“Meaning - isn’t that a higher order need?”
“Belonging, affirmation, feeling alive, needed - what happens when the stomach is full and one is safe from danger. Then one can express one’s true nature, be it cat-nature, horse-nature, ant-nature, human-nature…”
“Cricket-nature?”
Anaïs laughed, understanding it was a reference to their unique circumstances. “To reach one’s full expression, to find joy in being, to play, like a wild horse galloping free in a mountain meadow.”
“And you think Eden will be that meadow for humanity?”
Anaïs nodded. “Earth could have been, but we are our own limitation: our fears, anxieties, our limited thinking.”
This idea had been her key motivation in seeing that everyone’s needs were being met and that no one was feeling excluded. Her main focus had been the team, and once she had done all she could to knit the team together, she had done what she could with the larger support group (who really just wanted to feel included). And now, with this gathering, she could assess how much she had succeeded. Akoi was no longer the outsider and it seemed as if she and Connie had formed a closer bond (she did not know if it had become sexual). Prosperous was now much happier, especially since Anaïs had initiated the affair; and although they had kept it private, tonight they had let their guard drop and Anaïs was curled up comfortably next to him on a divan for everyone to see (it would be pointless for people to complain as Prosperous would be off-world in a few days). Even Archi had found some form of companionship with Shunji. And Anne, well, that was a work in progress, but she had started to look fondly at Jules and he was beginning to openly flirt with her.
The real triumph however, had been to see Freja and Alice bring Tshering into the fold, and along with her, Akash and Pema. The fact that Freja was now, more or less, Akash and Tshering’s consort, was still a secret (except between the Crickets) but it too, was a matter of time before it would be openly known on Eden.
As for the others, well, she had sown what seeds she could and she could do no more. Her focus had to be on Eden; those on Earth could look after themselves.
David finished his song and she walked over to sit beside him. His eyes dropped to avoid looking at her directly, but when she took his hand he fought his cultural shyness and looked at her with smiling eyes. They were hypnotic; deep wells that promised something much deeper.
“That was deadly,” she teased him, having learnt that it was slang for awesome.
He smiled and she kissed him on the cheek. She briefly wondered if tonight was the night, but decided against it. He had entranced her one night by telling her an Aboriginal dreamtime myth that explained conception. Children were nature spirits. When the time was right, a spirit entered a woman and became a child. When people died, their spirits returned to nature, where they might again enter another woman. Of course the rationalist in her knew that it was an animist myth, but she also thought it was poetic. She smiled and his eyes twinkled. Without words they had agreed that they would wait until Eden, in the hope that any child conceived would be a spirit being, and thus a true child of Eden.
67
Akash
He was becoming increasingly concerned. The news out of America was not good. There was nothing in the official media but the back channels were alive with reports of troop movements and panicked communications. Aviva had started feeding intelligence to the Canadians and sympathetic Eastern states, and they had started to mobilise. The Texans were aware of the leak but had no idea of the source and were busy turning in on themselves with paranoid suspicion. But this only served to delay any military action or concocted false flag events.
His concern was the impact this would have on his project. The first team was due to leave the next day and the second team was being finalised. It was what happened after that occupied his thoughts now. How could he send the first mass wave of settlers in the midst of a war? What of the second, third and subsequent waves? He was beginning to panic. The worst-case scenario was that the first two teams would be abandoned on Eden. They might survive, perhaps into old age, but they were too small in number to survive as a colony (although Alice had calmly told him how the surviving members of the Bounty had settled on Pitcairn Island with just twenty adults – nine Bounty survivors and eleven Tahitians). It wasn’t just the threat of inbreeding but the threat of technological collapse. The survivors would be thrown back to a primitive state.
The worst thing was the feeling of helplessness. How many times had human progress been thwarted by human folly? He remembered a conversation he had with Sauveterre over dinner the week he had arrived. Sipping a cognac Sauveterre was engaging in practiced after-dinner conversation by telling them about the failed city of Platonopolis.
“It was to be built out of the ruined city of Campania,” he said softly to better draw their attention. “The emperor Gallienus…”
“It was really his wife, Cornelia Salonina,” Anaïs sighed, correcting him, with Marie-Louise smiling her approval.
“I was getting to that,” he said defensively, looking to Akash for some male support.
“But you know she was the driving force,” said Marie-Louise.
He sighed. “Oui, oui – as I was saying…”
“I have not heard of Gallienus,” said Alice. “When did he govern?”
“260 AD,” said Jules.
“The Christian era?” asked Alice.
“Indeed,” continued Sauveterre, “which makes the story even more interesting. Salonina was a disciple of the great philosopher Plotinus and he proposed building a city dedicated to philosophy based on Plato’s Republic…”
“Hence Platonopolis?” Akash added.
“Oui, tellement - just so. Apparently the plans were well advanced and Gallienus was about to give his support.”
“But the empire was under attack from the Alameni,” said Jules, knowing the story well.
“As well as internal revolts from usurpers,” said Sauveterre quickly, trying to regain the conversation from his precocious children. “The point is that bureaucrats thwarted the proposal because so much revenue was already being spent on war and internal bickering. But imagine if Plotinus and Salonina had succeeded? It’s one of those turning points in history.”
