by Joseph R. Foster
The
hatchlings' screams echoed through the ancient cavern. KhaKhak listened
in quiet contemplation. If one were to squint one's eyes in just
the right fashion, the multitude of squirming bodies on the cold granite
floor transformed into a roiling sea of skinless flesh and ivorine beaks.
KhaKhak knew the mass's torments would soon fade, however. The passions
of youth were a marvelous, but fickle thing; soaring one moment to the
ecstasy of absolute cruciation, then, just as suddenly, plunging
headlong into the endless depths of spiritual mediocrity. If only
one could be found in this sea of youthful exuberance; one with the devotion,
sincerity and insight necessary for the task KhaKhak knew must be
undertaken soon, there might be hope.
KhaKhak had been the spiritual
leader of Khess for nearly a millenium now, and it was no secret
to the world that his days among the living were in their twilight.
Twice before KhaKhak had believed he had found worthy candidates, but in
each instance the pupils fell victim to the ever present lure of worldly
pleasure. KhaKhak had even had thoughts, though he fought desperately
to bury them, that perhaps the Khess could not be saved. Or even
more disturbing a question, should they? KhaKhak had often wondered
if this civilized society knew, or even cared to know what true suffering
was. "If it feels bad do it!" seemed to be the unspoken anthem of
the day's youth.
Oh how little they know,
he thought.
Slowly the cacophanous squall
began to fade. KhaKhak let his fingers pass lightly across the cover
of the Mikka, the Holy book of the Khess. KhaKhak's Mikka, bound
with the scales of its previous owner, was the oldest and most complete
Mikka in existence. Slipping the book into an inner pocket of his
robes, KhaKhak made his way down from his pedastal. The hatchlings
lay panting and exhausted three deep across the floor. KhaKhak began
to wade through the bodies. As was tradition, he took his position
at the entrance of the great cavern and raised his arms, signaling the
end of the session. The landscape of the cavern shifted, as hundreds
of young ones scrambled to their feet. It would take some time for
the assembly to empty.
Rarely did any of the hatchlings
speak to KhaKhak. For many, especially those with exceptionally poor
cognitive skills, KhaKhak was a god rather than a sage. That is why
KhaKhak was very surprised to see one youngster, waiting alone by the pedastal
in the center of the now cryptlike cavern. From where he was standing,
KhaKhak could not quite make out enough of the figure to identify it.
Failing eyesight signaled the beginning of the end of a Khessian life.
Crossing toward the pedalstal, the clicking of KhaKhak's claws echoed through
the cavern. Before he had even made it halfway, KhaKhak knew it was
Shekee.
Shekee...
Shekee was one of the brightest,
if not the brightest youngster KhaKhak had ever encountered.
Always wide-eyed and attentive, Shekee seemed to hang on each word KhaKhak
spoke. And he was not afraid to ask questions. Indeed!
He constantly asked questions of KhaKhak; waiting in the labrinth of passageways
surrounding the great cavern for hours in hopes that KhaKhak would accidently
pass his way and he would have an opportunity to steal a few seconds of
the Master's time.
Yes...perhaps he is the
one. He must be, for there is no time left.
KhaKhak approached the young
one. Standing a full ten feet taller than Shekee, KhaKhak imagined
he must be quite an imposing figure to the hatchling. If he was intimidated,
Shekee showed no outward signs of unease. Rather, it was quite obvious
that Shekee was in a state of great excitement.
"Highest KhaKhak, I come
to you today with a request...a request for enlightenment," Shekee began.
KhaKhak tilted his head
to one side, staring back at the youngster as he thought.
"You may proceed."
"Highest KhaKhak, your words
inspire me to higher and higher levels of torment each day. I have
long since isolated myself from the infectuous laughter of the anti-spiritual
Khess of the world. But now..." Shekee trailed off, as if unsure
he should really be speaking in so frank a manner to the great KhaKhak.
KhaKhak stared a few moments
at the youngster before urging him to continue.
"I feel no desire for worldly
pleasures or merely superficial pain that fades with time. What I
seek is enduring pain."
"Is that so?" KhaKhak interjected,
"But I thought you said that each day I inspire you to greater and greater
levels of torment."
"Yes, Highest KhaKhak, but
what can I do to increase my amount of suffering?"
An appropriate question
for a hatchling such as Shekee, thought KhaKhak. Finding an appropriate
answer to the question, however, would be a precarious endeavor indeed.
"Young Shekee, your queries
are well founded in the roots of Khessian culture. Unfortunately,
the answer you seek is a paradox in itself. For one only takes a
conscious step toward self-denial by taking two unconscious steps toward
self-gratification."
KhaKhak studied the hatchling's
eyes for signs of comprehension but could find no evidence of understanding.
"Seek no peace," KhaKhak
finally said. The words were simple, but KhaKhak knew that many Khess
had wasted lifetimes trying to unravel their message, only to fail miserably
to do so.
"Do you understand?"
"No."
KhaKhak hesitated before
continuing.
"True torment can only be
achieved when one has done absolutely nothing to deserve it. All
life seeks order. Khessian nature is to make sense of our world,
although by doing so we move ourselves farther from the eternal torment
that we all hope to one day achieve. When we do not understand something,
we feel unbalanced and make efforts to organize our thoughts. When
things make sense there is peace. But since peace is undesirable,
we should therefore seek chaos. However, seeking chaos will always
be an unsuccessful venture because finding it would be the logical result
of our labors. It would make sense if we found chaos and therefore
bring us some degree of peace."
"Ahh," Shekee's eyes widened.
"True torment chooses its
victims. It is futile to believe otherwise."
KhaKhak paused, wondering
if he should proceed; hoping he had not said too much already. "If
you seek no peace, you build no defenses against chaos. You are making
no effort to seek chaos, but chaos may be more likely to find you.
Do you understand now?"
"Yes," said Shekee, nodding
his head, "It is finally becoming clear to me."
Then I have succeeded...,
thought KhaKhak as he watched the last hope for his world turn and
walk slowly from the chamber, ...and failed.
The End
