Vrin: Ten Mortal Gods (12 page)

It wasn’t long before Thana touched down with a thump. She held tight to the rope as she dismounted, then scooped up a metal hook that was buried under some leaves and secured the weight so it would not rise back up. “I hope you enjoyed your ride.” She smiled.

“More than words can say.” I smirked.

She chuckled and headed down the path, I hopped off the rock and followed. We passed over a wooden bridge and into a clearing. To our right the river poured into a lake, and on the lake’s edge was a log home. As we approached I could see a man out front chopping wood. He was an old fellow in a red flannel shirt and green work pants. A long white beard dangled before him. Each swing of the ax was powerful and accurate; he was definitely not a frail man. Suddenly, seemingly unprovoked, he began jumping about and flailing his arms in the air with quick jarring motions, back and forth, like a madman. “Go away!” he yelled. “
GO away!
” Soon his wild motions brought him to the ground with a crash, then all we could see were the old man’s arms and legs stabbing up into the air from the thick grass. “Leave me in
peace!”
he yelled out.
“Go AWAY!”

For a moment I thought he was hallucinating, but then I spotted the object of his misery. It was a tiny bird, a humming bird. It hovered over his flailing body for a moment then turned and shot off across the lake. I guess the old man was too much of a challenge for the little creature.

“Humphrey?” I asked.

“Humphrey,” she stated.

THE MORTAL GOD

001001011001110

He was taller than he’d looked from the distance and there was a gentle power about him. His face was stern, yet kind, and although his leathery skin showed deep lines around his neatly trimmed white beard, he was far from feeble. I waited while the old friends shared an embrace.

Still scowling the old man examined me with a critical eye. “All right,” he said with a toss of his hand, “but I’ll not go on any fool crusades with you. I’m a man of peace. And a tired man at that!”

I tried to be diplomatic. “All I seek is information. Whatever you are willing to share will be appreciated.”

He gave a slight nod. “Then come in and rest your bones.” He offered his arm to Thana. “And grab a few of them logs if you don’t mind,” he said, pointing to the pile next to the chopping block.

I stacked some sticks in my arms and trailed along behind.

Humphrey’s cabin was neat and orderly, and although sparsely decorated, had all the comforts of home. A pleasant piney odor hit me as I entered. Instantly the warmth of the cabin’s rustic beauty enveloped me. “Where do you want these?” I asked.

“In the basket by the fireplace,” he said over his shoulder as he guided Thana into the kitchen. I figured he wanted to grill her with questions about me, but she came back out rather quickly, with thick slice of bread and a large glass of milk.

“He would have turned you away outside if he didn’t. And he wouldn’t offer coffee unless he wanted you to stay a bit. He used to make a cup for Gaza before their long discussions, but he even turned him away a few times before finally giving in.”

Thana headed for the bedroom. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk about god stuff. I’m exhausted. I’ll catch up with you in the morning.”

“Well, two days ago Kitaya and I used an event cell to re-live a portion of Vrin’s history. Kitaya witnessed a discussion between Gaza and Rath where Gaza was threatening to destroy this world if Rath did not do his bidding. She didn’t get all the details, but Gaza was talking about searching for a woman and a girl child. We were hoping Gaza might have mentioned them to you.”

Humphrey furrowed his brow. “He believes his wife and daughter died in a car accident in his previous existence. That might have something to do with it. But I don’t know why he’d be searching for a woman and child in this world.”

“He mentioned something about an exact match. Do you think he was referring to them?”

“It’s possible. He could have made replicas of them to ease his pain.”

“No. --That wouldn’t make sense. He’s
searching
for them, for an exact match. If he
made
replicas he wouldn’t have to search for them.” I gave Humphrey a quizzical look. “Right?”

“This world is extremely complex.” Humphrey picked up an iron poker and began stirring the fire. “There could be a great many explanations. Gaza mentioned many details of its creation but most of it was gibberish to me.”

