There has to be evil so that good can prove its purity above it.
The Buddha
"Stop!"
A voice rang out loudly, rising above the steady roar of wind and rain. The sharp command was followed by a distinctive high-pitched whine, cutting through the air. The all-too-familiar sound of energy weapons powering up.
"Lie down flat on your stomach with your arms extended straight out!"
"Here…on the ramp?" I called back.
Through the deluge, I could dimly make out four distinct shapes—all heavily armed, their weapons pointed directly at me.
I saw one of them motion to the others to stay behind, and then he strode toward the ship alone. As he approached, I noticed that his top two arms held a rifle, but he was also clutching a club in one of his bottom hands. The soldier repeatedly smacked it into the open palm of his opposing hand, the hard impacts matching the cadence of his steps exactly.
This was trouble.
We met on the ramp, halfway between the ship and the ground. My senses were screaming at me to run back into the vessel, and to not stop until I reached orbit. But I knew I had a responsibility here…and I would meet it.
That resolve never wavered, even as the Blenej speared me with the blunt end of his club, striking me hard in the stomach. The blow caused me to double over, breathless.
"Down! Now!" he yelled.
The Red then struck me repeatedly on the back until I fell flat on my stomach. I quickly pulled my hands from underneath me and stuck my arms out straight, before he took the opportunity to help me with that as well.
"I am unarmed," I gasped. "I have permission to be here."
"And I have permission to kill you if you make any threatening moves. So please do."
There was no doubt in my mind that he meant it. That he wanted it. If I gave this soldier the slightest excuse or provocation, he would shoot or beat me to death—maybe both. He signaled down to one of the other Reds to come up the ramp and join him.
They both began searching me, roughly emptying out my pockets and rifling through the folds of my robe. They even pulled out equipment for an internal scan, looking for anything I might have hidden inside my body.
The new arrival waved his scanning wand across my torso for a second time, shaking his head. "I can't penetrate one of the structures in its chest. It's heavily shielded." He reached down and pulled my head back by the hair, placing his face mere inches from my own. "Maybe we should cut it out and have a look."
"No," the other Red said forcefully. "It is the abomination. The Green Mother has permitted it."
"This is too much, Hes! She asks for our help, and then lets this murderer liv—"
"Silence! It's not for you or me to say. She has given us an order."
The soldier reluctantly acquiesced. He didn't agree—that much was clear—but would thankfully follow his instructions. "Gah!" He kicked me in the ribs to vent his frustration, and then snapped, "Get up, machine!"
I slowly pulled my hands in from the sides and pushed myself up into a crouched position. Then I cautiously stood up straight—no sudden or threatening motions. No excuses.
"Am I free to go?" I asked hopefully.
"No!" They said in unison.
"I am Ne Hes," the Blenej holding the club said. "And I am in charge of the escort detail during your visit." He spat the word out. "You tell me where you want to go, and I say yes or no. No discussions. No appeals."
"I would like to see the Green Mother," I said.
"Wha…no. You can't!" the other Red protested.
"Let's go," Hes said. "She already told me to bring you to her first."
Hes's companion was startled, but said nothing more as we walked down the ramp, meeting up with the other two soldiers waiting below. The Red encircled me and we moved out as a group—through the busy spaceport and into the city proper.
When Hes walked a little ahead to lead the formation, his partner leaned in and whispered, "When I get my chance, murderer, I will kill you." He pressed his gun barrel into my ribs to amplify his intentions. Hes either heard him, or otherwise sensed trouble.
"Back off Trex!" He barked.
The Red angrily stepped away from me, dropping back to the rear of the group.
It was only a short journey to the Life Palace where the Green Mother dwelled, but the strange combination of Blenej Reds and a human walking down the street together guaranteed us many stares and whispers. The Reds were alert and typically assertive, staring back at the onlookers and forcing many of the Green to look away.
"Damned monsoon season," I heard one of my guards complain. He and Trex were walking side by side several paces behind me. As if on cue, Trex stepped into a deep puddle and the water flowed over the top of his cuff, pouring down into the boot to soak his foot completely.
"Gah!" he said disgustedly. "I can't wait to get back home. How do The Green deal with this every year?"
"I have no idea."
We rounded a corner and the Green Mother's residence came into view. It was one of the largest buildings in the city, and the literal birthplace of every Green. With our goal in sight, we increased our speed, marching straight toward the structure and the shelter it promised from the rain. But even at the quicker pace, I had ample time to reflect on the unique biology of the Blenej people. And the occupant of the impressive building ahead was an important part of it.
