The Promise of the Orb

by Marshall Cobb

  Malcolm paused as if accessing a long-dormant database. “You are referring to Buddha’s analogy regarding the repeated placement of a small seed in an immense cube every hundred years and how this giant cube is filled before the end of a maha-kalpa in the context of an aeon?”

  Malcolm’s pronunciation of eon was odd, but that was about all that Peter or any of the others on his team understood from the response.

  “Did he say something about a giant cube?” Peter wondered.

  Jigme apparently understood and nodded.

  Malcolm looked slightly uncomfortable. He pulled again at the tip of his mustache as he replied, “Apologies. I was utilizing the term loosely to indicate the passage of a great deal of time. I was not attempting to specifically define it within the context of Buddhism.”

  Jigme nodded again—satisfied. Peter opened his mouth, then closed it. He turned to his team’s designated smart person, Jenny, and raised his eyebrows to see if she understood. She shook her head no, and Peter felt just a little bit worse about his team’s chances against the opposing team.

  Peter stood up slowly, then began to pace. The others on both teams stood up as well and watched him.

  “It doesn’t appear to matter if we think this Game is right or wrong. You are forcing me to make a choice.” He thought about that for a moment, then stopped and stared at Malcolm. “Wait! What if I refuse to make a choice?”

  It was Orb who responded. “If you fail to make your choice, our team loses and everyone on it ceases to exist in their current form. As with the second option you, Peter, will become the keeper of my final receptacle and free will maintains its grip on your planet.”

  Seeing no advantage to that path, Peter again began pacing. It was Jigme who spoke next.

  “I, like Peter, am unconvinced that the side I have been chosen to represent reflects my beliefs.”

  Jigme turned slightly to better address Cube, who continued to hover by Malcolm.

  “Free will is the source of wars, pollution, oppression and many other ills—"

  Orb interrupted, “Exactly, Jigme. With an absolute ruler there is peace and prosperity.”

  Jigme continued as if he had not heard Orb, “…yet free will is also the path to enlightenment.”

  “Yes, Jigme,” Cube chimed in, “and the peace and prosperity Orb speaks of comes with an iron grip of slavery and oppression for a large portion of the civilization it rules. Your ancient Egypt is a good example of that experiment.”

  Orb glowed again, “That era represents some of the greatest achievements this species has achieved.”

  “Via slavery, of course,” Cube added.

  “Had you not narrowly won the prior Game, that particular civilization could have attained unimaginable heights,” Orb replied.

  “Under your absolute authority,” Cube countered.

  “Based on the path this world has taken under your rule, I believe my absolute authority would be a welcome change. Malcolm, please share the projections regarding the future of this civilization should Cube remain in charge.”

  Malcolm smiled but conveyed no happiness when he replied, “The warlike nature of portions of this civilization, combined with the presence of abundant, powerful weapons create an 84.5% chance this civilization will destroy itself within the next fifty earth years. Should this final conflict be avoided, there is a 99% chance the planet will be rendered largely uninhabitable to the human species within the next 100 earth years. There is the possibility this civilization could continue by colonization of another planet, but that option is currently not available and there is no certainty it would be within the timeline.”

  “Malcolm?” Cube asked. “Please confirm that in every projected outcome there remains a chance that this civilization learns to turn away from war and addresses the environmental damage it has caused.”

  “That is correct,” Malcolm replied.

  All present stood quietly and tried to digest what they had heard.

  Finally, Jigme turned to face Orb. “Forgive me, but I do not believe I could worship you.”

  Orb replied, “Then it appears you are indeed representing the correct side.”

  “I think that is probably enough on that particular topic,” said Malcolm. Both Orb and Cube glowed again, but the argument stopped.

  Eli, largely ignoring this debate, grabbed Peter’s arm and stopped his pacing. “Peter, there is nothing to discuss. We have to compete against them. I am not leaving you behind to spend eternity inside a tree, or a boulder.”

