David Galouye - Dark Universe

“But Light’s plant wasn’t good enough. It seems we had to fashion a tree without the graceful, whispering things at the top — one which has, instead, great masses of awkward feelers that grow deep into the boiling pits. There they draw energy from the water’s heat and use it to transform the foul air of the worlds and passageways and the elements from compost into fibers and tubers, fruit and fresh air.”

That was the manna plant.

“What are we going to do about the hot-springs situation?” Jared asked finally.

“How are you coming along with Contemplation?’

“I suppose I’ve just about exhausted the subject.”

“That helps.” The Prime Survivor lodged a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve an idea there’s going to be drastic need for help from the Upper Level before long. You realize, of course, that you don’t have much of a choice in Contemplation. Under the circumstances, this Unification couldn’t possibly be Unwise.”

“No. I don’t suppose it could.”

The Prime Survivor cuffed his arm warmly. “Fm sure you’ll be ready to return to the Upper Level just as soon as the Seven Periods of Withdrawal are over.”

Outside, a deep silence that had fallen over the world was interrupted by the first phrases of the Litany of Light. The Guardian of the Way’s fervent voice cracked with veneration as he shouted out the Recitations. More subdued but no less reverent were the Responses by the worshipers.

Recalling that Revitalization Ceremonies had failed after the first three springs had gone dry, Jared brushed the curtain aside and headed for the Assembly Area to join the services. That it would be a novel experience added little to his enthusiasm.

He stayed on the fringe of the Congregation. To have gone up front at the first ceremony he had attended in gestations would have distracted Guardian and Survivors alike. And he felt even more self-conscious when he heard a sharpeared child nearby grip his mother’s arm and exclaim, “It’s Jared, Mother! It’s Jared Fenton!”

“Hush and listen to the Guardian!” the woman reproved.

Guardian Philar was circulating among them, his words rebounding clearly from the object he clutched against his chest.

“Feel this Holy Bulb,” he exhorted. “Be inspired along the passageway of virtue. Let us hurl back Darkness. Only by renouncing evil can we discharge our obligation as Survivors and listen ahead to that great period when we will be Reunited with Light Almighty!”

If the Guardian of the Way wasn’t the gauntest man in the Lower Level, Jared felt certain, then he was at least in close running for the distinction. Bouncing off his body, central caster echoes picked up the harsh bluntness of bones that threatened to erupt through skin. His beard was sparse to the extreme of being fully inaudible. But the most prominent features of his haggard face were eyes set deep in their sockets and lids squeezed so firmly together that it was doubtful whether they had ever been open.

He reached Jared and paused, his voice stooping for but not quite finding a bass fervor. “Among all the things in this world, our Holy Bulb is the only one that has ever been in contact with Light. Feel it.” And, when Jared hesitated, “Feel it!”

His hand went out reluctantly and touched its cold, round surface. In exaggerated proportion, it had the same properties as the miniature Bulb in the object the monsters had left in the Upper Level. And he wondered—

But he banished the thought. Wasn’t it his own curiosity — over the Bulb and many other things — that had gotten the worlds into their present predicament?

The Guardian moved on, swaying, almost chanting. “There are those who would deny that Light ever dwelt in this relic. To them goes the blame for having provoked the Almighty’s wrath.”

Jared lowered his head, aware that many around him would have no trouble identifying the person for whom the accusation was intended.

“So the spiritual challenge we face on this Revitalization Period,” the Guardian concluded, “is a personal one. The echoes from the wall are clear. Unless we atone individually for our misdeeds, we may expect to find that the same Light Almighty who banished Survivor from His presence has it in His power to destroy Survivor completely!”

He replaced the Holy Bulb in its niche and faced the Congregation, arms outstretched. An elderly woman went and stood humbly before him and Jared listened to Philar’s hands performing the final ritual.

“Do you feel Him?” the Guardian demanded.

The woman grunted a disappointed negative reply and moved on.

“Patience, daughter. Effective Excitation comes to all those who persevere against Darkness.”

Another Survivoress, two children and a Survivor humbled themselves in front of Guardian Philar before the first positive response was evoked in the Excitation of the Optic Nerve Ritual. It was elicited from a young woman. As soon as the Guardian brushed aside the veil of hair that hung in front of her face and applied fingertips to her eyelids she cried out ecstatically:

“I feel Him! Oh, I feel Him!”

The stark emotion in the woman’s voice made Jared’s flesh tingle.

Patting her head approvingly, the Guardian turned to the next person.

Jared lagged behind the last in line, not letting himself imagine those who were Effectively Excited might actually be feeling nothing more than a special pressure from the Guardian’s hands. Rather, he tried to keep his thoughts receptive, so that his first participation in the ritual would not be thwarted by long-standing prejudice.

By the time his turn arrived, the others had gone from the Assembly Area, leaving only him and the Guardian. Waiting with his head lowered, he listened to Philar’s severe expression. The Guardian was not concealing his belief that Jared’s flagrant disrespect for the Barner had brought on the Lower Level’s misfortunes.

Bony hands reached out to Jared’s face. They explored their way along his cheeks to his eyes. Then fingernails pressed into the soft recesses beneath the lower lids.

At first there was — nothing. Then the Guardian applied an almost painful pressure.

“Do you feel Him!” he demanded.

But Jared only stood there confounded. Two fuzzy half rings of silent sound were dancing around in his head . He could feel them not where the Guardian was pressing, but somewhere near the upper area of his eyeballs. Effective Excitation was the same sort of sensation he had twice experienced in the presence of the monsters!

Was he actually supposed to be feeling a part of Light Himself? If so, then why should he be aware of the presence of the Almighty, in a slightly different way, whenever he was near the Twin Devils? If Light was good, then why should He also be associated with the evil creatures?

Jared repressed the profane thoughts, chasing them completely out of his mind, together with the memory of ever having entertained them.

Fascinated, he listened to the dancing rings. They became more or less vivid as the Guardian varied the pressure of his fingernails.

“Are you feeling Him?”

“I feel Him,” Jared admitted weakly.

“I didn’t expect you would,” the other said, somewhat disappointed. “But I’m glad to hear there’s still hope for you.”

He went over and sat on a ledge below the Holy Bulb niche and his voice lost some of its sharpness. “We haven’t heard too much of you over here, Jared. Your father’s been concerned about that and I can understand why. Some period the destiny of this world will be in your hands. Will they be good hands?”

Jared lowered himself on the ledge and sat there with his head bowed. “I felt Him,” he mumbled. “I felt Him.”