The dot, p.3
The Dot, page 3
“Why did you stop calling him father?” she asks. “You still call me mother and mom, but since you were three, you’ve called him Mahá.”
“It’s simple,” I said. “You are more like my actual mother than he is like my real father. My father is more aligned with The Source energy than Mahá. When my father and mother possessed your bodies and copulated, they planted me in your womb. I remember everything from that moment. Consciousness immediately manifested in my mind. Mahá doesn’t live in the mind the way my father does.
“He is driven by the subconscious mind. I mean, Mahá lives his life in his body, always relying on feelings and emotions to drive his actions. But you are more like my mother, like The Source. You live life in the mind, using thoughts to drive your performance. You do things by thought rather than waiting for an emotion.
“Does it bother you that I call you mom or call him Mahá? I’ll call him father if it makes you feel more comfortable.”
I can feel her relaxing as her body begins to accept the usual comforts of the familiar bed and the soft cues from the butter lamps. A gentle hint of the smell of warm gee fills the air.
“No. My intention in asking isn’t a request in disguise. I’m not wanting you to change the way you feel about him. Just as you said, your father, Mahá, is more hurt by it than he should be. His feelings do drive his emotions, and yes, those feelings give rise to his personality towards you. Don’t change anything. I was curious, that is all. Go on and ask what you wanted to ask before I interrupted.”
After placing the dagger on the bed beside my right leg, I fold my hands over my chest and ask, “What happens when a person dies? I mean, besides the obvious, the body no longer functions and begins to decay. What happens to a person’s consciousness, the awareness of who we are? Does it simply disappear?”
“No consciousness never ends,” she says. “The Source energy that fills the body has no beginning and no end. Death is a transition state or what we call, bardo existence. The bardo is a passage between one existence and the next. As consciousness leaves the human body, there is a clinging and craving for the habits and the comforts that have been part of human existence. For a while, consciousness is aware of the routines, it’s like you can still want that first cup of tea in the morning, the conversation in the kitchen with all the sharecroppers, a slice of warm zucchini bread, and so on. But now, it can’t materialize those desires anymore. There is no manifestation of the familiar, and so craving and desire begin to permeate.
“Many believe, and it has been written in the Tibetan Book of the Dead and the Tibetan Book of the Matrix, that our consciousness can see and hear for several days following death. This can cause confusion because no one can see the dead person or reply to them even though they are speaking. Consciousness isn’t aware of death. Not right away. This awareness is keen to our practice. We are diligent in our daily practice and, through meditation, become aware of awareness and conscious of consciousness. With the single intention of preparing for this entrance into a death bardo.
“The moment our consciousness realizes itself, by recognizing the illusions are manifestations of its own thoughts, then there is instant liberation from existence. We make our own reality through our thinking. However, the longer consciousness remains in the bardo in a state of confusion, the more likely it will remain trapped in this three-dimensional universe. First, we are engulfed by confusion and then craving and desire, and eventually, fear and terror consume us until, in an act of desperation, we grab hold of the first resemblance of anything that looks familiar. This grasping has consequences that can lead to hell, rebirth in the animal or insect realms, or possibly even worse.”
“So then, if I am understanding the death bardo correctly,” I interject. “When a person such as your uncle, our former King, who has had extreme alzheimer disease for years and then dies, what chance of liberation for him? None?”
While she takes a moment to consider what I’ve asked, I feel eager to take the next step. There’s so little for me to gain from this conversation. This is all for her benefit and for her transition into the bardo of death. Because I already know how this conversation will end, and I know everything about the philosophy of Buddhism and its simplistic here and now—present moment—that fails everyone. People are too ignorant, they’re too weak to know the truth of it.
Finally, she answers me.
“The worst case of death is to die in terror or pain. Then there is death that comes when a person is unconscious. The best case is to know when death is close at hand, and it is then that a person can more easily recognize and prepare for the entrance into the bardo.”
