The Pandora Project

by Christine Myles

Chapter One

 

Chapter Three

The Rhythm is around me, the Rhythm has control

The Rhythm is inside me…

The Rhythm has my soul

The Rhythm of the Heat – Peter Gabriel

 

I awoke slowly, and found myself gazing up into the face of a pretty blonde nurse, who at that moment had her fingers on my wrist, taking my pulse. When she saw my eyes open she turned and called out, "He’s awake, Doctor!"

I was apparently in the infirmary. My surroundings certainly looked like a hospital; curtains surrounded my bed; equipment next to me was apparently monitoring my vital signs. There was a tube up my nose.

Without delay, Dr. Chandra came into the room, and smiled when he saw me looking at him.

"Good!" he said, "You are awake! Good!"

"Did you take an EEG while I was out?" I asked in a barely-audible whisper. It was my first thought upon realizing where I was.

He stopped smiling. "Yes, as a matter of fact, we did," he replied.

"And…"

"The same," he confirmed, "The same as the others."

"Shannon?" I asked, still whispering.

"She is perfectly fine. She did not pass out," he said, "We do not know why you did, thus we do not know why she didn’t."

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"She was here until about midnight," he replied, "She was very concerned. She left but said she would return shortly. I expect she went back to her room for a nap. How are you feeling?"

"What time is it?"

He glanced at his watch. "Nearly one A.M. How are you feeling?" he repeated.

"Like I just walked across the desert…"

"Well, I think you’ll be relieved to know that we can find nothing wrong with you. Your vital signs are all returning to normal. You should be feeling much better by morning. However, I would like to run a few simple tests now, if you’re agreeable…"

Together, he and the nurse poked and prodded me, everything from a digital thermometer in my ear to blood and skin samples, while I lay stuporously in bed.

At last, Chandra returned and said, "I think that will be all for now. Is there anything you need?"

"I’m a little hungry," I said.

I was given a tiny bowl of porridge and a glass of the old hospital stand-by, apple juice.

"Try to get some sleep now," the nurse said, smiling comfortingly, "You’ve had quite a day."

I had a hundred more questions, but at the moment I was too weak. I closed my eyes. Sleep came quickly.

 

I am standing again in Saree’s tent. I am wearing the same diaphanous skirt and linen underskirt as before, but I am naked from the waist up.

"Come!" she says excitedly, gripping my hand and pulling, "Come and see what Al Saíd has wrought!"

She too is naked from the waist up. We walk, hand in hand, to the tall mirror and gaze into it, standing side by side.

"See?" she exclaims, "Now we truly are sisters!"

It is true. Our bodies are now nearly identical. I have modest but firm and nicely shaped breasts, like hers. Her nipples are somewhat larger, but the main difference is the two angry red scars beneath mine, an inch or two long, just where the curve of the breast meets my torso. I reach up and cup them in my hands. They are tender, but the discomfort is bearable.

"They are breasts any woman would be proud of!" she declared, "and do not worry, Kasha, the redness will be gone in a few days, and then the scars will not be noticeable… But come now!" she went on excitedly, "Now we must practice. Let us complete our dress."

She dons her own top and jacket, and hands me mine. I slip into them. Then we sit side by side at her dressing table, and she looks at me expectantly. I gather a handful of bracelets from the tabletop and slip them on my wrists. Rings and toe rings are next, the belled ankle bracelets, and long, filigreed earrings. I style my hair with combs, and slip on my red and gold headdress, using swift, practiced movements, then I pick up the bottle of ochre liquid and smooth it onto my lips. A light dab rubbed onto my cheeks follows, then I line my eyes with kohl. I turn and look to her.

"Oh Kasha! You look wonderful!" she enthuses, "You have learned well, and you are beautiful! I could not have done better myself!"

She continues to look me up and down for a time, walking around me in a circle, while I sit quietly. She makes delighted noises, and now and then reaches out to stroke my arm, my shoulders, my cheek.

"You are perfect!" she announces elatedly, "You are beautiful, and no one will ever suspect a thing! But now, let us continue with our lessons. It is time for you to practice your task."

She stands, and I stand too. She produces a long, slim wooden skewer with a tiny carved handle and gives it to me. It is a hairpin of some sort.

"Now, this is…" she begins.

"I know what this is," I interrupt quietly.

"The real one will be metal, of course. And where will you keep it?" she asks.

I slip it into my hair beneath the headdress.

"Good!" she beams, "Now, I will be Jamal Am Sahar, the guard. You sit over there, as if you are waiting."

I comply. She stands back, then assumes an imperious air, her head tossed back haughtily, and pretends to enter through an imaginary door. She looks around arrogantly.

"Who shall I choose today?" she muses, in her attempt to emulate a deep, masculine voice, all the while stroking her make-believe beard thoughtfully. I repress a smile.

"Who shall be the one? You there!" she points to me, "You, come with me. Today I choose you!"

I rise and approach her.

"No, no!" she chides in her normal voice, "You must be more hesitant! Try to look scared."

I shrug and do my best to assume a frightened countenance. I shy away.

"Come now!" she says in her deep voice, "You will gain nothing by trying to run away! There is nowhere to go! You must come with me!"

I make a show of reluctance, but go to her, and she takes me by the hand. We walk in circles around the interior of the tent for a minute or so, making believe we are walking some considerable distance, then she leads me over to the bed.

"Wait here!" she commands, and retreats through another imaginary door.

"Now!" she says in her normal voice, "Now I am Visir Am-Kathaq-Al-Bishir!"

She assumes an even haughtier pose than before. I cannot contain myself, I chuckle. She falls out of character and chuckles too.

"I am doing my best!" she protests, "You are not such an actor yourself! You should have seen yourself trying to act frightened! You looked more like you were bored!"

We laugh together, then she says, "Come now. We must practice! It is very important, and Al Kamar has commanded it. Now Kasha, please be serious!"

I nod, still smiling.

"Now, I am the Visir, and you must act as if I am. You must be frightened of me, alright? Let us continue."

She enters through the imaginary door, swaggering as if she is carrying extra weight.

"Ahh!" she says, using her deepest voice, "I see Jamal has made another good choice for me. Come closer, my lovely. Let me look at you."

I approach hesitantly, my eyes cast modestly downward.

"You are a pretty little thing aren’t you? Yes, you will do nicely! What is your name, girl?"

"Kasha," I reply shyly.

"Hmmm" she says, falling out of character for a moment, "I think we will have to come up with a better name… but later."

