The Rise of OLMAC

by Kevin Gordon

the character within, the multitude of cosmic aberrations, stellar sculptures with light and gas, matter and void. He knew countless astronomers would gladly give their lives to see the cosmos as he saw it—instantly, without the distortion of time. He didn’t understand what within him gave him this ability but he sought to focus it, going at once from a wide view of a nebula to microscopic detail of nuclear synthesis. He would do this late into the night, wishing the darkness and solitude would never end. Then he would feel the rising sun beckon him back to Rell, taste the morning’s dew on his lips, and hear the noise of people rustling to and fro.

  He learned the appearance of meekness, of humility, but in his heart, he still didn’t trust those around him, and felt superior. He saw them do the same things roa after roa, never seeking the new and different. It was difficult for him to reconcile his nights spent with the universe against his roas watching men and women chatter and stumble, guffaw and waste precious time. He yearned to raise his hands, and use his power to show them what they could not attain. Great pity welled inside him, and he could not understand how his people, the Rell people, could live roa by roa unaware of the majesty of the universe, deprived forever of that aspect of existence.

  Earlier that roa he stood stupefied as three grown men stood and bantered not about religious issues—that he could tolerate—but about the height of root sprout in one field versus another. For two droas they spoke back and forth, sometimes getting heated. They spoke of rain; how often one tended the fields, the depth to which one tilled, what fertilizer worked best, the proper amount of shade, when in the season to begin planting, even the best time of the roa to begin uprooting the sprouts, and how to store them until they were processed. Graid was sorely tempted to access reports on Kolob and the great OLMAC/TELREC battle, but he restrained himself, and meekly kept his tongue, straightening this or that. Luckily a call came in for some seed to be delivered, and he was freed from his bondage.

  He only saw Ilahon once more so far—as he was passing his house with a delivery. Graid looked in his eyes, waved to his smile, and swore he had seen his face before, and not just on the mountain. There was something of the eternal in his aspect, an undying quality that Graid couldn’t resolve in his mind. His employer was quite a live ephemeral on the other hand, enjoying his food immensely, smiling at every pretty woman that passed by, no matter how many times they refused him. He was an older version of an aspect of Graid, an aspect Graid sometimes felt grow distant, other times howl to be appeased.

  Up and down hills he walked, for the transport was broken, and the customer had requested the seed as soon as possible. Graid didn’t mind—he’d rather be out of the store, in the fresh air, than inside making idle conversation with the rare few customers that would drift in. There was a cluster of homes on the outskirts, and at the top of a hill nearby one could gaze out over a small sea. He walked in between the homes, gazing quickly at each of them, looking at the inhabitants within. He hadn’t been around the village much except for deliveries—it was a hard adjustment from the dense immensity of Novan to this relaxed sprawl of rural living. The urges were coming back to him, as he hadn’t been with a woman since Selva visited him at Piros. His face may not have been the same, but he had a strong, virile body, and the younger women in the village glanced overlong at him. The beast inside yearned to be free, to gather them all and spend the night satisfying himself, corrupting their impressionable minds. But it was then he thought of Arciss, and what he was on Rell for, and would meditate to calm himself.

  I feel like all the fun is gone. Damned responsibility.

  He stumbled, his mind distracted by thoughts of unfulfilled lust.

  Damn.

  A nail caught him almost in the center of his shoe. He continued on, but could only step with his heel, lest he drove the nail into his foot. A young woman came up to him, seeing his distress.

  “Why don’t you just put that down, and pull it out?” she asked, with a voice Graid found full of sweetness and rebuke.

  “I’m almost there. Then I can put this down for good, and rest for a while.”

  She wrinkled her nose, in an expression that said are you really that simple? Dressed in a beautiful white and yellow dress with faint blue flowers around its trim, she knelt in front of him.

  “What are you doing?” asked Graid.

  “You can’t walk around like that,” she replied, matter-of-factly.

  She lifted his leg up, and pulled hard on the nail. It was in his shoe tightly, and as it came out, she almost fell over backwards. A peal of laughter escaped her, as she got to her feet.

