Luca

by Jacob Whaler

  Then he’s gone.

  Luca opens her arms, palms up, knowing she is next. The wave of liquid death climbs above her and cascades into a transparent sphere that engulfs her like a bubble.

  Her fear falls away.

  Take me, she thinks, stretching out to the Voice, reaching for it, opening to it. Let the others live.

  From deep below the turbulence in her mind, a reply emanates from the Voice.

  At last. It is You.

  The bubble slowly collapses inward, ripples running across its outer boundary. It takes on a light green color and descends down to engulf her. She braces herself, wondering if she will feel pain before death takes her.

  The bubble makes contact with her head and face, moving down past her torso and legs, penetrating her clothes, touching her skin, a thin membrane, clinging to her body.

  There is no pain. Only warmth.

  The chaos in her mind vanishes, like smudges wiped clean from a window.

  All that remains is the vast, calm ocean of the Voice. She floats in it like a speck on an infinite sea. Then her thoughts dissolve, becoming one with the ocean.

  A three-dimensional map opens to her mind, an endless chain of spheres of blue and white orbiting stars within a boundless dark space. All of it teeming with life. All of it open to her thoughts.

  My worlds, the Voice says.

  And for the first time in Luca’s life, she is whole and complete, wanting nothing, needing nothing.

  Her mind reenters her body. She scans the crowd to see looks of horror mixed with wonder. Qaara and Jedd lie on the ground, blood flowing from the wounds in their chests.

  What about them? she asks the Voice.

  Who? comes the reply.

  She looks past Qaara and Jedd to take in the mass of gathered humanity. In her mind, she sees images of multitudes, survivors gathered in every land across the planet. All of them filled with fear.

  My people. All of them.

  The Voice moves. They do not hear. Like you.

  Luca considers her reply. It tumbles out. They could, if you changed them. Like me.

  You will show them how to listen? the Voice asks.

  Luca smiles. I will.

  Watch, comes the reply.

  All through the crowd, pods explode, spewing liquid of the same light green color that coats Luca’s body. And, like her, the liquid forms a clear membrane on their skins.

  Qaara and Jedd, clothed in the liquid, open their eyes and stand.

  Staring down at her hands, the membrane disappears into Luca’s skin, absorbed like a sponge. As it enters her body, she feels the change. Lighter. A multitude of minds effortlessly at her fingertips.

  They hear her. She hears them.

  They are one.

  80

  THE WAY

  What happened? Jedd says. We’re still alive?

  The green liquid that clung to his body is gone. The pain is gone. His fingers try to find the holes in his chest from the pulse projectiles, but they are gone, too. He turns to Qaara and takes her hand.

  She stares up at him. It’s inside us, now. Part of us.

  Her lips never move, but her voice flows through Jedd’s mind, a gentle river of sound and color. In the background, an ocean of voices move and float.

  Ricky? Jedd thinks.

  Right here. Behind you. It’s incredible.

  Jedd turns to find Ricky staring at a small flower blooming out of the mud. White petals open up out of a thin green stem. He bends to caress it.

  What is it? Jedd thinks.

  Music. Ricky’s voice is clear in Jedd’s mind. From the flowers.

  Across the field, the white plant blooms everywhere from the mud. Like Ricky, the people look down in wonder.

  What’s going on? Jedd thinks. All these sounds in my mind. What are they?

  The voices. Qaara positions Jedd so he can stare at the crowd. We can all hear the voices, now. Each other. Plants. All life. Just like Luca and her friends. Her eyes meet Jedd’s. Mercer was right. It is a new world.

  Jedd pulls Qaara closer. How can we live in a world like this?

  Isn’t it obvious? Qaara points ahead. We look to her. The first to make contact with the Cloud. The first to hear the Voice. She will show us the way. Take us where we need to go.

  Luca walks across the open space to meet them.

  81

  EPILOGUE

  Mercer opens his eyes.

  The last thing he remembers is the flying tongue of acid. The intense realization of failure. All he could do was brace himself for excruciating pain, the sensation of dissolving flesh. Nerves and muscle burning away.

  But when it came, it wasn’t like that at all. No pain. Only calm acceptance.

  And now, warmth floods his senses. Like a speck of dust in a kaleidoscope, he floats in an ocean of music and color.

  But it doesn’t last.

  A presence hangs nearby, larger than the sun. Its arms reach out, its weight dragging on him, drawing him down into the black hole of its gravitational well. He tries to pull back, to reverse direction, but the forward momentum is too strong. At the moment of impact with the entity, blinding light and an infinitude of voices explode inside his mind, pressing, ripping and clawing at his thoughts, probing his memories, crawling across the inner membrane of his consciousness. One of the voices has a familiar, yet terrifying, sound.

  In panic, Mercer recoils.

  And the monster releases its grip.

