Alex Luthecker collapsed onto his bed, exhausted. He looked over at Nikki lying beside him; she was already fast asleep. He wished he could follow her into deep slumber, but he knew it would never happen.
Despite the level of fatigue created by both recent travel and events, sleep would prove to be difficult for him. Alex rarely slept well even under the best of circumstances, and with all that had happened in Mexico and the events leading up to the confrontation with the Calderon Cartel hijackers, he knew there would be no rest for him tonight.
I was too late, was the only thing running through his mind as he turned away from the dozing Nikki and stared at the ceiling. Alex and Nikki’s arrival in Mexico to meet with Yaw, Chris, and Camilla had been delayed.
Their flight from India through Europe with alternate IDs had gone smoothly enough, but when they arrived in Mexico, their passports had been briefly held. Both Nikki and Alex were being tracked by Coalition surveillance, and their facial profiles were in the system, but Nikki’s software algorithm PHOEBE had always been one step ahead of electronic surveillance, intercepting recognition or anomaly with their identities and negating it before it reached Coalition servers. The delay in Mexico had been caused by something else entirely, and Alex had read it immediately—there was no electronic intercept or Coalition Properties screening attempt; it was the matter of a simple bribe.
Instead of manipulating the situation and costing more time, Alex and Nikki simply paid the rogue customs official off and were on their way. The delay at the airport was only twenty minutes, but that caused them to miss their bus, which delayed them further, causing their arrival at the train stop to happen after the cartel soldiers had kidnapped the migrants, forcing Yaw, Camilla, and Chris to intervene without he and Nikki.
And it was because of this that Alex was late to the mission hall where a sixteen-year-old boy had been killed, along with a handful of others. If he had arrived sooner, he might have been able to stop it from happening.
The death of Enrique upset Alex a great deal, but what caused Alex even greater concern was the boy’s sister, a ten-year-old girl named Maria—and the fact that he could not make sense of the patterns that formed her destiny.
Her choices and mannerisms were chaotic and massive in number, as though her behavior had yet to anchor to a belief structure. It was as if Maria’s ability to choose was free of influence, a wide-open and pure psychological configuration—more like an infant than a ten-year old girl. No doubt, that would change now, with the murder of her brother. It was clear that the young girl’s thoughts were currently clouded by rage.
But it was when Maria spoke that Alex realized there was more at play here. Maria’s way of perceiving events was highly detailed and well organized, and not just beyond the ability of a ten year old, but beyond the ability of a normal adult. In many ways, it reminded Alex of how he himself had analyzed events in his own youth.
He sensed that Maria was gifted, but his inability to make sense of the chaos that surrounded her made it impossible for him to perceive exactly how gifted. And to make matters more difficult, Maria had refused to speak with anyone after they left Mexico.
Alex could sense that Maria trusted her instincts more than she trusted people, and it was Maria’s instincts and situational awareness that was behind her choice to come to America with Alex and the family, not an inherent trust of Yaw, Camilla, or himself. Alex understood that they would have to earn her trust before she would open up to the family. Maria did remind Alex of himself at that age, but there were distinct differences.
When Alex was Maria’s age, he was awkward, and he lived in reactive isolation from others. He felt guilty about being different. There was no guilt in Maria’s reaction to the world, only unbridled anger. Alex may not be able to read the young girl’s destiny, but he knew one thing for sure—he had to help Maria manage her anger; otherwise, it was inevitable that she would lash out at the world. And in order to help her, he had to find out exactly how gifted the young girl was. And in order to do that, he had to get her to open up to him.
Since Alex couldn’t read Maria, he had to find other ways to get her to communicate. She was now part of the family, and as head of the family, Alex would see to it that Maria had everything she needed. Normally, Alex would read the patterns of a stranger’s fate and help them see the truth about the cause and effect of their choices. But that was impossible with Maria, at least for the time being. This left Alex without a plan or approach.
And not having any parenting skills or experience with children, Alex Luthecker simply did not know how to help a justifiably angry ten-year-old girl, a girl who refused to speak and whose patterns of behavior he couldn’t make sense of.
But at the moment there was a more pressing concern for Alex, something that had been troubling him long before his encounter with Maria. His insight, his ability to read patterns in others, was fading. Simply put he was forgetting things, the intricate details that allowed him to distinguish complex patterns over longer timelines, the patterns that allowed him to assess accurately direction and destiny.
Things began to change with Alex’s perception shortly after Winn Germaine’s funeral in Los Angeles six months ago, but he had told no one at the time. Not even Nikki.