Like most known species, the Blenej have two genders—but actual reproduction is accomplished by the Mother. She is like a Terran queen bee in some ways, but there are several marked differences in their respective reproductive roles and methods.
When a Blenej couple copulates, the female can choose to retain the sperm in a cyto pouch, and then infuse it with her own DNA. With her mate's consent—and sometimes without—she can take this pouch to the Mother, and then transfer the blended sperm to her via a special orifice. The Mother provides an egg for fertilization, and three months later, births the child for the couple—who then go on to raise it themselves.
Each Blenej color has its own specific and singular Mother—Reds, Greens, and Blues. And there are only three total in existence at any one time. Unsurprisingly, the Mothers are huge, and capable of churning out thousands of children per week if the demand or necessity exists.
If I hadn't killed Meela, would she have kept the sperm? Given it to the Mother to conceive a child? No…my seed died with her. Within her.
It wasn't as if the sex was consensual. The truth was that she'd rejected me, and I took what Meela wouldn't give freely. Even my own deep pool of narcissism couldn't negate that reality.
I pushed those thoughts aside as we reached the lavishly decorated building, taking shelter under a wide, tricolored awning that ran the full length of the exterior wall. We followed it around to the back of the palace, where we found a single door placed in the center of the immense rear wall. It appeared to be a seldom-used service entrance. Hes entered a code into the security panel, and the door swung open to allow us entry.
I stepped inside, and immediately felt a wave of warm, dry air blow over me. The foyer was small, barely big enough for the five of us to fit in it together. And on the opposite side of the tiny room I saw another door, set into the interior wall.
"You go alone from here, murderer," Hes said. He pointed at the opposite door with three arms, including the one holding the club. "She is expecting you."
"We'll be here waiting for you, human," Trex added in a threatening voice. "Don't do anything stupid."
Hes scoffed. "The Green Mother can take care of herself."
I walked through the inner door, leaving my escort behind.
A long hallway trailed off to the left, sloping down into darkness. I carefully followed along the barely lit path until I hit a dead end, and then the hall abruptly turned to the right. I continued shuffling my way forward until I finally reached an airlock of some sort. I tried peering through the single large window mounted in the center of it, but I couldn't detect anything on the other side. There was no sound, smell, or even a trace of illumination. Curiously, cautiously, I spun the wheel latch to open the door.
Bright lights came on as I stepped out into one of the largest interior spaces I'd ever seen.
And sitting right in the middle of it was the Green Mother.
"Come closer," I heard her say. Her voice was soft, yet full of authority.
I hesitantly walked toward the enormous green vessel of undulating flesh. Her size was astounding! The Mother's thick skin rippled as underlying muscles flexed and contracted as needed to move the giant creature, and she turned to face me by pushing off the ground with her four massive arms, spinning around until we were face to face.
"You took one of my children, Fallon Gent. And now I find you standing before me, unarmed. Brazen indeed. Or perhaps you are just simple, foolish and stupid. Normally, I never would have consented to this charade. But your monk's promises of immortality have given them much power, even here."
She opened her cavernous mouth and drew in a deep breath. "Why are you here, machine? Why have you come to Blenej? You cannot bring her back."
"No, Honored Mother. I can't. No one can. She is beyond our reach, and even the Bodhi can't restore Meela now. But I need to make an effort—to help in any way that I can. It's why I wanted to see you."
The Green Mother clenched her upper hands into large fists and her voice grew louder, reverberating off the metal walls. "You will find no solace here, Gent. What you've done can't be fixed, healed…or forgotten."
"I know this. But there are things I wish to offer, nonetheless."
She leaned down, looming over me menacingly. The Green Mother's eyes were almost a full meter across, but they met mine directly. "I'm listening," she said.
"First, I wish to bequeath my musical instruments and all research related to them to the Musicians Guild—to be kept in a trust, in Meela's name. Second, I pledge to never play music again—ever—in this life or the next. That talent was used to seduce and kill Meela, and I will leave it behind to help atone for my crimes. Lastly, I—"
"You can do this?" the Green Mother asked. "Gent was an artist of some renown. Your monks will allow you to make this sacrifice?" She backed away from me, and then looked off to one side in obvious contemplation.
"I can and have," I assured her. "I will not be happy about it when I'm reborn in my new body, but that is the point. And lastly, I wish to set up an annuity to pay for the annual release of Meela's soul."
"So you know about that, do you? Even if you hadn't offered, I would see it done myself. Meela didn't live long enough to marry or have children—to have a family that could see to the ritual after her death. You took everything from her murderer. Everything."
I could see the fury building inside her and I felt the danger. Green or no, there is real anger here, and a true threat. I must be careful. I immediately lowered my voice, projecting a calm and submissive tone to help diffuse the situation.
