The Weather Composer. The Battlefield is Born. Extracted from Chapter 1.
The room was bright. Fluorescent bulbs washed the walls even whiter; their restrained, high frequency hum crudely sang. Terran Kahn sat in an overstuffed leather chair that was tattered especially at the arms, where someone's nervous fingers had picked the leather to the point where tufts of white stuffing poked out like the heads of curious children. Terran struggled to find a comfortable position in the large chair, his feet, hovering above the tile floor. He was 12 years old, black hair with a slight curl, a serious face that always seemed to probe his environement. His most telling feature —his blue eyes— were set into a Persian face of balance and poise.
"To be onest, I don't recall", Dr. Evelyn Moralis said softly, shaking her head in a slow-motion funk. She was a psychologist, Harvard trained, top in her class, graduated with a doctorate in behavorial psychology at the promising age of twenty. She was considerd brilliant, witty, and of the 851 Ph.Ds. working at the Faculty Research Center, she was considered the human expert.
She was a slender woman in her early thirties, long, mostly black hair that was cut straight and tied in a ponytail that went to the middle of her back. Her hair was already graying near her temples. She was attractive, in a bookish sort of way. She had a certain austerity to her presence that gave her words more weight. She had married early, right after graduation from Harvard. She had fallen in love with a literature professor, and they had married six weeks before Surot.
Sunrot was the life-changing event for everyone and everything on earth. There had never been an event of such sweeping power to change life, for all life. Unfortunately, the change was for the worse. Sunrot was the result of an overactive sun that took earth backwards in time —not only in technology, but also in human population and sustenance platforma like agriculture and medicine.
Terran rephrased his question. "Then whom do you follow?"
"You mean, whose school of thought do I apply in my practice?"
Terran nodded.
"I'm a dabbler. I pick from many different schools of thought. I don't really have a particular resonance point. It really depends on the person I'm working with. Are you interested in such things?"
Dr. Moralis crossed her legs and opened a folder, looking away from Terran's eyes. He sees right through me, she thought.
"No", Terran said, shaking his head. "I don't understand why people so closely examine the personality of machines".
"Do you consider yourself a machine?"
Terran shook his head again. "No. But that's what you do, isn't it?"
Dr. Moralis smiled, shifting in her chair. It was the same kind of chair as Terran's, though in better condition. "Why do you think humans are machines"
"Humans are many things", Terran replied, "but the part that is a machine is the part that malfunctions, and so it's invariably the part you investigate...that you try to fix".
Dr. Moralis stared at her pen for a long second before she met Terran's eyes. "I'm not trying to fix anything, Terran. I don't think you're broken. I only wanted to get to know you better".
"Then ask the right questions", Terran whispered to himself.
Dr. Moralis frowned. "I couldn't hear you, Terran. Can you please speak louder?"
Terran remained perfectly still and silent.
Dr. Moralis sighed ever so slightly. She pulled a document from the folder on her lap and handed it to Terran. "Your psych profile was incomplete, Terran. Why didn't you answer all of the questions?"
Dr. Moralis held out the psych profile, but seeing that Terran was refusing it, she returned it to her lap with pursed lips. She couldn't hide her disappointment.
"Even your birthday?"
Terran shrugged, as if he suddenly didn't know how to speak English.
Sometimes, Dr. Moralis wished she had a window, so she could look away, as if something distracted her,and hide her frustrations. Though Terran wasn't a patient —in the clinical sense— he was a student that happened to have an IQ that eclipsed the brightest minds of the faculty. Mindful of this fact, Dr. Moralis was particularly sensitive to the pathologies of UHIQs (ultra-High Intelligende Quotiens). They tended to be stunted socially. They tended to be withdrawn. They tended to be selfishly absorbed in their own minds. Their egos were legendary.
Dr. Moralis tucked the profile into its folder. "you didn't answer me".
Terran took a measured glance in Dr. Moralis direction. "Your questionnaire was about subjective states of my mind and emotions. Because they're subjective, I didn't see relevance".
"You could have asked..."
"About what?"
"You could have asked for clarification".
"I didn't lack clarity".
"Will you complete the test?"
"Can you answer my question about the relevance?"
Dr. Moralis leaned forward in her chair. It was her way of emphasizing the importance of what she was about to say. "Terran, we test every student who comes into our Faculty Research Center. We use your answers to better understand how we can teach or guide you in your developpment. It helps us to be sensitive to your needs. What is it you're afraid of?"
"Nothing".
"Good. Then will you answer all of the questions?"
Terran looked around the sparse office. Above a bookcase, a small painting hung, slightly crooked. It showed a woman staring into a fishbowl. The woman's face was contemplative. Curious. The two foldfish, on the other hand, seemed to be blissfully unaware of their human watcher.
