The Boundless Sublime

by Lili Wilkinson

  ‘Ruby isn’t who you are,’ said Zosimon, leaning forward, his face suddenly intense. ‘Deep inside. Haven’t you always felt that? Like you were playing a part? Hiding your true actuality away, because you were scared of what people might think?’

  I thought everyone felt like that. I thought it was part of being human.

  ‘Set her free,’ said Zosimon, lowering his voice so I had to lean forward too. ‘Let that girl out of her cage. Leave plain old Ruby behind and let your true self shine.’

  I swallowed and nodded. What was the worst that could happen? I’d stay for a day or two, realise that it wasn’t for me and go home. But wasn’t there a chance that Zosimon was right? If I really had been hiding my true self – my extraordinary self – away … didn’t I want to get to know her? That extraordinary girl?

  ‘Ruby?’ Zosimon was watching me, carefully.

  I squared my shoulders. ‘There is no Ruby,’ I told him. ‘Not anymore.’

  He smiled and rocked back and forth in a full-body nod. ‘Come outside,’ he said. ‘It’s Daddy’s Hour.’

  The concrete courtyard was washed blue in early morning light. Everything was damp and silent, although beyond the walls of the Institute I could hear the rumble of traffic and the squealing of roller doors opening and machinery creaking into life. There were twenty or so people waiting for us, sitting cross-legged on the cold hard ground. They had their eyes closed as if they were meditating. I saw a fall of sandy hair and with a thrill realised it was Fox. Zosimon nudged me forward and indicated that I should sit at the front, between Stan and a woman I didn’t know. I hesitated, wanting to join Fox, but Zosimon was still gesturing to the ground in front of him, so I sank down, wincing at the achingly cold concrete through my thin linen trousers. Stan lifted his head, peeped at me, and gave me a friendly nudge. It was weird to see him so still – at the Red House he had always been in motion, bouncing up and down on the soles of his feet.

  At the front of the group was a raised platform – once probably a large garden planter, now covered over with wooden boards and decorated with red and purple cushions. Zosimon stepped onto the platform and settled himself down, also cross-legged, on one of the cushions. I shifted uncomfortably, the chill seeping into my bones.

  Zosimon took a deep breath, and, without opening their eyes, everyone started to sway back and forth. Left to right. I closed my eyes and swayed too, opening them a crack every now and then to check that I was still doing the right thing.

  My breathing slowed, and after a while I didn’t notice how cold and hard the ground was, or the sick aching hunger in my belly, or the dryness in my mouth. I just breathed, and swayed, and was oddly calmed.

  After a few minutes of this, Zosimon began to speak, his words washing over us like warm waves lapping at a sandy shore.

  You are a higher being.

  You are not bound by your mortality.

  You can meditate for as long as you choose.

  You feel no pain or irritation.

  You are immune to bacteria.

  You are unaffected by curses or unlucky numbers.

  Your avocations are strong and without doubt.

  You are never bitten by mosquitos.

  You can juggle seven balls at once.

  You feel no sexual desire.

  Your actuality is dry and pure.

  You are immune to brainwashing and hypnosis.

  You are better off without the things you have lost and left behind.

  An image of Anton swam into my mind. He was maybe two years old, chubby and full of smiles. He’d found my hidden stash of Easter eggs and gobbled the lot. When I’d discovered him, he was smeared in chocolate with the most delighted grin on his little face. It was impossible to be mad at him. My calmness evaporated. How could I be better off without him?

  I opened my eyes the tiniest crack to watch Zosimon as he swayed and spoke. His expression was calm, almost blank. I wondered if he recited these same words every day. If they ever changed. I wondered if he really believed it.

  ‘Awaken, my children,’ he said at last. ‘So I can tell you of my dream.’

  There was a rustling as everyone opened their eyes and adjusted their positions so they could see Zosimon, who rested his hands on his crossed knees and gazed out at us with eerie calm. I resisted the temptation to turn around and look for Fox, glancing instead at Stan, who was staring straight ahead at Zosimon, waiting.

