The Communicator (Part 2)
Metanoia - Chapter 2 - Life Path 3
Character Chart: A Map to the Nine Lives
In this life, I saw everyone, but no one could see me.
Perhaps we are who we are, but who we are amongst our kind is something entirely different. A broken rule amongst the physical and social constructs, there was no identity to discover there for me. I was forced to manage “I” in a sea of “us” on my own. On days that were particularly difficult, I carried around a letter or note, usually from Fren. The words alone gave the paper value to me. Words filled empty spaces, conveying meaning out of the nothingness.
While language was my passion, gardening was my art. I suspect mother thought that my plant hoarding was a behavior associated with the Artisan component of myself, as if wanting to replicate them through sculpture or drawing. It is common for Artisans to have this behavior as children, becoming fixated on certain objects and wanting to recreate them in some way. I think she was slightly confused when she saw me digging dirt in the back yard instead like a Laborer, planting them in various arrangements around the corners and walkways. She never said anything about it, and let me go about my business.
My adolescent mind wondered if the plants could talk to one another in some secret language that I couldn’t see or understand. I imagined each plant having its own personality, and based that on where it belonged. Klush and Caughtips preferred to be towards the fence or the corners because they liked to see their residence as a whole from a distance. Pineweed and Cress were placed in the middle and around the walkways because they needed the security of being seen and loved. Then there was my favorite plant, Opalias, whose flowers bloomed petals of every color of the spectrum and had little specs of white all over. I placed them everywhere, amidst every corner and walkway as reflection of their diverse appearance.
As a Caretaker, Zenon took to me naturally no matter what strange interests or activities I was found doing. I remember his warm smiles, how he’d clean off my dirt covered my hands, arms, and parts of my face where I wiped without thinking. He was a brother and a step-in-dad for the first few years of my life.
Remi wasn’t as close with me. There wasn’t tension or conflict between us, I don’t feel there was enough time or reason to. There was just lack of interest or indifference. I knew my place in the family. I didn’t get in the way of activities or everyones life. I secluded myself in order to be unnoticed when they didn’t need to be bothered by my behaviors. However, I knew she cared about me. When my interest became more practical as I got older, planting seeds of fruits, vegetables and herbs to enhance to our food, It made more sense to her then and our relationship bloomed with age and time.
All my life, Fren was the only companion I had amongst my peers, until Fren made a friend of her own and introduced him to our isolated duo.
It was the first year we left generalized schooling and began our Artisan track. Fren was extremely gifted, and could have accelerated past me if she wanted to, but decided against it so that we could go on together. In her first year, she proposed a project to the head Artisan in charge of our class. She had been planning it for months, wanting to make her first attempt at the matriculation of her skills into our society. Even an automated life like ours needed inspiration to continue with our purpose. She wished to use an empty unused plot of land to create a physical display of the 6 forces that shaped our life. This required collaboration in which the head Artisan assigned a Laborer and Technician to her project, both the same age and ahead of their class.
Denon was the Laborer assigned to her idea, and the new addition to our friendship.
When we worked on it together, he saw me gathering plants and designing the gardens. He brought me a baby Opalia the next day that he found growing near his commune. It was rare for someone to take notice in what I did and what I was. I put it in a larger pot to give it room to grow.
When Umarians weren’t pursuing their life’s course, they visited the Descended Springs.
Denon, Fren, and myself took a trip there after our project was completed, which became open to the public and turned into a main attraction for villagers coming to and from their duties and breaks.
The path to the Descended Springs went over the town limits, and down into the western valley. Taking at least three hours, the entire trek was a thick vegetated descent. Domesticated odyks carried all our supplies on the venture, their hooves accustomed to steep, winding terrain. The forestry altered dramatically during the three short hours of our travels, starting out as low shrubs and twigs, gradually dropping into trees that went far higher than our gaze. Upon arrival, the trees became lower and wider with extraordinarily thick limbs that twisted and turned around the landscape. The limbs were so thick that houses were built on them and used as avenues between homes on other trees around the forest. Just beyond this highway of branches was the main event, a massive hot spring fed by a towering waterfall that dropped off a cliff. It was almost too high for us to see the end of. The mixture of steaming hot water and cool mountain runoff made it perfect for swimming. Surrounding the area were several small hot springs in clearings next to the trees. We were lucky to have our particular residence near one, which Denon planned and built himself.
At this time, I was aware of the distinction between friends, and people you spent time with. A person called a friend was someone who facilitated my growth. It was someone whom I shared core principles and values with so that there was a foundation to build upon. After that, the floor plans and the furnishings were extraneous. There we stood in the home Denon made years before, and then shared with us on that day, its sturdy structure as something we could feel safe in.
There was something about the way that the sunlight came into contact with the leaves, revealing a viridescence that wasn’t there before. The longer we were away and I was on my own, the closer I felt to this golden tint of green and calm that set in. A life away from the mechanism of society felt completely different with the adaptations I had to acquire. There was the opportunity to dream while I was awake. The wisps of clouds in the sky and mist that hovered over watery surfaces took form.
