Paradox Love: Paradox Love Book 1 (8 page)

Pietra couldn’t resist the urge to chastise.  She didn’t agree with any of this.  Yes, free will was the supreme right of every single solitary soul, but this was pissing her off.  And yet, she pitied Grace. 

“Fine.  Fine.  Let’s try.  You asked why bad things happen to good people.  Well, the simple answer is, there are no bad things and there are no good people.  Nothing bad ever happens to anyone and people are neither good nor bad.  A person is nothing.  A
person
does not exist.  There are no
people
.”

Pietra was right.  The Earth was round and it was going to be very difficult for Grace to understand how it could be.

“I don’t understand.”

Pietra swung a long dark braid away from her face with her pen and tucked the strand behind her ear.

“Of course you don’t.  Let me see if I can put a dent in this.  You ever go to the movies?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.  Movies often have a good guy and a bad guy.  They’re actors, right?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever watched a movie where you actually liked the actor who was playing the role of the bad guy?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.  When the bad guy kills the good guy in the movie, does the actor playing the role of the good guy die or does the
character
die?”

“The character dies.”

Yes, this was definitely elementary.

“And the actor that kills the good guy, this actor didn’t really kill anybody, did he?”

“Of course not.”

“Good.  Now, both of those actors will eventually go on to play other roles, won’t they?  A brand new movie, a brand new plot, a whole new story?”

“Yes.”

“That is life on Earth.”

“I’m trying to understand that.”

“I know you are, Grace,” she breathed with a heavy sigh.  “Let’s go at it from another angle.  You are Grace.  Grace as you is all you know.  You are Grace.  Now, have you ever been in a school play?  Ever been an actress?”

“Sure.  Once or twice.”

“Okay, good.  So maybe it was your job to play the princess in the play.  They made you a great costume.  The set decoration was wonderful.  You loved all the other characters in the play.  And your drama instructor explained to you that in order for this to be the best play all year long, you were going to have to pretty much convince yourself you were this princess.  If you could do that, if you could
become
the princess, it would be a glorious performance.  The best ever. 

So you do that.  You memorize every single line, practice your expressions, your body language.  You literally wear the costume day and night.  You
become
the princess.  In fact, you so magnificently transform yourself into the princess that eventually, that’s who you think you are.  You don’t even remember Grace, the person you
really
are.  You’re the princess.  And no one can convince you otherwise.  You spend the rest of your life as that princess, because that’s who you think you are.  You following all this, Grace?”

“Yes.  Yes, I am.”

“That is Earth consciousness.”

“So Earth is a place where we’ve all forgotten who we really are?  We’ve convinced ourselves so thoroughly of our roles that we don’t know we’re all wearing costumes?”

“Very good, Grace.  Good.  Good.”

“And what does that have to do with zombies?”

“Well, zombies are where it gets more complicated, Grace.  You guys down there are all pretty obsessed with zombies right now, aren’t you?”

“Seems like it, yes.”

“Well, that’s because there’s actually something really important going on right now on Earth.”  She flicked the end of her pen against her tablet.  “No, that’s not exactly the right way to say it.  There’s
always
something important going on.  This one is just kind of a big deal.  Look, I can’t really make the words simple enough for you to understand.” 

Grace was quickly noticing that nothing that came out of Pietra’s mouth had the slightest layer of sugar coating to it.

“Let me see how I can put this.  There is a collective that makes up the entirety of Earth consciousness.  It consists of the billions of lives lived up to this point, the countless lifetimes of experiences and hard won wisdom all combined into one energy, one collective consciousness.  Let’s call it Team Earth:  the result of all there was and ever will be resulting from man’s time on Earth.  It’s progressing all the time toward an ultimate goal.  Team Earth is never gonna reach that goal if you guys don’t start waking up down there.  And that’s why there’s zombies.”

She didn’t want to have to say it one more time, how she didn’t understand.  And it seemed pretty clear that Pietra’s patience was thinning.

“What’s this got to do with zombies?  You still don’t get it, right Grace?”

“I guess not.”

“Okay.  Let me think a minute.” 

Pietra chewed the well worn end of her pen and then moved to doodle something on her notebook.  She looked up from the squiggle, as if it had just given her the answers she needed to explain the next concept.

“Well Grace, it’s like this.  It started with just a few of you.  But one day somebody down there looked in the mirror and saw the costume.  It took them thousands of lifetimes.  Thousands of costumes.  But they finally did it.  They woke up one day. 
That’s it
. 
They woke up
.  They’d lived countless lifetimes as zombies.  You know what I’m saying?”

