by Jon Jacks
Oh, why can’t I have been born human, like so many other girls?
How much simpler, how much more wonderful, would my life have been then?
Then again, would I have been so beautiful?
Would I have attracted Joel?
Would I have even known Joel?
The answer to all three questions is, ‘Probably not.’
The saddest looking plant of all is one that seems to lie towards the centre of this massive garden complex, judging by the way all the roads and pathways appear to steadily gather together around here.
It would be, I guess, have been a golden flower at some point, going by the shed petals lying about its extensive roots. These are no longer of gold, of course, now being more of a mix of yellow and saffron tints as opposed to possessing metallic glints, yet the overall effect is of a golden carpet.
The bloom itself is withered, the heart of the flower unveiled but for the last dried remnants of previously glorious petals that are still clinging to it.
Joel insisted that I give him a swift account of everything that had happened to me since our parting; which I did without once mentioning the help of the mysterious girl, naturally.
Similarly, he had to tell me how he’d hidden away aboard Nevaeh as he set out searching for me, unaware that I’d been taken out to sea by the hovering droid. Eventually, he’d been discovered, his father delighting in telling him that I was dead, that our relationship was over.
‘It didn’t have the effect he’d wanted,’ Joel says. ‘I hated him more than ever, rather than agreeing to train to be the next Master, which is what he really wants me to be. So when you turned up once again on Nevaeh’s tracking system – sorry, I should have known you’d have a tracker – he’d told me in the hope of regaining my love and trust.’
‘And did he?’ I ask. ‘Did he regain your love and trust?’
‘He brought you back to me; I have to thank him for that,’ he answers, turning to me, slipping his hands, his arms around my waist, my back. ‘But as for my love and trust: I’ve already given all that to you.’
*
‘Why did you say you should have known I’d have a tracker? I presume now that we – that droids tend to come with them.’
I no longer like referring to myself as a droid when I’m with Joel.
‘Oh, the more definitely mechanical droids always come with some device like that; it enables us to ensure we can control what they’re doing, see where they are. But the self-thinking classes, particularly the ones destined for the Rooms…the Roo…’
His hesitant manner suggests to me that he’s also nervous about thinking of me as being a droid.
‘Well, it’s supposed to be illegal; I mean, the potential for blackmailing powerful customers…’
He leaves the rest unsaid. Just smiles sickly at me, regretting bringing all this up.
Does he know that I have to leave him soon? That I’ve promised his father I’ll return to the Rooms of Pleasure?
Probably not.
‘Did your father use the Rooms in that way?’
He nods in reply to my question.
‘He’s hardly the type, is he, to pass up on an opportunity like that?’ he says, his voice tinged with bitterness and irritation. ‘He used this garden the same way…which is why it now lies like this.’
Indicating the endless, distressed land surrounding us with a wave of an arm, he spun around on his heels; and halted in surprise as he saw for the first time the path along which we’d just walked.
Unlike the wasteland stretching off in every other direction, the garden here had regained its incredibly beauty, the flowers in glorious bloom, the bushes and trees burgeoning with leaves, berries and fruit.
He spun back to me, his eyes wide with shock, with utmost joy.
He wrapped his arms about me, pulling me incredibly, tightly close.
Now he was the one sobbing with relief and happiness.
‘Oh my God, my God; you do love me!’
*
Chapter 38
‘Now how can you possibly know that?’ I ask Joel, even as I giggle with excitement at the thought.
I feel so happy when I’m with him, so wonderfully content when he holds me – but is that love?
I don’t, really, even know what love is, do I?
‘The garden,’ he says, briefly bringing my attention back to the gloriously flowering blooms, ‘the garden says you love me! And it never lies!’
How can a garden know I love him when even I’m not sure?
Even a garden on Nevaeh couldn’t possibly do that, could it?
About us, because we’ve lingered a while in a single place, the bushes and flowers are growing swiftly, gorgeously.
‘But…could it be sensing that you love me?’ I ask hesitantly, nervous that I might be pressing him to reveal things he’d prefer to remain hidden, that I might not get the answer I want.
Besides, aren’t I also hinting that it might not be my love the garden’s reading? And isn’t that all a little unfair on him?
He swings around on his heels, taking me with him in an elated whirl as he considers this, his face contorted a little in bewilderment.
‘But my heart…no! Of course you’re right; we both have to feel this to create all this spectacular beauty!’
He turns back to me, looks intently into my eyes, whispers with surprise and joy:
‘I love you!’
*
The garden grows on the emotions it feels within us.
It’s not just a garden of contentment, as I had first thought; it’s one of content, the emotions that really make us who we are.
What sort of empty life would we live if it were devoid of emotion?
Without the emotional, life would seem endless, pointless.
Yes, and to have those high points of emotion – love, joy – we also need those low points of hate, sadness, even of envy; all of which are simply other sides of the favourable emotions.
To know the good, we must also know the bad.
‘But what did you mean by using the garden to blackmail people?’ I ask Joel as he elatedly explains the workings behind this most fabulous of gardens.
