Transient Echoes (17 page)

It had been six months since Terry found the farm and the family who lived there. Since then, he’d moved into the cliffs beyond the valley and made a home for himself near the place where the river met the sea. With Ludo’s help, he’d built a small house into the side of the rock-face, using the flattened stones as the back wall and crafting the rest from the bark of over a dozen trees. As it turned out, Ludo was a man of many talents, including farming, hunting, cooking, and carpentry. He offered these skills freely to Terry, asking nothing in return. The man was the kindest person Terry had ever met, with John perhaps being the rare exception. Someone who gave his devotion freely without reservation. A true friend.

In their eagerness, both Terry and Ludo had made learning the other’s language a priority. Much to his disappointment, Terry quickly discovered he had no talent for linguistics, so his progress was slow and clumsy. He’d managed to learn a great deal, however, fumbling through sentences and conversations, determined to improve. By contrast, Ludo went from knowing nothing of English to speaking with some impressive adequacy. Terry only had to tell him a word once or twice for Ludo to memorize it. Within the first week, he had already mastered basic phrases and most of the common nouns. By the second month, he spoke with the fluency of a small child, knowing many of the words while struggling with proper grammar. After six months, he’d mastered the bulk of the language in the time it took Terry to ask where the bathroom was.

Still, Terry had looked forward to learning how to speak to Ludo and his family in their native language, so he forced himself to work on it and adapt. He’d need the skill if he were to ever encounter more people like this quaint little family, and he imagined he would, given what Ludo had told him. “The world is big,” Ludo explained, motioning to the space around him. “Many people live here. You’ll see soon. I’ll show you.”

It was through these conversations that Terry learned a great many things. For starters, the name of the planet was Kant, while the region—or country, depending on how Ludo chose to talk about it—was called Greenwater. Kant rarely came up in conversation, except when Ludo needed to compare Greenwater to something bigger. “Not many live in Greenwater, but it borders Xel and Everlasting.”

“Xel and Everlasting?” asked Terry.

“Other countries. Xel is smaller. Everlasting is much bigger.” Ludo scratched his ear.

“Who lives there?”

“Xel is a lot like Greenwater, but more villages. The men you saw in the jungle were probably from there. We’re close to the border.”

The way Ludo had talked about them, the four strangers from the woods had likely been slavers. There was a prison near the Xel border, and they would often send small groups out in search of new people. “And Everlasting?” asked Terry.

Ludo’s eyes lit up, and he grinned. “Big place,” he said, spreading his arms out. “The people are all beautiful and everyone flies very high. Much higher than us. I’ve never gone but others say so.”

More nonsense about flying,
thought Terry. Ludo often talked about people flying, including his own family, but the context never made any sense. None of them had wings. But Terry was still learning the language, and mistranslations were bound to happen. Maybe Ludo was talking about something else, and there simply wasn’t a word for it, so he called it flying. There was no way he really believed they all had wings, right?

Terry needed to learn how to communicate better so he could discover more about Kant. It was tempting to leave right now and see what else was out there, but he couldn’t go running off, even with an adequate knowledge of the language. There was always time for more adventures later. For now, he was content, perhaps even happy living under a cliff by the sea.

He decided to eat lunch alone today. Ludo had given him some fishing supplies, which he quickly learned to use in an effort to become as self-sufficient as possible. While he enjoyed the meals he ate on the farm, he always felt like he was imposing. Ludo never seemed to mind. In fact, as far as his friend had explained it, the simple act of eating someone else’s food was a sign of great respect, bringing honor to the household. Terry didn’t know if the sentiment were true or if Ludo was simply being kind, but he certainly appreciated the gesture.

For the most part, Terry found the differences in his and Ludo’s cultures to be far less than expected, though there were a few things which he found strange and at times truly alien. For example, Ludo’s son Talo did most of the cooking and cleaning, which he attended to throughout the afternoon. In the morning, the boy would study under his father’s tutelage, though as far as Terry could tell, they mostly focused on family history, botany, and an hour of meditation. The last one appeared to be the same sort of meditation the scarred man had used in the middle of the night while the others slept. Like the other men had done, Ludo and his son sat on the floor with their eyes open, slowing their heart rate as well as their breathing to the point where they hardly seemed alive. The practice must have been a widespread one, probably part of the culture, but he still didn’t understand the purpose of it.

