Gaia

by Jeff Gardiner

  Gene told me that my mum wasn’t progressing too well. I wondered if it was perhaps worse than he was letting on.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dad opened the door and he looked terrible. Unshaven, bed-hair, bloodshot eyes surrounded by dark wrinkles that looked like he’d been in a fight. His lips were cracked and his cheeks were red and blistered. When I hugged him, he was bony and shaking. He didn’t seem like my dad.

  He made me a weak coffee with too much milk, which I drank in silence. I sat opposite him as he struggled to stay awake.

  ‘Go to bed, Dad. I’ll stay and look after Mum for a while. Come on – no arguments.’

  ‘Thanks, Luke. Yes, I think I need some shut-eye.’

  ‘Course you do.’ I got up and hauled him out of the low sofa, following him to his separate single room. I helped him with his trousers and jumper, then he got into bed and I waited until I heard his irregular snuffling snores.

  I gently pushed open Mum’s door and wasn’t ready for what I saw. Firstly, she was strapped to the bed – not her bed, but one clearly given to her for medical reasons. She was also attached to both a drip and a monitor. I half-expected a nurse or someone to be sitting with her, but she was alone in the semi-darkness. Should there be someone constantly observing her? Would she be better in a hospital or care home?

  I phoned Ala and Gene to find out their opinions.

  ‘Talk to her doctor, Luke,’ Ala sensibly advised.

  ‘You can afford to pay for the best doctors in the world, mate. Get the most expensive one who specialises in what she has. I’ll find someone and get back to you.’

  ‘Thanks, Gene. I appreciate it.’

  ‘You take care, mate, and look after her.’

  I did.

  I paid for the best care home and twenty-four-hour nursing. Dad put up a bit of a fuss as he had to decide whether to go with Mum or stay put. He hated having to choose and, like me, any decision was fuelled by dark feelings of guilt and failure.

  Initially he stayed put in the big house, but then changed his mind.

  ‘I feel so bloody lonely, Luke. Your mum’s been part of my life for so long now that I can’t imagine being without her. Not only that but I should be there for her. That’s what marriage is all about isn’t it? For better, for worse, and all that?’

  Like a hero, he gave up everything to be with her, alongside the many support and ancillary staff who looked after her daily. He had every other weekend off to himself, so I promised to be there for those days – as well as others when I could – so that Mum always had family there. There were no signs, though, of Mum getting any better.

  I sought solace in Ala’s company. Her sympathy and compassion was exactly what I needed. She made me smile, even when I felt weak and tired. Her beautiful face, infectious laughter and look of empathy brought me joy. She hugged me tenderly and asked the right questions, also knowing when to remain quiet, and distracting me when I became melancholy.

  I couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect than Ala.

  Her hands were so deft and graceful; her gestures grand and expressive. Each expression she made when talking added clarity to her words and gave insight into her feelings. Her hair was soft, luxurious and always fragrant. When I spoke she stared into my very soul as if divining my true essence. She dressed practically and neatly, often barefoot – sometimes even when outside in public. Her feet and toes were perfect too.

  I embraced her once again, remembering not to make the same clumsy mistake I made before. I had seen her naked and wanted to again, but just grabbing or mauling her was not the best way to impress her or to show her my true feelings.

  But she scared me. My feelings for her were a little overwhelming. The problem was I felt I needed her more than she needed me. I’d become more than a little dependent on her, but still felt she was holding me at arm’s length; never quite giving herself completely to me – for whatever reason. I know she cared for me, but she’d never quite give me enough reason or confidence to take things further. I was a coward, but being rejected by Ala was unthinkable.

  ‘I love being with you, Ala.’ I squeezed her until she let out a sigh.

  ‘You’re a lovely young man.’

  Young man? She might as well have called me a ‘boy’. It reminded me that I wasn’t good enough or old enough for her. Why did I have to be me? The trouble was I wasn’t interested in girls my own age any more.

