Fire-Fall

The year was 2089, twelve decades since man had first set foot on the moon, and six since he had first been to the red planet. Man was setting foot on another moon again today, but this time it was a different moon, of a different planet.

The Zeus had set off from the Artemis Base on Mars on a quest that pushed the limits of human exploration to the outer reaches of the Solar System. After a long and sleepy journey, the Zeus had successfully landed in the Tyre crater on Europa, the icy moon of Jupiter. They had landed a mile from the crater's center, which meant that they were at one of the deepest points on the surface of the moon. The jagged concentric ridges of the crater formed a hauntingly beautiful maze on the otherwise smooth terrain of the frozen world. The moon was a study in grey monochrome, and the sky was almost entirely covered by the giant looming silhouette of Jupiter. The Captain had taken in the sight in one long silent survey of his surroundings.

Their mission was not to linger on the surface, but to drill. It was estimated by the geologists back home that the ice was 19km deep from where they had landed. His own drilling engineer on board had not been very pleased by that estimation.

"19 km of ice?! Do you know how long it had taken the Russians to drill 4 km down to Lake Vostok?..two bloody decades!"

"Those drills were older than your grandma, Bore", Terra drawled. Terra was the geologist of the crew, complete with a cowboy hat. His tall lanky frame looked strangely incomplete without it.

"You'd expect we would have gotten smarter by now, eh?", Bore muttered as he gingerly adjusted the lasers.

That was nearly 20 Earth days ago, and almost 15 since the crew had last seen sunlight. They were close now to hitting the surface of the massive ocean that was surmised to lie underneath the ice.

The Captain looked over to check on the members of his team. Glide and Wire had stayed back on the Zeus. Quanta, the physicist, was taking measurements around him. He was an expert in matters ranging from the radiation on the icy moon's surface, to the strange magnetic effects that they had experienced since they had arrived. He more than made up for Bore's lack of enthusiasm, and the surrounding gloom seemed to have no dampening effect on it. Their planetary communication expert was analyzing a spot to embed the next tranceiver. Since they were so deep, Link the cryobot had been placing tiny tranceivers after every 500 meters to relay their progress back to the Zeus. Europa already has a faster communication network than what Earth had a hundred years ago, Terra had remarked. Apart from a geologist, he was apparently a historian too.

For the crucial mission to Europa, every crew member had trained to be a Specialist. In the last 20 years or so, technology, in the form of brain-computer interfaces and neuronal implants, had enabled individuals to learn and process amazingly massive amounts of information, so that each person could become nearly a complete expert in his or her chosen field. The capacity of the brain was not unlimited though, which meant that most individuals could only be an expert in a few fields of study, but the depth of their expertise was almost completely comprehensive. Glide, the pilot, knew every detail about the Zeus, and everything there was to know about gravitational space navigation. Wire was one of the leading Specialists in long range communication, Terra was the planetary terrain Specialist and had been leading the terraforming on Mars before embarking on this mission. The Captain himself was a multi-Specialist, which was why he was the Captain. He was a Specialist in space exploration, solar energy engineering, crisis management, survival skills and certain other tricks that he did not need to reveal to his crew yet.

The Captain looked ahead of him, where the other two members of his crew stood. Nymph, a young marine biologist, was a prodigy who could recite every species of living organism known to man. Beside her stood Zeno, tall and expressionless, his keen grey eyes taking in everything around him. Zeno was the one who fascinated the Captain the most. He was a Generalist, the only one on the mission, which meant that he knew something about what every other crew-member knew, and more. He was their failsafe, their insurance policy, and their handyman.

"Cap'n, come on over. You'd wanna see this", called out Bore. "Time to break the ice." Even Bore seemed interested, now that they had almost drilled through the ice. Quanta was holding his breath so visibly that you could see him turn slightly purple, although he didn't seem to notice it.

"Everyone ready?" The Captain looked around. Each crew member checked his equipment and nodded in turn. They had trained many months for this -- "Operation Breakthrough".

He gave the command, "Let's do it."

The lasers melted through the last block of ice separating them from the fabled Ocean of Europa. The water flooded into the chamber, and for the first time, mankind swam into a new ocean on an alien world.

"Houston, we are swimming into new waters", the Captain declared almost nonchalantly, as billions of people on Earth, the Moon and Mars listened in.

He could hear cheering from the command center back home. Terra thumped Quanta on the back, who was in a midair whoop of victory. Nymph was gazing in wonder through the glass of their underwater pod.

