The Enlightened (6 page)

“Yes. Enlightenment requires meditation, wisdom, and a great Depth,” Paul says. “Which means, since you lack the first two—”

“We’re incredibly proud, regardless of how it was made possible,” Rose says, interrupting Paul’s backhanded compliment.

“Your grandparents are thus far the youngest people to ever reach this state,” says the oldest-looking guy, who is sitting across from me.

“Okay, great,” I say, trying to digest it all. “What does this mean in practical terms? Am I, like, one of you?”

The man looks at me, confused, and says, “You must be joking—”

“Now, now, Sean. The boy asked a reasonable question,” Rose says. “Listen, Darren. First and foremost, there is that delicate matter we need to discuss. A matter of duty made more critical by what we’ve just learned.”

“And that would be?” I ask, straining to keep my voice free of any skepticism. ‘Duty’ is a word that triggers my rebellious side, especially when it’s used as an excuse to make very unreasonable demands, and particularly when the motives for those demands are pompous and irrational. In general, logic is rarely part of the equation when someone appeals to your sense of duty. To make matters worse—or to highlight my stance on that word—I always think of ‘doody’ when I hear it.

“That things are as we thought and you are, indeed, Mark’s child and the first hybrid to exist in recorded history. Also, your Depth is so great that we underestimated it,” she says, answering the wrong question.

“Indeed. I’m glad we made the necessary preparations,” Paul says, running with what Rose said without explaining the actual ‘what’ that they want from me. “Shall we head to the visitors’ lounge?”

“That’s a great idea,” Rose says. “Best get that business over with. Your Depth might—”

“Yes,” Paul says curtly. “You should accompany us, Rose.” He looks around the room, closely examining his peers. “The invitation extends to anyone who’s interested.”

“I think I’d rather stay back and discuss the implications of all this with the others, dear,” says Marsha before kissing him on the cheek. “You go.”

“I’ll stay behind too, hon,” Edward says, letting go of Rose’s hand. “Wouldn’t want to crowd you.”

Paul gets up, then Rose, and I follow their lead. Their spouses sure are trusting. I always thought that if you let people who had sex with each other hang out, they might hook up again. And my grandparents must’ve done it out of wedlock at least once. Not that I’m certain sex is part of their lives now. Nor am I sure that it’s safe for my sanity or libido to ponder this any further.

“You still didn’t answer my question about this
duty
thing,” I say as we walk out.

“We’ll discuss that in a moment,” Paul says as he slows his pace to let Rose catch up.

“Fine. Then can you at least tell me what the vision actually means?” I ask. “Since all of you seem to have had yours
...
”

“It’s different for everyone,” Rose answers. “But the common thread is that when we each received our visions, we received the most important piece of wisdom of our lives.”

 
“Wisdom?” I ask carefully, unsure whether I want to tell them what I saw. If I tell them, they’ll realize I have a very good reason for wanting to get out of the Quiet as soon as possible, and they might take some precautionary measures to stop me. “What about warnings or premonitions? Did anyone ever get those?”

“Is that what you received?” Paul asks, looking over his shoulder. “If you were given a warning, you should heed it. What is revealed during the Enlightenment always proves to be true.”

“Always? These things are never, ever wrong?” I don’t try to hide my disappointment. I hoped he’d say the visions were all metaphorical and up to interpretation, like dreams, and shouldn’t be taken literally.

“If the beings in those visions are to be believed,” Rose says, “they’re just
us. S
ince
we
can be wrong, they can also be wrong. It just so happens that we’ve never witnessed a vision that has proven to be incorrect. Some of us believe these beings are divine and simply lie about being
us
to conceal their true nature. Others think it makes sense that the combined intellects of so many wise people would produce—”

“So what did you see?” Paul asks.

I don’t have a lie on hand, and I don’t want to tell them the truth, so I decide to annoy Paul by asking a question of my own. “What do you plan on having me do?”

He continues walking in somber silence. Rose winks at me, I guess to show she’s not angry. I don’t trust her. Not fully, not yet. I think they’re still playing good cop / bad cop with me.