"I feel like one of those fish", Terran explained. "You see me inside a bowl, but I'm not really there. You want answers to questions that don't describe me. You ask me to conform to tests only because others have. You don't understand my reluctance, so, you see a pain that needs healing, when no pain exists. I think you should let the questionnaire go. Perhaps ask... different questions".
It was the longest Terran had spoken, and Dr. Moralis was encouraged. She leaned back in her chair.
"Can you give me an example of a question that you would feel is relevant to you?"
"Okay... when I said that I was not in the bowl... didn't that summon a question in you?"
"Like...?"
"Then, where are you?" Terran said, his voice inflecting her tone.
"Okay, if you're not in the bowl, where are you?" Dr. Moralis asked, her eyelids fluttering at the reproach of a boy who barely looked 12 years old.
"I don't want to be watched", Terran said. "I don't want to be analyzed. I don't require your sensitivity. Every time you look at me", Terran's eyes closed, "you see what your mind fabricates, and not what I am".
Dr. Moralis looked away, her heartbeat fumbling. "How do you know this? How do you know that I can't see you? The real you."
"Your questions tell me".
"Yes, but isn't that how I learn about you... I ask questions?"
"If your mind is full of classifications, you try to sort people into categories. You ask questions to find out where to sort me. Which bowl should I be placed into? You presume that because I didn't answer your questions on the assessment, and now in this interview, that I'm an adversary who must be turned into a willing subject —otherwise, how will I be knowable? I'm not an adversary nor will I ever be a willing subject. So, what is it that we have to talk about? Again, relevance..."
Dr. Moralis looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. Working with UHIQs was never easy. "Tell me why you think you're here?"
"In this room or at the Faculty Research Center?"
"The latter".
"My intelligence".
"What makes your intelligence so interesting to FRC?"
"I'm young, so they hope I can be molded. I'm brighter than most, so they hope I can invent technologies that would be useful to humanity —the Greater Nation".
"Your modesty is noble", Dr. Moralis praised, "but you and I both know that your intelligence is not merely than most. It's brighter than all —by a substantial margin. That makes you a person of interest.There's something about you that's unique —something that's never been on this planet before. That's why I'm interested in talking with you. As for your assumptions that I'm trying to categorize you, I won't deny my interest in fitting you into a category, but the larger part of me knows that we don't have a category for you... or a bowl, if you'd prefer".
Dr. Moralis smiled, then placed the folder on her desk.
"Can you turn off the overhead lights?" Terran asked.
"Are they bothering you?"
Terran nodded.
"I have candles..."
"Thank you, candles would be good", Terran said softly.
Dr. Moralis pulled out some candles from her desk drawer and lit them, walked over to her door, and flipped the switch to "off". Then, she walked back to her desk, pausing with her hand on the table lamp. "Do you want this one off, as well?"
Terran nodded. "Yes, please"
Dr. Moralis flipped the switch, and the table lamp turned off.Two candles were left, their flames modulating atop their saddles of creamy, white wax. The room was quieter, darker, and the walls were more alive with shadows and movement.
"Thank you", Terran said quietly."
"I think I like it better, too. It's earthier".
"Yes"
Dr. Moralis returned to her chair, and adjusted her bleck-framed glasses. "You've been here all of two weeks, and already President Stanton and some of his staff are coming to meet you. How does that make you feel?"
"Indebted".
"In what way?"
Terran shrugged his shoulders. "I'll find out when he arrives".
"You sound like you have suspicions.. do you?"
"This word, suspicions. It means that I have feelings or thoughts that something is possible or potentially true. It can also mean that I have feelings or a belief that someone is guilty of an illegal, dishonest, or unpleasant action. Which of these meanings were you intending?"
"Um..."Dr. Moralis looked upwards to the ceiling. "I'll let you decide".
"He holds power. I hold intelligence. I'm suspicious that he wants my intelligence to be the servant of his power".
"Perhaps his power will be the servant of your intelligence", Dr. Moralis said, and then hesitated for a moment, as if she were trying to remember something elusive.
"You met him already, didn't you?"
Terran nodded.
"I've never met him", Dr. Moralis said wistfully. "What did you think of him... when you met him?"
"He's a man of extravagance. I'm not sure if he's sympathetic to the plight of the everyday family".
She blinked hard opened her eyes again —he was back. What's happening?
"Your husband died in the first wave... when I was born", Terran said, his voice distant, yet calm. "He was a teacher... of language and story".
"How... how do you know this?" Dr. Moralis' voice trembled in alarm.
"Your hands are full of other people's concerns", Terran replied cryptically. "They can hold no more, and you, with both hands full, choose emptiness".
Dr. Moralis blinked in forced, slow motion, hoping that each time she opened her eyes, the room would be normal again: Terran would be sitting; the conversation would be therapeutic; and the feeling of a powerful presence would be gone! Her hopes turned to tears. Why am I crying? It was the first question she had asked of herself for a long time.
