Wayfarer - Satori Part 5

Andrew chuckled to himself as he thought over his plan once more. Perfect. And Chandra would be an enthusiastic partic.i.p.ant, he knew. Especially if the kidnapped native was a female! Or even a male, for that matter. Chandra didn't seem to be particular, just l.u.s.tful. And brutal. In a way he pitied the poor captive. It wouldn't be any fun being caught by Chandra. Oh, not that any major or permanent damage would be done. Except maybe to the ego or self-esteem. But that was really all to the best, since a weakened ego made probing that much easier. Yes, yes, it all fit together quite nicely.

In the admiral's quarters, Thomas Yamada was ready to turn in when a call came over his comm-unit. He was about to slap the copy b.u.t.ton when he noticed the call numbers. They were a special code, known only to himself and one other person aboard the scout. He hit the scramble key and sat down to receive the man's report.

A few moments later, as he hit the wipe-and-clear key, his mind was swirling. "So," he muttered, "you b.a.s.t.a.r.d, you scheming b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Getting up from the comm-unit, he walked out into the front sitting room, over to the bar, and poured himself a stiff whiskey. He took a healthy gulp, then went and sat in his easy chair. Sipping slowly, he began to think.

So Thwait's going to kidnap a native, eh? Then do a transfer to that heretic he'd wiped the other day and send the man down as a spy. Grudgingly, he had to admit the plan was clever. And the draining of the native afterward, plus the little trick with the double transmitter, was a beautiful twist. Just the kind ofthing that would give the bishop the edge on information and allow him to control the plan for contact and subjugation of the planet. d.a.m.n, but Andrew's devious, he cursed.

A sudden idea hit him. Devious? G.o.d! What if...? He almost hesitated to think it. But what if his spy was really a double agent, working for the bishop? Oh, he knew the man worked for the bishop, had for thirteen years, but what if this whole thing was a ploy to feed him phony information? s.h.i.t! Thwait was capable of it, no doubt about it.

Come to that, what had motivated Chandra to seek him out and offer to be his double agent against the bishop? Did the man really desire a bishop's robes as much as he appeared to? Or was it all a front to sucker him in?

In a way, of course, it made sense. Thwait certainly isn't about to let Chandra move up in the hierarchy, he thought. Not with all that the man knows about him! So if Chandra ever wants to go any higher, it will have to be over Thwait's dead body. And apparently that's what he wants. Enough to come to me and offer his services. Knowing that if he is useful enough to me, I can pull enough strings to get him raised up to take Thwait's place.

d.a.m.n, he admitted, I'm just not up to all these twisted double- and triple-crosses. Give me a clean, straightforward battle any day!

Then he chuckled out loud. "But for an old soldier you did a pretty good job of acting today, my boy," he congratulated himself. He raised his gla.s.s in salute and took another slug of the whiskey. Yeh, he reminded himself, but it's easy for me to play the hotheaded soldier, champing at the bit, breathing fire and destruction. s.h.i.t, that's typecasting if such a thing ever existed!

But he'd fooled Andrew with it. Suckered him right in. h.e.l.l, he thought, I wouldn't send a G.o.dd.a.m.ned company of marines down onto that stinking planet if you paid me! G.o.dd.a.m.n deathtrap, that's what it probably is. n.o.body, but n.o.body is ever that defenseless. Gotta be a trick. But n.o.body ever accused the Fighting Admiral of cowardice or lack of enthusiasm before. And after my little performance today, they sure won't in the future. Getting Andrew to overrule me that way. Ha! Took me off the hook and put him on it!

So now he's got his chance to look for whatever danger is lurking down there. If he finds any, well and good. I look brave, but not foolish. If he doesn't, well and better. Because then I prove right all along. Whatever happens, the key thing is to stay on top of it. Always be one step ahead of Andrew. Or at least keep up with him. That's why the Committee sent me, he remembered. They figured I was the only one up to taking on the formidable Bishop Thwait.

To embarra.s.s or outdo Thwait was to embarra.s.s or outdo the Power. And that was the purpose of the Committee. To chip away, bit by bit at the Power. To make it look bad. To weaken it. And then, at the right moment ...

He drained his gla.s.s, rose, and carried the empty back to the bar. Placing it in the cleaning slot, he turned, stretched, and shuffled off to his bedroom, ready now to turn in. Got to be careful with Chandra, he decided. Check everything he says, weigh it against what really happens. Maybe he's telling the truth, maybe he isn't. But even false information can be useful if I know it's false.

He undressed slowly, whistling tunelessly the whole time, his mind idling and relaxed. Finally he lay down, pulled the sheet and blanket over himself, and turned out the light.

Just before dropping off to sleep he murmured, "Andrew, Andrew. You're not the only one who knows how to scheme."

