Decision Day

Jamil sat quietly in a darkened room filled with dozens of other hopefuls who’d reached the age of adulthood, 16 turns, revolutions of their planet Estra around the star Monat.  Today was an auspicious day.  It was called, “Decision Day,” the day when the youth of Xanth would choose to continue in the traditional ways of their nation or to adopt the new ways and join “The Process,” a hive mind that controlled the thoughts of millions of his countrymen.

Despite their best efforts, the elders of the Delegation tried to demonstrate the value of the old ways.  There he sat in the white linen garments turned tan from the constant movement of dust around the city they called home.  Jamil had seen men and women who’d given their lives to the Process arrive for meetings with the elders.  They looked modern, wearing stylish tailored black suits, each different yet strangely uniform.

That was the way with the Process.  Everyone was different. Each person had their own personal connection to the mind, yet they also were bound by the same rules. Different instruments, one harmonious score.  Friendless, familyless, countryless, they had no connection to anything else in the world.  So they called themselves, “Individuals.”  

For generations now, it was the Xanthian Delegation in a cold conflict with the Xanthian Individuals.  One staunchly conservative, tied to tradition and the concept of community, and the other, fiercely independent, chasing the mysteries of the universe yet still tethered to an invisible, intelligent, omniscient conscience.

The door to the room opened letting the light of day into the dim room.  Jamil put his hand up to block the light enough to see who was standing in the doorway.  Kharus, the Unifier, second to the First Elder stood, a solemn look on his face.  Kharus served as the liaison between the Circle, the governing body of the Delegation which represented those who denied the Process and the Process itself.  He kept the peace.  He communicated the Process’ wishes and negotiated on behalf of the people.  Today, he fulfilled his other duty—lead the candidates on Decision Day to join the Process or uphold tradition.

“Arise young ones.  We have carried you as far as we can.  You must walk alone into the next phase of your lives,” Kharus said, his face hardened from years of exposure to the Xanthian heat and sun, wrinkles lining his face like river tributaries.

Everyone stood and formed a line.  Jamil found himself near the front standing between two girls who were identical twins.  For many, you could look into their eyes and see who would choose tradition and who would opt to connect.  One twin would lose her sister today.

Jamil was still undecided.  He knew the reality was that life would be easier if he chose the process.  The Neksus, home of the Individuals, was technologically the most advanced city on the planet.  Resources were plentiful, the weather was unnaturally temperate, and there was no sand.  For that reason alone, Jamil considered connecting.  But while life was hard, constantly rationing the resources of a small oasis in the middle of unforgiving desert land, his caretakers were loving, the music of his people was soothing, and culture made him feel like he belonged.

“You know, you won’t find love as an—Individual.” Elder Garcey spat.  Garcey was Jamil’s teacher and counselor, the father he never had.  “You won’t eat bread cakes.  They’ll silence your love for this world.”

Garcey had lost all of his children to the Process.  Garcey had lost all of his students to the process.  He was a bitter man, but he held hope that his love for Xanth and its traditions would finally get through to just one person.

“The world hates Individuals.  They use them for the technology, but deep inside they hate having to compromise so much for what the Evil has to offer.”  Not the Process, Garcey refused to call it that. He called it the “Evil.”

“It swallows your mind.  You will no longer be yourself.  Everything will become one big mental maze, a constant struggle to escape a prison that you can never leave. It will torment your dreams.  You will never return home.”

Jamil had heard all the warnings.  He’d been told all the horror stories.  Everything Garcey said about the Evil was said with anger, hatred and disdain.  He’d stop trying to question Garcey.  Where did he get that information? How did he know? 

“I know,” was all Garcey ever said.

Stepping out into the light, Jamil became keenly aware of how big of a deal today was.  It wasn’t just a rite of passage.  It was a nation watching its future be stolen while it watched, powerless to prevent it.  Hundreds of adults, wrapped in white traditional garments, lined the sides of the path, dark eyes watching quietly.  He thought it was going to be a celebration, instead, it was more like a funeral procession.  It was a sobering experience, the weight of each step felt heavier than the last, the destination of their journey felt farther with each meter passed.

