by Pete Lockett
“That’s quite a story.”
“I know. It took me many years to unburden myself of it psychologically. I just thought that I was the only villain in the whole scheme of things but in reality, I was as much a victim as those that I killed. Whether you survived that war physically or not, everyone that took part was a victim, dead inside. No doubt my bones are still there, deep in the soil beneath a tranquil and hopefully life giving crop of wheat.”
“I’m sure it is a peaceful resting place. Certainly pictures I saw of those battle fields in the modern day show no evidence of the horrors that went on there. Whatever humanity can throw at it, the Earth can always repair itself,” replied Ed reassuringly.
“Yeah, I think you are right there.”
“I guess other soldiers from the war came through here, did they?”
“That one and many others. It was very interesting to meet soldiers from before my days: Roman centurions or guys from the Napoleonic wars. I’m not sure what would have been more terrifying, running into modern machine gun fire or facing psychotic ranks of sword wielding warriors. Truth is, they were all regretful and guilty about their actions when it came down to it. Time is a well trained healer though.”
“Did it take you long to understand it all?”
“I’m not sure I understand it even now. I’ve come to terms with the whole thing though and stopped blaming myself. We might not have some of our physical attributes in here, but we certainly still have our feelings, emotions and memories. I often compare some of these emotions to waves. They often get choppy and rough but they eventually settle back into a calm sea at some point.”
“That’s a good way of putting it. You’re right though. War’s damaging even for the hardiest soul. All because of pig-headed, petulant politicians who can’t resolve their differences like adults, especially when they know their mistakes will cost millions of lives. It makes me sick.”
“Me too. We were blissfully unaware though back then. We didn’t even know what we were fighting for really, other than an over-inflated idea of obligation to ‘King and Country’. I was just glad to get out of it, Ed, to be honest,” replied Donald.
“I can understand that.” replied Ed as they continued trudging through the sand.
“After all that, I’ve ended up with the gun and uniform as a souvenir. Crazy that I can’t get rid of them.”
“Yeah, that is a little odd. I am curious though, after your death how long did it take to you to learn about being a Transient?”
“Well it wasn’t until I got here. I was briefly a hedgehog that got run over by a tractor. Then I was a sparrow and got killed by an angry cat and then I ended up here. They told me about everything and I didn’t want to go back into the fray, least of all go back into the physical world. It was bad enough the first time.”
“I’m not sure I could commit to an eternity here though. Maybe it’ll change if I get exhausted of going round in circles through different transient states. On the other hand I might just give in and stay as an animal after my time expires out there. I wonder what happens then, if I do go over the time limit and die at a later point?”
“I think that takes you out of the transient cycle and you just cease to exist. None of us have ever met a Transient who has done that and ended up down here. I guess the human soul dies when we cease to be aware of it, don’t you think?”
“Possibly. But you cease to be a Transient by staying here permanently, isn’t that much the same as opting to remain an animal?”
“Not really because we remain aware of ourselves. This might be the key.”
“You might be right. Maybe there are also other options when we die in the first place. Maybe this transient cycle is not the only alternative. Maybe there is a selection process or something based on a judgement of the lives we lived. Did you ever wonder how you wound up as a Transient?”
“Yes, Ed, I did,” replied the private as they turned another corner and continued walking along the maze of tunnels, all equally covered in the dense vines.
“I don’t think there’s a selection process or that it’s to do with sin or punishment or anything like that. To be honest, there are so many people down here who’ve lived completely different lives that I can’t see anything to suggest they might be here for similar reasons. I think it’s random, just like life was. I never thought that my human life had any cause other than the lottery of who my parents were, or where and when I was born. I don’t see why I should adopt a different frame of mind regarding any ‘after life’ or ‘other lives’, Ed.”
“Good point. I’d also prefer to believe it’s random like you suggest, although the first Transient I met seemed to think there was some sort of puzzle to solve.”
“Well we all want to believe at some point that there is some god, head, or extra meaning for everything. What about it all being just as it is? That’ll do me,” said Donald as they turned into yet another tunnel.
“How do you know your way? All this looks identical,” queried Ed.
“You get to know. Anyway, we’ve been chatting away a long time. We only have a little way to go and we’ll be there.”
“Good, I’m getting a bit knackered,” replied Ed.
“Try these fucking boots, mate, then keep them on for ninety years. That’ll teach you what tired is. Unfortunately we can still get tired down here, as you’ve probably noticed.”
“Yes, I did. No hunger though, that’s something, don’t you think?”
“Certainly is. An eternity of hunger would really be hard to bear. As it is, a bit of tiredness and the occasional backache, isn’t a problem for me.”
The duo turned a final corner which opened out onto an impressively large dome-shaped hall, five times larger than St Paul’s cathedral. All around there were balconies and tiers created in double spiral configuration, two spirals both starting at the same lower point going up towards the roof in opposite directions, crisscrossing at various points for easy access to all the levels. The outside of the walkways had small walls which seemed to be made from perfect, shiny, black granite. Behind them, the inner walls were covered with the tapestry of vines, back lit and casting an evocative illuminated texture across the whole dome. All along the walls were tiny doors with black curtains, similar to the rooms from the previous tunnel experience with Thomas.