"We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time."

The Captain thought of that old verse as he smiled and went around shaking hands with his crew to congratulate them. But Zeno was staring at a fixed point ahead, as he let out a small whistle.

"Now isn't that something" he said quietly. They all turned to where he was looking. No amount of training could have prepared them for what they were seeing.

Ahead of them stretched a massive mountain range, with mountains so tall that Mount Everest would appear as a mere child in the presence of these giants. And neither were these giants some benevolent guardians of Europa, but were burning red in the the rivers of lava that flowed down their sides into the canyons below. 

It was as if the elements on Europa had switched all the roles of elements on Earth. The ice through which they had just drilled through was a canopy above them, the sky to the ocean here below. The lava was to the ocean of Europa, what water was to the lands of Earth. The glaciers of Europa were these mountains of fire, the birthplace of the red rivers. It was a magnificent spectacle, with the deep hot streams flowing like blood through the veins of the moon. Europa, it seemed, was a cold maiden on the exterior, but a fiery beast within.

And ahead on the right, as they rushed down the slopes, the streams of lava swerved and hissed and merged into a massive river that fell over a cliff into the canyon. The river swept at least a couple of miles across as it fell in a majestic and mighty curtain of fire, billowing terrible clouds of steam where it touched the cold ocean. Firefall, the Captain thought.

"Look, down there", said Nymph, her mouth hanging slightly open, a look of undiluted amazement on her face. At the base of the canyon where the falling fire met the land, the lava shimmered and gathered itself in a large lake. The edge of the "lake" was formed by the cooled barriers where the lava had hardened into rock. The barrier itself was several hundred feet tall, and some rivulets pierced through the barrier to flow further in criss-crossing streams across the canyon floor.

But something was bothering the Captain, as he looked at that cauldron of lava. "Take the pod down there",  he instructed. The small rivulets that were breaking through the wall became clearer. And thats when it hit him...

"This barrier around the lava lake isn't...natural.", he whispered. "Its a dam."





The rivulets flowed through the intricate system of purposefully and masterfully carved arches in the wall of the dam, irrigating the surrounding farms, providing the precious fire that was needed for Life to flourish in that cold ocean below the icy sky.

The Discoverer

He was finally here.

He stood tall and silent upon the rocky ground as his keen sharp eyes took in the sight before him. The muscles in his body were tensed, and he felt like in that place, at that moment, it was his body that kept the sky tethered to the earth. The strange emotion on his face was that of complete ecstasy and innocent wonder mingled with supreme dignity.

He had been the bravest, strongest and wisest among all the Searchers, and when he was chosen, there was not one person in the tribe who doubted the choice, and not one person who envied him for it. For the journey would be the toughest any of them had ever undertaken. He had traveled for years, across deserts, rivers and mountains, and he was finally here. He had walked in the deep dark shadows of unnamed woods, and on the soft green grass of endless plains. He had braved the bite of the wind, the spears of the rain, and the wrath of the sun. He had seen wonders he never knew existed, but all that paled in comparison to what he saw now. His knees were weak, whether because he was tired or fearful, he did not know.

He remembered his mother, who used to sit with him and watch the red sunset wash the blue above and the green below. The deep dark night used to come marching from the realms of time to mingle with the fading rays of the sun, till their entire vision was filled with a majestic shade of magnificent purple. "Where does he go, mother? Where does the sun go at night?" he used to ask her. And always she used to reply, "I do not know, son. Maybe you shall find out one day."

Today was that day. Today was the day he stood at the edge of the world, on the brink of a sheer cliff, with the wind furiously howling into his face. Today was the day he bore witness to the unseen, listened to the unheard, and reached for the untouched. It was massive beyond anything he had ever imagined, stretching to as far as his eyes would allow him to see. It was constantly in motion, heaving up and down, sometimes like a sleeping giant, sometimes like a breathless playful child. And the sound! Never had he heard such a restless yet serene song, a song that sang of the balance between the desire to do and the desire to be. The world was young, and he had discovered that which no man had come upon before. 

He was the first man on Earth to discover the Ocean.

