Nonentity (18 page)

The little girl opened the closet door. She passed through it and vanished, leaving the door ajar – prodding the traveler to proceed further.

He chanted, “I release myself from everything within that blocks my progress. I release myself from everything within that blocks my progress. I release myself …”

On his seventy-eighth utterance, an enormous whirlwind whipped up. An invisible force vacuumed all the room’s objects, including the traveler, through the closet door. He descended to the floor of a green ocean. A couple yards away was a free-floating door, hovering a few feet off the ground. There was a sign on the door: INFINITY IN REVERSE. The traveler swam to the door, opened it, and exited the waters.

He reentered the green-lit receptionist’s lobby of the castle. On the lengthy couch to his right sat his mother, father, and brother. The three of them talked and laughed, though the sounds of their exchange were muted. They did not see the traveler.

The receptionist continued banging her head against her desk. Halting her masochism, she morphed into a smiling Randolph Doppelganger/Lambert Lukas.

The elevator on the wall opposite the couch chimed. The lift’s doors opened.

Lambert Lukas said, “A final trip remains, Sebastian. The only way out is up.”

The traveler walked into the elevator cart; it contained no floor. He fell through the hole into a vast darkness.

Eyes opened.

Through an upstairs window the scene outside was a maze-like park. Its lanes consisted of shrubbery sculpted into ambiguous symbols. At the park’s hub stood an enormous fountain spraying water skyward. A postcard from paradise.

Eyes at the window observed a man and woman strolling through the park together. The woman was likely in her early fifties. She was attractive, dark hair and pouty lips, green eyes making an impression from afar. I’ve seen her before, thought the traveler. But who is she?

Her companion was the traveler. The traveler at the window stared at himself walking through the park. The traveler in the park glanced up and eyed his twin at the window. Which was the real one? Was either real?

A smooth hand brushed the face of the traveler at the window. Without looking, he surmised the bearer of that touch: Lorna. He forgot about the park, and the people in it.

He lay naked beneath a satin sheet luxuriant and shiny. The bed was more comfortable than any he had known. Everything in the bedroom was made of solid gold. Cleanliness and good order defined the setting.

“Oh Sebastian,” Lorna said, ecstatic.

The traveler turned to face her. Had her beauty increased? His reflection in her eyes suggested an eternal unity between the two characters. He was awed.

“What’s the matter?” she said.

“Uh, nothing. I’m, uh, I’m stunned.”

“What stuns you?”

The traveler said, “You stun me. I can’t believe you’re in bed with me.”

“Isn’t it normal for a husband and wife to share a bed?”

“Husband and wife? You’re kidding. When did we get married?”

She laughed. “Yesterday. Our wedding must not have been very memorable.”

“I remember none of it.”

“Temporary amnesia. Sometimes people blackout when they cross into the void. That’s probably what happened to you. I hope this is the reality you want.”

“Of course,” said the traveler. “I’m just shocked. I mean, this is truly wild.”

Lorna rubbed a hand up his left leg. “It could get wilder. Make love to me. Make love to me with the same vigor from last night.”

“Last night?”

“Did you forget that as well?”

“Apparently. I wish I remembered it. This is unbelievable. I never …”

She placed a finger on his lips. “Shh. Get physical, not verbal.”

She kissed him under the neck and stroked his phallus. He kissed her repeatedly, moving his hands along her bare body. She shifted on top of him. He grabbed her rear end and plunged into her. His sexual stamina far exceeded that of his Earthly self. The intercourse lasted hours. She climaxed several times. As he neared his own orgasm, she looked away. The traveler followed her gaze. Another replica of himself stood in a corner, watching the sex intently. The lovemaking traveler ignored that peculiarity. His carnal fluids exploded out of him. Lorna fell softly upon his chest. Both were exhausted.

The traveler peered at the corner where his duplicate had been. The duplicate was gone.

After a silence, Lorna said, “Any idea what I thought the first time we met?”

“I don’t know. Probably that I was a daft character.”