Each day began with the harvesting of locally grown food for the day’s consumption. There were small plots of excavated land scattered throughout the area, giving complete freedom to pick or grow what you wanted. The rest of the day consisted of swimming in the misty lake, relaxing in the hot springs, and preparing food. We’d go about our own business either with one another, or on our own. I dedicated this time to the written series of The Six Life Forces, which my mother gave to me as a gift. Each volume, six in total, were big enough to be a text book for all my theology classes combined. On that first trip, I brought Preservation. The pages were filled with beautiful illustrations of men and women with giant wings of glossy black feathers. Their bodies were powerful and expressions determined to the likeness of guardians. I began with this volume, the one I felt I understood the least. There were only few Protectors in my past classes. I never quite understood what it was we needed protecting from.
Discovering a thick patch of vegetation high up in our tree, I secluded myself there to read about these people. The leaves hung in a way that made it impossible to see in or out. No one saw me perched up on the limb. I was free from distractions, and able to enter a new world.
Denon emerged out of the labyrinth of vegetation once to discover my sacred space while I was immersed in words. He didn’t seem to expect me there at first, but wasn’t surprised either. He always had a calm steadiness about him that had no real opposition, only overall acceptance. While sitting next to me as I read, he took out his knife and began cutting down vines and quietly assembling them in some fashion. Spending a great deal of time quietly kneading and working something into creation where I couldn’t see, I sat idly with my book, curious about what he was doing. Several minutes passed, until suddenly Denon dropped out of tree onto the ground. I put the book down, carefully approaching the edge of the limb where the leaves were thinner and I could peer out. Right below me held a vine swing gently blowing in the breeze as if it had been there all along.
“Try it out” I heard Denon say behind me.
He helped me down so that I could drift and sway through the trees, my vision lazily dissolving into the green and specs of light. For years to come, my place of seclusion also had a quality of play.
Despite the great joy and solace I felt each day at this refuge, each night was overcome with terror. It happened in my sleep, falling into a completely different world the moment I lay down. It was the same dream of death that I had since youth, which became more dark and sinister with age. The lightness of day and fine lines of the memory got twisted and distorted into dark grays and jagged edges. As if something was holding me down, I was always forced to watch gasps of air, the life dissipating with each moment. The purple feathers turned black and limbs became listless. The dream only lasted a minute but I felt as though centuries had passed. In a waking state, I was grounded enough to know the irrationality of this fear, but it would not leave. It wouldn’t subside until the full moon cycle was complete, and it was time for us to go home and continue our real lives.
When I arrived back at the village, I came home to an empty family dwelling. Remi became a Technician of agriculture, a very important job for our village, as it ensured the best possible crop production, ultimately determining the success of the village. Agricultural Technicians collected and dispensed seeds that came from the best plants, and then procured them to be mated. I’d only seen the place once on a trip offered by the school. An endless room full of records kept all the data of each plant for the past several decades, including information on size, growth rate, palatability, and resistance to harmful conditions. The most interesting plants to me were the ones that required water to be fertilized. Thousands of small vials contained their cloudy secretion, labeled very carefully to be selected and paired appropriately. Technicians were not the only ones working in this building. Laborers trained by Technicians cultivated seeds and watery samples out in the fields.
While nursing was almost the only occupation available to caretakers, there was one other obtainable position. This role was in management for our hospitals and various branches of society. Caretakers were ideal administrators, having the best interest of those working for them. They strived to make sure everyone was provided with everything they needed in order to carry out their tasks. Zenon became one of these managers for the local hospital that mother worked in.
It felt as though everyone’s life moved on around me as mine stood still. It was not clear if this was due to the feeling of separation, or from being left to my own devices. I suspect it was some mixture of both. When I was given more time alone at home, and more time with the people who mattered to me, the chameleon no longer had to keep up with the colors of her background. Everything in life seemed to slow down and intensify.
With the arrival of a new day, I exposed my rested eyes to the vivid clarity of sunlight. Gazing up at the sunbeams that streamed through the trees and over building tops from my third story window, I believed that the first image seen upon awakening set the tone for the rest of the day. With this, I could make any day the way I wanted it. If I had it my way, I’d have an entire lifetime of my own creation.
It was the day of my initiation. I would find out whether or not I could continue on my path and be given my first assignment, or have to spend more time in training. I left the translucent veil covering the sky on my window to find my clothes neatly placed on my work table from my mother. The indigo garments buttoned down at an angle towards the right and had an exaggerated flare of cloth on the back where our tufts were situated. I felt self conscious about having the unusual mix of colors stick out so noticeably, where I’d usually try to cover it instead. I pulled it on, pulled my hair back, and read until it was time to leave.
When I left my dwelling, I saw several people leaving their home, also decorated in their uniforms. Bright yellow, orange, vivid blue, and dark brown were scattered throughout the organized chaos of our village. The reddish-tan structures still towered over avenues in the same intimidating way it always had when I was a child. Denon somehow picked me out from the crowd and walked me to the capitol, where we would eventually split up, and I would be united with Fren in our division. His presence was strong and he centered me. It was as if everything else around us blurred into the background. I suddenly realized how lucky I was that I didn’t have to go through this day alone. Yes, I felt terribly isolated in my existence there, but the world was kind enough to equip me with a few comrades. It took the pressure off the outcomes of the final decision of the council, diluting the worry of making it in this world as an outsider. Without saying much, he squeezed my hand and we shared a glance before parting our separate ways.