  Eli reached out and grabbed Peter’s other arm as well. “I am not going to go home and just forget I ever had a brother.”

  Peter stared into Eli’s eyes and saw, perhaps for the first time, just how much his brother actually did care about him. He then turned and looked at Jigme and his team, then grimaced and slowly shook his arm out from under Eli’s grasp.

  “I won’t risk all of you just to save myself.” He then looked at Orb and thought back through all the events of the past few days, particularly how Orb had teleported them against their will to the final destination. “And I really don’t think that putting Orb in charge of our planet is a good idea. I’m sorry, Eli.”

  Eli stood silently, trying to think of something to say, when Jenny, Irene and Matt closed in and pulled at Peter, collectively saying things like, “You can’t do this, Peter! We can win, Peter! Don’t do it, Peter!”

  Malcolm spoke over all of them in a commanding voice. “As a point of order, Peter would not spend eternity guarding Orb’s final receptacle—just a cycle, which lasts between two-thousand and four-thousand years. And, to confirm, if Peter concedes to Cube, none of you on his team, or anyone who has ever known him will have any memory of him.”

  “If we win,” Eli asked, “Jigme is the one who ends up guarding Cube’s final receptacle?”

  “Yes, he stays as the final receptacle for Cube, who will be broken into receptacles and distributed throughout your world. All other members of team Cube would move on to another form.”

  Jigme stared at Eli for a moment, then turned and smiled briefly at his teammates. Having no control over what happened next made this situation just as difficult for Jigme.

  Matt broke the silence with another question. “Malcolm, if we win, who decides where Cube’s receptacles go??”

  “I do, Matthew, just as I would decide where Orb’s receptacles would be placed in the event Cube’s team is the victor. It would be of no concern to any of you.”

  Matt nodded but looked as if he were still pondering the answer to his question.

  Peter, feeling queasy again, tried to wrap his mind around where he was and what he needed to do. Looking at Orb, Malcolm, Cube, Jigme and his team and the swirling world of blue and red around them did not help. He could not get any help from Big Ed, thousands of miles away back on their farm. Big Ed, who, if Peter ended up guarding the receptacle, would not even remember that he once had a second son. Peter felt like he was back in the quarry, trying to swim upwards toward the light while his lungs, and his head, screamed their pain.

  He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. At first, he felt even more ill, but slowly his equilibrium returned.

  “Malcolm,” Peter asked, his eyes still closed, “what happens to the final receptacle we are currently within once this round of the Game ends?”

  Malcolm squinted slightly at Peter, attempting to ensure he understood the question. “You mean the life form that had to become this receptacle when Orb’s team lost the last round of the Game? You want to know what happens to this life form?”

  Peter opened his eyes. “Yes. I want to understand what becomes of this life form—which was a living, breathing person on this planet—after they spend 3,000 years trapped as a receptacle.”

  Malcolm started to open his mouth when Peter interrupted him, “And don’t just say they ‘moved on.’ Do they become a human being again? Do they become this tree? What happens to them?”

  “The
y do indeed change forms once again, Peter. The details of that process are outside of what you would be able to understand, but life continues.”

  Peter scowled and again closed his eyes. “That’s your best answer? You’re not smart enough to understand but, trust me, life continues?”

  Malcolm decided to classify Peter’s outburst as a venting of nerves and agitation—not a question—and remained silent.

  Peter muttered at the confirmation that he had no real idea what could happen to him when Jenny tentatively touched the sleeve of his shirt, then whispered, “Whatever you decide, Peter, that’s the right choice. We are all with you no matter what.”

  Matt leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t give up—there’s a lot of good stuff involving girls you need to experience before you decide to become a tree.”

  Irene punched Matt on the shoulder as hard as she could. Matt yelped and pulled back, rubbing his shoulder and almost apologized to Irene by saying, “What? I didn’t think you could hear me!”

  Irene shot Matt a dirty look, which softened as she turned to Peter. “I’m sorry about him, Peter. You do whatever you think is best.” She leaned in and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry that you have to make this choice.”

