“And you’re satisfied with that?” K says. “You’ve lived on this planet for a while, so that might be enough for you! But I’m someone who needs to get myself to Planet Bosch!”
“I know that. But there is nothing we can do about it.”
“No, that’s not good enough! I’m not going to keep doing this. I’m going to get off this road and go climb that hill until I’m standing at its summit. Maybe I’ll spot something from up there. Maybe the ship that left me behind here will have returned, or maybe another ship will arrive for me.”
“Oh, no,” the old man says, his voice trembling, deathly afraid. “Please don’t go off the road.”
“Why not? You have no right to stop me.”
“This is true. But if you go off the road, I will cease to exist.”
Lines of anxiety form on the old man’s face, not that K has any understanding of what he’s saying.
“Don’t be silly.”
The old man becomes desperate. He starts to cry.
“Oh, please stop! Please stop!”
But K pays him no attention. He steps off the road. He cuts across the grassy hills to make a run for it.
Finally, K again awakens from his dream. This time, for real.
5
So it was just a dream.
K remains inside the cabin of the jump ship traveling through hyperspace.
What an odd dream!
When did his dream begin? When he woke from one dream, did another one continue in its place? Had he woken up inside his dream? This must be an effect of the ship’s distortions of time, letting such sequential dreams take place.
I can’t even trust my own senses.
K has to face his own personality.
A dream, a dream and a dream of a dream. A dream of a dream of a dream.
And so this topsy-turvy world continues on forever.
What if everything I’ve experienced thus far has all just been a dream?
Was any of it real?
What exactly is reality? Is it even possible to tell apart dream from reality?
Perhaps nothing truly exists in this world. Perhaps existence is nothing more than phenomenological appearance. Something may look like it exists but in reality it does not. It is a mere mirage, a shadow of something. Is all the world just an illusion?
K is alone inside the cabin of the ship, so dreadfully, so absolutely alone that he starts to think that loneliness is the fundamental essence of the universe.
No matter how much you recognize that there’s no guarantee of its absolute truth, it is nevertheless quite easy to grow accustomed to a world wherein the inescapable flow of time follows a strict order, moving in one direction, from past to future.
Nearing the end of its journey, the Nirvana-class jump ship undergoes a metamorphosis, changing the form of its black hull into the shape of a stingray as it glides down the dense atmosphere for landing. The ship has arrived at Planet Sola, the last inhabited planet at the frontiers of the Holy Empire of Igitur, located near the very edge of the Taklamakan Space Desert.
“Welcome to Planet Sola.”
Only a single member of the ground staff operates the spaceport. Somewhat stilted though it may be, he nonetheless attempts to present an affable smile to K. After giving K’s documents a quick glance, he sends him on his way.
“Everything looks to be in order, sir. Please proceed.”
K retrieves his documents.
Looking over his surroundings, K finds a spaceport that amounts to little more than an empty field. What facilities they have consist of little more than a small section marked off by wooden poles stuck through the ground at four corners with a straw rope going around them.
As far as K can tell, he is the sole disembarking passenger. He assumed that at least a few crew members had been piloting the ship, but it seems like he guessed wrong. Just to be certain, he inquires with the member of the ground staff who met him, who confirms his suspicions.
“Yes, sir, that is indeed the case. You are the only one who is arriving. The ship is fully automated, operated solely through your own willpower.”
Yet another feature of the black Nirvana ship no one told K about.
“Were you born on this planet?”
“Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. Or to be more accurate, I guess you can say that I was constructed on this planet.”
“Constructed?” K says, uncertain of how to take the man’s statement.
“It means that my flesh was made out of the soil of Planet Sola, but my soul was brought in from Loulan and breathed into me.”
“So, you’re a robot?”
“Not exactly. We all call ourselves Haniwa. Terracotta Clay Dolls, in other words.”
Dumbfounded, K’s mouth hangs open for a while.
“Is everyone on this planet . . . ?”
“Yes, we are all Haniwa.”
“Just how many of you are there?”
“Well, quite a few. I can’t really give you an exact figure.”
A thought crosses K’s mind.
“So wait, is the Nirvana ship constructed in the same way as you?”
“No, sir, that’s not the case. That ship is completely different from us. It’s actually a crow living in this area of space.”
“What? A crow? That ship?”
“Yes. They call it the Space Crow. It’s also sometimes called a Soul Bird, since it devours the souls of living beings. Others also call it the Night Bird.”
“Impossible!”
“It’s the truth. Of course, the wild ones are quite lazy and useless. But, as you’ve seen, when they’re well trained, they’re able to transport people across vast distances of space.”
K cannot believe what he’s hearing. If this Haniwa officer is to be believed, two such trained Space Crows ply the Sacred Route. He’s heard enough. There are more important matters on his mind right now.
“In any event, as you have seen in my paperwork, my instructions are to travel to Planet Bosch. Everything has the proper signatures from the Papal Court. Could you please arrange a connecting flight to my destination?”
The gentle face of the Haniwa officer contorts into a big smile.
“Yes, of course. If I am not mistaken, the next flight to Planet Bosch will depart the day after tomorrow.”