"Why am I crying?" This time she said it out loud, as the tears flowed down her cheeks.
"Because you have lost your relationship with the universe".
"How...how could I even have such a relationship? I... I think it's something else. What are you doing to me? Are you... are you hypnotizing me? Please, stop this!"
"Dr. Moralis, you're the one who asked about the Mahdi".
"I didn't mean I... I wanted to experience... whatever the Mahdi is... it's... it's scaring me".
"Whay are you afraid?"
"Because you... you... you can't exist".
"Why can't I exist?"
Dr. Moralis' tone shifted from fear to scorn. "There're eight billion reasons! My late husband was one of them! Any force, creator, god, spirit or whatever else you want to call it; that would do that... that would put the human race into such... such a terrible mess, they hardly deserve faith —they deserve contempt! If you exist, then it means you allowed this to happen, and that... only a demon could do".
The last candle suddenly went out, plunging the room into total darkness. Dr. Moralis' heart churned in terror.Without any sound, suddenly, a universe of light filled the room. It was as if the modest room had transformed into the scale of the universe. She was swimming in a universe of blackness punctuated with trillions upon trillions of tiny lights, clustered into galaxies too numerous to count.
"The universe is more complex than mathematics can depict", Terran said. "Its complexity is a form of intelligent energy —every single particle. Each particle is an essence of this intelligence, and it surpasses any individual life form, planet, star, solar system, even an entire galaxy".
In the microscopic light of the universe, she could see Terran sitting in his chair, she knew that she was also sitting, and they were both in her office, yet at the same time, a vast universe was inexplicably present. Her mind was unable to reconcile what she saw. Her eyes were open, she was awake, she stared hard into the room and there was no doubt as to the galaxies that swirled around them. There was movement —almost imperceptible movement, but motion just the same. It was alive. It was stunningly beautiful. Vast. Powerful. Unconditioned. It was an inscrutable paradox.
"Am I dreaming?"
"No".
"Then what I am doing... what's happening here?"
"You have a relationship with this. I wanted to remind you".
"This... what is this?"
Terran waved his hand, and the universe moved aside, and a portal of some kind opened. It was tiny at first. Then it swelled in size. It grew larger with each breath she took, until there was a sense of movement, and the portal seemed to swallow them. They were in another universe. Similar, yet strangely different. Colors were more brilliant. The blackness richer. The galactic presence less common.
"Where are we?"
"In consciousness".
"What does that mean?"
"I wanted to show you how our universe, as immense and seemingly infinite as it appears, is only one part of a larger, interconnected, intelligent structure that guides all life right down to the individual particle—"
"How, then, did it guide Sunrot?"
"Events occur from strings of cause and effect. Sometimes the cause reaches from one universe to another; one galaxy to another; one star to another; one star to a planet; and from that planet to its supported life. These cosmological event strings re-pattern and re-grid entire galaxies. They reverberate everywhere in that galaxy. The one thing that is never lost is the individuated consciousness. The particle that is you. The soul".
"Why show me this? How is it supposed to help me?"
"Feel the majesty of your home".
"My home?"
"This is your home". Terran spread his arms out, and the universes shifted. Thousands of universes swept across the room, one after the other in an endless procession. She immediately felt as insignificant as a mote of dust, yet at the same time, larger than a universe —as large as an infinite number of universes. It was an extraordinarily peculiar feeling, and she consciously reined in her experience, because she felt her mind —vested in a rigid singularity— was being stretched beyond its limits.
"I don't know if I can handle this..."
"You can, or you wouldn't have asked to see it".
"I didn't ask..."
"You asked thousands of times. All of the books you searched, the study of the human mind, these were all the result of your question. Here, right here, you can see your answer —not merely in words written from another's mind, you can feel it".
As Terran spoke the final two words, Dr. Moralis felt an indescribable presence overcome her. It was a tsunami of joy, ecstasy, love and a hundred other emotions that poured over her in a way that cleansed all doubt. She could only close her eyes, listen to her breath, wait. She was the heritor something profound —beyond her mind or body. An alternate world, a cathedral of light ensconced her, and she began to weep uncontrollably. Her body shook, but it felt so far away that she didn't care.
It was a human fragment of something far grander. She had a profound relationship with the universes. She did!
Suddenly, she was back in her body. She felt the dampness of her tear-stained blouse. The room was black. There was a humming sound, but she was quite certain it was only in her mind.
"Now what?" Dr. Moralis asked. Her voice sounded strange to her. "What do I do now?"
"Take the mold we have created, and fill it with love, so I may hand it over".
"What?"
"That is what you say next".
"What do you mean... next?"