He stood transfixed, tall and silent upon the rocky ground. He felt the rocks below him as he felt his own muscles. He felt the water of the Ocean as the life force of his own blood. He felt the chaotic repeated consistency of the waves resonate with his breathing. He saw himself as he had never seen before, as the raw extension of the rocks, the water, the sun, and the wind. He saw himself shaped and driven by an immense force, a force that he could only feel but not fathom. He saw himself as the tiny speck of existence, a witness to the grandeur and beauty of the Ocean before him. And yet, it was from mere drops that the Ocean was made, and it was through his existence that its beauty was discovered. And in that moment of awareness, he realized that the greatness of the Earth, the Sky and the Ocean were converged and manifested at the single point that was himself.

The young world turned the same magnificent shade of purple that he had seen so many times before. "I know where the sun goes at night", he said quietly.

Caerula Rota

They all looked at each other. The five of them stood silently. There was much to say, much to be heard. They had met like this only four times before, and the last gathering had been a hundred years ago. They were ageless and constant, and had existed since the dawn of humankind.

The first among them was an old man with a long grey beard and an imposing presence. His eyes sparkled with wisdom, and though he crouched slightly, he still towered over the others. He wore a majestic flowing robe, with the color of the sky woven into its threads. On his brow, he wore a simple wreath of gold, with a splendid sapphire stone in the center. When he spoke, he did so in a soothing voice, a voice with which there could be no arguments nor disagreements. A voice that was undeniably true, and unfathomably deep. A voice that everyone would always listen to. They called him Aurolingon, the Master of the Golden Tongue.

The second was a beautiful woman, delicate in her movements and graceful in her gait. She had no signs of the long years on her timeless face, except for the glowing and generous kindness in her eyes. For although she was almost as old as Aurolingon, she had the looks of a woman in the full blossom of her youth. She was a dancer beyond doubt, and when she danced one was held spellbound by the story narrated through her expressive face and her lithe flowing movements. She was Intempestia, the Timeless Dancer.

The third was a young woman, with an elegant and intelligent face. She had piercing and thoughtful eyes, and she carried with her a quill and a scroll. The quill had a bright blue fountain-like feather springing from its end, and never had it the need for any ink. She also possessed a remarkable scroll, which never ran out of space while she wrote on it with the quill. She was called Fonsplectra, the Wielder of the Fountain Quill.

The fourth was a man obsessed with structure and form. He was restless, eager and temperamental -- sometimes highly animated and sometimes quietly peaceful. But he was a genius like no other, an artist of unmatched skill. Not only was he a master of musical compositions, but was also a painter with limitless vision. He held a strange wand in his hand, with a paintbrush at one end and a flute at the other. He was known as Pictorhythmus, the Painter of Rhythms.

The fifth was a very strange man indeed. He was different from the rest of them, and seemed to be as old as Aurolingon, yet as youthful as Intempestia. It was said that he had keen blue eyes that could see through the depths of one's thoughts, and sharp ears that could understand the meaning in one's breaths. He seldom spoke, and wore a black cloak, held by an intricate brooch of shimmering and hypnotizing patterns. And though he seemed less stately than the others, he exuded a quiet sense of nobility and power. He was the Listener, the Reader, the Observer. He was Percipius, the Man who Understood.

They stood in the Temple of Vibrations. It was a magnificent hall, with a high ceiling almost extending to the stars. The pillars and the walls had ornate shapes and figures etched in gold and sapphire, and even a whisper was amplified a thousand times in the hall. In the center of the hall was an altar that had a small circular pond, with a substance that was neither water nor air. The substance was eternally in motion, strangely moving inwards towards the center in harmonious ripples. The five of them stood around the pond, and looked at each other.

"It is time", said Aurolingon, in a voice that awoke them all to the task at hand. It had taken them ages of preparation for this moment. Aurolingon took off his crown and placed it below in front of him. Fonsplectra did the same with her quill, and Pictorhythmus with his wand. Intempestia took her necklace, which was made of countless stones of sapphire and followed suit. Percipius took off his hood to reveal his startling blue eyes, and unsheathed his dagger, placing it respectfully on the ground.

The Moon shone through opening in the high ceiling, and the walls of the Temple began to vibrate. The ripples in the pond reversed direction, and moved outwards. At the bottom of the pond, the Blue Wheel was rising.

The Aurora

He peered into the distance. It was hard to peer at anything in that weather with the furious winds whistling and shooting arrows towards him. But he stood there unperturbed, and from a distance it would have seemed that he was frozen. Frozen in time, as a spectator of that which was spectacular, and a sentinel of that which was serene. Roger was at the North Pole, and he was peering along the tangent at the top of the world.

