The Sacred Era: A Novel (Parallel Futures)

by Aramaki Yoshio

  “Do you wish to suckle my breast too?” she asks him.

  “Mmm,” K almost says, before immediately catching himself. “Oh, no, sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  K lowers his gaze to hide his flushed face. He can hear the thumping of his heart inside his chest.

  Had she caught him staring at her body? K has never seen a naked woman’s body in the flesh. But he imagines it. He fantasizes about it. K chants the name of The Holy Igitur under his breath. He must repent for his crimes. He must wash away his sins.

  The city’s odd odors, the smell of animals in heat, mixes with the sweat trickling down K’s brow, washing over his body.

  3

  The next morning finally dawns. Now it is time for K to head to City Hall to take the Sacred Service Examination. But the past day has wiped away much of the confidence he possessed when he first arrived in Igitur. Far more people than he had expected—over a thousand candidates from all over the realms of the Holy Empire—gather at City Hall. The sheer numbers of applicants milling about turn the air inside City Hall stale as the guards take their time with inspecting every detail of every single candidate’s paperwork. One by one, names and fingerprints are taken and matched to records in the database.

  Finally, K enters a cavernous lecture hall with a domed ceiling so high that to gaze up at it feels like peering into heaven itself. Painted on the surface of the ceiling is a fresco depicting the life of The Holy Igitur. Sunlight streams through the windows from an inner courtyard where a row of arches marks a path leading toward the grand lecture hall. A seat with K’s name on it awaits him in the center of the hall.

  Unable to sit still, K looks around the room. Everyone has an air of confidence. The candidates come from all ages and all walks of life, but as far as he can tell, no one else in the room is as young as he. Next to K sits a man as old as his grandfather. Did he wander into the wrong hall? Eavesdropping on his conversation with another candidate quickly makes it clear to K that, like many of the other candidates, this is not the first time he is taking the Sacred Service Examination. These veterans of the examination compare notes with one another, discussing the questions they encountered in their previous attempts to pass the exam in the hope of anticipating what awaits them this time around.

  Formal examinations for Sacred Service are held only once every four years, and many of the candidates here must have spent much of their adult lives preparing for this exam. Among them are professors of state schools and private educational institutes, all of whom are clad in their impressive academic gowns. The young men seated in the front row look like students from the Holy Igitur University, the most prestigious school here in the capital. They wear their confident faces like badges and converse among themselves in the refined language of the educated, using jargon far beyond K’s comprehension. Is it any surprise that K finds all this thoroughly overwhelming?

  This can’t be right. I shouldn’t even be here at all! There’s no way I could have qualified for this exam.

  Oddly this thought calms K’s nerves.

  The dark iron doors at the front of the hall swing open, and all talk is immediately silenced. The examiners in their clerical uniforms enter the hall, an assistant behind each one of them carrying a stack of examination booklets in their hands. They form a line on the stage and bow in unison. Once the candidates return the bow, they begin passing out the exams.

  K holds his copy, its thick blue cover reflecting the sunlight streaming in from the courtyard. His heart races, and beads of sweat form inside the clenched fists he hides under the desk. Silence reigns as they pass out all of the exam booklets. Until the sharp ringing sound of a bell breaks the silence. It is the city’s bell tower signaling the start of the examination.

  K lifts his pencil from the desk. With one deep breath, he opens the booklet’s blue cover.

  Question I: Produce an affirmative critique of the Trinitarian theories of the heretic Darko Dachilko, which contradict the Quadritarian theories of The Holy Igitur.

  Question II: Discuss the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the Twilight Civilization in terms of the teachings of Book 56 of the Southern Scriptures.

  Question III: Discuss how the origins of the Sacred Era explain the construction and destruction of the world.

  A wave of gasps sweeps across the hall. Evidently, this year’s questions go far beyond what the candidates in the room are expecting to see.

  “Silence!” shout examiners on the stage to quiet the commotion.

  K does not say a word. Instead, he picks up his pencil and begins writing.

  The first-day examination proceeds until the evening throughout a day of suffocating heat. Few candidates remain in the hall when K completes his answers and hands his booklet to the examiners. Every joint in every part of his body is sore and aching from sitting continuously all day. At least he still stands. Some applicants had to be carried out on stretchers after passing out during the exam, which surely would have happened to K, with all his hunger and anxiety, if it had not been for what had happened under the banyan tree that morning.

  K’s face turns red as he remembers. In that moment of darkness before sunrise, the beggar woman offered the poor famished K her milk. Still half-asleep and lost in the middle of some dream, K inched his body closer to her and began suckling on her soft breast, drinking the milk warmed inside her body.

  “Do you like that?”

  Her words were gentle, motherly.

  “Yes,” K whispered.

  “Then drink as much as you want.”

  For the first time in his life, K drank mother’s milk. He had never known his real mother. Tears rolled down his cheeks as his mind searched for a past that did not exist.

  My hands . . . caressing this woman’s skin! I’ve passed into sin! The commandments forbid me!

  As much as a part of K might have wished to put a stop to his sinful acts, he could not muster the willpower to release his mouth from the soft flesh of the woman’s breast.

