The Triforium Read online

  “Wait a minute,” Butterfield interrupted, “is this another place of twilight — you called it — a threshold between what is and what isn’t?”

  “Precious boy! You are quite right. It is more liminal space. And it’s a natural phenomenon that really doesn’t require an answer for how it works; that is, till some meddler tries to supply one.”

  He sighed and added, “No need for cause-and-effect here. Reasoning is no more than the coarse convention of human ape’s minds. It is clumsy and idiosyncratic and has more to do with language and style than true understanding. I swear that a woolly bear asleep in its cocoon discerns more about the universe than men can grasp with all their facts strung together in tidy succession.”

  The Reverend giggled self-effacingly. “I do warm to that subject. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. But Wally, look about. Can you detect anything?”

  Butterfield ran his eyes up and down the entirety of the little island. Up in the sky were frigate birds and red-footed boobies. But there were many more spirits of frigate birds and boobies roosting in the ghosts of expired trees. Finally, his eyes came back to the stone box the Reverend was sitting next to. At first it looked just like any other primitive container. But then he noted a faint pattern radiating out of it like fractured light through cut glass. Shapes in the light began to move together. As they merged, translucent images of long dead people in ancient dress suddenly stood before him.

  “Great job! I see them too. You’ve just called them up through time. But that’s enough. Let them rest.”

  Wally did and the ghosts vanished into the heavy tropical air.

  “Reverend, what’s this all about? I should be shrieking in fear. I can’t explain why I’m not. I can’t explain any of this, but, strangely, I’m comfortable with everything that has happened. I’ve been kidnapped, almost burned alive, almost had my head cut off, seen more ghosts than could fill a cemetery. I see, smell, and hear things no one else can. I’ve been lied to, especially by you. Yet strangely, I’m not perturbed by all of this. In fact I feel rather good.”

  “First of all Wally, do call me Jae. I’ve asked you to before.”

  “Yes, sorry, Jae, but please tell me what’s going on?”

  “Kiso pa Jae is actually the first name. My full name is Kiso pa Jae Poda-Pirudi. It means shark of Jae and the rest roughly translates into a wild spirit that haunts the reefs and wilderness. But to answer your question, and you may welcome this idea, you are not an architect any more. That is, you won’t have to design another le Mareschal’s Supermarket in order to make a living. You see, you are rapidly changing, the same way I did. That’s why I brought you here. This is where it happened to me.”

  Butterfield shook his head in utter confusion.

  “Give me time Wally. There’s a lot to tell. To start with, I’ve been keeping an eye on you since you were a boy. You are unique. But let me start by filling in some more of my own history. My people moved into these islands a few thousand years after they inhabited Papua New Guinea. I was born in this lagoon shortly after that. As I mentioned, I was a warrior — of some distinction. Back then, it was very much as it is today when it comes to fending for yourself. Of course no one had to go out and get a degree in architecture, but we worked hard tending our gardens and fishing to feed our families. So it was with me. This passage into the lagoon was where I’d frequently come for fish.

  It was here, while I was spear fishing underwater that everything in my life changed. I had many silver trevally on my stringer. There were lots of them about, more than I could possibly eat. Still, I felt driven to keep killing them. I wasn’t paying attention to much around me, except for that school of trevally. Then, as I stabbed yet another fish, I realized that a large school of scalloped hammerheads had moved into the passage. The sharks were being drawn to the fish blood oozing from my stringer and had been circling above me for some time. Suddenly, one spun down and came straight for me and my stringer. This frightened me out of my wits. I fended him off with the point of my spear, while trying to surface at the same time. This meant that I had to come up for air through the other sharks circling above me. I remember how my lungs were aching, I had already held my breath far too long, but there was no safe place to surface. Then two more came down and joined the other one. It was so terrifying that I panicked and sucked in a mouthful of saltwater.