Back in character again, she leads me to the bed and bids me lie down on my back. I do so.

"Now, my pretty!" she continues, "You must spread your legs for the honor you are about to receive. It is not every maiden who is chosen to be the consort of the great Am-Kathaq-Al-Bishir, lord of these lands, wise arbiter of all that is in dispute, and commander of the greatest army the world has yet seen!"

Obediently, I spread my legs, and she climbs on top of me in between them. She reaches down and at the same time whispers, "Raise your arms above your head, as if you are surrendering your body to me. Al-Bishir likes to see that in his women, and it will also allow you to reach the poisoned hairpin!"

I do so, and begin to writhe on the bed, as if I am in a transport of ecstasy. She is looking downwards, and I use the opportunity to slip the hairpin quickly from my hair into my hand.

"What is this!" she roars suddenly, "What is this! You are no woman!"

She begins to rear up, but before she can do so I wrap my arms around her, pull her sharply forward, and press the tip of the hairpin hard against her back, just over the heart.

"Aaaahhh!" she howls, pulling back violently, "Aahhh! I am stabbed! Treachery! Villainy! I am wounded!"

She jumps up and begins to lurch around the room as if drunk.

"Aaah!" she continues to rave, "Poison! I am done in! I am dead! The great Am-Kathaq-Al-Bishir, laid low by a mere courtesan! Everything is going dark!" she began waving her arms wildly above her head, "My life, oooh my life! Oh, the perfidy! Oh, I am betrayed!"

She falls to the ground, one arm cast over her forehead in mock despair. Her death antics are so absurdly overblown and ridiculous that I cannot contain my laughter. I begin to snicker loudly, and she jumps up quickly and begins to giggle as well.

"Oh Kasha!" she runs to me and embraces me tightly as I climb off the bed, "Oh, Kasha you were wonderful! That was very good. We will rehearse many times of course, but I have no doubt that when the time comes you will be perfect!"

She holds me tight, her cheek pressed tightly against mine. Then at last she stands back, holding my hands in hers. Her eyes twinkle, and she has a mischievous grin on her face.

"Come, Kasha," she says as she leads me back to the bed, "Come, let us rehearse the bed scene once more…"

She lays me on my back, and climbs again on top of me. She rubs herself against my loins, and I feel myself harden.

Then she pulls up my skirt, and her hand goes down between my legs, while she kisses me softly on my lips.

"But this time, dear Kasha," she whispers tenderly in my ear, "this time, you must stab me with a different blade…"

And so saying, she grasps me gently in her hand, and guides me into her.

 

When I awoke I looked around in vain for my bedside clock before remembering I was in the infirmary. I was alone, the lights were dim and it was very quiet; I assumed that it had to be sometime in the very early morning. I lay still, feeling the familiar enervation that always seems to follow the dreams. I realized that I was hard, no doubt a result of the dream’s erotic conclusion, but I was too weak to care. I closed my eyes again, and presently fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

 

Dr. Chandra signed my release around noon the following day, after examining me carefully and deciding that, as before, he could find little wrong other than the remnants of extreme fatigue. He insisted that I call him if anything unusual happened, no matter how trivial, and after reassuring him several times that I would really do so, I dressed and walked out of the infirmary building into the stifling midday heat.

My first impulse was to return to my apartment and get some more sleep, but it had been some time since Shannon and I had had a chance to talk, and I wanted very much to discuss this most recent development with her, so I went instead to her door and knocked. There was no answer.

I finally tracked her down on the experiment floor in the lab, but I didn’t feel like going through the elaborate ritual that was required to gain access to the lab’s inner sanctum, so I merely left a message for her and headed over to the pool for a swim. Afterward, I sat in the sauna for a while, then showered, dressed and walked down to the cafeteria.

Shannon was there, eating alone at a table next to the window. She was picking at her food distractedly and gazing out at the baking landscape beyond the lab. Far away, over the mountains to the west, a thunderstorm was building, its dark, billowing towers flame-fringed where the sunlight spilled past them.

I picked up a light lunch and headed over to join her. She looked up and smiled when she saw me, her face clearing.

"David!" she exclaimed, "I’m so glad you’re okay! They wouldn’t let me visit you in the infirmary, did you know that? I was so worried, luv!"

She jumped up and hugged me warmly, pecking me on the cheek as she did so. I reassured her that I was feeling fine and we chatted desultorily for a few minutes. Then I asked her, "Shan, it’s been ages since we’ve had a chance to talk just between ourselves. I really need to talk to you about what’s been happening."

"I know, luv," she agreed, "I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’s not the same talking in meetings in front of Scott and the others. You never know if they’re working from some hidden agenda. I mean, I trust Scott, I guess, but he is under a lot of pressure to produce some results. I know he’s been disappointed with the progress we’ve been making, and I… well, I just never know how he’s going to react to things…"

I nodded. "I know exactly what you mean," I said, "So, I’ve wanted to ask you if you’ve been having any more of those really intense dreams, and if so, have they been the same as your earlier ones… the same themes, same locale, and so on."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, "I certainly have! Almost every night, in fact, and they always seem to happen at the exact same time at night…"

"Around one to two A.M?" I asked.

"Yes! You too?"

I nodded.

She continued, "And yes, they’re always exactly the same locale and the same situation, everything. The detail and consistency is remarkable! It’s almost like tuning in to a continuation of the same mini-series on the telly."

"Would you like to tell me a little more about what happened in those dreams?"

"Of course, dear," she responded immediately, "but you have to as well! I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours!" She grinned at me, something I hadn’t seen in several days. It was a lovely sight.

"Naturally!" I replied.

"Well, I think I told you about the first dream, where I was in a kind of harem, and that poor girl got taken away…"

"Yes, and you said that she seemed terrified. Your dream-self was quite worried."

"That’s right. I remember that my dream-self was very concerned. The girl was so young, barely more than a child. Not much else happened in that dream, but I do remember that strange double sun when I looked out the window. I could see some of the land beyond the city walls. It looked bleak and completely desolate. The city itself looked like I always imagined ancient Persia would look, you know, lots of spires and minarets. I remember pacing up and down restlessly. I was so worried about that girl.

