Daimones

Questions with No Answers

The dictionary defines a “deviant” as someone who "does not fit the conventions, ethical or behavioral, or social expectations of the group or the society in which he lives.” Did we reach the point where our conventions and beliefs faltered? What were our social expectations?

Ethics, right and wrong behaviors, social good and wisdom, its acceptance and refusal, all come from interacting with others. One has to confer with others on these things. How do we understand, know about them? How do we judge when we talk about what is right and what is wrong? Can moral judgments be objectively true? Do they depend on historical beliefs, or must they suit the world we now live in? Were the Spartans righteous when they left disabled babies to die on Mount Taigeto? Or the Romans when they flung traitors from the Tarpeian Rock to their deaths?

What were now the evident features of the world, those of our time? Human population had practically disappeared, culled and purged by external entities who appeared to our senses as humanoid figures, glowing in nature and difficult to distinguish from one another. Most probably, humans were now so few and scattered that small groups would need to grow significantly from within before the chance to interact with other communities could ever materialize in the future.

If our primary objective and duty was not to give up and disappear, like a blink in the planet's existence, then we needed to reinvent ourselves from the ground up. Were these not God’s holy words: “That in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying, I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven.” Was there a new start? Was this the age to come? If so, what would be our role and destiny?

As for the entities—apart from the seemingly obvious role of being our executioners—what was their role in our future, and what did we need to wait for? Had I understood them correctly? Was I coming too early, was it too soon for them to deal with me, with us? Did they have expectations for us, and were we fulfilling them? And what if we weren’t…?

Whatever our choices, did we deviate from the expected path? Deviance is far from being synonymous with freedom. I have wondered mercilessly if I was ever free in my choices, or was I simply reactive and a mere slave to my reactions? This is even more crucial an issue for younger ones, like Annah and Laura, because youth is the age of choices—important choices that may give a direction to one’s life or lead to another, terribly different one. Will they be given the time to make their own choices?

We thought about the directions our lives might take and the bubble of “normality” that we strived to maintain around us. What was normal or abnormal could not be derived from absolute ethics only or from the behavioral conventions of a society which was no more. We had the freedom to choose anew what was normal and ethical. Didn’t we? Could we?

What was freedom now, really? Was it, for example, not to be influenced by the education we had received? By the conventions and morals of the previous world? Certainly not. If that is the case, we shall never start to read our first book or learn from the experiences of others.

Instead, we can and must talk about freedom as coming from the multiplicity, variety, and quality of different influences that can break the chains of our own beliefs and convictions. Freedom is for the curious ones. Free is the one not influenced by taboos. Free is the one who reasons and evolves continuously, and refuses to accept anything without thinking.

Freedom is that which comes from knowledge, the freedom that comes from curiosity, the freedom that comes from the times when the first man did not refuse to look into a telescope and discovered other planets, the freedom that comes from those who tried relentlessly when all others said it was impossible. It is in this freedom that deviance has its roots.

Long live the freedom of those who have been derided or insulted—those who first thought photography was art, who first thought humans could fly (or even walk on the moon), those who dreamed about the future and made it our present. Freedom had always had an impact on the world.

What happened with Laura certainly had an impact on me if my head was now filled with all these confused ideas and thoughts.

***

Annah accepted our enlarged family as soon as she understood it would not undermine her parental role. Much later, the announcement that Laura was pregnant and Annah was going to have a little sister or brother made things even easier. Our family would grow.

For myself, that was also the trigger for not wanting to passively wait anymore for signals or events that might harshly affect our world as we knew it. To survive and adapt we needed to know what the entities had in store for us.

During those weeks, I hadn’t tried to get back in touch with the entities, or to contact them. Yes, I saw them a few other times and always at CERN. On every occasion, I had the sensation that I should not approach them any further. Again, the unspoken messages were received that it was too early and I obeyed. Retreating every time, yet feeling increasingly distressed and finding it a more difficult thing to do.

I didn’t share those encounters with the family, which now fully included Laura. I couldn’t think of us all as “free” when we could be just entertaining specimens of a disappearing species, part of a short-term experiment soon to be concluded when they grew tired of observing us, specimens that could be discarded on a whim. So, whether or not it was the right time for those entities, it soon became the right time for myself.

“I have seen them, Mary. Again,” I said one afternoon.

Astonished stares greeted my words. Laura didn’t know yet about my childhood experience with one of the entities; it was time to tell her, too. She listened to my explanation with growing amazement.

