The dot, p.2
The Dot, page 2
@@@@@@2
“You might want to dry your eyes,” I say. “Terrence is on his way up the stairs and you wouldn’t want him to see you crying.”
“I’m not crying, you fucker.” Habin says.
A moment later, Terrence bursts through the doors and enters the gathering room. A few steps into the entrance, He stands there looking back and forth at Habin and me. Terrence is seventeen years old, well over two meters tall, with arms and legs so full of muscles you never get used to his menacing size or feel comfortable when you’re next to him. He’s dark black except for his right ear and right hand, which are pink as a salmon steak. His voice is soft and has a higher pitch than anybody would expect from a guy his size. His emerald green eyes are as much of a shock to see as his voice is to hear.
“What have you guys been doing in here?” he chuckles sarcastically. “You look like you’re ready to cry, Habin. Did Zosimos turn down your sexual advances again?” He burst out laughing and sounds like a crow with hiccups.
Habin stands tall and starts toward Terrence. “I’ll make you cry and I’ll make you my little bitch,” he shouts.
“Chibusa!” I shout over the top of them and their posturing. They are not trying to intimidate each other as much as they are trying to impress me. They worship me because I’m a genius and I have paranormal powers. Together, we are three outcasts on this planet. I let them hang around because I’m beginning to love being worshiped. These two guys are like the lyrics to a song no one will ever hear. They are perfect for what I need.
“Get over here Terrence, and have a pillow. You too, Habin. Sit your ass back down and chill. Everything is boin.”
Once they’ve both settled onto a cushion, I continue telling them, “I was sitting here with Habin, sharing memories from my father using my neurolink and memory chips. As I was getting to a good part of the memory record, the dipshit interrupted me. So, I slugged him in the eye.
“If you want to keep acting like a tough guy, trying to make Habin feel worse, I could slug you in the eye too. Game on?”
“No man, boin. Chibusa, Habin. Man, you know I’m messing with you.” Then he looks at me pitiful as a newborn child, “I still think it’s a jerk-off that I can’t get a neurolink,” Terrence whined in a more high-pitched tone than his usual.
Habin threw a quick look at me, and I mouthed a no to him. We aren’t going to laugh at that whine. At least not right now. “You know you’re too old for the surgery and the adaptation. Let it go, man. It’s not personal. It’s physics and biology,” I tell him.
“Besides, you came in at the right time. I was showing, Habin, how Vallena was fucking up the new medicine crop production. Neither she nor my dad had a clue how to use that conscious supercomputer hidden inside her home. But the part, even my dad didn’t see, was what I found on her tablet. I was standing there in her back room with her notes and lab results in my hand. Tathagata was explaining and showing her how to graft the plants, and Mahá was glued to the display. While they weren’t watching me, I was thumbing through her logs and discovered a mistake she had tried to cover up. But she accidentally left a page of notes.
“It was a year ago that she had developed a potent new strain of silverback. She named it, triple threat. The high came on strong; after three pulls, your mind had tripled its everyday thinking and problem-solving power. But it also had a dark side effect. Her words, not mine. Apparently, if you smoke this stuff and take the fourth draw on the pipe, the DNA-altering Humanoid serum that removed anger from our genes is temporarily replaced.
“Darker still, if you hit the pipe once or twice a day following that, you can experience anger at will. Do you understand how valuable that is?” I look at Habin and then at Terrence, but the look in their intense stare tells me they have no idea what it means.
“How was it that you had to . . . you know?” Terrence asks me.
“What do you mean? How I ended up with Mahá’s neurolink on my twelfth birthday?
“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about that. Did you ever consider that?” Habin says to Terrence.
“Nah. It’s alright, Habin. I’ll tell you guys. Besides, it is crucial you two dumbshits know the story. So shut the fuck up and don’t interrupt me this time.
“Back when I was six years old Mahá made me King when he persuaded Chief Justice, Merliana, and the rest of the judges to ordain me. Once I was ordained, he and Visákhá went back to their house on the edge of the mountain, and I took over this palace and the kingdom.
“Everything was going along just fine. I was fixing the carts when they couldn’t recharge to plow fields and harvest crops. I showed Visákhá how to fix her light filtering to increase crop production, and I showed Danip how to blend better fertilizer to enrich the soils. But five years later, the previous King, the King before, Mahá, took over, well, he died.
“Wow, Visákhá was a wreck. The dead King was her uncle. She and her family spent a dozen years watching his dementia worsen, and we all saw his health dwindle away. Waiting for him to die was slower than bleeding someone to death one drop of blood at a time. When he died, they were grieving and relieved at the same time.
“Then, one day, she was sitting on the side of my mattress when I was going to bed. She says, "You will be getting the neurolink and memory chips from my uncle. You are at an eligible age and I have arranged for you to be chosen. Don’t be worried.” She told me. “It’s a simple operation. You’ll be back home within a week.”
“That was bullshit, I told her.” I take a hard look at Habin and Terrence. They’re looking back at me and listening like a couple of teenagers at the cinema watching a sci-fi flick back in the twenty-first century on Earth. When I turn back to the view from my palace window, the cliff birds are diving down from the sky and into their nests on the side of the cliffs. Kelly has begun another cycle of extreme X-ray emissions.