He was not sure why he was standing there, alone. He had come there in search of supreme solitude, and had found it. And strangely, in the midst of those cold plains of ice, the restless longing in his heart was melting away. He listened to the tales told by the winds, and saw now why the color of peace was white. Here, his existence revealed itself in its purest form. Here, he was unquestioned, unhinged, and unbound. Here he could feel, and he could be.

In that place, there was literally no measure of time, for the sun rose and set only once a year. And when it set, it left behind a sheet of clear ice that glimmered soft and quiet in the fading light. True, it was cold and desolate, but it was also pristinely beautiful and magnificent. When the long night arrived, the empty white land found a companion in the inky black sky. And studded in the blackness were millions of stars, each of which was reflected in the millions of crystals of ice below. Roger watched as the plot unfolded. The white and the black had joined together in celebration and were lit up in shimmering silver.

And that was just the beginning, a modest prelude to an extraordinary story. Then, as if bursting through a dam, came rivers of flowing green light from the sky. The Aurora! The Curtains to the Heavens! The satin drapes of green began covering and uncovering the dark horizon. The performance had begun. Slowly the streams of green merged into a single translucent sheet, and Roger could have sworn that he saw writing on the sheet, a message from beyond his understanding. Then just as the sheet of green was diverging into newer streams, a flood of blue broke into the arena! And the blue playfully swirled around the green, teasing and inviting it to join in. The green obliged, and soon the vista was filled with green and blue spirals, hypnotizing and embracing the entire sky. Roger stood transfixed, his eyes and thoughts held hostage by the mesmerizing display. He was the sole witness to a performance crowned with splendor.

The shifting palette began changing color again. Red, purple and orange accompanied the green and blue to paint the night. A midnight rainbow engulfed the shroud above, and it was dynamic and subtle. Roger saw shapes he had never seen, and which he would never see again. There were castles and mountains, spears and chariots, fountains and roads. And so danced the spirits to some unheard divine music.

No words could describe the beauty in the air that night, no song could sing its praise. Roger stood watching, frozen in time. Eventually, after hours or perhaps even days, the Northern Lights decided to return into the deep darkness. They flickered graciously and slowly exited the stage.

Roger took a deep breath. It was the deepest breath he had ever taken.

The Slasher

His heart was pounding in his chest. His breathing was heavy. With every breath he took he could feel the oxygen coursing through his body and filling each cell with a raging fire. He could feel his nerves tingling and his muscles tense with anticipation. The adrenaline was gushing into him.

They called him the Slasher. He was the only one on the First Tetra, who had the ability to leave it. The First Tetra was the name given to the original four dimensions that the Humans had inhabited. Before the other seven dimensions were discovered, the Humans had played around with mathematical notions about vibrations in eleven dimensions, but had tried and failed to pierce through the inter-dimensional membranes. They had failed, until the Slasher was born into the First Tetra. He was one of the Travelers, who were not bound to the four dimensions of their birth, and could enter and leave the other dimensions at their will. The Slasher and the 329 other Travelers were the guardians of the Dimensional Gates, and were both feared and respected by the inhabitants of all the dimensions.

In the beginning he had been unable to control and understand his own will. But now, he had conquered his rage, and strangely that victory had crowned him with an even greater strength and power. He burst through the galaxy like a cannon, with a single-minded purpose and ferocity. His mere gaze could have pierced a thousand stars.

He had been known by a more pleasant name before this age. But since then a lot of things had changed. He was called the Slasher because of the sword he carried as his weapon of choice. In the beginning he had used the sword as more of a tool than a weapon. Each Traveler needed an object from his Tetra of birth to be able to cross the Dimensional Gates. The sword had always been a symbol of honor and power on Earth, and he had chosen a magnificent blade to be his companion. A blade with a glorious and ancient history, whose shining edges had been unblemished by the passage of Time. For, the Slasher was not tied to the thread of Time.

The Slasher relished the speed and the thrill of travelling through the Dimensional Gates. It was a rush he would never get tired of. Knowing his limits gave him a sense of calm and humility, a humility that showed him that he was a mere atom of energy in the ocean of the Universe. And pushing those limits gave him a strange kind of freedom, a freedom that made anything possible, a freedom that extended to infinity.

The day the Gates to the 5th dimension had been opened was beyond doubt the most significant moment in the Humans' short history. That day was celebrated every year as the Day of Open Light, for it was the day that had opened not just the Gates, but also the Human mind -- to possibilities and wonders that till then had been barely even fathomed. Indeed, it had united the Humans in a way no other event had done before, and had imparted them with an even greater curiosity than before the revelation. But curiosity causes curious things itself. And the curiosity emanating from the First Tetra had led to several events in all the Dimensions, including the current journey of the Slasher.