  Like a bubble suspended in water, Mercer floats in a delicate balance, poised between two worlds. On one side are the voices and color and music, prying at his mind, begging to get in. On the other side is only black emptiness.

  He chooses the emptiness.

  All sensation instantly ceases, as if sucked away into the vacuum of space.

  He is left alone and silent.

  And now, having fought off the beast that tried to destroy him, he is drifting in nothing, mind shut hard against the outside, protected in a shell, completely unconnected, in sole control of his own thoughts, safely away from the danger.

  Is this Nirvana?

  With nothing to do, time no longer matters. It requires a low level of constant effort to keep his mind shut against the outside, but at last, Mercer achieves victory. He has what he’s always wanted.

  Total control of his own world.

  *******

  The man pauses.

  In the midst of the symphony filling his thoughts, he picks out the sudden appearance of a familiar voice. One he has waited years to find. Instantly jumping closer, he reaches out for a warm embrace, the joy of contact and reunion.

  But the voice is withdrawn and silent, hiding behind an impenetrable, hard shell.

  Confused, the man opens his mind to the One Voice and asks a question.

  “My son from Earth has joined us. At last. Why doesn’t he respond?”

  The One Voice answers, as it always does, with an outpouring of warmth and wisdom.

  He wishes to be alone.

  “Why?”

  Floating in a sea of activity, the man luxuriates in a constant state of connection with other minds without number, sharing conversations and thought, discovering new ideas, analyzing, synthesizing, creating, learning, growing. If only he could share it all with his son—

  He tries again, but the voice inside the shell ignores him.

  It is his choice to be alone.

  “There must be a way to wake him, to make him understand, to let him know I’m here. To help him partake of all there is.”

  Each receives what they are willing to receive. Not all desire the joy of connection. Some reject it. It is their choice.

  The man considers the words. It is a new and novel idea, that one might willingly choose to not partake of the bounty of the many. He shares the idea with other voices in tens of thousands of conversations, but full comprehension eludes him.

  “What am I to do?”

  Wait, comes the answer.

  ***
****

  Mercer awakes as if from a coma, tired from constant strain, the effort of keeping his mind shut tight against the gentle pull of the outside. Still utterly alone.

  How long have I been here?

  No answer.

  In the silence, he wonders who he is addressing the question to. Going into his memories, he recalls the world of sound and music that accosted him shortly before entering this state of nothingness. He shudders at the thought of going back to the chaos. Memories of it die down. Yet one remains.

  In the sea of voices, one had been familiar.

  But it can’t be.

  From his childhood, he finds an image of his father, now dead for—how long? Pushing the image away, he searches for rest and emptiness.

  This time it doesn’t come.

  Curiosity slowly turns to longing. Would it be possible to take a quick look? How could it be done?

  He senses the strain that has left him exhausted. It takes effort to shut oneself up, to stay separate and alone. Little by little, Mercer relaxes the hard shell encasing his thoughts. A small hole opens. He reaches for an idea that gives birth to a simple question.

  “Father?”

  In the far distance, a point blooms in the dark. Mercer immediately senses the presence.

  The light triggers panic. Mercer flinches and pulls back. The point is extinguished, plunging Mercer back into his shell, back into nothing.

  But then, without thinking, he tries again.

  The dot returns, a deep golden sphere.

  This time, bracing himself, Mercer doesn’t pull away, forcing himself to make contact.

  “I’m afraid,” he says

  I’m here, my son.

  “Where are we?”

  It’s been so long. A complete revolution. Three and a half billion Earth years. And Earth is close once again. You’ve been alone ever since you came. It’s time, my son. Let me show you all there is.

  To his surprise, Mercer doesn’t fear his father’s voice. It no longer carries the usual judgment and criticism as in the past. Only longing and love. Still, Mercer considers jumping back to the safety of the void.

  Please. Don’t shut me out. Don’t be afraid. I’ve waited so long for you.

  For the first time since he was a child, Mercer takes a leap of faith. He decides to trust his father.

  “Here I come.”

  As the barrier drops away, Mercer is back, floating in a sea of sound and color, filled with voices. Only this time, he doesn’t flinch or back away. After so much time alone, to his astonishment, he has a swelling hunger for connection.

  “Where am I?”

  Another Voice, separate from his father, finds him. This one is larger and infinitely more complex. With me, it says, bringing him closer.

  Mercer remembers the gravitational pull of the entity so long ago. The arms reaching out. He pushes away, just a little.

  “Who are you?”

  I am all.

  Fear rises to the surface again. Mercer considers going back to where he was only seconds ago, only a thought away. It would be so easy to just—

  Be still. Listen.

  He senses movement. Searching the space around him, it’s filled with other minds, some large, some small. Some are familiar, like his father. The more he looks, the more he finds. Old friends from the past. People he barely knew. Friends he has never met.

  Wait, friends?