"Then suddenly another girl was brought into the room by that a group of different guards, several of them. This other girl was somewhat older, closer to my own age. I remember feeling some sort of intense emotion when I saw her, a real adrenalin rush. It seemed we knew each other quite well, but while the guards were there we pretended we were strangers. Then later, as soon as the guards are gone, we ran to each other and hugged. I told her about the terrified girl who’d been taken away and we talked quietly about her for a while. We were both really quite upset, I think because she was so young. We were both quite scared, I remember, but we tried to encourage each other, you know, bolster our spirits, that kind of thing. But every time one of the guards showed up, we went back to pretending to be strangers. They showed up pretty often, so it was kind of like they suspected something, and it was difficult to hold a real conversation. Perhaps they were even watching us in secret, you know, through a peephole or something…

"So, some time later, the big guard with the black beard and sword suddenly appeared again. Everyone was shocked; I’m not sure why. I think because it was unusual for him to show up twice in one evening, that’s the impression I got. Anyway, he gazed around the room, looking at each girl in turn, and when his eyes fell on me, David, I was scared to death! I’ll never forget those cold black eyes of his! It was like he was measuring me for my coffin! But then he looked away and his eyes fell on the new girl, the one I was talking to. He pointed to her and ordered her to go with him. I could tell she was scared, but she tried to hide it, to put on a brave front. She went along with the guard, and just before she disappeared, she gave me this really… really significant look over her shoulder. I can’t describe it any better than that, but something passed between us, some sort of deep understanding. It was quite powerful. I think I woke up just then. For ages afterwards, I could see that look in my mind’s eye…"

I pondered this for a few moments. Even though the content was different, the detail with which she related her dream was all too familiar to me.

"What about the next one?" I prompted.

"Well, the next dream seemed like a direct continuation of the first. They’re incredibly consistent! I was still in the same room, but it was dark outside. Late at night, I suppose. It seemed that the other women in the room were all scared, but they looked to me for strength. I spoke some encouraging words to them, and told them not to worry, that the hour of their deliverance was at hand, or words to that effect. I remember that we were all dressed in very similar clothes, these revealing little halter-top things, and these skirts that left nothing to the imagination! They were so see-through! And these red and gold headdresses, and all of us had…"

I felt a sudden chill course through me. "What?" I interrupted, "Did you say, red and gold?"

"Yes, everyone in the room was wearing these red and gold headdresses. Why?"

"Well," I said slowly, "In my dreams, everyone was wearing red and gold scarves or headdresses too. It was like some sort of unifying or identifying sign… But," I continued, my heart pounding, "We never talked about that before, did we? I mean, there’s no way we could have known about this feature in each other’s dreams, could we?"

Shannon paused a long time before answering. "No," she said decisively, "No, I’m positive we’ve never mentioned it to each other before. But how could it have shown up in both of our dreams?"

"I don’t know."

"David," she said quietly, "Do you suppose this place we’ve been seeing in our dreams, these people, do you suppose they’re real? That we’re actually connecting with some other time and place… The exact effect that the project is supposed to produce?"

I was silent for at least a minute, pondering the implications of her question.

"God, Shannon, I really don’t know. I suppose it’s possible. But it sure poses a lot more questions than it answers. For starters, why is it happening in our dreams, and not during the experimental sequences, like it’s supposed to? And if these places and these people really exist, where? And when? Some other planet? That double sun would suggest it. But if it really is another planet, why the hell would it be so similar to Earth? What are the odds of some completely different planet in a different star system producing a race of bipeds that, as far as I can see, are completely indistinguishable from humans? And with a culture that is so similar to one that existed here on Earth? Believe me, it’s just not possible."

"I don’t know, David," she said thoughtfully, "But something is going on here. These are not just dreams, I’m sure of it. The red and gold scarf thing alone is just too much of a coincidence, not to mention the other similarities! I think we’ve somehow tapped into something real, something that is really going on somewhere... Or somewhen! Maybe it isn’t another planet, maybe it’s Earth, only it’s Earth as it exists in some alternate universe, where different evolutionary processes took place, where the sun underwent some stellar event that produced the binary system. If that happened it would have heated the Earth to the point where deserts might have been more widespread than they are in the here and now. And perhaps human beings evolved much as they did here on our Earth, but due to the different environment, made different developmental choices that resulted in a dominant culture that resembles ancient Persia…

"Or, here’s another thought. Perhaps the world we have connected with is really alien… so alien that our brains can’t interpret what we experience in any way that we could understand… So it creates this metaphorical world that we are familiar with, and then reinterprets the alien experience using that paradigm, in a way that we can comprehend. Do you see what I mean? Like an analogy, in a way."

I nodded, but my head was whirling. This was all just too much to absorb at once. I never doubted that the dreams I experienced were significant, and always assumed that there was some tie-in to the profound and disorienting effects of our repeated exposure to n-space, a place we humans were never intended to visit. But I quickly realized that the idea of this world, and these people, actually having some independent existence was something I had resisted thinking about.

"God, Shannon," I said after a moment, "Honestly, I really don’t know what to think. Christ! Maybe we’ve already succeeded. Maybe the project has worked all along, just not the way we expected. Maybe we’ve been making connections to other minds from the beginning; we just didn’t know how to interpret what we experienced. But why they would come out in our dreams, I just don’t know. Maybe that’s the only way our minds can handle it, through the subconscious. Should we talk to Scott about this?"

She thought for a moment. "No," she said slowly, "No, I don’t think so, not yet, anyway. But I do think we should get together with Dr. Beth and discuss it. After you passed out yesterday I never got the chance. And now I think it’s a lot more urgent. We have a lot more to tell her about. What do you think?"

"I think that’s a really good idea," I responded, "Dr. Beth won’t say a word to Scott or the others if we ask her not to. And I would certainly like to hear her opinion on what’s going on."

We talked well into the evening, during which I related my dreams sequences to her, and finally parted company after resolving to meet the following morning at Dr. Beth’s office, to get this all out in the open.

But I was still worried. Something told me that I shouldn’t delay any longer; Dr. Beth had to know now. I looked across the quadrangle and saw that there was still a light on in her office window. I turned on my laptop and composed an email to her, describing the dreams that Shannon and I had discussed together. I chose my words carefully, hinting at my concern but emphasizing that I was really just curious about this new and completely unexpected phenomenon. I also mentioned, casually I hoped, that we should all perhaps be keeping this to ourselves for the moment.

I read the email over several times, trying to decide if I’d struck just the tone I was after, then hit send.

About twenty minutes later, while I was brushing my teeth, the "Incoming mail" alert chimed softly on my computer. I walked over and opened the new message; it was from Beth.

 

David,

I am very concerned by this development. We should talk soon, the three of us, and attempt to figure out what’s going on. I agree that we shouldn’t tell Scott or Chandra, at least not just yet. (I know you didn’t come right out and say so, but I’m a psychologist. I can read between the lines!)