  ‘I dreamed of a white alabaster temple, with a giant snake guarding the door. I took my knife and cut the snake’s skin from his flesh, and his flesh from his bones, and separated each bone from the other. Then I took the pieces and remade the serpent anew, and he granted me entry into the temple.’

  Zosimon paused for effect, looking around at us.

  ‘Inside, a stream of pure water glittered like sunlight. Seated in the stream was a heavy-limbed man made of lead, bound in chains. He rose and bade me to follow him, deep into the heart of the temple. We climbed seven winding staircases, each with seven hundred steps. At the very summit, we stood over a pit of boiling fire.’

  Stan swayed and nodded, as if he was imagining the stairs, the pit, the leaden man.

  ‘The man turned and tried to speak to me. But his eyes turned red, and filled with blood, which ran down his face in dark rivulets. His body convulsed and he began to vomit, casting up great chunks of meat and bone and blood, until all his flesh was gone, leaving behind a wizened little creature, white with age. This barely living thing, crying out in agony, clawed at his mortal body, and cast himself into the fiery pit. The flames blazed high and green, then died down to reveal the man’s shape, reborn. As he emerged from the flames and stood once more before me, I saw he was no longer a man of lead, or a man of flesh, but a man of pure gold.’

  Zosimon frowned and his head sank down onto his chest. His breathing became steady and slow, and I wondered if he had fallen asleep. I stole a look at Stan, but he was still staring at Zosimon, entranced. Was I missing something?

  My ankle itched, but I didn’t dare move to scratch it. We were all waiting for something. But what?

  After several excruciating minutes, Zosimon’s chin jerked back up again. For a moment he looked confused, as if he wasn’t sure where he was.

  ‘You know …’ he said, trailing off and nodding vaguely.

  My cheeks burned with embarrassment. He had fallen asleep! But nobody seemed to notice. Stan was just as mesmerised as before.

  ‘In 1918 I was working as a safety inspector at the Union Pacific Railroad in Omaha.’ I started – Zosimon’s voice had taken on a distinct American drawl. Again, nobody seemed to react.

  ‘It was my job to sign off every train as fit for service before it could leave the railyards. Every evening, a bunch of the guys from the yard would go to this little diner off the Interstate, and sometimes I’d go with them, although of course I’d never order anything. We’d sit in the third booth from the door, which had a great view of the Missouri River. And one of my buddies would always order the same thing: two cups of black coffee and a Reuben sandwich. A Reuben sandwich, if you don’t know, is served hot. It has corned beef, Swiss cheese and sauerkraut, grilled between slices of rye bread. He claimed it was the greatest sandwich in the whole world, and was always trying to get me to try one.’

  Nineteen eighteen? Was this some kind of a joke? With the accent and everything? Nobody was laughing. Maybe it was some kind of parable. A metaphor.

  ‘One day, I was weak. It had been overcast for weeks, so I hadn’t been able to recharge from the sun. My buddy offered me a bite of his sandwich, and my resolve crumbled. I took a bite. A single bite. And it almost undid me. I lay awake all night thinking about it – the crunch of the toasted bread, the hot, sour sweetness of the Russian dressing. I was consumed, betrayed by my own body, the body I had striven to keep pure for hundreds of years. The next morning at work I couldn’t clear my head – I walked in an aphotic fog, my body vacillating between aching hunger and pounding na
usea. Overnight I had become a toxicant. I felt polluted, filthy, heavy as if the blood in my veins had been replaced with molten lead. I couldn’t focus, and I couldn’t do my job. I signed off on a new passenger steam engine, bound for Tennessee. It had a mechanical fault – a simple one that I should have recognised. A few days later, that train collided head on with another train, killing one hundred and one people and injuring hundreds more. It was my fault. My weakness. That was the only time in the past seven hundred years that I allowed food or drink to pass my lips, and I pay for it every single day. The blood of those victims is on my hands. We must remain pure. We must elutriate ourselves of heaviness. We must all cast out the lead man that tethers our actuality, and become beings of pure gold.’

  I listened, confused. Wasn’t gold almost as heavy as lead?

  ‘My children,’ he said. ‘Today is an important day. A great day. Today we welcome a new sublimate into our family.’

