Paradise Reclaimed

by Raymond Harris

  Next they passed over the lands of SE Asia, mostly obscured by cloud, with just small glimpses of green and blue over Java and the Malay Peninsula. This area had suffered considerable depopulation as the rice crop collapsed due to wild oscillations in the weather. It was now a collection of small, warring kingdoms hugging protected valleys.

  As they entered the troposphere the subcontinent of India passed below them. This land had suffered savage droughts and intense monsoons. The collapse of agriculture had caused extensive famines and plagues. It too had reverted to a feudal stage, returning to the era of regional rajas mostly based in the fertile south and west, the northeast regions of Rajasthan and the Punjab largely turned to desert and abandoned.

  Finally the distinct geological formation of the Himalayas came into view, the peaks of the mountains covered in snow. It was spring and the skies were free of cloud. As Nuku watched closely the thing that struck her the most was how green the valleys looked. From this height the many colours of Eden would have been clearly visible, patches of purple, yellow, orange, blue, red and yes, even green. But Earth’s surface consisted mainly of shades of brown, grey and green. As they descended, more detail came into view: small settlements hugging a network of valleys, each with a river or stream. This region had managed to avoid some of the more dramatic effects of warming, the warmer summers even helping to increase food production.

  Saphira levelled out as they descended into a region that had once been a part of northern India but now formed part of the Buddhist Republic. The fact that they were descending in clear view indicated that some form of flight was common in this region. They were low enough to make out roads now, with the occasional moving object, some slow, suggesting animal drawn carts, and others moving fast, most likely electric (Bhutan had moved toward electric vehicles in the early part of the twenty-first century). This could only mean the Buddhist Republic had maintained a reasonably sophisticated industrial base.

  The buildings were becoming clearer and even the shapes of people going about their business. They were below the mountaintops as they flew up a narrow valley dotted with farms. As they banked around a bend a magnificent monastery came into view: high white walls, ornate woodwork balconies and windows, red tile roofs and strands of colourful flags fluttering in the wind.

  They were rendered speechless as Saphira settled on a broad grassy bank next to a fast flowing river. They were finally on Earth.

  They dressed in a designated area at the back. Biyu had never worn so many clothes; a purple long sleeved shirt, trousers with a crotch, socks, shoes, her dress curaiss. It was as if she were hiking in the mountains. It seemed impossible to think she would have to dress like this the entire time she was on Earth. She still found it difficult to understand that Terrans found the naked body shameful - the body nature had designed.

  The door hissed open and a cool breeze rushed into the cabin. Prax was first out, dressed in his ambassador’s toga, followed by Nuku in her chiton and a matching shawl set at a stable colour of turquoise, followed by Biyu. She squinted in the harsh white light of the sun, so different from the golden glow of Eden’s star. A lone child dressed in the maroon habit of a Buddhist acolyte, its head shaved bald, was waiting patiently, seemingly unconcerned by their appearance.

  “Welcome, I’m Choejor, the Kumari’s assistant,” said the child in practiced Edenoi. The timbre of the child’s voice suggested she was female, a young nun.

  Prax towered over the girl by at least forty centimetres. He smiled warmly, extended his hand and said, “Thank you Choejor. I’m Ambassador Praxiteles Smith, allow me to introduce magnus Zhang Biyu and science officer Papatuanuku Teixeira.”

  Nuku looked around at the hills and sniffed the cool, pine-scented air. It was so intensely green. She looked down at her feet, Earth grass interspersed with clover, green as well. She wanted to pick some and rub it between her fingers. It was a silly thought but she wondered if she would have a deep, genetic memory of Earth’s flora, of familiar scents, tastes and textures.

  Prax also looked around. He had expected a larger welcoming party. “Kumari?” He asked as the girl turned to lead them to the monastery. “You referred to her as Kumari?”

  “Yes,” she replied as she led them across the field. “Her Holiness, the Kumari, reincarnation of Yeshe Tsogyal, a fully realised Terton… Kumari means virgin, because of her age. An honorific. Her Holiness will explain.”

  They walked silently across the field. Nuku wanted to jump to test the lighter gravity. She could hardly believe it. She was on Earth; the place where humans had evolved - home - yet everything was so alien. She looked ahead at the monastery, in awe that she was looking at a building that was older than Eden.

  “When was this monastery built?” she asked.

  “1523, although it has been renovated several times. There was a fire started by rebels during the Reversal.”

  Nuku stood in her tracks. “But that would make it over eight hundred years old. Is it the oldest?”

  The girl turned. “No. You must understand that Bhutan has been an independent nation for over three thousand years, perhaps much longer. It will remain independent for many more.”

  “The Reversal?” Prax asked.

  The girl seemed surprised by the question. “Yes, the reign of the Gyaltsen dynasty, they overthrew the Wangchuk. I am sure Kumari will answer all your questions.”

  When they reached the monastery its age became apparent: weathered timber, some rotten and breaking away, cracks in the render, mould and damp, loose and creaking steps. When they rounded a corner they caught sight of a group of young monks walking through a stone courtyard dressed in maroon robes, their heads shaved, both boys and girls (as far as they could tell). Nuku thought they might as well have travelled back in time to Earth’s medieval period.

