Technocracy: EARTH, Part 2

That evening Terry was reading in his room. Or trying to do so. More homework, as a test crept closer in his English class. This was a novel about a family on the verge of falling apart.

“I don’t need you telling me what to do!” cried Daniel.

“You do so many stupid things it would be better if you listened!” cried Abigail.

“You’re the worst mother ever!” Daniel responded.

Mother. Terry put the book down and sighed, as a lonely emptiness bubbled to the fore of his heart. He had no memories of her. She had died when he was too young. And his father practically never talked about her. He remembered his grandfather telling him about her a few times, how she had loved to sing, and to garden. But the memories that mattered… that he craved. Memories of sights, sounds, smells, touches. He had none of those. It made his chest ache.

Shaking his head, Terry rose from his bed. He walked out of his room, out into the living room lit in a small and meager way by the lamp in the corner. His father was passed out on the couch, his empty bottle of liquor flat on the ground. Terry shook his head, copper brown eyes narrowing. Usually, when he found his father like this, he would drag him to his bed. But tonight, he just didn’t feel like it. Instead, he walked past his father to the front door, and unlocked it, stepping out into the air of the cool Spring night. There was no moon, and the stars were gleaming brightly overhead.

His father. Marin was probably right. His father, and the way he made Terry feel, were in the way. They kept him from connecting with his element.

“Maybe I can get beyond him,” Terry slowly said,

Breathing as inside his mind he struggled now to move

Thoughts and feelings outside of that in which he felt trapped,

And in that moment, that instant, he could strongly feel

A yearning for some other father, one not his own,

For a NEW father who’d love him as a father should.

In that moment he felt yearning, yearning for such love—

And his yearning opened up his heart for just a flash,

And his eyes blazed neon copper, gleaming neon brown

And the earth shook, and a ridge of rock burst up out of

The ground right in front of him, with sharpened rocky spikes

That reached out towards him with a quickness and a speed.

“Ah!” cried Terry, startled by the movement, jumping back

Back onto the sidewalk, which had cracked beneath his feet

And his eyes stopped glowing, as the brief moment was lost.

“Ah!” cried Terry again, gazing and gaping at the ridge of rock that had sprung up. He could not see it, but another swath of his hair had turned metallic, bronze-brown glint faintly reflecting the cold light of the stars above. But he could feel a splash of cold, clear brilliance running through his chest, like clean water. He had done it! Just for a moment!

Marin, Ardo, and Saera were coming to visit him tomorrow, since it was Saturday. Terry knew he could make progress tomorrow, could move forward. He suddenly, rapturously, had faith. He had more faith than he had possessed just moments ago. He was close. Closer than he could ever have thought.

Breathing out, feeling the cool, wonderful air in his lungs, Terry turned and headed back into the house. He didn’t bother to do anything about the ridge of rock. It wasn’t like his father would see it, given that his father never left the house.

The next afternoon, Terry leaned against the very ridge of rock that he had created in the night. He leaned there, waiting for his friends to arrive. He had his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans; meanwhile, he wore a white henley shirt, and his usual green field jacket over that.

Ardo arrived first. “Have a good time, principe!” cried Martha, waving to him as he hopped from the seat of the car, wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt colored red, though not the same red as his hair. He too was wearing blue jeans.

“I will, auntie!” said Ardo, waving and spinning to face her, only to spin back around and wave to Terry, in turn. “Yo!”

“Hey!” said Terry.

Ardo cocked his head to the side. “Did you make that rock, dude?”

“Uh, actually, I did,” said Terry, hopping off the ridge and letting Ardo see it in full.

Ardo’s crimson eyebrows rose. “You’re doing it. Awesome!”

No sooner had Ardo’s aunt’s car left than Saera’s mother’s car arrived, pulling up to the curb.

“Hello, boys!” said Aemelia, waving from the main seat. Saera swung from the car gently, lightly touching her shoes on the sidewalk. She was wearing a pair of white shorts and a pink short-sleeve blouse. “How are you all!”

“We’re fine, Miss A!” said Ardo.

“Hello!” said Terry, waving.

“Hello,” said Saera, smiling. A flicker of breeze ruffled her short white hair. She glanced o’er her shoulder. “I shall text when I’m ready to be picked up, Mama.”

“I know, sweetie. Have fun!” And Aemelia’s car pulled away, leaving the three of them alone.

