Nirvana Effect

8



Edward could not sleep.

For one, he hurt too much. He was exhausted by pain past the point of rest.

But that’s not it. He was thinking.

Since he’d had the trance, he could not stop thinking.

He was thinking about the periodic table in just that moment. He saw it projected in his mind’s eye on the dark ceiling of the temple.

Seconds before that, he was thinking about some other scientific possibility. In a few minutes he would think of another.

For now he was thinking about proteins. There was a pattern with them. He’d glimpsed them in trance while his life’s knowledge had flashed before his eyes. It had come to him when he’d thought of Gadolinium. There was something to a pattern with the proteins, some sort of periodic table of proteins. He’d never seen a pattern before; he didn’t think anyone had seen it before.

For the first time in six years, one month, and seven days, he did not regret becoming a Jesuit missionary.

Then again, he wasn’t really a Jesuit missionary anymore. He felt new and whole.

He’d just faked renouncing his God and declaring a boy his soul’s ruler, and yet he’d never felt more free. He felt he was finally doing what God had meant him for.

He hoped Mahanta would trust him with the substance again. He felt certain he would. He needs me for something.

And I need him.

He closed his eyes and did not sleep. Protein molecules danced on his eyelids. He almost had it, and yet it eluded him.