“Not exactly.”

“They’d been wearing the costume, playing the role.  You’re born, you wear the costume, go to school, grow up, get a job, buy stuff – buy a ton of stuff, have some kids, grow old and die in the costume, never having once ever asked yourselves the question.”

“What question?”

“
Any
question. 
All
the questions.  But for Pete’s sake at least
one
question.  Why am I here?  What’s the point to all of this?  Is this body all I am?  Is it
who
I am?  Is this all there is to life?  Just something.  You know what I’m saying?”

“I think so.”

“Man you guys are slow down there.  Lifetimes and lifetimes just buying the newest car, the bigger house.  What a waste.  Those lifetimes of being a zombie don’t mean anything.  They don’t advance a soul.  A soul goes to Earth to learn, to expand its experience.” 

Grace had the feeling she was supposed to be ashamed or something.  Her and the rest of mankind.  Sounded like humanity was a massive collection of losers.

“So why is that we’re obsessed with zombies right now?”

Pietra was willing to take one more shot to tie it all together.   One more shot.  But that was it.

“Well, Grace, the ones among you who’ve finally shed their costumes, they’re just sending out a simple message right now.  That’s why the zombies.  Team Earth is illustrating a point.  Too many of you are spending your lives as zombies.  It’s time to wake up.”

Grace appreciated the explanations.  She really did.  Problem was, that simple explanation conjured up at least a dozen more questions she wanted to ask.  But time was up.  Pietra was done.  She pulled her glasses away from her face and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“You’re wasting time with all this nonsense, Grace.  Time to wake up.”

She didn’t appreciate the tone or the message itself, but she wasn’t going to get herself involved in some argument over it.  Instead, she pushed herself back from her chair. 

“Thank you, Pietra, for taking the time to talk to me.  I really do appreciate it.”

“Feel free to come back again, Grace.  But without the costume next time.”

Grace forced a smile before standing. 

“Thanks again.”

As she walked toward the door, her back to Pietra, her instructor was speaking again.  “You have no idea what Gabe is risking to give you what you’ve asked for, do you?”

Grace was struck by the distinct change in tone.  Less sarcastic now, more serious, more somber.  But Grace didn’t turn back to face her.  Instead, she moved to turn the door handle.

“Why don’t you just ask him, Grace, next time you see him?” 

This time Grace did turn around to speak, but Pietra was gone.  The office was gone.  There was only the familiar white light all around and as far as she could see.  She turned back to the door and stepped out into the corridor.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Grace was existing in Earth consciousness.  It was absolutely true. She knew it, because nothing that Pietra said made any sense at all and because all she could think about now was getting back to Earth,
bac
k to Luke.  She turned to make her way back to Gabe’s office. The door was closed.  This was odd.  For the first time, she felt the slightest bit uneasy in the long corridor.  She spun around.  Every door was closed. 

And it was silent.  How strangely silent.  While she’d lived on Earth as Grace, she’d known silence, but not like this.  On Earth, if you really thought about it, there was never complete silence. 

It might seem that way just once in a blue moon, but although you perceived it as silence, there was always something, some sound.  Even if it was just the sound of your own breath, a tiny buzzing in your brain, a distant ringing in the ear.  Never silence like this.  She turned back to Gabe’s door and knocked lightly.  Nothing.  No response, no stirring within. 

She could not gauge time.  There was no way to measure increments of moments passing.  She knew that time was passing on Earth.  Perhaps each minute here was a year there.  She did not know.  She felt a panic creeping in. 
Breathe
. 
Breathe
.  What was there to do?  Every door was closed.

She couldn’t stand still.  The only counter to her anxiety was to move.  So she did.  She started across the corridor toward the transference room.  Halfway there, she stopped abruptly, thinking that if she posed a question in her mind, perhaps one of her instructors would be willing see her.  No such luck.  She thought of a question.  No response.  Another question.  Nothing.

She began to move again, reaching the end of the corridor.  Still nothing.  Still silence.  She headed back the other way.  And back again.  Over and over. 

Once again, she faced the closed door to Gabe’s office.  It was symbolic in a way to have the door tightly shut.  Went right along with the sinking feeling of abandonment.  Where was he?  She knew he was not in his office, but resorted to knocking again.  And then to talking to him.  “Gabe, I need you.  Help me. 
Help
me.”

She rested her forehead against the door.  Silence.  And then she felt it.  She felt it in that space in her chest, that half a bowling ball that wasn’t broken anymore.  A warmth.  A warmth and a comfort so profound that she understood immediately that Gabe had heard her. 