  Eyes still closed, Peter smiled slightly. Did he risk all of them, potentially putting Orb in charge of their planet, or did he sacrifice himself, keeping free will and all its potential problems in charge? It was too much to ask of anyone. Why had Orb chosen a thirteen-year-old boy as his champion?

  Eli then put his hand on Peter’s shoulder and said, “I would rather move on, whatever that means, than live without you.”

  Eli then hugged him and Peter, much to his surprise, found himself hugging Eli back. It had taken a lot—potentially the end of the world as they knew it—to get the brothers to like each other again, but here they were. Still squeezing his eyes closed, Peter whispered, “I love you, bro.” He then opened his eyes, pulled back from Eli and turned to Malcolm.

  “I choose the first option. We will compete.” Peter then turned to everyone on his team, a little afraid to see some of them disappointed, or angry, with his decision. He was happy to see that everyone smiled at him. Matt gave him a thumbs up, and Eli raised his fist and pumped it.

  Malcolm’s expression did not change. Both Orb and Cube pulsed brightly. Jigme and his team thoughtfully appraised their competition.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The Trials

  “Very well then,” Malcolm said as he clapped his hands.

  The floor, walls and ceiling immediately flipped from their muted mix of blue and red to a fiery, bright version where one color slowly eroded the other until only one remained, which was then eroded by the other color. Orb, backlit by the brilliant colors that at times matched his own, slowly tracked over to the left side of the room while Cube methodically moved to the right side. Their respective followers shuffled behind them and sat on benches that had mysteriously appeared while Malcolm, sporting a smile almost as wide as his mustache, stood in the middle.

  Jigme, no longer whispering, addressed Cube. “This is not what we were led to believe. You lied to us.”

  Malcolm spoke quickly, before Cube could respond, “No, Jigme, I have monitored all interactions and there have been no lies.”

  Malcolm snuck a quick look over to Orb. “There have been plenty of half-truths or statements that could easily be misunderstood, but I can assure you that the Game is pure. Your main source of confusion is your failure to ask sufficient questions.”

  Jigme, expressionless, waited to see if Malcolm had more to add. He did not. Jigme then turned to his teammates, bent down a little and whispered for some time. Again, there was uniform agreement as shown by their nodding heads. Eventually Jigme bowed slightly to his teammates, and then turned to face Malcolm.

  “We do not agree, but we gave our word to compete, so we will.”

  Malcolm smiled again. If he was offended, he did not show it.

  “The trials shall begin with the team representing the Orb picking its first representative, who will then select their opponent from the team representing Cube.”

  Peter sat with Matt and Irene to his left, and Eli and Jenny to his right. Orb moved so that he hovered over Peter’s lap.

  Peter stood, awkwardly, trying to get around Orb. “I’ll go first.”

  Orb replied, “No, Peter. As the leader you must go last.”

  Peter looked over to Malcolm, who nodded.

  “Wow, with all these rules it’s hard to believe we’re living under free will,” Eli chided.

  Peter sat back down, and Irene shakily raised her hand and then stood. Matt grabbed at her free arm, which she shook loose. “I’ll go first.”

  “No, Irene, let me!” Matt tried to stand but Irene gently pushed him back down.

  “I’ll be fine. Even if I fail, the rest of you can win your battles and rescue me, right?”

  Matt continued to clutch her hand as she stopped looking at them and instead focused on the colors slowly absorbing one another above their heads. She lowered down a little and whispered, “I’ll try to pick one of their best. That way if I lose, the rest of you will have better odds with their remaining teammates.”

  She finally stopped staring at the colors to instead look at her feet, which still sported the now very dirty leather sandals she had picked up in Real de Catorce. “I know I’m not the strongest, or the smartest person we have, but I will do my best.”