‘I’m stuck here with these two half-wits for seven hours now. None of us dare to go outside.’
@@@@@@3
Meanwhile, I join them on the lustrous high gloss polished limestone tiled floor. Take a seat on top of one of a dozen thick, soft, white meditation pillows. Then I snap my fingers to signal the housekeeper to bring me tea.
“Do you want tea, or do you two kids need to sleep?”
“Sleep? Who can sleep? Yes, tea would be boin,” says Habin.
“Tea is good for me,” Terrence agrees.
After giving instructions to the palace housekeeper to bring my guests tea, I tell my two loyal foot soldiers the story.
“Of course, Visákhá, my loving mother, disagreed with me. She told me it was a great honor to be selected to inherit her family neurolink. Her family is number one of the original forty-four that were sent here by the Humanoids. The most important of all those chosen, they are a family of agricultural scientists. And I could not care less about agriculture. It’s about as interesting to me as feeding dead bodies to the cliff birds. Anyway, I told her I wanted Mahá’s neurolink. His legacy of family and science is more valuable to me.
“She was stunned. I could see it on her expressionless face as her eyes betrayed her. She could not respond or move for several breaths. She walked away when she gained control of her emotions, leaving me alone in my bed.”
The tea arrives, and the aroma of camomile and mint fills the room. I watch while Terrence and Habin, like children, heap sweet honey into their mugs. As they stir, the tea sloshes over the brim and drips over, staining the white pillow. The sounds make me want to cut open their throats as they slurp at the still-too-hot-to-drink infusion. Terrence set his cup on the pillow beside him, transferring the tea from the bottom of the mug to further stain the fabric.
I snap my fingers to get a housekeeper’s attention, and as I do, I then point to the mess and stains. In less than ten seconds, the housekeeper was handing the two slobs napkins, and another housekeeper began treating the stains. They gave metallic trays to my guests for them to set their mugs on. I took several anger-control deep breaths and then continued telling the story.
“Mother kept after me. Every time I was in earshot, she would mention how exciting it was going to be for me to receive her family inheritance. She told me how happy her entire family was to know it would be mine. After two days of trying to avoid her, I went to Mahá and pleaded my case to him. I don’t want the fucking thing! I told him.”
Now Habin, is reaching for his tea mug, so I say through my gritted teeth and stabbing stare, “If one of you bastards spills another drop on my pillows, I’ll feed you to the birds, alive so you can watch as they peck out your eyes.”
Awareness is a powerful incantation. It’s a spell you cast with a few harsh words that can transform another person’s behavior and perception. After casting this verbal spell, I’m confident neither of them will ever spill a drop of anything in my palace again. So, I continue telling them.
“Mahá didn’t listen to me. Just like his wife, he tried to persuade me of the great endowment from the, quote quote—great first family of Ziran. You should have seen his eyes and the expression on his face when I told him I want his neurolink in my body. Besides, I asked him, what do I need with biomechanics as outdated as these eight-hundred-year-old relics?
“The antiques would be an impediment to my already superior mind and strength. Even with this understanding, I wanted to have his neurolink because there might be a chance of something to gain. Especially if I could learn his charisma. People clamor and cling to his every move and word. That’s what I want to possess.”
“So, how did you figure out what to do?” Habin asks. Neither has touched their tea.
Talking about this makes me feel anxious and stirs up an aggressive emotion. An odd and haunting sensation comes from knowing I’m the first person born on this planet to experience anger. Then I settle back and decide there is a comforting feeling in talking about it. Telling the story is reassuring and cleansing. If anger gives me the upper hand in addition to my superior mind and strength, then I need to learn to embrace this emotion.
I finish drinking my tea, demonstrating how to hold the cup so nothing spills. As I drink, the bitter flavor of leaves and plant stems in the last swallow isn’t as satisfying as remembering the taste of anger from my story. After a minute of quiet contemplation, I answer Habin.
“Tathagata told me how to solve the problem. After I explained the history of the population of Ziran and the Humanoid’s serum. Tathagata told me what I had to do to solve my problem.
“The next day, just after dad left home to head down the mountain. He told me he was going to the orchards. But I knew it was his day to spend with his other wife, Vallena. I was outside, watching and waiting for him to leave. Because I knew soon after he leaves, mom goes to bed. She always takes her requisite periods of sleep while the neutron star cycles through its death-ray-emitting quakes.
“I can remember every conversation she and I ever had from the day I was born.”
Before continuing, I move to sit on the pillow opposite them, looking at Terrence and Habin while I wait for Mahá’s memory to recall through my neurolink. I look straight through the two of them, feeling like I am almost in a trance state. I continue telling the story.