“Is Planet Bosch far from here?”
“No, sir. It’s only fifty light-years away.”
“Oh, really?” K says, quite relieved to hear the final destination is now just a stone’s throw away. “In that case, please make the arrangements for me . . .”
“Understood. In the meantime, please do let us know if you have any particular needs while you are here on Planet Sola.”
“No, there’s nothing really that I need right now.”
“In that case, please make yourself at home during your stay here. As you can see, this is little more than a frontier planet. People traveling from Earth may find it to be rather disagreeable.”
“No, that’s all right. If it’s only a couple of days, I can put up with pretty much anything. So, is there any place I can spend the night?”
“No, we don’t have any such places prepared for you. Well, we might as well just say there is no such place here. But if you head into town, you may find something.”
The officer claps his hands twice, signaling to two men crouched on the ground nearby.
6
One man is a rotund giant, the other an emaciated dwarf. The emaciated one appears to be in charge, sometimes slapping the rear end of the giant as he continues to sluggishly plod along without so much as a wince. The giant carries K on a seat strapped to his back.
Despite all appearances, the dwarf turns out to be quite helpful, providing straight answers to all of K’s ever-present questions arising from his usual curiosity.
According to the dwarf, while Planet Sola isn’t particularly large, its gravity is almost as strong as that of Earth, in part because of the high density of the planet’s
core.
“They say that there’s a solid core,” he explains. “Although no one has seen it, obviously.”
Indeed, it is a small planet. The planet’s featureless terrain extends as far as the eye can see, making the curvature of the horizon clearly discernible even to the naked eye. No mountains or hills to obstruct the view. No oceans, lakes, or rivers, either. None of that at all.
“This place looks to me like an accumulated chunk of clay,” K says.
“You’re right, sir. Planet Sola did indeed form out of coagulated dirt.”
“But how does clay form on this planet without any rivers? Without water penetrating through rocks, there’s no way for clay to form.”
“That the master has many questions is only natural,” the dwarf says. “The truth is that Planet Sola was created by the same man who breathed life into us.”
K gives him a puzzled look. It doesn’t sound to him like this story is merely some mythic origin story.
“So, this creator is your god then?” asks K.
“Yes. The God without a head. Even now, he returns to our world every so often.”
He explains that their God, the creator of these clay dolls, reappears to breathe new life into them. He always comes right around the time when they have almost forgotten about him.
So Planet Sola is an artificial planet.
Learning this fact amazes K.
“What is the name of this God of yours?”
“Our Lord Darko Dachilko.”
“What?”
K’s shock is almost palpable, indeed, very nearly traumatic.
So the heretic is indeed still alive!
“Oh, does the master know of Our Lord Darko Dachilko?”
“Oh, yes. I know of him. But, you see, he was supposed to have had his head chopped off hundreds of years ago. He’s supposed to be dead.”
“Oh, no, he is not dead,” says the dwarf, walking tall as he speaks. “In fact, his last visit to our planet happened just recently. It was he who ordered us to prepare the grounds for the spaceport.”
So all the strange tales surrounding Darko Dachilko must be true. Make no mistake, the legend of his immortality, and his time-traveling abilities, they all really happened. His wealth of knowledge about the secrets of the hyperspace pathways of the universe has given him the power to traverse time and space at will.
Right before K is the clear proof of all this.
It is hard to call the one and only settlement on Planet Sola a town at all, seeing that it is little more than a bunch of smaller paths intersecting the main street. A few houses constructed out of clay line these paths, every single one of them lacking any roof.
Several Haniwa clay dolls linger in the heart of the town, all of them looking idle and dazed.
K’s guide, the emaciated dwarf, stops the giant at one cross intersection.
“Sir, this is where you can get off.”
“Sure, thanks!” K says. “By the way, do you know of any good place to stay tonight?”
“You can stay wherever you like,” answers the dwarf, echoing the rather curt answer K got from the officer at the spaceport.
The man urges the giant on by striking his whip, leaving K standing in the center of the town.
The planet’s sky displays the approach of sunset. With time on his hands, K decides to walk around the settlement. Three hundred steps are all it takes before he reaches the end of the town. From the edge of the settlement, the featureless clay landscape presents a desolate sight as it extends all the way to the horizon. He turns around, retracing his steps back to the center of the settlement.
On his way back, K realizes that every single one of the townsfolk wears a face constructed with a permanent smile. Rather than making them appear amiable though, it gives them a crazed look. Their faces coupled with the ponderous manner of their movements make them quite a strange sight. And when they stop moving, they become indistinguishable from statues.
The sun begins to set while K continues to wander about the town. Having returned to the intersection he started from to catch his breath, he once again runs into the dwarf from earlier. The dwarf approaches him, calling out his name.
“Sir, are you done with your sightseeing?”
“Yes, all done.”
“Have you decided where you’ll be staying?”
“Actually, no, I haven’t.”
“Of course. I mean, with everything so dirty, you just don’t feel like sleeping anywhere, right?”
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
K tries to say more, but his words fall on deaf ears.
