Nirvana Effect

46



Edward was not impressed with Mahanta’s stage presence. “Hello, Manassa,” he quietly answered as he sidestepped away from the temple’s entrance. He preferred not to move any closer to Manassa. He didn’t know what sort of weapons the Onge had behind his chair.

“You’ll call me Mahanta before we are done today,” Manassa said pleasantly.

“I’ll call you as I see you.” Edward kept walking until he had an optimum distance between himself and the door - closer than Manassa, but far enough away to give him wiggle room should the guards come bursting through.

“We’ll give me one of your Western names, yet.” Manassa smiled. He held his eyes closed.

“How about Judas?” suggested Edward.

Unperturbed, Manassa said, “And I will call you Simon.”

“I think the man who doubts is the one who sent a stalker,” said Edward. As long as Manassa was talking, he would play along. He needed the whole truth from the Onge god, and he wouldn’t get that just from reading his eyes.

“I foresaw your coming today,” said Manassa.

Edward didn’t know whether this was true or not, but fenced. “Or else, you’re in trance, and heard my footsteps in the entrance.”

“You were keeping something from me, Edward,” said Manassa.

Edward laughed. “I think you kept something from me, too.” Manassa did not find anything funny, but just kept sitting on his throne.

“You had an idea about the substance. Something for the after-pain.”

Never lie to a seer. “Yes,” said Edward. “And you have a plan you’ve been hiding meticulously. The guards, the cars.” He focused all his attention on Manassa’s face, eyelids, hands, muscles. He now knew why Manassa stayed in the meditation position. It would be difficult to read him.

Edward recognized the need for an overt strike.

“Yes,” said Manassa.

“Out with it, Manassa.” Edward pitched his voice into the beginnings of fear. It was an honest emotion. It was all honest, what he would say, but from a far corner of his mind which he never let out. He hoped it was a sufficient deception. Just by the careful tone of Manassa’s “yes,” Edward could tell that the Onge god planned to deceive him once again. He wondered how deeply Manassa could read him. “In Lisbaad,” Edward started, “I did something that has committed me on this course. I will no longer be able to remain in my Order. Please tell me you have not betrayed me.”

Success! Manassa opened his eyes to look at him. Edward had taken the encounter down an unpredicted course. Manassa doubted him, needed to read him, hadn’t seen through him yet. Now Edward had the god’s eyes. They told him everything he needed to know.

Manassa watched him, modulating his voice to a deadpan. “I did not betray you, Edward.” He saw that Edward did not believe him for an instant. “I may have hidden things from you, but I never lied to you, nor have I betrayed you.” Edward willed himself to believe it in part. It was key that Manassa thought he had the upper hand, and just acting wouldn’t do. He made himself believe it. He is acting in my best interests. He is working in a logical fashion. And the one other assumption that he now sensed Manassa was looking for: I am willing to follow his lead.

“But why did you hide things from me?” asked Edward. He knew the questioning sold it, as though he’d already accepted Manassa’s premise.

“You were not ready,” said Manassa.

“For what?”

Manassa stood from his throne. He walked forward idly. Edward matched his step towards the door, maintaining his advantage. Manassa raised an eyebrow.

“I do not trust you, yet, Manassa. Explain yourself. I deserve an explanation. I am not your subject or your villager.” He threw some real anger into the mix. It was an acting job of life and death. “For what, Manassa?” he repeated.

Manassa returned to sit at his throne. “This road we are on has many forks, but there are three of consequence that we must face.”

“Yes?” Edward prompted.

“The first is darkness. The second is chaos. The third is order.”

“Go on.” Edward had to force himself to be receptive. He remembered how forceful Manassa had gotten with him after the fight with Dook, how easily the young man had assumed the role of teacher. Edward hoped Manassa’s trance certainty and desire for subservience would mask Edward’s deception.

