Nonentity Read online

  In the front passenger seat, the traveler said, “Is this your car? What’s the make and model?”

  Manchester paused, darting his head around. “Good question. I imagined something sleek and superfast and this is what we got. What do you think?”

  “It’s superb on the inside.”

  “The odometer goes up to three-fifty. Should I bury the needle?”

  “I suspect that speeding isn’t very dangerous here. Floor it.”

  Manchester pushed a button to start the car. He applied extreme force to the gas pedal. Five seconds later the vehicle shot past two hundred miles per hour. The terrain was smooth. There were no other automobiles on the open road. The scenery outside looked nice, though one could hardly size up the landscape at such breakneck velocity.

  The traveler said, “Do you hear that?”

  “What?”

  “The radio. Listen.”

  The traveler turned up the volume. Allen Jonah was speaking, but the broadcast ventured in and out of static: “Your reality begins to slip away … ill-advised mission … politely decline … disastrous scheme in the making …” The signal cut out.

  “What was that?” the traveler asked.

  Manchester said, “What was what?”

  “The radio program. Did you catch any of it? The voice was Allen Jonah’s, but it was a bad transmission. I couldn’t make out most of what he was saying.”

  “All I heard was static, Sebastian. I don’t think that Jonah is in the void.”

  The traveler slumped back in his seat, shaking his head. “Maybe this place is more than I can handle. Twice now I have heard Allen Jonah on the radio. I already know that I can’t trust my eyes. Apparently I shouldn’t trust my ears either. I may be going crazy.”

  Manchester laughed sympathetically. “I can relate. When I first came here, the constant oddities kept me off balance. But things will improve. They did for me.”

  “This place isn’t real, is it?”

  “That’s debatable.”

  “Indeed. I’ve witnessed some bothersome things here. My senses are unreliable.”

  “Frankly, they weren’t that reliable in your previous existence,” said Manchester. “Human beings on Earth trust their perceptions for practical reasons. I mean, how would they live if they didn’t? Yet, practicality doesn’t always jive with reality. The evidence of our senses is all that we have, which doesn’t guarantee the truth of that evidence.”

  “You remind me of my wife; she likes to wax philosophically too. Listening to both of you only adds to my doubt.”

  “Don’t let the doubt consume you. People call this a nonentity world. Left unstated is that Earth may be a nonentity world as well. What reason does one have to believe that Earth consists of anything beyond the merely perceptual?”

  The traveler thought about that. “None, really. Anything and everything I perceived on Earth may have been a delusion.”

  “Exactly. The situations there and here are not that dissimilar. I contend that the void is more real than our prior world. At least here we recognize how flawed our senses can be. Less is taken for granted. The lone absolute is the elusiveness of absolutes.”

  There was a short silence. Manchester said, “I want to show you something.”

  The car halted on the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking a wide canyon. The two men stepped out of the vehicle into bright sunlight. The valley below was barren, except for a green bus with rocket boosters attached to its sides. The bus rested at an angle on a circular platform, pointing determinedly toward the sky.

  “Amazing,” said the traveler.

  Manchester grinned. “An apt word for it.”

  “It’s more than that, though. You see, I had a vision of this in my previous life. I peeked out over this same cliff and saw that same bus. I was under a spell.”

  “That was no spell, Sebastian. You caught a glimpse of destiny.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We will use that bus to return to Earth,” said Manchester. “That is destiny.”

  “You must be kidding.”

  “I’m not. I brought you to this cliff to invite you to join a secret mission known as Project Unveiling Earth. We plan to transport the liberating vibes of this realm to our former world. We respectfully request your enlistment in the project.”

  The traveler pondered it. “I don’t think so. I mean, I look at that hunk of junk down there, and I have to pass. The idea strikes me as preposterous.”

