Though shaken and afraid, he was also pulled fiercely by the ecstasy. Moreover, he could not allow his fear to overcome him, he who had boasted that he had never feared anything.
He closed his right eye and was again in space in the same “location.” Again, he was hurtling through space, far swifter than light, toward the sun. Again, he felt the innumerable presences behind him. The star swam up, grew larger, became vast, and he saw that the flames were composed of trillions upon trillions upon trillions of souls.
Then he heard a soundless cry, one of unutterable ecstasy and welcome, and he plunged headfirst into the sun, the swarm, and he was nothing and yet everything. Then, he wasn’t he any more. He was something which had no parts and was not a part but was one with the ecstasy, with the others who were not others.
He gave a great cry and opened his eye. There were Alice and Nur and Frigate and his companions staring at him from the doorway. Trembling, he went to them through the bubbles. He was not so upset, however, that he did not notice that the Sumerian was missing nor that Alice was weeping.
He ignored their questions, saying, “Where’s Gilgamesh?”
“He died on the way up,” Alice said.
“We left him sitting in the chair in a room,” Nur said. “He must have had a brain concussion.”
“I killed him!” Alice said, and she sobbed.
“I’m sorry for that,” Burton said, “but it couldn’t be helped. If he was innocent, he shouldn’t have resisted. Perhaps he really was an agent.”
He put his arms around Alice and said, “You did what you had to do. If you hadn’t, he might’ve killed me.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve killed before, but those people were strangers attacking us. I liked Gilgamesh, and now…”
Burton thought it was best to allow her to weep out her guilt and grief. He released her and turned to the others. Nur asked him what he had been doing in the room. He told them of the lens.
“You must’ve been standing there for at least an hour,”
Frigate said.
“Yes, I know, but the state seemed to last only a minute.”
“What about the aftereffects?” Nur said.
Burton hesitated, then said, “Apart from being shaken up, I feel… I feel… a tremendous closeness to all of you! Oh, I’ve been fond of some of you, but… now… I love all of you!”
“That must’ve been a shock,” Frigate murmured. Burton ignored him.
The Moor held up the multifaceted device and looked through it with his right eye closed.
“I see nothing. It has to be fitted next to the eye.”
Burton said, “I thought that the lens was something which only the chief of the twelve, Thanabur, would wear. I presumed that it was some sort of ritual token or emblem of leadership, something traditional. I may’ve been wrong. Perhaps everybody took a turn wearing it during the Council meetings. It may be that the lens gave all of them a feeling such as I had, a closeness and love for everybody in the room.”
“In which case, X was able to overcome that feeling,” Tai-Peng said.
“What I don’t understand,” Burton said, “is why the lens put me into a trance yet didn’t seem to affect Thanabur.”
“Perhaps,” Nur said, “the Councilors were used to it. After wearing it many times, they got only a mild effect from it.”
Nur fitted the lens under his eyelids and shut his right eye. Immediately, his face took on an expression of ecstasy, though his body remained motionless. When two minutes had passed, Burton shook the Moor by the shoulder. Nur came out of his trance and began weeping. But when he’d recovered and had taken the lens out, he said, “It does induce a state similar to that which the saints have attempted to describe.”
He handed the lens to Burton.
“But it’s a false state brought about by an artificial thing. It’s not the true state. That can only be attained by spiritual development.”
Some of the others wanted to try. Burton said, “Later. We may have used up time we sorely need. We have to find X before he finds us.”