Jade Prophet

by Sam Abraham

  “The Image of Fire,” he began, quoting the text of the I Ching associated with the thirtieth hexagram. “Explain to our children that anything giving light draws from a source so that it may shine. Fire is the middle daughter, drawing light from our ancestors and passing it on to future generations. As your Younger Brother drew divinity from the Father and became the Holy Spirit, we too find ourselves in between the forces of past and future. This, oh Lady in the Moon, will help us stay true to our path.”

  Li smiled warmly, and many around her took it as a blessing. The words of the I Ching resonated in her mind, echoing somehow the hologram of her mother’s head that she remembered from long ago. “You speak well,” she said, and heard her own rhythmic breath, in and out, like a swinging door letting in the world.

  Then she spread her arms and said, “My brothers and sisters, the time has come for me to leave.”

  Gasps and wails leapt from the crowd, but Li held out her hands. “Fear not,” she cried out, “I will return! After we brought our message to Nanjing, my father came to me in a vision, and asked me to return to Heaven, to rejoin Christ and our divine family. I will meditate in His presence, so that I may bring enlightenment back to this City of Heaven on Earth. And when I do, we will be free of suffering forever! Can I ask your help to care for our earthly paradise while I am in Heaven?”

  Li heard the cries of hallelujah and saw the outstretched arms. Even Xie’s eyes were wide, she saw, his mouth moving in prayer. Only Shen was visibly angry. Well, let him be sore, she thought. I have made my choice.

  “Before I depart for my sojourn in Heaven," Li continued, "I want to share a revelation,” and at this the crowd grew hushed. “Hold it in your hearts while I am gone and know that I am with you in spirit. It came to me as I was living in a cave, contemplating dreams in which I became aware that I was the incarnation of Chang’e. Now, with Brother Sun’s reading of the Oracle, I know it cannot be a coincidence.

  “Faith is belief without fact,” she said, walking across the amphitheater stage, meeting the eyes of pilgrims, “but knowledge is belief based on fact, on empirical observation. As such, faith in God is lacking next to knowledge of God, because faith makes God an ‘other’, preventing us from direct experience of divinity. This is why many religions preach faith, for it positions them as middlemen to the truth, just as bankers come between farmers and their livelihood. But how can mortal men come between us and God without our complicity? We are all made in the divine image.

  “Surely,” she went on, her inner light guiding, “Our ability to eat and drink, to sustain our bodies by transforming energy, is empirical evidence that we are built from the same essence as the universe. If we recognize God as the essence of the universe, and that the energy of the universe is the essence of ourselves, then knowledge of God requires only the experience of one’s self.

  “And yet,” she laughed, “Union with God can seem far from our daily struggle! In our world obsessed with duality – man against woman, rich against poor - unity is elusive. Even our concept of the number one is defined by its contrast to zero, and then we have two. But if we consider that extremes by definition create a middle path, we can find our way out of duality and antagonism, and back to God.

  “When we feel far from the divine, all we need to do is seek a symbol of God that represents unity. This,” she said, turning to Sun, “is the beauty of the I Ching. This framework based on broken and unbroken lines, which foretell the transformation of the self, the state, and the world, is a mirror into our search for unity with God in a fragmented world. But symbols are just images, as empty as the air without us to imbue substance upon them. Any token of our choosing can bring us illumination. We might even find Heaven in a crust of bread, salvation in a sip of water, for as we consume them they nourish us and their energy becomes us.

  “And once we realize that the power to unify with God is within us, we may let go entirely of our need for symbols.” Li paused, savoring the silence, watching her soul shine out upon her flock. “See God without seeing. Breathe the breath of God without breathing. And in letting go, effortlessly walk the hidden paths of our own divinity. These are easy, even trite, words to say. But when we see the light of this truth, it cannot be unseen. It lives at the center of our being, so that we may transcend our frail human nature.”

  Then she looked up to the sky, and said, “We have seen miracles together, my brothers and sisters, of that there can be no doubt. So, let us now have Communion, and find illumination in ourselves.”

  The priests of the order bowed as the bandit Sun mumbled words from the I Ching and the Book of Revelations. He passed bowls of longshui to his priests, who went to lines of the hungry, the weak, the old and the infirm, and placed the wafers on their tongues, and blessed them with the body of Chang’e.