  “That hunk of junk is a lot more capable than you presume. We operate on the unique principles of this realm, rather than those governing the world to which we will return. Perception, imagination, and creativity regulate our possibilities here. The old limitations do not apply. Anything we conceive, no matter how fantastic, we can make reality.”

  “That’s fine in theory. But how can a perceptual bus carrying perceptual people transform into something material?”

  “A challenge indeed,” said Manchester. “The human body is approximately seventy percent water. Our scientists developed a special suit for the passengers. This suit is designed to reconstruct the chemical compounds of the human form, with particular emphasis on water. The scientists have also engineered a device that will reformat the bus into physical form. Material reacquisition should occur simultaneously with reentry.”

  “You can’t guarantee that it will occur.”

  “Well, nothing in this existence – or any other – is guaranteed. Didn’t we already have this conversation? I concede that our mission courts serious risk. I remind you, however, that you have already taken many risks; they brought you here. As I stated earlier, your courage caught my attention. You are undeniably fit for this project.”

  The traveler paused, trying to submerge his doubt. “Who else is going?”

  “That is confidential. I believe you can be trusted. Otherwise, I would not have extended this invitation. Your father and your brother Hagen have committed to the mission. So has your friend Cranston Gage. Most importantly, Lorna is part of the team.”

  “Lorna?”

  “She was one of the first people we recruited. She agreed without hesitance.”

  There was a longer pause. “Then I’m in.”

  Manchester smiled. “Thank you.” He shook hands with the traveler. “Now I must make a couple more requests, Sebastian.”

  “What else?”

  “I beg of you not to inform Lorna of your participation in Project Unveiling Earth.”

  “Why not? One way or another, she’ll find out.”

  “Yes, but at the right time,” said Manchester. “Your involvement may unsettle her. It’s a subject we must approach delicately.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. If she’s on board herself, she shouldn’t object to my participation. Besides, I don’t care to keep a secret from her. She is my wife.”

  “Please, Sebastian. Give me a chance to determine how to best present it to her.”

  The traveler frowned. “Okay. I reluctantly defer. Anything else?”

  “Yes. Some of our mission’s members are writing memoirs about their lives on Earth. Their stories will help us deliver our message to those in shackles. I am aware of your past exploits as a writer. Will you please write a book?”

  “I could do that. What would I write?”

  “Anything you want,” Manchester said. “I suggest that you focus some of it on the motivations and actions that led to your doom, which ultimately led you here, of course. You can write about Lorna too. I know that she was instrumental in what happened to you. But it’s your book. Do whatever you like with it.”

  “What would I call it?”

  “Well, since it will be about your life on Earth, you could name it Something Here. How does that sound? Will you write it?”

  “I haven’t turned you down yet, Gabe. I’ll get started immediately.”

  “Marvelous. I’ll look forward to reading it. Keep in mind that Project Unveiling Earth is scheduled for liftof
f in 103 days. We will stay in touch until then.”

  The meeting ended. The traveler was transported to a beach of pearly white sands. Lying on the ground, he glanced up at a placid full moon. Lorna came into view, looming before him in a slinky red dress.

  She kissed him and said, “Is this setting fair enough for you?”

  “With you in it – yes.”

  Their bodies entwined. The lovemaking that ensued was as intense as ever. However, the traveler did not enjoy it, distanced from his wife by the secret he now hid from her.

  CHAPTER 4

  PROJECT UNVEILING EARTH

  Writing had never been so hard. The traveler searched his memories, discovering little worth including in a book. His literary skills were lost to another universe.

  Did he need those skills? “Your wish is your perception’s command.” He visualized himself clasping a book he had penned about his human life; that book instantly formed in his hand. The object felt unimpeachably real, testament to the power of the nonentity world. Anything was possible. Imagination alone set the boundaries. The traveler was consequently less apprehensive about Project Unveiling Earth.

  “‘It had been years since Lorna was evaporated,’” said Gabriel Manchester, reading aloud the opening line of the traveler’s memoir. “I like that. Captures the reader’s interest from the get-go. How did you come up with it?”

