Coping Skills

"I AM NOTHING"

It’s hot. Suffocatingly hot, but there is one task at hand and an hour in which to do it. Alienu's black eyes scan the Circle. She swallows warm dusty saliva - positive she's as unreadable as any of them. “You nailed this neutral Stepford crap. Game on, Suckers."

takA fi MmaA takA fi rraA Taka fi chottI, takA fi onG, Taka Daaaa EY.

They've been chanting it for an hour. Alienu’s mind pushes back. “You think this crowd's gonna show if they’re onto you?! Look at 'em! Friggin' zombies.”

The Members of Circle 55 sit equidistant on sharp rocks, but they don’t sweat or squirm. No expression. No reaction. Smiles, tears, bouts of anger don't need to be forbidden, because they're forgotten. The thermometer just hit 111F and not one has broken a bead of sweat.

takA fi MmaA takA fi rraA Taka fi chottI, takA fi onG, Taka Daaaa EY.

Alienu sits on folded legs, bleeding from the punctures. These pourous lava rocks are bloodthirsty, plus the neck support scratches like hell. Circle 55 wears heavy woven contraptions that look like thick woven African chokers. How else do they keep their heads up during hours of chanting? The itching brings up anger, but Alienu is poker-faced; able to pass to Circle 55 through a coping skill called splitting. Coping skills...we used them to survive childhood. Alienu feels, but you can't tell.

takA fi MmaA takA fi rraA Taka fi chottI takA fi on, Taka Daaaa EY.

Let's get the chant out of the way. It's Shabd for...

I’m not a woman I’m not a man I’m not a person I’m not myself...

I am Nothing.

Nothing is the goal. Nothing is Bliss. Nothing is freedom. Members of Circle #55 are close to Nothing. Dropping birth names, pronouns, genders, memories, programming was the beginning of forgetting. And forgetting is freedom. Old names, or dead-names are chains. They are not written, read, heard, spoken. The only name used here is MaaLyndi, who joins us soon, once we're done chanting.

What about Alienu? That name is for you. "Alienu" will exist for the amount of words and time it takes to get this information to you - so you get an idea of what it feels like to be alien. Not an alien. Alien. A feeling, thinking sentient human being from this big rock, this living rock, just trying to fly under the radar of this I Am Nothing Utopia Land while experiencing terror and doubt with every breath.

takA fi MmaA takA fi rraA Taka fi chottI, takA fi onG, Taka Daaaa EY.

“Shabd is not a dead language like Sanskrit or Aramaic - it is a living language and a powerful tool. When sung 144 times, the Identity Mantra of Shabd provides strength, protection and transformation. Shabd was buried for thousands of years due to it's vibratory power. It is known to reconfigure the DNA of all practitioners. Shabd is the language that saved the Survivors of the last Great Flood from mass drowning by levitating them into the mountains of Hunza.”

Uh huh. That’s the PR version you're handed when you join Circle 1. History is written by the winners. Don’t ask questions about any of this. Not here. Trust that the cards are stacked in favor of the House and Alienu barely has a chance in hell. And sorry, though this seems like a Zen Utopia...we won’t lie. It’s hell.

takA fi MmaA takA fi rraA Taka fi chottI, takA fi onG, Taka Daaaa EY.

Five more to go. Alienu is counting to keep focused. A muscular facial twitch is starting to claim attention. Will the Council notice? Getting busted would mean expulsion. Game over. Rhyx would not be freed.

And liberating Rhyx is the point.

Alienu is risking her life to make sure Rhyx is no longer their garbage disposal! They are in the closest proximity since the two were separated. Forget you heard "Rhyx." Here, Rhyx is respectfully called “It.” Using It’s dead name (Rhyx) could bring up cancerous, toxic empathy.

The Council of Four has access to It at any time, of course, but Members get only a brief Viewing of It during Festival Week. Viewings serve as a reminder of the Second Chance. After all, they are so much better off with It. Because of It, they are free to attain the auspicious state of Nothing.

Outside of Festival week, Members have no contact, no thoughts, no discussions... about It. If these rules are broken, the Council expels the perpetrators to Circle #1 to start over. Unimaginable.

We will go see It. We aren’t bound by the rules here and this pending Festival Viewing might not end well so let's do this now. You might even be able to help.

But please be quiet.

VISITING IT

This is an abandoned Bell Phone Company building on one of the dead Main Streets. These marble steps feel strangely smooth and cool compared to the hot rocks outside. The echo in here is horrible. We’re going down to the old janitor's storeroom. It's down the hall on the right.

Now if you peer through that thin crack in the door...

It...on the ground, chained to an old water heater. Doubled over. In anguish. The door is actually hot! It feels the heat of all 55. It feels the jabs and punctures of the rocks….It also feels the emotions of the Members...

So the Members don’t feel at all.