@@@@@@4
“From the first time she fed me from her breast, I can recall her telling me how I was her beautiful baby boy and how precious and loved I am. I remember the first time she bathed me in warm, silky water and examined my entire body. All the while, giving me an audible inventory as she went along. First, she counts the toes on each foot and from there she worked her way up. Her warm, powerful hands stroked my leg bones and knees. Making sure my newborn joints functioned, and then she counted my fingers, elbows, and shoulders. She made sure my wounded cock was healing from the circumcision, and then she made sure I was equipped with two testicles.
“I remember our last conversation, too. It was three months ago. The day before I got my neurolink implant . . .
“Mom. Are you home?” I yelled out as I entered the plantation-style house.
“I’m back here, in the bedroom,” she says.
The sun shades are drawn across the huge front room window, but there is still abundant light streaming into the room from the kitchen. I made my way to the bedroom where Visákhá’s voice came. The flavors of fresh-baked bread and fried zucchini from the early meal are still prominent, and the smell permeates the entire house.
They decorate their living room with few chairs but with many white, over-stuffed meditation pillows that look exactly like those I have here in the palace.
As I walk through the living room and make my way down the long hallway towards the master bedroom, the sound of my hard-sole, heavy boots clap with each step against the hard stone tiled floor. The light from the kitchen windows fades, and the rooms on either side of the corridor grow darker the further down the hall I go. It’s a typical home design on a planet where the two stars never set and there is no darkness. No nighttime, as they called it, on ancient Earth.
Her room is at the end of the hall, where it is darkest, and as I entered, she had four butter lamps burning on the table beside her bed. The room is otherwise, like my thoughts, too dark to see anything else besides her face lit by the steady flames.
“Hi, my King, my handsome son, my life. What brings you out at this dangerous time of the day?”
As my eyes adjust to the low light, I see her standing in the ensuite bath, putting on a royal blue, comfortable full-length nightgown. Her unblemished skin is smooth and as dark as fresh brewed wild erandit tea. For a woman her age, she’s incredibly fit with well-toned thighs, arms, and abdomen. Large, very dark nipples slightly upturned on her generous breasts. Perhaps the only part of her beauty that isn’t amazing is her height. She’s very short and pixie like and that makes her breasts seem even larger. To me, she’s stunning.
‘What would a man need with anyone else if he had her as his wife?’
“You’ll have to stay over until it’s safe to go back outside. Don’t worry. Your room is all made up and clean, and you can rest there.” She says as she climbs into her bed and then under the brilliant white covers. “Or you can lay here with me like we used to do when you were . . .
“When was the last time you slept with me? When you were five, I think.”
“That sounds good, mom. I’ll lay here with you,” I say while lifting my body onto the high bed frame, and thick foam mattress.” Before I rest my body beside her, I toss the royal white colored, thermal cooling, ultra-soft cover aside.
“Are you tired, mom?”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” she smirked. “After the lab work and the science briefings, followed by a day in the fields, I’m always too wound up and excited to sleep. You know this. I don’t have to tell you.
“They have delivered the new light filters you designed for the grain fields. The sharecroppers are now three weeks into it and struggling to remove the old ones and replace them.
“Today, while your top scientist, Danhip, was testing the filter positioning to the angle of the neutron star, he found a few errors in the installation. That sets us back several weeks now. We will have to go back and fix all the filters they have already installed. With his help, Danhip, I’ve scheduled several meetings with workers to teach them how to install the panels correctly. The timing is always an issue. The longer we take to install the panels, the later into the growing season it becomes.
“Nobody deals with stress properly. Especially not me.”
“More to the problem, adding to her stress, is the lack of technology on this planet. The Humanoids didn’t give us any sort of manufacturing facilities. My anger is causing me to sense feelings of rage and what I suppose is the emotion called hate.
“History tells me, and I’m sure I would declare war if the Humanoids were within my reach. But how would I produce weapons without mining, materials, development, and manufacturing facilities? The issues we face are many, and Humanoid nearsighted optimism has caused our food shortages, increased radiation poisoning, and limited pharmaceutical production.
“My mind wanders, and the sheer mental dullness of our population exacerbates the entirety of the issues. Following twelve generations of people incapable of anger, aggression, and hate. Yes, hate. Without these dark feelings and their associated emotions causing determined actions to fight back, our people know only too well how to accept these consequences. I grow weary of acceptance and their ideals for—Live in the moment and try not to cause a ripple in the fabric of things just the way they are.
‘Stop with the rant and the rage. Solving the Humanoid-caused suffering of the people isn’t what I have come here to think about. A bigger problem in my immediate future needs to be addressed. Now is the time to end the momentum for putting family one’s neurolink in my brain. Once and for all, mother will have to accept my decision. I will not be family one’s future.’
“She turned onto her left side, facing away from me, and cuddled her backside up against me as I sat, propped up in the middle of her gigantic bed. With her on my left side. My head and shoulders against the well-padded royal blue headboard hold me in a slumber position. I fluff a pillow and place it between my mid-back and the mattress. With my right hand, I grasp the dark gray, well-grooved and bulb-shaped handle of the duel-edge dagger. Testing my grip and the feel, then reminding myself why I brought it with me for this visit with mom.
@@@@@@5
“Would you mind if I ask some questions about your and Mahá’s Buddhist philosophy?”