We walk through the Temple, allowing me to get a better look at the monks. I notice that they’re not all men. The women are harder to spot due to them having the same shaved heads as the men. Their bare faces and shapeless robes also serve to conceal their gender. Despite this androgyny, I find that one of the lady monks we pass looks pretty.

The diversity of this place doesn’t end with the presence of women. The monks are also a good mix of ages and races. The latter is in contrast to the Enlightened, who, like nearly all Readers and Guides I’ve met, are white. My friend Thomas, who’s half-Asian, is the only non-white Guide I’ve encountered thus far.

Paul leads us through a smaller side door to the outside of the Temple. This must be a sort of backyard. Unlike the beauty-packed front, with its rock gardens and cherry blossoms, this area is more practical and plain. We’re walking on a field of green grass, with blue forget-me-nots scattered here and there.

As we walk, something on my left catches my attention. In this part of the yard, a bunch of monks stand frozen in poses that look like either kung fu or tai chi. Whatever they’re doing, it’s different from the other sorts of meditation their brethren inside the Temple are practicing. When I see Caleb performing some type of martial art on his own, I realize they probably are practicing kung fu. Though his moves aren’t the same as the frozen figures’, it puts this open space into context; it’s some kind of outdoor dojo. Now that I’m paying attention, I spot tall, wooden poles in the distance, each with a monk standing atop them on one leg, with the other foot held in their right hand. The pose looks like a combination between a stretching and a balancing exercise. In another part of the dojo, someone is crouched, deep in concentration, about to break a slab of stone with his bare hands.

“Here we are,” Rose says as we reach the end of the yard.

Paul opens the door to let us into another large structure, saying, “This is the guesthouse.”

The ‘guesthouse’ is the size of a mansion. The Temple dwarfs it from the outside, but once we’re inside, the grandness of the house feels comparable. When my attention settles onto two women sitting near the entrance, frozen, my awe of the place is extinguished, replaced by shock.

Because while one looks vaguely familiar, the other woman I know very well.

It’s Julia, the Reader woman I usually think of as ‘Eugene’s girl,’ even if they aren’t currently together—a situation that’s due in large part to her late father, Jacob.

Fuck. My heart starts beating faster.

I shot Jacob and was present when Mira finished him off. I can’t think of a good reason as to why I’m being reunited with Julia, other than for some kind of reckoning. The woman accompanying Julia must be her mother, Jacob’s widow.

What is going on? I can see a very logical chain of events: the Enlightened who Joined with me learned the truth, and now they want that truth to come out. After all, Caleb knew it was me, so they might have decided to bring Julia in ahead of time and do the whole Joining just to confirm the situation.

“What the hell are they doing here?” I ask evenly.

Caleb is outside, so if I had to, I could utilize a few desperate measures, such as killing Paul to phase out of the Quiet. But I remind myself that if I killed him, I’d only end up back in the car, next to Inert Paul and angry Caleb—not to mention that killing my newfound grandpa would feel wrong, or disrespectful, or something.

“You know Julia and her mother,” Paul says calmly.

“Is that a question?” I’m starting to get annoyed. “You just poked around in my head, so you know what I know.”

“Allow me, Paul,” Rose says, putting her hand on my elbow. “Your friend and her mother think they’re here to get our clarification on who will be the new leader of their Reader community.”

“And the real reason?” I brace myself for the answer.

“The real reason is a bit more complicated,” she says.

“Simplify it for me.”

“Okay. Let’s start with this. You’ve probably already gathered that you’re unique,” she says tentatively.

“Well, yeah. Because of my mother.”

“No,” she says. “Well, yes. But aside from your mother being a Pusher,
you
are different.”

“Oh?” That definitely gets my attention. “What else is there? Something to do with you and him”—I point to Paul—“being bred for your Depth?”

“Exactly,” she says. “You see, our people have been trying to accomplish something for some time, something that requires a tremendous amount of Depth. Paul, do you want to explain this part, since it’s your area of expertise?”

“I can try,” he says with a sigh. “The short version is that it’s possible to Split after you’re in the Mind Dimension.”

