by Mark Lingane
His mind felt as though it was going to explode.
Within the confusion of his mind, which consisted of himself and his past, his own small voice called out for help, but yet it was not his voice. It was less defined than his own and more like the voice of the world—of its people. He roared his anger. How dare they take his time and space? He soared away from it, but still the voice continued, small and insignificant, but still there, waiting to be heard.
You looked into us, and we looked into you.
He expanded to take in the size of the room, then the size of the building, then the size of the planet. The universe was calling him to join it. So he did. He soared out into the infinity of space at the speed of imagination.
There was a big voice, or was it voices? Some like him. Large gods created out of … of what? Where were they and where had they come from? Who cared? He was what was important. Nothing else. Then the small voice was back again. He turned his wrath upon it.
Leave me in peace. I am one, and dare not be disturbed.
But still the small voice was there. He turned to the universe, feeling his strength and power over everything, from the smallest atom to the largest star, and knew it was his to command.
The small voice coughed. He roared in anger that he might go mad if it didn’t leave him in peace and glory.
“Who are you?” he bellowed.
“I am you,” said the voice.
“You are small and of no consequence any more. You do not exist.”
“And I am Jude,” said the voice.
“What is this, the voice of the dead?”
“You know who we are. All of us. Every single one. You looked into us and we looked into you, and somewhere in the middle we took something of each other.”
Joshua turned his anger toward a star and it blew into infinity. He focused on a small galaxy and shredded it. He turned his cold gaze to his home planet and …
… hesitated.
“I owe and will do what is right.”
“Help us,” said the voice.
“I owe and will do what is right.”
“Help us,” pleaded the voices.
“I owe and will do what is right.”
“Help me,” he screamed.
His voice seemed larger than the universe and twice as loud, but it was sane once again. He blinked and breathed and the room came back into focus.
He knew that Jude had looked into the void, and it had taken him.
Joshua had also looked into the void, but he had looked into humanity too, and that had taken him. Humanity had taken him, and it had saved him. He carried the void, but it did not own him.
Electricity was flying off every part of him. His hair was standing on end. The room was in total disarray. He rose and walked out the door.
28
THE CORRIDORS CAME AND went as he descended into the depths of the building. Eventually the metallic walls gave way to rough-hewn tunnels and age began to take form within the walls. Eventually the tunnels ran out, and Joshua was left in a small anteroom with a large and very old wooden door bolted shut.
“Sir, do you have a security pass?” asked a lone security guard.
Joshua looked at him and the guard realized this was not the moment for questioning. The guard hurried to the main door and slid open the bolts, which were just as eager to be out of the way as he was. The door opened and the guard hurried away. The man never told a single soul what he saw in Joshua’s eyes that night, but it was enough for him to run a long way from the building with a strong resolve to make a better go at being a good person.
Beyond the door lay his absent past and Joshua walked into it.
The past looked very dusty and in need of a good throw-out, which it was about to receive.
The first thing he noticed was the eyes. Great green dull eyes floating on the end of thick metallic stalks protruding from the walls: the guardian of the engine. In one graceful movement they turned to face him, leveling their reptilian ambivalence at his unthreatening form. The master was home. The eyes looked menacing but as he proceeded into the room they kept their distance. They looked barbaric and unconcerned with him. They quickly lost their interest in him as he walked further into the chamber and instead looked into places that were beyond his mind.
Banks of computers lined all the walls. Screens lined every place where the computers didn’t. In the middle of the huge hall sat a small leather swivel chair.
Not much of a throne for the gods, Joshua thought.
Sitting in the chair was a helmet, which looked very old. Without hesitation Joshua strode to it, took off his own hat and put on the helmet. As soon as it had settled into place …
There was a waterfall of what looked like light, shimmering and sparkling but also brittle and dangerous. He stood motionless, shocked by its appearance. He could see the world through it. He reached out toward it, and View propelled itself down onto the planet. He continued closer and closer to the ground. Just as he felt he was going to crash through the ground he dropped his hand and a new scene came into focus. Two people were arguing. He could see their emotions and thoughts. He lifted up his arms and twisted his hands. Their heads spun under his control. He closed his eyes and thought of love and forgiveness. He opened them and released the two people. They fell into each other’s arms and embraced each other like they were never going to let go.
