The Enlightened (5 page)

And what’s really frustrating is how I thought I’d meditated before through the simple breathing exercise Mom had taught me, the one that helps me reach Coherence when I need to Read. I recall how this technique was something she said her partner, Mark—my dad—introduced her to. He could’ve learned it here, in this very temple. Of course, comparing the breathing stuff I do to what I just witnessed is like comparing the effects of Tylenol to that of morphine.

I’m distracted from my reflections by a sense of vertigo. I recognize it as the same feeling I had when Caleb and I Joined, which now feels like ages ago. I don’t fight the feeling but welcome it. At first, it feels like floating in water, but soon, it’s more like the complete and utter loss of the concept of being embodied. It’s like both my consciousness and my disembodied brain are floating in space.

And then another wave of strangeness comes, and another. This feeling intensifies for each of the Enlightened participating in the Joining. It hits me again and again. I can’t imagine the potency of this incorporeal feeling increasing, yet each time it does—exponentially so.

I lose count of how many people I’ve Joined with, but it must be all of them. The feeling of being nonphysical gets mingled with a sense of wonderment of such intensity that what I experienced with Caleb pales in comparison. It’s a bliss unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Even that time when I got an overdose of morphine at the Coney Island Hospital can’t come close, and I suspect that if I took all the orgasms I’ve ever had, combined them, and then experienced them all at once in a single millisecond, it would still fall short. The pleasure is so intense that I wonder if it will turn to pain—but it doesn’t. Instead, it intensifies some more.

Now I experience a sense of oneness with the universe, a feeling of meaning and belonging. Strange thoughts enter my mind. I wonder whether the universe can think for itself. What if every star in every galaxy, every subatomic particle and the atoms they make up, every black hole, supernova, and even dark matter developed the ability to think together and became self-aware? Is this what such a being would feel like—the way I’m feeling?

And then I feel my memories spew outward. It doesn’t feel like a violation of privacy, even though it probably should. Instead, it feels as if I’m sharing myself, like I’m being understood on an intensely deep level. Through some remnants of my rational mind, I realize this sort of thing already happened during my Joining with Caleb, but this time, the Joining is different. The Enlightened are reading weeks of my life with laser-sharp focus.

You know those stories where people’s lives flash before their eyes before they pass away? Well, the recent weeks of my life flash in front of mine. And not just the big events like the trip to Atlantic City, the search for Mira, her rescue, my getting shot, our going on a date, and my killing Jacob. I see every tiny detail, from the sizzling hot nights with Mira in Miami to the relaxing days on the beach. I relive the science talks with Eugene and the brunches with Bert and Hillary. All our conversations, all the times we goofed around—it all floods my brain in a single moment.

As this is happening, I feel for the minds of the people with whom I’m Joining. If my privacy is being violated, I might as well try to learn a few secrets from my grandparents and their colleagues in turn. But instead of seeing any of their memories, all I feel is a kind of meditative calm, a state very similar to the Abbot’s mind—just peace, serenity, and calmness, but no specific memories.

Are they blocking their memories from me through some form of meditation? The thought should disappoint or upset me, but feeling as rapturous as I do, I can’t seem to understand or experience those negative emotions.

As my memories near the end of the process of being drained out, I feel something new: a tsunami of thoughts, an avalanche of something I can only describe as ‘sacredness,’ even though I know it has nothing to do with religion or any belief system. I feel my intellect,
our
intellects, increasing and permeating everything, and suddenly, I’m drawn somewhere, plummeting to some destination at the speed of light, and I see a bright light flash before my eyes.

When my eyes recover, I see a vision—or what I assume to be a vision.

First, I’m aware of being in some place. Until this point, I was feeling as though I wasn’t inhabiting my body; therefore, I was not in any specific place, as that would require being corporeal. Now I’m definitely feeling like myself, feet planted on some kind of gray surface, eyes looking out into a vague, hard-to-describe landscape. My surroundings lack color and depth. They remind me of those green rooms where the weather people shoot their forecasts; only instead of green, everything is a washed-out gray. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch flickering gray shadows, but I can’t make out what they are.