  The traveler was embarrassed. “I didn’t come up with it. I didn’t come up with anything in the book. I just perceived the thing into existence.”

  “Hey, that’s efficient.”

  “But then is it truly my book? I mean, how can I take credit for something that required no effort?”

  Manchester placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If these pages tell your story, then the book is unequivocally yours. The effort was not in writing it; the effort was in living it.”

  “Thanks. I’m still living it. Much of my current effort is spent deceiving my wife.”

  “You’re not deceiving her. You’re withholding information. There is a difference. You haven’t lied to her outright, have you?”

  “It feels like I’m lying,” said the traveler. “Due to my secrecy, she doesn’t know about my role in Project Unveiling Earth. We can finesse that semantically to avoid calling it deception, but that doesn’t change the scenario. It feels wrong.”

  “Stay quiet about it. I will tell her.”

  “When?”

  “At the appropriate juncture.”

  The traveler shook his head. “Am I missing something? Lorna is my wife. I should be the one to tell her. This sneakiness is driving a wedge in our marriage.”

  “Patience, Sebastian, please. Give me some time to figure this out.”

  “How much time?”

  “I’ll get back to you within a few days.”

  The conversation soon ended, to the traveler’s discontent. On Earth Manchester had been an unwavering force for truth. Now he excelled at equivocations. The traveler wondered if the realm of pure perception was as disingenuous as his former world. And he didn’t hear back from the Grand Premier candidate “within a few days.” There was no communication between the two for several weeks.

  Guilt festered. The traveler could not look Lorna in the eyes during sex. Their lovemaking became listless and perfunctory, even painful. He believed she was giving him something he did not deserve.

  “What’s going on with you?” she said to him, following a spiritless outing between the sheets. “You used to make love to me with such passion. I haven’t gotten that lately.”

  “I fear I may be losing my sexual appetite.”

  “What? How can you lose it?”

  The traveler shrugged. “I can’t pinpoint the underlying problem. My desire seems to have disappeared to a large degree, for whatever reason.”

  “Well wish for it back.”

  “It’s that easy, huh? Any problem one has can simply be perceived away and forgotten as if it never existed. There need be no struggles, inadequacies, longings, or unsatisfying circumstances. What kind of life is that? And what about the idea that one should be careful what he wishes for?”

  “Those concerns belong to a lesser dimension. Struggle and frustration are essential only to an inferior life that we have stopped living. Focus on this existence. You can have whatever you prefer, including an active libido.”

  But the traveler could not wish for his passion back. His mental block was insurmountable. The problem worsened days later when Lorna informed him of her own involvement in Project Unveiling Earth. Her plan to abandon him should have jilted him. He reacted with numbness. Unbeknownst to her, he would be on the mission as well; she would not abandon him. His participation should have brought them closer. Instead, their gulf widened.

  The nonentity world was supposed to be a place of dreams. It had turned into a nightmare. When could he wake up?

  ****

  “Sorry. I’m busy. The upcoming mission requires my undivided attention.” That was the reply whenever the traveler attempted to contact Gabriel Manchester. Days turned into weeks and months. Even when Lorna was dead on Earth the traveler had felt closer to her (thanks to parallel universalism).

  Three weeks before liftoff of Project Unveiling Earth, Lorna threw a party for some of the operation’s members. She imagined their house festooned with flowers, balloons, and other bells and whistles. The decorations materialized by virtue of her wish. No cleanup would be necessary following the party. She would effortlessly perceive the special items out of existence. This ease of transformation had grown tiresome to the traveler. During his human life, he had dreaded the work that even simple tasks often required. He had overlooked the intangible benefits of labor. The absence of challenge in the nonentity dimension left a vacuum. No wonder people referred to the place as “the void.”