“I am not that familiar with Plotinus,” Akash admitted.
“He was a monist, not unlike some Indian philosophers,” said Sauveterre.
“You know he travelled East with the intention of studying Persian and Indian philosophy,” said Marie-Louise, suddenly animated. “Some argue that his concept of the One is very like the Buddhist idea of Shunyata. An ineffable undivided as the underlying reality.”
“The void?” he asked, suddenly excited.
“Oui, during the Roman Empire… Imagine that? I often wonder what would have happened if the city had been built. What if it had invited scholars from the East? Trade with the East was already well-established.”
“It wasn’t long after that, that Rome became Christianised,” Anaïs added.
“Just forty-six years, one generation. Constantine was a young boy during Gallienus’s rule. Had Platonopolous been built he may very well have studied there,” said Sauveterre.
“Are you suggesting he may not have made his momentous decision?” Akash asked.
“Who knows? Plotinus’s philosophy had an important impact on later Christian theology. If Christians, Gnostics, Buddhists and Greeks had debated these issues at Platonopolous, perhaps Christianity itself would have been changed? I don’t think it would have saved the Western empire from the barbarian invasions. Perhaps it would have eventually be sacked and destroyed, just like the famous Buddhist University of Nalanda was razed by Muslim barbarians.”
“You know that Plato’s Republic would have allowed the participation of women. Plato argued that sex didn’t affect intellect. Platonopolous may very well have had female scholars,” said Anaïs.
“Yes, it is little known that there were women
philosophers and scholars during the classical era,” Marie-Louise added. “This ended during the Christian era.”
“Really?” asked Tshering, entering the conversation, thinking of the noted women in the Nyingma tradition.
“Yes, like Hypatia,” Alice added coldly, “but the Christians killed her.”
The conversation continued to discuss the possible links between Greek and Indian philosophy. It seemed as if there had been a very real possibility of a deeper fusion just a few short years before the dominance of Christianity. What if Buddhist philosophers had lived and taught in Platonopolous? It was a thought that haunted him for days after. It troubled him to think that humanity could get so close, only to throw it away. He did not think Eden would be like Platonopolous. Plato’s system looked too much like the Arya caste system. But it did seem that greed and war was always just around the corner, ready to throw civilisations back into barbarism.
It was getting late. Tshering would be getting dinner ready and he had missed too many. He knew he had responsibilities as a husband and father but he found it difficult to pull himself away. He always thought there was more he could do, just one more thing that needed to be done.
The strange aroma hit him as soon as he entered the apartment. Alice was in the kitchen with Freja, teaching her how to prepare a Korean meal. Everything had been changed, including his once routine home life. Usually Tshering would be preparing dinner but tonight she was using her new status as primary wife to spend time with Pema. He found them cuddled on the couch, Tshering reading to her, not some silly child’s book, but Lord of the Rings (indicating her advanced reading level - in English, French and Dzongkpa).
“Papa,” said Pema rushing to his waiting arms. He kissed her and placed her down again so he could give Tshering a kiss. A typical domestic scene, except he was now expected to walk to the kitchen and kiss Freja and Alice in turn. Freja returned his kiss with affection but Alice only did so perfunctorily, simply to assert her status as a future third wife.
He didn’t like being catered to and fussed over. He always felt a pang of guilt. He was more than capable of looking after himself and when he had the time, he sometimes commandeered the kitchen to prepare a curry or a traditional barfi. He offered to help but second and third wife shushed him out of the kitchen, so he took over reading from Tshering, relaxing with the comfort of Pema’s warm body.
He didn’t say much over dinner. He rarely did. What could he report? That the world was teetering on the edge of war? That disease and famine was spreading? That the world’s wealth was increasingly being sequestered in tax havens by the world’s elites and that corruption was entrenched and endemic? Instead he sat back delighted as the others shared their day: Pema telling him about her lessons, Tshering about the progress of the gallery, Freja of her project to ensure the future of the creative arts on Eden, and Alice of her continued work with Sauveterre in the clinic.
“We’ve been analysing the samples from the remote northern provinces,” Alice said in a matter-of-fact manner. “The practice of first cousin marriage has narrowed the genome and there are some interesting patterns. We are making good progress at mapping the Bhutanese population. It won’t be too long before we can begin therapy to eliminate specific problems.”
He nodded politely. He didn’t need the full detail.
“Oh yes, and word has just come through that the Huxley’s have hacked a Russian super-soldier program. Disappointing really, some useful mods on strength, bone density, reflexes and cardio, but still no mutants.” She smiled and looked at Freja.
“Damn, I was hoping for X-ray vision,” she said sarcastically.
He did not respond. It was an in-joke between the Crickets. He wasn’t at all surprised by the report of a super-soldier program. It was well known that the Russians, Chinese, Americans, French and British had programs – it was just that they had only ever made minor improvements, most of which the Huxleys had hacked. Genetic engineering was never going to overturn the laws of physics. It was not magic and there were no superpowers.