“There are about three thousand rooms here, Ed. We’re only about seventy percent full though at the moment,” stated Donald as they walked over to the edge of the walkway. Ed could see they were about halfway up the height of the dome as he looked up at the marvellous back lit vine-covered dome and down into the large, red, sandy, open area below. There were dozens of people milling around and he couldn’t help but feel he was in the biggest fancy dress party in the history of the world. Everything from sixteenth century policemen to cowboys, doctors, Chinese labourers, Baltic fishermen, pirates and Nazi guards, all happily intermingling.
“I can see why you learnt so many languages, Donald,” murmured Ed, reflecting on the multicultural timeless mix.
“Well I have had a hundred years to sort it haven’t I? You’ve got to fill the time with something. I’m on Mandarin at the moment. That’s a really hard language,” replied Donald.
“Come on, let’s go down and say hi to a few people. Then we’ll settle you down in a room for some rest and then decide what to do next.”
“Okay, that sounds good. Let’s do it,” replied Ed, as they started to wind their way down the interlinking spiral walkways like mice in a maze. Ed kept stopping to marvel at the views over the balcony every few yards.
“It’s an awesome place, Donald. I can see why you’d stay here. What did you say it was called again: Cohen dome?”
“No, Koan Dome, as in ‘ko-an’, like ‘go-aan’.”
“Oh! What does that mean then?”
“Well I never really understood it at first. Apparently it’s to do with some sort of ridiculous question which can’t be answered. After ages tryi
ng to figure it out logically, you go round in circles and get some sort of revelation, like a rubber glove slapped around your face.”
“Sounds like some sort of ‘Zen’ thing?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Zen. I spent years thinking it was ‘Hen Buddhism’ and that by figuring out how a hen became a monk I would get my rubber glove. I just misheard it.”
“That’s funny. Hen Buddhism.”
“I know. Anyway, this ‘Koan’ idea has some things in common with being caught in the cycle of transience. We try to understand it with our old values, but in actual fact, a clearer understanding comes about by being less analytical.”
“Yeah, I haven’t got to that point yet. I can see why you’d stay here though.”
“Yes, a lot of people like it. It was easy for me to make the decision. I miss very little of my previous life.”
“If you could change things, what would you do?” enquired Ed.
“What, about this place?”
“No, I mean about your old life.”
“Well I wouldn’t have fucking volunteered for a start. I think a whole lot of innocent young people didn’t need to be sacrificed so mercilessly with such meaningless actions. Walking into machine gun fire, succumbing to a gas attack, killed by a flying bolt; it was all pointless. I didn’t even know the reason for the war until some years later after I was here. When I found out, it made me downright angry. How could all those people die because some rich, posh, nobs don’t know how to resolve their differences? It is farcical,” replied Donald, as they got down to the floor level of the dome.
Ed looked up in amazement as they walked towards the centre where a large group of people was gathering.
“This’ll be nice, it’s the choral group. They sing some beautiful melodies and they sound amazing in here. Come on, let’s sit on the floor and watch them. It sounds better at a distance. Then we can go and say hi and meet a few people.”
“Sounds good. I really need to speak to someone who knows about the Viking. Can you arrange that for soon?”
“No problem. I know who to approach. We’ll listen to this, then get you a room and then go and meet her. She is a bit of an oddball, but friendly.”
“Fantastic,” replied Ed just as the choral group started to sing a delicate whispering drone with a magical voicing. Slowly the sound swelled into the enormity of the dome, spiralling upwards all around, the sound echoing from the awe-inspiring walkways above. The combination of sweet female tones bolstered by the warmth and depth of the male voices created the perfect texture for the harmonies and interwoven lines, to be most effective. Long legato passages increased in intensity, punctuated by short staccato rhythmic chords sung in unison with the uppermost precision. Donald lent over towards Ed, his rifle resting in his lap and whispered in his ear,
“Majestic and glorious, but not religious at all. We don’t do religion here.”
“I can understand that. This music is just incredible though; I’ve never heard anything like it before.”
“I doubt if anyone outside of this community ever has. This is what you get when Brahms and Bach have been living next door to one another for such a long period of time. They don’t even use notation any more. They’ve just devised a way to conduct the whole group with nods, looks and head shakes. Look, can you see them there at either side? Bach is doing all the spiky staccato stuff and Brahms is doing the smooth legato. It’s all totally improvised and will never happen again. Every rendition is completely different. They both claim that it is the highest level of composition one can reach. Instantaneous composition, conducting and perform-ance. Sadly I wasn’t good enough to be part of the choir, but man, I love listening to it,” commented Donald as he turned his attentions back to the music.
Ed looked over and saw the two plump gentlemen in similar black jackets with white silky neck handkerchiefs, one with a pronounced grey beard with white moustache, the other a little skinnier and clean shaven with a strange looking white wig. They both stood almost motionless apart from their heads which subtly jolted from side to side, occasionally looking at one another, nodding and smiling. He glanced up and around the dome as the music welled up like a stupendous and emotional tidal wave, sweeping around and around, toying with the innermost emotions and feelings.