Her hands rose to her chest and for the first time, it was not an instinctive reaction to the pain.  The pain half was still there.  She was reaching for the warmth.

Gabe did not appear.  His office door remained firmly locked.  But Grace remembered where she’d felt this kind of warmth before.  The transference room.  She turned back toward that end of the corridor.  Even from the distance, she could see the golden light streaming in around the doorframe. 

She was walking again.  Anticipation rose within her as she breathed deeply with intention.  Transference was difficult, but she was going back.  As long as he was there, she’d go back.  Always.  Before turning the handle, she glanced over her shoulder towards Gabe’s closed door.

“Thank you.”  It was scarcely above a whisper, but she knew he heard her.

* * * * *

Gabe stood before the Council of Five, their chairs in a semicircle before him.  Pairs of eyes met at the awareness of a subtle ripple of energy felt by each as Grace departed.  All eyes were then upon him, although it was the senior most chancellor, Abigail, who spoke first.

“It’s already one transference too many, Gabriel.  This must be the last.  For all the reasons you already know, this must be last.”

“It will be the last,
if
she is ready for it to be,” he replied in an equally calm, yet resolute manner.

“There are too many affected now,” Abigail continued, “you among them.”

“You needn’t protect me from myself, Abby.  I know the laws as well as you.”

“But
Grace
doesn’t.  She doesn’t know.  In protecting her supreme right, the two of you have infringed upon others.  And she doesn’t understand what she’s asked of you.  Is it worth the cost?”

Gabe reached up and ran a hand through his hair.  He stepped away from the Council and walked toward the outer perimeter of the room.  Walls formed around the group, framing the stark white into a more intimate setting.  Dark curtains appeared on the windows and were instantly pulled open with his intention as the only effort needed.  Out the window, he summoned visions of blue skies and thick, fluffy clouds, taking a moment to watch them move before he spoke again.

“I am her counselor.”  He continued to address them while looking out the window.  “It’s my duty to protect her supreme right, her free will, above all else.” 

“And you have done so, but at great cost.  And now, because you have allowed the injustice, you’ve taken on the burden of the transgression.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.  I understand.  And you know I see it differently.  What would be the justice in forcing her into assessment against her will?  What kind of counselor would I be?  And how could I do it anyway?  It’s impossible.  She has to go of her own free will.”

“You could have found a way to let it be her idea.  How many times have you succeeded in the past?”

“This time was different. 
She
was different.  I could not convince her.  I swore the oath.  And that is everything to me.  She’ll understand why I did what I did.  I am accountable for it.  She can’t be.” 

“But she will be.  We
all
will be.  Sit down, Gabriel.”

He looked into her face.  Abigail was steady, unflappable.  For a thousand years, he’d never heard a stern inflection in her voice.  Until now.  Chancellor Jonas folded his hands on his lap, another indication of the gravity of Abigail’s forthcoming words.  Gabe didn’t need to be told twice.  He took his seat before them.

“I have a choice as well,” she began, “to let you continue exercising your supreme right without full knowledge of the ramifications, or to provide you with information that will most certainly influence your decisions.  Unlike you, I will choose the lesser of the two evils.  I will not risk the fate of others to protect your supreme right, as you did with Grace.” 

Her pewter eyes met his and pierced them with marked intensity.  She wasn’t trying to intimidate him, but to accentuate her next point. 

“Castellans is on the verge of ascension.  Grace was the last soul.  She had only to complete her assessment and our advancement was sealed.”

Gabe looked from one face to the next.  “I didn’t know we were so close,” he responded while exhaling at the announcement.

“Only the Council knew.  Such knowledge would only be an impingement upon all souls in Castellans.  It is not their burden to bear.  It is the Council’s burden.  Do you understand now why this must be her last transference?” 

“Yes.”

“Your regression would seal our fate and your own in more ways that you can imagine.”

“I understand.”

“When Grace returns, you will
truly
counsel her.  Counsel her until she understands what she must do.”

Gabe only half nodded before returning his gaze again to the clouds floating by out the window to his right.  “I will do what I have to do.”

Abigail approached him and placed her hand on his arm.  “Grace, of everyone, will understand.  Tell her.”

* * * * *

Grace stretched her limbs in accordance with the limitations of her kennel.  A lengthy yawn accompanied the exercise as she tucked her nose between the metal rungs for a sniff of the space beyond hers.  The days were long. 

