‘And all of this, all of it, could be stopped if only enough people could be woken from the slumber in which they are walking to their doom!’ he bellowed. ‘The Adversary and his agents stalk the world, which must awake from its slumber or perish! And who will wake them, if we don’t?’
The music slowly died away. The images faded from the screen. Now Wace stood breathless, apparently spent by his long speech, his face tearstained, his voice hoarse.
‘You,’ he said weakly, stretching out his hands to those seated on the floor in front of him, ‘were called. You were chosen. And today you have a choice. Rejoin the system, or stand apart. Stand apart and fight.
‘There will now be a short break,’ said Wace, as the lights began to brighten. ‘No – no,’ he said, as a smattering of applause broke out. ‘There’s nothing to be happy about in what I’ve just shown you. Nothing.’
Cowed, the applauders desisted. Robin was desperate for a breath of fresh air, but as Wace disappeared, church attendants opened a door on the left onto a second panelled, windowless room, in which cold food had been laid out.
The new space was comparatively cramped. The door onto the lecture room had been closed, increasing the feeling of claustrophobia. Fasters were directed to a table bearing flasks of hot water and lemon slices. Some recruits chose to sit down with their backs against the wall while eating their sandwiches or sipping their hot water. Queues formed for two more doors leading to toilets. Robin was certain they’d been in the lecture room for the entire morning. The girl with the heart-shaped face, who’d challenged Mazu the previous day in the temple, was sitting in a corner with her head in her arms. Robin was concerned about Walter, the philosophy professor, who appeared unsteady on his feet, his face white and sweaty.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked him quietly as he leaned up against the wall.
‘Fine, fine,’ he said, smiling while clutching his mug. ‘The spirit remains strong!’
Eventually, the door to the lecture room was opened again. It was already dark, and people stumbled and whispered apologies as they tried to find a free place to sit.
When at last all were settled back on the floor, Jonathan Wace stepped out into the spotlight once more. Robin was glad to see him smiling. She really didn’t want to be harangued any further.
‘You’ve earned a reprieve,’ said Wace, to a ripple of relieved laughter from his audience. ‘It’s time to meditate and chant. Take up a comfortable position. A deep breath. Raise your arms over your head on an in breath… lower them slowly… release the breath. And: Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu… Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu…’
Thought was impossible while chanting; Robin’s feelings of fear, guilt and horror gradually subsided; she felt herself dissolving into the deafening chant, which echoed off the wooden walls, taking on its own power, existing independently of the chanters, a disembodied force that vibrated within the walls and within her own body.
The chanting went on longer than they’d ever chanted before. She could feel her mouth becoming dry and was dimly aware that she felt close to fainting, but somehow the chant sustained her, holding her up, enabling her to bear the hunger and the pain.
At long last Wace called a halt, smiling down at them all, and Robin, though weak, and uncomfortably hot, was left with the feeling of well-being and euphoria chanting always gave her.
‘You,’ said Wace quietly, his voice now more hoarse and cracked than ever, ‘are remarkable.’
And in spite of herself, Robin felt an irrational pride in Wace’s approval.
‘Extraordinary people,’ said Wace, walking up and down in front of them again. ‘And you have no idea of it, do you?’ he said, smiling down into the upturned faces. ‘You don’t realise what you are. A truly remarkable group of recruits. We’ve noticed it from the moment you arrived. Church members have told me, “These are special. These might be the ones we’ve been waiting for.”
‘The world teeters on a precipice. It’s ten to midnight and Armageddon beckons. The Adversary may be winning, but the Blessed Divinity hasn’t given up on us yet. The proof? They sent you to us – and with you, we might have a chance.
‘They have spoken to you already, by the means at Their disposal, through the noise of the materialist world. That’s why you’re here.
‘But you’ve breathed pure air this week. The clatter has died away and you see and hear more clearly than you have. Now is the time for a sign from the Divinity. Now is the moment for you to truly see. To truly understand.’
Wace dropped to his knees. He closed his eyes. As the recruits watched, transfixed, he said in a ringing voice,
‘Blessed Divinity, if it pleases You, send us Your messenger. Let the Drowned Prophet come to us, here, and prove there is life after death, that the pure spirit lives independently of the material body, that the reward for a life of service is life eternal. Blessed Divinity, I believe these people are worthy. Send Daiyu to us now.’
The silence in the dark, hot room was total. Wace’s eyes were still closed.
‘Blessed Divinity,’ he whispered, ‘let her come.’
A collective gasp issued from the watchers.
The transparent head of a girl had appeared out of thin air on stage. She was smiling.
Alarmed, Robin looked over her shoulder, looking for a projector, but there was no beam of light and the wall was solid. She faced the front again, her heart beating rapidly.
The smiling spectral figure was growing a body. She had long black hair and wore a long white dress. She raised a hand and waved childishly at the crowd. A few people waved back. Most looked terrified.
Wace opened his eyes.
‘You came to us,’ he said.
Daiyu turned slowly to face him. They could see right through her, to Wace kneeling behind her, smiling through his tears.
‘Thank you,’ Wace told her, through a sob. ‘I don’t call you back for selfish reasons, you know that… although seeing you…’
He swallowed.
‘Daiyu,’ he whispered, ‘are they ready?’
Daiyu turned slowly back to face the crowd. Her eyes travelled over the recruits. She smiled and nodded.
‘I thought so,’ said Wace. ‘Go well, little one.’
Daiyu raised a hand to her mouth and appeared to blow a kiss to the recruits. Slowly, she began to fade from sight, until for a brief moment only her face shone in the darkness. Then she vanished.
The watchers were utterly still. Nobody spoke, nobody turned to their neighbour to talk of what they’d just seen. Wace got to his feet, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his robe.
‘She returns from Paradise when she knows we need her. She humours her foolish Papa J. She realises you’re too special to let slip away. Now,’ said Wace quietly, ‘please follow me to temple.’
35
Nine at the top…
One attains the way of heaven.
The I Ching or Book of Changes