Please keep me informed of all new developments. If you can’t meet with me in person, please keep me up-to-date by email.

Regards,

Beth

 

It is night. I am standing before a large bonfire. In its flickering light, I see a circle of many faces around me. It seems that most of the people of the village are here. Saree stands at my side. We are both dressed in beautiful long, richly embroidered gowns of deep red velvet and adorned with ornate jewelry, our usual headdresses replaced by long headscarves of the same material. She stands motionless, staring straight ahead, not looking at me. Firelight flickers in the eyes of the watchers.

The old man, Al Kamar, stands before me motionless, gazing intently into my eyes. He is holding a large earthenware chalice, full of dark, amber liquid. He looks down into the chalice for some minutes. Then he raises his eyes to mine once again, and a small smile flickers on his face. He turns to the circle of faces clustered around the fire, and speaks.

"We are the Imm Dal Ayar, the People of the Sand. We are the Imm Dal Kahmad, The People of the Desert. We are the Imm Dal Kamari, The People of the Rocks. Once, we ranged over these plains, these places were ours, and our tribes flourished. We were a peaceable nation, and we renounced violence. We lived in peace with the Imm Dal Bashiri. But then, Am-Kathaq-Al-Bishir, the Tyrant of Bashir, rose to power. He stripped our people of their land, forced our families from their homes, captured and enslaved us. Our men were murdered, our children stolen from us, our women raped and taken away to become slaves in the homes and palaces and mines of the Bashiri, there to suffer the torments of the damned. Our tribes were forced into the barren hills and valleys of this land; sickness and starvation became our constant companions.

"For many generations, we suffered and died. We prayed to God for an end to our suffering, but the suffering continued. Even today, the Immat Kashim, the raiding parties of the Imm Dal Bashiri invade our villages and homes, and carry away yet more of our people to suffer and die as slaves in the dark places of Bashir.

But now, at last, the day of our deliverance is close at hand. One has been chosen. One shall deliver us from the tyranny of the Bashiri, and put an end to our torment. One among us shall again take up the arms our ancestors renounced, and strike the first blow in the battle for our freedom. And now, here before our sacred fire, we ask for a blessing upon him and his great duty."

He holds the chalice high above his head and intones an incantation in a slow, singsong voice. The words are soft and mellifluous, and I know this to be the ancient language of the Mirkan, the gods of the ancient world, long ago when gods still walked the Earth, before the Bad Time. Although I do not understand the words, the chant is familiar to me. It is the story of our people, passed down through a thousand generations, unchanged, from the Imm Dal Ees, the ancestors of my people, who also walked the Earth during the time of the gods. I have heard it many times at other ceremonies.

The story goes on for a long time. At last, Al Kamar finishes, and stands motionless, his arms raised. No one moves. It is as if we are frozen in time; only the flickering firelight casts the illusion of movement upon the circle of onlookers. Finally, he lowers the chalice and dips his fingers into the bowl. He sprinkles some of the contents onto the fire, which hisses and crackles, sending tongues of green flame up into the night.

Then he walks over to the person standing to my right, and holds the chalice to this man’s lips. The man takes a tiny sip, just touching his mouth to the rim, then bows to Al Kamar and mouths some words. He then turns to me and bows again.

Al Kamar moves to the next person, and the same thing happens. In this manner, he moves around the entire circle, missing no one.

Then he stands again before me.

"Drink deeply," he tells me, "This blessing is for you."

He holds the chalice to my lips and I drink. The liquid is bitter, but not unpleasant. I swallow several times, then he takes the chalice, turns to the fire and throws the remainder into the blaze. It roars and leaps up suddenly, the flames climbing high into the night, glowing a brilliant green. Gradually, the fire dies down again and the roar subsides. All is very quiet. Even the air is motionless. Somewhere, far off, an animal howls.

At last, Al Kamar intones, "It is finished." Then he embraces me, kissing me on both cheeks. "Go with God," he whispers into my ear.

One by one, the villagers who have watched the ceremony come forward. Some clasp my hand shyly, their eyes cast downward. Most step forward boldly and embrace me tightly, whispering their thanks; many kiss me on the cheeks too. Many wish me luck, or bestow a blessing upon me. Second to last is Al Saíd. He comes forward solemnly, his wise, gentle eyes fixed on mine. He stands before me silently for a moment, then places his hand on my head.

"All the blessings of God upon you, my child," he says quietly, "You are ever in our thoughts and our prayers. Hurry back to us."

He takes my hands in his. They are soft, unlike those of most of the villagers, the hands of a healer. He holds mine firmly for a few moments, then releases them and withdraws.

The last in line is Saree. She stands before me, beaming proudly, her eyes brimming with tears. Then she rushes forward and wraps her arms tightly around me. I embrace her tightly in return. I feel tears prick at my own eyes.

"My love, my love," she whispers, "I shall miss you so much! I will not wish you luck, because you won’t need it. I know you will be successful, for I have foreseen it. When it comes time for us to part, I won’t say ‘goodbye’ but ‘see you soon!’ I know you will return in triumph, and I know we will be together again in a little while. I am so proud of you! I will just say, may God watch over you until your safe return…"

She kisses me on both cheeks, squeezes me a final time, and then I am alone before the fire. I stand there for a long time, watching the flickering flames.

 

 

Chapter Four

 

Drawn across the plain-land to the place that is higher

Drawn into the circle that dances ’round the fire

We spit into our hands and breathe across the palms

Raising them up high, held open to the sun

 

The Rhythm of the Heat – Peter Gabriel

 

I woke slowly. The clock read 2:29 AM. My dream schedule is drifting, I thought. They’re getting later… or longer.

I climbed out of bed, went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. As I drank, the details of that incredible ceremony flowed through my thoughts. I remembered that circle of faces, illuminated by the flickering fire. There were many people there. The shadowy human forms stretched well away into the darkness beyond the reach of the fire’s light. As I sipped my water I could almost taste the strange, smoky-bitter flavor of the liquid in the chalice. I could almost hear that old man, Al Kamar his name was, chanting in that strange, ancient language…

Then the realization struck me so hard that I literally fell to my knees. I heard my water glass crash to the floor behind me and break into pieces. I leaned forward and raised my hands to my face, muttering over and over again, "Oh my God! Oh my God!"

The strange, ancient language of Al Kamar’s chant was English.

 

I got up off the kitchen floor and ran to my desk, pulling out a pad of paper and pen. I wanted to write down everything I could remember about that story while it was still fresh in my mind. Then I wanted to see Shannon.