"You asked 'what now?' I'm explaining... that is what is next. You create a mold with the universe that can hold whatever you desire for the universe to pour into it".
"Anything?"
"Anything of wisdom. Anything that is aligned to the inteligence of the universe."
"Say it again, please."
"Take the mold we have created, and fill it with love, so I may hand it over."
"What does it mean?"
"When you stand before the universe in prayer, you create a mold," Terran explained. "You ask the universe to pour love into this mold —this impression you have formed with it— and with this inpouring of love, you will pass it on. You will hand it over to others."
Dr.Moralis reached behind her, fumbling for a box of tissues that she knew was on the corner of her desk. Usually, they were reserved for her patients, but today, as fate decreed, she was the patient. She blew her nose, took a deep, shaky breath, and wondered how her life could possibly be the same.
"I can ask the universe to create a mold, and then it will fill it?"
"Yes."
"With anything that is aligned to its intelligence?"
"Yes."
"How do I know what that is?"
"You don't."
"Then how can I ask?"
"I just taught you."
"There's only one thing I can ask for... to fill my mold?"
"There are variations."
"Like what?"
"Like compassion, beauty, understanding, empathy, wisdom, courage, humility, piety, abundance, and forgiveness, to name a few. These are all facets of the one thing that truly identifies our universe in its most vibrant state: Love."
"And what of evil? Isn't our universe also the refuge for evil?"
"It provides no refuge. Evil takes. Evil imposes. Evil creates separation from the universe. In many ways, evil is separation from the universe. It is seeing yourself as separate from all that is out there, and because of this separation, you believe you can subordinate, manipulate, castigate, and even rule over others to the point of killing them. It is separation that is evil."
"Without evil there can be no good. Right?" asked Dr. Moralis. "Without hate there can be no love."
"The love you felt was not the opposite of hate. It's authentic. It's not a derivative or a shadow of something divine. Its's divinely clear, transparent, the servant of all life. This is love."
"How do I know the difference?"
"You feel the difference. You discriminate between frequencies of love, recognizing that it has many levels, and within those levels, many facets. Love is not a single thing, but as you just discovered, it is an intelligent unity that serves."
Dr. Moralis was slowly returning to her human self. Her voice sounded familiar again. Her body felt solid, sitting on a firm chair. She thought about standing up and turning on her desk lamp, but she wasn't quite ready to stand.
"I never heard you say anything about God, Allah, Mohammed, Jesus, Spirit... any of those names. Why?"
"Because they are specific to this planet, their meaning does not extend into the mansion, only the tiny closet in the cellar we call earth. If I use those terms, I draw lines. I cut up the picture. Everything collapses into history —into time."
"It's ironic that you're the Mahdi," Dr. Moralis said.
"It's a hindrance, these titles, but it will not change what I do or the way I do it".
"Who knows about you —The Mahdi?"
"Dr. Sinclair, and now, you".
"Why do we know?"
"You asked".
"Is that all it takes... to ask?"
"It's not all, but it is most".
"Can I share this with anyone?"
"No. Dr. Sinclair explained that my teachers are atheists. They will avoid me if they think I'm a religious figurehead —the successor of Mohammed, no less".
"I don't know if you can bottle this up", Dr. Moralis said.
"It's a presence in you. Can you control it?"
"I'm learning".
Source: Sumbola
"To be onest, I don't recall", Dr. Evelyn Moralis said softly, shaking her head in a slow-motion funk. She was a psychologist, Harvard trained, top in her class, graduated with a doctorate in behavorial psychology at the promising age of twenty. She was considerd brilliant, witty, and of the 851 Ph.Ds. working at the Faculty Research Center, she was considered the human expert.
She was a slender woman in her early thirties, long, mostly black hair that was cut straight and tied in a ponytail that went to the middle of her back. Her hair was already graying near her temples. She was attractive, in a bookish sort of way. She had a certain austerity to her presence that gave her words more weight. She had married early, right after graduation from Harvard. She had fallen in love with a literature professor, and they had married six weeks before Surot.
Sunrot was the life-changing event for everyone and everything on earth. There had never been an event of such sweeping power to change life, for all life. Unfortunately, the change was for the worse. Sunrot was the result of an overactive sun that took earth backwards in time —not only in technology, but also in human population and sustenance platforma like agriculture and medicine.
Terran rephrased his question. "Then whom do you follow?"
"You mean, whose school of thought do I apply in my practice?"
Terran nodded.
"I'm a dabbler. I pick from many different schools of thought. I don't really have a particular resonance point. It really depends on the person I'm working with. Are you interested in such things?"
Dr. Moralis crossed her legs and opened a folder, looking away from Terran's eyes. He sees right through me, she thought.
"No", Terran said, shaking his head. "I don't understand why people so closely examine the personality of machines".