  And like his Jade brothers and sisters, the man called Han accepted his wafers gladly, bowed and left the amphitheater, walking with other pilgrims to a great turquoise pool of sulfuric water that had been piped in between the occuhives. Piously, Han drank from the brimstone, looking up to a reflection of hundreds of his brothers and sisters bowing in peace.

  With his belly full of high-energy molecules, he retreated to a flat he shared with seven others and lay upon a dirty pallet, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as the virus transformed his cells. And he knew that the old felt young, and the ill felt cured, remade in the fire of chemical energy. All who had taken Communion, who had eaten of the body of Chang’e, felt more than saved. They felt invincible.

  ***

  When the ceremony was complete, Li found her way to the penthouse she had taken as headquarters, and saw Shen waiting for her.

  Shen gave Li a paternalistic frown. “First you go into Nanjing against my guidance, then you don’t use the speech I prepared for your address? What’s come over you?”

  Li lay on a couch under wide windows. “Stop whining, Laoshi," Li said. "I gave a sermon from the heart. With enough longshui, in time even mighty Nanjing will come into the light without blood. We will simply give them Communion and the people will know the truth.”

  “Even if your stunt in Nanjing did not alert the Centrists to our plan,” Shen said gruffly, “after the ritual tonight we have barely any longshui left. The batch we were supposed to receive days ago never came. No one can reach Yang.” Then he paused, concerned. “Why did you tell our army that your Father was coming for you?”

  “I meant to loop you in,” Li said. “I found a holodrone here after we returned from Nanjing. He is coming for me tomorrow at dawn.”

  “Did he say why he was coming now, after I had tried to contact him repeatedly?” Shen said, nervous at how his command continued to unravel.

  “He was...displeased that I went to Nanjing.”

  Shen said, “See, I told you! He —“

  “And I told him,” Li interrupted quietly, her voice compelling her teacher to listen, “that it was hypocrisy to keep salvation from millions in the cities merely because they’re under Centrist control.” She stood, impassioned. “Laoshi, I was one of those people when you found me. Suffering. Alone. Afraid. I will not horde our miracles in the Ghost Lands when we can bring light to all.”

  “Then why go to him,” Shen grumbled, “if you are so unwilling to follow his orders?”

  Li looked out at distant lights. “He’s still my father. I spent my whole life dreaming about him and my mother. Now we will be together. We will talk, figure things out, and I will return with his blessing to make our legion of Jade ten times as strong.” Her teacher started to speak but Li held up her hand. “Listen, Laoshi,” she said, “when I’m gone, Xie is in charge.”

  Shen fumed. “Now Aizhu—“

  “Captain Shen,” Li said firmly, reminding her teacher of his rank. “You retain command over the army, Sun will preside over the rituals, and Xie will have overall command of the people and both of you until I return. I am the prophet of the Lady in the Moon, and I have made my decision.”


  Shen was about to speak when Xie entered the room. “Ah, Captain Xie,” Li said. “Thank you for coming. You may leave now, Laoshi.”

  Shen looked at Li with great melancholy and said, “Is this a game to you, that you elevate your toy over your teacher?”

  “Xie saw the storm coming before it broke,” she said, “Unlike you, Laoshi.”

  Chapter 32 – Heng (恆)

  Thunder And Wind

  Hours later, Li ran her fingers over silk sheets and Xie’s smooth chest. He lay with his arms around her, looking at her with his good eye. The balcony doors were open, letting in a panoramic view of Nanjing at dawn, its towers clustered below the hilltop forest, its lights dim in the orange sky.

  “Talk to me,” Xie said. “I worry about you.”

  Li lay her head on his chest. “Don’t worry. Have you forgotten that your lover is a goddess?”

  “Perhaps she forgets that though divine, she is flesh,” he whispered, “and can still be hurt.”

  “No risk of that now,” Li said quietly. “My father is coming for me.”

  “Your biological father? Or almighty God?” Xie said. “When we met, you tried to tell me who you were, and I didn’t have the heart to listen. But I’m listening now.”