My hand slides across my chest and down my side to again find the dagger. I put the handle of it in a tight grip. The adrenaline courses through my every cell and fiber.
“Mom, why did the oracle tell you you wouldn’t see my sixth year, and here I am, almost twelve years old now?”
She turns herself toward me and partway onto her back. “That’s an odd question, Zosimos. I suppose that we all realize the oracle isn’t always correct. That is to say, her interpretation of The Source isn’t always obvious.”
“Do you want to know what I think, Mother? I think the oracle was correct. You see, it was five years ago when Mahá made me king.”
It was then, in an instant of one quick motion, I pulled the dagger across her neck. I could feel the blade cross the hard bone of her spine. The bed covers are turning red so fast that I am surprised.
She never said a word or tried to say anything. She closed her eyes.
“Goodbye, mother.”
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“You guys might find it morbid,” I say to Terrence and Habin, back here in my palace living room. “I laid beside her and talked to her for several minutes before leaving.”
Terrence and Habin are expressionless as they sit like two schoolboys listening to me recalling the story of Visákhá’s death three months ago. I watch their eyes and facial expressions as I realize they don’t understand murder or any acts born out of anger. Our population hasn’t experienced anger for over twelve generations when you include the first four generations on the spacecraft that brought our forefathers here. Even when Terrence slugged that kid in school, he wouldn’t have done that act of rage without me first telling him to.
‘A population of complacency and mediocrity surrounds me.’
A planet of people who can’t think their way out of the city bathhouse, much less save themselves from an existential crisis. They all think they’re smart with all the science they’ve gained from their bloodlines. Passed down from one generation to the next. They have learned how to plan and plan and plan... but none can execute or come close to taking the correct course of action.
“What did you say to your mom while she lay dead next to you? What was so important to say that you needed to get off your mind? There you are after taking her all the way to the bardo and sliding your rapier dagger across her throat. She slips into death beside you and then . . . ?” Terrence asks, shrugging.
Before answering him, “Drink your tea,” I tell them, watching like a cliff bird stalking a carcass for any sign of meat to devour. Careful and in ultra-slow motion, they pick up their cups and drink. Perhaps for the first time in their lives, they have just now performed a task with full consciousness and mindfulness of each movement. The sounds of them slurping still grate at my nerves. After they finish the drink, returning the cups to the bone-white saucers with every cautious movement as before when they lifted the cups, I continue to explain.
“There was nothing I needed to get out of my mind. I just wanted to let her know once more, for the thousandth time again, that I do not want my great uncle’s neurolink implant. I want Mahá’s. His device is one of the few remaining with any true integrity.
“Once our ancestors landed, they downloaded all the first-generation neurolinks into the one set of replacement bio-devices the Humanoids provided us. Now we are stuck with these eight hundred-year-old bio-mechanics. They have all but become useless.
“Anyway, I got out of her bed and blew out all the butter lamps. The smoke mingled with the wet-metal-like smell of her blood, so powerful it leaves a metallic taste in my mouth. I swallowed hard and left her there in the blood-soaked sheets, mattress, and the blackness.
“Pay attention now, you two. Because now the actions are going to make the story more profound, and it turns from dark and mysterious to pure black and evil. This is where your role as my foot soldiers become defined.
“After donning the protective robe and my full headgear, I got into a cart that I had programmed to be waiting for me outside. The cart took me down the mountain and onto Orchard Road, all the way to the witch of Ziran’s house. Once I arrived at Vallena’s garden home. Determined I went inside. There, I found the two of them fast asleep in bed together. Mahá and Vallena are both naked, and the smell of their lovemaking still permeates the room.
“Quiet as a seed opening when it sprouts its roots into the soil, I stand at the foot of the bed looking at them. Her body is hideous. She has nothing between her legs that could make any man desire it and no tits to desire either. I can’t understand why my father wants this scamp when he already has the most beautiful woman in the Galaxy at the top of the mountain in his true home.