"Do you consider yourself a machine?"
Terran shook his head again. "No. But that's what you do, isn't it?"
Dr. Moralis smiled, shifting in her chair. It was the same kind of chair as Terran's, though in better condition. "Why do you think humans are machines"
"Humans are many things", Terran replied, "but the part that is a machine is the part that malfunctions, and so it's invariably the part you investigate...that you try to fix".
Dr. Moralis stared at her pen for a long second before she met Terran's eyes. "I'm not trying to fix anything, Terran. I don't think you're broken. I only wanted to get to know you better".
"Then ask the right questions", Terran whispered to himself.
Dr. Moralis frowned. "I couldn't hear you, Terran. Can you please speak louder?"
Terran remained perfectly still and silent.
Dr. Moralis sighed ever so slightly. She pulled a document from the folder on her lap and handed it to Terran. "Your psych profile was incomplete, Terran. Why didn't you answer all of the questions?"
Dr. Moralis held out the psych profile, but seeing that Terran was refusing it, she returned it to her lap with pursed lips. She couldn't hide her disappointment.
"Even your birthday?"
Terran shrugged, as if he suddenly didn't know how to speak English.
Sometimes, Dr. Moralis wished she had a window, so she could look away, as if something distracted her,and hide her frustrations. Though Terran wasn't a patient —in the clinical sense— he was a student that happened to have an IQ that eclipsed the brightest minds of the faculty. Mindful of this fact, Dr. Moralis was particularly sensitive to the pathologies of UHIQs (ultra-High Intelligende Quotiens). They tended to be stunted socially. They tended to be withdrawn. They tended to be selfishly absorbed in their own minds. Their egos were legendary.
Dr. Moralis tucked the profile into its folder. "you didn't answer me".
Terran took a measured glance in Dr. Moralis direction. "Your questionnaire was about subjective states of my mind and emotions. Because they're subjective, I didn't see relevance".
"You could have asked..."
"About what?"
"You could have asked for clarification".
"I didn't lack clarity".
"Will you complete the test?"
"Can you answer my question about the relevance?"
Dr. Moralis leaned forward in her chair. It was her way of emphasizing the importance of what she was about to say. "Terran, we test every student who comes into our Faculty Research Center. We use your answers to better understand how we can teach or guide you in your developpment. It helps us to be sensitive to your needs. What is it you're afraid of?"
"Nothing".
"Good. Then will you answer all of the questions?"
Terran looked around the sparse office. Above a bookcase, a small painting hung, slightly crooked. It showed a woman staring into a fishbowl. The woman's face was contemplative. Curious. The two foldfish, on the other hand, seemed to be blissfully unaware of their human watcher.
"I feel like one of those fish", Terran explained. "You see me inside a bowl, but I'm not really there. You want answers to questions that don't describe me. You ask me to conform to tests only because others have. You don't understand my reluctance, so, you see a pain that needs healing, when no pain exists. I think you should let the questionnaire go. Perhaps ask... different questions".
It was the longest Terran had spoken, and Dr. Moralis was encouraged. She leaned back in her chair.
"Can you give me an example of a question that you would feel is relevant to you?"
"Okay... when I said that I was not in the bowl... didn't that summon a question in you?"
"Like...?"
"Then, where are you?" Terran said, his voice inflecting her tone.
"Okay, if you're not in the bowl, where are you?" Dr. Moralis asked, her eyelids fluttering at the reproach of a boy who barely looked 12 years old.
"I don't want to be watched", Terran said. "I don't want to be analyzed. I don't require your sensitivity. Every time you look at me", Terran's eyes closed, "you see what your mind fabricates, and not what I am".
Dr. Moralis looked away, her heartbeat fumbling. "How do you know this? How do you know that I can't see you? The real you."
"Your questions tell me".
"Yes, but isn't that how I learn about you... I ask questions?"
"If your mind is full of classifications, you try to sort people into categories. You ask questions to find out where to sort me. Which bowl should I be placed into? You presume that because I didn't answer your questions on the assessment, and now in this interview, that I'm an adversary who must be turned into a willing subject —otherwise, how will I be knowable? I'm not an adversary nor will I ever be a willing subject. So, what is it that we have to talk about? Again, relevance..."
Dr. Moralis looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. Working with UHIQs was never easy. "Tell me why you think you're here?"
"In this room or at the Faculty Research Center?"
"The latter".
"My intelligence".
"What makes your intelligence so interesting to FRC?"
"I'm young, so they hope I can be molded. I'm brighter than most, so they hope I can invent technologies that would be useful to humanity —the Greater Nation".