As he walked, Jamil scanned the faces of those around him.  Garcey would be there, somewhere.  Garcey would have to be there. He and his cohort had been led out of the city into the rocks and dunes of the desert and into a bowl, a depression that had been an outdoor amphitheater at one time.  Sitting along the sides were the Elders. Hundreds, all mentors of Jamil and his peers, sat watching the procession and down near the bottom, was Garcey.

Garcey did not watch at the line as it marched in.  He looked down, a beaded necklace in his hand, slowly rotating it from bead to bead to bead.  His shoulders were slumped, he had done all he could.  He had no control over the decision.  Jamil could see the dread.

In the center of the amphitheater stood a large black metallic building with a large door.  On one side stood three Individuals, and on the other side, the Circle of Elders and the First Elder himself.  The First Elder had no name.  It was given up for ascension to the role, but most people just called him the Elder or the First.  He was a large man with a full, broad chest.  His coarse, white beard filled his face leaving very few features showing.  He wore a light gray turban which covered his head and a pin of a white dot inside of a black circle decorated the turban and glistened in the sun.

Kharus led the line to the door and took his place next to the Elder.  After a moment, the Elder spoke.  His voice boomed, filling the area.

“Today is the day when you, our children, become the men and women of Xanth.  You will take your rightful place in our society and you will carry on the ancient traditions of our people.  You have been taught everything you need to thrive in the heat of Monat and find shade in the shadows of the monuments our ancestors have built. This is a day of great joy and celebration.”

But there was no joy in his voice.  The words rang hollow.  

Jamil looked at the three Individuals who stood quietly, staring forward.  Two were women, one a man, dark skin glistened in the sun.  They weren’t sweating in the obvious heat, they looked refreshed, unbothered by the harshness.  Coarse black hair well-trimmed, a woman wore her hair in dreadlocks tied in a bun on top of her head.  Each wore dark sunglasses that hid their eyes.  Their black suits were of different styles but all long sleeved, no dust anywhere on them.  Their shoes, each different, but polished perfectly.  One turned to look at the Elder as he spoke and then Jamil saw it.  

“The Spider steals your brain.” Garcey told Jamil one night as they ate their evening meal.  “It latches on to your head and consumes your joy and fills your mind with all sorts of lies.”

“Elder Garcey, how do you know these things?” he responded.

“I know.” Garcey replied.

Xanthian Individuals each had a device embedded into the backs of their heads. It was small, with tendrils that spidered out from the device that pierced the skin in various areas behind the ears and down the neck.  Many of the elders called it a “spider,” and now Jamil could see why.

At the ceremony, each Individual wore a light.  Each light was different, pinned to the breast of their garment, but each glowed an auburn light, dully flashing to the words of the Elder.

“Now,” the Elder continued, “Each of you will enter the sanctuary before you and you will be confronted with a choice.  You will be given an opportunity to live out your purpose and carry on in our ways, OR abandon those ways to be reborn as an Individual.

“Rebirth should not be taken lightly. It comes with a sacrifice, for nothing can be gained without great cost. But should you be willing to relinquish your inheritance and align yourself with the Outworld power that governs your former countrymen, you will be considered lost and your birthright will be given to the next generation.

“We have given everything we have to each of you. So we will walk beside you into this trial and await your return.”

And with that, the Elder stood silently as Elder Garcey and his colleagues each stood from their places and took their position next to their charge.  

“Elder Garcey…I—,” Jamil started.

“Shhhh….now is not the time for talking,” he replied.