I can hear the conscious machine and its supercomputer in the backroom. It’s playing the song, Drive by Joe Bonamassa.
‘Idiots have a conscious machine at their disposal, but the only thing they can accomplish is to have it play music!’
“Watch this monitor over here on the wall.” I point at the huge wall display behind me and start to transmit the video memory from the neurolink inside my brain. It was once inside his head, but now it is mine.
“What you’re about to see are the final thoughts and images in the life of Mahá,” I tell them as the neurolink begins to transmit.—
“What was that? Is that Zosimos calling me?” ‘Dad, dad. Wake up, dad.’ “He called me dad. This must be a dream.” My eyes open, and there, standing beside the bed, is Zosimos. “What is it, son? What’s the matter?” As I rise onto my elbows, I feel a sudden stabbing pain in my chest. “What the hell is that? My chest feels like it’s on fire.” I look down and see my son’s hand holding the handle of my ceremonial dagger with the blade of it buried inside me. I fall back onto the bed and feel a sharp, stinging, and burning sensation in my throat. I open my eyes again to see him pulling a second dagger from my neck. My eyes turn to look at Vallena, and I try to use my arm and hand to pull the covers up over her exposed naked body.
The wall display goes black.
“Well, that was it for Mahá, boys, I say to them when the monitor goes black. He didn’t even have thought about why or what was going on. He just laid there quite-minded and died. What happens next? I’ll have to tell you because I didn’t have his neurolink in my head yet. So listen close.”
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“When his warm, wet, red blood seeps into the sheets and makes its way to Vallena, it stirred her into an awake consciousness. At first, she looked confused at seeing me standing there. From her slumber state, she put the pieces together. She looked at the blood-soaked dagger in each of my hands. Then she looks at the bloody sheets. But when she looks over at Mahá lying next to her with his nearly severed head, she screamed.
“Her scream was so loud I thought the entire population, even those living on top of the mountain, would hear it. The pain she felt down to her core was projected from those screams. She expressed sorrow with such sincerity that it nearly brought tears to my eyes. I had to focus and use my determination to push the emotion away. Then I used the anger and the rage I felt for her and Mahá, the anger they put inside me. That anger made it possible to watch her without further remorse or care.
“Several minutes passed as she knelt beside him on the bed and screamed for him not to leave. She begged for the Universal Source to mend him. After a while, she stood out of the bed and confronted me. Begging for me to end her pain and take her life. With both hands, she raised the dagger held in my left hand to her throat. But all she got from me was my icy stare.
“Spinning the daggers in my hands like an old west gunslinger spinning his pistols, I made my way around the witch and stood behind her. There I pressed myself against her trembling and naked body. With my left arm around the top of her shoulder, I placed the dagger’s blade against her throat. She surrendered herself to my hold. With my right hand, I moved the other blade slowly down the front of her body, starting at the cleft of her throat, then over her breasts and lower still, past her abdomen. I whispered in her ear when I reached the top of her pubic bone.
“It won’t be you I kill next, Vallena. Perhaps your brother or his handsome young son would be more pleasing and suit me. No. I think I will kill your mother next time, or even your father.
“It was with the mention of her father that I feel her shoulder slump and see her head twitch ever so slightly. These signals told me what I want to know. The father was her weakness. With this knowledge, I continued to tame the witch of Ziran.
“Yes, your father will be my next target for blood. What is it he does? I remember. He’s the manager of a large peach tree orchard, isn’t he?” She didn’t say a word. Only sobs and her body shook uncontrollably.
“How well do you think he can manage the orchard with just one hand? Or with just one arm? I don’t want to kill your relatives all at once. I’m going to torture everyone in your family by slowly removing parts of their body.”
“Please,” she cried. “Don’t hurt anyone else. Just me. Please kill me and be done with it.”