  “The Kumari will meet you in her private chambers,” said the girl as she led them up a dark stairway smelling of dust and incense. They arrived at an ancient, wooden door. The girl turned a rusty, iron latch. The door was heavy so the girl put her shoulder to it to heave it open and it made a loud creaking sound, which startled them because Edenoi doors were silent. They entered a room lit by large, dirty windows on one side and oil lamps in the darker corners. The walls were decorated with thankgas depicting a number of female deities, the floor covered in multiple, intricately woven carpets, some looking worn and tattered.

  “It must all seem very strange,” said Choejor as she directed them to an antique divan and armchairs. “The Kumari has told me so much about Eden. I hope that one day I will visit.”

  Nuku’s attention was caught by a vase of bright pink flowers. She leant forward to smell their perfume.

  “The fist peonies of spring, Tshentso’s favourites. They are native to the Himalayas.” They watched as Choejor poured the tea at a side table.

  “If I am not being rude,” said Prax. “Might I assume that Tshentso picked you herself?”

  “Yes,” said the girl as she carried over a tray of delicate porcelain cups and a plate of biscuits. “Jasmine tea, Tshentso’s favourite, again native to the region.” She passed the cups around. The fragrance and flavours were completely unfamiliar.

  “And how many languages do you speak?”

  The girl smiled, guessing the reason for his question. “If you wish to ask if I am enhanced, then you are correct, I speak three languages and three dialects.”

  “This is unexpected,” said Nuku.

  The girl seemed surprised by her reaction. “I’m sure the Kumari will explain.”

  They were interrupted with the creaking of a door. They turned to see a dark skinned girl no older than Choejor enter the room. “Prax old friend. Come, give me a hug.”

  The girl seemed to glow with an inner light. She was dressed in a vivid yellow and gold silk brocade kera and toega, her neck decorated with a gold necklace with beads made from some dark seed (the sacred rudraksha, as they would later discover). Prax’s eyes lit up and he went to her im
mediately. She let him pick her up to embrace her and she laughed. He let her down and she motioned for Nuku and Biyu to come and embrace her too. When she looked at, or rather, into Nuku’s eyes, Nuku felt inexplicable tears begin to swell and she hesitated, overcome by emotion. She had never seen such a look of deep compassion and understanding. It was if everything she had ever thought or known was laid bare. Biyu also seemed frozen in her place, similarly transfixed by Tshentso’s gaze.

  Tshentso understood their reactions and walked gently toward them, her arms open, her eyes penetrating their defences. They were helpless before her. Her charisma was overwhelming, her embrace warm and welcoming.

  “So, how do we address you?” asked Prax.

  Tshentso laughed at his question as she sat down cross-legged on a small, cushioned platform. “As the protocols of the moment dictate. I have every confidence you will catch on. But the real intent of your question is to uncover the mask I wear. I will not bore you with excessive details. You will find screens linked to a database in your rooms and Choejor will answer any questions you might have. I will satisfy your immediate curiosity by saying that my family maintained the traditions of my matrilineal ancestor, Tshering. I was fascinated by the mythology of my ancestors and absorbed all I could. I learnt the language, memorised the texts, studied the philosophy and integrated the esoteric symbolism. When I arrived here in Bhutan my intimate knowledge of the tradition immediately impressed important people. I was tested according to tradition and passed. Many people in Bhutan still hold onto the mythic interpretation of their tradition. I was declared a reincarnation of Yeshe Tsogyal, the consort of Padmasambhava, herself a recognised Buddha. And because my family had maintained a secret oral tradition, I was also regarded as a Terton, the keeper of the terma, the doctrines hidden by Padmasambhava and Yeshe to be uncovered in future eras. As a Terton I am engaged in creating a reformation of sorts: the political and doctrinal unification of the diverse schools of Buddhism. If I succeed, the region will undergo a renaissance, all of which will aid the larger plan. We are lucky that this tradition is open to periods of reform; some of this planet’s other religions and traditions are far more rigid.”

  “And you plan to spread this renaissance to the rest of Earth?” Parx asked.

  Tshentso smiled and nodded. “It provides a most suitable vehicle. We Edenoi could not have come to Earth unmasked. It would have caused too much cultural shock. Fortunately Tibetan Buddhism allows for the possibility of child Buddhas and bodhisattvas. Its myths and legends provide an excellent cover for our advanced technology. But let me now be blunt. Such a plan will naturally meet violent obstacles and that is why I have asked that you rest here before travelling to the NS. You will need a period of adjustment to overcome your own cultural shock. I did not think it wise to send you to the NS unprepared.”

  “You have already experienced violent resistance?” asked Biyu.

  Nuku looked over to Biyu, confused and concerned by the question.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Tshentso. “Nuku, your expression betrays an ethical concern?”

  “I thought our mission was purely diplomatic?” asked Nuku nervously, knowing that Tshentso must have fully considered every side of the issue.

  “And what are the tools of diplomacy?” asked Tshentso in a manner that suggested it was a basic question that needn’t have been asked.

  “Fear and bribery,” said Biyu without hesitation.