“What?” My mind is reeling. “Of all the things I expected to hear
...
” I take a breath, considering it. “Is it really feasible? Phasing into the Quiet, from the Quiet? What would that even be like?”

“We don’t know,” Paul says. “It’s all rather theoretical. One thing we do suspect is that this feat would allow you to Read
anyone
.”

“Read a fellow Reader?”

He nods.

Wow. Reading a Reader would be like the Holy Grail for these people, who can Read the minds of anyone but the people who matter most—the people in their own community.

“I think I understand,” I say, “and it does sound impressive.”

“It does present some very exciting possibilities,” Paul says. “The big problem is: the Depth required to Split in that way would have to be enormous.”

“So you’ve been breeding people to create more Depth?” I think I’m catching up.

“Yes. And if your father had had a child with the woman he was supposed to, with
her
”—he points to Julia’s mom—“our grandchild might’ve possessed the required Depth, and if not that child, then our great-grandchild.”

My head is spinning. “Julia’s mom was supposed to ‘breed’ with my dad? Is she especially powerful?”

Since I never met my dad, it’s not all that weird to think that he could’ve done it with Julia’s mom. What do I care? The thing I do care about, however, is the glimmer of suspicion forming in the back of my mind. No, I tell myself. They wouldn’t be
that
crude.

“She is indeed,” Paul says. “Her parents are the most powerful of our kind from Ontario. Unfortunately, she’s post-menopausal, so we can’t use her anymore. But her daughter
...
”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Unfortunately, my sneaking suspicion was right. “You want me to fuck Julia?” My voice rises in pitch. “No, sorry, you want me to fucking have a kid with Julia?”

“You make it sound like such a horrible thing,” Rose says, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiles. “She’s a rosebud. It’s not like we’re asking you to do something you wouldn’t enjoy.”

“She’s my friend’s girl,” I say weakly. I could’ve made a million other, more obvious objections, but this one was the first to come to mind.

“We’re not asking you to marry her,” Paul says nonchalantly. “We just want you to perform your duty.”

All my reasons against this proposition swirl and overwhelm my mind until I blurt out my main objection: “I’m too young to have kids.” As I say it, I realize it’s probably not even in the top ten cons that
they
would’ve taken seriously.

“We’d take care of the child,” Rose says. “Of course you’re too young for that.”

I can’t believe we’re actually carrying on with this conversation. Breeding
me?
For some trait? The idea is beyond ridiculous. All this talk of breeding people hadn’t fully registered until this very moment—until it got personal. The choice my parents made, the choice Eugene and Mira’s father made—not to have kids with the ‘right’ person—was all very theoretical, until now.

“I also have a girlfriend,” I say, realizing that in their eyes, I probably sound like a five-year-old justifying why he won’t eat his broccoli.

“We’re not asking you to leave your little girlfriend either,” Rose says. “Look at us. Paul and I married the people we love dearly. Giving birth to Mark never changed that. In fact, it’s the opposite. Marsha and I are best friends. So are Edward and Paul.”

I feel like I’m in a strange dream version of the
Twilight Zone
mixed with a ‘I had a child with my twin sister’s husband’ Jerry Springer episode. Inadvertently, I look at Julia. Blond hair, blue eyes, curves in all the right places. She’s as hot as ever, and I can’t stop an erotic image—or two—from slipping into my consciousness, confirming what Rose said. This
could
be something I, or any other red-blooded guy, would enjoy, on a purely mechanical, execution-of-task kind of level.

 
“So what’s the timeline?” I ask uncomfortably. “When did you want this
...
act
...
to occur?”

“Caleb and Paul can drive you here as soon as you’re ready,” Rose replies.

“Wait. Did Julia already agree to this?” I ask. Even if I wanted to agree to this crazy plan, there’s one huge problem: my mom’s in trouble and I don’t have the time to be, literally, fucking around.

“She will agree,” Paul says. “Same as you.”

I never thought I’d be this tempted to punch an old guy in the face. I resist, barely, and try a different approach.

“Is there any way I can leave this place and do this with Julia in New York? Or come back in a little while?”

“No,” Rose says, and for the first time, the good-grandma act slips. “We’re not taking the risk of you disappearing on us for good.”