Nirvana Effect

43



Edward had amazed himself at his own motions. As he flew down the road in the Onge’s old purple Lincoln, he played the scene over and over in his mind.

Before, when he’d fought Dook, he had tried to tap into whatever martial arts he had seen in movies and boxing matches. That data hadn’t served him well at all. As a matter of fact, the only thing that kept him alive with Dook was the moment by moment evaluation of what Dook planned next, and Edward’s own response accordingly.

This time, Edward applied that to his attack. Instead of using some predetermined fighting style, Edward simply evaluated and fought moment by moment in trance. This made his assault unstoppable, even with his relatively weak muscles compared to the Onge. He had simply evaluated every perception as it came through his mind, one quantum at a time.

Every step occasioned a counter-step. Every change in his momentum was calculated so as to leave the Onge defenseless. Every motion of his opponent, every countermotion, all led him to action with each muscle in harmony.

Edward had no training in martial arts, but it was as though his mind had manufactured a special martial art for that exact scene. The muddy terrain made him rely on rapid blows. He couldn’t get a grip with his feet to land any heavy hits. If he had fought in different terrain, he would have moved in a completely different yet appropriate manner.

He needed more strength, he learned. He didn’t need to learn how to fight.

Now his mind left contemplation of the present and looked to the future. It seemed to be more and more likely that Nockwe was right. Maybe Edward just couldn’t tell a liar, even in the trance. He hoped that wasn’t true. It would render this confrontation he was manufacturing worthless.

Of one thing Edward was certain: he was glad to have 43 t-pills in his pocket. Mahanta obviously had something very different than science in mind.

He stopped thinking. To think further was pointless. He knew what he must do no matter if Mahanta spoke the truth or was deceiving him. He had calculated all the possibilities while in trance.

Edward reached the point in the jungle he needed to. He drove another quarter mile, however, before finally parking behind some trees out of view from the road. He checked out the car, finding a knife in the glove box. It fit at his belt. He turned off the car and locked it. Like that will do any good…

Edward sprinted into the thick of the jungle, plunging in at a dead run. He would have put Nockwe to shame. He ran through the woods as another might run a track race, bending or turning the slightest amount necessary to avoid the foliage, his feet always finding the exact right spot, and all in the budding dawn, with only the slightest red of the sky to guide him.

The rain made it difficult to find footing, but only because he was sprinting faster than he’d ever run in his life. It was five miles to the village. After the first mile, Edward kept running but let up slightly, quite aware of the fact that his body might give out on him even if he could will himself through it.

As long as I keep trancing, I’ll be fine. After the trance – well, that’s a different story.

He eased his speed even more. Again, for all the dangers of the jungle, the dangers that lay before him held ten times the force. He slowed to a jog. He did not want to be winded when he got to the village. Still, he had to make it before daybreak to keep his advantage over his trackers and Mahanta.

The whole trek, which would have consumed most of a day even for an Onge, took him less than an hour. His navigation was dead-on, taking him to the “back” of the Onge village.