It was an odd, disorienting experience, trying to recall the words. The language was unknown to my dream-self, Kasha. He knew that it was an ancient story of the origin of his people, but the words themselves meant nothing. It was difficult trying to recall words that were simultaneously familiar, yet unknown. Kasha’s mind did not try to retain the strange sounds, therefore it was difficult for me, in my waking state, to remember them in detail, but I was damn well going to try…

 

"Long ago, this place was called by another name. The people of this place called it Mirka, and it was the land of gods. It was lush and fertile and brought forth fruit in abundance. The gods of this world wanted for nothing, for in their infinite power they had created a paradise for themselves. They had boats that rode upon the air. Their words flew in the wind. The commanded ghosts that flew upon the breeze even unto the tops of the mountains and carried the words of the gods upon their own lips. Even the servants of the Mirkan had powers beyond the reach of our dreams, servants that cared for them, fed them, carried them wherever they would go.

"The greatest of the gods was called Washan. Washan believed that he could give unto his servants the wisdom of his mind, that his servants would become wise like Washan himself. And this he did. And his servants had the wisdom of Washan, but some had not his understanding.

"And the servants told Washan, ‘You must seek one they call Adam! Because Adam possesses power unlike any power you have ever known! He has in his belly power enough to make this place the greatest land in all the universe! You will never want for anything, you will fear no one!’

"And Washan thought, ‘I will seek this one they call Adam! And I will become an even greater god than I am now! And I will share this great power with all the gods of Mirka, and we will want for nothing, and fear no one!’ For secretly, Washan was deeply afraid. He was afraid of the gods that roamed the far lands. They hid in the shadows, and their eyes followed Washan wherever he went. He thought the gods of the far lands were jealous of him, and that they would steal his paradise from him if they could. Once, the gods of Mirka had been at war. It was a great war and many gods had been killed. Washan feared that there were many others who would make war upon the Mirkan if they could. So Washan was very afraid.

"So Washan asked his servants, ‘Where do I seek this one they call Adam?’

"And they replied, ‘Adam is everywhere! It is he that gives you the power you possess, even though you cannot see him. It is he to whom you owe your power, your strength, why, your very life! He is all around, he is in the air and the sea, he is in the ground and he is in you!’ The servants laughed at Washan’s puzzled expression.

"And Washan spoke to the servants, ‘How can he be all around me? How can he be in me? I cannot see him or feel him. How may I seek him out?’

"The one of the servants said, ‘You must call to him, and you must call to him gently, for he is timid. You must seek him in the heart of the rocks under your feet, and in the water and in the wind that blows, and you must coax him out a little at a time. But you must not harm him! Adam can be a strong friend, but an even stronger enemy! If you anger him, he will lay waste to your homes and your villages, and poison your lands. Your crops will wither in the fields, and your cattle will sicken and die. Think well, before you seek him!’

"But Washan was proud. He thought he had the power to make the one called Adam do his bidding. He thought he could enslave Adam. So he sought out Adam in the woods and in the deserts and at the tops of the mountains and the bottoms of the valleys, but Adam could not be found.

Then it came to pass that a beggar came to the city of the gods, where Washan dwelt, and asked for a few crumbs of bread. He was dressed in rags and he was covered in sores. And Washan said, ‘Who are you, beggar? What could we want with the likes of you? Get out of this place! There is no room for you here!’

"And the beggar replied, ‘I am the one you seek, Washan! My name is Adam.’

"And Washan did not believe him, but the beggar spoke the words of power and behold! A sun rose in the night!

"And Washan was in awe of the beggar and he said, ‘You have brought a sun in the darkness of night! Surely you are the Adam of which my servants spoke!’

"And then one of the servants whispered in his ear, saying, ‘The power of Adam is in his belly! You must split him open and pull the power from his gut!’

"And Washan spoke to his servant, ‘But you said I must not anger him! You said I should coax him gently, or he would lay waste to my lands!’

"But then the servant spoke, saying, ‘Look at him! He is but a beggar! He is in rags and he is covered in boils! He is not to be feared! He must speak in order to say the words of power! Just stop him from speaking and you will be safe!’

"So Washan asked Adam if he would stay and sup with him in his palace, and Adam said, ‘Yes, I am very hungry! I will stay for supper! What will we have?’

"And Washan said, ‘You!’ And so saying, Washan pulled out a knife, and cut out Adam’s tongue so that he could not speak and utter the words of power, and then he took his knife and split Adam down the middle from the top of his head to the joining of his legs, so that he could pull the power from Adam’s belly.

But Adam did not die, and Adam could still speak, even though his tongue was cut out, and he said, "You have split me in two, Washan! A curse upon you! The power of my belly shall not be contained any more! You have done a great evil thing, and now this power can never be put back into my belly!’

"And with that, Adam spoke the words of power, and the power went forth from his belly, and it flew to every place in the land, and touched everywhere that the Mirkan went. Then the suns rose into the sky many times that night, and the servant’s prophesy came to pass, and the cattle died in the fields, and the crops withered, the air was poisoned, and the cities of the Mirkan burned and the sky was darkened with the smoke of their burning.

"And Washan ran from a burning city and he wandered alone for many days and nights, and he saw his people dead and dying, until at last he came upon an old man in the woods huddled next to a fire, and he said to this man, ‘Who are you, and why are you still alive, when the gods themselves are dead?’

"And the old man said, ‘Do you not recognize me, Washan? I am Adam! The first and the last! The beginning and the end! And I am very hungry, and now, your time has come!’

"And so saying, Adam split Washan from the tip of his head to the joining of his legs, and the two halves of him fell to the ground. And Adam, said, ‘Hmmm! I am so hungry! Which half shall I eat first?’ And he reached into the left half, and pulled out Washan’s heart and ate it. And then he reached into the right half, and pulled out Washan’s spine, and sucked the juices out of the bone.

"Then he said, ‘The gods may have had strong backbones, but surely their hearts were very hard!’

"And Adam laughed and laughed.

"And it came to pass that the Imm Dal Ees, people of the far away lands that Washan feared so much, saw the red glow in the sky, and they knew what had happened.

"And the Imm Dal Ees knew that they would suffer as well, for the poison would blow upon the wind and come across the sea to the land of the Imm Dal Ees, and settle upon the land. And this came to pass, and many of the Imm Dal Ees sickened and died even as the gods themselves suffered and died before them in the land of Mirka.