Humphrey shook his head. “I don’t know. Gaza is something of an enigma. There is no disputing the fact that he is a genius, but his mind is tortured, his reasoning impaired. I spent many a night trying to help him through his questions.” Humphrey stood and began to pace. “He is angry with God. He blames God for the death of his family, but it goes beyond reason. It’s a fixation. I believe he is between calms.” Humphrey stopped and looked out the window.

He started pacing again. “In a person’s life there is a flow, or as I call it, a calm. You find the path that is most pleasing and you follow it.” He looked at me.

I nodded, hoping I looked like I knew what he was talking about.

“Unfortunately,” he went on, “things happen, devastating things: the death of a loved one, a debilitating accident. Events like these suck the wind out of a person, leaving them in the emptiness between calms. Most find the strength to stand again, their paths irrevocably changed, but others never regain their calm. Gaza’s physical body has probably long healed but who he is refuses to return. The pain of his experience is holding him back. If he could work through the fear he would be free to return to his body. But he can't, so he's stuck. He’s unable to continue on into eternity, yet he cannot return to the physical.”

“It sounds like you're saying he's a ghost.” I let out a small laugh.

“He’s as close to a ghost as a physical being can be. His path is wrought with uneasiness and loss. I believe his search is nothing more than a desperate attempt to retrieve his calm.”

I shook my head. “How can you sound so sure?”

“Have you not realized? This is a spiritual place. We are no longer in our physical bodies as we understand it. I’m not sure what I would call it, but the best I can come up with is purgatory, a spirit plane between the physical and eternity.”

I squinted at him. “You think we’re
dead?
”

He nodded slowly. “I’m not certain-- but yes. I think we’re dead.”

I looked him in the eye. “With all due respect, sir, I believe you are wrong, because just last night I had a conversation with a scientist who would disagree with you.”

He looked genuinely astonished. “You’ve talked with people-- on the
physical
plane?”

“Yes, and although I haven’t figured out what this place
is,
I’m pretty sure we’re not dead.”

He walked back to the window. “This is very odd,” he said softly. “I’ve had some enlightening conversations with my soul, and it mentioned nothing of being able to talk to the other side.”

“Your
soul?
”

“Yes. Occasionally I have brief conversations with it.” He reached out and rubbed a spot on the window. “It said I was on the edge of the physical world and that I had more to accomplish. It said this place was special. There is so much doubt in the world, so many questions. We are an inquisitive species. Without this place we would lose our way. What we learn here we bring here. What we carry with us we made under God’s watchful eye.”

“We’re not dead. I was mistaken. It hadn’t occurred to me before because I never bothered looking for clarification on the matter. I believe we are on the edge of death. Yes, that’s it.”

“The
edge
of death?”

I pulled my concentration back in on itself and the web appeared. The thread I had used before was long gone, so I chose another, stretched it, and tracked down the remark. A new message read, “Waiting for a response.”

“Well you should be. But I’m fine for the moment. Look, I’m going to ask you a question and I want a straight answer. It is
very
important that you answer this question.”

“Doctor, am I
dead?
”

“No, Robert, you’re not dead. You are very much alive. I was just surprised by your question. And before you ask again, as I know you will, I will tell you where you are. We discussed it with the psychologist and he said as long as we don’t get into any repressed memories you should be okay.” He paused.

“Well?”

“You’re not dead, Robert. You’re in a coma.”

“
--What?”

A coma. I know this will sound strange, but the world you perceive around you is being fed to your mind by a computer. You’re in a simulated level four non-REM sleep state. The computer is artificially planting sensory information into your mind through electronic stimulation. The results, as you can see, are quite real.”

“
Okay,”
I said, getting frustrated again. “Then why did you ask for me personally in the program?”

“Look, Robert, this isn’t easy for me either. I want to tell you what you want to know, but I’ve been advised not to share certain things. You have to trust me. Our primary goal right now is to get you and the others out of there. But before we can do that we need to learn more about why you’re not coming out on your own.”

“I don’t remember my name but you can call me Humphrey, it’s the name I’ve chosen for myself,” he said, displaying his grumpy nature.