  “Got it, sir!” She held it up in front of him with a silly yet charming grin on her smooth, brown face. “You’re lucky I came along when I did.”

  Graid was caught by something in her eyes.

  “Yes, I am,” he spoke, softly.

  She stepped back, dusting off her dress.

  “And I’m going someplace special too,” she pouted. “Ah well, one should never resist the opportunity to do some good. Don’t you agree?”

  “I suppose,” he replied, almost feeling as if it was a rebuke of sins she couldn’t know about.

  He stood there, forgetting about the load on his back, looking at her eyes, her lips, her hair and skin. But more than that, he looked in her soul, and saw a beautiful clarity, one he never had seen before, not from those on Novan, to his compatriots in Rellcine..

  “Well, I better be getting on,” she said, not really moving anywhere, just darting a glance now and then at Graid’s eyes. “I hope I see you again, that is, if you make bathing a more regular practice.”

  Graid sniffed. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long roa, and—”

  “Oh stop!” she shouted playfully, pushing him lightly, her hand lingering a little on his chest and a coy smile dancing on her lips. “I think you need a sense of humor, too. Good-bye!”

  With that, she ran off, down the hill, into the center of the village. Graid watched her run away, and one might have thought he was watching a stellar nebula, or the birth of an entire galaxy. He shook his head, hefted the sac to a better position on his back, and for the rest of the roa tried to work her image out of his mind.

  The more he ventured out into the village over the next few roas, the more he saw her. As he got back from the delivery, she waved to him as she headed back home. As he left work to relax near the river, he overheard her talking in a room nearby, and caught a glimpse of her face. As he woke the next morning, he could hear her singing with some other women as they finished Castiliad. And with each new sighting of her, an affection grew within him. He thought her voice to be divine, her face cut from the stars themselves. When he meditated, something she said would inevitably find its way into his mind, her eyes close to his. He wanted to lie with one of the village girls, flaunt his satisfied sexuality in front of her, so she would become angry, and avoid him. But this time he couldn’t. His desire was not a sexual one. He longed to sit with her, hear her laugh at something he said, see her smile for his eyes. He longed to possess her, and to be possessed by her. He contemplated this new form of existence with Ilahon, over a sudden, unexpected invitation to a lunchtime meal.

  “So how do you like our little village?” asked Ilahon quickly. “You’ve been here for almost a dozen roas, though in truth, you seem to be alone more than I’d like—don’t you like us? I know we’re a simple people, bound to routine. I’m sure you hear no end of chatter at the store!” He shoveled the food in his mouth, speaking hurriedly in-between bites, almost oblivious to Graid’s presence. “The old men are worse than the old women; they stand around, talking about nothing and thinking it’s everything. I’ll bet you probably think their concerns trivial, and flighty, but you would be surprised how it helps to pass the time.”

  Graid nodded his head a couple of times, rolling over the image of the woman who took the nail out of his shoe in his mind.

  “I like it here.”

  Ilahon sat back in contemplati
ve silence, gazing long at Graid. The sun was just breaking through some clouds, chasing away the grey that colored the land before them. Suddenly, colors bloomed in the grass, on the clothes of the passersby. The air seemed filled with those colors, with that life, and Ilahon shot a knowing glance at Graid, before inhaling deeply of its scent.

  “Who is she?” asked Ilahon. Graid burst out laughing, his face turning red.

  “How did you know?”

  “Son, I’ve been in love more times than I could count,” he said, pushing his empty plate aside. It scraped the wooden table a little, rubbing off some of its polish. “Damn,” he said, laughing at himself. “Well, I’ll tell you, it’s always the same, but it’s a routine you never get used to, and always look forward to. You’re either avoiding someone, or trying to get close to someone. She’s in your thoughts, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. No matter how hard I try to purge her, she comes back, infecting my dreams.”

  “Now why are you so damned silly? Purge her? Sounds like a virus or something.” Ilahon shook his head, amazed at how obtuse Graid could be. He rubbed a little at the table, trying to spread some of the polish, to no avail. “Feelings like that need to be kept close, wrapped around your heart like a hand-knitted blanket to keep it warm at night. Have you lived,