Dessert was a traditional Swedish rice pudding, saffranspannkaka served with wild berries and ice cream. When Freja asked what they might do after dinner, Tshering announced that as a treat she had downloaded the latest blockbuster Bollywood movie. Pema clapped her hands with delight. He was pleased. It was pure escapism and it took him back to his childhood with his sisters dragging him up to mimic the dance routines. There was nothing like the exuberance of a Bollywood musical to lift his spirits.
He began to doze during the movie. When it was finished the household bustled around him as it prepared for sleep. He tucked Pema in and read her some more Lord of the Rings. He showered to wash away the day as his wives walked in and out to clean their teeth, largely ignoring him. Alice excused herself as usual, saying she had some reading to catch up on. Finally he dropped into bed, Tshering on one side and Freja on the other. Tshering kissed him as Freja stimulated him manually. He entered Tshering, held back until she reached orgasm and then entered Freja. He ejaculated before she could orgasm but that was the point. When he withdrew he shifted to the side and Tshering reached for Freja to bring her to orgasm. On other nights they had explored different combinations and positions, but tonight he was too tired. He slipped into sleep easily as Tshering sighed with another orgasm.
He was on Eden, overlooking a long white beach. Tshering, Freja and Alice were by his side, all pregnant with his children, Pema holding his hand. There was a noise in the distance and black shapes skimming over the ocean. As they got closer he realised they were helicopters blaring Ride of the Valkyries. Suddenly he was in a movie inspired nightmare as Eden exploded into napalm fireballs. He heard Pema scream. She was running down a road naked, her back scorched by napalm.
He woke up sweating. The horrific images from popular culture still fresh in his mind. Tshering was fast asleep wrapped in Freja’s arms. He groped his way to the bathroom to wash his face and drink from the tap. In a moment of panic he rushed to Pema’s room. He sighed with relief. She was still there, curled up fast asleep. He walked over, knelt beside her bed and kissed her forehead.
68
Nuku, Prax and Biyu
Biyu looked in the mirror, opened her mouth, pressed her tongue into a spot on her upper palette and watched as her fangs descended. She pressed her upper palette again and they retracted. She pressed once more and again they descended. She turned her head to watch the light glisten off their super ceramic, bone-like surface. She left them down and closed her mouth. They were aligned so they would not pierce her lips. She opened her mouth again and ran her tongue over the surface, carefully avoiding the sharp tip. She snapped her jaws shut, imagining biting into flesh. The neurotoxin would only be released when the sensors detected the pressure caused by biting into something.
She looked at her hands and flexed her fingers. She could feel the difference, a kind of heaviness. She looked closely. They looked normal. She pressed the pad of her right thumb against the pad of her little finger. Bioelectrical switches signalled the mechanism in her pointer finger and the nail extended out ten centimetres. She drew it along the wood surface of the vanity bench and it sliced effortlessly. She did the same with her left hand. They looked just like ordinary long nails, except for their sharp edge. She pushed her fingers into the wood and regretted the decision. She had to pull hard to release the blades from the wood, ordinarily such a grip would pull a normal nail out, but these were fused to bone: they would never grow and they could never be cut.
She tried the last-minute addition by pressing the pad of her thumb on the pad of her ring finger. A small needle slid out from under the nail of her middle finger. It was connected to a small vial hidden in her wrist. By inserting a needle at just the right point she could fill the vial with any fluid (provided she went through the correct chemical process to neutralise the residues of other fluids): stimulants, painkillers, sedatives, immobilisers, fatal toxins, hallucinogens, whatever suited her task.
She spread her hands in a quick flicking motion and the protrusions retracted. She thought she might release the nano probes hidden in her sinus cavities. She resisted. They were the most difficult to get used to. By applying pressure further back on her upper palette, the biomechanism would stimulate a sneeze and release the probes. It was unsettling to see the gnat-sized machines buzzing around her, awaiting instruction via her guardian. The most uncomfortable part was waiting for them to re-enter her nostrils and burrow back into their pods. It still made her eyes water. She was about to press the pressure point when her guardian announced that Nuku and Prax were ready.
She walked from the en suite to her small room and put on her uniform. A scooter was waiting. She jumped on and accelerated down the corridor, dropping down the drone shaft in free fall, spinning the scooter mid way so that it was facing in the right direction to shoot out the subterranean corridor that lead to the hover hangar. Nuku and Prax were waiting, laughing with a mech over some joke or story. In private circumstances she would have given them an affectionate hug and kiss, but in front of the mech she was formal and efficient.
They entered the hover and it coasted out of the hangar, rose rapidly and banked sharply to the left, heading north of the capital.
“How’s Zoe?” Prax asked to break the silence.
“Good. Nervous. She says being pregnant feels weird. She swears they’ve started to kick.”
“Isn’t it too early?” asked Nuku.
“Yeah, of course. She’s imagining it. She even thinks they have a psychic connection.”
“Unless they’re connected through the void, psychic communication is not possible,” said Prax.
Nuku hit his leg. “Idiot, Biyu knows that. It’s an emotional reaction. The sooner men can become pregnant the better.”
Paradise Reclaimed Page 47
