The SONG of SHIVA

by Michael Caulfield

  “Restrained, sir, not hogtied. For everyone’s protection. You’ve locked yourself in this box, by the way. And there are only two exits. Accept our terms, be persuaded by the strength of our argument ― or the other way.” Pandavas didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.

  “Maybe. But you’re in here with me.” And if I get the chance, I intend to take you with me when it’s time to go, Lyköan thought as he continued straining against the straps binding him fast at neck, wrists, waist, knees and ankles. An image from the black-and-white Frankenstein or silent Metropolis flashed through his head.

  “Let’s look at this honestly, shall we?” the voice continued. “While I am still capable of coming and going as I please, your ability in that regard is, shall we say, somewhat restricted.”

  Lyköan was still so addled that little of this conversation was registering. He was reacting more than thinking. But it had become obvious who was talking – Pandavas!

  “Then why not cut me loose so we can discuss this ― man to man?”

  “Ah-hah, your sarcasm is returning. A good sign. We’ll give you a bit longer ― allow the effects of the anesthetic to clear from your system. Then, when you’re in a better frame of mind, we’ll continue our conversation.”

  Lyköan heard an electronic pop and, after a few unconnected seconds, the room went dark. He was still conscious and very, very sick. An odd odor was fouling the room, accompanied by a sour taste in his mouth. With an involuntary retch, he erupted violently spewing a thick fountain of bile into the air. Turning his head the minimal half inch the restraints permitted, he let the thick sticky fluid run down the side of his cheek and drip onto the gurney. Coughing out the remainder, he fell back into fitful semiconsciousness.

  * * *

  “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

  The voice no longer sounded like it was being broadcast through a paper towel tube. That was some improvement. Nothing else seemed to be. His mouth was dry as the Sahara, his lips cracked, and although his eyes were finally able to focus, his head was throbbing worse than the first go round. How long ago had that been?

  “I could use a little water here. How about it?” he shouted at the empty air.

  By straining his head and shifting his eyes towards the metallic click of a doorknob turning, he was able to catch sight of an unfamiliar, white-smocked lab tech entering the room, Styrofoam cup in hand. She shook half a mouthful of ice chips between his parched lips, barely enough to coat the inside of his mouth. His tongue felt twice its size and covered in flannel.

  “That’s enough,” the amplified voice boomed.

  Lyköan strained his neck muscles, rolling his eyes to the limits of his confinement. Pandavas must be orchestrating this interrogation from outside the room. He certainly wasn’t taking any chances.

  “How about letting me sit up?” Lyköan asked.

  There was no reply.

  After a brief pause, Pandavas continued. “Quite a marvel, this device of yours, Lyköan. Care to elucidate any of its mysteries?”

  Was Pandavas talking about the yíb? If he was, for the time being anyway, it would probably be best to keep the shithead guessing. It was the only secret he had ― that in truth, he really had no secrets at all, except the password.

  “Who supplied it?” Pandavas asked. “Were you sent on a specific assignment or just a fishing expedition? We thought we had performed adequate due diligence and yet here you are, up to something we never expected.”

  “What, not quite as smart as you thought, asshole?” Lyköan answered. The bravado had erupted from some hidden place, because on the inside he was still utterly terrified.

  “No need for profanity,” Pandavas replied. “There’s no reason we can’t both remain civil, even under the circumstances. I don’t consider you my enemy ― even after discovering what you’ve been up to. You shouldn’t consider me yours. Anyway, now that we have you, the advantage is ours, time is on our side. Your superiors are sure to make themselves known ― one way or another ― once you fail to report back.”

  Since there was no one to report back to, that was an impossibility. Pandavas didn’t know this, of course, but if he was expecting someone to come looking, he’d be waiting one helluva long time. Let him wait.

  “Have it your way,” the disembodied Pandavas voice echoed. “We’ve deactivated the device’s wireless protocols and isolated the hardware. If it was gathering and transmitting data ― well, it isn’t any longer.”

  Pandavas sure took him for a far more professional operative than he was. Let him keep thinking that. Minute by minute Lyköan’s head was clearing. But he’d never been a decent chess player or convincing liar and this game surely required both.

  “How come you get to ask all the questions?” he asked.

  “Yes, under the circumstances, I can see how you would have a few,” Pandavas replied.

  “What the hell am I doing here? Kidnapping is still a crime, even in England, isn’t it? If you’re not careful this is liable to completely ruin our working relationship.”

  “You can cut the protestations of innocent ignorance, Lyköan. In reviewing the Shiva Node surveillance history ― once we reversed the command sequences back to their source impulses ― why, there it was, your voice as clear and recognizable as a nightingale’s. So let’s just move along and deal with things as they are, like two men who know the score, alright? Doing so will speed things along immensely.”

  So much for playing dumb. “Okay, okay, but can you blame me for being interested in what the boss was up to? And you have to admit, it was a world-class scoop.” Might as well imply that he had passed on the information ― and oh, right this minute, was he wishing that he had. “So who’s put you up to this? Who hired you?”