She asked Mary, “Did you know that?”

“Dan told me only very recently, and I was as shocked as you are. He’s probably right. This is not something that happened or was decided abruptly.”

“And what do you think?” Laura asked Mary.

One of the problems of polygyny I learned from direct experience is that wives tend to talk to each other, and to support each other in all moments. Sometimes it grew a bit irritating, but I never expressed my feelings or complained about it directly.

I interjected. “I believe we must be part of something bigger, a larger plan.” I paused. “Besides, you’re pregnant, and in a few months we’ll need to get ready for your delivery. Maybe it’s better to know now than later.”

“What do we do if…” Laura did not finish the phrase; we all understood what she meant.

“I don’t think they’ll harm me.” I replied quickly. “They've had plenty of occasions to do that. Laura, we cannot continue pretending they are not here.” I reminded them about Michael and his group in New York and that, as far as we knew, they had not been bothered either.

“As far as we know…” Laura stressed.

We reached a status quo where our lives were rather stable and secure. It was tempting to continue to be ignored, to continue ignoring. Very tempting to continue to live our lives undisturbed. At the same time, the knowledge that I could communicate with them, in some way, was paramount. From all that had happened, in the past and in the recent encounters, it seemed that it was not a hazard either. What became most disturbing was the rather passive attitude I had adopted lately.

Sure, I had in mind first and foremost everyone’s safety and, so far, everything had been just phenomenal for us. I was scared to lose what we had. Life surely would become more difficult for us in the near future, but for now…

Nature had gained ground and everything looked more primeval. Vegetation and weeds were growing where they had never been allowed to before. Little wild animals had conquered more spaces. But apart from this? Nothing dangerous or disturbing. Actually, it was astonishing to see how a few months with no human activities had turned everything into a more rugged and rough scenario, and a more natural one, too. Taxi and Tarantula enjoyed that more than any of us. In the explorations of our vast territory, they loved hunting hares and rabbits found in our own neighborhood. No need to go into the woods anymore; the woods were coming to us.

But we were not alone and that was the strident note. It was not just us and the planet, us learning to share our space with the rest of all familiar living things. They, either visible or invisible, were a burden, a fearfully heavy presence. I could not ignore the fact they existed. We couldn’t ignore them. They were the only ones from whom we could receive answers and understand what had been our fate and why.

Okay, I admit it. Although when near them I experienced a surreal calm, I was scared afterwards and lived in fear of them. If they wanted to, I was sure they could end my life in no time just as they had all the others. I could be a nuisance or would soon become one. Who did I think I was to believe I was important to them? Maybe there were thousands like me in the world right now, some even better than I was in their eyes. I had no clue. It was all supposition, a rough guess that I was somehow needed. I had nothing really to support that, apart from the fact that they had paid a visit to me when I was a child. I had no directions. Stalemate.

Even when I used to play chess, I hated stalemate situations. I preferred to risk losing a game rather than aiming for or accepting a stalemate. I had the impression that the game was a failure if it ended as such. It had been years since I played my last chess game with a human being. I wasn’t particularly good, but I wasn’t particularly bad either as I was able to provide enjoyable chess games. However, the one I played with our glowing wardens wasn’t particularly enjoyable, at least for me. It was a stalemate, and I had to break it.

***

From what Michael wrote about the entities, we could not hide from them. Somehow, no matter how concealed a human would be, it seemed impossible to stay out of their sight. That made the initial idea of having Mary come with me out of the question. I would have exposed her to an unnecessary risk. And Laura was pregnant so she was excluded, too.

Besides, Michael fired at them without any discernible and tangible result. What could Mary do then? No, better to confront them alone, and hope they had no reason to get rid of me, an annoying lower life form. I knew it had to be done, but how and when? Yes, we got scared just thinking of it. Scared to do it, scared not to do it. A stalemate to be broken.

We spent days pretending everything was fine and we could see from each other’s eyes that we thought about it all the time.

No doubt, I felt like the luckiest man on Earth and I probably was. We had reasonable prospects to live a comfortable life. I had the love of two women and my daughter. It was enviable, but we kept forgetting one factor. A fundamental one that urged me to break the stalemate rapidly: Annah and a new child on the way.

Annah had started to hit some limits in her life. Growing up, it was inevitable. What chance did she have to live her life to its fullest? Very small. These were her concerns, and they took root in her and sapped her spirit. She was thirteen then, and she pictured a lonely future for herself. Living long enough to see us all dying and, in the end, taking care of the new child Laura carried. In Annah's teenaged eyes, we were already old and our death was imminent and impending in her mind.