  Undeterred, I held on to her. I knew she cared, and she was always tactile and affectionate, so perhaps I was being oversensitive. Women like Ala would look for a strong, confident man, not a soppy little boy who wimps out after the first test of his manliness. I had no experience, or anything to compare this with, but I couldn’t give up now. Not that easily.

  I went to kiss her on the lips and she kissed me properly – if quickly – and then pulled her head back with a smile. I held on to her and kissed her cheek, and then moved my lips down to her neck.

  Was this right? I’d never done this properly before, apart from the odd groupie or girl like Tia – but they didn’t count. I’d seen movies, and practised on my pillow many times, but … I’d never been with someone I really loved before.

  ‘I’m falling in love with you, Ala.’

  She continued to smile and gaze into my eyes. What did her silence mean? Was she carefully working out how to let me down gently?

  I kept quiet, in anticipation of her response. None came.

  I hugged her tightly again and then put my face in front of hers.

  ‘Now I’m scared that I’ve spoiled our friendship. That’s the last thing I want. Your friendship and closeness is the most important thing in my life at the moment. Please don’t say I’ve ruined that as well. I’m sorry if I’ve said something wrong or spoiled things.’

  I let her go and turned away from her.

  Shit!

  ‘No, Luke, you haven’t spoiled things. You’re a lovely person and I’m very flattered that you have such strong feelings for me. Millions of women out there desire you and want you, yet you love me.’ She reached out to gently stroke my face. ‘You’re a special person. Gaia chose you. I care about you, Luke. Very deeply—’

  ‘But …’ I remembered Qassoo and the profound hatred I had for him in my jealousy and anger at being rejected for someone else. However brave he had been saving us, that resentment still haunted me. He’d been my rival back in Nigeria. We had competed for Ala’s affections, but as a boy I could never compete with a handsome, strong man. I’d understood then, reluctantly, that Ala, as a woman older than me, also had needs. Did Ala love somebody else now? The thought of another man touching her, making her fulfilled and happy threatened to crush me completely. It filled me first with murderous desires and then with a sense of abject hopelessness.

  I hugged her again and she responded by holding me and rocking me to and fro. I rested my head on her shoulder and swayed with her motion, getting lost in the woozy sensuality of it. Then I lifted my head. Did she see me as some kind of baby to nurture? Perhaps I was the child she never had?

  This time when I went to kiss her lips, she dropped her head down, leaving me pouting at thin air. I placed my hands on her hips and shook her softly until she looked up into my eyes again.

  ‘I apologise if I’ve done the wrong thing. Can we go back to how it was?’

  ‘But I like it as it is.’

  Now that really confused me.

  ‘You like me holding you?’

  Ala nodded.

  ‘Can I kiss you then?’

  She took the initiative this time and our tongues met in the soft, warmth of her mouth.

  I put my right hand on her arm and slid it down towards her hip. Sensing no resistance, I moved it up her ribs and her belly – my hand over her blouse, of course. Then when I wriggled my fingers up to the lower roundness of her breasts, rubbing my fingertip against the lace of her bra. Her hand came up to slowly take it and move it away.

  ‘I’m sorry, Luke.’
>
  ‘No, it’s OK.’ But was it, though?

  I pecked her on the cheek and stepped back, wanting to show her complete respect. I could be a gentleman; I was not an animal with no control over my lusts. I could wait.

  ‘I care about you, Luke.’

  There it was again. Did ‘care about’ mean the same as love? For that is what I felt for her.

  ‘But we have other priorities right now. There is more to think about than just ourselves. We must focus on what is more important than our own personal happiness.’

  I guess she was right. Was she right? It sounded sort of right. How could I argue with it without sounding like a selfish, spoilt brat?

  ‘Of course, you’re right.’

  She put her warm hands on my cheeks. ‘I knew you’d understand. It’s what I like about you so much.’

  I walked off reeling in confusion and frustration.