The only thing I can see clearly is a figure.

It’s floating in the middle of the strange gray room. Based on its broad shoulders and shaved head, I believe it’s a man—though I can’t be sure of the person’s gender, since all I can see is his white-robed back. His legs are folded in that now-all-too-familiar lotus pose. He seems to be radiating some kind of light, which is the best way I can describe his halo-like effect. The light isn’t bright and has that same gray, washed-out quality as the rest of this place. And why am I not more surprised to see someone floating in the air like a helium balloon? It’s probably because I know, deep down, that this is just a vision.

Suddenly, without turning around or seeming to move in any way, the man is facing me. My mind reels at the sight. It’s almost painful to look at him because he’s blindingly, incredibly beautiful. I know it’s an odd thing for me to think about a guy, but he doesn’t look like an everyday, real-world person; he looks like something else entirely. If angels or deities were real, I imagine this is how they would look.

“Hi, Darren,” he says. His voice is the most melodic and harmonious sound I’ve ever heard and does to my ears what his visage does to my eyes.

“Hello,” I manage to say, unable to blink from all the staring.

I can’t exactly describe him. The beauty and perfection of his face are leaps and bounds beyond simple symmetry. It’s like every skin cell, every molecule on the right side of the face matches an exact one on the left. But even that doesn’t really explain it.

“You have to stop worshipping me like this,” he says. “I look the way I look and sound the way I sound because I am not encumbered by the mundane limitations of physics. I am more of an abstract construct in your mind than a real person. You didn’t actually see me when you first saw me. The sight of me didn’t
really
register in your brain the way you were thinking of it a second ago. I explain this only because we have very little time, and I need you to get over your shock.”

“You’re a what?” I can’t stop staring at him. “And little time for what?”

“I’m you, Darren,” he says, “and Rose and Edward. I am also Paul and Marsha and all the other Enlightened with whom you are currently Joined. And the Joining is coming to an end, thus we have little time.”

“I can sort of understand the time limit, but I don’t understand how you can be me.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he says, still floating in the air. “I see you already know, on some level, that I am a manifestation of the combined intellects of all of you, but you are going through the motions reminiscent of denial, which we have no time for.”

“You’re like a hive mind composed of all of us?” I ask incredulously. “Including me?”

“Yes. Though without the negative connotation the term ‘hive’ carries.”

“Wow.” I blink. “I’m not sure what to say to you.”

“We’re not here for you to say anything to
me
,” he says calmly. “That would be pointless, since I know everything you know, as well some things you know but don’t realize you know. I am here because I have an important message for you.”

“Isn’t this a lot like talking to myself?” I ask, and for the first time, a disturbing thought occurs to me. Did the Joining make me go insane?

“You’re not crazy,” he says. “But I don’t have time to convince you of your sanity. We’ve already used up too much time as is.”

Wouldn’t an imaginary friend say something along those lines?
I think at him, testing the theory that he can read my thoughts.

“Perhaps,” he admits out loud, confirming my suspicions. “If it helps, you can think of me as a creative way your mind processes the information that’s already there, like clues in your memories that are crunched after accessing some extra brain hardware.”

“You sound like Liz, my shrink.” A smile tugs at my lips. “And a little bit like Bert, my best friend.”

“That’s intentional,” he says patiently. “I want to make sure you don’t think of me as a trick the others are trying to play on you.”

“Oh,” I say, realizing he just voiced a fear that had been lurking around the edges of my awareness—a feat that is extremely creepy.

“My message will be counterproductive to the plans your Joining companions have for you, which should convince you that they have nothing to gain from this,” he says, floating a bit closer.

“What plans?” I ask warily.

“That will be made clear to you after we’re done here. I really should get to the point. We have but moments left.”

“Wait. What will happen to you after the Joining?” I don’t know why this matters to me, but it does. “Will you die?”

