Unison (The Spheral) (56 page)

Michael never told the man with the horse about Littlefield, so this one change probably prevented the invasion. Shisa died seven years after my return from Middle Crest, and I never got another dog. I read about an Ancient Yogi who spoke of an amulet that materialized in his mother’s hands while she was meditating. She passed it down to him, and he was told that once the amulet helped him fulfill his destiny, it would disappear. I interpreted Shisa’s parting similarly. I gave up my material possessions and my need to be admired. Whatever parts of me remained were all I required.

Michael graduated from the Athenian Music Conservatory with the highest honors. He went on to compose an opera that was performed for three seasons. It became part of the New Athenian repertoire and was one of the featured operas during the summer festival. In the remaining span of my life, Michael went on to write six more operas and built up a large catalog of orchestral pieces. For every performance where I was present, I couldn’t help but announce to whomever was seated nearby, “That’s my son.”

I returned to New Athenia annually to visit Michael and his family, and I spent the rest of my time back at the cabin. As the years moved forward, I continued to live quietly, tending to my hens and garden and taking long walks. I was still fit enough for transports until the day I died. In my eighty-first year, Sutara came to me in my dreams and held my hand.

“Remember,” she said.

“What?”

“The earthquake—how I made things change when I was still only a child.”

“You stopped to listen to the sound of the animals.”

Sutara smiled. “Listen, and you too will hear.”

I closed my eyes after I took my last breath and merged with the fountain of light. Together we exploded into an infinite brilliance, bringing a close to my sixth incarnation.

NATURAL MAN

SEVENTH INCARNATION

W
ade marched around the edge of the ridge, and I crept towards him as I had in my past six incarnations. “This is about Nasia?” I asked with the vivid recollection of having said that before.

“It’s always about Nasia,” Wade said. “No, that’s not true. It’s about me being a coward.”

“What happened to her was her own—” I clutched my forehead as a wave of vertigo overpowered me. Memories of all my past lives swarmed into my consciousness. “I remember,” I said to myself. When I was fully reacquainted with my former selves, I jumped as high as I could. “I remember everything!” I laughed harder than I ever laughed before.

Wade cocked his head to the side. “What do you find so amusing about all of this?”

“I find
everything
amusing. Want to know why?”

Wade crossed his arms. “Harmony scrambled your brain and is preventing you from acting appropriately in situations that aren’t meant to be funny.”

“Wrong!” I laughed again. “Try again.”

“If this isn’t Harmony then you’re crazier than you’re always accusing me of being.”

“Would’ve agreed with you back in my third incarnation. I spent some time in the old tunnel talking to your ghost. You wouldn’t have wanted to know me back then—let alone smell me.” I gazed at Wade reflectively. He was really here…alive for longer than he’d ever been. “Thanks for being a good friend and helping me see beyond the dome.”

“Is this some new technique you’re working on again?”

“And one that actually works. I’ll tell you all about it on the way to the old tunnel.”

“How foolish do you think I am?”

“If you jump off that ridge, you’re a bigger fool than I’ve been. You’re right about Harmony. I didn’t want to believe it could be used for anything other than for the reasons I—” My holologue beeped, and I glanced at the screen. “Unity Forces are on their way. We have to leave now.”

“And go where?”

“New Athenia.”

Wade laughed and stepped back towards the ledge. “What happened to your concern about the scourge?”

“It doesn’t exist. It more than likely never did.” I walked towards the ledge, a little off to the side from where Wade stood. I tilted my head down. “That’s a far drop.”

“I’m not falling for it this time. Go ahead and jump.” Wade put his hands on his hips. “I dare you.”

“If I must. But before I leave, I should mention my vision of you dying doesn’t come from the future. They’re memories of events that have already happened. You can’t escape from the past, Wade. I tried and failed at each attempt.”

Wade gawked at me. “My god…you
believe
what you’re saying.”

“For six lifetimes I heard you tell me how Nasia crossed the old tunnel, and you didn’t go with her because you feared risking your assignment placement.”

Wade shook his head. “Nasia must have talked when Unity Forces questioned her.”

“Even if she had…how would I know about it?”

Wade shook his head. “What you’re saying is impossible.”

“Her last words to you were, ‘sleeve-worshipper.’ You were so angry, you never said goodbye to her before she left. Shortly after you told me that, you jumped off this ridge.”

Wade appeared stunned, but his eyes couldn’t hide the pain and guilt he carried with him since Nasia’s death. He placed his hands over his face. “She’s dead because of me.”

“She’s dead because of the Corporate Hierarchy, and their relentless need to control everyone.” I extended my hand towards him.

“Get out!” he yelled. “I don’t want your pity!”

I kept my hand where it was. “I’m not going to let you do this again.”