‘Well, not blackmail as such; but as near as much the same!’ he chuckles, unsuccessfully hiding a tinge of bitterness, of anger. ‘Dad turned it all into a garden of delights for important people who’d be expected to return the favour; they could bring their partners here and the garden would flourish, supposedly proving their love for each other.’
‘Supposedly? Are you saying the garden can be manipulated?’
‘The girls or boys from the Rooms of Pleasure the senators had really fallen in love with would be here; naked and hiding amongst the bushes, tantalisingly revealing themselves now and again, but only to the senator. Of course, the garden wasn’t completely fooled, the flowering being relatively mundane; but the partners weren’t to know that, so they went away happy.’
‘Joel! That’s awful! What a dreadful way to use such a beautiful garden!’
‘That’s my dad for you; he can’t touch anything without tainting it.’ With a nod of his head, he draws my attention back to the area of serpents, of Trees of Life, of Knowledge of Good and Evil. ‘Take Jonah’s Kykeon, for instance–’
‘Joel! You told me you knew nothing of the crimson worm!’
‘Worm?’ He frowns in bemusement. ‘I don’t know anything about any worm,’ he assures me innocently, before adding, as if the thought had just struck him, ‘Ah, unless you saw it, and mistook the crimson berry for your worm!’
So that’s it; like me, Joel had mistaken the worm for a fruit.
‘The berries are important, actually,’ Joel continues, ‘because you can make a mind expanding but dangerous hallucinogenic from the plant’s beans – castor oil beans – but you need to be brought safely back down to earth, to steady your heart, with a drug from the berries.’
‘So this Kykeon; that appears in the story of Jonah?�
��
He nods.
‘Apparently, after God decided to save the people of Nineweh, Jonah was weirdly a bit upset that they’d achieved divine forgiveness so easily; so God allowed the Kykeon to grow about him, shading him from the beating sun and calming him.’
‘And no worm’s mentioned?’ I persist.
‘You and this worm!’ Joel chuckles in exasperation. ‘I suppose that, after you’ve taken this crazy trip, you feel like a bit of a worm when you’re recovering; it might be in the story, but I haven’t really read it. Oh, and apparently the tiger-like stripes of the beans made the bush look a bit like angry wasps – not worms – buzzing around the golden honey of the uppermost branches; you know, sort of glowing in the sunlight?’
‘Okay, okay; so let’s forget the worm,’ I laugh, raising my arms in mock submission. ‘Let’s get back to the garden; why’s it so desolate, so abandoned?’
Joel purses his lips in puzzlement.
‘I’m not too sure; maybe the garden was revealing too many failed romances? Maybe couples didn’t want to visit the garden, in case it revealed their true feelings?’
I happily slip my arm through his as we walk through this wonderfully bourgeoning garden.
‘But…it’s all just so incredibly beautiful!’ I exclaim.
‘For us; not for everyone,’ Joel points out with a pleased chuckle. ‘For us, it’s a new Eden; like we’re the new Adam and Eve!’
‘Oh, don't say that Joel!’
It’s an Eden that, like Adam and Eve, we’re going to have to leave.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Joel asks light-heartedly. ‘It’s not like there’s any evil serpent here to make things go wrong, is it?’
No, he’s not actually here; but his presence is all around us. I made a promise to Joel’s father, the Master, that my time with Joel would only be brief – and then I would take up my originally appointed role in the Rooms of Pleasure.
Joel senses my anguish.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, bringing us to a halt on the path, slipping his hands reassuringly about my waist.
I don’t want to tell him; but I have to.
It’s only fair he knows the truth.
I can’t just leave him without letting him know what I have to do.
I feel like I’m about to fall completely apart.
‘We…I have to leave…’ I say hesitantly.
‘No, no; you don’t!’ he protests, pulling me close, holding me tight. ‘I’ve okayed it all with Dad; I’ll take up the training to replace him as Master–’
I’m so shocked, I instinctively pull away from Joel.
‘Joel, no! Not the Master of Nevaeh!’
‘What’s so wrong with that, if it means we can be together–’
‘No, no! Your father will never allow it! He’s full of tricks!’
‘He promised…’
He says it with an air of someone who doesn’t believe his own words.
‘Promises? From your father?’
He shrugs resignedly, like he knows what I mean, but can’t see what he’s expected do about it.
‘Look,’ he says, a little more brightly than before, ‘if I run Nevaeh, I can make changes–’
‘The Rooms of Pleasure; you’ll close them?’
Joel grimaces, frowning doubtfully. I recognise that doubtful expression. It’s the one his father used in the elevator.
‘Well, eventually, yes…’
That underlying hint of unease has returned.
‘Eventually?’ I repeat sceptically. ‘No, Joel; now, if possible! It’s obscene, unfair–’
‘It pays for everything else!’ Joel snaps exasperatedly, like it’s bursting out him, like it’s a nagging boil that's been building and building inside him until it has finally had to erupt. ‘Every other part of Nevaeh, Iona; it's too elaborate, too expensive to run! If it wasn’t for the Rooms of Pleasure, Nevaeh would cease to exist!’
I draw back completely from Joel, letting the last fumbling touch of his hands fall away from my waist.
