Journal Entry: 02:327:005 M24: (Kyra)

There are moments that only make sense in hindsight, moments that appear within the flow of the present and as quickly as they appear, take leave. There are also moments, for whatever reason, that alter the fabric of our lives unlike all the moments that came before. How and why, I do not understand nor do I feel I can claim to have orchestrated the moment or the change. I sit here now, in the peace and quiet of my quarters, only the glow of my slate and a few distant stars illuminating my room, and I wonder again, exactly what happened.

Those few witnesses, the ones still living that is, who I suppose is only Von, would tell a different story. Von claims he knows what he saw, but the eyes often conspire with the mind to deceive. I won’t deny his record of events has a literal truth, but like the calm surface of an unknown lake, what lies beneath is often a different matter. To see and to be, two different matters I say. So, let him have his truth if it fulfills a need only he can feel. Who am I to deny him the satisfaction of his view? For all I know, truth may lie more with his view than my own. Either way, his story or mine, at the end, just two stories, neither but a reflection of the myriad mirrors of our minds, distorted by time and distance, by desire and agenda, by past and future.

From the night they came in ones and twos; from east and west and north–of that there is no doubt. I glanced at Von, the last act of pure intent that I recall. I have never seen eyes communicate so much in just a look, but I knew he was spent and I knew that all that Papa had ever taught, all that he had ever cultivated in me, all that he had ever dreamed and hoped, that now was the harvest. Papa had sown. I would reap. What value the market would bear would be known to all, or I should say to Von and I, in a matter of moments. I still wonder at that thought. Years of preparation for the test of a single moment, life in the balance; yet, to say otherwise would contradict all that is agreed. Note to self: explore this idea of “moments” when time permits.

I remember standing as if in a dream. I could see and feel myself move, fluidly, and I suppose effortlessly, since I recall no more effort than a thought, as if, again, I had entered an altered state. To say I moved by willful intent, I cannot say. To say the night became darker than dark is recorded and I will not dispute the record. But let it be written here, from the corners of my eyes, arching upward and over my sight like a rainbow, I can honestly say I saw nothing other than a kaleidoscope of light.

But to say I saw is not accurate. My eyes were closed as surely as in a dream, so says Von and I concur. Upon this much we agree. The thin membrane of my eyelids, however, did not prevent me from seeing as I have never seen before. All before me became clear and when I say all, I mean all as surely as if I had eyes on the back of my head. I saw in the way of higher mind and not with the waves of physics. If I could be clearer I would, but I don’t know the words to describe an all-knowing sight that sees without seeing. This is not a metaphor. I know this sight and it is both of this world yet not of this world. Sight as Papa used to speak of, of which I never understood. Sight as Kieran has shown me on more than one occasion. I do not expect anyone reading this to understand without direct experience, as I did not understand, no matter how elegantly Papa tried to explain it, until I too bathe in the natural light unobstructed with the filters of language and image.

I felt my arms rise. Even now I do not recall intentionally raising them. But rise they did to the height of my shoulders and with my cape I cast a shadow over Von, which I know he won’t admit, but I knew he welcomed the cloak of my temperate shadow that gave comfort in the cold misty night. For the third time in my life I felt a warmth radiate from the center of my being, a warmth I’m reluctant to mention since I have no way of describing the feeling to anyone other than Papa or Kieran and neither of them are here to share in mutual understanding but I will say this: the warmth has a sound as much as a feel. What that sound is, I cannot say but there is a rhythm, a faintly familiar rhythm that if you felt it you would recognize it, you would want to float and swim and play as babies do in mothers arms in that sound without sound. Even now, I hear the silent echo of that warmth, and I wonder if I am touching it now or simply touching a memory and then too, close your ears Papa, I wonder if there is a difference.

I would like to say this warmth, this feeling, this rhythm is all good and wonderful but to say such would be to limit and in so limiting to perpetuate falsehood. To say the warmth was welcomed, of that I have mixed emotions. Without that warmth, I do not believe either I or Von would be here today. But the warmth is not of this world, although I know Papa would disagree with me. Yet, my memories of the iso ward, of Kieran, of the table where we sat and his hands extended to hold mine and the cuts and wounds that were healed in that instant tell me otherwise. But, as Von says, I am of this world, and I did manifest that warmth as no one else is able and therefore to say it is something other is not entirely true either. To say I don’t know is perhaps the greatest truth I can share.

So where does that put me? Am I a conduit between two worlds? Are my visions of Kieran and his continued presence in my life, of which I have told no one except for the one brief conversation with Mairi, are these visions real? Or am I losing my mind? Delusions of the mind trying to protect itself from further hurt? No one has asked me, but if they were, I could not say I have yet fully recovered from the coma. It is never far from my mind and the dreams or nightmares, well, they have remained a private matter that time and events have not allowed me to examine or exercise as the case may be. I had many experiences, of the mind or the spirit I cannot say, while I laid those many days. I have also not told anyone that while my physical self lay in stasis, my non-physical self, and I’ll leave it at that, was not. I saw and heard every conversation that happened and although I had and still have many reservations about this, I am forever grateful for the sincere love and concern the entire crew showed for my well being.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. These creatures from the dark, too numerous to count, dissolved into the light before my eyes; from certain death to an eerie quiet was but an instant. How? I don’t know. Where did they go? Don’t know that either. I opened my eyes and felt the light recede and I looked at Von and his eyes looked bigger than I had ever seen them. I reached down with my right hand and extended it to him and grasping my hand, he stood. He had the oddest look on his face and seemed unable to stop staring at me until a light broke the spell.

At this moment, we noticed a twirling light emerge from the rear of the compound and we knew. She was gone again, our disappointment tempered by pure exhaustion. Still, we entered the compound and searched like a bride looking for the diamond that had slipped from her engagement ring. With each empty room our anxiousness increased and what we knew to be true exerted itself beyond our ability to deny it. Our diamond would not be found here.

Then the call came. I still remember the voice. Not Trev’s but the second one.. He said his name was John, John Discovery, and he was here to help. Speaking of which, John is on his way to my quarters in a few minutes so I’ll end here for tonight’s entry.

Kyra turned the slate off and the soft green light slowly faded. She placed her slate on the top of her desk and walked over to the picture window that formed her forward wall and gazed down at the planet below. Mairi was still down there somewhere. They would find her and John would help.

Categories: Story, Kyra

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