  It all became a bit too much for me. Mum ill, Guy dying, Ala rejecting me, my life endangered, anarchy erupting in my name. People needed a messiah but I had failed them. I couldn’t be what they wanted me to be. I was just a stupid kid. What did I know? Without Guy’s support and knowledge I was pretty useless. I realised that Guy and Ala had been the real minds behind everything. I wasn’t even sure what I offered. I was just the front man; the spokesperson. I didn’t understand it any more. I wasn’t sure what was next. My head was just full of rocks. Nothing made any sense now.

  In fact, I didn’t feel I could do this any more. I wanted out.

  Enough. Time out. Kaput. The End.

  I decided to leave the UK, having convinced myself that staying would only cause more sadness and death. Leaving my mum was the hardest part, and I nearly changed my mind. Dad gave me his blessing and Ala understood what I was doing but tried to talk me out of it. Gene assured me he’d keep a close eye on them for me.

  My haven was in Iceland. My fortress of solitude. I couldn’t build a massive structure like Superman’s, but I did find a spacious cave near a source of food: salmon; trout; mice; and puffins. I managed to obtain a few things that would make life slightly more bearable: the minimum amount required, of course, as getting even small objects to my location proved difficult enough. I was determined never to become human again as I felt so ashamed to be a member of – or even associated with – such a monstrous species of animal. Falco peregrinus became my preferred numen.

  The only person who knew my exact whereabouts was Gene.

  Gene stayed in touch. We arranged an agreed meeting place just outside Reykjavik and he kept me up to date with what was happening in the outside world. Every time I saw a wasp I wondered if it was him.

  ‘You’re best off staying here, man,’ Gene told me one day. ‘You know what? Falcons are being shot down and captured every day. Stray cats found on the streets that haven’t been electronically tagged are being caught and taken in. If nobody claims them within a week they’re destroyed.’

  This seemed to be yet another worry to add to my despair. Riots were still going on in my name. People’s deaths were being linked to me, completely unfairly. I was the scapegoat. The devil. The one to blame for the ills of the world. Public enemy number one. Everyone loved me when I offered them salvation, but now they felt let down and needed someone to suffer for their ills and woes.

  On another occasion Gene told me about a new problem escalating around the world.

  ‘More and more people are using their shape-shifting skills for criminal acts. It’s easier to escape capture if you’re a rhino or a fly. Numens are teaming up to help each other burgle houses or to do smash-and-grab raids. It’s a simple enough thing to get into someone’s house as an insect or mouse. Our world is changing so rapidly that we can’t keep up with the way people abuse our new adaptations. Police have to change with it. Governments have to come up with new laws. It’s bloody anarchy out there.’

  I hadn’t even thought about that. I’d naively assumed that numens would bring good to the world. I’d forgotten that some people were complete bastards who would use any situation to their own advantage. Sod everyone else, eh? Why are there always some who spoil things for everyone else? Right then I was grateful to be away from it all.

  I wished I’d told Ala where I was. I’d have welcomed her wisdom and friendship. I began to fantasise about her lying naked next to me. About us marrying and having children – only marred by the nightmare of them being born as freaky dolphin-falcon hybrids.

  Being alone was a novelty at first. And once I got used to it, it became a time of soul-searching and something I can only call a ‘spiritual experience’ – even if I heard no divine voices. This made me wonder whether those heard by the great religious prophets were actually the voices of numens? I meditated, fasted, wept, slept, dreamed, and shivered with a fever.

  I saw visions of myself as water, rocks, trees and every single creature that has lived on Earth. I became clouds, soil, bones, leaves, blood, lightning, sand, fire, sap, wind, sleet, air. Nature is not something outside of us. It’s in us. We are nature. We don’t die when our bodies give up on us – we continue as molecules of creation. I understood that life is about self-consciousness. It’s about learning what you really are … not just about yourself … unless you see that ‘self’ is not you individually. ‘Self’ is a collective of everyone … everything. It’s not until you realise that the world does not spin around you, with you in the centre, that you truly begin to grasp what living really is. Being truly alive is when you can put all sense of your loneliness and insecurity into a proper perspective and be clear about your place in the natural world. Ala always taught me from her Igbo beliefs that if we could see the spark of creation – Mother Nature – in everyone, then we would learn to love our world more. That had to be right.

