Behold a Dark Mirror Page 12

  "That's possible, but it's not what I mean."

  Nero turned around: "I know what you mean, Kebe. Events without a plausible explanation."

  "That also meet a precise purpose," she completed his sentence. "Even if that purpose is far from clear at the time. I believe in miracles—I rely on them. They've kept me alive more than once."

  "You speak in riddles," Nero said.

  "Would you believe it if I said I'm a misfit, I can't fit, I'm weird, and nobody can love me?" Kebe picked up another rock, held it in her hands.

  "No, of course not; how can you think that?"

  "My family was slaughtered by marauders. I don't remember much of my parents or my family. After their death I was deported—orphaned labor. I grew up on Galagos 5th growing gurda spores," Kebe said, putting the rock in the mailer.

  Nero's jaw dropped; "On Galagos 5th?" he said.

  "Mama Mara took me in. She was a loving, God-fearing woman who had no children of her own. She was widowed six times while I stayed with her—gurda is tougher on males, even if nobody seems to admit it. By the time I felt attached to a father figure, insanity wasted him. Mama Mara eventually died crazy from the toxins of the spores." She leaned on the mailer. "Set the address to here, please," she added, pointing to a note, and leaned over to pick up yet another rock.

  Nero obliged, concentrating for an instant. Then he said, "Is that why you believe in God? Because you survived?"

  "No. Perhaps I should count that against Him."

  "Then why?"

  "My enemy, Nero, is invincible. God helps me contain it. God is the compassion that allows me to live with myself. I don't have clever words to describe all this. When I try, I trip on my tongue." Kebe put her rock on the dispatch plate.

  "You won't declare to me the thousands attributes of God, then," Nero said matter-of-fact, and activated the mailer.

  She hit him mockingly. "I share secrets with you that few others know about. Show some respect. This is a serious matter to me, Nero. I'm not a good believer. If I were, I'd behave better, but at least I know that. I'm not blind to my faults, or to my ignorance. I don't try to divine purposes and reasons—I'm happy with the crumbs."

  "I'm sorry, Kebe. I wasn't trying to be funny. I can't imagine the hardship you must have gone through." He looked her straight in the eyes.

  Kebe leaned against the wall. "There are thousands of prophets who claim to know God," she said, folding her arms. "Some perhaps indeed do, I guess. Most don't. Folks like me, we know enough to be dangerous. Enough understanding to see evil, not enough to bring love—I don't know God well enough. But I know that I'd go insane without God. Do you believe in revelation?"

  "Meaning that God can talk to me?"

  "Sort of."

  Nero paused. "I can't imagine why God would want to talk to me." He added, with hesitation: "But maybe God talked to Margo." He looked away, pretending to verify the next address in a stack of scribbled notes.

  "I'm sorry."

  "No need to be, Kebe," he said. "We each have our enemies, and you aren't one of mine." He turned to face her.

  "Was your wife religious?"

  "Yes, she was. She tried to explain to me why she was. I never understood."

  "What was her faith?" Kebe pushed herself off the wall.

  "She said she was a fundamental paleo-christian." Nero tampered with the addressing controls of the mailer.

  Kebe nodded. "Wise choice—no corporate religion." She leaned over to pick up one more rock for the next submission.

  "What about you?" Nero said.

  "What do you know of confessional religions?" Kebe said, readying the rock.

  "Enough to stay away from them. Miners are practical people: Far Lands sponsored a lay cult—no metaphysics, please. I had enough comparative religion instruction to become skeptical."

  "I grew up with the Church of Gurda on Galagos 5th. They tried to convince me that death by insanity was the holiest way to go—I've been a free spirit ever since. I'm my own church. Better ignorant and pure than juiced and full of shit." Kebe pressed the Go button.

  Nero laughed.

  "You're so rude!" Kebe said.

  He stopped. "It was the pure part."

  "Ah, well," she sighed, "You're right, I guess. I have some idealized opinions about myself."

