to challenge Bhutanese language and culture, the Bhutanese declared them to be illegal immigrants and forced them to leave the country. As a Hindu, this had made him extremely uncomfortable, even when Tshering patiently explained that the Lhotshampa were causing political and cultural instability and had begun to advocate political violence to impose their language and culture.

  The subject wasn’t exactly taboo and he had raised it several times with senior Bhutanese. They patiently pointed out that orthodox Hinduism itself had spread throughout India, gradually taking over and dominating other religions, including Buddhism, pushing them to the margins. Wherever they went they imposed the caste system, often relegating the indigenous people to the status of Dalit, or Untouchable. They explained that the Lhotshampa maintained a complex caste system with intolerable notions of caste superiority. Tshering had forcefully argued that the Hindus were also deeply patriarchal and pointed proudly to Bhutan’s matriarchal tradition, attempts to create gender equality in all levels of government and the exalted status of female Siddhas and Bodhisattvas. To tease him she also reminded him that her clan had practiced polyandry and that she, along with other women, had opposed the previous king’s decision to ban the practice.

  “You need to think very carefully about what kind of society this new world will be,” she had said one night over dinner. “I will have no part in it if it simply repeats the mistakes of this one. We have preserved our culture by rejecting the toxic ideas of others.”

  He nodded. “But they will create their own society over time. They will have the final choice.”

  She smiled in her gently condescending manner, as if he had missed some vital point. “If you plant the seed of an exotic weed, water it and feed it, it will grow and take over the native vegetation. The Bhutanese government has a campaign to eradicate the parthenium weed, which has caused havoc on the subcontinent. People have died from an allergic reaction and it causes severe dermatitis, cattle and native herbivores cannot digest it…”

  He smiled. He could not fault her logic. “But we cannot impose a set of values…”

  She interrupted him immediately. “No, but you can select the people already amenable…”

  “I see, add some new criteria to our final selection process?”

  She nodded. “Not everyone who wants to come to Bhutan because they think it is Shangri La can come. If everyone who wanted to come were allowed, it would no longer be Shangri La.” She stood to clear the table, not out of deference to her husband, but because like all Bhutanese women, she was head of the household. “This girl Li Li, I would like to meet her.” It was not so much a request as an order.

  “Why?” he asked out of surprise.

  “I want to see what she is like, weed or improved variety.”

  “I see, I thought you were opposed to genetic engineering…”

  “I’m unsure. Buddhism is not inherently opposed like the Christians or Muslims, who believe it is a form of idolatry and that only their god can decide.” She rested the plates she had collected on the table as she considered her words. “The only objection is if such manipulation causes more suffering. If it can ease suffering then it is acceptable, even desirable. In fact, one might argue that the discovery of this science is the result of collective karmic merit. It may be a way for humanity to lift itself out of kali yuga into a higher expression. If that is the case, then I would want Pema and this one,” she said patting her stomach, “to benefit – if, that is, I like this Li Li. Now what do you want for desert husband, mango and ice cream?”

  “And you?” He asked, meaning gene therapy.

  “We’ll see,” she said bending over to give him a quick kiss.

  Li Li was nervous as she knocked on his apartment door the next day. She had met Akash’s wife only briefly, but even then she had an impression of great charm that masked a fierce intellect.

  Tshering opened the door and Li Li was immediately welcomed by her generous smile. She was certainly beautiful with the full round, ruddy face of Himalayan women. She was also dressed immaculately in a brightly coloured, formal silk kira and matching silk toego, her jet-black hair cut short and her face free of Western make-up. In contrast Li Li felt awkward in her jeans and simple sweatshirt.

  “I’m sorry,” Li Li mumbled. “I feel underdressed.”

  Tshering laughed. “And now I feel overdressed. We Bhutanese women like to dress to impress. It is vanity,” she said in carefully articulated but heavily accented English.

  She gestured for Li Li to enter and Li Li stood for a moment to admire the apartment. “It’s beautiful,” she said as she looked at the mixture of modern Western and traditional Bhutanese furniture complimented by exquisite antique Buddhist statues and thangkas hanging on the wall. “I have an aunt who is a Buddhist, well, as much a Buddhist as a Parisian bourgeois can be. She has met the Dalai Lama,” she said to make polite conversation. “Have you?”