  “You’ve got it all wrong, if that’s what you truly believe. This isn’t about money. Heavens no. What would a few more millions or even many billions of pounds mean to an entity like Innovac or, for that matter, me personally? Our true objective is far loftier and vastly more important ― inestimably more consequential than accumulating a few more billion in fungible assets. You may still measure fortunes in that manner, Lyköan, but I assure you, that is a pathetically poor yardstick for measuring the true value of anything. This may be a bit too philosophical for you at the moment, I realize you are still out of sorts, but please, try to give it your full attention...”

  “Do I have a choice?” Lyköan was no longer straining against the immobilizing restraints. At this point, only stealth and negotiation had the slightest chance of setting him free. “But OK, I’m willing to listen.”

  “Very well,” Pandavas began in a low, measured voice. “You must first understand that, in the grand illusory mélange, things like wealth and power may appear extremely important and desirable, but that appearance is rarely genuine truth. Let me have your opinion on something ― it’s very important I know your jumping off point ―, do you believe there is but one true reality?”

  “What?” Lyköan asked, genuinely confused by the question. “Are you talking about perception? I know you have me tied to a fucking hospital bed. I’m pretty sure that’s true, that’s real..”

  “And do you believe that that is the only place you are, the only place you can possibly be?” Pandavas asked.

  “Pretty sure, unless you decide to cut me loose.”

  “What if I were to tell you that reality is not at all that strictly bound?”

  “I’d bolt outta here in a heartbeat.”

  What was Pandavas getting at? Strapped to a hospital gurney in the middle of an empty room, conversing with an obvious madman over the intercom, that was Lyköan’s only reality at this moment . He was still alive, but that seemed to be about the only positive.

  “You already have -- bolted out of here, I mean,” Pandavas replied. “Then again, you soon will. And you have already and will also still die in this room. You have never arrived here either.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured. What the fuc
k are you talking about?”

  “At present,” Pandavas explained, “we are all, every one of us, engaged in a great and ancient piece of theater, operating not in the direction of a single future, but upon an infinitely more devious course of an equally infinite number of possible futures, just as the past contains its own infinite number of possible variations.”

  Lyköan didn’t know how or if he should respond.

  “You don’t believe me?” Pandavas asked.

  “Yeah, sure, sure...” Lyköan replied at last, even though he had no idea where Pandavas was going with this lunatic’s conversation. “There’s also the future where I expose you and your crazy apocalyptic plans. Come on, level with me, who are you working for? You’ve obviously decided to throw your hat into the ring along side of... which side was it again?”

  “The winning side,” Pandavas replied. “And ultimately, the only side.”

  “Keep your hopes up, you crazy shithead.”

  “Unnecessary. But after I’ve presented and proven our position, my fervent hope is that you will enthusiastically agree to join us.”

  “I can’t see how that’s gonna happen.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. For all you presently don’t know, there could still be something of inestimable value in all of this for you, personally. A thing you desire above all else ― that you presently believe is utterly impossible ― but even now, still lies within your grasp.”

  “Yeah? And what exactly might that be?”

  “Patience, my friend. Before we can approach that peak, there are a number of hills and valleys we must traverse first .”

  Pandavas was beginning to sound uncannily like old Sun Shi ― using a vocal meter that smacked of hypnotism.

  “Are you familiar with the Hindu concept of duty,” Pandavas asked. “The story of Arjuna at the battle of Kuruksetra?”

  “From the Bhagavad-Gītā? Yeah, I’ve read it. Why?”

  “Do you recall why Arjuna, of all the men on earth, was singled out by the great godhead to perform the culminating final act at the end of the previous age?”

  “Something about self-denial ― moving beyond his personal desires – assisting Shiva ― even though it meant the destruction of everything he held dear.”

  “Excellent,” Pandavas chortled, his breath hissing through the microphone. “Very perceptive. Have the scales begun to drop from your eyes?”

  “You’re planning on performing a similar function, is that it? Worldwide genocide sounds like it’d be right up your alley. But how does that benefit you?”

  “You make it sound so self-serving. I assure you, it isn’t. I am simply performing a duty that the universe ― the great Urgrund itself ― periodically demands. It is actually a service to this world. You, however, persisting in your ignorance, are still struggling in darkness, a result of that totally reasonable but faulty belief in a single reality.”

  “But at least I still have all my marbles. What happened to yours? Did you lose them with all that fiddling with your DNA?” Damn it! He caught his breath. Once again he’d allowed his fury to override his best interests. That last outburst had served no purpose, but it had unnecessarily revealed another detail of just how extensively he’d plumbed the Innovac databanks.

  “If that were true, my friend ― though I can show you reams of data that prove otherwise ― your own madness would not be very far off.”

  “Holy shit, Arjuna! And I thought it was just going to kill me. Anything else you’d like to let me in on?” If you bite your tongue and let him talk for a fucking minute, idiot, maybe he’ll reveal more of what you still don’t know.

  “And with that sarcasm we will conclude this period of instruction. I haven’t any more time at present to devote to the endeavor. There are other deadlines and milestones that I cannot allow to slip. Our timetable with you is already ahead of schedule. We can return to this later.”