“Shall I take care of finding you lodgings and a woman, then?” asks the dwarf.
He whistles without waiting for K’s response. It must be a signal, as the giant immediately appears from out of the darkness, standing beside him.
“Let’s go!”
K does as the man suggests, riding the giant’s back once more. They walk through winding roads in one area of the settlement, as K sways from side to side. Finally, they drop him off in front of one of the houses.
Leaving K by the doorway, the dwarf enters the house. Almost as soon as he goes in, he comes right back out.
“Everything’s ready,” he says.
K had thought that he would be sleeping outside tonight, but it looks like things will be unfolding differently, so he won’t have to prepare for the worst any longer. K offers his sincerest thanks to the dwarf.
K steps inside the house, finding a room with a hearth built into its center, where black, tar-like coal smolders. Five Haniwa clay dolls—a family, by all appearances—live here. One is an older man, who appears to be the grandfather. Another pair of them look like a married couple. Beside them is a child sprawled on the floor. There’s something off about how he looks.
“Is everything all right with him?” asks K.
“He’s sick,” the clay husband answers.
The clay husband tells K that the spirit is draining out of his child. K brings his face closer to the child but finds nothing out of the ordinary about it.
“He’s probably just stopped moving.”
This whole thing is ridiculous. Is this planet of clay and its animated dolls of clay just some plaything that Darko Dachilko made on a whim? Making Planet Sola may be a massive undertaking. But in the end, it is a child’s toy. Although these animated clay dolls have been built at a life-sized human scale, they are, in the end, little more than dolls.
Leaning his back against the clay wall of this clay house, K can see that this is really the inside of some kind of giant dollhouse. Like all the other houses here, no roof protects this house above. Looking up, he sees unfamiliar constellations glittering against a rectangular slice of the night sky. He senses among them the watchful gaze of invisible eyes from far above the heavens.
Are you watching us from above, Darko Dachilko?
The clay wife sits before the hearth making rice cakes. A closer look reveals them to be made out of a white clay that looks like porcelain. She rolls them into balls, skewers them, then roasts them over the coals of the hearth. Helping her is their other child, a clay doll playing the role of their daughter. She carefully places more pieces of tar-like clay into the hearth.
After a few minutes of roasting, the rice cakes harden into white ceramic balls. They hand over the ones that are ready to K.
Eating them is clearly out of the question. But out of curiosity, K nonetheless asks about it.
“Like this,” the clay husband says as he dusts off the ash from the rice ball, bringing a piece close to his mouth. Just as K suspects, he does not actually eat it, instead merely mimicking the gesture of eating even as he declares it to be delicious.
Ludicrous! Like a child playing house! But what choice does K have? It’s far less trouble to just follow their lead. Might as well just go through with it. He brings the still searing-hot rice cake near his mouth, careful not to burn himself.
“This is delicious!” K also
says.
“Isn’t it? Please, have some more!”
The husband looks very pleased, continuing to push more rice cakes to K. There’s no way he can refuse him now. Soon, the rest of the family joins in the meal, turning the scene into a dinner party. The sight of everyone devouring these rice cakes as they repeatedly proclaim them to be delicious must be quite humorous.
After the meal, the family readies themselves for bed. The married couple occupy the best part of the room. The child does not move. The old man heads outside the house.
“You, go to the back room and sleep with our guest,” the clay husband orders his clay daughter.
With widened blue eyes, the clay daughter looks toward K with a slight reddish blush showing on her cheeks. K hesitates. Her parents though have no such compunctions. They immediately engage in their conjugal relations right there for all to see. With her body stretched out on the floor, the clay wife takes in her clay husband, making a squeaking noise that grates on the ear each time their bodies come into contact.
No longer able to watch this exceedingly absurd spectacle, K decides to make his exit from the house. But the clay daughter stops him, instead taking his hand in hers to guide him into the back room. To K’s surprise, the room is not all that bad, properly furnished even if every single piece is made of clay.
K sits down on a clay chair. Next to it, a small bookshelf leans against the wall. K picks up the thick decorative tome made of clay sitting within it. Squinting his eyes in the starlight reveals the words Southern Scriptures engraved on the book’s cover. Of course it was only decorative, impossible to flip open and read. Returning the book to the shelf, he turns his eyes to the clay daughter, who loads coal-black clay into the fireplace.
The room brightens up as soon as the fire is lit. Finally, K gets a good look at the clay daughter’s face. He gasps in stunned surprise, as if stricken by some magical spell.
“What’s your name, girl?”
“It’s Barbara.”
It’s the name that K hoped to hear.
Suddenly, the entire room is transformed in a flash.
The clay walls and clay furniture have vanished. The chair K has seated himself in changes into a seat tinged with the texture of velvet. The rest of the furniture becomes fine pieces made out of rare wood. From the filthy room of the muddy clay house, they are transported into the arbor of The Orchard clearly etched within K’s memories. The clay dress of the clay doll is no more, replaced by the serene blue dress of sheer silk that Barbara wore at the time.
The Sacred Era: A Novel (Parallel Futures) Page 24