Regardless, to her, she was heading inexorably toward loneliness, a future she started to fear as worthless and scary. I took care to spend time alone with her whenever possible, even just for a leisurely stroll together with the dogs. That day we were talking about the baby. Possible names, which of her toys she could give him or her...then, her mood suddenly and abruptly worsened.

“Dad, do you think I'm pretty?” she asked with a smile, but then her face became serious. “Never mind, I will never be in love anyway.”

In a normal world, I would know what to say to reassure her. I would talk about the fears of first loves and first discoveries, when a single look is strong enough to make you blush or bring you joy and hope. When a smile is large enough to promise all mysteries will be revealed, the pains and the strong emotions, the warm fuzzes of first loves. But there and then? How could I tell my daughter about falling in love, finding a young man who would cherish her more than his own life, and that she will one day feel the same immense happiness I felt when she was born? Annah's words—I will never be in love—hit me like a hammer blow.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know and you don’t know. I can’t tell when it will happen, but it will happen.” My heartbeat accelerated. “I know we are not the only ones alive, but your life will follow other paths than mine or your mom’s. I’d be lying to you if I told you any differently.”

“There’s no one, Dad. You tried, Laura is trying, there’s no one. Mom has you, even Laura now has you. There’s no one for me.”

“Annah. We will always be here for you.”

I regretted saying it immediately when she cried out, “Dad! Don’t treat me like a baby. I am thirteen. It’s not that. I am talking about being together, having my own life one day. I will never have what you have...you, Mom, Laura.” She paused. “And she even said she wanted to be my big sister.”

Annah burst into tears and walked away from me. I knew all too well what she meant, and that it would be more and more hurtful growing up. She did not deserve that.

I reached her and grabbed her by her shoulders. I looked into her eyes. “Annah! Annah…Laura loves you, and you know it. This is not the end of it. There are others, and I will find them. We’ll find others. There must be others. It will take time but I will find them.”

“How can you know for sure, Dad? How?”

I sighed. “It has to be, Annah. It has to be…” But then it was impossible for me to look at my daughter.

There was no way to know unless I confronted them. If I met them years before, as I had, who knows how long they'd already been among us—watching, testing us, getting ready for what happened. Maybe, I was not the only one they had visited in the past; maybe, we were part of something much bigger. It had to be, I truly believed it had to be. I needed to hope it was. Otherwise, everything would have been meaningless, cruel, and mindless.

What I hadn’t considered was that sparing us could've arisen from a mere lack of concern, as when a boy stomps on an ant hill and destroys everything, just to see what happens. He kills most of the ants, disregarding those still alive, digging up the underground lair to discover the inner chambers, smashing the larvae. He’s interested for a while, then leaves behind havoc and destruction without any additional thoughts about the struggling few left.

Were we like ants to them? It couldn't be. They had spoken to me. One appeared in front of me when I was a child. I’m no ant! I’m no ant! I repeated the phrase in an attempt to convince myself there was going to be continuity, a new start. For Annah, even for us as a race.

I returned home with a somber Annah, but with a firm resolution. I took Mary and Laura aside. They did not like the idea of having me out there at night, chasing those entities, but they couldn’t think of any different plan or how to make me change plans.

“So you would rather stay put and wait, living in doubt? We have found our golden cage, is that it?” I asked.

Mary shook her head. “Aren’t you thinking about Laura? She’s pregnant, Dan. What if something happens to you?”

“Mary, what if anything happens to you, or Laura, and Annah? What if anything happens to any of us? Then it is over. The end of everything. Everything, Mary. Is that what you are wishing for us? I don’t.” I took a deep breath. “I cannot believe you could picture that for us. And the children? They have no future: We will not live forever, Mary. What will happen to Annah and the baby? Mary, we cannot live this way.”

Then, I said it. “I think they did something to my brain when I was a child. A preparation for these times.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I can talk to them. Communicate, rather.”

“What?” Mary and Laura responded at almost the same time.

I told them what happened to my tinnitus in their presence; that I felt thoughts forming in my head. Not like real voices, but they were patently not my thoughts.

“Maybe it’s deeper than that. I can't explain it any better. I never experienced telepathy, but I think that's probably what it is. My senses are not involved, something else is at play.” I took a deep breath. “I mean, this is beyond everything imaginable, Mary. I am not scared about myself, you know me. I hesitated because of you all, but there is no more time to waste.”