VI.

The mid-morning sky arched blueness from horizon to horizon without so much as a puff of white to mar it. Yesterday, with all its pains and doubts, had been washed into the past by a good night's sleep.

Today Myali was meeting with the Way-Farer to prepare herself for the new pains and doubts that stretched off into tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

So far, the two of them had just sat on the top of the hill and let the beauty and peace of the morningslip softly through their minds. But now Myali felt the growing pressures of unanswered questions and knew she would have to speak. She quietly cleared her throat and saw by Father Kadir's minute nod that he was waiting for her to begin.

Although she had planned to be less direct, her first question came tumbling out in urgent starkness.

"Father, Mother Ilia died to save me. Why?"

The Way-Farer shrugged. "Perhaps because she saw even more clearly than I and knew you hold the future in you. Perhaps because she loved you. Perhaps because she was tired of living and it was a beautiful day to die. Perhaps because she knew of no other way to start the fate of Kensho on its proper path."

"Myali, Mother Ilia was a complex and wonderful person-just like everyone else I've ever met. I cherish her memory and know that her existence in the universe has sent waves of meaning rippling off in all directions. And perhaps her pa.s.sing beyond our existence has set in motion the biggest wave of all."

"You, my dear, have been chosen to ride the crest of that wave."

"But why, Father? Why me? Of all the people I know, I can't imagine anyone less suited for the task.

Josh, yes. He's calm and deep in the Way. Or a thousand thousand others like him, men and woman who have realized the dreams of Nakamura, Jerome, Edwyr, and Yolan. The true h.o.m.o Kensho!"

Father Kadir c.o.c.ked his head to one side and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you not one of us, Myali?"

A look of deep anguish welled up in her eyes and she was forced to drop her gaze from his face to the ground. "I ... I ... don't know, "she whispered, her voice husky with confusion and pain. "I'm not sure."

"But you pa.s.sed Judgement, my dear. And carry the Mind Brothers. And, if I remember correctly, are a Master in your own right in both the Way of the Fist and the Soft Way."

"Yes," she acknowledged despondently. "Yes, of course." She looked up, her gaze suddenly sharp, her voice tight and tense. "But those are just ... just 'things' I do, Father. I know genetically I'm h.o.m.o Kensho. But ... but... I...

"Father, I know all the words of the koans. I've solved every one of them. I know the ideas of the Way, the practices, the disciplines. I know them. But I don't feel them. Not here, not deep down inside me.

"G.o.ds! At times I ... I think I'm just an actor, a mime, going through the motions, faking it, mouthing words that have no real meaning for me. I find myself walking the Way like I would a path in the woods.

To get from here to there. Not because I want to, but only because I know I'm supposed to.

"There's a part of me, Father, that always holds back, that never lets go. At times, that part takes over and I become so wrapped up in myself that I don't see the rest of the world. Sometimes not for days! I'll walk and look and not see or feel a thing. It's ... it's like when I 'm the most there within myself, when I feel my own existence most fully, the rest of the world becomes a painted backdrop, a thin, faded veil drawn across ... across..."A panicked look filled her eyes. "G.o.ds," she murmured, "G.o.ds ... across what?"

"Reality?" offered the Way-Farer.

"Reality?" she repeated, a sense of questioning wonder in her voice. "Reality? Father, I 'm not even too sure what that means any longer. I know we say the Way leads to reality by showing us the real aspect. I understand what we mean when we say the Way is simply our everyday mind and that all things are the real aspect. But the Way and reality must be more than that. I can't bring myself to accept the idea that the word 'is' in both those ideas sets up some kind of equation, or balance, making one side the equivalent of the other. Because if the Way merely leads us to reality and reality merely contains and is all things, then what contains reality?

"Again and again, Father, I find myself driven back into myself because I can't find any stability or meaning anywhere else. And that part of me that stands aside mocks all my efforts and calls me constantly back and in, in and down." Her voice fell to a strangled whisper. "I fear it, Father. I fear that place inside me. It's dark and quiet there. It has no end and no beginning. Nothing moves and nothing is."

She was silent for long moments as she fought both the tears that clouded her eyes and the hard knotof anguish that choked her and made it impossible to speak. Finally she was able to croak, "So who am I to stand for Kensho? To take the burden of the lives of all on my back? To meet them and do whatever has to be done? "

"I'm the one who doesn't even know who or what she is. I 'm the one who might not even be worthy of the name Kensho." A sense of bitterness entered her voice. "I'm the one who might be a throwback, a freak actually closer in mind and spirit to them than I am to my own people." With a sob, she buried her face in her hands. "Who better...to sacrifice...than the one ... good for nothing else?"

The Way-Farer reached out and put his hands on Myali 's shoulders, drawing the young woman to him as she sobbed. She came and settled in the curve of his arms, her face turned into his shoulder. And let her anguish flow.