  Lyköan heard the same pop of extinguished speakers, but this time it was not followed by the dousing of the lights. Instead, the same white-smocked lab tech who had brought the ice chips reentered the room, rolling a stainless steel cart ahead of her from which an IV bag and surgical tubing line were suspended. The most alarming items, however, both lying in clear sight on the cart’s top shelf, were a polished steel bedpan and a mean looking length of tubing with a bag attached. It looked like Pandavas intended to keep him trussed up like this for awhile. The tech, or maybe she was a bona fide nurse, came over to the bedside and began unbuckling his belt with one hand while holding the business end of the catheter in the other.

  “But darlin’, we hardly know each other,” Lyköan managed nervously.

  Any humor residing in that remark seemed lost on the young woman, who’s stony expression never wavered, not by so much as the flicker of an eyelid. It was the last quip Lyköan would make for some time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Almost the Whole L-9 Yards

  Quidquid recipitur, recipitur per modum recipientis

  Lucius Septimius Severus : Mater Castrorum

  With a turn of her index finger, Nora anxiously adjusted the earpiece. “Yes, yes, I’ll hold.” This double-bud was the smartest purchase she had made in years. Both hands free again ― she raised the umbrella over her head.

  Surveying the rain-slicked cobblestones from under its protection, she continued walking along Blue Boar Row, keeping pace with the pedestrian traffic, the sound of her heels adding a counterpoint click-clack rhythm to the water spilling from storefront eaves and gurgling out of metal downspouts. It had been raining uninterrupted since she had stepped out of Pandavas’s borrowed Bentley only minutes before. She was paranoid and afraid to call anyone from inside the car.

  Salisbury cathedral housed one of the four surviving Magna Carta originals, which was certainly a convincing destination, but she had told Pandavas that, weather permitting, she also intended to hike out of town to Old Sarum, which would give her all the time she needed. Originally an Iron Age hill fortress overlooking the new city nestled in a crook of the River Avon, the hilltop old city had been abandoned nine hundred years ago. This little trip would give her breathing room, she had contended, time to mull over the Innovac employment offer away from Cairncrest. Pandavas had been understanding, even gracious, when she explained she would be gone all day and, depending on how her adventure went, might even stay overnight in Salisbury.

  Her real motive, however, had been to contact Lyköan in Bangkok without the conversation being intercepted. It had been two days and she was desperate for an explanation. She had called the number on the Lyköan IE business card, still in her raincoat pocket from their first stumbling encounter weeks before. The dull message his answering service provided had not put her mind at ease. Inputting her callback number and executing a numerical page to track him down if he was out on business, she had headed for Salisbury’s city centre.

  She had entered the cathedral simply to get out of the rain, distractedly passing by the four noticeably bowed enormous central Purbeck marble piers supporting the highest spire in England, a spire for which the structure had never been designed, then stood and gawked at the goat-fetus parchment Magna Carta original, all the while preoccupied, periodically returning to the brief conversation she had had with Pandavas the night before.

  While the laird of Cairncrest had responded pleasantly enough when she had questioned him about Lyköan’s hasty departure, he claimed to know little of the particulars, only that Lyköan had been called back to Bangkok “on a business emergency unassociated with Innovac.” His British assignment complete, Pandavas explained, Mr. Lyköan was free to return to Thailand or wherever else he chose. “After all,” Pandavas had remarked, “Lyköan IE does have other clients.”

  True, but it was difficult to imagine any of them capable of presenting an emergency equal to the one threatening right here on the Salisbury Plain. Whatever had taken Lyköan away must have been very important indeed ― or somehow connected. Ei
ther way, she couldn’t understand why he hadn’t spoken to her before he left. It just didn’t feel right.

  When two hours had passed without a callback, she had decided to take another tack. Around noon, emerging from the Churchill Way circus underground, heading north along Castle Street uphill towards Old Sarum, her patience was finally being rewarded by a familiar voice speaking through the earpiece.

  “Yes, this is Yin Yat Chen. May I help you?”

  “Chan, it’s Nora Carmichael. I’m still in England.” Looking at her watch, realizing it was 6:38 P.M. in Thailand, she quickly added, “I’m glad I was able to catch you in the lab.”

  “Hello, Nora. Yes, still here. Extended hours. Tardieu won’t be satisfied until we can duplicate the anti-telomerase anomaly. So we’re prepared. Next time we may not be so lucky.”

  “Sounds like they’re keeping you busy, but it’s important work – and reassuring ― knowing the WHO hasn’t let down its guard. Good luck. Right now, though, I need to ask you a personal favor.”

  “Certainly, Nora. What is it?”

  “There’s something I’d like you to do for me ― as soon as you can...”

  * * *

  Eyes open, Lyköan tried to relax. After hours attempting to struggle free, he had given up. No matter how hard he wriggled, he was fixed as securely to the gurney as any fly to flypaper. Even with the artificial hydration of a winged IV needle inserted painfully into a vein on the top of his left hand, his mouth was raw ― still felt like it was full of feathers. While his tongue wasn’t as swollen as when he had first come out of the anesthetic, that was the only improvement he had noticed. Had days passed? With no reference for gauging even a single hour, he had no idea. Whatever time had passed, his earlier angry energy had long since evaporated.