  “Do you trust me, Baotian?” Li asked, closing her eyes. “Do you love me, as I love you?”

  Xie caught his breath. “Of course,” he said. And then, “Do you really? Love me, I mean?”

  “Like the bright moon,” she said, holding him tighter. “I want to trust you, Xie. I need your help. But if you knew my secret, perhaps you would start to see me as less than a goddess.”

  He put his hand to his heart. “I swear that I will always worship you. Trust me to keep your secrets.”

  Li turned away. “The Holy Communion is the same substance from the tents. It is called longshui, a kind of vaccine against hunger that transforms any who consume it.”

  “What are you saying?” Xie said, “The revelation of Chang’e could have saved my family?” He recoiled in realization. “It can save millions. Hundreds of millions. We have to tell people!”

  “It’s not that simple,” Li shook her head. “There is limited supply. We’re already running low. And the very existence of longshui threatens the Centrists, the River Syndicate, anyone in power. If people knew the truth, they would scorch the earth to destroy us. We need to keep it a secret for now.”

  She slipped out of bed, pulled on her white dress and walked out to the rooftop terrace. Xie followed her and looked over the edge. Tiny hydrocycles and people the size of ants crawled along fifty stories below. The wind was strong, and it was all he could do to hold his balance. “We have to deceive the righteous?” he asked, facing his horrifying guilt. “They believe in you.”

  Li watched the distant mantiscraft drifting over downtown, and felt weak at the thought of being alone. She wanted to tell him about her mother, about the deal with her father, but she worried about what he would do. “I promised you Heaven on earth. I am going to secure our supply of longshui, and I swear that when I return, you and I will create a paradise where none ever need know fear.”

  “How do I know there aren’t other secrets you’ve kept from me?”

  “You’ll just have to trust me, Baotian. You know everything that matters. When I return, I promise that you can ask me anything you wish, and I will hide nothing from you.” As the mantiscraft came to hover overhead, Li turned to him with desperate eyes. “Now promise me something,” she said. “Keep the Jade together while I am gone. Sun is too greedy, Shen too selfish. Only you are pure.”

  “What can I do without longshui to keep the people strong?”

  “What is revelation but a story?” Li said, taking his hands in hers. “All religions at their core are myths for people to live together and feel safe in a world of unknowns. Myths, and rituals to reinforce their symbolism. The only difference is that the myth of the Jade is real. In time we will tell people everything, when we are ready. Until then, promise me that you will keep the myth alive.”

  She pulled him close, and Xie sank into her, wanting to believe in her with all his heart. When she kissed him, he closed his eyes, relishing the touch of her soft lips. He barely felt her slip away, barely felt the sweeping wind. When his eyes opened again she was gone, and the metal mantiscraft that had taken her was small against the clouds.

  Part 3: Young Yin

  Chapter 33 - Dun (遯)

  Yellow Oxhide

  Eli Warner emerged from the metro in the Shanghai shopping district of Xintiandi, near the former French Concession. Parks were clogged with people rushing home as skyscrapers mirrored the evening sun. Under the ventilation domes, in lush gardens, retirees in track suits practiced qi gong, and holos hawked everything from hair pin packages to European getaways.

  Eli wanted to go to them, to the young mother with toddlers in yellow coats, or the teenage boys who asked to take his picture, or the elderly grandpa smoking on a bench. He wanted to whisper into their ears that the game was rigged. To tell them the same story he had told himself for four years, about larger forces and the global balance of power. The story that it was worth a few deaths to improve the lives of millions. Instead, he forced himself to ignore their faces. They ignored him too, despite the bouquet of daisies in his hands. His type was common enough in Shanghai. His blond hair and blue suit merely marked him as just another Westerner making good.

  He saw Zoe waving at him, her pink dress contrasting the gray stone of Xindiandi. “I understand that it’s someone’s birthday,” Eli said as he joined her. He handed her the flowers, which she inhaled deeply, the yellow bulbs splaying across her tan cheeks.