  "You're so serious and so funny. I never thought of you as an ascetic, but I was wrong. How little we know of each other."

  "That's why we still like it. Being together, I mean."

  "What a sad proposition," Nero said.

  Kebe shrugged.

  Nero fixed the next address for the mailer, and rested his hands on the table, supporting his upper body with his arms. "I'm a conservative. I believe—believed?—in traditions. I believe that corporations teach habits because they are good for society. Take marriage, for instance: how can you afford to let yourself love another without the security of a vow? How can you trust anyone who would break a solemn vow they swore of their own volition? How can you impart discipline to illegitimate children you sired—or have borne—through lack of it? How can you establish an organized society if children grow without discipline? Structure, from within or without, is good. External structure is burdensome, but it's the lifeline of civilization."

  "Of your civilization, maybe—not of mine," Kebe said, pacing. "I can't trust any corporation that invents a self-serving religion. I can't trust a religion created to make people believe they'll go to heaven if they die mad. Especially when the priests are paid with money from selling gurda. Structure sucks." She stopped walking and stood right across the table from Nero, looking at him.

  "Why do you believe in God?" Nero asked.

  "Because I know God exists."

  "How come you know it and I don't?"

  She shrugged: "Maybe you never cared enough to find out," Kebe said.

  "Did you?" Nero asked.

  "Of course."

  "Does God require structure?"

  "I'm too ignorant to know." Kebe said.

  "That's a cheap answer, Kebe; did God ever tell you so?"

  "I never asked. I don't care to know."

  "How do you choose what to ask?" Nero replied.

  "Do you like music, Nero?"

  "That's not the question: why are you changing the topic?"

  "I'm not: do you like music?"

  "Yes," Nero said.

  "All of it?"

  "Some more than other."

  "How do you know what to like and what not to?" Kebe asked.

  "It's not always a conscious decision."

  "But you know what you like," Kebe said.

  Nero nodded.

  "Then, Nero, you know how I know what to ask. I don't care if the gates of heaven swing or slide; I don't think I'll go to heaven anyway. But I sure know about pain, and I know that God cares about my pain. And about that of others." She walked to the pile of rocks, picked up one more.

  "How do you know it's God who cares?" Nero said, and set the mailer.

  "I was loved when I was a child. I don't remember my mother's face, but I remember she loved me. And I've been loved by a foster mother. I remember what it feels like. I feel the same, at times, when I seek God. It can't be me. I don't know how to make myself feel that way." Kebe put the rock in the mailer and wiped her hands on her clothing.

  "Do you think God wants you to run a revolution?" Nero said.

  "I never asked—I'm afraid of the answer. I like to believe it's yes. God hasn't stopped me... yet. If I ask, I'm bound by the answer."

  "So, by omission, ConSEnt is the enemy, the incarnation of all evil." Nero dispatched the mailer's load.

  "ConSEnt is ConSEnt is ConSEnt. It's the structure that you cherished and I loathe
d. It's the incarnation of the civilization that killed Margo and your children while pretending to nurture them. You may think it was your fault, but you're wrong. You were a pawn on a chessboard, and you paid for the hubris that you grew up to believe in, against which you never rebelled!" Kebe said.

  "No, Kebe," answered Nero peacefully, shaking his head. "You can't judge one's intentions only, you must also weigh the consequences of thoughts and actions. I am guilty of hubris, but that's my fault; hence, I'm responsible for it. What I can do is to correct what I can change and come to terms with the rest. Living in denial is insane." He turned to set the next address.

  "Whatever, Nero. I'm not demonizing ConSEnt—just fighting it. Why are you joining the fight?"

  "Because I need to grow up. I don't know if my discipline—my structure—comes from within or from without: This is my graduation test. If it's from outside, and I fight, I'll fall apart because I'll destroy what keeps me together. If structure is my own, as it should be, then I'll overcome." He walked to the pile of rocks, picked up the umpteenth one.

  Kebe nodded. "I can accept that."