"But after a time the survivors saw that the red glow in the sky to the west had darkened, so they set sail in their boats, and after many days they came to the land of the Mirkan, and they saw that it was true that the gods were gone. The land was blackened, the air was poison to breathe, and the cities of the Mirkan glowed at night.

"But after many, many years the land healed, and the skies cleared, and the woods reclaimed the cities of the Mirkan, and flowers grew among the ruins, and the Imm Dal Ees made their homes among the ruins, and planted their seeds, and tended their crops, and in time the land once again bore fruit, and for many years the Imm Dal Ees lived in peace."

 

I put down my pen. It was nearly six A.M. Outside it was growing light.

I knew there was more to the chant, but the words were beginning to blur and flow together in my mind.

There was something else, something about a group of people they called the Indi. The Indi were there long before the Imm Dal Ees, and even before the gods, the Mirkan. There were apparently many Indi, but when the Mirkan came, they were pushed aside, segregated and impoverished. When the great war of the Mirkan had come and gone, a time which the Imm Dal Ees called the "Bad Time," many of the Indi sickened and died, but some survived, and when the Imm Dal Ees came to their land they lived together and interbred, until after many generations there was only a single people.

There was also something about the coming of a second group of people – the Bashiri, they were called. And there was much more in the story about how they and the Imm Dal Ees lived together in harmony for some considerable time, millennia it seemed, or at least many hundreds of years.

Apparently too, there was a time when there was only one sun, but some sort of stellar cataclysm occurred, perhaps the sun captured a wandering white dwarf. I knew little enough about celestial mechanics, but I knew that the dynamics of a binary system are such that the gravitational stresses on an O-type star such as our own sun could accelerate its aging process, turning it into a red giant before its time. Perhaps that was what happened.

I had to talk to Shannon. I threw on some clothes, and bundled up my notes, then left my apartment, raced down the hall to hers and pounded on the door.

Shannon opened the door, looking pale. "David!" she exclaimed, then looked uneasily away. As I was still formulating something to say, Scott materialized at her shoulder and smiled at me.

"David!" he boomed heartily, "What a coincidence! Excellent! We were just talking about you. Now the party is complete. Do come in!"

"What’s going on?" I asked Shannon.

"Just a little debriefing," said Scott, still exuding an exaggerated bonhomie, "Come on in, grab a seat. We need to talk."

I entered. Shannon cast me an apprehensive glance, then looked away quickly. I sat on the edge of her bed and gazed steadily at Scott, saying nothing. Shannon sat down next to me.

"Well!" he began, still smiling, "It seems like you two have been holding out on me. Not nice, boys and girls, not nice at all. I am, after all, still the project leader around here, am I not?"

I stole a glance at Shannon. She was sitting perfectly still, her face white, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. She was clad only in a light dressing gown, and I sensed that she was shivering.

"So, tell me all about these dreams you two have been having," Scott began, "Tell me all about them. Don’t leave anything out."

"How did you find out?" I asked.

"I’d say you’re hardly in a position to be asking questions, Davy," he replied, losing some of his jovial demeanor, "But since you asked, I had a look at Dr. Beth’s files. Yours too. Surely you must realize that on a project such as this there are no secrets? Come now. It just so happens that the Pentagon holds me personally responsible for every damn thing that goes on around here. Hell, if someone so much as farts around here I have to know about it, track it, log it, validate it, pay for the cost of the nose plugs, and account for every goddamn cent I spend doing it.

"You folks have to realize just how big this project is," he went on, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head, "And ‘big’ is the word, believe me. There’s a lot of money, time, and effort hanging on this puppy, not to mention more than a few careers, mine among them. The boys in Washington have high hopes for this research, but I gotta tell ya," he shook his head, "Right now, it’s hanging by a thread. We have a lot of folks rooting for us, but there’s an equal number of congressmen up there who would be just as happy to pull the plug, soon’s they get half a chance."

He leaned forward in his chair. "Look folks," he went on, affecting a fatherly air, "I’m on your side, I really am but, when I find out that you’ve been keeping secrets from me, well, I just can’t help getting a little pissed, is all. Heck, we’re supposed to be a team, here, aren’t we?"

He smiled. "So why don’t y’all just tell me all about these dreams you’ve been having."

"Why don’t you read Dr. Beth’s files? It’s all in there."

"True," he agreed, "But I’d like to hear it from you."

"Do you mean to tell us," Shannon spoke up, "that you’ve been reading Dr. Beth’s files all along? …Our files, too?"

"Of course," Scott agreed easily, "You think that’s a problem? You have an issue with that? What did I just tell you? This project is my baby. And David," he continued, turning to me, "do you think simply disconnecting your laptop from the network is enough to keep your files private? Please! Give us some credit! We have equipment around here that can read the onboard computer of some kid’s Jeep Renegade driving by on the highway twenty miles away! You think a laptop hard drive a hundred yards away is going to present us with any problems? Not likely! And forget about encryption. The Blue Genes array over in the data center can crack any known encryption cipher in a matter of a few hours, so get over it. On this project, there are no secrets…

"So," he went on, leaning back in his chair again, "Where were we? Oh yes… About these dreams of yours…"

 

We told Scott all about the dreams; we had no choice. He likely knew most of the details anyway, having read our confidential files. He listened with interest, leaning forward intently in his chair, occasionally interjecting a question to clarify some point, but mostly he sat quietly while we related our stories.

At last, he leaned back and looked at us. "So. What do you make of all this?"

I thought for a few moments, then replied, "I think it’s a real place. A real place, real events, and real people. I think it may even be Earth, but in some other continuum, or perhaps it’s our own Earth in the distant future. I also think that Shannon and I are dreaming of the same place, the same time, and the same events, but I suspect that Shannon’s experience of the timeline is slightly offset from my own."

"Well," Scott interjected, "you’ve obviously been doing a lot of thinking about this. It’s not time travel, I’d put money on it. Quantum uncertainly proves that that’s impossible beyond a shadow of a doubt. But I do like this ‘alternate continuum’ idea. It’ll give the ‘many worlds’ interpretation a real boost. So what do you think’s causing all this?"

"I have no doubt that our experiences have some connection to the project," I replied, "I think it’s possible that we are living these events in n-space, but for some reason, rather than experiencing them in real-time, our minds are recording the events, and kind of ‘playing them back’ later, while we’re asleep. As you know from our debriefings, Shannon and I have both experienced the sense of the… the ‘presence’ of another consciousness in n-space, but neither of us have been able to do anything about it. Any attempt to move toward it invariably results in our losing contact with it. I think that this feeble awareness of another contact may be all that our conscious minds are aware of while our subconscious has actually become a part of another mind in n-space, connected across some sort of ‘wormhole’ or something. The experiences have the complete solidity of real memories. There is nothing to distinguish them from ordinary waking life. They are as real as this conversation."