“Marin should be along shortly. She was texting me just now,” said Saera. She glanced past the boys to the rocky protrusion. “Did you make that, Terry?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I did!”

Saera smiled. “Impressive.”

Sure enough, Bellona’s car pulled up within moments, and Marin burst in a surge of motion from the opening door. She was wearing a heather blue jumpsuit with white stripes; it looked to be made of linen, or cotton. Unlike the other three, who wore low-top tennis shoes, Marin was wearing sandals. “See you later, Mom!” she said, waving over her shoulder as she did.

“Have a good time, darling,” said Bellona. “Hello, you three! Have fun! It’s a nice day!”

“Yes, Ms. Meni,” said Saera.

“Thank you!” said Terry.

“Bye!” said Ardo.

Bellona’s car doors slid shut automatically. Then the self-driving car pulled away from the sidewalk, slipping back onto the street and driving away.

“Did you make that, Terry?” asked Marin, pointing at the ridge of rock.

“Oh, yeah, I did!” said Terry, smiling.

Marin’s sapphire blue eyes widened and sparkled. “You’re doing it! You’re going to get there. I know you will!” She smiled at him widely, hugely. Terry grinned back at her. All three of his friends would get so happy for him, but Marin seemed to get just a little bit happier for him than Saera and Ardo. He wondered if it had to do with that night, when they had shared their meal of fish in the woods.

Saera bent her pale body around to watch the car,

Watch it as it curved away and bended out of sight.

Then when it was gone she sighed, and suddenly the breeze

Blew and billowed, and Saera was lifted off the ground,

Lifted up, and so she hovered, just a foot or two

Off the ground. She hovered in the air effortlessly.

Terry glanced up at Saera, floating beside him. “You sure do like to do that.”

“I do,” said Saera, smiling, beaming at him. “It makes me feel good. It puts me at ease.”

“Well, come on,” said Ardo. “Let’s go, and let’s get going.” So they made their way around Terry’s house. Terry, Ardo, and Marin walked along, and Saera floated just beside them.

Terry was at the head. He always was, and always tended to be. Saera, floating beside them, could not help but notice. “Have you ever wondered why you lead us, Terry?”

“Hmm?” asked Terry, glancing over his shoulder. They stopped. They were at the edge of the trees, the looming grandeur of the woods and the forest just before them.

Saera hovered there, hands behind her back. She put her lips together and twitched her head to the side. “You are the one who always takes the lead. It is interesting. I don’t think we ever held a vote. You lead, and the rest of us follow.”

“Oh,” said Terry. “O-Oh, I, uh, I guess so.” His eyes did their shift from copper to bronze. “Is that a problem?”

“No way, man,” said Ardo. “You do a fuckton better of a job than I would.”

“I have no problem with it, either,” said Saera. “I merely am curious as to why. Just wondering out loud.”

“W-Well,” said Terry, wrapping his arms around himself. “Well, I don’t know.” He stared at them all, staring at him. “To be honest, I’m surprise by it too. I’ve never been any kind of, you know, leader. I just stayed by myself. I always have. But I don’t know. I really don’t. I never really asked you guys. I just…” he glanced upwards, the metallic bands of his brown hair catching the light. “I just kind of did.”

“Well you are connected to Earth,” said Marin. “Maybe you keep us grounded,” and she grinned as she said it.

“Pun aside,” said Saera, “that may be true. We are all a bit… loose. The three of us. Perhaps you do keep us grounded.”

“Hey,” said Terry. “Don’t be unfair to yourself, Saera. You’re very smart and practical, too.”

Saera drifted down, until her feet touched the green grass again. “I can be… cold. Distant. You are as smart as I am, but you press more closely to other people.”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” said Saera, silver eyes gleaming bright. “You understand people. You understand human beings. You understand them alone, and together. You know how to…” she waved her pale hand around, “shepherd us, I suppose. You make a good guide and leader.”

“What you’re saying,” said Ardo, with a raise of his crimson eyebrows, “is that Terry makes a good dad.”

“Oh!” said Terry. Watery, cold, clammy feelings washed over him, swelling and rising and falling through his limbs and spine. “Oh,” he said. He turned aside.

Ardo saw his distress and his ruby red eyes bulged. “Oh, no, dude, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know you didn’t,” said Terry. “I know that. You just made me think.” He put his hands at his sides. And to their great surprise, he actually laughed. “I guess I am a good dad. I’m kind of the dad of the group.”