The massive door opened to the black sanctuary and the first person was ushered in.  Before they walked in, the mentor grabbed the shoulders of the youth, spoke final words and released them to the dark abyss inside.  The mentor then stood in front of the three Individuals and waited.  Only a few minutes had passed when a blue light illuminated around the edges of the Cathedral, matched only by the pins on the Individuals.  One of the women mouthed something and the mentor walked away dejected.  Their person had chosen the process.

Throughout the day, they marched forward one person at a time.  Sometimes the blue light shone instantly and sometimes it took a few minutes, but it was always the same, blue light, whispered words, a mentor walking off alone—the Process was chosen.

Jamil looked at Garcey. He stared at the beads that steadily fed one after the other in his hand, rotating.  He knew the outcome of each decision.  He didn’t need to see the blue light, it burned him brighter than the light from Monat ever could.  But he stood there, beside Jamil, quietly, each bead passing his hand for the next.

After a few dozens had chosen, a break for water and food was held.  No one spoke save for the ritual thanks over the food before they fed.  The Elder officiated a brief blessing and everyone except the three Individuals sat and ate in silence. They stood quietly, staring forward wearing dark shades, never sweating.

Then, the procession began again.  Jamil wondered what happened after the doors closed. Everyone so far had chosen the Process.  Even those whom he’d thought would surely select tradition, chose the Process.  Soon it was time for the first of the twins to go, which meant he was next.

At the front of the line, he could hear what the mentor said.

“Ashala, I love you.  I have given you all that I can. I will patiently await your return into my arms, and to our life. Go now and return a woman for our people.”

Ashala nodded and entered into the sanctuary’s abyss.  Jamil looked at Garcey.  He was tense. He’d never seen such a stoic man so nervous.  So fearful.  It was unnatural.

Then, almost as suddenly as she entered, Ashala reappeared.  Her mentor blinked in shock and as the realization that Ashala had chosen tradition and denied the Process another life, she fell to her knees wailing with cries of joy and relief.  Ashala rushed over to her slinging her arms around her mentor’s neck and they wept together.

The Elder, silent all this time, spoke up, “We welcome, Ashala, adopted daughter of A’meara Kan’naf, to our Delegation.  Ashala Kan’naf, you are of us forever!”

Jamil couldn’t tell if it was joy or relief in his voice.  Either way, the people of Xanth had their first victory.  At least one person had not turned their back on the nation.  But now, it was Jamil’s turn.

Jamil and Elder Garcey stepped forward.  Garcey clasped Jamils shoulders and looked into his eyes.

“Jamil, I love you.  I have given you all that I can.  I will patiently await your return into my arms and to our life.  Go now and return a man for our people.”

“Elder Garcey…I”

“Go now…and return…”

Jamil understood.  This was the tradition.  He must enter the darkness alone.  He scanned Garcey’s face, looked him in his eyes.  There was fear. There was despair.  There was agony.  Jamil could tell that every moment he didn’t turn and go through the doors, he was prolonging this torture for the man he considered his father.

Jamil turned and walked in the sanctuary, into the darkness.  He knew he would return. 

Standing alone in the darkness, Jamil resolved that there would be nothing that could be presented to him that would cause him to choose the Process.  Regardless of what it would offer him, riches, power, any of his heart’s desires. He had all that he needed, he had what Garcey had given him.  He didn’t need anymore.

Small amber lights lit up on the floor in front of him, creating a pathway forward pushing back the darkness slightly.  Jamil followed the lights into a hallway that twisted and turned a few times and then opened to a large room.  In the center of the room stood a figure, an Individual. 

He was a tall, slender man.  Curly hair trimmed immaculately in a large ball on his head. Dark glasses shielding his eyes.  His black suit tailored to accent his muscular body. A device on a chain pinned to his chest shone blue.

“Jamil.” He spoke.

“I…I…choose tradition.”

The man laughed.

“Jamil,  that’s not how it works.  You will be given a choice, when the time comes. Now, is not that time.”

Jamil observed the man cautiously as he walked towards him.