Manassa seemed to be taking the bait. Of course, Edward also had to weigh the possibility that Manassa was a step ahead of him, that Manassa wanted him to make those exact conclusions. The young man might have been planning this all day and foreseen the whole encounter. It was a deadly dance of wits. In the trance, every flicker of face muscle, every beat of an eyelash, every modulation of the voice betrayed vital clues.

Edward had to trust that he had the advantage, that he’d taken Manassa by surprise, that he could take what was being said at something close to face value.

Manassa continued. “One course is that we could destroy this substance in its entirety, destroy every plant, every ounce of sap, abolish it from the earth. That is the path of darkness, the snuffing out of a candle that could light the world.”

Edward nodded. “I had considered that,” he said. I hate it, but that might be what needs to happen.

Manassa continued his teaching. “In that way, we could step away from it in peace.”

“Go on,” prompted Edward.

“The second path is that of chaos. At first that seems the only path beyond darkness. We could take this substance and plunge the world into death. If we keep it much longer, someone else will get their hands on it, someone else will use it stupidly.”

Edward again nodded. “I had considered that, too.”

“At first, when looking into the future, this chaos seems to be a cloud that consumes all paths that lead beyond. For weeks it was all I could see. But I would not have started to use this substance, to risk unleashing it upon the world, if that was all the future held.”

“What is the path of order?” asked Edward.

“The path of order is the path of control. It is the path of enlightenment, of a Golden Age. You could say it is the path of an Order. If we control the substance, we could…”

“Lead the world,” Edward finished for him.

“Yes. And we would have in our Order the first people who were ever truly fit to lead.”

Edward let the idealistic part in him speak, the part that had foreseen this path, before throwing it by the wayside. He had studied far too much history to really allow himself to fall into such a trap. “But how could it be done? I saw that, too, but my vision kept going back to the chaos.”

Manassa smiled. “It can be done.” Edward gave him a cautious look. Manassa waved his arms. “We will use the Onge. It is why I ascended to godhead. They will be our Order.”

“That’s why the cars.”

Manassa nodded. “And more. I have developed a half-drug.” Edward hadn’t suspected that. It was nowhere in his calculations. “I have my Onge take the substance orally. It produces a trance of a sort. It heightens the senses, but it’s not enough to awaken them, so to speak. My Onge call it the Lightness. It is enough to give us what we need to start. We shall be the Seers. And we shall have an Order. It is all as I have foreseen.”

Edward, in the merciless logic of the trance, saw why Manassa had chosen him for his plot. “You knew when you read my journal that I would follow you,” said Edward.

Manassa didn’t answer.

“You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the drug. It brings my dreams back to life. It brings me back to life,” said Edward.

The Onge shrugged. “So it is with me,” Manassa said simply.

“And now you expect I’ll follow you, for the same reasons.”

“Or perhaps better ones,” said Manassa.

He’s got me wrong.

“Do you think you are some sort of Messiah?” Edward asked. He knew Manassa would be suspicious if he didn’t challenge him there.

“I think I’ve been given a gift. And so have you. And with this gift comes more responsibility than anyone has ever had laid on his shoulders in millennia.”

“You feel fit to rule the world?” asked Edward.

“I feel fit as any to guide it...with you…” Their eyes were locked on one another.

“Tell me this. What is your plan after we train our Order?” He said it like he wanted to be convinced, like he wanted to be reasoned with, but that he didn’t see any future. He could see Manassa biting. It was his last necessary deception.

“We will build up a power base. We will increase our resources. We will not, as the fools of history have done in the past, give up our discovery to the bigger fools who govern. We will control our weapon and lead the people of Earth…” Manassa trailed off. Edward had stopped his acting. The tension released out of him. The Onge detected it in an instant and knew what it was. “You’ve already made up your mind.”

“It’s a weapon to you, isn’t it?” Edward asked. There was anger in his voice.

The Onge surged toward him. “It is what we say it is, Edward. It is what it is. It is higher than anything on this world. It is higher than the atom bombs, than your Vatican City, than all the sciences of Earth. To name it is a pretense!”