She was not afforded access to her owner’s home without supervision.  And so she spent all the best hours of the day confined to a kennel – all the hours she might have been exploring, either inside or out. All the hours she might have made discoveries only possible by rolling through a patch of grass or sniffing the bark of the backyard tree.

And yet, she was lucky this time, in a way.  She was purebred and perfect and someone would want her.  Someone
did
want her.  She belonged to Kyle Peterson.  He’d named her Lucy. 

Kyle was a psychotherapist.  By day, he was devoted to his craft, dedicated to helping others work through debilitating traumas.  By night, he self-medicated for his own mental illnesses, which included manic depression and OCD.  

Lucy was his most recent, “prescription.”  He’d wanted her in the way that a child would want a dog.  He wanted a cuddle buddy, a friend, a source of unconditional love, a little warm creature that would adore him without question.

A friend had made the casual suggestion that he should get a dog, having never received the benefit of the knowledge of Kyle’s many obsessive compulsive behaviors.  A dog was most certainly not compatible with his odd tendencies.

It began early each day.  Lucy was brought out of her kennel every morning for breakfast.  Problem was, she was so excited to be out, she was nearly uncontrollable for the first moments of her daily freedom.  She raced from room to room, jumping from one object to the next, wreaking havoc throughout a series of carefully placed objects throughout the house. 

The last sprint of her victory dance was toward the back door, where her bursting bladder begged to be.  Kyle would let her out then, promptly closing the door behind her as he went about setting everything back in its place.  He wasn’t angry.  However, what many would have considered a happy commotion felt to him instead to be a rude violation.  He forgave her daily, after the anxiety attack had subsided.

Breakfast was meted out precisely at one-quarter cup right at the line.  Breakfast was even better than freedom, because Lucy was a beagle.  Food was everything to a beagle.  Everything.  Food was love to a beagle.  They loved food and food loved them.  But Kyle did not want to own a chubby beagle.  His beagle would be lean.  No chub allowed.

And Lucy’s eating breakfast brought Kyle anxiety attack number two.  No matter what size bowl he served her quarter cup in, she dove into it, sending a cascade of kibble onto the tile floor. She wanted to eat so badly.  She wanted every single morsel.  She wanted to be
in
the food.  She wanted it on her.  Hunger, excitement, freedom.  It was all too much. 

Sometimes she had the good fortune of eating every last piece.  Sometimes Kyle would have to run to the bathroom.  Sometimes the phone would ring.  Those times she’d follow her nose all over the kitchen floor discovering each little treasure she’d sent cascading earlier.  That was the best of both worlds – food and following her sniffer.  It was glorious. 

Other times, Kyle didn’t get busy.  And on those days, he’d grab his little hand vac and suck up all the loose kibble before Lucy could get to it.  Those were not quarter cup days.  And they weren’t good days.  They were hungry days. 

Lucy’s breakfast activities were about as much as Kyle could take, and most mornings he’d hoist her up after no more than ten minutes out of her kennel.

That was it.   She’d waited all night for those few minutes.  And they were gone.  Confined once again, she’d watch Kyle leave the guest bedroom, where he kept her kennel.  She had a limited view as he walked back and forth around the house getting ready for work.  She’d release a cry from time to time, an expression of anticipation for what was coming next. 

Soon enough, she’d hear the lock clicking on the front door and Kyle would be gone.  On a handful of occasions over the weeks that he’d owned her, the door had clicked again shortly thereafter.  One time he’d forgotten something, came back in and snatched it up before running right back out the door.  Another time, he realized he’d left the milk on the counter and dashed back in to put it away. 

Those times gave her a twinge of hope – a desperate hope that maybe today would be different.  But there wasn’t to be a miracle.  There was only the cruel tease to precede a day stretching out at a wretchedly slow pace. 

Kyle was devoted to his work.  Most days Lucy waited for him in that little space for twelve hours or more.  She slept whenever she could ignore her hunger, but there were too many hours.  When she would wake between naps, always she would look to the open guestroom door and listen for Kyle. 

There were days that she could not hold her bowel or bladder, though she fought against relieving herself with all the willpower she had.  There was a deep sense of failure and shame as she backed up as far as she could into the corner before finally giving up.  The act of relieving herself served to effectively reduce the already too small space.  She would have to curl up tighter to avoid soiling herself.

On those days, when the door would click after the long passing hours, Kyle would know instantly by the smell that she’d had an accident.  He never scolded her directly.  He didn’t have to.  The clean-up was punishment enough. 

“Okay Lucy, you know the routine,” he’d say as he carried the kennel through the house and out the sliding glass door to the backyard.