"Your modesty is noble", Dr. Moralis praised, "but you and I both know that your intelligence is not merely than most. It's brighter than all —by a substantial margin. That makes you a person of interest.There's something about you that's unique —something that's never been on this planet before. That's why I'm interested in talking with you. As for your assumptions that I'm trying to categorize you, I won't deny my interest in fitting you into a category, but the larger part of me knows that we don't have a category for you... or a bowl, if you'd prefer".
Dr. Moralis smiled, then placed the folder on her desk.
"Can you turn off the overhead lights?" Terran asked.
"Are they bothering you?"
Terran nodded.
"I have candles..."
"Thank you, candles would be good", Terran said softly.
Dr. Moralis pulled out some candles from her desk drawer and lit them, walked over to her door, and flipped the switch to "off". Then, she walked back to her desk, pausing with her hand on the table lamp. "Do you want this one off, as well?"
Terran nodded. "Yes, please"
Dr. Moralis flipped the switch, and the table lamp turned off.Two candles were left, their flames modulating atop their saddles of creamy, white wax. The room was quieter, darker, and the walls were more alive with shadows and movement.
"Thank you", Terran said quietly."
"I think I like it better, too. It's earthier".
"Yes"
Dr. Moralis returned to her chair, and adjusted her bleck-framed glasses. "You've been here all of two weeks, and already President Stanton and some of his staff are coming to meet you. How does that make you feel?"
"Indebted".
"In what way?"
Terran shrugged his shoulders. "I'll find out when he arrives".
"You sound like you have suspicions.. do you?"
"This word, suspicions. It means that I have feelings or thoughts that something is possible or potentially true. It can also mean that I have feelings or a belief that someone is guilty of an illegal, dishonest, or unpleasant action. Which of these meanings were you intending?"
"Um..."Dr. Moralis looked upwards to the ceiling. "I'll let you decide".
"He holds power. I hold intelligence. I'm suspicious that he wants my intelligence to be the servant of his power".
"Perhaps his power will be the servant of your intelligence", Dr. Moralis said, and then hesitated for a moment, as if she were trying to remember something elusive.
"You met him already, didn't you?"
Terran nodded.
"I've never met him", Dr. Moralis said wistfully. "What did you think of him... when you met him?"
"He's a man of extravagance. I'm not sure if he's sympathetic to the plight of the everyday family".
"Well, as politicians go, that seems to be a weakness in their profile".
Terran looked into Dr. Moralis' eyes and stared unforgivingly. "What were you planning to do with the psychological profile you gave me yesterday?"
She consciously willed herself to smile, reminding herself that this small, innocent looking boy possessed the mind of a vast intellect. She felt it would be best to dodge the question, lest she got trapped into a corner.
"Do you mind if I look over my notes?" Dr. Moralis asked as she reached behind her for a blue notebook on her desk.
Terran remained silent, knowing it was a rhetorical question.
Dr. Moralis leafed through the notebook with her head down, almost buried un the notebook, and then suddenly stopped on a page. She looked up. "Forgive me —my prescription is about nine years overdue. I can barely read anymore unless the print is right in front of me, especially when it's my own handwriting". She flashed a quick smile. "This light doesn't help either".
She turned around and grabbed a pencil, placing it in the spine of the open notebook. "Is it true that you were raised as the Mahdi since birthe?"
"Yes".
"Is this because you were identified early on as having a superior intellect or was there another reason?"
"It's because of a prophecy".
Terran looked uneasy for a moment, like one who was trapped. Then, a deep breath of resignation.
"The Mahdi is the Twelfth Imam, the one who guides all people to the one true religion of unity. He was prophesied to come during the end times... the Last Judgment".
"And do what?"
"To redeem the people. To save them".
"And Sunrot is the end times?"
Terran nodded.
"Do you believe the prophecy?" Dr. Moralis asked.
Terran closed his eyes. "Until I buried my teacher, no"
"You buried your teacher?" Dr. Moralis picked up her pencil and began to write in her notebook. "When?"
"Seventeen days ago".
"What happened?"
"I ran away from my tribe. I wanted to seek more advanced teachers. I needed a higher education than my teacher could provide me. He was a brilliant man, the best educated in the Baluchian nation, but he was one man. His knowledge was limited in many of the subjects that I was most interested in".
Terran paused for a moment. "When I ran away to Mashhad, a team was sent to return me. Javad, my teacher, was a member of this team of 12 men. I was at the school in Mashhad. I stayed there. Javad... he tried to convince me to return. I tried to convince him to saty with me. In the end, he decided to stay with me, but he was shot and killed.
"When I went to bury him that night, a presence came over me. It was a light —a great light—ancient light. It...it consumed me. In a way, it turned into me. It had always been inside me, waiting for the right time to make itself known".
"And you believe this light... it was the Mahdi?"
Terran nodded. "Since that experience, I've felt it is me".
Dr. Moralis sat back in her chair. Her mouth opened, as if to ask a question, but then she stopped. A strange silence entered the room. One of the candle flames suddenly began to flicker wildly, as if to divulge its need for more air or more wax.