  “I should have died right then, but then I heard this loud popping sound. As soon as this happened, the sharks stopped coming in at me. To my amazement, I found that I was breathing in water, not air, and not dying because of it. And just like you, my senses changed. Oh, by the way, did you see any mantis shrimp when you were down on the bottom of the passage?”

  “Mantis shrimp? I don’t think so. Actually I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a mantis shrimp. Guess I don’t know the names of everything yet.”

  “Oh, no worries. They look like little lobsters but are spotted and have nasty little pincers. You see, the mantis shrimp have sixteen different types of light sensitive cones in their eyes. Butterflies have five. Humans have three, and dogs, just two, but they make up for the color deficiency in their eyes with their superior brains. Nothing in the world can see the variety of light and color as well as a mantis shrimp; that is, except for you and me of course.

  “Dogs have superior brains?”

  “Why of course. Nice stable brains. They domesticated man didn’t they?”

  “No. No. It has to have been the other way around.”

  “So dogs would have you think. That’s how clever they are. Dogs knew that men were out of control and something had to be done. So they befriended them. Dogs taught man how to hunt successfully by working together cooperatively in stalking and circling their prey. They also did some manipulation of the human gene pool. If a hunter was cruel to his dogs, his dog would run off. The man couldn’t hunt well and he would starve to death. The most vicious and least accommodating people perished. Believe it or not, that helped cut down on some of the worst aspects of human behavior. You should have seen people before dogs. What a mess. They civilized man. As I said, dogs like to tinker with genetics. They took man on as sort of a pet project. Oh, sorry about that pun. Where is that Jack Ketch? Sorry. As I was saying, dogs very well may have saved man so they could use him as some kind of genetic beauticians.”

  “Beauticians?”

  “Yes. I strongly suspect that men shape and color dogs to dog’s specifications. But that’s only my theory. Anyhow, not only do you and I have eyes better than a mantis shrimp, we have noses and ears that are far better than a dog’s. That’s pretty good. If I dropped a cup of sugar into the Thames you’d be able to smell it. But even better, like a mole, you’ll smell it in stereo. But I’m getting way off course here. The popping sound was my ghost leaving me.”

  “You mean like with mine? They just can run off like that?”

  “Oh no, only in extraordinary cases like with you and me. And they didn’t run off, we threw them out. But I’ll get to that. When I came out of the water after that shark attack, it took me thousands of years to figure out what happened. I was seemingly indestructible with incredible powers. You know, I did whatever I wanted and, even though my ghost had left me, was still in the habit of taking heads and women. But this frightened my clan. Eventually, they tried to kill me. When that didn’t work, they fled to the mountains. Several hundred years had to pass before some people were brave enough to drift back into the area. And guess what, I was still hanging about this reef. And I was as confused as ever. The only difference was that I was determined to keep on their good side. I really did need the company.

  “So, I took it upon myself to guard this passage against any other headhunters who might like to come through here on a raid and take some of my friend’s heads. I also made sure that the local sharks got the message not to bite any of the local fishermen. It’s strange that th
e people of this lagoon figured out long before I did that the ghost that had inhabited me was that of a hammerhead. How they did that, I’ll never know, but they began to call me Kiso pa Jae Poda-Pirudi, the shark spirit, the spirit that haunts the reef. This relationship worked out for some time, but then the Brotherhood located me.”

  Wallace interrupted him again. “The Melanesian Brotherhood? And what do you mean that your ghost was a hammerhead?”

  “Oh yes, I did mention the Melanesian Brotherhood to you didn’t I. Well, you can forget about that and the bit about me attending the University of the South Pacific and Saint Stephen’s House in Oxford. I’m afraid that it didn’t happen. It’s a different brotherhood that you and I belong to. And we don’t get terribly worked up over an occasional lie. But more about the Brotherhood in a minute, I’m very much hoping that Bradshaw remembered — ah, he did!”

  Reverend Poda-Pirudi reached into the picnic basket and pulled out two lanterns. Then he placed them on the beach next to Butterfield. He rummaged around some more and then pulled out a box of cigars. Smiling with delight, he opened the lid.

