Lord of Light(49)

"Why did he not take poison if he wished to die?" Brahma had asked. "It would be easier to conceal a pill than that box."

"It is barely possible," said one of the Lords of Karma, "that somewhere in the world he had another body, and that he sought to transmigrate by means of a broadcast unit, which was set to destroy itself after use."

"Could this thing be done?"

"No, of course not. Transfer equipment is bulky and complicated. But Yama boasted he could do anything. He once tried to convince me that such a device could be built. But the contact between the two bodies must be direct and by means of many leads and cables. And no unit that tiny could have generated sufficient power."

"Who built you the psych-probe?" asked Brahma.

"Lord Yama."

"And Shiva, the thunder chariot? And Agni, the fire wand? Rudra, his terrible bow? The Trident? The Bright Spear?"

"Yama."

"I should like to advise you then, that at approximately the same time as that tiny box must have been operating, a great generator, as of its own accord, turned itself on within the Vasty Hall of Death. It functioned for less than five minutes, and then turned itself off again."

"Broadcast power?"

Brahma shrugged.

"It is time to sentence Sam."

This was done. And since he had died once before, without much effect, it was decided that a sentence of death was not in order.

Accordingly, he was transmigrated. Not into another body.

A radio tower was erected, Sam was placed under sedation, transfer leads were attached in the proper manner, but there was no other body. They were attached to the tower's converter.

His atman was projected upward through the opened dome, into the great magnetic cloud that circled the entire planet and was called the Bridge of the Gods.

Then he was given the unique distinction of receiving a second funeral in Heaven. Lord Yama received his first; and Brahma, watching the smoke arise from the pyres, wondered where he really was.

"The Buddha has gone to nirvana," said Brahma. "Preach it in the Temples! Sing it in the streets'. Glorious was his passing! He has reformed the old religion, and we are better now than ever before! Let all who would think otherwise remember Keenset!"

This thing was done also.

But they never found Lord Kubera.

The demons were free.

Nirriti was strong.

And elsewhere in the world there were those who remembered bifocal glasses and toilets that flushed, petroleum chemistry and internal combustion engines, and the day the sun had hidden its face from the justice of Heaven.

Vishnu was heard to say that the wilderness had come into the City at last.





VII





The world is a fire of sacrifice, the sun its fuel, sunbeams its smoke, the day its flames, the points of the compass its cinders and sparks. In this fire the gods offer faith as libation. Out of this offering King Moon is born.

Rain, oh Gautama, is the fire, the year its fuel, the clouds its smoke, the lightning its flame, cinders, sparks. In this fire the gods offer King Moon as libation. Out of this offering the rain is born.

The world, oh Gautama, is the fire, the earth its fuel, fire its smoke, the night its flame, the moon its cinders, the stars its sparks. In this fire the gods offer rain as libation. Out of this offering food is produced.

Man, oh Gautama, is the fire, his open mouth its fuel, his breath its smoke, his speech its flame, his eye its cinders, his ear its sparks. In this fire the gods offer food as libation. Out of this offering the power of generation is born.   





 

Woman, oh Gautama, is the fire, her form its fuel, her hair its smoke, her organs its flame, her pleasures its cinders and its sparks. In this flame the gods offer the power of generation as libation. Out of this offering a man is born. He lives for so long as he is to live.

When a man dies, he is carried to be offered in the fire. The fire becomes his fire, the fuel his fuel, the smoke his smoke, the flame his flame, the cinders his cinders, the sparks his sparks. In this fire the gods offer the man as libation. Out of this offering the man emerges in radiant splendor.

Brihadaranyaka Upanishad (VI, ii, 9-14)



Another name by which he is sometimes called is Maitreya, meaning Lord of Light. After his return from the Golden Cloud, he journeyed to the Palace of Kama at Khaipur, where he planned and built his strength against the Day of the Yuga. A sage once said that one never sees the Day of the Yuga, but only knows it when it is past. For it dawns like any other day and passes in the same wise, recapitulating the history of the world.

He is sometimes called Maitreya, meaning Lord of Light. . .



