Gillian Anderson - A Vision of Fire

“Or we haven’t deciphered the writings—”

“Exactly. And how do we know that in your ‘other time’ things were even written? We’ve witnessed these words and gestures. Maybe there were people who just memorized things, like human computers.”

And communicated those thoughts en masse, at death, to another brain? Caitlin wondered. Was that also part of the transpersonal plane? She was getting ahead of herself .

“Ben, we’re coming to the Triborough Bridge and I need a minute to just absorb—”

“Of course. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Wait. Do you have your equipment?”

“After all these years, do you really have to ask?”

“Thank you, Ben, so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

She ended the call, sat back, and took a deep breath.

Under the portentous skies, her mind returned to the task at hand, to Maanik. She had to figure out how to approach her; this could well be her last chance. Without really thinking about it, she reached out with her left hand and touched the frame of the taxi just above her window. At first she felt only the rumble of the road through the steel, but after a second she felt something deeper. She could feel a path extending far beyond the shape of the cab, the traffic outside, even beyond the towers of the city and the angry sky.

It reminded her of her first day in Central Park, decades ago, when she had walked toward scattered elm trees, then among them—and suddenly the trees aligned in long, straight rows. The feeling of alignment had been almost as audible as a click. Now, here in the cab, her perspective had shifted and extended again. The expansion was clear and energetic and familiar. She had felt this on the airplane in that moment of full physical acceptance of truth. Again she felt radiance in her sternum, and took a long inhale and exhale. She continued to breathe steadily and kept her eyes open, pinging from one visual cue to another: streetlamp to car to fire hydrant to pedestrian.

Arriving at the Pawars’ apartment, passing through their door, the atmosphere was so heavy it threatened to unbalance her. All was quiet and dead around her, yet there was also turmoil.

Gales of madness , she thought, flashing back to the experiences with Atash and Gaelle. Is that what Jack London feels?

“Dr. O’Hara,” the ambassador said with a formal nod.

“Ambassador Pawar,” she replied. She did not want to get into a conversation with him. Maanik was stretched out on a sofa, covered in a quilt, her mother by her head, stroking her hair. Caitlin took one look at the girl’s drained face and turned to Ben, standing well to the side.

“Please set up the camera in Maanik’s bedroom.”

Ben reached for his bag but hesitated, waiting for the Pawars’ approval.

“No, not there!” Hansa blurted. “She is much worse in her room!”

“That’s why we have to be there.”

“But she nearly jumped from the—”

“I know. We will not let her anywhere near the window. Please, both of you, I know your daughter is still fighting this and I also know that medicine isn’t the answer and that institutionalizing her will do no good. This is our last chance. We can’t possibly succeed with a diluted version of the experience. It has to be vivid and I have to be in there with her.”

“What do you mean, ‘in there’?” the ambassador asked.

“I am going to hypnotize us together. I’m not going to listen and analyze like before, I’m going to experience everything that she is experiencing.” She looked at Hansa. “Mrs. Pawar, please put Jack London somewhere else. On the other side of the apartment.”

“I’ll get him,” Ambassador Pawar said. “He has not been inclined to leave that spot.”

Caitlin knelt beside Maanik. Left hand, heart hand, spiritual intake , she thought. Right hand, spiritual provider.

Placing her left hand on her own chest, settling herself, Caitlin placed her right hand in Maanik’s left. Something softened behind the girl’s closed eyes and Caitlin felt a small squeeze of her hand.

“It’s time now, Maanik,” she said quietly. “Can you come with me?”

The girl struggled a moment, then nodded. Hansa made way as her daughter rose with an almost ethereal delicacy, as if she were weightless. Caitlin waited while Mr. Pawar slipped by with Jack London. The dog struggled but the ambassador held him tightly against his chest.

Caitlin led the girl down the hall. As they walked, she felt Maanik begin to stiffen.

“The room is safe,” Caitlin said.

“No—”

“We are not going back to the moment of crisis. We are going to a time an hour or two earlier.”

“ Sho ,” she said.

Caitlin glanced at Ben, who was filming from the other side of the doorway. She didn’t know what the word meant but Ben must have encountered it before because he held up a finger, meaning “one.” One hour before the crisis. Maanik was already on her way back, if indeed she had ever left.

Maanik took a step into the bedroom and Caitlin felt her try to withdraw. She put the girl’s left hand to her own chest. She could feel her heart throbbing through the fabric of her coat, through Maanik’s hand. She took a deep breath. Maanik took one as well. They stepped into the room together and moved slowly until they reached the center. Then Caitlin took up the girl’s right hand.

The polarity of Caitlin and Maanik vanished in a swirl. A different place appeared before Caitlin’s eyes, the bedroom a dim backdrop fading with every beat of her heart. She was staring at a low building made of the same dark blocks with curved edges that she had seen in the courtyard. There were trees by a wooden door and Maanik—no, it was no longer Maanik—was moving to sit on a doorstep of stone. Caitlin remembered Maanik had described these trees before as part of her home. The girl held her chin in one hand and petted a white and gray seal by her feet with the other as the animal rubbed its whiskers back and forth along her calf. The girl seemed to be staring at Caitlin while engaging in conversation with an older woman who sat on the step beside her. Both were dressed in thick coats made of a kind of fur. The older woman was addressing the girl, shaking her head.

“You must not be distressed.”

“But when it comes, anything could go wrong,” the young girl replied.

“That is why we must leave before it begins,” the old woman continued. “The power the Technologists are unleashing is potentially deadly.”

“And the Priests?” asked a third voice, a young man’s voice. Caitlin recognized it as her own, but not her own at the same time—and not the same voice she had spoken with in Atash’s vision. The girl looked at Caitlin, as did the old woman, but they were seeing him.

The old woman hesitated. “I was once a Believer, but I’m not sure anymore,” she finally said. “In any case, I would rather live now than ascend. Please save seats for us on your ship.”

“You will leave early though? Otherwise, there may not be time.”

“You anticipate panic,” the old woman said.

“When the time comes? I do. Ascent through the cazh requires faith,” the young man replied. “Strong faith. Most people will suddenly discover they want our strong hulls instead. I’ll keep seats for you as long as I can.”

The old woman looked up, gazed at a full moon brightening in a sky nearing sunset. Caitlin thought perhaps the woman would have made a different decision if it were just herself, without her granddaughter to consider.

The grandmother rose slowly to her feet and turned to go into the house behind them but kept her eyes on Caitlin’s young man for a second—and suddenly Caitlin felt she was looking at her . “I know you care for her as I do,” she said. “That is where I must put my trust.”