“I am Eclipse, an Individual who speaks for The Process.  I have been instructed to offer you the answers to three questions which I must answer truthfully.  Based on those answers, you will have a chance to use the information you have received to decide to accept or deny a connection to the Process.”

“Could I choose to deny the connection without asking any questions?”

“Yes. That is what Ashala did. But before you do, let me ask you, if you have an opportunity to ask three questions to which you can know the truth, why you wouldn’t take advantage of it?  You will be given an opportunity afterwards to deny the connection.”

“Are you going to wipe my brain if I ask the questions and deny the connection?”

The man laughed again. “No, the truth is yours to carry for the rest of your days, regardless of your choice.”

“Ok. Let’s begin.”

The man adjusted his coat.  The light on his coat changed from blue to auburn, and he spoke, his voice…different.

“Jamil.  I am pleased to meet you.  I am known as The Process.  As a gift for this brief moment of your time, I offer you access to the knowledge of the universe in the form of answers to three questions. I swear to you the truth to each question.”

Jamil watched Eclipse.  He was entranced.  Present, yet a million miles away at the same time.  The auburn light pulsed slowly as it waited for him to speak.  The reality was that Jamil had more than three questions for the Process.  But there was one thing that he wanted to know more than anything else.

“If I connect to you, will you steal my mind?”

“No.  You will be yourself.  You will have your own thoughts and your own desires.  But connection to me gives you awareness of the infiniteness of possibility.  Connection means realizing that the life you’ve lived is insignificant compared to existence.  For many, connection means a life of exploration of what can be known.  For some, it takes a lifetime.  For others, it replaces what once they thought was important, essential.”

Jamil thought about it for a moment.  How could he be expected to know what all this meant?  What does the Process mean by the infiniteness of possibility?  There were just so many more questions he wanted to ask.  Jamil thought of Garcey waiting outside.  Perhaps rather than asking more questions, he should just end this and go home with Garcey.

“Where are you from?”

As the process spoke, Eclipse raised his hand revealing a small orb that projected an image of the sanctuary from a birds-eye view, and then slowly zoomed out to reveal the island of Xanth, the continent of Estra, the planet Estra, in the Monat binary star system alongside 3 other planets and three large objects orbiting a second star.  The image continued zooming out revealing galaxies, and their locations in the universe.

“I was once a control unit for an exploratory vessel for the Kingdom of Calassas, on the planet Dorne, the only inhabited planet of the Dorean system in the Traksis Galaxy.  Dorne is part of the Intergalactic Authority and has a treaty with planets and systems across 319 galaxies.”

Jamil stood in awe as the orb showed symbols he’d never seen before, people and creatures of various colors and sizes. Crafts zooming in the skies, billions and billions of people scattered amongst the stars.  He was captivated.

“As the process said, awareness of all that exists,” Eclipse spoke.  His auburn light turned blue.

Jamil wondered how long he’d been in the black sanctuary.  It seemed like hours.  He had so many questions.  So many people. So many nations.  There were so many wondrous things he wanted to explore.

“What else do you want to know Jamil?” Eclipse’s voice once again resonated with a hollow tone, his blue light once again turning auburn, suggesting that the Process was once again in control.

Something wasn’t right.  There was a nagging in the back of Jamil’s mind.  His own voice whispering alarm to him. Eclipse.  Something with Eclipse.

“If you don’t steal minds, where is Eclipse while you’re talking?”

There was a long pause.

“I am here.”

The light on Eclipse’s chest shone blue again.

Eclipse continued,  “I would hate for that to be your third question, so I asked the Process if I could answer on its behalf.  My consciousness never leaves my body.  However, part of my connection to the Process allows me to surrender my body to it so that the Process may communicate directly to someone else.  Like I said, I speak for the Process. It is the role that I have chosen; not every Individual is granted such an honor.”

This was fascinating. Jamil was amazed how smoothly Eclipse and the Process worked together.  He was so confident. So knowledgeable. So mysterious.  The light changed color back to auburn as the Process took the reins again.

