Chapter 6 in the cards
Sporting his new clothes, Preston continued his exploration of the city. He went to a holographic movie, which was interesting, but too loud for his taste. He had dinner at a restaurant and found it unpleasant, as there were too many distractions to truly enjoy the meal and he discovered he didn’t like food that was hot. Years of eating alone and cooking his own meals had definitely shaped him. Years of solitude and relative silence had shaped him. As he roamed further and further away from his hotel, hardly in a straight line, he encountered more and more strangeness. A religious group solicited him. At first he declined, but they pursued trying to engage him in philosophical banter.
“Do you believe in a god?” the closer asked.
“I am one with the Force,” Preston answered.
“You can’t believe in a god and the Force,” the apostolate censured.
Preston blinked, not sure what to make of the person’s argument.
“Knowledge of the Force does not negate the concept of a deity any more than science claiming the Universe originated from a singularity does.”
“So, you’re a Pagan and an evolutionist?” the apostolate asked.
“You don’t believe in a higher power at all?”
“There is always a higher power,” Preston said.
“But it might not mean what you think it does. There is always a chain of authority, but the Force is available to all…”
“Again with the Force?!” the apostolate grimaced.
“Maybe two hundred years ago there were shaman magic and voodoo, but this is the age of enlightenment. We’ve thrown away the old chains that imprisoned us.”
“Really?” Preston asked. He stopped to give the man his full attention.
“How many people practice this faith?”
“Upwards of twenty million,” the apostolate said.
“And growing. We teach people to free their minds and reap the health benefits of tuning out and allowing the stress of modernity to wash away.”
“Really? And how many people have become enlightened?” Preston asked.
“It’s a journey, man,” he said, avoiding the answer even in his own mind.
“You can’t really put a number on it.”
“How many can heal themselves, or move furniture around with the power of their thoughts?” Preston asked.
“Parlor tricks are not signs of enlightenment,” the man said.
“Perhaps,” Preston said, agreeing with the premise.
“But there really is something to be said for practicality. I am going to stick with what I know works, but thank you for your time.”
“You must forgive me, I’m new at this. Perhaps you would come and listen to my master?” he begged.
Preston considered it a waste of time, but out of misplaced respect or a desire to practice being social, he followed the apostolate back to his master. The man was preaching on a street corner designated for public speaking. The preacher was charismatic in speech and mannerisms, almost as dramatic as the main actor in the film he had seen earlier in the day, but nothing he said made any more sense than what the apostolate and his friend had tried to say. No wonder the folks were confused, he thought. The man spoke of a new book revealing all the precepts a man needed to make it to an idyllic afterlife, but failing to reach that, one would suffer for all eternity. Some of his audience would add exclamations as if supporting his rant. With the exception of the eternal damnation, the Preacher was basically using concepts of the Force, only exchanging the word force with the name of a deity.
“Come up and profess your sins today. Come and be healed, become one with your brethren,” the Preacher invited.
“You should go up,” the apostolate said.
“No, thank you,” Preston said, turning to leave.
“There is nothing here.”
The apostolate reached out to touch Preston, to slow him down, and Preston put him in a joint lock. Preston was actually pleased with himself for doing it so smothely, considering he’d only practice in dream and while astral traveling.
“This conversation is done, right?” Preston asked.
“You, son? Why do you exercise violence against one of your brothers?” the Preacher asked, singling out Preston.
The entire audience focused on Preston. The energy was interesting. Some of the people looking at him were curious. A few were anxious. But the apostolates looking on were ready to engage in a fight if they had, too, bombarding him with a menacing energy.
“I wish to leave and my ‘brother’ here was impeding my progress,” Preston said, letting the apostolate go. He quickly retreated outside of arms distance.
“Don’t you wish to be saved?” the Preacher asked.
“You presume I’m lost,” Preston said.
“Oh, so you’re already a member of our sect?”
“I’m one with the Force,” Preston said.
“That way will lead to your destruction, son. Wizardry, sorcery, witchcraft, shamanism all of these old ways are all evil practices shun by the one, true God,” the Preacher said.
“It is the old religions which nearly destroyed the entire galaxy and destroyed trillions of lives. You need to put away these sinful ideas and repent.”
Preston blinked, more than a little confused.
“My understanding is that lives were destroyed by an imbalance of power, brought about by the greed of many. If people were confident in their identities, content with what they have and where they are, there could not have been war.”
“That way is madness. If people were content with who they were and where they were, there would be no progress and the markets would crash and everyone would die. If people were content spiritually, they would not realize they are impoverished and need guidance from those who are superior,” the Preacher said.