  The woman’s vague smile greets K when he returns to the banyan tree after the first day of the examination.

  “Things go well at the exam?”

  K nods without saying a word. He places himself on the spot next to the woman and turns his eyes toward the already darkened streets beyond.

  “I’ll have more milk for you tomorrow morning.”

  K wraps his arms around his knees, offering only another silent nod in response.

  Such a strange power in this milk! One sip was all it took to calm my stomach all day.

  K goes over the questions from the day’s exam once more. It seems like these particular questions have never before appeared in any of the previous years’ exams. It was certainly odd that almost a third of the candidates stood from their seats and quickly left the hall as soon as it began. He’s positive that it was the candidates who had taken the Sacred Examination before who left early too.

  K will never forget the quivering voices of the other candidates as they received the exam booklets.

  “Why is there a question about that heretic Darko Dachilko?”

  “Is this a trick question? Is it?”

  Right from the very first question, the name of the most enigmatic man from the whole history of the Holy Empire of Igitur appeared before them. To make things worse, the question’s instruction “to produce an affirmative critique” makes no sense whatsoever. After all, to take the question at face value and affirm Darko Dachilko’s theories means no less than declaring oneself a heretic.

  Predictably, K at first had no idea what to write in his exam booklet. All he could do was take his usual stance of naive sincerity and simply state his honest opinions without embellishment. The truth is that the only reason he even has any opinion on this rather challenging question is due to the oddness of his own teacher back home. Hypocras kept a wide range of research materials on the writings of the heretic Darko Dachilko in his personal archive, despite the fact that, at least as far as K knows, these
documents have long been subject to strict bans on their publication and reproduction.

  The second question surely presented a challenge to the other candidates too. After all, Book 56 of the Southern Scriptures—the so-called “Book of the Seed”—makes use of a densely allegorical style known as the Sacred Euclidean language. There’s a reason it is known as the most perplexing of all the sections of the Southern Scriptures. As for the third question, well, K can’t really be sure he even understood what the question was all about. He thought that it might be connected to the millenarian theories of the heretic Darko Dachilko. Darko Dachilko lived during the third century of the Igituran Era. Even at the height of the glory of the Holy Empire of Igitur, the heretic was already prophesizing the eventual destruction of the world. It was precisely these prophetic pronouncements that led to his trial for heresy during the First Papal Conference in the year 313 of the Igituran Era.

  The night turns even more arid than the previous one. K tosses and turns through his dreams. Like the Möbius Strip Theories that The Holy Igitur wrote of in the Southern Scriptures, the world of K’s dreams perplexes him. Follow one side of the strip and you end up on the opposite side without realizing it. Somewhere there lurks the devil. Or is it that heretic Darko Dachilko? Or is it his own teacher?

  Rumors flew far and wide that Hypocras would often vanish for weeks at a time. K knows for a fact that there is some truth to these rumors. When he first moved into the groundskeeper’s room in the temple, he sometimes noticed his master locking himself inside the room at the top of the tower. Without the barred doors opening even once, he would vanish from within the locked room, leaving no trace of himself whatsoever.

  4

  In total, the Sacred Service Examination is a seven-day affair. Little by little, the numbers of the candidates dwindle, dropping like flies in the tense heat of the examination room. Each day, the examiners publish the names of those who passed the previous day, while the names of those who did not pass are omitted from the list. Somewhat perplexed, K finds his name on the list day after day.

  Question for day three of the exam:

  The exalted character of Loulan architecture is visible in its exploration of the limits of the ideas surrounding the expansion of space to engender a polynomial psycho-geography. Grossen’s spatial theories and Gerber’s general theory of polynomial structuralism have long been widely recognized as the foundations of Igituran theories of architecture. The discovery of phenomenological manifestations of Escher’s “impossible objects” facilitated the further development of Loulan architecture. Further to this, the so-called characteristics of Loulan interior design were facilitated by the further development of optical techniques such as photochemical phenomena, light dissolution, and light-separating curtains. As such, the unification of physics, psychology, and optics was achieved in the name of The Holy Igitur. With this in mind . . .

  This question pertaining to the Loulan Space City, some five hundred light-years from Earth, gives K a severe headache.

  K’s nerves begin to calm by the third day of testing. Every now and then, he manages to find the time to rest his writing hand atop his answer sheet. The heat and stillness let up, and a seductive breeze blows through the arches from the adjacent courtyard, dancing over his skin to the beautiful tinkling music of the massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

  Established by Pope Algol I in the year 323 of the Igituran Era, the origins of the Sacred Service Examination system can be traced back to an amendment to the “Law of Five Galaxies and Sacred Knowledge” first legislated in the year 223 during the Third Papal Congress. Set up as a system for the selection and licensure for prospective researchers in the fields of Sacred Inquiry, including such areas of study as Genetic Theology, Sacred Psychology, Sacred Evolution, Exobiology, and Infinite Engineering, the exam confers on those who pass the privilege of doing any research in any of the Holy Disciplines.