  “The Brotherhood has promised to always have a supply of these for me no matter what the anti-tobacconist mob has to say.” He sighed, and then offered Butterfield a Ignatsio Gaudelupe maduro torpedo No.2 cigar. Butterfield shook his head at the offer.

  “Pity. You know they won’t kill you?” He chuckled at his joke as he lit up.

  “Let’s see where was I? Got it. I was telling you about me not knowing about the shark soul. You see, eventually a group of odd-looking chaps with lanterns appeared right here on this beach. They and their clothing were quite uncouth. My, my, did they give me a start. So much so, that I ran off into the bush. However, they managed to first track me down and then calm me down.”

  “I must say Wally that you are doing a much better job of keeping your nerve about this than I did.”

  Butterfield looked doubtful.

  “No. No. It’s true. Anyhow, they proclaimed me as one of them. You see, for some inexplicable reason, on every inhabited planet there is this genetic anomaly. It only happens every so many of tens of thousands of years. Quite peculiar, but a host is born with the wrong soul. In my case my soul was that of a hammerhead. Over time the host rejects it. Expels it the way that we did.

  “But the queer thing is that after that, the host doesn’t die. I mean dry up like some empty skate egg casing and wash up on this beach. From what they’ve told me, the body somehow learns to cope with having a foreign soul in it by generating its own soul. Once this happens the host becomes as immortal as any ghost and much more powerful. The Brotherhood said that it is nature’s way of taking care of things. Well, actually, it is you and I that are in charge of taking care of things. Oh, by the way, thank you, Wally, for showing up. I was getting quite tired of taking care of things. My boy, I guess you have gathered by now that you are my replacement? The new Old Soul in charge of everything?”

  Butterfield had been receiving one successive verbal shock after another during the course of their picnic, but this was too much.

  “No I’m not! No way! I’m not going to move into the Abbey and babysit all of those dead spooks! I don’t know what has happened to me but I’m going to find a nice island of my own and hide until I’ve got this all sorted out. For all I know, I could be strapped into a bed in some insane asylum right now being pumped full of Thorazine. It’s not going to happen!”

  The Reverend listened appreciatively, and when he figured Butterfield had calmed down sufficiently he continued.

  “I’m so sorry, but I regret to tell you that it already has happened. Cheer up Wally, you’ve got control of space and time, and, as far as I know, you can never die.”

  “Well, why am I so lucky?” Butterfield asked sarcastically.

  “Oh, you aren’t. You never can die, though I can’t imagine what would have become of you if I let Hecuba put a torch to you … talking ash I imagine. Anyhow, the dead are the lucky ones. As I said, you can never die but also you can never sleep and never dream. I’m afraid you will look back at your insomnia as the blissful sleep of your youth. And you are in charge of more than the ghosts in the Abbey. You’ve got the whole shebang, everything from the tiniest mites in people’s noses to great whales, fathoms below the surface of the oceans. All have souls and all souls need a shepherd and that shepherd would be you, Wallace Butterfield. Actually I should say Reverend Wallace Butterfield. I know the task sounds daunting. The people alone are a staggering responsibility. There are close to nine billion human hosts inhabiting the earth right now. Six thousand eight hundred and eleven have been born since we started our little chat and two thousand and ten have just expired. Which means that there are two thousand and ten new ghosts. Keeping spirits in the background isn’t always easy either. Ghosts can be such egotists. And of course you are going to have to keep on top of punishing the wicked. What a chore that is.”

  The Reverend stopped, took a long drag from his cigar, and then continued.

  “To tell you the truth, I thought I was going to lose it last century. Over 160 million people died in the wars. And then there was the genocide: Mao Zedong with 78,000,000 people. Joseph Stalin, 20,000,000. Adolph Hitler with 12,000,000. King Leopold the II of Belgium, 8,000,000. Hideki Tojo, 5,000,000. Pol Pot had 1,700,000. Kim Il-sung, 1,600,000.