It had started with the simple and mundane—dates and times of events he had committed to. Not a source of alarm for the average individual but quite disturbing for someone with Alex’s senses. Then the fading of details bled over and marred his ability to read the origin behind historical objects and places.
Normally, Alex could look at an historical building and—based on its designs, construction material, and countless other details lost to the average individual—know the building’s origins and often events of note that had taken place there in the past. Such were the extrapolative abilities of Alex’s flawless memory. And the history of manmade structures was something that usually came easy for Alex—something that was far easier than reading people. But now he was becoming less sure of the details and, therefore, less sure of himself.
The death of his mentor had hit Alex hard, but his friends Yaw, Chris, Camilla, and now Masha, the Russian woman who accompanied his crew home from Trans Dniester, had been supportive. And of course there was Nikki. She had remained at his side throughout his mourning period, and when Alex decided that he wanted to visit Kunchin, the Buddhist monk in Tibet who had helped him in the past, it was important to Alex that Nikki meet him.
Nikki’s computer prowess and PHOEBE had made alternative identities and travel arrangements that would go unnoticed by the Coalition relatively easy. So with Yaw and Camilla in charge of both the courier business and training regiment left by Winn, Alex and Nikki once again set off for the Potala Palace in Tibet.
Alex promised his friends he would be back in a month. He hoped that Kunchin would be able to answer his questions. He hoped that the old Monk, with abilities similar to his own, could tell Alex, whose photographic memory had proven nearly infallible in the past, why he was beginning to forget things…
“He has been expecting you,” Chodak, the Buddhist monk and Potala Palace guide said to Alex and Nikki as they entered the enormous monastery in Lhasa. “He knows that you will have many questions.”
Choden, Chodak’s brother, smiled and nodded to both Nikki and Alex, pointing the way.
“This place is beautiful,” Nikki said to Alex, awe in her voice as they made their way through the hand-painted, Sutra-covered hallways and past the golden statues that filled the multiple prayer rooms in the temple, often with only candles lighting the way.
The Byzantine array of halls, temples, libraries, galleries, and narrow hallways were dizzying.
“You’re sure you can find our way back, right?” Nikki whispered to Alex.
Alex smiled. “I’ll do my best,” he answered. “And besides, we have them.” Alex pointed to the brothers, Chodak and Choden, as they scurried through the hallway ahead.
“Is Kunchin in some sort of throne room?
“No. Underneath all of this beauty,” Alex began, “is just a cave.”
“Fear is the enemy,” Kunchin said. “It is always the enemy,” the eighty-year old monk continued as he stoked the fire of the wood stove at the center of the Dharma King Cave.
Nikki’s jaw was on the floor. Underneath the enormity of the Potala Palace, which was the world’s largest and richest Buddhist monastery, was nothing but a simple cave, with smooth, uneven walls carved into the rock, and holes in the stone decorated with small statues and Buddhist carvings.
In the center of it all was a metal folding chair across from a small cast-iron stove, with a small elderly man in its attendance.
“Fear has the ability to rearrange events,” Kunchin continued as he stoked the fire one last time. “Fear has the ability to rewrite the past. It has the ability to alter the entire timeline—past, present, and future,” the old Monk continued.
Satisfied with the glow of embers, he used a metal poker to shut the small door of the stove.
He then turned to both Alex and Nikki. “But so does love. The choice between the two is yours to make.”
“I’m starting to…forget things,” Alex said to the Monk. “In my memory. Some of the details go missing. In the stories I see in others.”
Nikki looked at Alex in shock. He had never said a word of this to her. Never even hinted at it.
“This is not unexpected,” the elderly monk answered Alex. “This is the challenge of the universe, to stay resolute. This is why things must always renew. This is why all we do is clear the path for those who follow. It is the very purpose of the impermanence of all things.”
Kunchin turned his attention to Nikki a moment, eyes locking with hers, before looking back to Alex. “It’s the suffering caused by fear that affects you.”
“But I’m not afraid.”
“Perhaps, but most of the world still is. And as one who sees the patterns of this world, it is impossible to remain unaffected by that burden.” Kunchin steadied himself against the rock wall before continuing. “The suffering caused by fear is relentless. The human condition is not. Without discipline and rigorous practice, we soon become inseparable from the influence of our surroundings. And if those surroundings are filled with suffering and fear, the soul detaches from reality. It creates its own narrative. It forgets things by design in order to survive. That is the exhaustive power of fear. Fear consumes much and gives nothing in return. It suppresses the memory and makes destiny seem chaotic, and not the result of cause and effect. That is why fear is the root of all suffering.”