“You’ll rule this world to what end?” Edward asked.

“I’ll lead it.”

“Why?”

“Because I can!” Manassa got in his face and shouted furiously. Edward didn’t react. He did not fear this boy. In his peripheral vision, he saw the guards rush in, responding now to the shouting as they had to the fire. Manassa waved them to hold back at the door without so much as a glance. He would not take his eyes off Edward.

Edward was quiet. “Manassa,” he said. “You have decided to rule a world you have never seen. You wish to lead it to a goal you cannot even foretell. You seek power for the sake of power.”

Edward could tell the boy was listening to what he said, that every part of his mind was dedicated to understanding what Edward was saying, and yet he knew in that instant that Mahanta would never hear. Mahanta was gone and only Manassa remained.

“I will see it. I will have it,” said Manassa, defiant.

Edward knew that he would, or die trying. The Onge survival pattern was part and parcel to Manassa, enlightened or no. Just as the Onge who feels most powerful seeks to take the tribe by force, so did Manassa think he could take the world by a subtle force. There would be no convincing him otherwise.

Life amongst the Onge was a much more black and white proposition than Western culture, and the business of living was handled with the utmost precision. It was an Onge law, for instance, that if a hunting party were more than two miles from the village at dusk, and a member of the party is injured, that the injured must be left to fend for himself. If this were violated, the leader of the party would be put to death for his weakness.

No leader was ever put to death. Very few Onge allowed themselves to be injured, but if one did get injured, he would insist on being left behind.

The Onge are the last people in the world who should have the trance substance. With their discipline and lack of “civility”, they could wreak untold destruction to civilization without even realizing it. To them, it would be the natural order of survival.

Edward arrived at a conclusion. He knew there was no talking, now, no turning back. He would try anyway, but he already knew the answer. And yet he still had to try.

“Mahanta, this substance, used properly, could give mankind freedom. Or it could create freedom just for one. Or it could plunge everything into chaos.” Edward face was only inches from the young man’s. “You told me when we started this that there were certain people who could not be trusted with the trance drug. Mahanta, you’re one of them.” Manassa didn’t say anything, only stared at him. It seemed to actually be sinking in. “Mahanta, we must destroy this substance. I need your help. We must destroy it, so that no man can ever reach it again. What seems to be a great blessing is in fact only a curse.”

He could tell that Manassa was actually torn. The young man’s eyes glazed over.

At long last, Manassa looked at him again. It seemed his trance had worn off. Edward could see the pain and tension suddenly consuming the god’s body. Lackluster, Manassa asked, “You discovered something for the after pain?” He asked as though reminiscing, as though it didn’t matter. He said it as though he’d decided to help Edward end it all. Edward almost subconsciously nodded. He stopped himself, but it was too late. Manassa was glaring eagle-like into his eyes. He saw it in my eyes.

“I must think on all this, Edward,” said Manassa tiredly, and walked away from him to his bedchambers behind his throne. “I must think on this. He’t’cari’nya. I must think on this.” It was an odd Onge phrase he’d said. It meant, literally, “the world turns.” As he disappeared by the curtains, Manassa chuckled. “I told you you’d call me Mahanta.”

Edward was stunned. He could not believe that he actually had Manassa deliberating. He thought there was no chance of changing his mind. Now he was thinking.

Edward heard the call of one of the guards outside. “Tanyan.” More.

More…Edward heard footsteps far in the distance.

“Tanyan. Tanyan! Tanyan! Tanyan-to-to!” All.

Edward sensed it before it was too late. Mahanta had given an instruction with his odd phrase.

Edward sprinted to the doorway. His muscles ached from his journey in the jungle, but that was a trifling matter compared to the footsteps. In his state of elevated consciousness, the pounding of the earth was growing deafening. Even outside the trance, he could have heard them. The whole tribe was being risen.

Edward heard war cries.

The god lost his trance and so sent his dogs.