"There is one other thing, Honored Mother. I would like to sit with Meela's soul…now…for this year's release."
"You will not!" she answered. The Green Mother propelled her huge body toward me threateningly, and I could smell the aroma of exotic perspiration mixed in with her rage. She was impressive—frightening, even—in full form and purposeful movement. Yet I held my ground.
"I must," I countered. "I owe it to her. It is the very least that I can do."
She again lowered her gigantic head to match the height of my own, her broad nose mere inches away. The Green Mother's breath was hot on my face. "The least you could have done was let her live."
She backed away and spat on the ground. "I don't even know what you are…not really. Are you an innocent machine, sent to do the work of an animal? Or the animal himself, hiding behind a pawn?"
"I am neither," I explained. "I am Fallon Gent. But my actions…my perversities, are suppressed by a Shepherd Personality. The restrictive program guides me, promoting empathy for my victims by triggering memory stimuli that reminds me of the horror of my actions."
"So you are nothing more than him. No independent mind?"
"There is an Operational Matrix installed to control this body. It is programmed to help devise and carry out the proper atonements. But no individual growth or development of that matrix is possible. Everything is built on top of the soul I carry—added to it. So without Gent's soul, the foundation, there is no sentience."
"I understand." The Green Mother sighed, and then closed her eyes halfway. Her anger faded to nothingness and she looked tired, sad even. "I will permit this once, and once only. You may sit with Meela this year and then never again. Never return to Blenej, machine. If either you or the reborn animal attempts to come back here, you will die. Do you understand?"
"I do, Honored Mother, and I appreciate your indulgence in this matter. With your permission, I will go now and have Meela brought out. And after the five days of mourning, I promise to depart in my ship and never return."
"Very well, machine. Your escort will remain at your side until you leave the planet."
"Of course. Thank you, Green Mother."
"Don't thank me. This changes nothing. If it wasn't for your cursed monks, I would have had your ship vaporized before it touched the ground."
She saw the surprise on my face.
"Don't look so shocked, machine. My children are just as kind and passive as they seem. They are beautiful creatures, untainted by violence. I, however, am not. Nearly 80 years ago, I was the Red Mother."
What?
"I don't understand," I said.
"We Mothers shift, changing color, alignment, even places over time. And we forget nothing. I remember the rage of The Red. Those soldiers outside are my children—even if they don't know it. This is the secret of how we are all bound together. How we are truly one species. We Mothers are the ties that bind; the link between that connects us all."
The Green Mother turned away from me, and then used her massive arms to pull herself toward a large opening on the other side of the room. She stopped at the oval doorway, and without looking back, said, "I don't know why I tell you this, machine. I suppose that in some small way I want you to understand the Blenej better—to realize how you've hurt us. But in the end, it really doesn't matter. You will be dead, and the animal will return. My words will have been wasted."
"I will remember," I assured her. "I am him."
She slid through the opening and turned to look back at me, speaking softly before the door closed her in behind it. "No, machine. You are not. I can see it now…your monks are wrong. It's possible they don't even know it themselves. But it's more likely that they do, and are lying to you. You poor creature…"
She disappeared behind the sliding door and I turned to leave.
They never understand, I thought to myself. Never.
But despite my casual dismissal, the Green Mother's final words continued to echo through my mind.
* * *
When I returned to the small entryway, I found that three of the Red had left; only Hes remained. I began to explain what happened, and where we needed to go next. But before I could finish, the Blenej waved me to silence. It was apparent that he'd already been briefed on my conversation with the Green Mother.
Hes used a communication device integrated into his weapon to order an aircar. When it arrived, he took the controls and I slid into the second seat. We departed the Life Palace and headed directly for the outskirts of the city, where a single Blenej cemetery timelessly guarded the dead.
We said nothing to one another during the journey. What was there to talk about? Besides, it was still pouring outside, and I could tell it was costing Hes a substantial amount of his concentration just to fly the aircar safely.
I took the opportunity to log into the local network, and to notify the Musicians Guild about the impending delivery of musical instruments. Although loath to have anything to do with me personally, they would accept the shipment for Meela's sake—for a chance to remember her in perpetuity. They also agreed to establish the trust, so that future generations might benefit from her loss. They would know who Meela was, and what I'd done to her.
I then turned my attention to creating and funding a local account, to maintain the yearly ritual for Meela. After this year, of course.
This year was mine.