I told them about the discussion I had with Annah. She was the future; the baby Laura carried in her womb was the future. We had to know for them, what future were we going to send them to? Maybe to no future at all, but at least we would try to do something about it. I would chase those entities and, this time, I would not back off quietly like an obedient and scared puppy.

We spent the whole night together, something that had never happened before. I could not leave either of my women alone. The next day, no one mentioned what we had talked about even as I prepared myself to spend the following nights away. I didn’t know how long it would take, because the entities were not at CERN on a regular basis.

If not CERN, maybe they were attracted by other technology sites, too? There were a couple electrical plants not too far from the lab and bio-med firms were established in the region. There was also a reactor facility at the EPFL, the technology institute in Lausanne, and there was the Superphenix reactor in nearby France. It was shut down then but the nearby Bugey nuclear plant was probably still active, and only some twenty-five miles away from Geneva. I would travel there, too. I only had to hope that, now that I wanted to find them, they would not hide from me.

That same evening I kissed my girls goodbye, ensured they were safe, and left. Not that it was easy to leave, though, as there were unanswered questions in their eyes. Annah didn’t know all the details but knew or understood I was leaving to keep my promise to her, to find other people, and that was enough. Mary and Laura listened to all my reasons and reassurances and tried to show they were strong, but their eyes betrayed them. They looked at me as if it was going to be our last time. Taxi and Tarantula would stay home with them, of course.

“I will be back. I am only spending the night out, then tomorrow I will be home. Don’t worry.”

Their smiles were forced. And, in my heart, I knew it would have been too much to hope for, that all I needed was to spend one more night at CERN. I actually thought it was useless, that they would rather show up when they decided to. But the stalemate had to be broken, one way or another.

***

I reached CERN and spent the night there, visiting all experimental areas and workshops...waiting. Thinking hard “I’m here,” yet feeling stupid all the same. Nothing happened; I saw no one, no glowing, no lights. While exploring the site more thoroughly, I found other corpses. Judging from their clothing and general appearance, some must have been young Ph.D. students working on their theses.

What a waste of lives and talents. With some distress, I fought away images of an enormous foot stomping on the human ant lair we were. As with everyone else, they had been caught while busy at their own duties at the lab. Death had come suddenly and struck all at the same time.

People had died at their desks, in front of still-lit instruments, working at some detector prototype, or monitoring cryogenics. No one had time to run or hide. It had been so sudden. How? I wandered as a ghost among ghosts, all of them screaming at me, asking me to find out why they had to disappear. Their voices, myriads of voices, assaulted me like a swarm of angry bees: “Why?”

Worn out from a sleepless night, I got back home at the first light of day. Mary and Laura greeted me as if I had come back from war. I had little to share but the desolation and the emptiness I felt all night. I needed to rest, at least for a few hours. I took a shower that was unable to wake me up and crashed into bed.

Laura came to get me; lunch was ready. She sat on the bed and held me in her arms lovingly and, for a moment, she lulled me. Without knowing it, she repeated the same urging words Mary had told me before. “I cannot lose you. What would I do? We would not survive,” she said, and placed one hand on her belly.

I rested my hand on hers. “It won’t happen. I can’t explain it, but I’m sure it won’t happen.”

“Dan, we didn’t have time to say goodbye to anyone. To anyone, you understand?”

I nodded, and I had no words to console her. I wasn’t yet accustomed to our situation. I loved both Mary and Laura, and I couldn’t prevent myself from thinking about Laura when I was with Mary, and about Mary when I was with Laura. I had to tune my feelings properly so as to be fully with Laura when Laura was with me, and fully with Mary when alone with Mary. It was odd to be entirely with Laura and Mary when I was with both, every day, in every situation. Change, adapt, survive.

It was a warm June day and we planned to spend a restful afternoon together. I wanted to stay with all of them, breathing them in, playing with Annah and the dogs, caressing Laura’s womb and kissing Mary. I was hungry, and wanted to taste everything as if I had not much time left. “Oh, Lord, if you are there, make it so that nothing will be lost.” I didn’t know whether I had to say instead, “Oh gods, since you are there…” I wasn’t sure of Him alone anymore.

Evening came again, and again I got ready to spend one more sleepless night out. I headed back to the lab, for the third time now. And then, if unsuccessful as with the previous nights, the next day I would make the trip to the EPFL facility. The night would be very long, immeasurably so. It was not yet time to find sleep, and I could still hold out until the bright dawn. If only they could hear me speak, there or wherever I would be, about the human suffering they had caused. If only there was a chance for me to ward off this disgraceful devastation and have hope for a future.