After a while, when her sobs diminished, Father Kadir began to speak in a soft voice. "Myali, Myali, Josh told me doubt rode your mind, but I had no idea how hard you've been ridden! You think and you think about these things, twisting them round and round in your mind, taking them apart and putting them back together again endlessly. "

"There is no end to such labors. The picture of reality you create in your mind is a limited one, limited both by the boundaries of your perceptions and by the horizon of your understanding. At the most it is a model, a measuring rod for the sake of comparison. You're absolutely right in saying that the Way must be more than your everyday mind and that reality must be more man all things. For reality is simultaneously both fully itself and all things, and hence more than either. "

"But, my dear, reality has no obligation to conform to our idea of it, no matter how complete or detailed that idea may be. That's looking at things the wrong way around! Reality is not something added to things when we perceive them 'correctly.' It is not like the sunlight that brings out the colors in things already having color but hidden in darkness. It simply is."

She sat back and shook her head. "But, Father, does the word even have any meaning then? If it simply is, then it seems forever beyond definition. I can't just point to this and that and say, ' This is reality and that is reality, ' and then add them all up, including the whole itself, and point to it and say, 'All that, that's reality.' I just can't find any significance in that or any meaning in the word."

He smiled. "Think what a lot of trouble it saves us if the word indeed has no meaning. Then we don't have to spend so much time looking for it! No, my dear, you may be right. The word 'reality' may not have a meaning. But it has a use."

Continuing to smile, even more broadly, he c.o.c.ked his head to one side and looked up at the sky. "

Ah," he sighed hugely. "What a beautiful blue sky!"

Startled by the sudden shift in topics, Myali looked upward. The sky was incredibly blue, bluer than she could ever remember seeing it. The blueness of it soaked into her, filling her to her very fingertips.

"Yes," she murmured, awed by the beauty of h. "Yes, so very blue."

"And how do you know it's blue?" asked the Way-Farer quietly.

Surprised, she looked at him. "Because ... because ... it is blue!"

"But what is blue?"

"The sky. And ... and bluecups. And eyes. And, oh, lots of things."

"But those things aren't 'blue.' They're things that are colored blue. Where is this thing called 'blueness'? Point to it. Don't just add up things that are blue and tell me "That is blue.' Point to blueness itself."

"I ... I ... can't."

"Then how do you know the sky is blue?"

"Because...because...that's what I learned to call it. That's how I was taught to use the word."

"Ah, and how were you taught to use the word 'reality'?"

Myali was silent. She could think of nothing to say.

The Way-Farer gave her another smile. "When Yolan came back from her Wandering, some people asked her what problem had driven her to Wander and if she had arrived at an answer. Her only reply was to smile and say, 'Explanation must end somewhere.' " He shifted his position slightly, leaning forward to look at her intently. "A great Master of Zen on the home world once advised that if someoneasks who you are, tell him your name. But if he then asks you, 'No, I mean who are you really?' be silent.

"Eventually, Myali, we exhaust justification and explanation. Then we arrive at the bedrock of our language and can only say, 'Because this is what I do.' There comes a time when the only answer is silence or an inarticulate sound."

He settled back again and looked off into the distance. "Meaning is not to be found in words alone.

Remember that words, or even more importantly, languages, are learned. But they are not learned in isolation. Rather the process takes place within a context of interacting perceptions and experiences mediated by those perceptions. Thus the two both shape and are shaped by the learning. Can you really doubt that if our perceptions differed greatly from what they are, both our experience of reality and our language wouldn't differ equally greatly?

"The way we use language often places it on the borderline between the logical and the empirical.

There meanings often flip-flop back and forth, and words stand now as expressions of norms (or as ideal visions of how we expect the world to be), and now as expressions of our actual experience. Many of our problems and much of the nonsense we speak comes from our failure to recognize when we are doing which.

"And seeking final answers in terms of words is one of the most arrant pieces of nonsense that come from such a confusion. You can't find meaning in the word 'reality'? Why do you expect to? Perhaps because when you use language in its logical form, it seems so clean and clear-cut. Meanings are there, precise, measured in definitions that seem persuasive, easily understood, complete."

"But that is only appearance. Even that most logical and coherent form of language, mathematics, isn't really what it seems to be. Ask some of the Keepers who've studied the knowledge from the home world that lies in the flagship's computer. Have them tell you of G.o.del. What you'll discover is that even arithmetic is incomplete in that no proof for its consistency is possible within the limits of the system of propositions that it is built from. To accomplish that, you always have to posit at least one extra proposition that isn't part of the original system and can't be proved within it."