“I’m not going to kill you, Vallena. I need you to do something very, very important for me. If you do it, I will spare your family.”
“You fucking sadistic, Aphophis. What would you have me do to serve you?” Her voice was shrill. The bubbles from her tears and snot covered her mouth and formed with her words.
In my right hand, I turned the dagger so the blade was in my palm and then pressed the handle up between her legs, where no woman should have a dagger handle pushed in. She squirmed and tried to pull away, but using my superior strength, I held her firmly in place.
There was an odd growing sensation of lust that I was enjoying. The distraction of arousal was caused by holding her firm, smooth, nude body against me. After several minutes, I caught myself and pushed the lust away. Then I give her my instructions for her life’s tasks ahead.
“Do you know the Earth legend of Adam and Eve being cast out of the garden of Eden by God because of their sins?”
“Yes. Everyone knows that ancient biblical story.”
“Did you know it wasn’t a snake dangling from a tree branch that tempted Eve to act on her lust-filled passions? It wasn’t her apple that Eve wanted Adam to eat underneath that apple tree? It was something she enjoyed teasing him with. Now it’s time for you to be like Eve and put your dirty lust-filled desire for his cock and use your pussy to torment him.
“I want the seed from the Bodhisattva. Get his seed and impregnate yourself with his child.” I spit the words through my clenched teeth directly into her ear.
“What bodhisattva? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spoke now without tears.
“Don’t be diffident, you home-wrecking whore. The one you love, the man who left you for his faith. Say his name.” I pushed the blade handle all the way inside her. Twisting and turning it, adding to her physical discomfort.
“Kelv,” she barely whispered it.
“Louder!”
“Kelv. You want me to fuck Kelv. But I can’t get pregnant. I have no ovaries, no fallopian tubes.”
“Get me his seed and bring it to me.”
“How will I do that? He left here more than ten years ago. Nobody knows where he is.”
“Look out that window there.” I turned her slightly to the left so she could see outside. The two of you were loading materials, plants, food, and water into a set of carts.
“Those carts that Terrence and Habin are loading will take you to a small house far from the Orchards and further still from the Mountain. Once you arrive, you will have two weeks to get everything in place and make it your new coven. Install all your magic and spells and devise a plan to bring me his sperm. If you fail, those two boys you see out the window there. They will visit your family and begin taking their body parts. You will know which parts because I will have them delivered to you. So stop pretending you don’t know where to find Kelv. You have been taking care of him and leaving him supplies since he left. You see, Vallena, I know everything.
“Now get dressed. Get in the cart and go get me his seed.”
Chapter Two, Vallena
STORY TOLD IN THE PRESENT moment by the witch, Vallena.
There are very few ways to hide in public when you are a foot taller than everyone else. In a small population, where there are three people who are taller than me, Mahá, Kelv, and Zosimos, a disguise is difficult. So, I’m dressed in full protective gear so no one can see my face, and I'm doing my best to imitate the stride and body language of Zosimos as I make my way up Commerce Road. I’m on a mission that takes me into the commercial district where I’ll find my worst enemy, who is, today, my only hope. Though I feel he stripped the soul out of my body, I force myself to use positive thinking on this mission to her crypt and ask her for help.
Entering the crypt, I see their corpses in an honorable, full-on display. The bodies are dressed in royal garments and seated on thrones for everybody to visit and pay reverence to. Mahá and Visákhá have been seated here for the past five days and are now ready for tomorrow’s cremation ceremony. My heart breaks. I can still see the vision of that murder, and I suffer in the agony of him lying dead on my bed, but I can’t let the emotion take over. Right now, I have to keep my mind focused on the task ahead.
If I can’t convince the oracle to work with me, I lose all hope for the people of Ziran. As that murdering, sadist, our not-so-beloved King, Zosimos, will reign in unchecked tyranny. Slaughtering whomever he wishes and setting his two idiot thugs loose on rampages of torture and abuse.