The Slasher tore his way across the Gates, using every inch of his force and endurance. He had to reach the Diamond Star.

(To be continued...)

Duality

Lisa liked to go to the lake, in the orange glow of the sunset, and watch the ripples in the water. It made her feel lost, and at the same time, fully aware. It was where she felt at home, her own place of belonging. She was mesmerized by the endless continuity of the ripples. She was a woman of science, and being intrigued and curious was a part of her nature.

James liked to stay in his cabin, in the orange glow of the lamps, and listen to the drops falling on the roof. It made him feel relaxed, and at the same time, extremely powerful. It was his own place of belonging, where he felt at home. He was fascinated by the endless discreteness of the drops. He was a man of faith, and being satisfied and content was a part of his nature.

Lisa had a deep relationship with music, for the dynamics of each song she heard gave her a liberating sense of movement through time. James, however, was a connoisseur of paintings and sculpture, and he found a strange peace in experiencing the static, that which was immovable in space. In the fabric of space-time, Lisa found fulfillment in the exciting process of becoming, while James found it in the undisturbed state of being.

James often thought about free will and fate, and he intuitively knew that somehow they were connected. It was a question he found worth pondering, and he wondered if he was pondering because he could, or because he should. For him, the cause had always been more important than the effect. Lisa, on the other hand, had always been more concerned with the effect, and found it worth her while to look for answers. She relished the pure logic and reason that spoke of the duality of waves and particles, of electricity and magnetism, of the vertical and the horizontal. While James was interested in the aesthetics of symmetry and asymmetry, Lisa was interested in the scales of the very large and the very small. James believed in the internal, Lisa in the external.

Yet though they were different, they were also the same. The threads of duality had woven them inseparably together, although they had never met. They were independent individuals who were parts of the same whole, and were thus dependent on each other. They both had played with predictability and uncertainty, with complexity and simplicity. They had both taken upon themselves the responsibility to explore the relative and the absolute. Sometimes they had been the hammer, and sometimes the nail. Sometimes the sword, and sometimes the sheath. They were both devoted worshipers of the supreme duality of the finite and the infinite. And they were both waiting for the Event --the Event that would unite the Yin and the Yang.

The night and the day overlapped in the mysterious mosaic of twilight, and the fading light merged into the glowing shadows. They both sat still, waiting to see what lay in that unseen spectrum between black and white.

The Quest

The Desert was breathtakingly magnificent that evening. The deep red glow of the sun cast its velvet blanket upon the entire landscape. Usually the fading light made the desert look powerful and menacing. But today was different. Today the patterns of sand on the dunes were like the smooth designs on a flowing texture of silk. The desert seemed endlessly full and generous, and instilled a sense of trust that was unquestionable. The deceptively stationary dunes were opening their arms in a welcome embrace.

Hassan sat on the sand and took it all in. He was acutely aware of himself alone in that wide span of emptiness. But he knew deep down that he was a part of the desert, inseparably connected to it. The red blood that flowed in him was not so different from the red sand that filled the desert. And that connection gave him a sense of security he could not fully explain. All the fear in him seemed like a mere pebble that did not belong and did not matter in that soothing vastness. He trusted the desert implicitly. He always had. He had been trained to.

The Dune Sailors were a strange tribe. They were fierce, they were fearless, and they were completely free. Their traditions were centered around the absence of desire and want, which filled their journeys with great peace and contentment. They were masters in the art of survival, and loved the Desert more than anything or anyone. And when they traveled across the Desert, none could match their endurance and speed, which was why they were called the Dune Sailors.

Hassan held the soft sand in his palm. He had a task to perform, a quest to complete. It was an honor to be chosen for the quest, and it was also a test. "Go forth my son, ", the Eldest had said. "Go forth and find that which lies in the center of the Desert." Hassan had a look of confusion on his face. "But what should I look for?", he had asked. The Eldest had stared intensely into the distance, as if he could see what lay there, or as if he had seen it in some long forgotten age. "If I told you, you would not find it.", he said. It hadn't made sense then. But Hassan was beginning to understand now. The only way he would find what he was looking for, was by letting go of the desire to find it.

The Desert wind whispered in his ear: "Follow the Mirages, but don't let them lead you."