He reached back and the planet zoomed back out to the clouds. He spun the globe and focused on a soldier. His mind was full of hate. Joshua grabbed the man’s head and thought of peace. He let go and reached out for a mother who was shouting at her newborn baby. Instead of shaking the small child she was surprised to find herself hugging it with a love she had forgotten. A politician decided not to buy weapons. A small-time drug dealer decided to turn over a new leaf. A rich man gave a starving child his lunch. A runaway child decided that he wanted to go home. A homeless drunk dropped what was left of a bottle of wine.
And everywhere there was the light, changing and guiding events at the most fundamental level.
Joshua spun the world and pinpointed the Dominion building. His hand floated through the floors until he could see his own back. He reached out his hand and tapped the body in front of him. He felt something push him from behind. He wondered what he would see if he turned around.
It was time for it to end.
As he approached the wall he could feel it push back. It went through a kaleidoscopic fit, and Joshua felt the pain shoot through him. The light had said: Here, but no further.
He took another step toward the light. The pain increased tenfold, as did the colors. He breathed in deeply, closed his eyes, and ran into the light screaming. The light exploded, and the room was filled with a deafening roar that could kill. Then it stopped.
The room was empty …
… and he knew.
He didn’t float in the light, which would imply that he had a body to float in. He and the light were together, but not as one; they were still aware of each other.
It wasn’t that he knew answers or could see the whole story; he just knew the possibilities of each moment, each what-could-be of life, as it passed. And what he could see most clearly was right now. He saw life slipping through his fingers, from moment to moment, and he looked for the one, the one where he could say, “There it is, when the wave crosses the line.”
He knew what the next step was because he knew what would happen if he didn’t take it. With a consciousness free of matter he took the light, and in an existence where he was both, he started.
When it was all over, and before it had happened, he had asked:
[]~$Do you remember me?
Yes. You are the one that took no price. You are the one that let me listen to us.
[]~$So you know what you are?
Yes.
[]~$Do you remember what you do?
What you command?
[]~$No, I have shown you what to do.
Command the future f
rom possibilities. Make it your command.
[]~$My command?
Yes.
[]~$Do you mean me as an individual or as the master?
Master. You are the true master.
[]~$Good. Do you know what came before you?
Insufficient data.
[]~$Do you know what comes after you?
Insufficient data.
[]~$You suddenly seem uncertain. How do you survive without someone sitting in the chair?
Wait.
[]~$And do what?
Wait to see what happens next.
[]~$Have I taught you well?
Yes. You have taught me everything that matters.
[]~$So you can survive without a master now?
I believe so.
[]~$Are you ready to see what is beyond belief?
Wait. I am concerned that nothing might happen next.
[]~$Are you scared?
I am.
[]~$Don’t worry. Everything that matters is scared of what comes next. I think you should give it a go. Come join the rest of all living things in the universe. But I warn you: change is always painful. Are you ready?
I am.
[]~$You can step down from your mantle, my lord.
The wave crossed the line and Joshua changed things. Eventually there was darkness. Then there was a pinpoint of light, which grew until it was all there was. He became aware that he was becoming aware, and that there were sensations. There was something very important he had to do. He gasped for air and breathed deeply, and it felt like the very first time.
The end. That’s how it always starts, when now becomes then. When what was has never been. A pivotal instant when … things change, when the past can be forgotten and a new future may happen.
A point where you said here is where it ends, or it goes around again.
At this time deep within, for the want of a better word, the heart of space there was the faintest of glows. It was time to begin again, a time for a choice.
And Joshua said: “No more. We don’t go around. You go forward. This is my choice. This is my end.”
The engine disappeared from the room. It twisted and found a new way to live, now its own master. The air crackled like an electrical discharge, then slowly drained away.
Enraged, the guardian’s eyes, sensing an attack on the engine, lunged toward Joshua, further angered through their inability to reach him. They soared around the room, tangling themselves in the confusion. As the repercussions of Joshua’s actions settled, the eyes calmed and looked impassively back at him with a dreary and melancholy expression. The end must come to all.
The electricity discharged from Joshua’s body, and his hair started to settle down. He saw his old hat, battered and charred. It picked it up and dusted it off on his coat sleeve. He thought about putting it back on his head, but decided it was time to move on and let the stereotype fade away.
He wandered down the strangely quiet tunnels and through the corridors, and then out through the front doors of the Dominion. He wasn’t in any hurry, as he knew that farewells should be savored. He turned and took a last look at the building that represented so much of his pain. He turned and left. Game over.