“My life isn’t yours to save.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t end your life over what the Overseer and purple sleeves have done to you. They think they own you and every Unitian. They think the only time you’re worthy of existing is when you serve them. And when you’re not subservient enough, they think they have the right to prescribe a suicide order, and serve it to you in reintegration.”

Wade stretched his eyes wider than Vivek ever had, which I thought was physically impossible.

“If you jump,
they
win!”

Wade’s competitive nature triumphed, and he ran back towards the woods.

“Where are you going?” I went after him.

“Back to Ingrid’s cabin. We have to warn her about—”

I clutched Wade’s arm. “It’s too late.”

He swung around to face me. “For what?”

My mouth froze open, and my legs quivered over learning Old Woman’s name.
Ingrid
. Had this been any other day, Wade would’ve laughed over how ridiculous I must have appeared.

He shook his head and walked away.

“Unity Forces killed her,” I said.

Wade stopped and wouldn’t look back at me. He then clenched his fists and ran off. I caught up with him by the ridge that overlooked the cabin. Unity Forces were in the process of searching the perimeter.

“Maybe next time your memory will return sooner,” Wade said without taking his eyes off the cabin.

After Wade berated and blamed me for the tragedy that befell Ingrid, we set up camp where he continued his verbal condemnation. There were many moments I wanted to challenge his view towards me. Instead, I listened, keeping my promise to Sutara to listen and do nothing. It was one of the most difficult evenings I’d ever endured. All the good I had done in my past lifetimes were overshadowed by the contempt displayed on my friend’s face. Wade hated me, but I was okay with it. At least, he was alive.

We arrived at the cabin the next morning and performed the sacred burning for Ingrid. Shisa returned, and I called out to her in my calm voice. She slowly approached with her head low. Wade, who witnessed the exchange, appeared astonished.

“Shisa accompanied me on almost every trek across the old tunnel.” I kneeled down to pet her. “She’s been there for me, always by my side—even through most of my deaths. Her actions showed me traits I’m in dire need of.”

“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” Wade said indifferently.

“I can take you to New Athenia…but I’ll be returning—”

“I don’t need an escort. I have a map.”

I stared into the simmering pyre and felt a cool breeze brush against my back. It was too soon. While I was inwardly celebrating the early return of my memory and Wade’s survival, he still saw me as the sleeve-worshipper responsible for the crackling flames that were devouring Ingrid’s flesh. In the passing of one day, Wade and I moved lifetimes apart.

After a few laps around the pyre, Shisa whimpered and sat beside me.

Wade glanced at her and then back at me. “I look at you, and I see Damon, but you’re nothing like him.”

There were many things I wanted to say in response. I’ve waited lifetimes for Wade to see how much I changed since my first incarnation and how his influence helped me accomplish that. I stopped myself when I realized the futility of explaining what I was becoming. Wade would have to witness my transformation for himself, and I had to accept it might not happen in this lifetime. What he said was enough to leave me with the first sincere smile I experienced since my memory returned, and I wanted to hold on to it for as long as I could.

The next morning, Wade left for New Athenia. It would be dishonest to say I didn’t envy him. I missed the civilized life and longed for my friends and to reclaim my chair with the orchestra. However, I missed Flora more. I surmised the only way I could save her was if I stayed away from all the things that got me into trouble in the past. I thought about my promise to Sutara to listen and do nothing. The more I listened, the more I aspired to be an authentic man, a truly natural man, fueled by inner-purpose, irrespective of opinion or ideal. The following four years were serene, and my hermetic life inspired a peace I never possessed. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to maintain this mood when Flora returned, but I learned to stop looking ahead and to accept things as they come.

When Tyrus’s memory returned, he showed up at the cabin to be healed. My curative skills advanced. Like a medical scanner, I imaged the cancerous growth at the base of his skull and knew exactly where to direct the energy. My hands heated up as I placed them a few inches away from the location of his tumor. When my hands cooled back down, I stopped the treatment.

“Thanks.” Tyrus rubbed his forehead. “Haven’t felt this good in years.”

I poured myself a glass of water to cool down. “What happened after I left Middle Crest?”

“I stayed there, got married and had three children—two girls and a boy. My youngest succumbed to a fever when he was three. He didn’t make it. I don’t want to go through that again.”

“In my first incarnation, I married as well. I had two sons, Aaron and James. I keep wondering what the changes in my life means for them. Will they exist again in some other reality? Not knowing is difficult.” I drank all the water and poured myself another cup.

“Why don’t you return to that life?”

“All the great sages I’ve read about all seem to agree that we can’t ever go back. I found their words to be true. I tried to go back, but things didn’t work out the same way. The mother of my children married Lidian.”

“Holly was your wife? Forgive me, Damon. Why didn’t you tell me? Had I known, I never would’ve introduced them in this lifetime.”