She smiled. “Not exactly. You were a character, though. I was too.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, due to our society’s conditions, we didn’t control our stories. I sought to choose my own reality. I wanted to be the author. That was a challenge on Earth. Too many rules, too much power lust, not enough independent thought. Those problems don’t exist here. Our immateriality gives us total freedom.”

“But how can we be immaterial? I mean, after the sex we just had, I feel like we’re
more material
here.”

“Loss of the physical heightens perceptual intensity,” she said. “Experience becomes more visceral. The material is restrictive; the nonentity erases the restraints. Our lovemaking was purely a matter of perception, yet surpassed what we could’ve done on Earth.”

“Somebody told me that there are no nonentities. Was he wrong?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how one defines ‘nonentity.’ Does one need a physical body to qualify as a genuine entity? Does the ability to perceive by itself constitute existence?”

The traveler shrugged his immaterial shoulders. “You just froze my brain – a brain I don’t have. Philosophical enigmas are endless. How did we get onto this tangent?”

“It started when I mentioned the first time we met.”

“Right. You didn’t tell me what you thought back then.”

“It was more what I foresaw than what I thought. It was weird. Shortly after we met, I had a vision of us in this bed, in this room. I tried not to overthink it. I mean, you know about the kooky hallucinations my father had. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, right?”

“Not typically. It’s interesting you mention your father. Did you know that his true identity is Lambert Lukas, single dimensionalist?”

“Not until I came here. I didn’t know my own true identity before I was here. Did you know yours?”

The traveler considered it. “I guess not.”

Lorna laughed. “You should never guess unless you fully understand the question.”

“How original. The person who first said that to me was your parallel universalist friend, Lukas Lambert. I have reason to believe that Lukas was a fraud.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Fraud is willful. A person must realize that he is a fraud to be one. If the parallel universalist was innocently mistaken about himself and his powers, wouldn’t it be unfair to classify him in such a way?”

“Good question,” the traveler said. “Maybe he wasn’t a fraud per se, but what was he then?”

“He was what my father called him, a ‘gatekeeper.’”

“Lukas Lambert rejected that. He claimed to be ‘the gate.’”

She laughed. “Well, his awkwardness was no match for his hubris. He meant well.”

“Is parallel universalism a trick?”

“Yes. The one it tricked most was the parallel universalist. You see, Lukas Lambert had access to otherworldly alleyways, yet did not understand those alleyways. He showed people
true
things in
false
lights. Proper grasp of context was beyond him.”

“Did you know that when you introduced me to him?”

“No,” she said. “I mean, I suspected that he wasn’t as profound as he wanted me to believe. A lot of people are like that. I was like that. I always wanted you to believe that I had untouchable peace of mind. You bought it! I apologize for misleading you.”

“No apology necessary.”

“I should apologize to myself.”

“Why?” he said.

“When we project inaccurate or exaggerated self-images, we undermine ourselves. My chosen reality compels me to abandon distorted self-projections. Here, where perception reigns, we can abandon our projections together. What do you think?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You and I never explored our love while on Earth. Even if we had, we would’ve run up against each other’s projections, our masks. Here the masks are off. It’s a paradox: by losing our materiality, we gain our true selves. I don’t want to love your projections; I want to love you. And I don’t want you to love my projections; I want you to love me.”

“You’re making my nonexistent head spin,” said he. “I get your basic drift.”

“Good. I’m going to leave you to meditate on that for a while.” She pushed the satin sheet away, rising from the bed.

The traveler said, “Hold on. Where are you going?”

“To the kitchen. I’m going to fix us some breakfast.”

“Breakfast? How is that possible in an immaterial realm?”

“Allow me to rephrase: I will imagine us some breakfast.”

“How will we eat it?”

She giggled melodically. “We’ll imagine we’re eating it. What would you like?”

“Surprise me.”

Lorna giggled again and went toward a closet across the way. The traveler wished for her to slow down so he could savor her naked movements. She thereby morphed into slow-motion. Her breasts bounced up and down at an arousing pace. He wished to make love to her once more. She stopped and zipped back into bed with him. The second round of sex was as thrilling as the first. When it was over, she instantly resumed her spot at the time of the traveler’s wish for lovemaking. Her trot toward the closet continued in slow-motion. The traveler wished a normal pace for her. She entered the closet, put on a green robe, walked to the door, and left.