The candle went out. The meager light in the room was cut in half.
"I'll get another candle", Dr. Moralis said, and started to get up.
"It's okay. Let it go".
Dr. Moralis sat back down with a quizzical look. She smoothed her sleeve on her blouse, taking time to compose herself. "I understand your extraction from Mashhad was very traumatic. How are you doing now?" Her voice softened, as if the lesser light had lessened her voice, too.
In dim light, things can be seen that sometimes frighten. Images appear like mirages. Shadows animate, then, disappear.
The scent of candle smoke filled the room, and Dr. Moralis felt enveloped by something she couldn't describe or understand. Stay calm, she told herself. Is he a mentalist? Maybe he's hypnotized me, and I didn't notice?
She saw a flash of light that seemed to erupt from Terran's chest. Then, it was gone. She squinted and looked again. Terran seemed to disappear.
She blinked hard opened her eyes again —he was back. What's happening?
"Your husband died in the first wave... when I was born", Terran said, his voice distant, yet calm. "He was a teacher... of language and story".
"How... how do you know this?" Dr. Moralis' voice trembled in alarm.
"Your hands are full of other people's concerns", Terran replied cryptically. "They can hold no more, and you, with both hands full, choose emptiness".
Dr. Moralis blinked in forced, slow motion, hoping that each time she opened her eyes, the room would be normal again: Terran would be sitting; the conversation would be therapeutic; and the feeling of a powerful presence would be gone! Her hopes turned to tears. Why am I crying? It was the first question she had asked of herself for a long time.
"Why am I crying?" This time she said it out loud, as the tears flowed down her cheeks.
"Because you have lost your relationship with the universe".
"How...how could I even have such a relationship? I... I think it's something else. What are you doing to me? Are you... are you hypnotizing me? Please, stop this!"
"Dr. Moralis, you're the one who asked about the Mahdi".
"I didn't mean I... I wanted to experience... whatever the Mahdi is... it's... it's scaring me".
"Whay are you afraid?"
"Because you... you... you can't exist".
"Why can't I exist?"
Dr. Moralis' tone shifted from fear to scorn. "There're eight billion reasons! My late husband was one of them! Any force, creator, god, spirit or whatever else you want to call it; that would do that... that would put the human race into such... such a terrible mess, they hardly deserve faith —they deserve contempt! If you exist, then it means you allowed this to happen, and that... only a demon could do".
The last candle suddenly went out, plunging the room into total darkness. Dr. Moralis' heart churned in terror.Without any sound, suddenly, a universe of light filled the room. It was as if the modest room had transformed into the scale of the universe. She was swimming in a universe of blackness punctuated with trillions upon trillions of tiny lights, clustered into galaxies too numerous to count.
"The universe is more complex than mathematics can depict", Terran said. "Its complexity is a form of intelligent energy —every single particle. Each particle is an essence of this intelligence, and it surpasses any individual life form, planet, star, solar system, even an entire galaxy".
In the microscopic light of the universe, she could see Terran sitting in his chair, she knew that she was also sitting, and they were both in her office, yet at the same time, a vast universe was inexplicably present. Her mind was unable to reconcile what she saw. Her eyes were open, she was awake, she stared hard into the room and there was no doubt as to the galaxies that swirled around them. There was movement —almost imperceptible movement, but motion just the same. It was alive. It was stunningly beautiful. Vast. Powerful. Unconditioned. It was an inscrutable paradox.
"Am I dreaming?"
"No".
"Then what I am doing... what's happening here?"
"You have a relationship with this. I wanted to remind you".
"This... what is this?"
Terran waved his hand, and the universe moved aside, and a portal of some kind opened. It was tiny at first. Then it swelled in size. It grew larger with each breath she took, until there was a sense of movement, and the portal seemed to swallow them. They were in another universe. Similar, yet strangely different. Colors were more brilliant. The blackness richer. The galactic presence less common.
"Where are we?"
"In consciousness".
"What does that mean?"
"I wanted to show you how our universe, as immense and seemingly infinite as it appears, is only one part of a larger, interconnected, intelligent structure that guides all life right down to the individual particle—"
"How, then, did it guide Sunrot?"
"Events occur from strings of cause and effect. Sometimes the cause reaches from one universe to another; one galaxy to another; one star to another; one star to a planet; and from that planet to its supported life. These cosmological event strings re-pattern and re-grid entire galaxies. They reverberate everywhere in that galaxy. The one thing that is never lost is the individuated consciousness. The particle that is you. The soul".
"Why show me this? How is it supposed to help me?"
"Feel the majesty of your home".
"My home?"
