Nonentity (17 page)

The doors opened. He exited the lift onto the edge of a roof, overlooking an alleyway many floors below. Turning around, he saw a blue spotlight in the center of the rooftop.

Lukas Lambert marched out of that light toward the traveler. Pointing a finger, the parallel universalist said, “You took my SRF-3, you son of a bitch. I must take it back.”

The traveler reacted instinctively: “It was never yours to begin with.”

Lukas Lambert froze in place. He screamed unintelligibly. He quickly liquefied into blue slime, sinking into the rooftop’s pavement.

A green light devoured the blue. The traveler stood at the end of a lengthy hallway. A door at the opposite end opened and closed continuously. Curious as to what was behind that door, he proceeded down the hall. Numerous pictures hung on the walls to his left and right. He spotted photos of his mother, his father, his brother, Lorna, Cranston Gage, Victoria Mason, and others. Distracted, he nearly crashed into the door.

The front of the door displayed an illustration of a man hanging upside down. The cartoon’s head morphed back and forth between two faces, Lukas Lambert’s and Randolph Doppelganger’s. Above the constantly changing image was a nameplate: Lambert Lukas, Single Dimensionalist. The traveler looked down at a welcome mat:
ALL Visitors Welcome
.

He knocked on the door; no response. On his second try the door dissolved. An immense blackness lay before him. He hesitated.

“Through the darkness you came here,” the old man from the elevator called out. “And through the darkness you shall know the light.”

The traveler walked blindly, struggling through heavy air. Euphoria overcame him. The air lightened and he advanced more freely. An aura of love guided him.

A green light manifested. There stood Randolph Doppelganger, a red headpiece – the SRF-3 – in his right hand.

Doppelganger said, “You have known me by a pseudonym. Here you meet my authentic self: Lambert Lukas. Turned backwards, Lukas Lambert’s falsehoods are truths. One truth is that you and I are now single dimensionalists. Any questions?”

The traveler reflected. “In a prior existence, your home had a welcome mat that excluded a reality thief named Jack. The mat now welcomes all. Does that include Jack?”

“It is unnecessary to exclude one who has no access.”

“Who is Jack?”

“He is a concept that belongs to a lesser world,” said Lambert Lukas. “Your reality is untouchable here. Jack’s wickedness cannot negotiate this domain.”

“Someone told me that Jack wins in the end. He repeated that phrase over and over.”

“The person who told you that was mistaken. You win in the end.”

There was a pause before the traveler said, “That SRF-3 you have there, you know, that’s the property of Lukas Lambert.”

“Not true. Recall what you said to Mr. Lambert: ‘It was never yours to begin with.’ In fact, this SRF-3 is not even a device. SRF-3 is you. It is your visions, your insights, most importantly, your love. Take it now and fully harness its reality-generating power.” Lambert Lukas handed the SRF-3 to the traveler. “Put it on. Flip the switch on the left.”

The traveler placed the SRF-3 over his head. As he flipped the switch, a blue blotch overtook his sight. The blotch turned green before fading to black.

Fire blasted through a door looming in the night sky. The magnificent voice from the hourglass thundered: “Lambert Lukas was wrong. Your reality is not untouchable.”

The flame extinguished. The door remained, illuminated by a green glow. A winding set of stairs, seemingly miles long, unfolded from the door, extending to the traveler’s feet. He ascended the steps. Halfway to his destination, he looked down and saw a violent green ocean below. Exploding waters swayed the steps. He barely sustained his balance.

A silhouetted figure appeared in the doorway, standing tall at the top step. The figure gently said, “You are safe.” The traveler recognized the voice as his father’s.

The ocean below calmed. The traveler fearlessly completed his climb.

Reaching the top step, he said to his father, “During my human life, I once saw you in a similar door, while I was in a trance.”

“The trance is over. I am real. You are real. This is your ultimate reality.”

The father put an arm around the son. They walked through the door together.

****

“Sebastian – wake up.”

The female voice was familiar. It conjured up a distant past. Opening his eyes, the traveler’s sight was too blurred to identify the speaker.

“Worry not,” said the woman. “It’ll take a moment to collect yourself.”

The vision-impaired traveler sat up. He tried to shake his head clear. “Where am I?”

“Where you should be.”

“What does that mean?”

The woman said, “You once lost the chance to reconcile with me. Here you get it back. Oh Sebastian, what a dream this is.”

Those hopeful words indicated their source: the traveler’s mother. He regained normal sight. Sitting next to him, his mother looked stunning. His most vivid recollection of her was near the end of her human life, when her vacant stare and slumped body dissuaded him from visiting her. She was much different now. Her gray hair was its original brownish-red. The wrinkles had left her face. A serene smile capped her recovered beauty.

Mother and son sat on a balcony floor overlooking a beach of white sand. The sun radiated optimism. A pleasant breeze articulated the setting’s peace.

The traveler’s mother said, “I have known those sands. I drowned in them. Didn’t we all? The ticking clock was often our worst enemy.”

“But that clock is not an enemy here, right?” said the traveler.

“Time dies so that we can live. I mean, really live. You and I ran out of time as humans. You blamed yourself for that. I never blamed you. The so-called past is not important. My son has returned to me. That is what counts.”

“Mom, I really messed up. I should have been there for you. I didn’t …”

“What happened elsewhere is irrelevant. You and I begin anew – a clean slate.”

She hugged him. Her caress slayed demons.

Releasing him, she took his hand and said, “Come inside with me.”

She led him off the balcony, through sliding glass doors, into a lavish dining room. On a cedarwood table were antique plates and wine glasses sparkling in the gleam of a spectacular chandelier. Someone sat at the end of the table furthest from the traveler. The seated person’s face hid behind a newspaper. Two front page headlines intrigued the traveler: “Lambert Lukas’s
Internal Interpretations
Bestseller in the Void,” and “Jack Lives.”

