WOLF DAWN: Science Fiction Thriller/ Romance (Forsaken Worlds) Page 35

  Everyone laughed loudly. Caleb, at age twenty-three, was known to be a young man with a surplus of passion. Jeeha knew that sex was not everything, by any means. But to consistently repress one’s sexuality would inhibit creative impulse and deny self-expression, joy and life. It would be an insult to the soul. Temple teachings held that love and sexuality were crucial to physical, mental, emotional, professional and spiritual fulfillment. Students over eighteen spent much course time engaging in this study, and Caleb was a particularly devoted student.

  A stocky, muscular young woman stood. “Yes, Renee?” Jeeha asked.

  Renee smiled. “I am a pragmatic sort of person, and common sense has been one of my better attributes. I want to excel at the things that are important to me. I study cooking as an art. This gives me pleasure and also gives pleasure to others. I feel my profession in Icom program management is also an art form, a creative way to achieve my goals. I tend to think of sex in the same creative artistic manner. Why not be good at it? Why not study it as a natural matter of course, like any other subject, again to give myself pleasure and pleasure to another?” She sat back down.

  The man next to her gave her a considering look and said in a way that was not entirely joking: “I’d be honored to help you in your studies.”

  Everyone laughed again. Renee said, “I have a partner that I study with already, thank you. Further, it is more than sexual practice. It is love. In short: I am taken. Find someone else.”

  Snorts, giggles and laughter from the happy students started up once more.

  Jeeha smiled. “Ah, love. Too vast a topic for us today, I am afraid. Let us continue on the subject of sex. Do you think that moral codes are formed on whim? Or do you imagine that there may be reasons for them that become distorted over time? Please discuss this amongst yourselves and then we will return to open forum.” The room broke into little conversational groups and eventually quieted.

  A young woman rose to her feet. “Our general consensus is that in most cases such moral codes often begin validly and become distorted from the original concept. For example, in the past it would have been important to prevent pregnancy, or prevent the acquisition of a sexually transmitted disease. Abstinence would be a logical way to avert such problems and the moral codes of the time reflect this. In our time one only becomes pregnant when one desires to have a child. Sexually transmitted diseases are nonexistent. Historically, to equate unmarried sex with sin would have been a good idea. That is to say, it would increase the long-term survival of humankind.” She gracefully returned to the carpet, crossing her legs.

  Jeeha nodded.

  “What do you think? Again, please discuss the subject amongst yourself.” The group did so, and once more quieted.

  A young woman stood, and looked expectantly at Jeeha.

  “Yes, Mari?”

  Mari had only been studying the Temple for two months, having arrived from a country area. The Damithst stone had reacted brightly to her, but she had declined becoming a Sister. She was of Asian heritage, one hundred and forty centimeters — well under five-foot, of delicate form and features, with smooth dark skin, and long, dark hair.

  “Sister,” she asked in a clear soft voice, “I have been wondering. It is agreed that the art of sex is important in Temple beliefs, is in fact vital to human growth, yes?”

  “Assuredly.”

  “And such growth is good, and to deny one’s nature is wrong, yes?”

  “That is as we believe. You are welcome to choose your own path, of course.”

  “Can you tell me, then, why is the Temple Prefect chaste?”

  Jeeha reacted instantly, laughing and clapping with pleasure. The rest of the students were surprised into silence. “Oh, well done, Mari! Please sit down. I will come back to you. Who here has had this same thought? Anyone?”

  The silence was complete. After a long moment, one girl stood and offered, “I had a fleeting thought, about how it was odd; but honestly, I just didn’t think to question it. It was Temple business.”

  Jeeha nodded. “Thank you. If I understand you correctly, you noticed but then quickly forgot about the anomaly because you trust the Temple and the Temple Sisters and you feel that we know what we are doing, perhaps?”

  “Just so, Second Prefect.”

  “Excellent. Anyone else?”

