I took the helicopter down to treetop level, hugging the terrain to avoid radar. Dr. Code was apparently in shock. She hadn't said a word since the rescue so I let it rest.

In the darkness it would be nearly impossible for anyone to find us but tomorrow we'd have to watch out for satellite survelliance.

After ten minutes I heard a muffled sob. Bianca sat with her head inclined, a tear hung on one of her long eyelashes, hesitated and then fell into her lap.

Her face was sculpted by her sorrow, not to disfigure but to clarify her beauty to the point where she seemed almost more than real.

We traveled for another half hour before she spoke.

"Where are we?"

"Deep inside Peru, near Brazil."

A couple of minutes later she seemed to be more sensitive to her surroundings. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"We're two hours out from Guayaquil. There's a place near there where we can stop for a while and sort things out."

"Back there, at that place...," she started.

"Look Dr. Code, you've been through a lot. Why don't we talk about it in the morning. Try and get some rest."

"O.K.... Thank you Detective Roth," she said quietly.

"My friends call me Vic," I said with a smile.

"Thank you... Vic."

"Try to sleep now"

Bianca turned toward the window and closed her eyes, exhausted. Soon she was asleep.

I flipped open the fresh air vent and let the humid jungle air fill the cockpit. The smell was complex, mnemonic, bringing back memories of other tropical adventures decades ago. I flew on through the night.

In the baking hot desert of western India a black limo skimmed over the sand.

It was a ground-effect model Mercedes with bullet-proof glass. The two men inside were bearers of bad news and knew full well that this day might not go well for them.

"There it is, towards the right," said the man in the passenger seat. He pointed across the flat terrain to a place where the sky met the earth in a shimmering line.

"I don't see it"

"Right there, look where I'm pointing," said the first man.

The driver squinted his eyes, but gave up. "I don't know what you're talking about. It's supposed to be a building, but all I see is the horizon."

"O.K. See the horizon, that hard line? Look at the place in the center where the sky blends into the earth, that fuzzy smudge. Head for that."

As they drove on the smudge on the horizon grew larger and larger but no more definite.

"That is The Temple of The Nameless One. It was cunningly designed by Infidels using computers in such a way as to blur the meeting between Heaven and Earth. As we get closer you'll still find it impossible to say where one begins and the other ends."

The black limo sped on.

Inside The Temple a meditation class was in progress lead by Master Ram Gupta, a thin old man with vacant eyes.

"...so you must always strive to master your senses. Do not trust them, they will deceive you. Remember to speak with your ears and listen with your mouth. And that is all for today. Are there any questions?"

There were twenty kneeling monks dressed in orange robes. Most were young, in their late teens, impressionable like white paper ready to receive any characters.

One monk near the center of the group raised his hand.

"Master Gupta," he said with his voice shaking, "In m-my meditations on the Divinity of The Nameless One I was troubled by a thought. Once I had that thought it kept coming back, no matter how hard I tried to evade it. It is a question...."

The old man smiled beatifically. "Come Guandopalo, tell me what is in your heart."

"W-well Master Gupta, what I was wondering is this: is not 'The Nameless One' really just a name, a kind of descriptive name?"

The gathered monks froze and looked with horror upon the monk in the center of the room.

The room became so quiet that the flies could be heard buzzing about the sacramental fruit on the alter near the window. A loud thud proclaimed the fainting of one monk toward the back of the room but no one dared take their eyes from Guandopalo.
--chrispt@hotmail.com

Guandopalo felt the sweat trickle down his back to be absorbed by the fabric already clinging to his slim waist. He realized as soon as the words were out that the question should never have been asked, but it was too late to take them back now.

His only recourse now was to await the punishment which was inevitable because he had dared question the Divinity of The Nameless One. But did Master Gupta not ask if there were any questions? Was his not a legitimate one? Was he not permitted to ask in order to understand what he had been sent here to learn?

Finally he found the courage to gaze up at Master Gupta and Guandopalo was startled to see, for the first time since they had been in training, a glint of life spark in the old man's eyes.
--Jeri

"You have some nerve," the esteemed master whispered. "Follow me to my inner chambers." Gupta commanded the Temple, meaning his office was the sacred connection between Earth and his world. The Nameless One's world. Guandopalo looked astonished.

A massive ring was decorated with the word "Nameless" in countless languages. Billions of questions to enlighten the mind were scattered across the enormous room. "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" "Can God make a burrito so hot he cannot eat it Himself?"

"Speak my name!" roared a voice from the now red glowing ring.

Nervous, Guandopalo began to speak of the countless characters off the ring.
--Edward Of Langara

What happens next? You decide. Write a sentence, write a paragraph then send it to me and I will add it to the story.