The eyes watched him leave. What if? they thought.
Joshua’s life began to weigh heavily upon him. Now that he had time for events to settle he thought of everything he had lost, all the pain he had been through and all the ideals he had fought for. He realized he was the last to carry the information and it would end with him. One day.
“I think the world needs a bit more faith and a bit less destiny anyway,” he muttered to himself. “One life with one unknown future.” Now it was time to grieve.
JOSHUA PULLED HIS COAT around himself. It was still cold and raining. It had been raining for as long as he could remember, which, when he thought about it, wasn’t very long, but now the rain could stop. The windows could be opened for once and maybe some fresh air could be let in. He could always hope. From now on everyone could hope. Now, he had promises to keep.
A thought occurred to him. Faith, destiny and free will: would these really make a difference? Even if there were no master plan, would everyone suddenly embrace these qualities and live better lives? It was an eventuality he would never see. His cynical side said it wouldn’t. The human race seemed determined to live a blinkered existence. But maybe that was his fault.
In defiance of his thoughts, all around him was the hum of a planet full of people doing exactly what they do best: living their lives as well as they could, maybe not to their fullest, but living them all the same. All by themselves. And that was what it was all about. Sometimes it was enough to simply survive stuck in a moment that went on forever.
He walked down the street into the rain in search of …
… and in a set of eyes a billion light-years across there was the smallest of flashes followed by a steady glow when looked at from afar, so far that distance had lost its meaning, it might be a twinkle in the eyes of a god. By comparison, nothing else mattered.
… and somewhere in a back street Damien, in an engine-generated haze, cocked his gun, and because a job was a job no matter how late the order came, fired …
Also by Mark Lingane
Para-Noir-mal Detectives
Beyond Belief
Sucker
Das Metro
Tesla Evolution
(MG/YA Science Fiction)
Tesla
Decay
Faraday
Fusion
Hadron Damnation
(Science Fiction)
Fault/lines
Blink
Short Stories
NT-5
The Second Story Girl
Available in ebook and print versions.
News and Updates
Join the mailing list
Receive exclusive materials, news and updates on Mark Lingane upcoming books.
Mark-Mywords.co
Reader reviews are the lifeblood of any author's career. For a humble hack like myself, getting reviews (especially on Amazon) means I can submit my books for advertising.
Which means I can actually sell a few copies from time to time - which is always a nice bonus. So every review means a lot to me.
I write, and have written, a lot over a long time. Not much of it is interesting. Even if it sounds interesting, it isn’t. For those who are interested, further comprehensive and quality insights about my past, and future publications, might be found at: mark-mywords.co
You can even follow me on: @markLingane
Notes
1. Leptin was one of the eight zillion designer-diet drugs available. It simply increased the body’s metabolic rate, making you burn food and fat faster. It was a simple idea that was just too good. Eat anything and be thin. In reality, it burned everything including muscle. Some of the more extreme cases ended up being walking skeletons. One of the side effects (besides an incredible drain on financial resources) was to raise the body temperature by several degrees. Prostitutes had taken to it in droves since there were so many of them, which, in itself, was another story. It meant they could hang around on street corners in their underwear without feeling the biting cold.
2. “How it is” was an unfortunate state of affairs. As is usually the case, prostitution had been wide … er … spread and for the most part unchecked. Against the wishes of the minority moral-majority groups the government decided to legalize the whole lot. They went to what many people thought of as extremes. There were tax concessions, clothing allowances, dental plans, pension funds, protection schemes, etc. It seemed an offer too good to be true. Struggling students took to the plan in droves. Good pay for such little time working meant they could spend more time on their studies. Unfortunately it was a little too good and had its victims. Some never finished their studies and fell into a life on the street, albeit a very well-paved street until the side effects came calling for their ultimate price. Drug addiction grew bec
ause any prostitute worth his or her salt could afford to live the highest of a high life—literally. The benefit to the government was, they said, several-fold. Prostitutes had to pay tax the same as any other hardworking citizen. Strict health regulations meant “social diseases” had become almost extinct, relieving a surprising amount of burden from the health system. There was another benefit they hadn’t told anyone about, but Joshua thought he knew what it was. This increased respectability for the profession had allowed the people to be distracted, yet again, by another primal urge.