“If everyone were content with who they were and where they are, there would be clarity, and peace would reign,” Preston offered.
“You are naïve,” the Preacher said.
“If you continue with the old ways, you will be an enemy to the one true God, and you will be destroyed, just as all the Jedi were in the Great Purge.”
“Then you have learned nothing,” Preston argued.
“As it is that sort of thinking, the refusal to embrace the ways of others that leads to war.”
“I will not embrace evil,” the Preacher said.
“I think you’re confused. You’re the one recruiting, while I was trying to exit,” Preston said.
“I am teaching people the truth,” the Preacher countered, his frustration wearing a bit thin.
“I have found that there is a fairly reliable, consistent test for truth. If you’re being coerced, over spoken, yelled at, pressured, fined, bullied, preached at, marketed to, threatened, disparaged, or otherwise convinced of a thing, you’re probably not getting truth. If you’re having to create rationalizations to compartmentalize or explain something, it’s probably not truth,” Preston explained, clearly.
“I feel no urgency to save or help because I know there is no urgency, that all is as it should be, and for reasons not always to be seen. My knowledge of the Force doesn’t require me to recruit, for how can I ask someone to come into the Light when they’re already there?”
“Is your confidence in the Force sufficient to save your soul?”
“Again, I don’t require saving, as there is nothing broken. Further, I don’t require confidence, as my understanding is not based on beliefs, but on actual, firsthand experience,” Preston said.
“Is your skill with the Force sufficient to heal this war veteran here?” the Preacher asked, setting up a challenge.
Preston looked at the middle aged man indicated by the preacher. He was sitting in an antigravity, personal assist chair, with additional Droid intelligence built into the chair. He was indeed dressed as a veteran of the war and he appeared to be permanently injured, but as Preston examined him with the Force, he realized there was nothing wrong with him. There was no reason why the man couldn’t stand up and walk. The audience was watching, expectantly. If he did nothing, the Preacher would probably make show of healing the man, and would call his Force impotent. If Preston did a fake healing, it would probably be twisted as evil, or perhaps asked why he healed a soldier who was no doubt doing penance for his own evil acts, or the Preacher might even proclaim the warrior was a plant, nothing was ever wrong with him. In any regards, Preston couldn’t win the challenge because it was rigged. He blinked, which was sufficient time for him to pan out, pondering a solution set. Obviously he could just walk away and there would be nothing loss, but the Force had him focus on a woman who was holding her sick child. The child was definitely sick, with one of the obvious signs of being a breathing apparatus attached to her neck where a tube forced air into her lungs with an audible wheeze. More disturbingly, the girl had a visible colostomy bag.
“I will heal this man if you heal this child,” Preston said, indicating the one he would personally like to cure.
“This child is perfect in God’s eyes, this is the way God made her,” the Preacher said.
“And so is your soldier. He does not require healing,” Preston countered.
The Preacher’s level of frustration continued to climb, but there was an audience and he dare not lose composure. Preston was surprised the Preacher had never been aptly challenged before. Did no one on this planet ever speak up against crazy folks?
“Please, if you could heal my child, I would be forever in your debt,” the woman said.
Preston approached her.
“What he spoke was true, in a way,” Preston told her.
“Your daughter is perfect. You and she have agreed to this life mission. She is learning limitations, and you are learning compassion.”
“How dare you make fun of this woman and her child’s condition?!” the Preacher said in mock anger.
“There is love and compassion in the light, if you come into the fold…”
“Sit down and shut up,” Preston said, using a Force command.
The Preacher sat down hard, right there on the stone he was preaching from, and he found himself unable to protest or otherwise speak. His disciples and marks didn’t know what to make of this situation.
“Your name is Em?” Preston asked the girl.
“Do you want to be healed?”
A computer on her forehead spoke for her.
“Please, Sir. I don’t want my mother to be sad, and she is always sad. She has given up a career to care for me. My father left her because of me.”
Preston explored the truth of the matter in less than a blink of an eye.
“I assure you, your father didn’t leave because of you, but because of something inside of himself. You are not responsible for that,” Preston said, gently. In a way, her statement reminded him profoundly of his own perceived relationship with his own parents. Even though this moment was not about him or his life, he realized there was no way to not recognize how everything somehow reflected back to him. How it reflected on everyone, individually. Like a hologram, it was impossible to divide the universe up without finding the entire universe still residing within that new piece. It added another caution to his check list, to make sure he was not healing someone in a futile effort to heal himself, as that was an empty road.
“If I do this, your life mission will change.”
“Please,” the mom said.
“Your life will definitely change,” Preston told the mom.
“You will benefit from this the most.”