Terry remembered learning in history class how some civilizations once used meditation as a form of emotional management or spiritual fulfillment. Those people sought a sense of stillness, humility, and oneness. Throughout the millennia, a variety of groups had adopted the practice and integrated it into their religions, while many more used it as a means of relaxation. Plenty of people back home still used meditation as a relaxation technique. As far as Ludo’s people were concerned, this could have gone either way. When Terry had asked his friend about the meditation sessions, the answer only brought more questions. “We do this so we may fly,” he had said. “You must touch chakka. Chakka is very important. One day I will show you.”

Terry had no idea who or what chakka was, or what flying had to do with any of it. When asked, Ludo simply grinned and said, “Don’t worry! I will teach you soon.”

Finally, there was Ludo’s wife Ysa, who never spoke. For a while, Terry thought this was because she didn’t approve of him, but the more time he spent in the house, the more convinced he became that it was part of her demeanor. Aside from this, Terry still didn’t understand the meaning of her tattoos or why she was bald, or her complete lack of general responsibilities, but he was certain he would discover those answers in time. What he found truly fascinating was how she appeared to have complete and utter authority over the other two males. Whenever Ludo wished to leave the house, he asked his wife for permission, usually with his head bowed. It was as though she were some kind of farmhouse royalty, worshiped only by her son and husband, never required to lift a finger. When Terry tried to ask why his wife acted in such a fashion, Ludo dropped his head, closed his eyes for a moment, and said, “We do not speak badly of Ysa. She…” he paused, searching for the words. “She flies the highest. Yes! High above to Everlasting.” He hugged himself, smiling. “Ysa does so much.”

Perhaps what Ludo had said made sense to
him
, but it left Terry with only more questions.

Still, he was certain he’d understand eventually. Given enough time, he
had
to figure it out. For now, he’d try to relax. He’d swim in the river, eat with his new friends, and maybe catch a nap if time allowed.

This place was good for him.

More than anything, however, the voice in his head was gone—the little girl pretending to be his sister. He hadn’t heard her in all the time he’d spent with Ludo, and perhaps it was a good thing. She had asked him to run, he remembered, months ago in the field at the edge of the woods.
Leave
, she’d begged, but he refused her, and in an instant she was lost. In exchange, however, he’d found another friend, and surely it was better to talk with someone real, a person made of flesh and bone, than a thing of make-believe trapped inside his brain.

Because Janice wasn’t real, he reminded himself.

She never was.

******

Ludo’s Farm, Kant

October 30, 2350

Terry sat between Ludo
and Talo, eating dinner after a long day in the fields. Ysa sat across from him, saying nothing. He had tried on several occasions to make conversation with her, but found she wasn’t one for small talk. The most he’d ever gotten were short and to the point responses. In the beginning, he’d taken this as a sign of hostility, but after some months had gone by, he came to understand it was simply her way.

Ludo motioned for Talo to retrieve the Sacred Vessel, which he did immediately. Talo handed the box to his father, who opened it and presented the knife to the family. “We ask for protection. We ask for guidance. May the Eye watch over us that we might fly together someday.” He put the blade back in the box and handed it to Talo.

It had taken Terry several months to understand the words Ludo spoke each night before dinner, let alone the deeper meaning behind them. From what he’d gleaned, the knife held some sort of religious significance and had been acquired by Ludo in the years before he became a simple farmer, around the time he met his wife. The prayer itself was a request to someone called the Eye, undoubtedly the local god. The Eye watched over every living thing on Kant, according to Ludo, and only through it could a person learn to fly. But of course Terry had never seen anyone flying on this planet, so he took it as a metaphor.

Indeed, Ludo and his family meditated daily, always at the exact same time. This occurred no matter what, even at the cost of other activities, including eating and sleeping. They never missed a session. They often stopped in the middle of a task to go meditate, sometimes without a word. Terry would be standing there with Ludo one moment, only to turn around and find the man gone the next. The meditation hour was the highest priority of their lives, Terry found, but he still barely understood it.