There were nine of us waiting outside the decision room for our appointment with the Artisan Council. We lined up in order, sitting patiently for our turn. I came second, and Fren was right after me. Beautiful sculptures lined the walls in the hallway, with an impressive mural of the Artisan origin displayed across it. It portrayed our planet Galem in the beginning, when the spark of life birthed all the plants and animals, the world that we know today. Galem split into 6 pieces, this one showing the indigo segment transforming into a beautifully robed Artisan that glowed. In her possession was a gnarled tree that bloomed into life. It hovered in the palms of her hands, signifying creation.
The first Artisan left the room, his expression calm and resolute, certificate and assignment in hand. I peered through the crack in the doorway, to see the three head Artisans sitting together on their column.
“Come in Xenia” the one on the right urged.
“Don’t be nervous, this meeting will turn out in your favor” said my Instructor, instantly taking all the pressure of the day off. I was grateful to have Keanz as my Instructor, who was kind enough to be casual right from the start. Perhaps this is how it was for everyone, and the formal attire and stern expressions were all just hype.
“Yes, now that the surprise has been spoiled, we might as well get right into it” the left one replied. “After careful examination of your work, it’s evident that most, if not all of your creations are some sort of adaptation of literature” she continued.
“And it didn’t take a careful eye to see the extensive amount of hours you have logged at the library” Keanz added.
“At first we didn’t know what to do with this” the right instructor chimed in. “Luckily, a position has just been made available that is perfect for you, and would normally be a hinderance to our other candidates”
I was a little embarrassed of the difficulty my peculiar nature posed for this circumstance, but kept listening hopefully.
“We believe you are ready to move on with your training, with this being the first step” left instructor interjected. “For twenty-four moon cycles, you are to work as a scribe. Its not a permanent position obviously, but there is a pile of books made of poor material that are in advanced decay, and in need of restoration.”
I waited for them to continue before I said anything
“That couldn’t be more suitable” I said, as it was the plain truth.
“Yes, we are lucky to have you here, considering this is a job in long need of completion”.
This assignment would be an arduous chore for anyone else. I would miss other modalities of art that I learned to enjoy but this made sense.
“This is very useful, immensely convenient, but we implore you to expand. Explore your skillset throughout the course of this assignment. Take up different studies once you found something. This will not last you your entire life, and we don’t want to see you regress.” The left instructor continued.
I looked at Keanz, who offered a warm smile and look of assurance.
“We want to see you succeed”.
I wondered if they thought I would.
I walked up to their platform so that they could hand me my certificate, which was securely fastened onto a wooden tablet, as well as an abnormally thick file that presumably included my assignment.
When I walked out of the room, Fren gave me a look as if she wasn’t surprised at what she saw, and that this was all to be expected. I waited for her in the silence of the empty courtyard, with only the sound of a few quiet conversations in the distance. I snagged a low lying fruit off a nearby tree and settled into a comfortable resting position. Flipping through the file, I discovered a compilation of alternatives for me to focus on in addition to the scribe assignment. With some maneuvering of the pages, I also discovered a small key attached to a piece of paper with an address. There were living quarters near the library, but I didn’t know where this space was allocated for the crew. When Fren emerged from the council chamber, certificate in hand, we decided we would try to find it.
Still in uniform, we made our way over to the library, crossing seven intersections and cutting through several courtyards.
“I know where it is” she said, a smirk on her face. I was surprised when she started to lead us as we got closer to the library. We walked past it, continuing down the path and coming upon a few lots that I was expecting to be mine.
Instead, we kept walking until the buildings got smaller and more sparse. Suddenly, Fren took an unexpected left turn onto an unbeaten path.
“I’ve never been down here before.” I told Fren as I looked down at the small piece of paper that had the address on it. I wandered around the land trying to get my bearings.
Then, I saw it. It was small, and tucked away in thick brush on both sides, the soil around it the most healthy I’ve seen near living quarters, dark red and rich in nutrients.
“Welcome home” Fren said, her arms stretched towards it, looking quite pleased. I smiled at it as well, already attracted to its privacy and quaint belonging.
Slowly approaching the small, but sturdy property, I could see that the structure had a dome-shaped center, with two smaller square rooms attached on each side. I walked inside immediately, quickly discovering that the square extension on the right was a wash room, and the one on the left a bedroom, while the center had a place to prepare food and a small chair with a window to look out of. I didn’t pay much attention to this however, as I was immediately grabbed by what waited behind the building.
It was a labyrinth of gardens. An archway of vines, lavender and gold accenting the refuge, with a path that twisted and turned around empty plots waiting for the finest floral life, and carefully planned raised beds. I stepped off the auburn terrace and followed it. Wood along the structures stood fresh and ready for a purpose, and at the end stood Denon, proud of his carefully executed plan.
Upon the realization that this was all mine, joy overflowed and seeped into places I didn’t know were empty, a gift carrying the power of safety and completion.