‘Well, if that’s the way you see it, Joel; maybe you’ll be pleased to hear that I agreed with your father that I’d return to them–’
‘No!’ Joel shrieks anxiously, grabbing me about the waist once more. ‘Not you, Iona! You don't have to–’
‘I do!’
I force his hands away from my waist, stepping back even farther from him.
‘If not me, who else?’ I demand, glaring at him. ‘We have to make the money, don’t we? To keep dear Nevaeh going?’
‘Iona, this is ridiculous!’ Joel protests, trying to step closer towards me only for me to step farther back. ‘I can’t have you–’
‘Can’t have me?’ I say scornfully. ‘Yes, in that, I think you’re right, Joel: you can’t have me!’
About me now, I hear the strangest sounds; a dreadful slithering, an horrendous gurgling.
It’s the plants; they’re wilting, withering.
Dying.
*
Chapter 39
‘I hope you’re pleased with yourself!’ Joel growls, observing the collapsing plants with a mingling of sadness and fury.
‘Pleased with myself? Why would I be pleased with myself? Do you really think I want to go back to the Rooms of Pleasure?’
Joel makes an attempt at conciliation, staring forlornly into my eyes, fruitlessly reaching out with his hands for mine.
‘How could you make such a deal with him?’ he asks miserably. ‘Why couldn’t you trust me to work things out?’
‘It’s…it’s best this way…’ I stammer unsurely.
We would have had to part anyway.
Isn’t it really for the best that Joel at last gives up any hope of persuading me to stay with him? His father would never allow it. He would chase us to the ends of the earth.
At least, this way, Joel remains safe. And if he hates me; well, isn’t that better than being in love with someone destined for the Rooms of Pleasure?
I don’t want to be responsible for causing him such endless agony, that worm of envy endlessly eating him up.
I’ll always know that someone once thought me worthy of their love.
‘We can run away…’ he continues to hopelessly protest.
‘Your father would rather see us dead.’
‘Better dead than…’
‘No; I don’t want to die, Joel,’ I lie. ‘Unlike you, I haven’t been alive long.’
‘What sort of life will it be in the Rooms of Pleasure!’ he snarls.
‘Well when you’re Master; obliterate them!’
‘I will, I will,’ he grimly assures me, ‘but by then, it’ll be too late for you; for us!’
*
The blooms around me now are as sad as I feel.
They had crumpled completely as Joel had stormed off, heading back toward the gates.
Now they are rapidly decaying, even rotting in some cases.
Soon, there’ll be nothing left of their briefly fabulous flowering.
The girl is watching me.
She’s smiling; but I can tell she’s sad, that she feels sorry for me.
She’s sitting on a park bench, swinging her legs gaily.
Like the gates, the bench’s frame is of wrought iron. Like the gates, too, some of the scrolling has been formed into letters running along the backrest.
PleaseD.
It’s like the girl’s drawing attention to the fact that she agrees with Joel that, somehow, I’m responsible for everything that’s happened to us.
That I’m pleased with myself for what I’ve accomplished.
She jumps off the bench, revealing that she had been unintentionally hiding letters that had run behind her back.
PleaseDream.
The girl points back along the line Joel had taken as he’d sternly strode off towards the exit.
In the distance, the flowers are burgeoning once more.
Reaching up for the clouds.
Flowering in a multitude of the very brightest colours.
Joel!
He’s come back!
He’s forgiven me!
He loves me!
Loves me more than ever, going by the soaring blooms, the brightness and colours of the flowers.
As I had done only a short while ago, I break into yet another excited run towards him. But as I draw alongside the area of La Noi’ Tome, with its apt symbolising of writhing serpents, of Trees of Life denied us, I realise it’s not one person heading my way, but two.
It could be Joel, of course, arriving with someone else.
But that would be even worse, for the flowers erupting everywhere around them are the unmistakable signs of a couple deeply, resolutely in love.
The burgeoning blooms are so much more wondrously resplendent than anything that had flowered around Joel and myself; perhaps a sign of other, greater emotions we have yet to realise.
It’s an older couple I see, as they draw ever closer.
Holding hands.
As they always do, whenever they’re out together.
For I recognise them immediately.
They’re my parents.
*
Chapter 40
Hah!
Just how ridiculous could I be?
I don’t have any parents (unless you flatter my designers by calling them my mother and father!).
And, somehow, I don't think this charming couple have had anything to do with my creation.
How could someone like them be responsible for producing a girl fated to work in the Rooms of Pleasure?
As the couple continue to approach me, the girl is smiling, of course.
But it’s a warm smile, the warmest smile I’ve seen her manage; and yet, the sadness remains.
Then I see it; the similarities.
Between the girl and the woman.
The girl and, to a lesser extent, the man.
She’s their girl.
They’re her parents.
*
‘Iona?’
It's like a desperate whisper on the wind. So soft; so full of longing but also, strangely, fear.
But the voice doesn’t come from the girl; it comes from the mother.
I nod.
‘Yes…I reply uncertainly. ‘I’m Iona.’
‘We were told you were here…’ the father sighs thankfully, as if he hadn’t believed it possible that I would be.