“Interesting,” said Marin. “Your own dad’s not so great. We all know that. But you would definitely make a good dad. You’re better than him.”

Terry turned to her and smiled. “Thanks,” he said. He smiled wider. “Thanks so much!” But his face fell. “But I’m not… ready, you know? I feel like I’m not ready to be a dad, to have a family. I feel like there’s so much more I need to learn. And I haven’t really had anybody to teach me.”

As he stood there, as he stood there, lost in deepest thought,

Dust was rising round his feet; the other three could see.

“I wish that I had a better dad,” he said out loud.

“I wish that I had a dad to teach me how to be

Someone who could really look after the ones I love,

Someone who could be there for me, giving me their strength.”

“Terry, look down!” Marin said, as yet more rose the dust,

Billowing in brownish clouds that swirled about him now.

“Whoa!” said Terry, looking downward at the dust which rose.

As he did so his eyes glimmered, neon copper brown.

Then for a brief moment the dust formed a mighty cloud.

But his eyes then ceased to glow; the dust again died down.

“Ugh!” groaned Terry, snarling, kicking the dirt, gritting his teeth. “Every time I think I get closer, I miss it!” He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off fast away from them. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Terry, wait!” cried Saera. She began to move—

Marin put a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. “Let him go,” said Marin. “He needs to think about this.”

So the three of them stood there, watching, as Terry stood alone, beneath the blue sky, his boots in the dirt. He glared down hard at the ground beneath his feet. “What do you want from me?” he asked, staring at the dirt. “Why can’t we get together?” The bare dirt did not answer.

That night, Terry sat in his room.

He could hear his father, moaning, mumbling, ranting to himself as he sat on the couch in the family room, drinking liquor straight from the bottle. He knew it meant his father would pass out soon. He always got very talkative before he blacked out. Terry would probably have to help him to bed later.

“Or what if I don’t?” asked Terry, sitting up. He was wearing his boxers and nothing else, his pale, lean form somewhat chilly and clammy as the air conditioning ran a bit too hard. “What if I just let him lie there?” The temptation had grown and grown, the past few weeks.

The more that Terry had delved, deeper and deeper, into his time with his three friends, the more he had realized what an awful waste of time it was to put up with his father. He had loved Saera, Marin, and Ardo more than he could ever have imagined loving friends. He had never had good friends, but even he, in his fondest, happiest imaginings, over so many years, could never have dreamed of having friends this good. Friends that smiled. Friends that laughed. Friends that worried about him when he was sad, when he was angry, when he was sick, when he didn’t talk to them for a while. Friends that went out of their way to do nice things for him, totally unprompted. Friends that seemed to genuinely enjoy the fact that he existed, and that he was alive in the world. Friends whose families, in turn, were warm, happy, and loving, in such a contrast to his own.

Against that… in comparison to that… what did he think of his father? His father, who had never so much as shown him any physical affection? Had his father ever even hugged him? He couldn’t remember it. He remembered the slaps, the yelling, the insults, the drunken aggression. Actual affection, like when Marin hugged him, wasn’t there. Actual delight, like when Saera and he joyfully discussed a subject, wasn’t there. Actual warmth, like when Ardo clapped him a little too hard on the shoulder, wasn’t there. When Terry had had no friends at all, he had clung, desperately, to his father, like a man will cling to a broken piece of debris when lost at sea. But now that he was on dry land—not even just on dry land, but in a beautiful, verdant forest, or a field of flowers—why did he need the debris any more?

“Why?”

Terry asked himself that. The word rang out into the silence. And it was silence. Terry pricked his ears. His father’s voice had stopped. He surely had passed out. The house was quiet, dead. Empty. Silent.

And Terry, with a surge of longing in his heart, with a motion of his mind and his chest that he had not been planning at all, bounced off his bed and stood on his floor. He glanced up at the ceiling.

“I know You’re real,” said Terry. “I told Saera that. I don’t know anything about You, but I do think You’re real.” Terry’s eyes shifted from copper to bronze. “Can You be my father? My dad sucks. I want a new one. Can that be You?”

The silence of the house was absolute. Not even the air conditioner was loud; it had shut down, having done its job and cooled enough.

“And… and if You can be my dad,” said Terry, desperately grabbing his pale arm with a pale hand, “can You help me? I don’t know what to do. Marin, Saera, and Ardo have all connected with their elements. I can’t connect with Earth. I keep trying. I feel like I’m almost there. But I can’t do it.” Terry’s eyes stung at their corners. “I need help. Can You help me? Please?”