“Great question, and I wish we had time to discuss it,” he says. “I am touched that you even care enough to ask about my fate. The short version is: I will, as you say, phase into the Quiet.”

“What? What do you mean? How does that work?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to get on this topic. In a nutshell, I will be in a different dimension. My Depth is unlimited, meaning that in a fraction of a millisecond, before the Joining ends, I can live forever.”

“What do I call you?” I ask, my mind reeling from what he’s just told me. The idea of a god-like being like him, originating from some old farts and me and living forever isn’t easy to digest.

“We have no time, Darren. Call me Mimir, if you must. This whole conversation is so that I can tell you something, and you must forgive my rudeness, but I have to come out and say it.” He seems to take a deep breath. “You need to go back to New York. Lucy is in danger. Big danger.”

“What?” My insides twist with fear. “My mom’s in danger? How do you know that?”

“The question is: how do
you
know that?” Mimir says. “And the answer is, as I said, clues. You know more than you realize, but you haven’t properly processed the information. You lack focus. You lack the experience in deductive reasoning.”

“What will happen to her? What can I do?” For some reason, I believe him. I have complete and utter conviction that Lucy is in trouble.

“Go to her. Tell her not to investigate
anything
until you get there. When you see her, tell her everything
about what you can do and what happened. Don’t leave anything out,” he says urgently.

“But who is she in danger from?”

“It’s your—”

And before he finishes the sentence, I’m in my body, staring dumbly at my finger that’s touching the Abbot’s bald head. The Enlightened in the circle look more animated.

The Joining is over.

Chapter 6

D
azed, I overhear bits and pieces of conversation as the old people murmur to one another.

“So it’s true,” someone says.

“Unbelievable,” someone else whispers.

Their discussions would’ve riveted me had I not been overcome by dread.

Mom is in trouble.
I can’t think of anything but that. Lucy’s tough, but she does have a dangerous job. Could the threat be coming from some scumbag she put away during her long career as a detective? From someone who just got out of jail and is hell-bent on revenge? Mimir mentioned clues. Could one of them be some case she told me about at some point?

The idea that it’s a case she investigated sticks in my mind. Even if I’ve consciously forgotten about it, Mimir was able to access the information and use it to warn me. But for the life of me, I can’t recall Lucy ever saying anything about a dangerous case or a criminal getting released. Sure, she worked in Organized Crime for years, but she never told Sara or me anything about it. No ‘such and such crime boss went to jail thanks to me,’ and no ‘I shot such and such mobster.’ She’s too professional to gossip. Besides, for the past few years, she’s been in White-Collar Crime, a department that doesn’t deal with violent criminals.

I take a deep breath. As urgent as the situation is, I can let myself relax a little. I’m currently in the Quiet, so whatever the threat is, it’s not getting any closer. Along with the rest of the outside world, it’s on hold. So long as I stay in the Quiet my grandpa created, I have time to contemplate my next move.

I need an exit strategy. After that, I need to organize an urgent trip to New York.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Rose says, breaking my concentration.

“Not so bad?” I give her an incredulous look. “Did you not hear what Mimir had to say?”

The room goes quiet.

“Who?” Paul asks, his eyes widening. “What did you just say?”

“Mimir? The good-looking guy in the vision?” As I say this, I realize I’ve made a blunder. “Weren’t you there when that being spoke to me? I figured you heard it too since we were of one mind and all that.”

“Incredible,” Edward says, putting his hand on Rose’s wrist. “Your grandson attained Enlightenment on his first Joining.”

“It was his second Joining,” Paul corrects, his tone pedantic. “But that doesn’t make it any less impressive.”

For the first time, something warm shows on his face. Is Grandpa proud of me? I wish I understood what he was proud
of
.

“It sounds as if you experienced what we consider to be the most important effect of the Joining,” Marsha says in a solemn tone. “Seeing what you saw is a prerequisite for becoming part of our community.”