  Eli and Zoe strolled hand-in-hand down tree-lined streets, the abrasive city hidden by greens. They meandered around maze gardens and malls selling blue tea, xiaolongbao, stinky fruit and other endless material utopias before approaching the Sinan Mansions. Hidden from the scurrying proletariat, one of the Mansions, a red tile manor, peeked through a maple grove. Eli and Zoe made their way toward the wide oak door, which a butler in white gloves opened for them. “Welcome,” the butler said. “You are the Warner party?”

  Eli nodded and the man led them through rooms filled with crystal antiques, porcelain dishware, silver and turquoise stained glass. They were brought to a private room, where they changed into fluffy robes and talked softly and kissed and sipped champagne that had been laid on ice. Soon, a door on the opposite wall opened, and two women in floral uniforms beckoned them forward. The room was filled with candlelight, jasmine and lavender, pools with floating flower petals. Letting his robe fall to the floor, Eli lay on the massage table, and as the masseuse kneaded the tension from the muscles he floated away, forgetting his troubles.

  Later, a town car shuttled them from the Mansions back into the bustling city. Eli and Zoe were silent, holding hands, as the crystal megamalls near the Bund rose around them, abutting the west bank of the Huangpu. Neon holoads painted the sky above the pleasure barges cruising along the river, touting every consumer dream from robot vacuums to virtual islands. This electric blanket of commercialism was broken only by the black tower that rose above all else. The Tiger’s Den was an onyx monolith, negative space in a neon sea, as if the Mayor’s station had no need of Pudong’s radiant dance.

  Eli and Zoe hopped out of the car in front of the Peace Hotel, a Shanghai institution which had stood for two centuries. Some years ago, a back-room deal had granted all the air above the hotel to a developer. Now, behind the hotel’s stone edifice, an emerald marketplace stood thirty stories high.

  As they caught a lift and the glass car rose, Eli looked out at families watching light displays and koi fountains, blissfully unaware that their world was traded behind closed doors.

  On the thirtieth floor, Eli and Zoe found a sprawling eatery featuring cuisines from every continent. With sushi, dim sum, bratwurst, carnitas, falafel, biltong, and masala, one could eat around the world in Peace Tower’s restaurants. Af
ter weeks of shrimp paste and tofu in the Ghost Lands, they opted for Brazilian barbecue, and grabbed a table by the windows. As they ordered, they gazed beyond the tempered glass at the sea of light stretching in every direction. A small black ribbon carved the city in two, where the Huangpu River split Puxi from Pudong. Aside from the slender shadows formed by the River and the Tiger’s Den, their view was a sea of rainbow patterns blinking across a lake of earthbound stars.

  When their cocktails came, Eli raised his glass. “To the rest of our lives,” he said.

  “Thank you for this,” Zoe said, relishing the lime, lychee and cachaca of a Shanghai-style caipirinha. “It’s been an amazing day. I mean, the Sinan Mansions?” she laughed. “I thought they only let Centrist officials and Bollywood stars in there. How were you able to swing that?”

  “Well, I did borrow from my future earnings,” Eli said quietly, “A bit of a splurge, perhaps.”

  Zoe noticed his melancholy. “Is something wrong?” she said.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you. There’s been a hiccup.”

  “A hiccup?” Zoe said, setting her glass down. “You mean a problem.”

  “Dr. Yang was supposed to be in Shanghai weeks ago,” Eli whispered. “My company, ORS, is expecting the longshui to be the biggest disruption in energy storage in a century. That’s why they’re buying it. But Yang is part of the deal. His signing bonus is a chunk of the two hundred thirty billion Yuan, and the deal won’t close without him. Based on his GPS implant, he hasn’t left the Ghost Lands, and no one knows why.”

  Zoe was thoughtful. “Should you call off the buy?”

  Eli stared at her, recalling years mired in secrets, in a city that was nothing like what he remembered as a child. The memory of his mother’s death suddenly came to him. Two years earlier, shortly before she had died, his parents had moved back to the States. Eli remembered getting the call, hearing the grief in his father’s choking voice as he begged Eli to attend the funeral, to be close to family. Eli remembered telling his father that leaving Shanghai was impossible, that a deal was being born there that would cement their legacy. Eli remembered his father’s disbelief and disappointment, that he would choose money over family. And he remembered the visceral need to prove that he was right. That it was worth the sacrifice.