“Is that why you live in a cave? To isolate yourself from a fearful world?”
For the first time, Kunchin smiled. It was a near toothless smile. “In my time, I did what was asked of me. No different than you are doing now. But I am not as strong as you. Nor am I as gifted. But in my time, it was enough. Your time requires your strength and your gifts. And the next generation will require greater strength and gifts than yours. The universe always provides balance.”
“I don’t feel very strong. Or very gifted.”
“Again, choice. When you first went to Mawith in the desert, you ran from your responsibility to others. Then you learned to love. And you no longer ran. When you came to me, you ran from yourself. Then you learned about selflessness. And then you no longer ran from your own power. Your recent travels and losses had much to show you about Karma, did they not?”
“I lost my best friend.”
“And in that pain you let fear encroach. But did he not show you the power of love over fear? Did he not show you the power of choice? Of selflessness defined by his connection to others? Of the recognition and acceptance of Karma? Do you not fight on, with what he started, in his name? In you, is not the battle renewed?”
“But it just doesn’t end. The suffering,” Alex, said, exasperated. He looked at the old man. He took note that the monk labored to breathe. The man’s posture and frail movements alone showed Alex that Kunchin did not have long in this world. Still, the old man’s eyes remained bright and clear.
“And this is why you forget. You are not a moral compass for the entire world at once, Alex, you are only a compass for those you meet, in the time that you meet them. You have been put here to guide, but only for a short time. You allow people to choose. And over time, others will provide a compass, with the hope being that in the end, all will choose. And how do you know the suffering does not end? Not even you can see that far.”
“I don’t…I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“And yet you fear losing the ability to see. Do you understand the purpose of the paradox?”
“No.”
“Those best suited for power are by design ill at ease with such power. In a universe designed by balance, it is the only way that it can be. You’ve seen the opposite of that, have you not? Those who lust for power are most often the least deserving. It is the acceptance of your paradox that is your final burden.”
“But what do I do?”
“Stay in the moment, and trust your training, then, there is nothing to remember. There are only events to observe. Events are cyclical. They transcend the definition of time and create “Samsara” in the old definitions, or “patterns,” as you have called them. This realization must be done, again and again, generation after generation, until all are enlightened. Do you not yet see that it is the cycle itself that gives you your power? The need for balance created you, and thus you were created. Only when one is given the ability to choose, can one break Samsara. But it is still a choice. Once you accept this, your memory will not falter. Only then, can you go back to the beginning.”
“Go back to the beginning?”
“Rest your warrior’s sword and become a farmer.”
“A farmer? I’m not a farmer. I never have been. That’s not me.”
“But it is.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What does a farmer do? A farmer plants seeds and tends to them. A farmer understands that he is part of the cycle of life, and not separate from it. And he is certainly not above it. Do not stop planting seeds, Alex, wherever you go. Do not stop tending to them. Make everyone you meet see his or her true self. That is your gift. Plant these seeds and nurture them. And before long, a beautiful garden will grow, one that can be tended to by new gardeners for generations to come.
“And when things seem hopeless, when you must overcome those who would challenge your cause, remember it is in the effort to help others that we save ourselves. It is the effort that is handed down from one generation to the next. It is the effort that binds us. That is why you cannot and will not fail, no matter how much seems lost. In the end, it is these efforts in totality that create the momentum.”
“That doesn’t help me remember the things I’ve forgotten.”
“Once again, choice. And when your time is done, there will be another. In your heart, you know this already. That is also part of the momentum. This is all that I have for you. But then that is not the only reason why you are really here. You are also here because of her.” Kunchin then turned his attention back to Nikki.
The abrupt turn of energy in her direction made her take a step back.
“And you. Do you understand why you are here?” Kunchin asked her.
“What? Me? No, I…” Nikki felt her face get hot.
“It is not for you to simply meet an old monk, or for you to bear witness to your lover’s journey. It is no accident that you and Alex have become one. You’ve felt it in your heart from the moment he interrupted the patterns of your destiny and allowed you to see new choices.
“You are not here for him today. You are a mystic as well, but one of a different world. A new world. And you’ve unleashed something in that world that will affect this one, something far more powerful than any of the old magic or religion. Something far more powerful than anything that either Alex or I can do. And it will take what you both bring to this world to guide it. Guided correctly, it will elevate mankind. Incorrectly, it will be the end for us all.”