  What prompted the establishment of this system was precisely the heresy trial of the heretic Darko Dachilko. So heated were the debates surrounding the trial that the very foundations of all of Igituran society came into question. Even though Darko Dachilko had quite a number of disciples, he received a sentence of death in the year 313. This all happened long before K was born, but the stories have endured.

  On the last day of the examination, K and a few others are all that remain. To K, this is nothing less than a miracle.

  I did my best. Not much more I can do beyond that.

  Though he feels his own fate is no longer in his hands, a sense of accomplishment fills K. All he can do now is wait for the announcement of the results in a week’s time.

  By the time the city bells ring to signal the end of the Sacred Examination, only a fraction of the original number of candidates remains. Gathering together all the remaining candidates in a small side room, the chief examiner extends to them an invitation to a humble dinner party. But there is nothing humble about it in K’s eyes. So much meat prepared on various small plates for the candidates to partake of. And if that isn’t enough, the Papal Court provides several bottles of wine just for the occasion as well.

  The chief examiner congratulates and compliments everyone for their completion of seven straight days of examination. As a reward for their hard work, the candidates from out of town all receive a booklet of blue tickets. As K picks up his booklet, the staff explain to him that he is entitled to free meals in any of the public cafeterias within the city upon the presentation of these blue tickets.

  The candidates go their separate ways. K returns to his old spot underneath the banyan tree. So many stars—the Southern Cross, Circinus, Triangulum Australe, Centaurus—glimmer in the cloudless sky that night. K recalls the stories of Earth’s manned missions to these constellations. The glory of Igitur expanding a thousand light-years into space. Somehow, these stories always put K at ease as he gazes up toward the stars. The night deepens. The vagrants on the street slumber without making a sound. That night, K has his first wet dream in a long time.

  The intense light of the sun glows above the city. A sudden overnight squall has washed the streets of their usual sand and dust, though the dry white sands will soon blow over the city again. The cool breeze is a momentary reprieve. Soon, heat will once again blanket the city. K watches over the city from a terraced house on a hill. He still remembers how he once thought the city so radiant from behind the windows of the train when he first arrived. But once he stepped onto its streets, it revealed its true face, wrinkled and dirty.

  In the days since the end of the weeklong Sacred Service Examination, K’s life has been transformed thanks to the book of meal tickets. The privileges they provide him are worth far more than gold in this city.

  At first, K skips a few meals, trading his meal tickets for used sandals and clothes in the black market. Now, no one could ever mistake him for just another miserable vagrant about town. Despite these changes, he still calls the spot under the banyan tree his home, where he continues to have intimate conversations with that beggar woman who shared the spot.

  The dawn has yet to rouse the city from its sleep when K awakes on the first day since the end of the exams. The wailing of a baby wakes him. She had slipped from her sleeping mother’s arm and fallen onto the ground.

  Was the woman still lost in her sleep? No, one close look is all it takes to figure out that she’s ill. Kneeling beside her dirt-stained body, K places his palm on her forehead. She’s burning up.

  K peels off his shirt and carries it in his hands toward the water fountain in the middle of the park. Soaking the shirt with water, he makes his way back to where he had left the woman, placing the dripping shirt over her head.

  As soon as the morning market opens, K runs off to exchange another meal ticket for some medicinal herbs. He also procures some goat’s milk to feed the woman’s baby in the meantime. Having exchanged his allocation of rations, he of course will have to fast for the rest of the day.

  T
o K’s relief, the herbs turn out to be quite effective. It must be the first time she’s ever taken them. It takes no time at all for her to begin her recovery. Before long, she feels well enough to tell K her story. With weak whispers, she talks into the night about marauding gangs, her family murdered, her long journey to the city with her baby. The woman’s name is Eva.

  K dozes off and on as he waits for time to pass him by.

  No matter whether they are old or young, rich or poor, the women in the city walk the streets, wrap their gaunt bodies in black cloth, and hide their faces from the sun’s radiant heat with black veils. The law controls even fashion, restricting the residents to wearing only black. Exempt from these laws are the youngest children. Such fussy rules and regulations can never stop them from doing what they please with their naked bodies as they play around the water fountain.

  The robes K acquired from the black market follow the usual style of men’s clothing, which shares much with the flowing robes of the priests. Simple tunics, pulled over the head and secured around the waist with a piece of rope. While all the men have shaved heads, this does not mean that they are Sacred Service officers. They simply follow what is prescribed by law. Real Sacred Service officers can be distinguished by the ropes of different colors they wear around the waist. Some bit of gray coloration is even permitted to them, but only for those in the higher ranks of the order. Even at a glance, you will not ever mistake an officer of the order for a member of the rest of the population.

  As the sun continues its slow march toward the western half of the sky, throngs of men begin to gather around the terraced house. The time for the afternoon nap that will last until about four o’clock approaches. Next to the terraced house stands a large wooden sign that reads “Men’s World” with the solemn seal of the papal authority affixed below the words. That’s as clear a sign as any of the prohibition on women from taking even one step inside this place. It’s just one example of the legal segregation of men and women evident everywhere in the capital.