Suddenly arose amid the blackened air a SONG.

Terry heard it and cold thrills went racing up his spine.

Onward came the singing, sounding alien, strange, odd.

Onward, outward, like the peals of grinding metal wheels.

Terry heard it, and in his heart he knew it was his,

Knew it called to him, and that it called to him alone.

He knew also that it was outside, in the backyard,

Out amid the wilderness, amid the fields and trees.

Quickly Terry moved to his closet and dresser drawers.

He dressed in a white henley and also in brown pants,

And he pulled his boots on and his us’al field jacket.

Fully dressed he opened his room’s door, and crept outside.

He could see his father passed out, sure enough, upon

The couch, as the light of the lamp gleamed upon his form.

Terry barely paid him mind; he was fully asleep.

Instead Terry went to the front door, and opened it,

And he stepped outside into the chilly April night.

Once again the SINGING rose upon the cool night air.

Singing like the humming and vibration of metal.

He could hear it more clearly now that he was outside,

And it drew him round the house, out into the backyard.

It drew him across the springy grass, wet with its dew,

It drew him across the grass and towards the forest dark.

He passed underneath the trees and into the dark woods,

Boots pressing upon the wetted earth, leaving their prints.

A third time the SINGING rose, and it drew Terry on,

On into a space where the trees glimmered overhead,

But the ground was bare, and as Terry saw it, it glowed,

The ground GLOWED with lines of neon copper in its dirt,

And as Terry watched the ground collapsed before his eyes,

Tumbling downward and inward, deep into the earth,

Forming a ramp, a down-sloping passage in the ground.

Terry saw the ramp and saw the gleaming neon brown,

Neon copper brown lights leading down beneath the earth.

Terry realized what it meant. He walked onto the ramp.

Terry took the ramp downward, down, down into the earth,

Descending tens, dozens, hundreds of feet underground,

Wondering all of the time where he would wind up in,

For he kept descending downward, down into the earth,

Until the ramp ended at last, and he strode into

A great cavern—a deep cave, somewhere beneath the ground.

And the walls around him were aglow with neon brown,

Cracks and seeps and crevices were shining copper brown,

Glimmering with brilliant neon light, that lit his way.

“What is this?” asked Terry, turning roundward as he stood.

Turning slowly round as he stood, rooted in one place.

“Hello?” he called out, his loud voice muffled by the rock.

“Hello? Who’s there?” Terry asked, and once again there rose

Singing that sounded like metal vibrating in place.

Then the ground shook and the cracking of the rock was heard,

And Terry saw something loom forward out of the dark,

Something heavy, but that came into a flattened point,

Almost like the muzzle of a great big animal.

But this muzzle was made of great lines and veins of rock,

And amid its crags and cracks and veins there was the glow

Of neon copper, of gleaming neon copper brown,

That lit Terry’s face as the great rock muzzle approached,

Coming closer, closer, it made Terry balance upon

The balls of his feet as the great rock-thing rumbled close,

Rumbled close until it stopped mere inches from his face.

And Terry was not afraid. He knew just what it was.

“I know you,” he said, his voice so gentle, and so soft.

“You’re the one that I can’t get along with,” he went on.

“You’re the one that I keep wanting to get closer to,

But I can’t—we’re not there, and maybe that is my fault.

Because I have so much trouble swirling in my heart.”

Terry shoved his hands into his pockets. “My father,

It’s his fault. He makes me frightened of being too dear,

Too feeling. He’s taught me to shut all my feelings down.

So it’s hard for me to do what Marin has advised,

To open my heart up—it’s so hard for me,” he said.

The great rocky muzzle pulsed, its neon copper brown

Pulsed with veins of light, and once again the SINGING rose.

Terry realized that it was the vibrations that came

From the metal buried in the rock around him now.

It was singing that with urgency pierced to his heart,

Made him twitch with longing, and the rocky muzzle twitched,

Rumblings rising as the massive rock-thing bent upon

Him that much more, and still Terry did not feel afraid.

“Did He send you?” Terry asked up to the rocky thing.

“Did GOD send you to call out to me, because I asked?”

The rock muzzle twitched, and Terry knew within his heart

That the answer was affirmative; that it was “Yes.”