  Zosimon turned his head towards me and smiled, holding out his hand to me as he raised to his feet.

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Join me up here.’

  ‘Great job, kiddo,’ Stan whispered.

  I stood up, my joints creaking, my bottom and thighs completely numb. I stumbled up onto the platform, and Zosimon took my hand.

  ‘This young woman …’ He trailed off, shaking his head with a smile. ‘I tell you. You’re going to love her. She’s the real deal. The whole package. She’s brave. She’s strong. She is young, but she’s already overcome so many obstacles. So many challenges. And she’s aced it all. I’m so glad she’s found us.’

  The crowd were nodding. I heard someone shout out the word yes.

  ‘You know when something happens, and you realise that you had been lacking something? That a little part of your life, a piece of your puzzle had been missing or lost. But then you have an avocation, and everything clicks into place, and whatever you thought contentment was before, now it’s entirely redefined. Entirely reshaped. You’re more whole than you ever knew you could be. You know that feeling?’

  The crowd murmured agreement.

  ‘Well, that’s how I felt when I met her.’ Zosimon put his arm around my shoulder. ‘She belongs here. With us.’

  Even though I didn’t really believe him, tears sprang to my eyes. It had been a long time since I had belonged anywhere. I saw Lib and Stan and Welling beaming at me. Maggie gave me a covert thumbs up. Even Val was smiling.

  And Fox.

  Fox was up the back, his hair in his eyes, his cheeks wet with tears, and the biggest, happiest smile I’d ever seen on his face. It took every scrap of my willpower to not leap off the platform and push through the crowd to him.

  Lib stepped up on the platform, slightly behind us. She was holding a silver goblet, which she passed to Zosimon, ducking her head in a kind of bow as she did so. Zosimon drew me gently to him, his body behind mine, his arm reaching around me so he could place his hand over my eyes. He smelled of cinnamon.

  ‘I elutriate the lead in you,’ he said, solemnly. ‘May your actuality burn bright with fire. May you shine with gold. May you banish poisons and toxins from your mind. May you float free and boundless in your true body. Your sublime body.’

  I felt the trickle of liquid on my head, as Zosimon poured the cup of water over me. It ran in rivulets down my face, splashing into my mouth and drizzling into my collar. It was the same warm, sour, eggy water that I’d drunk in the Inner Sanctum.

  ‘You are a part of this family. You are loved. You are safe. You are extraordinary.’

  Zosimon withdrew his hand and stepped away from me. I turned to look at him.

  ‘Everyone,’ he said, his face glowing with pride and pleasure. ‘I want to introduce you to my daughter – your newest sister. This is Heracleitus. Heracleitus, welcome to the Institute of the Boundless Sublime.’

  I blinked at the sound of my new name. Heracleitus. It was a bit of a mouthful.

  The crowd broke into applause, and everyone rose to their feet. People came forward and embraced me, welcoming me to the Institute. People I’d never met before, crying happy tears and telling me that they loved me. I thanked them, confused and oddly touched.

  Then they all melted away, because Fox was there, standing before me, his eyes shining. I drank in the sight of him, feeling peace spread throughout my body. This was why I was here. He gathered me into his arms and held me tight. I felt cocooned and safe, and turned my face into his chest so I could breathe him in. Fox. My Fox.

  ‘Now we can be together,’ he said. ‘I’ll never let you go.’

  A lump rose in my throat and tears started to slide down my cheeks. He was here. Solid and real and loving me. My hunger and exhaustion and uncertainty melted away. I didn’t care that people were probably staring at us. I was never going to let him out of my sight again.

  Someone cleared their throat behind us, and Fox’s embrace slackened. I turned my head to see Zosimon, smiling indulgently at us.

  ‘How lovely,’ he said, ‘to see a reunion between such good friends. I wish we could all show this much affection to our fellow human beings.’

  Fox pulled away from me. ‘Thank you, Daddy,’ he said, bowing his head. ‘Thank you for bringing Rub— for bringing Heracleitus here.’

  It was an odd thing to say, I thought. After all, it wasn’t Zosimon who had brought me to the Institute. I’d decided to come of my own accord. For Fox. If anything, Zosimon should be thanking Fox for convincing me to come. I also realised with a shock that Zosimon was the Daddy that Fox had been referring to. Zosimon was Fox’s father.