  “It was like they were competing in an International Olympic event for psychotic dictators. Souls were coming at me fast and furious. You know, if scientists were ever able to extend life forever, I believe that mankind would reject the idea as being too limiting. Human beings are really having a lot of fun knocking one another off! Truly, there was a time, back in the twentieth century that I was convinced that the whole world was going to go up in a series of mushroom clouds. I hate to say it, but, if that had happened, I wouldn’t have to concern myself with any more murdering hosts. There would be this nice static population of spirits to manage. If I could have whipped them into shape, maybe I could have retired. But it didn’t happen.”

  Groaning, the Reverend reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Mopping the sweat off his brow, he continued.

  “You must see by now Wally that man’s great leaps of mental logic are merely the manifestations of the hormonal secretions of an overly developed gland. I mean the brain.”

  Butterfields face went blank.

  “Frontal lobes expanded too fast while filling up with too much dopamine. It gave man the smarts and the drive to develop a wonderful technical advantage over everything, but not the maturity to use this advantage wisely. Oh, how preachy I’m sounding. But then again, I think a preacher is allowed to preach. Anyhow, I’m sure it will be a while before you can retire. Wally, you are just going to have to hang on until the Cosmati Pavement back at the Abbey falls in sync with time, and the world really does come to an end. I could have done a better job when I made it. It’s a bit out of time you know.

  “But Wally, by no means do I want to give you the impression that it is all bad. The skin on this planet is literally coated with seemingly limitless life forms. Each has its own identity, its own soul that glimmers with originality. It’s a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors, twisting together and disentangling — an array of ever-changing patterns — a cosmic skyrocket exploding in a flash of organic geometry. It’s as though creation’s numeric tumblers fall into place. As they align, the fresh mathematical relationship creates a new kind of state. But then the tumblers shift again, realign, and there is a new form of reality and the most elemental properties of matter shift into position. Precious things come and go in a succession of cognitive awareness. All states seem to be possible within this kaleidoscope, both living and dead. Wally, it’s wonderful!

  “Oh, I’m sorry. It almost slipped my mind.” Reverend Poda-Pirudi rose to his feet and reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the purple poison b
ottle embossed with W. O. Smith Chemist, Titchfield.

  “Speaking of souls, it’s time to release this one.” The Reverend tossed the bottle into Jae Passage.

  Butterfield jumped to his feet. “Hey that’s my soul!”

  “No, Wally, it was never your soul. Don’t worry, the cork will eventually rot away and then your ex-ghost will get loose and swim amongst the plankton till it eventually grows inside a host and becomes the creature it was meant to be.”

  This idea intrigued Butterfield. “Was it meant to be in a hammerhead like yours?”

  “Ah no. Not quite.”

  “What then?”

  “I’m afraid that your soul was meant for a mud crab. They’re very cannibalistic. Love to eat one another, especially when molting. Explains a lot doesn’t it?”

  Butterfield was a bit crestfallen. He had hoped that he had been sharing quarters with a giant manta ray or a killer whale, not such a puny creature as a mud crab. He had had the soul of an intertidal muck dweller.

  “Sorry, but you are rid of him now, and I have to be off.”

  “Off where?” Wallace was on the verge of panic.

  “Some place out on the edge of the universe called the Eridanus Supervoid. Ever hear of it?”

  Butterfield shook his head.

  “Well, it must be my version of the mantis shrimp because I’ve never heard of it either. But the Brotherhood has. It’s the coldest spot in the universe. Over a billion light years in diameter and contains nothing. Someone in the Brotherhood has gotten this bright idea that God might be out there and I’m supposed to go find him. But don’t concern yourself Wally. You’ll do just fine and I’ll be back. Oh yes, almost forgot. I have a gift for you.”

  Reverend Poda-Pirudi reached down and picked up the two lanterns and handed one to Wallace.

  “It’s just like mine. Play around with it. You will soon find that you can do incredible things with it. But, as I said, I really must be off.”