Shannon broke in, "David and I both found that, back during the very first time we dreamed of this other world, something in the back of our dream-selves’ consciousness seemed to have some fleeting awareness of our ‘other’ existence. Every now and then, my own dream-self seemed to feel a momentary disorientation as she became fleetingly aware of my – Shannon’s – personality. But that hasn’t happened since. And in fact, it’s gone the other way. With each dream, our own personalities seem to become more and more integrated with our alter egos. It’s almost as if we are gradually merging into a single consciousness."

I nodded in agreement. "Lately the experience has been almost one of lucid dreaming. Sometimes I find that I am simultaneously aware of my own existence as David, and of my life in this alternate world as the boy Kasha. It doesn’t last long. It’s an eerie sensation, but at the same time, it feels oddly familiar."

The room fell silent. Scott stood up and walked slowly over to the door. "Well folks," he said presently, smiling at us, "I’m glad we had this little chat. I’m very happy that you’ve decided to share this little experience with me, and tell me all about your mini-vacations in the land of the… what are they called, the ‘Imm Dal Ees?’ We must pursue this further. Shall we say, the lab at nine A.M.? Will that be convenient?"

He left the room without waiting for an answer.

 

Shannon and I stood off to the side of the Lab, while technicians scrambled about on one of the giant electromagnet towers, searching for an errant cooling leak. I could tell that she was as disturbed as I was by our meeting with Scott earlier that morning, but since then we’d had little time to discuss it. I asked her if she’d like a coffee, and when she nodded I headed over to a table in a far-off corner of the lab on which a coffee maker and other sundries had been installed. As I was pouring cups for Shannon and myself, Dr. Beth came over to me and picked up a cup as well.

"Good morning, David!" she said, a little too brightly and loudly.

"Hello, Dr. Beth," I replied.

Barely moving her lips, she said in an urgent undertone, "David, I have to talk to you and Shannon as soon as possible. It’s urgent."

"God Beth, I don’t know. Shannon and I need to talk to you too. Our dream experiences have developed some disturbing elements that we really want to discuss with you, but Scott’s watching like a hawk, and we have an experiment in about ten minutes, as soon as they get this coolant leak fixed."

"Look, David," she responded, "the thing is, Scott’s been onto the phone to the puppet masters up in Washington. He gave them the whole story, and they’ve basically told him to go ahead with the next experimental series… at any cost. At any cost! Do you get it? They don’t give a shit about you and Shannon, or any of us. They want to know what’s going on here, and if there’s some possible way they can exploit it, and if there’s a casualty or two along the way, well, that’s just the cost of doing business. They know goddamn well about the blackouts, the abnormal EEG rhythms, the sleep disturbance, all that. They just don’t care.

"And that’s not all. Apparently up at MIT they’ve been doing post mortems on the original Barney project experiments, and… well, it’s not pretty. It seems that n-space is a lot worse than we thought. It looks as if…"

"Hey you two!" said Scott gaily, striding over to join us, "How’s every little thing? Where’ve you been hiding, Beth? I was looking for you in your office earlier."

"Just having breakfast, Scott," she replied.

"And now even more coffee?" he said in mock astonishment, "That’s not like you!"

"It’s the stress, Scott," she smiled, patting his arm, "It’s just the stress. You should grab a cup yourself, hon… do you a world of good. TTFN, all…"

And with that she headed off and out the main air lock without a backward glance.

I returned to Shannon bearing her a cup of coffee, and we stood silently while the frenzy of activity continued around us. Presently, Scott came over and said, "It looks like they’re about ready to proceed. How are you two feeling? Everything okay?" he ended solicitously.

"Just super, Scott," I replied laconically, "Just great."

"That’s great, Davidl!" he replied, choosing to ignore my sarcasm.

We suited up and took our places on the platform, while the orange-suited technicians swarmed around us like worker bees on a queen. Finally, our monitoring equipment attached and functioning, we were left alone. Scott called out the diagnostic sequence and each station responded, then the countdown began. Chilled vapor poured across the floor and swirled around our feet, the Briggs generators began to glow cherry red, then brighter and brighter until they were painful to look at directly.

I closed my eyes as the countdown hit zero, and there was a flash of brilliant white light, followed by the by-now familiar desolation of n-space.

 

As before, Shannon and I were out cold for several hours. After we returned to consciousness Dr. Chandra insisted on our presence in the infirmary for a battery of tests, after which we returned to our rooms and slept for several hours.

Later, we intended to meet for dinner, hoping to be able to be able to discuss the recent turn of events, and perhaps plan our next move. I desperately wanted to tell Shannon what Dr. Beth had been able to relate to me before the experiment, but as I entered the dining room, I saw that Scott was already there, and making for Shannon’s table as well.

As a result, we spent the meal speaking desultorily about trivial matters, and afterwards made our excuses to retreat to our rooms.

"Chandra wants you two to sleep in the infirmary from now on," Scott called after us, "He wants to be able to monitor your sleep patterns, and see what goes on while you’re dreaming. Maybe we’ll even find something really interesting, like some sort of space-time anomaly that we can isolate. Who knows?" he finished cheerfully.

Shannon and I waited until he was well and truly out of earshot, then looked at each other.

"Dr. Beth?" I asked.

"Let’s go."

But Dr. Beth was nowhere to be found. We asked around discreetly, hoping that Scott wouldn’t find out and start asking awkward questions, but nobody knew where she was. I began to suspect that Scott had spirited her away, fearing that she was becoming an ally of ours. With nothing left to do, we sat in the lounge and talked for a while, exchanging our most recent thoughts and experiences, then retreated to our separate rooms.

 

Oddly, that night I didn’t dream. Instead, I woke up with the alarm, feeling, for once, like I’d gotten a decent night’s sleep. I jogged my usual three-mile course in record time, ate a hearty breakfast, and swam lengths in the pool for nearly half an hour.

I checked my online schedule and discovered that, for the moment anyway, there was nothing planned for the day that involved me. I decided to take a workout, something I hadn’t had time for recently, after which I would shower and dress, and head into town. It had been well over a month since I’d been off the site, and I was looking forward to immersing myself in the comforting normalcy of crowds, streets, shopping malls, restaurants… perhaps I might even take in a movie.