  A light-brown-haired man of about thirty stood self-consciously. He said, “I wondered about it. My thought was more than, ah … fleeting.”

  Jeeha said, “Very good, Dean. Now, this is important. Please close your eyes and tell me, try to recall. When did you have this thought?”

  Eyes shut, he took a moment to consider, and said, “About a year ago.”

  “Can you recall what you were doing then and why this thought came to you?”

  “I was taking a watercolor lesson with the Prefect, the Lady Lindha. I was distracted, watching her, noticing how vital and alive she was, and I wondered … well, I imagined what it would be like to bed her. Then I remembered that she was chaste, and I thought that was such a shame. But then I felt guilty about thinking about it, because she was a maiden for spiritual reasons and above such things. I forgot about it then. I completely forgot about it until you mentioned it just now.”

  Jeeha smiled broadly. “Perfect. Dean, I thank you for your exceptional recall and faultless honesty. Now everyone, do you see what is happening here? We at the Temple do not practice what we teach! Our Temple leader remains untouched. How can this be? But even more importantly, why does no one question this aberrant behavior? Dean has given one answer. He was acute enough to observe the oddity, yet can you see how feelings of guilt made him stop all inquiry?”

  She hooted and clapped her hands again. “Oh, Dean. Such a perfect example. I thank you again. The emotion of guilt has been used since the beginning of time by people in positions of power. If one is focused on one’s own failings, one does not look and one cannot see. The individual can feel at fault for simply having a negative observation and asking a question. Can you appreciate what this means?”

  She considered the interested expressions in her audience and added, “Questioning those in authority can be the most difficult of all. It is taxing for a person to look and even more challenging to actually see. This problem becomes virtually impossible when one likes the people or institution in question and wants to believe in their perfection. But your blindness has been stripped away for the present. Can you all now see what has been right there in front of you all this time?”

  She nodded to Mari, who stood. “Young woman, I will answer your question. It is a ruling of our order that the Prefect remains chaste for the twelve years of her tenure. I am afraid that I, too, believe it to be unhealthy and quite wrong. It happens because of a sacred vow. A seer from the past has laid this burden upon us, and faithful to it we must remain until a certain prophecy is fulfilled. No more can I say. It was a genuine pleasure for me to be questioned on this matter, thank you.”

  Jeeha scanned the group. Every face was turned toward her, interested, wanting more — except for the Trueborn. Was he thoughtful? Or brooding? Either way, it was time to finish. “We shall continue this most fruitful forum tomorrow. I am here for another half hour if anyone needs to see me. Please, all of you, know this: In this world there is nothing that should not or cannot be viewed, looked at, questioned and discussed. Nothing.”

  The students clapped and rose, then trailed out for midday meal. Jeeha was alone when Dorian, who had been well hidden behind a plant and a thick curtain, suddenly appeared behind her.

  “By the Goddess Dorian! What are you doing?” Jeeha said, jumping in surprise. She took a calming breath, marveling at her reaction. What was it about this strange boy? Why did Dorian at times frighten her?

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “You know you’re not supposed to be here,” Jeeha admonished, annoyed at finding him listening in to a class out of bounds to those under eighteen. Dorian, at thirteen, was an exceptionally dev
ious child. He seemed to be aware of everything that went on at the Temple.

  “I was searching Icom about male circumcision,” he said, and unaccountably blushed. “Anyway, it appears to me that the reason that people practiced it was because they lived in a desert back then. Perhaps sand, combined with a lack of water for cleansing, caused problems. They might have figured out that if men were circumcised it would prevent infections. I thought maybe that was how the cultural acceptance started, so it once was a normal thing to do.”

  Jeeha smiled. The Temple maintained that there was no monopoly on understanding. Genius struck unexpectedly and took many forms. Dorian, an intelligent child, was an example of that. She said, “An astute observation, Dorian. I think you’ll find a definitive answer if you research under cultural strings. Shall I forward you a list of suggestions?” If he could ask the question, he also had the ability to answer it.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She nodded. “Is there anything else?”