“Yes, I admit this present life is hard for me, but I don’t ask for myself. I want my daughter whole. I want her to have a better life than I have had,” the mom said.
“I don’t want to die and she not have anyone else to care for her and I definitely don’t want to leave her in the hands of the state.”
Preston saw that her fears and concerns were both for herself and her child and that there were clearly enmeshment issues between them. Curing the body could cause a rift of spirit, but they both seemed sure they were ready for the next mission. If they weren’t, their current mission would still be there, but would take on a new form. He reached for the tube to remove it from her neck. The mom hesitated, stepping back, genuine fear that if the tube was removed the daughter would not be able to breathe. Preston stopped, not wanting to force this decision on them.
“Mom, let him,” the girl said.
“I’m afraid. I don’t want you to die,” mom said.
“At least I would be free, mom. Let him,” the girl said.
“Your mom is faced with the real dilemma of a life change. She doesn’t know what to do if she gives up a job of caring for you,” Preston said.
“Do you always talk to children as if they are adults?” someone in the audience asked.
“We are all children and simultaneously all adults, from the perspective of the Force,” Preston said.
“There is no distinction.” He turned to the mother.
“What do you want?”
The mom stepped forward, preparing herself for the worst. Preston gently removed the tube from her neck and as he did so, the hole cut into her larynx closed up and became whole. He next removed the colostomy bag, pulling it gently free as if her body was nothing more than shifting sand. The hole closed and she was whole. Preston touched her head, removed the computerized headband, and encouraged her mom to stand her on her feet. Em stood and the first act she did was to hug her mom and tell her with her own voice that she loved her. A cheer went up from the crowd and the mob closed in, all shouting questions and needs.
“Stop!” Preston said. When he had their attention, he insisted, “No. I didn’t do anything. This is the power of the Force and you all have access. You don’t need a Jedi Master. You don’t need me. Look around you and know that everything you see and touch is just one, large manifestation of the Force. Further than that, know that there is more to reality than what your physical senses can detect.”
“How can we ever learn to use the Force?” someone nearby him asked.
“When you learn that the Force is not something you grasp or wield to change who you are or where you are, or something you use to change others, only then will you start to recognize its influence over your life, only then will you begin to grow,” Preston said.
“That doesn’t make sense,” someone argued.
“The Force isn’t something you do,” Preston tried to explain.
“Even choosing not to do something is doing something. Holding is not the way of the Force, only letting go is.”
“You tell us what it isn’t?” another person asked.
“Are Jedi’s purposely cryptic?”
Preston laughed.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be enigmatic. Some of these things simply are ineffable. They’re beyond words, but not beyond knowing. If you feel compelled to do something, start by being more loving,” Preston said.
“Love is the only true emotion.”
“That doesn’t make sense. What about anger or hatred? They’re not emotions?” the person who had started the dialogue asked.
“Anger, jealousy, hatred, these are all derivatives of fear,” Preston began.
“And once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your life,” the first person mocked.
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard all of this but it’s not helpful.”
“If statements like that help you to learn to regulate fear, it is very helpful, but do not be afraid of anger, because even the fear of anger can lead to anger, which leads to hatred, which leads to suffering,” Preston said.
“And, I’m telling you, it isn’t true that it will forever dominate you. You can come back from anger. It is only an illusion that anger seems easier than love.”
“You insist anger isn’t an emotion?” the first said.
“Then what is it?”
“There is only one emotion and that is love,” Preston repeated.
“Fear is the measure of absence of love.”
“Then what is anger?!” someone snapped.
“Fear?”
“Anger is love,” Preston said.
“And if people understood that one truth, people would actually stop hating, because they would realize their hate actually sustains that which they would otherwise want to minimize.”
A hundred hands suddenly went up, all vying to be acknowledged, as well as a dozen questions coming from all sides, not waiting to be acknowledged. The law officer that Preston had met the previous day was suddenly next to him.
“Sir, you’re under arrest for disturbing the peace,” the officer said.
The crowd booed and seemed as if they might rush the officer. Indeed, the crowd had grown considerably in size and there was a true risk of people getting hurt. Preston found it humorous that they clearly didn’t understand the concept of ‘hate,’ because increasing their anger at the law enforcement only caused them to entrench in their determination to end this public meeting. Given the temperments, it seemed as if it might escalate into physical conflict, and this officer next to him would be torn apart by the mob.
“No,” Preston said, using the Force to be heard.
“Go and be at peace and consider what you have seen here today. Learn the ways of the Force, for it is with you, always.”
“Come on, Jedi,” the police officer said, taking him by the arm. The other officers stayed behind to ensure every one departed the area peacefully, while the one escorted Preston away.