  Don’t just try to save the world for selfish reasons – because you don’t want to die – save the world because everything in it is sacred and connected to you. Killing the world is tantamount to killing yourself. Killing another person is wrong because you are killing part of yourself.

  In that state of self-conscious bliss that I’d reached, it seemed so bloody obvious that I couldn’t understand why everyone didn’t see it too.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The man stepped into the golden elevator. Inside he saw himself reflected infinite times in the perfectly clear mirrors that made up two opposite sides; the other two were velvet-cushioned in a Paisley pattern encrusted with diamonds.

  ‘Ground zero,’ he said in a calm, assured tone to the voice-activated computerised mechanism. He stood still, gazing at his reflection with only a faint hum indicating movement. The door opened to reveal a change in location: a lofty, panelled boardroom. He walked up to the bank of monitors that flickered endlessly on and touched the screen of the one closest to him. A larger-than-life face filled up the widescreen. An American-accented voice filled the room.

  ‘He’s ruined our South American enterprises. Destroyed the market in plastics. Now these oil catastrophes. You were supposed to be stopping him. What happened to the plan to turn people against him? How can one boy get the better of us? We need answers and results. You’ve failed to get us either.’

  ‘He’s surrounded himself with a crack team. They know what they’re doing and protect him well. He and the Gaia Foundation are almost as powerful as us with their wealth, contacts and skills-base. He may be young but he’s incredibly resourceful.’ The speaker was silver-haired and in a pinstripe suit. His voice carried a hint of disdain.

  ‘We’re running out of patience—’

  ‘I’m one of the few who know his present whereabouts.’

  ‘Keep it simple. Get rid of him.’ The tone was calm and controlled.

  ‘Understood—’

  ‘And no excuses …’ The huge white face faded into a static screen.

  Part 2

  ALA

  Chapter Nineteen

  Being in such constant demand took its toll on me. I loved my work but I needed support a
nd a break from the intensity. On my travels I often took time out to see my foster-daughter. My connection with her, emotionally and spiritually.

  My echolocation is great for things that are close by – my new sense allows me not to be dependent on my eyes as much as when I’m human. As Hoopoe, my avian hearing is an improvement, but is nothing compared to my dolphin sonar. Clicks and whistles accurately detail my surroundings even in cloudy water with no visibility.

  Because it was the night of a full moon, I swam to the Cape Verde coral reefs, sounding my clicks and whistles in the hope that they could be heard. It didn’t take long before I heard her thumps and grunt-like pulses at the expected frequency. I picked it up immediately and recognised her voice.

  Ceta.

  She came into view as a small, distant silhouette. As I waited, clicking joyfully, the shape loomed larger until she hung suspended in the water beside me. I heard laughter in her pulsing and I returned my own sense of peaceful happiness. Small for a whale, she already measured at least four metres – easily twice my length and about three times my girth. She was my beautiful baby. My adopted offspring. Being with her made me happier than anything in the world. Her company made me fulfilled and content; Ceta was my solace and my escape from the harsh realities of life. She had clung to me for a few months when I’d relinquished the outside world. I taught her what I could and now she came to see me every month. I could rely on her. She brought me love. It is all I ask in this lonely world – to love and be loved. Is it really so difficult?

  Ceta was a very interesting case, as she was a whale whose numen was that of a girl. Excepting Vriksha possibly, she was the first individual I’d got close to who wasn’t a human being first with an animal numen. Some scientists wanted to use her as a case study; many of us had been asked this. I refused to allow her to be used this way. She was not a specimen or a freak to be prodded and probed like a cadaver on a dissecting table.