  Tshering smiled politely, kindly ignoring Li Li’s mistake. “No, he is the head of the Gelugpa, a different sect – a yellow hat.”

  “Ah, I am sorry, that’s right. I forgot… Your brother, of course, how silly of me… Nyingma, am I right?”

  Tshering tilted her head slightly to acknowledge she was correct. “It is a common mistake…”

  “There are four main sects and several lineages. I’ve been reading about Drukpa Kinley, fascinating…” She paused. “I’m sorry I’m nervous and I’m gushing…”

  “No, I am happy you have taken the time to understand something of our culture.” Tshering said as she guided Li Li toward the balcony, which had been set with a table for two. “It’s such a beautiful day and we have such a beautiful view of the valley and the mountains.”

  Li Li stood and admired the view for a moment before taking her seat. “Tea?” asked Tshering already reaching for a traditional teapot. “You must be wondering why I asked to meet you?” She said before Li Li could say yes.

  “A little,” she replied taking her seat.

  “I want you to tell me all about Crickets,” she said as she offered Li Li a biscuit. “I made them myself.”

  “Ah, I see, but of course, one day you will meet them. There are eight of us but I suspect there may be more soon if I am correct?”

  Tshering gave a small smile as she sipped her tea.

  “I am the oldest. It is best if you are young because of the growth process. It will work on adults, but not as dramatically.” Li Li looked to see if Tshering understood, although she had already guessed Tshering was much smarter than she let on. “The others are Anaïs and Jules Sauveterre, my professor’s children and the twins Lars and Freja Thorsson from Sweden.

  “So, this is a truly international movement.”

  “Yes… And finally, Alice Kim. I think you’ll meet her first, when you come with us to Seoul. She is the daughter of Dr Kim Yun-Ji, who will perform the procedure.”

  “I haven’t said I’ll be…”

  “But this is about Pema and the soon-to-be, is it not?” said Li Li cutting her short. “You’ll be wanting to know if it is safe, non?”

&
nbsp; Tshering was blushing because Li Li had clearly known all along. She had probably guessed that this was now just a formality because Tshering had known as soon as she had looked into Li Li’s eyes and sensed something powerful that she would say yes.

  While Li Li was meeting Tshering, Akash was reviewing a report Aviva had sent earlier in the morning. It contained grave news. Sunni militants had attacked a school sponsored by Shunyata in Lebanon. The school had been established to support a cluster of talented children from a Druze village close to the border with Syria. He was struggling to understand why they would attack a school and distressed to learn that three of its brightest students had been killed outright, including a very promising girl called Ovadia Abu Shakra, who had an IQ of 165. The report suggested that neighbouring Sunni villagers had spread rumours that the school was a cover for either the CIA or Mossad (or both). Aviva’s assessment was that the villagers, traditionally hostile to the Druze, had become jealous of the success of the school and its students. It was not the first time religious fanatics had attacked schools throughout the Muslim world and attempted to replace them with madrasas. It was an intolerable situation but one he had few resources to combat. Shunyata’s corporate militias were deployed protecting critical assets. As much as he would have liked to hunt the killers down, he couldn’t, although he briefly contemplated supporting the local Druze militia who would already be planning revenge. The one good piece of news was that Ovadia’s younger sister Nour had survived and the report suggested she had as much potential as her older sister.

  Aviva’s report ended with a proposed plan of action. It listed those schools she thought were the most vulnerable to attack. She feared that using their networks, Sunni militants might spread more rumours about other Shunyata sponsored schools. It was not something she could be certain about because they no longer used the digital domain to pass messages. Her guess was based on the way paranoid memes spread throughout any community. She therefore suggested, where possible, that the most vulnerable and valuable students be relocated. This was difficult because it would mean uprooting entire families. Failing that she suggested hiring armed guards. This too was difficult, simply because it might draw more attention to the schools. He looked at the list: Nigeria, Tunisia, Egypt, Jordan and Indonesia, with a total of six valuable assets, four girls and two boys. Ideally they should be included in the enhancement program. In fact, if it were at all possible, all his gifted students should have access to the enhancement program.