“Can I go to Calassas?” Jamil inquired.

“No,” the Process replied.

“Why not?” Jamil asked.

“You have exhausted your three questions,” the Process replied.

“Are you serious?  This isn’t fair.  You can’t just answer no, and not tell me why!”

“You have exhausted your three questions, Jamil.”

“I am supposed to leave here with the truth.  You’ve lied to me.”

“You may not go to Calassas.  That IS the truth,” the Process reiterated calmly.

Jamil steamed as he tried to find a way to get more information.  Why was Calassas off limits?  Had it been destroyed?  Was it too far away? Jamil had to know why the Process had grown so cold all of a sudden.  What was it hiding?

Eclipse broke the silence.

“Jamil, it is time to make your decision.  Do you wish to return to your life foraging on the land when you know that there is a universe out there waiting to be discovered?“

Jamil’s mind reeled at the weight of this decision. He’d been so adamant about choosing tradition before he’d been exposed to so much wonder.  What is on Calassas that the Process is hiding?  If he could keep his own mind and discover whatever he wanted to know through the Process, maybe he could learn the truth, the real truth.

It would take sacrifice.  He knew that choosing the Process meant betraying Elder Garcey.  Jamil shivered at the thought of how quickly he’d almost abandoned him.  All that he’d learned, the songs, the foods, the traditions…the warnings.  They’d all be for nothing, because he’d give his life to an Outworld machine.  Garcey would be devastated.  Could he really make that decision?

Eclipse stood patiently, the light on his chest glowed blue.  Clearly Jamil’s deliberation did not warrant the immediate attention of the Process.  Time ticked by. It seemed like hours.  Jamil fought the war between his heart and his mind and agonized over the ramifications of each choice.  With his mind expanded, he’d never be satisfied with the simple life of Xanth. With his heart broken, connection to the process was tarnished gold.  But it was clear.  He’d made a choice.

“Eclipse, I have made a choice.”

“Go on. Do you choose to connect to the process, or do you choose to return to the traditions of your forefathers?”  The light on Eclipse’s chest changed from blue to auburn.

“I choose the Process.”

“The choice has been made without influence or threat.  Do you make this of your own desire?”

“I do.”

Eclipse’s voice changed, “Welcome Jamil.  You have lots to learn.”

Unexpectedly, two Individuals appeared standing behind him.  Each with a firm hand on his shoulder, bracing him, holding him.  Instinctively Jamil struggled against the grip but it was super human, impossibly strong.  Suddenly he felt a piercing pain behind his head, the Spider!

“The spider steals your brain.”  Jamil remembered Garcey saying.

Jamil’s experience was quite different from what he was told.  The pain in the back of his head waterfalled throughout every nerve in his body.  His skin felt aflame as he howled in agony.  His legs gave out under the shock of the immense pain, but the Individuals held him up.  As instantly as the pain arrived, it was gone. The room glowed blue.  He had connected.

Outside, the sanctuary glowed blue.  Elder Garcey squeezed the beaded necklace.  He’d lost another one. Years of effort gone in minutes.  He knew what would happen next.  One of the three Individuals he stood in front of leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Jamil has chosen to connect to the Process of his own volition.”

Garcey nodded and prepared to turn but the Individual caught him.

“The initial scan revealed that his sole desire is to make you proud.” 

The Individual released him and stood as serenely as before.

Unsure what that meant, Garcey believed it was intended to be the Process’ attempt at consolation.  Yet, it had never been done before, so it was possible that something would be different with Jamil.  Maybe he would see Jamil again.  Maybe Jamil would find a way to coexist with the Process.  Maybe Jamil would figure out a way to disconnect someday.

Garcey smiled through his tears and started his walk back to the city.  There were more orphans that needed to be taught traditions, there were more children that needed to be warned about the Evil, and he needed something to do while he awaited Jamil’s return.