  The rest of the team joined Matt in grabbing and holding a spot on her arms or hands. A single tear ran down her right cheek and then disappeared on the surface of the swirling floor. She pulled her hand back from Matt, wiped a little at her eye and then turned to look at Malcolm.

  “I am ready, Malcolm.”

  “Excellent, and so brave for someone so young.” Malcolm gestured to the opposing team on the side of what her brain now thought of as a room—but was still somehow the inside of a 600-year-old tree.

  Irene followed his hand and recognized a substantial flaw in her plan. There was no obvious way for her to try and determine who was the best or strongest member of the other team. They were all men. They all looked to be between forty-five and fifty-five. All of them had shaved heads. They were roughly the same height and, though it was tough to tell for sure with their large, orange and red robes, they looked to be roughly the same weight as well. The only one on that team who had spoken was Jigme, and from his comments he was smart, and confident.

  “Malcolm?” Irene asked. “Can I choose Jigme?”

  “No, Irene. Just as Peter will go last for your team, Jigme will go last for his.”

  Eli groaned.

  Irene nodded, already expecting that answer. Lacking a better option, she focused in on the monk at the far-right end of their bench. There was nothing physically distinctive about him, but his eyes conveyed strength, determination. She had promised to try and remove one of the opposing team’s strongest players. This was the best she could do. She pointed at him.

  “I challenge him, please. The man on the end.”

  The man rose, and Cube glided over to him, presumably to give him some encouragement.

  “Ah, Dawa,” Cube said. “Excellent.”

  Dawa showed no emotion one way or the other as he nodded to his teammates and strode out to Malcolm. Irene kissed Matt on the cheek quickly, pushed him away and strode over so that she was face-to-face with her opponent. Malcolm stood between them, a full step back.

  It dawned on Peter that if their team lost, none of them would ever see Irene again. From the tears running from the corners of Irene’s eyes, it looked like she understood that as well.

  “Irene!” Peter called out. “We won’t lose. Don’t worry!”

  Matt, still dazed from the kiss, the subsequent push, and the fact that his girlfriend was about to enter some kind of universe-wide contest, shook his head to clear it and ran toward Irene.

  Malcolm raised one arm slightly and Matt was froze
n with one foot raised above the floor. Matt grunted, trying to move, but found only his mouth worked. “I love you, Irene!”

  Irene turned briefly to him, smiled, then, tears still running down her face, turned back to Dawa.

  Malcolm pulled happily on both ends of his mustache. “Are we ready to begin?”

  Both Irene and Dawa nodded.

  Malcolm clapped his hands, and everything went dark. After a brief, panicky second, light replaced the darkness, and Irene and Dawa stood in a small clearing of what appeared to be a tropical rain forest. Both contestants slowly turned to take in their surroundings, and to find their host, but Malcolm was gone.

  In his place were impossibly tall trees that rose so high above them, they probably only permitted sunlight to squeeze into the small clearing for just a few hours a day. Irene squinted and, using her right hand to shield her eyes, stared at something that had both caught and evaded her gaze. As she watched, a large portion of what appeared to be an old, gnarled branch of one of the giant trees rose up and lazily clawed its way over to the next branch, where it tore into a cluster of ruby-red fruit she had never seen before. She watched, a bit uneasily, as the red fruit was punctured and then chewed up in great globs that disappeared down the branch creature’s throat.

  Without breaking her gaze on the creature, she raised her arm and used the index finger of her right hand to poke at where she thought Dawa was standing. She made contact and got a grunt in return. She then pointed to the creature and had mixed feelings when Dawa emitted a gasp of surprise. It was nice that she was not going crazy, but the fact that they were in some strange forest that did not seem like it belonged on earth was less than comforting.

  “Malcolm!” she cried out.

  “Yes, Irene, I am here.”

  She spun around again and saw nothing but forest. Dawa did the same.

  “Where?”

  “I am not there in physical form, but my mind is with you now and throughout your contest.”

  “Are you here to protect us?” she asked nervously, looking again at the giant creature she very much hoped was an herbivore.