“Hello, Sebastian,” said a man behind the newspaper. “Mother warned me that you would show up.”

The traveler recalled the voice. “Hagen?”

The person at the table set the newspaper down, revealing himself as the traveler’s younger brother. Hagen frowned. “You rapscallion! You think you’re welcome here?”

The traveler was stunned. “Well Hagen, uh, I, uh …”

“I’m just messing with you,” said Hagen. “Quit stammering and give me a hug.”

Hagen rose and approached the traveler. The brothers embraced.

Standing a few feet from the two men, their mother said, “Such a joy.”

The hug ended. The traveler darted his head around the room.

“Your father is elsewhere,” his mother said, reading her son’s mind. “Sit down with Hagen and catch up a little.”

The brothers sat at the dining table.

To the traveler Hagen said, “Curious what happened with me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you surely remember what a disaster I was in my younger days. It was worse than you realized. After I ran away from home, everything became a nightmare. I damn near took my own life. Then a friend of the family located me and told me about Dad’s murder. That seriously shook me up. It hit me: I better repair things with the loved ones who were still around. But I felt hopeless. Giving up the booze and drugs seemed a long shot. Something then happened that I hesitate to tell you about.”

The traveler sat straighter in his chair. “Don’t stop now, man. What happened?”

“Shortly after Dad’s death, I had a life-altering experience. I was so hammered I barely knew where I was. I was somewhere awful, convinced things would keep getting worse. A green light suddenly blinded me. That light absorbed the nightmare. It filled me with unbelievable strength. I understood immediately that I’d never have to get drunk or high again. I cleaned myself up and stayed clean. When I started caring for Mom, I didn’t tell you about my episode with the green light because you would’ve considered it ridiculous.”

“I would have tuned you out. You know, Hagen, I’m sorry I wasn’t a better brother to you. You were so great to Mom and I, uh, I was just pathetic. I’m ashamed.”

Hagen placed a hand on one of the traveler’s forearms. “Sebastian, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. We were brothers, man. I neglected you. I …”

“We’re still brothers. Leave the past in the past. Otherwise, it is baggage that prevents you from choosing your own reality.”

Silence followed. Hagen leaned back in his chair. The traveler stared off.

Hagen said, “Hopefully you’re already releasing that baggage.”

“Your forgiveness helps. What happened to you after Mom died?”

“Lawrence Alister was right. I became an underground radical. I learned what the Permanent Regime did to Dad. They didn’t just kill the man; they denied me the opportunity to make amends. Dad was more important to me in death than life. I sought revenge.”

“Of course. How else could you have reacted?”

“I could have reevaluated my motives,” Hagen said. “Revenge ruins judgment. All my fighting back was worthless. The Regime was as indestructible as advertised.”

“I fought too. I felt I owed it to Lorna. Alister said you knew her.”

“Not well. She steered clear of the underground. She had a peace that most of us lacked.”

“Yet she took the most dangerous risk of all,” said the traveler.

“You and I got evaporated the same as she. So our risks proved no less dangerous than hers. Lorna tried to make a positive difference. The rest of us barked at the moon.”

“Any idea why she didn’t tell me she knew you?”

“Not really. I told her you probably thought poorly of me.”

The traveler winced. “Ah man. That’s terrible. I was the one who wasn’t there when Mom needed me most. I didn’t …”

“Sebastian – let it go.”

“I don’t deserve to let it go.”

“Guilt is an obstacle to fulfillment. The difficulty of letting go is an illusion. Holding on is what takes energy. Being here enables you to detach.”

Their mother stepped forward. “It’s wonderful that you two had this talk. I hate to cut it short, but I must show Sebastian something. Please come with me.”

Hagen shook his brother’s hand. “Thank you, Sebastian. This was fantastic.”

The traveler could only nod in agreement, too moved to speak.

The traveler’s mother took him by the hand and he left with her. Entering a hallway adjacent to the dining room, he looked back at the table; Hagen was gone.

Mother and son walked past a kitchen where a pot of green stew boiled on a stove. They went through a comfortable living room. Family photos graced the walls.

They came to a door in a hallway outside the living room. The traveler’s mother opened that door and said, “Please go in.” She departed.

He stepped into his childhood bedroom. It was immaculate, everything cleaner than he remembered. Movie posters decorated the walls. On his old nightstand was a copy of
Internal Interpretations
by Lambert Lukas. A handwritten note was taped to the book’s front cover:

Your ultimate reality is close. Look to the closet in this room.

Your friend,

Lambert Lukas (a.k.a., Randolph Doppelganger)

The closet door was shut. It displayed a life-sized photograph of the dark-haired little girl with the piercing green eyes. Beside her was the green-bearded man holding his ax.

The little girl in the photo winked and said, “Only by dropping the baggage that weighs you down can you unlock the doors you will encounter.”

“The distinction between reality and illusion is your choice,” said the green-bearded man.

With a snap of the little girl’s fingers, the man and his ax disappeared. She stepped out of the photo, off the closet door, into the room. She hugged the traveler.

“How did you climb out of that picture?” he said.

“The boundaries of your previous existence no longer apply. Neither do the pains and regrets. I am counting on you to surrender them this instant.”

“Why does it concern you?”

The little girl said, “My older self has wed her reality to yours. A mutual reality requires cooperation. Deny yourself maximum enlightenment and you deny my older self as well.”

“How do I drop my baggage?”

“Use this mantra: ‘I release myself from everything within that blocks my progress.’ Repeat those words until your new reality actualizes. My older self awaits.”