  "Do you think God can help me?" Nero said.

  "Only they who are strong can see their own weaknesses. I can't see mine well enough; how could I see yours well enough to answer that question? Don't misunderstand me—God can help you. What I don't know is whether you will let that happen. I have a suspicion that He has a soft spot for you." Kebe had her finger on the mailer's dispatch button.

  "Suppose I want to be helped. Suppose I want to find God," Nero said, placing the rock.

  "Start looking." Kebe pressed the button.

  "How?"

  "That's the hard part. Do you know the story of the restless disciple and the sage?"

  "No," Nero said. "Tell me."

  "Long ago, a youngster came to the sage of the land, seeking wisdom." Kebe sat on the floor, patting it for Nero to sit down next to her. Nero sat, and she continued: "The sage took him in, and put him to work in the kitchen. One day the youngster asked, 'I worked in your kitchen for one year, Sage: Can I have wisdom now?' So the sage put him to work in the stable. 'I worked in the stable for one year, Sage: Am I ready for wisdom yet?' The sage put him to work in the field. 'I worked your field for a year, and in your stable for a year, and in your kitchen for a year, with no pay, eating gruel. Will you teach me wisdom, now, Sage?' The Sage, a big man with great muscles, took him for a walk to the beach. When they were waist deep in the water, the sage asked: 'Do you want wisdom?' 'Of course, Sage, that's why I gave you three years of my life.' At that, the Sage took the youngster by the neck, put his head under water, and kept it there until the youngster almost stopped kicking. Then he pulled his head out of the water. The youngster gasped, inhaling air like the most precious thing in the universe: 'Are you crazy, you old fool?' the disciple said, 'Is this how you thank me for my work? You tried to kill me!' The Sage answered, 'This was your first lesson. You'll find wisdom if you want it as badly as you wanted air.' So the youngster left the house of the sage. He became rich and cursed wisdom all the days of his life, because wisdom must be earned, rather than purchased. He died an unhappy man."

  "Interesting."

  "My nose, Nero, is just above the water."

  "Am I to understand that God is wisdom and you are the Sage?" Nero said, next to her on the floor.

  "Yes, God is wisdom. No, I'm not the sage. I'm a reluctant disciple without a Sage to guide me, because I trust no Sage. Hence my quest is doomed," Kebe said, raising her chin as if to look at the ceiling.

  "Like you said a minute ago, better ignorant than full of false knowledge."

  She looked at him, "Full of shit. I said full of shit."

  Nero chuckled. "Same substance," he said.

  "Literally."

  "Academically, Kebe, you have a better starting point than I do. I'm full of shit. I really do believe in corporate values."

  "I loathe corporate doctrine and its exegesis. But I can't tell whether each individual point is wrong—some are bound to be. Purpose and intrinsic merit are different issues," Kebe said.

  "I built my life around them."

  "Only a part of it."

  "Maybe, but there's no scalpel to sever the two parts."

  "You are fighting your fetish, Nero. Maybe God will provide a scalpel for you." She laid her hand on his leg. "You waited patiently: You're beginning to recognize truth from bullshit. Get your head under water."

  Nero got up, walked to the workbench, put yet another rock in the mailer. "It's been under water since the first mailing left Doka and the beacon began transmission."

  "Good luck. If you get anywhere, toss me a rope. I'm stuck in my rut," Kebe said, standing up.

  They looked at each other for a long instant. They stepped closer, obeying an unspoken craving, and hugged.

  Kebe whispered, "It's not working, is it?"

  "What, Kebe?"

  "Between you and me."

  "I can't hurry and you can't wait," Nero said.

  "That's not true."

  "No, not entirely," He said.

  "I... still remember Earth, years ago." Kebe said.

  "I was grieving."

  "And now?" Kebe said.

  "I still hurt, Kebe. Maybe I met my cure."

  "But it isn't me."

  "Not until I heal, if I ever do. I have to do it myself." Nero said.