I reached the lab, entering from the main gate. First, I again visited the places where I had seen them previously. There were no glowing lights anywhere. I wandered from one area to another in the faint luminosity of the sparse electric light poles. I never felt so much grief as during that particular night. There was possibly one thing worse than hostility: indifference. Had they left and returned to where they'd come from? Not now, not when it was time for everything to start over.

The entities didn’t show up and dawn came as an insult, a statement about our own insignificance. My heart was pounding and I felt as if they had killed us all again because of their indifference. “Not now,” resonated in my mind. But if not now, when? What had to happen before we were judged worthy again of consideration?

When dawn came, I wept. I wept because our fate was in the hands of those who had already decided our destiny, and had decided to kill billions of us. I found myself on my knees, tasting my own warm and salty tears.

The sky was clear, and I watched the sun rise over the mountains where a golden light had lingered before it appeared. In ancient times, it was the Sun god that granted another day to the mortals, renewing its promises. Now, who were the gods ruling our lives? I had deceived myself about surviving and changing. There was no adaptation in my efforts to continue. I was only delaying our demise.

Annah’s grief was a grief for us all. We had no future staying; we had no future leaving. One man, two women, a girl, and—soon—a newborn baby. These were not enough seeds for mankind's second chance.

I think I learned the true meaning of desperation that morning in June. I felt we had no hope, and that we were without options. Around us, the world was beautiful—it, too, indifferent to the fate of men. The valley was resplendent. Birds singing more than ever now that their songs were not interrupted by the harsh and inappropriate noises people arrogantly produced. And the birds sounded so happy.

It was hard to accept what had happened, and it always would be. I felt numb and had trouble believing that the massive loss of human life had really happened on a global scale. What if all that was left on the planet were a few small groups, like ours and Michael’s? If that were so, then everything would be accomplished and done in a few more years. The fate of men would be sealed under the watch of indifferent gods after having vented their rage on us. Emptiness, despair, yearning, and deep loneliness grabbed my heart and squeezed it.

The morning haze disappeared fast, and I had lost track of time. The sun was high in the sky so Mary and the others were surely awake by then. With a mourning soul I stood up, aching like an old man, and returned home.

***

Opening the gate, I felt guilt and anger over things I did or didn’t do. Guilt for whoever did nothing to prevent the deaths, even if there was nothing anyone could have done. Could I have imagined all this when I saw the entities as a child? Had anyone else seen them, too? Did someone know more?

Even if the devastation was nobody’s fault directly, I was angry and resentful. Angry at myself, and at God...and at Joe and Beth. At all who had died so easily and abandoned us. But I had no one to blame for what was done to us. I had no one to ask except the glowing gods that were not appearing anymore. I feared our own mortality, of having to endure life without Mary, Laura or Annah. And I feared the responsibilities we now faced alone.

The ladies had prepared for my return, setting up breakfast on the patio. How normal everything seemed, as if nothing had ever happened. They struggled to make everything cheerful. This was a catastrophe without any of the connotations of a catastrophe. I felt Mephistopheles wrapping his arm around my shoulders. Mary and Laura saw my distress and came to me, angst in their eyes. I stopped their questioning.

“I am fine. There’s no one, I saw no one, and I…”

I didn’t know how to continue. I must have looked dreadful. Laura took my hand and Mary surrounded my face with hers. She looked straight in my eyes, as she always did. “Dan, it’s not your fault. Maybe they’ll show up again.”

“Yes,” Laura said. “Don’t lose faith. If you do…”

I knew what Laura meant. If I gave up, what would happen to them? There were more ways for them to lose me than just physically. Probably more cruel ways than if anything fatal happened to me.

“You’re both right, but I’m tired. Maybe it’s just that.”

“Come now, rest a bit. You’re not alone, Dan. This is not a weight you need to carry on your shoulders alone.”

They both pulled me to a lawn chair and lovingly took care of me. I didn’t want to go inside. I wanted to have them and Annah around me; seeing them and listening to their chatting. Yes, I longed for noises, for things that broke the silence, a silence as heavy as lead. Tension and grief started to disappear, my tears became their tears, and they took my pain on them and dissolved it. Taxi and Tarantula approached and rested their heads on my lap.

After that, I fell asleep.