  He has no friends, yet all of them are there, accepting and warm. Proud of him. Happy for him. Waiting for him.

  Simultaneously moving in many directions, he gains momentum, effortlessly connecting with hundreds, thousands, and then voices without number. They all share thoughts, feelings, ideas, hiding nothing. Some were born on Earth. Most are from other planets strung out across the dark emptiness.

  But all are there with him. Like a family.

  A three-dimensional map jumps into his mind. Infinite worlds in infinite space.

  “There are so many,” Mercer says.

  The One Voice draws near and smiles. More than you can number.

  “Why is it so?”

  Explore and learn.

  He relaxes into the symphony of voices, all together, all individual, and all part of the One.

  Moving through the thoughts of others, allowing others to move through his, he discovers intense satisfaction and completeness. For the first time, nothing is hidden. All is open. All is clarity. Questions answered. New questions asked and open for exploration. It is exhilarating in a way beyond anything in his experience.

  No need to destroy. No need to compete. No need for control.

  It hits him. For a vast length of time, he has floated in the midst of incredible abundance, sealed off from it by his own choice, shut out from the music and the voices, all the ecstasy, that now fills his mind. For eons, he withdrew inside a shell filled with nothing and has missed everything. There are some things he will never know. Some things he will never understand.

  It triggers an instant of profound loss.

  He cries out to the One Voice. “Can I go back and start over?”

  There is no going back. What is lost is lost. But there is still much to learn if you stay. The choice is yours.

  “Where are we going?”

  On a long journey.

  Excitement surges through the voices in Mercer’s mind. He senses his father close and is content to move forward.

  And then he sees an image in his mind of the last person he saw so long ago before coming to this wondrous place.

  The girl. Luca.

  “What happened to her?” he asks.

  After a pause, the One Voice speaks.

  Come. See.

  THE END

  I hope you enjoyed the read! There’s much more to explore.

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  http://jacobwhaler.com

  NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON:

  THE STONES SERIES

  On the eve of a trip to Japan, Matt Newmark finds a dark rock in the shape of a claw. With the help of a Shinto priest, he discovers it’s a Stone, a piece of ancient alien technology that gives him a sweeping view of history and control over time, matter and energy.

  But Matt is not alone.

  Mikal Ryzaard has a Stone of his own and a burning vision to bring back Paradise. With all the resources of a multinational corporation behind him, he tracks down Matt and makes him an offer.

  Join me or die.

  ENJOY THE EPIC JOURNEY:

  STONES: DATA (STONES #1)

  STONES: HYPOTHESIS (STONES #2)

  STONES: EXPERIMENT (STONES #3)

  STONES: THEORY (STONES #4)

  Copyright © 2015 by Jacob Whaler

  Edited by Nancy F. Browning

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  For more information about the author and his novels, please visit http://jacobwhaler.com.

  ISBN-10: 0-9897044-8-3

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9897044-8-9

  If you’re a writer looking for a great editor, feel free to contact mine at: mailto:nancybrowning@yahoo.com

  PLEASE REVIEW THIS BOOK

  First of all, thank you for reading LUCA.

  I’m an independent author, which means I don’t have a marketing department pushing my books. Instead, I rely on you, the reader, for reviews and word-of-mouth advertising. And I have a favor to ask. Please tell a friend about this novel. Even better, tell everyone on Amazon by leaving a r
eview. Even a sentence or two is helpful.

  All you need to do is go to the Amazon page for LUCA and scroll down to where it says “Write a customer review.”

  Here’s the link:

  http://amzn.com/B016JVQCQY

  And here’s my heartfelt thanks in advance!

  Best regards,

  Jacob Whaler

  PHOTO CREDIT

  Credit: NASA / ESA / D. Jewitt (UCLA) / STScI

  ABOUT THE COVER IMAGE:

  This is a NASA Hubble Space Telescope picture of a comet-like object called P/2010 A2, which was first discovered by the LINEAR (Lincoln Near-Earth Asteroid Research program) sky survey on January 6. The object appears so unusual in ground-based telescopic images that discretionary time on Hubble was used to take a close-up look. This picture, from the January 29 observation, shows a bizarre X-pattern of filamentary structures near the point-like nucleus of the object and trailing streamers of dust.

  The inset picture shows a complex structure that suggests the object is not a comet but instead the product of a head-on collision between two asteroids traveling five times faster than a rifle bullet (5 kilometers per second). Astronomers have long thought that the asteroid belt is being ground down through collisions, but such a smashup has never before been seen.

  The filaments are made of dust and gravel, presumably recently thrown out of the 460-foot-diameter nucleus. Some of the filaments are swept back by radiation pressure from sunlight to create straight dust streaks. Embedded in the filaments are co-moving blobs of dust that likely originate from tiny unseen parent bodies. An impact origin would also be consistent with the absence of gas in spectra recorded using ground-based telescopes.