  "I thought—I hoped it would have been different," she said.

  "Maybe it will."

  "I still have feelings for you, Nero."

  "I don't deserve your feelings—not yet."

  "Why not?" said Kebe.

  "You're a charm. Don't be stuck on me," Nero said.

  "I'm not stuck."

  "You just said you were."

  "You misunderstood!" Kebe said.

  "So what are you?"

  "Nursing myself," she said. "You're not the only one who sorrows."

  "Am I your healer?" Nero said.

  "You're someone who hasn't had a chance to let me down yet."

  "We're each other's crutch, then." Nero said.

  "Great."

  The kiss they exchanged escalated rapidly. The mailer was neglected long enough to allow its chirp to remind them of reality.

  "So," said Kebe, half sprawled over Nero, "academically, if we like each other so much, why isn't it working? You know, I feel better after making love to you. I feel... whole."

  "I think we're lonely, Kebe. We understand loneliness, and by understanding it we make it easier for each other to bear it. It's not working as it should because, after all is said and done, I'm still lonely. I guess you are too."

  "I'm lonely because you won't let me in!" She hit his chest with her fist.

  "It's not that I don't want to, it's that I can't! I'm still an emotional wreck."

  "What about fixing it?" Kebe said.

  "I'm going to. Like you said, I have to find the pieces inside myself. I can't borrow them from you; that would be the worst thing I could do to us—to you, and to myself. It'll kill what good there is between you and me, and there's a lot of it."

  "You proud, stubborn, emotionally castrated bull, why can't you let me help you?"

  "Because you can't help me! You can't fight my battle! You said it yourself—have you forgotten? We'd be forever on the runway, running faster and faster, never taking off. We'd end up destroying each other," Nero said.

  "Too high expectations?"

  "In a sense," said Nero.

  "You're a good buck."

  "You're a good woman."

  "No, I'm not. I feel..."

  "No more of this?" Nero said.

  "I guess."

  "You're right. If we continued, we'd be d
eceiving each other. You are a good woman indeed—you understand."

  "Yes, I understand. I understand pain. I understand loneliness. I understand when life is so heavy it crushes me." She sat up and looked away. "I know when pressure builds and builds and will not come out—it disappears for an instant when I'm afraid, or drunk, or having sex with you, but it always comes back. It haunts me, fills my eyes with tears and my head with anguish. It's unbearable!" Kebe looked at Nero. "Yes, I understand."

  "When you know that it has disappeared forever, then only it will work. Forever. The same goes for me," Nero said.

  "It's your opinion."

  Nero nodded.

  "It may never happen," Kebe said. "Was it like that with Margo?"

  Nero raise his brows: "Yes."

  "How can we make it happen?" Kebe said.

  "Once we're done, it'll be there. There's no easy way to make it happen."

  "We may lose each other."

  "Maybe as lovers, yes. You can't truly own what you're not prepared to lose," Nero said.

  "I don't want to squander this chance. I want you."

  "There are many ways to care for one another. Truthfulness is one of the most precious ways, for those who can bear its burden."

  Kebe nodded, "Lacking other options."

  "We'll succeed."

  The mailer chirped again.

  CHAPTER 14

  "Seeo, sir!" The merchant ensign said, snapping to attention.

  "Yes, Matthews?" Seeo Tissa D'Souza said, lounging in the salon of the yacht Regalia. His olive-brown face wore the quiet composure that was his trademark; the seraphic expression hid well the manic ambition that had brought him to the exalted rank of Chief Executive Officer.

  "Seeo D'Souza, sir! This is the recording captain Roxi spoke to you about, sir!" His arm snapped from his side to offer him a nugget.

  "Very well, ensign. Please put it on the table. How do you like your first assignment after flight school?"

  "Wonderful, thank you sir!" Matthews' gloved white fingers set the nugget in the middle of a side-table ornate with an intricate ivory inlay. He rolled on his heels and left, quiet as a shadow, with a blush on his never-shaved cheeks.