Preston allowed himself to be led; a few of the people followed for a ways, but did not engage. Perhaps they had hoped Preston would flee or use his lightsaber. When all of that original group had dispersed, Preston relaxed.
“Thank you, Officer Mons. I appreciate you extricating me from that.”
“I didn’t do it for you. You’re really under arrest,” the officer said.
“Okay,” Preston said.
“Is it because of what I did yesterday?”
“What did you do yesterday?” the officer asked.
“You said you didn’t want to see me again,” Preston said.
“I’ve never spoken to you before in my life,” the officer said.
“You really don’t remember me?” Preston asked, confused.
“I would remember if I met a Jedi,” the officer said.
Preston found the officer’s statement amusing, but continued along peacefully, perfectly content. He noted the stares he got from passing Pedestrians as they must be wondering what he had done to warrant being taken into custody. They entered Precinct Seven and came towards the front desk, an island that contained a young lady receptionist and the Captain of the precinct. The Captain was engaged in a conversation utilizing tech. In the background Preston saw what looked like the robot he had destroyed being crated in by several techs and a detective. The conversation they were having ended when the door closed. Preston was curious enough to follow the conversation beyond the closed door, but the receptionist distracted him as she finished up a call.
“Yeah, you might want to send two units,” the receptionist said into her radio.
“Apparently Bruno hasn’t been taking his meds again and he’s psychotic. Just let me know if you need back up, sweetie, take care.” The receptionist turned to Preston and winked.
“So, Officer Mons, who are you bringing me today?”
“Book this kid for disturbing the peace,” the officer said.
“Ahh,” the receptionist said, popping her gum.
“Well, I guess being cute is an arrest-able offence.”
“Just book him, Arey,” Officer Mons said.
“I will fill the paper work out later.” The Captain set down the receiver.
“Let him go,” the Captain said.
“This person didn’t have a license to use the free speech area,” Officer Mons said.
“And he interrupted those who did have a permit and there were over two hundred people gathered, with more coming, so he had exceeded the maximum number of viewers...”
“I’m quite aware of what happened,” the Captain said.
“Were you also aware that the Mayor’s niece was in attendance? And that this Jedi healed her?”
“I, um, what?” Officer Mons asked.
“Yeah, you’re free to go, Sir,” the Captain said.
“We’re sorry for the inconvenience. Further, Mayor Hidalgo sends his compliments and an invitation to meet with him. At your convenience, of course. Just show up at City Hall and introduce yourself.”
“That seems nice. I’ve never been to City Hall before,” Preston said.
“I’m off at four, if you would like me to show you how to get there,” Arey said.
“Thank you. I would like that,” Preston said.
Officer Mons grunted and walked away.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got other things to attend to. A Blood Hunter was found earlier today. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” The Captain asked.
Preston shook his head. The Captain nodded and departed.
“What’s your number, cutie?” Arey asked.
“I don’t have one. But I assure you, if the Force wants us to meet up later, it will happen,” Preston said.
“Oh, nice dodge,” Arey said, faking a pout.
“I will find you, how about that?”
“I look forward to being found, then,” Preston said.
Two more officers approached the desk to check in as Preston headed for the egress. As he was about to cross over the threshold, he barely avoided bumping shoulders with a woman his age who was trying to exit faster than he. He smiled at her and allowed her to go first.
“Thanks. Can you believe they pulled me in for public intoxication?” she asked.
“That sounds like they were trying to keep you safe,” Preston said.
“They just like blocking fun,” she said, waving at a sky cab. She paused for a moment.
“You like fun?”
“Of course,” Preston said.
“You have any credits?” she asked.
“I do,” Preston said.
“You want to go to a rave with me?” she asked.
“I’ve never been to a rave,” Preston said.
“Oh, honey, you don’t know what you’re missing,” she said, hooking her arm in his and pulling him towards the cab.
Preston allowed her to pull him along and they slipped into the cab as soon as it settled. She gave instructions to the cab driver and their vehicle accelerated into the air, pushed into traffic by computer control. Once they were on their way, she introduced herself to him.
“I’m Kelsey, but everyone I like calls me Kels,” she said, shaking his hand.
“Preston,” he said.
“Nice name,” Kels said.
“This your first time to a big city?”
“Does it really show that much?” Preston asked.
Kels laughed.
“Not that much,” she said, kissing him.
“I’m so glad to be out of that cage. Am I ever going to show you a good time.”
Preston kissed her back. She climbed up on his lap, facing him.
“Hey, you two! Not in my Taxi!” the driver yelled. His tone sounded angry, but Preston couldn’t discern if his alien face was angry or just made that way.
Kels laughed.