And then all that hardened stubborn reluctance to feel,

To be blazing, feeling, dreaming, finally was cracked.

“He’s real, isn’t He?” said Terry to the muzzled rock.

“I mean, I already believed, but He really did

Send you to me, now, to help me out,” he slowly said.

And across his mind there blazed a flash of bright insight.

“Wait a minute, He’s YOUR father, isn’t He?” he said.

“I mean, God created everything that ever was.

God created all the universe, including the

Earth itself, and all the dirt and rock there ever was.

God created Earth, so He’s your father, isn’t He?”

Forward swelled the rock-muzzle, and blazed with heavy light.

Terry smiled, warm and lovely feelings in his heart.

“I want Him to be my father too. I guess He is!

Since Marin says that she IS Water, that must mean I

Actually AM Earth. I AM Earth, right down to my core.

So if YOU’RE the Earth, and God is YOUR Father, that means

He’s my Father too… He is, He is!” Terry exclaimed.

The great muzzle of the rock was blazing with bright light,

Pulsing with the neon copper light amid its cracks.

Terry smiled firmly, and he stretched out his right hand.

“So, if we’re the same, let’s let Him be our Fathers both.

He’s your Father, He’s mine too, so let us both now be

Children of the same Father—and let’s be both one thing.”

The rock-muzzle hesitated just a moment more.

Then the neon copper brown lights pulsed along its length,

And it surged forward until it reached Terry’s right hand

Where it plunged itself into the outstretched hand, and then

It swallowed the hand in a great mass of rocks and dirt

A great mass that swallowed Terry’s arm and even more,

And the rock-muzzle dove itself onto Terry full,

Burying the tall pale boy in rock and dirt and dust

Submerging him fully in the stuff of the hard earth.

And the whole entire cavern all about them now

Gleamed abright with neon copper, glowing everywhere!

And the rock went breaking, cracking—the rock muzzle broke

And a massive pulse of rock erupted from the ground.

A great peak, a craggy spike, shot upwards to the sky,

Thundering as it pierced upwards through the heavy Earth.

And the great peak broke and burst into the cool night air!

It shot and it rose and burst, tearing aside the trees.

The great rising of the earth uprooted countless trees,

As it rose, like a small mountain, upwards from the woods,

Til it pierced the treeline and it basked amid the stars,

And the dust and dirt and rock went flying everywhere—

And then there upon the summit of the rocky spike

Terry stood, and smiled, and laughed! For he was wholly changed.

His hair had transformed, there was no speck of it that did

Not shine with the glimmering metallic brown, the bronze.

All his body’s hair gleamed metallic brown, and it shone

In the light that shone about him, for also his eyes

Gleamed a blazing neon copper, and what was the more,

From the eyes themselves there came out flecks and specks of light,

Flecks of neon copper brown were coming from his eyes

As though they were flecks of metal flaking off to fly.

And upon his head there was a smudge of dusty earth

Like ashes or dust, but it glowed neon copper brown

As it stood there, as the smudge sat there upon his brow,

And a halo of dark iron floated o’er his head,

Hung there, heavy, yet as light as air, and what was more

Great spikes and great chunks of metal hovered in the air

All around him, floating, thanks to magnetism’s pow’r.

Terry smiled—Terry laughed! Threw back his head and laughed!

“I feel… whole,” he said, and a great smile was on his face.

“It feels like I’m me, deep down, but somehow even MORE,

MORE of me than I could ever dream to be before!

No wonder Saera, Marin, and Ardo made such a

Big deal about this. I’ve never felt so good before!

It feels like there was a part of me I never knew

That I had before—but now I know it, and it’s mine!

It’s MINE, and I’ll keep it, and now I am whole, complete!”

And his copper eyes flecked off more gleaming neon sparks

Of neon brown copper, and he raised his arm, and then

His wrist twitched—and the earth QUAKED, and the whole earth did shake!

The whole earth did rock, in a way that was felt for miles.

Marin felt the earthquake, and she sat up in her bed,

In the darkness of her bedroom. And she smiled then.

“Terry!” she said, smiling, and she laughed there in the dark.

Ardo felt the earthquake, and he shot upright in bed.

He could feel it, and he knew what had made it at once.

“Terry!” he shouted. “Fuck yeah!” And he pumped both his fists.

Saera felt the earthquake, as she studied late at night,

As it rocked her pencils and her books off of her desk.

“Terry,” she said softly, and she smiled very small.