It was too much to expect that Scott would let both Shannon and me offsite at once, not after the previous morning’s "debriefing". On the contrary, Scott was likely to try and keep us apart as much as possible over the next few days. I checked Shannon’s schedule and was unsurprised to see that she had a full agenda, several meetings, a seminar at the data center, and several experimental simulations to perform and evaluate.

It was a pleasant day, cloudless and breezy. The stifling heat of the past few weeks had broken, and the air was fresh and remarkably clear. I was mildly surprised that Scott didn’t come up with some sort of an excuse to keep me onsite, but as I drove up to the security office to check out, I saw him walking across the parking lot; he merely waved and went on his way.

I shopped for a new pair of jogging shoes, ate a very pleasant meal in a local Mexican restaurant, and strolled through the downtown for several hours, browsing, taking in the sights and sounds, and generally enjoying the proximity of people who didn’t have to worry about n-space, disturbing dreams, weird EEG rhythms, or unexplained seven hour blackouts.

I was driving back along the highway, the stereo blasting an old Allman Brothers CD, the air conditioning cranked to counter the blazing desert sun, and the accelerator close to the floor when without warning my field of vision contracted to a pinpoint. Suddenly, amidst my confusion and panic, I could smell the red desert sand, and feel the jogging of a horse beneath my seat. I had just enough presence of mind to jerk the wheel to the right and take my foot off the gas; I felt the car lurch over the shoulder of the road and bounce violently across some uneven terrain, then everything was gone.

 

I came to in a hospital bed, and slowly realized that it was not in the facility’s infirmary. My bed was surrounded by curtains, but beyond them I could hear the bustle of a busy hospital emergency room: hurried conversations, someone coughing, periodic announcements over a PA system, rapid footsteps. Now and then, the sound of a gurney being pushed quickly would whirr by in the corridor next to me. For a few moments I was mystified by my surroundings, then it all came back to me, the highway, the blackout, the accident. I did a quick internal inventory and discovered to my mild surprise that I couldn’t detect any real pain anywhere. I wondered what shape my car was in.

The curtains were abruptly pushed aside, and I found myself looking up into Dr. Chandra’s worried face. Behind him, Scott appeared.

"For fuck sake, let’s get him the hell out of here," Scott was saying urgently, "These folks are starting to ask some really awkward questions. I had to pull every string I had just to get them to release him into our custody. Let’s get going before they change their minds."

Dr. Chandra had turned away and was now speaking to a third person, a young physician in green scrubs, likely one of the emergency room staff. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but it sounded as if they were disagreeing about something. Words were exchanged. As he talked, the green-clad doctor picked up a clipboard and stabbed at it emphatically with his forefinger several times. At last, he threw up his hands, muttered something under his breath, and strode off.

"Good!" said Scott, "Let’s go."

"Am I injured?" I asked Chandra.

"No," he replied as he wheeled a gurney over next to my bed, "You were very lucky, Dr. Connor. It could have been a lot worse.

"Your car is also undamaged," he continued as he helped me onto the gurney, "It has been towed back to the facility."

I was wheeled down several long corridors and then outside, while Scott strode impatiently along beside us. It was already dark. I was placed into an ambulance, which then pulled out of the hospital parking lot and headed out along the highway that lead back to the installation. I was still very weak and dozed several times. When I at last awoke, we were bouncing along the sandy track that led to the front gates. We slowed and stopped, and Scott exchanged a few words with an armed MP that came to the window. Then we drove ahead and eventually came to a stop in front of the infirmary building.

I was wheeled inside and into the same room that I occupied before.

"Just relax," said Dr. Chandra as he pulled the curtains around my bed, but he looked anything but relaxed himself, "Just relax. I will be back shortly. Is there anything the nurse can bring you now?"

I shook my head. Chandra disappeared down the hallway; Scott was nowhere to be seen. I closed my eyes.

 

The taste of red dust is in my mouth and nose. My eyes sting with it. I choke, and squint, trying to make out the long line of captives ahead of me. I am riding on the back of a horse, but it is not my own. It is a much larger mount, unfamiliar. The suns are low on the horizon, casting long black shadows ahead of us. Armed, black-clad guards ride among us, shouting and occasionally flicking their long whips at a straggler.

As the dust clears for a few moments, I see the back of a woman riding ahead of me. She is familiar. As she turns to look over her shoulder, I see that it is Saree, and a fresh stab of terror pierces my guts. This was not supposed to be. This journey was mine to make alone. She was only supposed to accompany me as far as the narrow pass that leads from our valley down onto this broad plain. But, I remember, as we were saying our tender goodbyes and pledging to be together again very soon, a roving patrol of Immat Kashim descended upon us, and within seconds we were both bound hand and foot. Our horses were taken, and we were thrown roughly onto the backs of two different mounts, then led down onto the plain to join with this, a much larger band, who were already leading a long line of shackled prisoners across the desert toward Bashir.

Now, my mind is in turmoil. I had prepared for this mission, prepared in mind and body, in spirit and soul; I had dedicated my entire being for this task, and now, suddenly, everything was different. What am I to do? How could I perform my mission and somehow find Saree and keep her safe as well? My mind flits ahead to numberless possibilities. Where would she be kept? Where would I be kept? Would she be killed? Would I be able to find her again? I know that there are secret helpers within the walls of the city, those who would, at great risk to themselves and their fellows, help me to escape, but how could I ask them to risk their lives to help me find Saree and escape with her as well? What if she is taken immediately to the mines, or to some other secret place, outside the walls of the city? The prospect alarms me. But she is very pretty, so I pray that she may be taken to the harem as well as I. I do not dwell on the terrifying possibility that I myself might not be taken there.

We ride for hours, while the suns move overhead and settle towards the distant horizon. I am very thirsty, my mouth, eyes and nose are full of dust. My bladder is full and the pressure is painful, yet the line shows no sign of stopping short of its destination.

Then, far away in the distance, I see the pillars and towers of Bashir, glinting in the last, ruddy glow of the setting suns. We are getting close to the walled city. We will be there soon, and I must have a plan!

The dust rises again, and I lose sight of Saree and the rest of the line of prisoners. My mind whirls, my heart pounds with fear, for her as well as myself. What do I do? I wish I could somehow talk with Saree. She would know what to do. I would give much to confer once again with Al Kamar, or Al Saíd. Oh God! Help me, guide me! Give me a sign! Please tell me what to do!

 

(continued)

  

  

  

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