  “In its crude essence, yes… Oh, one might vary the terminology to suit the developmental level of the intended audience, but you can figure that out for yourselves. In this case we are dealing with barbarians as the Romans defined them, specifically the Pashtun tribes from the west, from the Sarabani Caliphate. They rule an area that once covered Afghanistan and northern Pakistan. It is now spring, which means that they will recommence their raids.”

  “Raids?” asked Prax.

  Tshentso smiled in a way that demanded he try and keep up.

  “They are slavers and looters, brutal rapists and cruel murderers. Their lands can barely sustain any reliable form of agriculture so they survive by looting and slavery. They prey on small communities to the north, south, east and west, including communities loyal to us. If we are to gain the confidence and support of the people we must be able to guarantee their security. They can hardly be expected to assist us if they are distracted by threats to their wellbeing. I intend this spring to be the raider’s last.”

  “Obviously you also intend this action to be decisive,” said Biyu.

  “And absolute. The Republic has sent its army before. They suffered defeats and casualties. This time I do not want to lose a single soul.”

  “Clearly an opening move in a much larger stratagem,” mused Prax, mostly to himself.

  “As you have no doubt long suspected my friend, but this is a game of multiple players, not all of whom have revealed themselves.”

  “And the coup in the NS?”

  “Ah yes, their representative is on his way from the capital, Lhasa. It will take him a few days, but rest assured, you will see him as soon as I do. Now I think that is enough for you to digest now. I will allow you to collect your thoughts so that you might ask more precise questions next time. I have asked Choejor to assist you. You need hide nothing from her. She will not be shocked. You may also ask her anything and she will do her best to answer. She will show you to your rooms. I suggest you rest and allow your systems to adjust, biologically and psychologically.”

  She smiled politely. The meeting was over.

  87

  Akash

  Tshering walked across to the bedroom window and drew open the curtains. The sunlight rushed in. “Come on you two. The girls will be awake soon and you know Pema, she’ll come running in. It won’t worry her but Nour might get a bit of a surprise.”

  “Are you trying to distract him from his task?” asked Sigyel. She was on top of him, her eyes closed, entering the first stages of orgasm.

  “I’m surprised he has anything left sister, after last night.”

  “It’s been months. You know those Indian boys are hopeless. They can’t decide if women are their mothers or whores.” She picked up the pace of her rhythm and began to stimulate her clitoris. Her breathing began to deepen.

  Akash was trying to focus but his mind was already thinking of what lay ahead. He enjoyed making love to Sigyel. She didn’t take it too seriously. But Tshering was right. He had no more to give.

  Sigyel shuddered with an orgasm, took a deep breath and looked down at him. “Nothing brother-in-law?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Never mind. I can use your samples from the clinic. This was just for fun anyway.”

  “Look what you’ve done to my husband sister,” said Tshering as she sat on the bed to give him a kiss.

  “Oh, we forgot,” said Sigyel as she lifted herself off slowly. “Tshering was going to ask the boys, but would you mind if we borrowed some of their samples? We have some nice Bhutanese girls in mind. I mean, they can meet and fuck them if they would rather. I’m sure the girls would like that, they’re such handsome European boys, but aren’t they going soon?”

  He sighed. Sigyel was relentless. “How many girls?”

  “Six, cousins and friends, from the east. All lively and bright.”

  “Speak to Alice. She’ll organise it.”

  He started to get up and groaned with the effort. He was getting old. “I need a coffee.” He staggered to the bathroom, his erection refusing to subside. He needed to piss and it would be difficult. Men dreamed of having a harem. They had no idea. He turned on the water and stepped in. Perhaps if he turned it to cold? He shuddered at the thought. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. His peace was shattered when Pema let herself in to use the toilet, Nour following her like her shadow.

  “Ha ha, papa’s got a stiffy,” exclaimed Pema as she sat on the toilet. Nour turned and studied him with innocent curiosity. He shook his he
ad, he was surrounded by merciless women.

  Thing is, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

  His mood shifted as soon as he read Aviva’s latest report. There had been a dramatic shift in the stalemate between the Canadians and the Texans. The Canadian Prime Minister had just upped the ante by closing the Yukon Pipeline, claiming that the US government had failed to meet payments. It had been a tactic used by the Russians to subdue their client states. It was a dangerous move, one the Canadians would only make if they thought they could win.

  “This will humiliate the Texans. They’ve been blowing a lot of hot air about American superiority, fanning patriotic flames. He’s calling their bluff. He must be pretty sure he has the rebel governors on side.”

  “The situation is untenable,” Akash sighed. “The stalemate is hurting trade, the stock market, hurting their corporate allies, on both sides. What do you think happens next?”

  “I expect the American government to threaten war. They’ve been softening the American public, accusing the Canadians of undermining American values, of being closet socialists, feeding the usual anti-Canadian suspicions. Of course, that’s what the Canadians want. They will gain if the US enters another civil war. There are many in the more liberal states who are heartily sick of the Old South, the confederate bullshit, the Bible bashing fundamentalists, the Tea Party rednecks, the old money. It has effectively been two countries for decades. There really is no Union.”