The Blenej believe a person's soul is gradually released during decomposition, and that the deceased's coffin needs to be taken outside and opened up once a year—to allow the accumulated essence to escape. This is an important familial responsibility, and one usually performed by children or grandchildren. Due to my actions, Meela had neither. And both of her parents had been lost in the war.
The casket was normally left open for five days, and at least one family member always stayed with it—to protect the coffin until it was sealed up again and reinterred. My research revealed that originally, this was to keep wild animals from taking the body away. But over time, it became more of a comfort for the soul than protection from hungry wildlife; a loved one present to let the deceased know that they hadn't been forgotten.
And Meela would not be forgotten.
By the time the aircar arrived at the cemetery's squat administrative building I'd finished making all of the financial arrangements, and I was now ready to undertake my final task on Blenej. The facility was small, barely large enough to house a few offices and motorized casket carriers. The actual bodies were kept below—carefully catalogued, and then placed inside an expansive network of underground caves.
Getting out of the car, I noticed an open field on one side of the cemetery building. It was covered in a uniform layer of shortly cropped grass, broken by small clusters of magnificently colored flowers—their petals sagging under the burden of the constant rain. Sitting right in the middle of the open space I saw a single black coffin, resting atop a stark white pedestal.
I knew immediately that it was Meela.
Hes stayed in the aircar, and I walked the short distance to the casket alone. It was protected from the relentless rain by a yellow tarp, held up on all four sides with decorative metal poles. They were anchored deep into the ground, to prevent the wind and rain from dislodging the flapping canvas square.
The coffin was closed.
I stepped up to the onyx casket and took a deep breath, remembering what she'd looked like the last time I saw her—those bloodstained pieces inside the blue box. The Shepherd Personality struggled to contain the flow of conflicting emotions. And I felt confusion building as satisfaction warred with unspeakable regret in my mind.
Or was it his mind?
Our minds?
{Decompress-Reset…OVERRIDE}
I was calm.
Using both hands, I undid the latches on the front of the coffin. I raised the heavy lid and it swung back on internal hinges, locking into position with an audible click. I gathered my strength to lean over and look inside.
{Emotional buffer-ENGAGED}
They had done their best to rebuild Meela's broken and sliced-apart body, but the end result was a macabre insult to the beautiful creature she'd once been. Her skin was now the palest white that I'd ever seen, almost as if the green hue had been bleached out of it. And there was visible stitching where Meela had been carefully sewn back together. Purple discoloration from blood and the byproducts of decomposition stained the inner lining of the coffin.
I began to tremble, repulsed by what I'd done to her.
"I'm sorry, Meela," I forced out. "So very sorry."
I staggered back from the pedestal and retreated into the rain. The deluge was growing stronger now, and airborne waves of water sloshed over me—soaking through my robe, and seeping deep into the clothing underneath.
But I didn't notice.
Nor did I feel the mud as it covered my shoes, gripping them in a tight and binding embrace.
I couldn't feel anything, because I just couldn't handle it.
I sank to my knees and the suction of the wet soil pulled me down, completely under its control. I became part of the ground—like a tree sprouting roots, immobile and inseparable.
After a time, I found focus. Then I began meditating on what I'd done. What I'd taken.
And then I prayed.
For five days, I knelt there like a statue.
Hes was relieved after the first nine hours, replaced by another Red in what became a continual rotation. But these transitions barely registered in my mind. Several times, workers from the cemetery attempted to provide me with food, or check on my well-being. But I ignored them all. I focused only on Meela. And what I'd done to her.
On the fifth day, I cried.
My tears mixed with the rain that never stopped, rolling down my cheeks to join the mud and puddles of dark water that now covered the field. And then, with inconceivable effort, I fought off the suction and my atrophied muscles to stand.
My legs rebelled, shaking with such terrible force that my joints felt like they might rip apart. It took all of my strength to remain upright, but I eventually managed to gain a solid footing as the spasms subsided.
Hes happened to be on duty at the time, and the Blenej soldier stepped over to confront me when he saw me finally rise from the mire.
"Are you finished, machine?"
"I am," I replied, using a wet sleeve to wipe splattered mud off my face.
I unsteadily walked over to the coffin again. Without looking inside, I closed the lid and re-latched it. Then I shuffled backward a few steps and pressed my hands together, prepared to recite the Avalokitesvara Mantra. I didn't know if the benediction of comfort would help either of our souls, but it certainly couldn't hurt.
Nothing could hurt Meela anymore.
When I finished, I limped around to face Hes. "I'm ready to leave now."
"Then good riddance, machine."
It was the last thing he ever said to me.
Two hours later, as my ship rose up through the thick atmosphere, I noticed that the rain had finally stopped.
The sun was shining on Blenej.