In a high, blue palace of slender spires and filigreed gates, where the tang of salt sea spray and the crying of sea-wights came across the bright air to season the senses with life and delight. Lord Nirriti the Black spoke with the man who had been brought to him.

"Sea captain, what is your name?" he asked.

"Olvagga, Lord," answered the captain. "Why did you kill my crew and let me live?"

"Because I would question you, Captain Olvagga."

"Regarding what?"

"Many things. Things such as an old sea captain might know, through his travels. How stands my control of the southern sea lanes?"

"Stronger than I thought, or you'd not have me here."

"Many others are afraid to venture out, are they not?"

"Yes."

Nirriti moved to a window overlooking the sea. He turned his back upon his captive. After a time, he spoke again:

"I hear there has been much scientific progress in the north since, oh, the battle of Keenset."

"I, too, have heard this. Also, I know it to be true. I have seen a steam engine. The printing press is now a part of life. Dead slizzard legs are made to jump with galvanic currents. A better grade of steel is now being forged. The microscope and the telescope have been rediscovered."

Nirriti turned back to him, and they studied one another.

Nirriti was a small man, with a twinkling eye, a facile smile, dark hair, restrained by a silver band, an upturned nose and eyes the color of his palace. He wore black and lacked a suntan.

"Why do the Gods of the City fail to stop this thing?"

"I feel it is because they are weakened, if that is what you want to hear, Lord. Since the disaster by the Vedra they have been somewhat afraid to squelch the progress of mechanism with violence. It has also been said that there is internal strife in the City, between the demigods and what remains of their elders. Then there is the matter of the new religion. Men no longer fear Heaven so much as they used to. They are more willing to defend themselves; and now that they are better equipped, the gods are less willing to face them."

"Then Sam is winning. Across the years, he is beating them."

"Yes, Renfrew. I feel this to be true."

Nirriti glanced at the two guards who flanked Olvagga.

"Leave," he ordered. Then, when they had gone,

"You know me?"

"Yes, chaplin. For I am Jan Olvegg, captain of the Star of India."

"Olvegg. That seems moderately impossible."

"True, nevertheless. I received this now ancient body the day Sam broke the Lords of Karma at Mahartha. I was there."

"One of the First, and-yes!-a Christian!"

"Occasionally, when I run out of Hindi swear words."

Nirriti placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then your very being must ache at this blasphemy they have wrought!"

"I'm none too fond of them-nor they of me."

"I daresay. But of Sam-he did the same thing-compounding this plurality of heresies-burying the true Word even deeper . . ."

"A weapon, Renfrew," said Olvegg. "Nothing more. I'm sure he didn't want to be a god any more than you or I."

"Perhaps. But I wish he had chosen a different weapon. If he wins their souls are still lost."

Olvegg shrugged. "I'm no theologian, such as yourself . . ."

"But will you help me? Over the ages I have built up a mighty force. I have men and I have machines. You say our enemies are weakened. My soulless ones-born not of man or woman-they are without fear. I have sky gondolas-many. I can reach their City at the Pole. I can destroy their Temples here in the world. I think the time is at hand to cleanse the world of this abomination. The true faith must come again! Soon! It must be soon . . ."   





 

"As I said, I'm no theologian. But I, too, would see the City fall," said Olvegg. "I will help you, in any way I can."

"Then we will take a few of their cities and defile their Temples, to see what action this provokes."

Olvegg nodded.

"You will advise me. You will provide moral support," said Nirriti, and bowed his head.

"Join me in prayer," he ordered.

The old man stood for a long while outside the Palace of Kama in Khaipur, staring at its marble pillars. Finally, a girl took pity on him and brought him bread and milk. He ate the bread.

"Drink the milk, too, grandfather. It is nourishing and will help sustain thy flesh."

"Damn!" said the old man. "Damn milk! And damn my flesh! My spirit, also, for that matter!"

The girl drew back. "That is hardly the proper reply upon the receipt of charity."

"It is not your charity to which I object, wench. It is your taste in beverages. Could you not spare me a draught of the foulest wine from the kitchen? . . . That which the guests have disdained to order and the cook will not even slop over the cheapest pieces of meat? I crave the squeezings of grapes, not cows."