“Why? You don’t want to watch?”
“You kids need to behave!” the driver snapped.
“Oooh, or what? Evil robots will come take us away?” she snapped back, sarcastically.
“I will pull over and put you both out, fare or no,” the driver yelled.
Kels pouted, leaned into Preston, biting his ear.
“I will have you later, I promise,” and then she climbed off his lap and adjusted her skirt, purposely raising her bottom off the seat to pull it down to her knees. She blew a kiss at the driver and then leaned into Preston, kissing his ear.
Preston didn’t know what to say, but she definitely had his attention. Though city life was as fast paced and exciting as he had imagined it, some parts of it confused him, while other parts of it annoyed him, but the random interaction with available females seemed like an excellent perk. The cab arrived, Kels asked Preston to catch the fare, and then she led him into a club. It was dark, black light illuminating various articles of clothing and strips along tables, chairs and walls. The music drove a hypnotic, pulsing base, like a heartbeat, and it was deafeningly loud. In addition to a strong odor of alcohol, sweat, scents of various creatures, musk, perfumes, and food, there was a negative, palpable energy that pervaded the place. Preston was aware of the dark side of the Force and his first impulse was to flee. It was that impulse to flee that made him stay, not wanting to allow the fear to master him. He would see what he came to see. In the meantime, he surrounded himself with love and light.
Kels squeaked, ‘my favorite song,’ and pulled him excitedly towards the dance floor and a dozen writhing dancers immersed in soap bubbles. For a moment, he and Kels danced, with her doing most of the dancing as he sort of stood there, moving his arms. She rubbed up against him, smiling at him, and then turned to rub against him with her back, before she started twerking. Complete strangers joined them, both male and female, pushing up against him. He did not appreciate the males joining in, especially when they were just as easger to bump into him as the females, but they didn’t appear to mean any harm. They were having fun. He gently redirected them away from him using the Force, and they shuffled on, unaware that they were ‘pushed’ or that the girls surrounding Preston were now a barrier to any chance of colliding males, but instead assumed they were just moving with the mood of the music and the flow of it all. Mostly, their female companions went with them, but for whatever reasons, three girls clung to Preston, and two writhed against Kels. When the song changed, Kels laughed, kissed one of the girls, and pulled Preston towards the bar. As they left the floor, the wetness of the bubbles seemed to fade and he was left dry, but for Kels, the bubbles left a soapy film against her skin and her clothes were wet.
“Two poppers and some streaks!” she yelled gleefully over the music.
“So, what was that about evil robots coming to take us away?” Preston asked, raising his voice to be heard over the din.
“What planet were you raised on?” Kels asked.
“It was a moon, actually,” Preston said.
Kels laughed.
“And your culture doesn’t tell stories of evil robots kidnapping bad children to torture them? Uh! And I thought it was something all parents tell their kids to trick them into behaving,” she said.
“Parents tell their kids that?” Preston asked.
“Mine did,” she said, kissing him.
“Don’t worry, it’s just stories. If evil robots came and took bad people away, they would have taken my parents before me. Since that clearly didn’t happen, I can say with some authority that their or no evil robots lurking in the shadows to catch bad people away and torture them for their whole lives.”
The bar tender set a mirror down in front of them and put down two lines of powder. He provided one straw. He then fetched two glasses, glowing fiercely in the black light, and poured in an orange, luminous liquid. Preston watched Kels snort the line, and then downed the drink in one shot.
“I don’t think it’s wise to mix stimulants and depressants,” Preston warned.
“Oh, god, you’re not going to bring me down, are you?” Kels demanded.
“If I wanted to make out with my dad, I could have stayed at home.”
Preston was quiet. If expressing concern was going to cause her to shut him out, he didn’t know what he could say. And was she serious about her father? Was her present need to ‘escape’ due to physical or sexual abuse at home?
“So, you in or what?” Kels demanded.
“What’s the purpose of this?” Preston asked.
“This gives you wings, streaks across the stratosphere, where this stabilizes the flight,” Kels said.
“You can leave your body without using drugs, if that is the goal,” Preston said.
“Bar keep, hit me again!” Kels demanded.
“My friend is crashing me.”
“Is your friend paying?” the bar tender asked.
“Of course he is paying,” Kels said.
“He said he wanted to have fun with me.”
The bartender looked to Preston. Preston consented. Kels hit the remaining streak and popped Preston’s popper. She screamed and kissed Preston hard on the mouth, nearly taking him off the stool. She laughed, clinging to him tightly.
“If you maintain this pace, you will become unconscious,” Preston said.
Kels grabbed the next drink the bartender brought.
“Here’s to unconsciousness!?