  ‘It breaks my heart to do this,’ said Zosimon with a rueful twist of his mouth. ‘But I must steal Furicius away. There is something very important he must attend to. A matter of extreme urgency.’

  Fox hesitated, looking at me, his expression torn.

  ‘Come along now, Furicius,’ said Zosimon gently. ‘I have a special task for you, and you alone.’

  Fox brushed my cheek with a finger. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he promised.

  I nodded, trying to gather as much of his face as I could into my mind, so I could savour it until the next time we were together.

  ‘Enjoy your first day with us, Heracleitus,’ said Zosimon. ‘Libavius will show you around after breakfast.’

  He took Fox gently by the arm and began to lead him away.

  ‘Zosimon?’ Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the hunger, or the excitement of being reunited with Fox, but the name felt magical on my tongue. He turned around. ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  ‘Please,’ he said, his dry face rearranging itself into a warm smile. ‘Call me Daddy.’

  9

  I followed everyone into the mess hall for breakfast. It looked as if it had once been an open-plan office space – the floor was tiled with dark grey carpet squares, and the low ceiling striped with fluorescent lights. Tables and chairs were arranged in rows. I hung back to see how it all worked, joining a queue before a servery station where a woman stood in front of a large pot with a ladle. When I reached the front of the queue, she slopped something white and gluey into a bowl and handed it to me, along with a glass of cloudy water.

  I remembered the lavish vegetable dishes at the Red House and looked around to see if there was anything else on offer, but it seemed that the porridge was all there was.

  There didn’t seem to be any particular seating arrangement, so I took my bowl and glass to one of the long trestles and sat down. A somewhat horsey girl sitting opposite me glanced up and smiled. She looked a bit older than me – nineteen, maybe twenty – with long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail.

  ‘Welcome, Heracleitus,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied, touched that she’d remembered my new name.

  ‘I’m Pippa – Agrippa,’ she said. ‘I know you’re going to be happy here. There is nowhere like this in the world. We’re so lucky.’

  I nodded politely – I would have felt more lucky with a fruit salad or a smoothie – and spoon
ed up a mouthful of porridge. Looking at it closely, I realised it was quinoa. I put the spoonful into my mouth.

  And nearly spat it out again.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Pippa.

  ‘Salty …’ I choked, trying to force the mouthful down.

  Pippa nodded. ‘It took me a few days to get used to the sodium too, when I was a sublimate. Soon you won’t notice it. Sodium is a cardinal element.’

  I took another mouthful of porridge and my mouth puckered. It was like eating pure salt. I reached for my water glass, but that was worse. The water was warm, and tasted of rotten eggs, like the glassful that Zosimon had made me drink earlier. I gagged and turned my eyes back to Pippa.

  ‘Water is full of poisons,’ she explained. ‘Even the rainwater that we drink. It has to be purified with sulphur. Sulphur is a cardinal element too.’

  ‘What’s a cardinal element?’

  Pippa scrunched up her nose. ‘Daddy will explain everything when you’re ready. Just trust him. Daddy knows best.’

  I realised with a start that everyone must call Zosimon ‘Daddy’ – which probably meant he wasn’t Fox’s father at all.

  I left my breakfast untouched, hoping there’d be something more palatable at morning tea or lunch. Pippa shook her head sympathetically and touched me gently on the arm.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’ll all make sense soon.’

  She scraped her bowl clean and beamed at me.

  After breakfast we lined up again at a different trestle where Welling was handing out pills.

  Pills? Were we being drugged?

  Maybe this was one of those cults where everyone was given LSD and told that aliens were waiting for them on another planet.

  When I got to the front of the line, Welling nodded at me.

  ‘Hey, Ruby,’ he said, and then corrected himself with a smile. ‘Heracleitus.’

  ‘What are the pills for?’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Welling, his eyes meeting mine and his expression frank. ‘We’re not drugging you. These are your vitamin supplements. They’ll speed up the elutriation process. You don’t have to take them if you don’t want to.’