A huge television made of gold hung on the wall opposite the bed. The traveler imagined a remote control; it materialized in his hand. He turned the TV on.

A commercial for sunglasses played. Modeling the merchandise was a young man in a t-shirt that kept changing colors. The ad’s voiceover declared: “For the latest in both fashion and perception – Retro-Specs! This isn’t just any pair of shades you might wear to the beach on a sunny day. This state-of-the-art innovation in sleek, sporty eyewear enables you to access any moment from your previous existence. Tired of the monotonous utopian scenery in the void? Fed up with all the humdrum peace, love, and freedom? Let Retro-Specs return you to a bygone world of tragedy, discord, and doom. It’ll be like you never left. And if you’re not satisfied with your purchase within thirty days, you’ll get your money back along with two brand-new pairs. That’s how confident we are in this product. All you have to do to start living in the past is pick up the phone. Call the number on your screen in the next hour and receive a special fifty-percent discount. Retro-Specs: recapturing those lost memories. Retro-Specs is a registered trademark of Nostalgia Unlimited, the undisputed leader in reminiscence merchandise.”

Next came a black-and-white film titled
Time Gashes
. The protagonist of
Time Gashes
was Warren Selk, a handsome man of about thirty. Selk was a writer who awoke one morning two years into the future. He found himself in a whirlwind romance with a dreamy blonde named Marie, a stranger before his unexplained time leap. Selk proceeded through life in reverse, from yesterday to yesterday. Through two years he eventually came to the day he leapt forward, the same day he first encountered Marie. A sample of the dialogue:

Marie:
Warren, I know it’s cliché, but do you believe in fate?

Selk:
No. I mean, that’s not something I can answer. Fate strikes me as an abstraction. Whether abstractions literally exist or not, beats me.

Marie:
Think about how you and I met – at a party where we never found out why we were there or who the guest of honor was. That seems fateful.

Selk:
From a certain perspective perhaps.

As the closing credits of
Time Gashes
rolled, Lorna called up the stairs, “Sebastian, breakfast is ready.”

The traveler imagined himself wearing flannel pajamas. He left the bedroom, walking through the door and unexpectedly entering the kitchen. The kitchen’s surroundings were also made of gold. Lorna stood in the middle of the room. On a massive counter next to her was a spread of bacon, eggs, sausage, ham, biscuits, waffles, etc.

The traveler said, “I, uh, I thought the kitchen was downstairs, below the bedroom. When you just called to me, it sounded like you were downstairs.”

“We are downstairs,” said Lorna.

“Then how did I walk from the bedroom directly into the kitchen?”

“You must have speed-traveled.”

“Come again.”

She laughed. “Your perception hit the gas pedal. If your perception knows where you’re going, it can skip steps. Used to happen to me a lot. I enjoy walking, though. I had to master accelerations in perception. Now they only occur when I want them. Cool, huh?”

“Weird is more like it.”

“At first. How about this breakfast I imagined for you?”

“Looks scrumptious,” the traveler said. “Can’t wait to dig in.”

“Let’s go to the dining room.”

Without moving, the two manifested in the dining room where the traveler had spoken with his brother. The traveler sat again at the cedarwood table. He attacked Lorna’s food. The buffet was so tasty that he devoured it within a couple minutes.

Leaning back in his chair, he said to his wife, “I just ate enough food for ten people and I don’t feel the least bit full. I should be ready to burst.”

“You subconsciously wish to stay hungry so you can eat more. Your wish is your perception’s command. Since everything is immaterial, you’ll never put on extra weight, unless you want to. Should I imagine more food for you?”

“Certainly. Forget breakfast this time. How about some fillet mignon along with mashed potatoes and a hearty salad?”

“No problem.”

A mad process unfolded. Lorna imagined meal after meal that the traveler desired. He quickly consumed each. A half a dozen meals later, he called it quits.