It feels their grief, sorrow, rage, fear, stress, plus old “dead memory'' emotions of empathy, worry, compassion, anxiety...and on fleeting occasions: contentment. It writhes, now sobs, now vomits up the smells and sounds of the sordid emotional stench of Circle 55 and worst of all, the suppressed rage of MaaLyndi, don't be fooled, oh no, don’t be fooled about MaaLyndi...lapping up all the credit for peace and nirvana. MaaLindi's, evolved, emotion-free, genderless I-am-Nothing Society is wholly dependent on this desolate child you see in front of you.

Don't say It's name.

...Are you okay? Sorry you had to see It. They’ll tell you “It is one life. And a male from the most oppressive race of the Old Society! It's life is no huge loss. And isn’t the sacrifice worth...It? Maybe.

We’re too loud. It seems to see you or sense you. And if It senses you, the Council of Four could sense It...sensing you. We need to go back to the Circle before we too are expelled to Circle 1.

THE FESTIVAL MESSAGE

Oh look here! Just in time. The transparent body of bountiful MaaLyndi is hovering above the Circle like a hummingbird. Maalyndi’s white lips bend upwards, but only slightly: anything more would be seen as emotion. 110 Eyes on MaaLyndi, whose own eyes close for contemplation as the Opening Message begins. The four-toned voice of MaaLyndi reverberates to the pink clouds above.

First. Reflect on the Old Society. How deep was their fear of freedom? They branded Freedom on their skin. They fought. And they died. For Freedom. But freedom was something they never wanted.”

Members nod in rhythm, like bobbleheads. Alienu is not listening, but going over the plan. The locket hiding in the neck brace had been undiscovered in the Memory Roundup (the gold heart protected Gramma Reemes’ image). Gramma Reemes' image, the one thing that kept Alienu feeling, remembering, hoping. Alienu, Rhyx and Kadyn were raised under Gramma Reemes in the Final Days.

If Kadyn can see Gramma Reemes' image - it will bring up emotions. But Kadyn is on duty today and part of that job is no eye contact with the Members. Kadyn is just Security after all.

During this Festival, a presence will awaken in your solar plexus and step in the driver’s seat. We expect to connect you to every conceivable aspect of the universe...

Circle 55 sits frozen in the heat, sustained contemplation on each face. Every face but one. Alienu is panicking. “What if the locket isn’t in the neck thing?! I don't feel it. I stuffed it in there, where else would it be!?”

As young beings, you walked through unstable times created by the greed of your Fathers. You saw variations of suffering and you opted for Nothing. ..

Alienu continues to bore intention into her toughts toward Kadyn. “Hear me! Look. At. Me. Just feel one emotion. Gramma Reemes loved you! Feel her love. It’ll spread like a virus. It will free Rhyx from their curse!"

Maalyndi isn't without psychic talent. There is a crosscurrent in the air. But the show must go on.

Tonight you will touch the freedom that comes as your mind is relieved of all control over your lives. Today we mark the Festival of Dissolution. Are you willing?

All: YES.

Our Esteemed Member will now bring It to us for the Viewing. We remember that with paradise comes pain. We take this moment to close our eyes and prepare.

Kadyn rises to go fetch... It. Alienu's hidden fingers slowly crawl their way into the choker. Fingers scan the grass ropes, where is the chain?! There! One tug. Something's stuck. Really stuck.

MaaLyndi’s turquoise eyes now land and gaze into Alienu.

Alienu's panicked fingers yank the chain. It breaks. Chain in hand! Oh you heartless chain! MaaLyndi re-appears over Alienu. Hovers. Time to run. Chasing Kadyn is the only way.

Alienu runs, desperate, ripping off the choker...closer!

“KAADYYNNN!”

That name long forgotten, Kadyn turns back only in reaction to screaming...almost there! Reaching, holding the chain…

“Gramma Reemes! She raised us. Remember? I'm your cousin!”

The thick choker is ripped off and hurled toward Kadyn. As it soars in the air, a glistening object drops from it. Tucked in between two ropes was the heart.

"Look in the heart, Kadyn! Remember!”

The apprehension of Alienu is swift and efficient as the Council of Four surround the interloper. But as is protocol - violence is never witnessed...only vaporization. Audible gasp from the Circle. Magic!

Alienu is elsewhere, if anywhere at all. A memory, if memories exist.

Kadyn stands frozen. Uncertain of the next action. Until the shiny object beams up from a tiny rock, emanating light. In a moment of uncharacteristic curiosity, Kadyn squats low and picks up the shiny, tiny gold heart...

Broken...and open.

Kadyn turns it over. Something frozen thaws. Something dead becomes revived, something forgotten...remembered. Kadyn's belly stirs.

...A salty, tardy tear of childhood drops down on Gramma Reemes' image. As if to wake her up.

"Who's that? Kadyn?! Oh, hello, my dear one."

Kadyn smiles deep. From his belly.