  Among the party’s guests were the traveler’s father, mother, and brother. Lorna’s parents, Mayor White Hair, Gabriel Manchester, and Cranston Gage were also there. It was awkward. The traveler did not know who was aware or unaware of his involvement in the project. Assuming nothing, he aimed to keep quiet.

  “You haven’t said much tonight, son. Is something bothering you?” Sebastian R. Flemming the Second asked the traveler after a predictably fabulous dinner. Father and son were seated alone together at a living room table.

  The traveler ran a hand along the table’s surface. “Why is everything in this home made of gold? Does that resemble any meaningful reality?”

  “I don’t know, son. Lorna must have picked it all out. Is that why you’re agitated?”

  “I’m not agitated.”

  “Then why are you giving everyone the cold shoulder?” said Flemming the Second.

  “What are you talking about?”

  The traveler’s mother sat down next to them and said, “It’s a vibe that he senses. Everyone feels it. Are you unwell, Sebastian?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine,” Hagen Flemming butted in. “Your disturbance is readily apparent.”

  The traveler turned to his brother. “What the hell is this?”

  Hagen smiled. “Sorry. We’re not ambushing you. It’s just, well, isn’t it natural for folks to be concerned when a member of their family exhibits the heartache you are clearly experiencing? We’re not used to seeing this type of trouble here.”

  “Where? You mean in the world of immateriality where there are no unpleasant emotions, regardless of how perfectly human those emotions are?”

  Hagen’s face contorted into confusion.

  Their father said, “That wasn’t what he meant.”

  “He might as well have meant that,” the traveler said, exasperated. “You and he and Lorna and a bunch of other people plan to travel back to Earth soon. I doubt that any of you are fit for the journey.”

  The traveler’s mother said, “Surely you don’t think that, son. The project’s participants were very carefully selected.”

  “Selected amo
ng the nonentities – the people who are no longer people. Do they recall what authentic humanity entails?”

  “Of course we do,” said Flemming the Second.

  “Dad, you believe that because you want to believe it. But the void has fundamentally changed us. We are like divine beings now, above and beyond the defects of that former world. What makes you confident that you can transfer utopia to such a place? What …”

  Manchester interrupted. “Enough naysaying. Your father and brother possess too much conviction to be dragged into cynicism regarding the mission.”

  The traveler sneered at Manchester. “Then why not let me speak it?”

  “It is a waste of breath,” said Manchester.

  “Maybe if you had shown greater consideration toward me, I would have a more charitable outlook. You’re the last person who should correct me.”

  “Alright, friend. Let’s continue this in private.”

  The traveler raised his voice. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Keeping things private is your M.O. I’d rather put things out in the open. I want to tell everybody …”

  “Silence,” Mayor White Hair said.

  The traveler’s words screeched to a halt. He became mute.

  White Hair said, “We are here tonight for a celebration, not a brouhaha. Settle these differences at another time. Please …”

  An empty wine bottle smashed the mayor over the head. He collapsed in a daze. Standing behind him was Lawrence Alister, party crasher.

  Inebriated (as always), Lawrence said, “He shouldn’t talk to you that way, Sebastian. You are a member of Project Unveiling Earth, an elaborate trap.”

  “This man is obviously drunk and spouting nonsense,” said Manchester.

  “Shut up, you two-faced politician,” said Lawrence in a tone that leveled the room. “Mr. Flemming no longer cares to collaborate in your lies.”

  Manchester said, “What lies? Nobody is interested in your booze-riddled hearsay. You are a violent maniac …”

  “Silence,” said Lawrence, rendering the Grand Premier candidate as mute as the traveler. “My alcoholic stupor is as much a façade as your self-righteousness. I have insight more vast than the furthest reaches of your imagination. You can only pretend to know what I know. You can only hope to grasp where this story is headed. You have enlisted Mr. Flemming in your foolish project and compounded that folly by demanding that he keep his enlistment secret from his loving wife. He deserves better. She deserves better.”