He chuckled. "At times I wonder if anything that can be said clearly and distinctly, anything that can be definitely declared true or false, isn't simply trivial and irrelevant. Or if perhaps the only time we can achieve complete clarity is when we make the question we're answering disappear completely by ceasing to ask it anymore!"

Father Kadir gazed up at the sky for a few moments before continuing. "So you see, My all," he finally said, "the question about the meaning of 'reality' must end somewhere, just as the question about 'blueness' did. It must end somewhere because language ends somewhere, somewhere short of reality, somewhere bound and limited by our learning and perception and experience. Where you chose to end it is up to you. But the Way teaches you to carry it on and on until you find yourself reduced to silence."

"But doesn't silence have a meaning, too?" she asked, half in jest.

The Way-Farer laughed appreciatively. "If it does, my dear, you haven't gone far enough!"

"Is that what Nakamura's koan means, then, Father? Is the place where we dwelt before we were born the silence you speak of?"

He shrugged. "Nakamura's koan means whatever you want it to mean. And I 'd wager that in the history of Kensho it's meant just about everything possible to just about everybody possible.

"If you want my personal opinion, Nakamura's koan is just so many words, subject to all the frailties of words. An inarticulate grunt or a loud 'Mu!' would be just as meaningful and probably a lot more effective. At most, it's a finger, pointing at something that can't really be put into words.

"If I can give you any piece of advice, Myali, I guess I'd just have to warn you that language is a labyrinth. You approach a place you know from one side and everything seems clear and as you expect.

But if you approach the same place from a slightly different angle, you no longer know your way about and can wander hopelessly, lost and bewildered. Many are the bones of strayed wanderers that line the corridors of that maze.

"Ah," he sighed, "but that's just more words added to the pile I've already buried you beneath. If I were a good Master I'd just hit you with my staff and keep quiet!"

Myali bowed her head for a few moments and sat without responding. When she looked up again,there was a new calmness in her eyes. "Thank you, Father," she said in a soft voice. "You've given me a lot to work through." She hesitated for a second, as if trying to decide whether to say something or not. "I ... I ... maybe I am the best one on Kensho for this task after all. Perhaps my very unsureness both of myself and of the Way will make me better able to deal with others who don't know a thing about it. And ... and ... just maybe ... in facing their doubts I can resolve my own."

"I hope so, my dear. I really do." He looked at her with a measuring, appraising gaze. "In any case, you'll soon find out. As near as we can tell, they'll be coming down for you tonight."

Her head snapped up sharply. "Tonight? That soon? But I don't even know what our plan is! I don't know what's expected of me. I mean, what am I supposed to do?"

"Whatever seems right to you. There is no plan. All we're doing is starting the process we saw. And hoping that all the factors we saw interact in the right way to create the path that leads to the results we desire. Nothing more than that is possible."

"But...but... how am I to communicate with you to let you know what's going on?"

"Oh, Josh will try to call you occasionally through the network. But I'm afraid we don't even know if it will work that far. My dear, I 'm sorry, but I fear you 're going to be pretty much on your own."

She swallowed nervously. "And ... and ..." she began, fear peeking through the tone of her voice, "how am I going to get back?"

"I don't know if you can come back," Father Kadir said sadly. "Josh seems to think he can work something out, but I have my doubts."

The young woman fried to hide her emotions by forcing her face to go blank. Despite her efforts, the corners of her mouth trembled ever so slightly. "I understand," she whispered in a hoa.r.s.e, emotion-laden breath.

"We know approximately where they'll land their shuttle, at least if the probability line we saw is the right one. Several teams are scattered about the area. When the ship is sighted, the team nearest it will s.n.a.t.c.h you there and send you off in the right direction to be captured."

"I see," she murmured a reply.

"Now," said the Way-Farer suddenly standing, "Josh has been patiently waiting to talk to you for some time." He winked at her. "I think he needs comforting, my dear." With a final smile, he turned and waved to Josh, who was standing at the foot of the hill, and then strode off in the opposite direction. Just before Josh arrived at her side, Father Kadir turned and looked back up at her and the sky. " A very blue sky," she heard him call.

"What the heck was that for?" Josh muttered.

Myali smiled. "A private joke, Josh."

"A joke? You? My, you are changing. First you volunteer for a suicide mission and now you 're making jokes. What is the family coming to?

"Seriously, though, little sister, are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, I'm sure I could persuade the Council to let me go-"

"Josh," she interrupted. "No. I'm going."

"But why?" he asked in obvious exasperation.

She shrugged. "Why not? Doesn't the humor of the situation appeal to you? Think of it as a joke: The person sent to represent an enlightened race is the least enlightened one. That ought to confuse them no end." She grinned maliciously at his discomfort. "Not laughing, big brother?"

"d.a.m.n it, Myali, it's not funny! You could die up there!"

"Josh ..."