"This is your home". Terran spread his arms out, and the universes shifted. Thousands of universes swept across the room, one after the other in an endless procession. She immediately felt as insignificant as a mote of dust, yet at the same time, larger than a universe —as large as an infinite number of universes. It was an extraordinarily peculiar feeling, and she consciously reined in her experience, because she felt her mind —vested in a rigid singularity— was being stretched beyond its limits.
"I don't know if I can handle this..."
"You can, or you wouldn't have asked to see it".
"I didn't ask..."
"You asked thousands of times. All of the books you searched, the study of the human mind, these were all the result of your question. Here, right here, you can see your answer —not merely in words written from another's mind, you can feel it".
As Terran spoke the final two words, Dr. Moralis felt an indescribable presence overcome her. It was a tsunami of joy, ecstasy, love and a hundred other emotions that poured over her in a way that cleansed all doubt. She could only close her eyes, listen to her breath, wait. She was the heritor something profound —beyond her mind or body. An alternate world, a cathedral of light ensconced her, and she began to weep uncontrollably. Her body shook, but it felt so far away that she didn't care.
It was a human fragment of something far grander. She had a profound relationship with the universes. She did!
Suddenly, she was back in her body. She felt the dampness of her tear-stained blouse. The room was black. There was a humming sound, but she was quite certain it was only in her mind.
"Now what?" Dr. Moralis asked. Her voice sounded strange to her. "What do I do now?"
"Take the mold we have created, and fill it with love, so I may hand it over".
"What?"
"That is what you say next".
"What do you mean... next?"
"You asked 'what now?' I'm explaining... that is what is next. You create a mold with the universe that can hold whatever you desire for the universe to pour into it".
"Anything?"
"Anything of wisdom. Anything that is aligned to the inteligence of the universe."
"Say it again, please."
"Take the mold we have created, and fill it with love, so I may hand it over."
"What does it mean?"
"When you stand before the universe in prayer, you create a mold," Terran explained. "You ask the universe to pour love into this mold —this impression you have formed with it— and with this inpouring of love, you will pass it on. You will hand it over to others."
Dr.Moralis reached behind her, fumbling for a box of tissues that she knew was on the corner of her desk. Usually, they were reserved for her patients, but today, as fate decreed, she was the patient. She blew her nose, took a deep, shaky breath, and wondered how her life could possibly be the same.
"I can ask the universe to create a mold, and then it will fill it?"
"Yes."
"With anything that is aligned to its intelligence?"
"Yes."
"How do I know what that is?"
"You don't."
"Then how can I ask?"
"I just taught you."
"There's only one thing I can ask for... to fill my mold?"
"There are variations."
"Like what?"
"Like compassion, beauty, understanding, empathy, wisdom, courage, humility, piety, abundance, and forgiveness, to name a few. These are all facets of the one thing that truly identifies our universe in its most vibrant state: Love."
"And what of evil? Isn't our universe also the refuge for evil?"
"It provides no refuge. Evil takes. Evil imposes. Evil creates separation from the universe. In many ways, evil is separation from the universe. It is seeing yourself as separate from all that is out there, and because of this separation, you believe you can subordinate, manipulate, castigate, and even rule over others to the point of killing them. It is separation that is evil."
"Without evil there can be no good. Right?" asked Dr. Moralis. "Without hate there can be no love."
"The love you felt was not the opposite of hate. It's authentic. It's not a derivative or a shadow of something divine. Its's divinely clear, transparent, the servant of all life. This is love."
"How do I know the difference?"
"You feel the difference. You discriminate between frequencies of love, recognizing that it has many levels, and within those levels, many facets. Love is not a single thing, but as you just discovered, it is an intelligent unity that serves."
Dr. Moralis was slowly returning to her human self. Her voice sounded familiar again. Her body felt solid, sitting on a firm chair. She thought about standing up and turning on her desk lamp, but she wasn't quite ready to stand.
"I never heard you say anything about God, Allah, Mohammed, Jesus, Spirit... any of those names. Why?"
"Because they are specific to this planet, their meaning does not extend into the mansion, only the tiny closet in the cellar we call earth. If I use those terms, I draw lines. I cut up the picture. Everything collapses into history —into time."
"It's ironic that you're the Mahdi," Dr. Moralis said.
"It's a hindrance, these titles, but it will not change what I do or the way I do it".
"Who knows about you —The Mahdi?"
"Dr. Sinclair, and now, you".
"Why do we know?"
"You asked".
"Is that all it takes... to ask?"
"It's not all, but it is most".
"Can I share this with anyone?"
"No. Dr. Sinclair explained that my teachers are atheists. They will avoid me if they think I'm a religious figurehead —the successor of Mohammed, no less".
"I don't know if you can bottle this up", Dr. Moralis said.
"It's a presence in you. Can you control it?"
"I'm learning".
Source: Sumbola
