TRAVELER

Chapter 12

Shapter 12

           Diadic had dredged up the old ways of the ancient revivalists. He was a guru, a spiritual counselor, and an enlightened being. He knew the ancient revivalista had never planned to die off, but things happen in the grand scheme of things, and he was sorry to say; they hadn’t made it. He had stumbled on their writings when a planet was being abandoned, just before everything was sold off and its precious ball of hydrogen was moved to another system that needed a solar transplant.

The writings of the ancient revivalist were a treasure trove of information for enlightenment. All things esoteric intrigued him and he had sifted for days through the literature. Within a week Diadic had transferred everything into his consciousness, opening new avenues of awareness. He was stuffed full of knowledge.

           Diadic wasn’t always steeped in an abundance of joy. He wasn't always happy. He had been a traveler of the worst kind, leaving a trail of disillusioned friends bleeding in the ditch as he bludgeoned his way to nirvana. But as every sojourner before him, he was never truly satisfied. It was the age old conundrum, an eternal predicament of the human condition. No matter how hard we searched, or how much we discovered, it was never enough. And it never would be. We weren’t designed that way.

           His balcony overlooked the villa below, at the end of the street winding down the valley to where it met the ocean. The cabin was sparse; two rooms for him, his wife and their son. The roof leaked through cracks in century old epoxy while the color pigment had faded from the carbon tile and the windows were smudged in a sandblasted haze from the relentless sea breeze off the western ocean. Even now Diadic could see the burn of small shuttles entering the atmosphere with today’s load of seekers. They would land out on floating platforms just over the horizon so as not to taint the atmosphere with noise; then hovercraft would use sail power to pilot into the marina. It was still hard for him to wrap his brain around the twenty million that passed through here. It was a desperate advent, the cry of the human spirit on its eternal pilgrimage.

A hint of Albraic music wafted across his awareness from a concert in the next valley, warm sounds that stirred the essence in his soul. He let out a short laugh as he went to say farewell to those who were required to depart today. Without exodus commitments, the planet would have sunk in a quagmire of overpopulation. People had to leave.

           His most important skill was teaching them enlightenment. Showing how it was available no matter where they were, if they chose it. Once they made a choice, there was no turning back, they were changed forever. But he also had a hidden agenda, a surprise of sorts, when the final curtain was lifted and the answer was nowhere to be found. It was a secret he chose to keep to himself. Only some chose this path.

           He never really waited for people to show up, they just came. From across the Galaxy, they came. Knowing Stephano was due to arrive had slipped his mind until he saw him across the room. Stephano waved and Diadic gave him a slight nod; favoritism was not a quality he embraced. But he knew a thing or two about Stephano and the others that came inside his body. He knew the fate of humanity weighed on their shoulders, even if they were unaware.

           After the remaining shuttles had expelled their precious cargo, Diadic raised his hand and the massive crowd fell silent. He scanned their presence, making personal connections with his mind as he spent an hour in calming silence. There were familiar faces, but one sent a ripple down his spine, hauntingly familiar, yet his mind was numb with recollection. Enlightened Alzheimer’s perhaps, he was older than even he could remember. But he knew that one was a part of the plan.

           “As believers in the path of enlightenment, I proclaim you all as royal sojourners on this most honored journey. Each of you has a destiny tied to your identity. Be strong and courageous.” It was a solitary time of introspection, then he dismissed them as they broke into their group assignments for the daily pilgrimage.

           I--Garentanda--took the hand linked to my most beautiful wife and headed up the hill, eager to view the ancient writings before we hiked to the forest.

           The path led to where a small lean-to covered some glass cases. There were the five books of ancient Earth, he had them here for all to see. These were the ones he retrieved from the spaceship so long ago. The same ship Stephano had just visited on Foxwood. There had been others like him there, raping what was left, but he had hidden these away and spread them across the Galaxy. Back there on Foxwood, the weather had been brutal and traveling was brutal. Diadic had almost died on that mountain before someone had saved him. Who was that? the time rifts left his conscious mind riddled like Swiss cheese. The face, oh the face. But he knew it had been his Guru, his predecessor, his most enlightened one, passing on the torch so long ago. Diadic had a brutal past, and now as always, the images flooded his consciousness, a strict reminder of who he used to be.

           We continued on into the forest where silence wrapped it’s warmness around us.

           Over the coastal range, Diadic wandered the ancient forests as the weight of humanity pressed low on his shoulders. The revivalists had shown him the way, but now he wasn’t as confident as he once was. What had happened to his unshakable faith?

           He was the one who transcended time, ancient beyond the years of civilization, he remembered the days of the master craftsmen, pounding furiously with their micro hammers as they fashioned elemental particles at the atomic level. From them had come the power to be like gods, but even that had passed away, and now it was up to him to pass the torch for another eternity.

           “Ohh, Garentanda, whoa to you; the burden you must carry.” Yet he knew it was going to be worth it. There was no denying fate had chosen, and chosen well, as far as Diadic was concerned. He heard the others coming up the trail behind him, laughing with the unencumbered spirit of youth, something he had forgotten long ago. But when they saw him, they became somber and confessed to the murder of the police officer.

           Diadic took him in his arms and comforted him.

           “Sometimes we have to sacrifice for the greater good. I need to talk to Stephano, then this will all be over.” As Stephano emerged from the core of his being, loud shouts in the woods indicated Hotchkiss was coming. Diadic looked him deep in the eyes. “Thank you for your selfless sacrifice.”

           The forlorn wail of agony pierced the still waters of the pool. A slight ripple emanated from somewhere as the cry continued, echoing into eternity. It was a cry of the human spirit realizing it’s mortality. The age old dilemma of our existence. Lonely, regretful, desperate for something more. A breath of life giving energy sustained me through it. The wailing subsided into gut wrenching sobs of emptiness. Then I left the sacred pool and ushered in the morning light, wiping the tears from my--Garentanda’s--face. I had been listening to myself, broken hearted but at peace with the knowledge I had already arrived at my destination a long time ago. I turned to see every broken relationship, every unfulfilled promise, every compromise I had ever made. And it all evaporated in the light.

           My vision blurred before snapping back to reality. Diadic stood over my body; burnt out candle stubs and empty glasses a testament to last night's going away party. We had missed the ship. The others laid around the room where we had made our plans for the pilgrimage. I thought I counted six. We had never left. My eyes pleaded for Diadic to answer the question, why?

           “Come, Garentanda, I have chosen you.” My mind reeled at the dream, it had seemed so real.

           “What about...” He smiled a knowing smile, his hand touching his belt involuntarily. I saw the strange craftsmanship of the buckle, the gleam in his eye, the joy residing behind those ancient eyes. Then I knew all there was to know, and it was already known by the one living inside. I felt different as he pulled me to my feet and we went outside. The morning air had never tasted so good as we walked to the small light drive ship waiting patiently for us.

           “Was it all a dream that seemed so real?” I asked.

           But Stephano’s body wasn’t there, he had been killed back at Outpost Iridani 876, a sacrifice for the preservation of humanity.

           All my seeking, all my striving was answered with one word from the ancient revivalists, and I found myself finally satisfied. I gave up trying to explain or convince; for me I was finally home, across the vast expanse of space and time I was finally home.

The End