“They’ve been here longer than me,” whispered Donald into Ed’s left ear.
“They are quite private chaps, but my goodness, that’s talent on a whole different level,” concluded the young man as the choir came down to a whisper and stopped all at once, perfectly synchronised. Ed had no idea how long they had been singing. He had been lost in time. A little bit of murmuring and chattering commenced as the majority of the group started to make their way up the spiral walkways like a bizarre mobile fancy dress party.
“Can we say hello to them? I mean Brahms and his mate?” queried Ed.
“Not now. They like it if you really have something meaningful to say. They don’t waste their time with chitchat like us. Let’s go and say hi to some of the others. You want to meet someone who knows about the Viking. I want to introduce you to Yedida. I saw her in there somewhere,” replied Donald as the two men got up and walked over towards the dispersing group.
“Why do you carry that gun around with you, Donald?” queried Ed, looking down at the scary-looking item.
“Habit really, but I always take it down to the Transient tunnel. It can help me nudge people into the net. I’ll drop it back in my room later. I don’t have it with me always. Anyway, it’s not loaded or dangerous. I don’t think about it much anymore. If I loose it then it just reappears in my room the next day. Very strange”
“Okay. I just wondered, that’s all,” replied Ed, as they walked nearer the group.
“Yedida, Yedida,” cried Donald, as he caught sight of a young lady in a white trouser suit looking the other way. She heard the cry and quickly turned around to see the two men approaching.
“Yedida, I want you to meet Ed, he’s a new Transient, just arrived today.”
“Hi, Ed, I’m Yedida, I am black, a female and Jewish, and I am fucking proud of it!” she exclaimed, slightly startling him and putting him on his back foot. An awkward silence followed, soon interrupted by Donald.
“She’s pissing with you, Ed. It’s all true, but she likes to confront people like that when she first meets them.”
“Come, I won’t bite. I’m Yedida,” exclaimed the young lady in a much gentler tone with a smirk. As she reached her arm out, Ed caught sight of an ominous looking tattooed number on her inner forearm. He knew what that meant, but pretended to not notice it as he took her hand and warmly shook it, up, down, up and away.
“Hi, Yedida, I’m Ed. Ed Trew from England.”
“Nice to meet you, Ed. Did you enjoy the music?”
“Absolutely. To be honest I’m still in a bit of a trance. It seemed to penetrate deep inside me. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”
“Yes, they’ve got it down. They know all about emotions and music. Did you close your eyes?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well next time, close your eyes. They have it so deeply developed that it generates a whole colour show internally, like a kaleidoscope of calming fireworks. It’s an outstanding journey. Apparently they compose on the spot in colours. Not sure how they do that.”
“Sorry, Ed, I forgot to tell you to close your eyes. Anyway, Yedida, Ed wants to know about the Viking.”
“The Viking eh! He knows about the Viking? Well that’s interesting,” replied the young lady as they made their way through the emptying open space and up one of the spiral inclines.
“Yes, I was in another place like this before and got to hear about him. Before I commit to staying one place or another, I want to find out as much as possible about what options I have,” replied Ed, as they reached the first landing.
“Indeed you do! Bring him over to my room later, Donny, and we can have a chat about things. You come as well and jo
in in the conversation.”
“Okay, will do. See you later then,” replied Donald as she headed off in the opposite direction.
“Donny! That’s sweet. Are you two an item?”
“Sadly, the term ‘no sex please, we’re British', really comes to roost here. ‘No sex possible, we’re Transients’, is the actual reality of things”.
“Yes, but I suppose you're settlers more than you are Transients, at least once you've decided to stay here permanently and not keep jumping back and forth?”
“That's true, although we still habitually call ourselves Transients. Anyway, back to the sex. I died a virgin, so I don’t know what I’m missing. Was it any good?”
Ed thought back to the memorable night with Abella in the car before they were married and how he had an orgasm so massive he thought his whole head was going to be shot off his shoulders like a rocket. Then he simply decided to lie.
“Not much really, Donald. You don’t need to worry about that. All hype really.”
The duo arrived at the room where Ed would be staying. He turned round and looked back over the balcony into the large domed hall.
“It’s such a wonderful atmosphere, the grand hall and the choral music. Don’t you think it’s quite spiritual?”
“To a point. I guess it depends on how you define spiritual though.”
“Maybe. It reminds me though of a church I visited on a business trip to Bologna in the nineties. It was on a bustling square and when one escaped inside into the quietude and calm it gave a real Goosebumps feeling.”
“That might have been down to the serenity of the building as much as you had been touched by the spirit of God. I would often feel a similar spirituality amidst the grandeur of nature, in a stunningly secluded but wondrous place with the birds singing and the wind gently caressing the leaves into an atmospheric symphony. In my short life I stopped associating that feeling from any ‘presence’ there might be in our conceptualised and pre defined spiritual locations and honestly put it more down to our ability to marvel at and be overwhelmed by the magnificence of nature.”