  “No, that’s all.”

  “Good. You should be somewhere, I suspect. At work, perhaps?”

  Dorian gave her a charming boyish grin and his green eyes flashed. “I’m going,” he said and left.

  Jeeha wondered what had caused Dorian’s question. She knew of no one who had actually been circumcised. It wasn’t practiced anymore on any world that she was aware of. He had been interfered with as a child and no doubt that is where he had seen a circumcised man. He would have been a backward, ignorant man, brought up by backward, ignorant people. A momentary flare of anguish rose up within her, on Dorian’s behalf, for such subjection and destruction of his will.

  Jeeha bit her lower lip and wondered what was behind Dorian’s practiced charm, for there was definitely something dark about the boy. Childhood abuse had damaged him in some unseen, unknown way. Never mind. With time, Jeeha felt certain that Dorian would fully recover.

  26. Encoding

  Software Theory can be summed up thus: Humans act according to their programming — responses and interactions are automatic and culturally conditioned. There are few self-aware, conscious people as most humans are not there at all. Infrequently in this universe does one actual person interact with another actual person.

  — Icompedia, Prof. A.R.C. Real People

  “Catch!”

  Ash turned just in time to catch a cabbage thrown his way.

  Dorian gave him an irreverent laugh. “You’re like a cat, always landing on your feet. If I had thrown that at Anton it would have landed dead center on the back of his head.” He moved out from behind the trellis-work, where he had been hiding.

  Ash gave him a wicked grin that intentionally projected subtle menace. “You’re going to have to pay for that, Dorian. I’m going to count to three, then I’m coming for you.”

  The two friends had been for a walk in the Temple gardens. Dorian, to all appearances a boisterous, irreverent prankster, was actually a dark and secretive soul. No one really knew him at all as he was quick to respond to all personal queries with deflection or humor. Dorian had serious trust issues.

  At Ash’s threat, thirteen-year-old Dorian gave a high-pitched adolescent scream and started running. Ash counted and then began to chase him down. Dorian wove in and out through hedges, flowering plants and gravel paths, leaping through a pergola and past a number of statues and fountains.

  Ash let him run for a while, but caught him easily, taking him to the ground and pinning his arms with his knees. He then set about tickling him. Dorian couldn’t stop laughing, but his laughter had a brittle edge.

  Ash noticed the change in tone and immediately let him up. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. Ash didn’t need mind-touch to sense what Dorian was feeling.

  “What?”

  “You were afraid of me, Dorian.”

  “Well, duh. You’re bigger and stronger than me.”

  Ash walked to a nearby bench that was placed under a deep blue Bay tree. He tilted his head, studying Dorian for a moment. Then he sat down, hands relaxed on his thighs, and waited. The air was warm and made fragrant by a nearby trellis covered in blooming pink and brown toffee vines. A number of tiny red-beaked, yellow wrens darted in and out of the vines and bushes, calling softly to each other. A stream flowed along a white stone path beside him. Ash contemplated the clear, jade green waters, lost in thought.

  The change in Dorian’s demeanor was striking. Dorian was anxious, preoccupied, distracted and afraid. His features had a dark countenance: It was the Dark Sankomin. Dorian could not be present here and now, not around men, and certainly not with men touching him. While Dorian was alone with Ash, consciously or unconsciously Dorian had one or more of the men he had previously known with him right now, solidly dammed in the river of his mind. Ash knew he would someday go mad from the Dark Sankomin, but at least Dorian wasn’t Delian and no such fate awaited him. Still, Ash wanted to help the boy. But how?

  After a while Dorian sat beside Ash, not close enough to touch. They both lounged quietly for a few minutes while Ash waited for Dorian to regain his composure.

  Ash took his time. Talking might help, but it would be difficult to get Dorian to be here and honestly communicate. Dorian’s defensive programming had already kicked in. He would brush Ash off. He had brushed him off already with the “you’re bigger than me” comment. Ash agreed with “Software Theory.” It was exceptional for an actual person to interact with another actual person.