Ludo poured a bowl of soup and handed it to Ysa, Terry, Talo, and finally himself. The order of delivery had been this way since the week following Terry’s arrival. At first, the food had been given to Terry, because at the time he’d been a guest. Since he was now considered a member of the family, according to Ludo, he ate second. Talo was next, because he was the youngest, and finally Ludo, because he was the one preparing the food. Talo usually cooked the meals, but Ludo occasionally stepped into the role of homemaker. He seemed to enjoy taking care of people. Such a ritual was a far cry from the cafeteria line of the academy but not completely dissimilar. People still waited their turns, depending on their positions within the society. The idea of respect, it seemed, was not unique to Earth.

After dinner while Talo cleaned, Terry helped Ludo put together some supplies for the upcoming hunt in a few weeks. This would be the eighth such hunt for Terry, so he was fairly accustomed to the routine.

As Ludo prepared one of the many traps they would be using, Terry stuffed a bag with several small knives and some rope. “Will you join us tonight for meditation?” asked Ludo when he finished wrapping the trap. He often asked this question, never deterred by Terry’s repeated declination.

In truth, Terry had been meaning to try the practice out for a while now, but the prospect of getting involved with another culture’s religion felt unsettling. He didn’t want to offend his friend by doing something wrong or expressing his lack of faith. But he also didn’t want to keep declining him. “I don’t know, Ludo,” said Terry at last. “I’ve never done it before. I wouldn’t know how.”

Ludo smiled. “It‘s okay! I will show you. It’s easy to start.”

Terry considered this. It wouldn’t kill him to give it a shot, he supposed. And after everything Ludo and his family had done, he owed it to them. “Alright, I’ll try.”

Ludo’s smile grew wider, and he beat his chest three times. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “You will learn to fly very soon, my friend. Wait and see!”

******

Terry, Ludo, and Talo sat together, preparing for the meditation.

Ysa had gone to a separate room per usual to carry out her own version of whatever was about to take place.

Terry never had the opportunity to watch them do this, mostly because he didn’t want to risk insulting anyone by staring and not participating. He’d seen the practice once before back in the woods when the redheaded man had closed his eyes and stopped breathing. Looked like he was dead.

No way I can do that
, he thought.

Terry waited as Ludo lit a small fire in the center of the room. It burned with a blue flame, a result of the type of leaves. The three of them sat close, facing each other, their legs crossed. “The fire is our guide,” said Ludo. “Let it lift you. Let the heat carry your wings.”

Terry didn’t have wings, but he nodded anyway.

“Next we must close our eyes and focus our breaths. Look at how Talo does it. See the way he is calm and still? His breathing is steady; his mind is at peace.”

“What’s the goal here?” asked Terry. “What are we trying to do?”

“The goal is that there is no goal,” explained Ludo, smiling. “When the mind is quieted, we are free of worry, free of anger and fear. Only through peace can we experience true happiness. This is how we fly.”

Terry was pretty sure the term flying didn’t mean what Ludo thought it did. Oh, well. Chalk it up to translation problems.

Terry followed Talo’s lead in the exercises, trying to copy the way he breathed. Occasionally, they would perform soft chants, repeating certain sounds which carried no real meaning.

According to Ludo, the purpose was to clear one’s mind of all thought, concern, worry, stress, and emotion. “Be like the tree,” said Ludo, his eyes closed. “The tree does not worry, nor does it weep, nor is it quick to anger. Instead, it simply is, and nothing more.” He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “Let your skin become your bark so that it might shield you.”

Terry spent the rest of the hour copying what he saw, but he found it difficult to remain still. His mind was all over the place, and he wasn’t used to sitting in such an awkward position. Whenever he shut his eyes, his thoughts wandered. He pictured his friends and imagined what they might be doing. Whether they were safe. He thought about the men from the woods. The redheaded man and the one with the purple eyes. He thought about the abandoned city under the mountain and the machines still there. He thought about his sister and how old she must be.