  He would have to shock the truth out of Dorian. Surprise him into reacting to the moment: into being here now, with him.

  After measuring and sifting his words, Ash said calmly, “I was thirteen when I had unwanted sex, Dorian, five years older than you were.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “True story, Dorian. Messed me up for a long, long time. I felt like a bad person, soiled and guilty. I suspect you may be going through some of that yourself. Have you ever talked about it with anyone?”

  “No.”

  “How about with Anton?”

  “No.”

  Ash looked at him doubtfully.

  “What for? We were both there. We know what happened.”

  They sat together in silence. Ash thought that when it came to relationships with men or sexual situations, the twins would eternally be in danger of the Dark Sankomin. Talking would help, but it wasn’t the same. Both boys would find their experiences difficult to talk about. They would hide and deny the most painful events from others, and even from themselves as Ash had. They needed the healing power of mind-touch, except Ash didn’t feel capable of giving it to him. Dorian was too young, Ash too inexperienced. Further, Ash was male. How could either of the boys be willing to trust men while stuck in those past betrayals by men? No. Ash didn’t want to make things worse.

  “If you ever want to talk about it you can talk to me.”

  Dorian swallowed. He gave a jerky nod with a nervous chin.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  Both young men sat perfectly still, a thick tension surrounding them.

  More silence; this time it was a sullen, uncomfortable silence.

  Finally Dorian asked, “Who did you have sex with?”

  “My mother.”

  “Ewww!”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “That is so wrong.”

  “You know what was worst of all?” Ash asked.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t want to, honestly. But I kind of got into it, and in the end I enjoyed it. That was the worst. I felt pretty bad about enjoying such an unnatural act.”

  Dorian nodded and was quiet for a moment. He looked at Ash, and then looked away. Shifted his body, shifted his feet and cleared his throat. Then he looked up and looked away again. This tense uncomfortable behavior went on for some minutes.

  Ash remained silent and still, watching him without expression. Dorian’s mouth opened, shut … then opened and shut again. He could see that Dorian wan
ted to tell him something and Ash wanted to hear it. Long Fang had taught him well: Ash was a patient hunter. Many times he had waited perfectly still all day for game to come out of hiding. Dorian would talk. It was obvious to Ash that the boy had a number of burdens, dark secrets that were weighing him down. Ash was content to share the load.

  Eventually Dorian drew a shaky breath and said, “I was kind of curious at first. I didn’t like it either, but sometimes it felt good for me, too.” He paused for a bit, gazing down at his hands. After some long minutes, with an uncomfortable and timid expression, he looked up at Ash, his eyes searching for Ash’s reaction.

  Ash’s face remained politely interested. He was not shocked. His face was quite impassive. Ash had been careful to have no visible response one way or another to Dorian’s disclosure.

  Dorian shook his head. “So disgusting. I hated myself for that.”

  Ash remained quiet. Dorian looked up once more. Ash smiled sardonically at him and said, “Welcome to the wonders of the male body.”

  “Tell me about it,” Dorian agreed.

  Ash nodded sympathetically. He understood.

  Dorian’s tense posture relaxed slightly. Now that the subject was broached, he seemed to be able to keep speaking. It was as if a dam had broken. His face colored and Dorian said, all at once in a rush, “The men … well, a lot of times it really hurt and then when it hurt, I was glad when Anton was getting it rather than me. I didn’t like it, especially when it hurt. I felt bad about that, too.”

  Ash drew in a deep breath and shook his head. “Wow. Real mental and moral dilemma there: protect your twin brother from pain or protect yourself. Talk about lose-lose. Was it always with men, Dorian?” Ash asked.

  “Always.”

  “Do you prefer men?”

  “No way!”

  “Just asking. Doesn’t matter either way to me.” He was quiet for a bit. “I was thinking that you and Anton should train in self defense.”

  “Neat.”