Arhat

As her orgasm crested, her senses blanked and the Mantas were back, purest white against the dark velvet background, a galaxy dancing over millions of years. The music she heard faintly before was all around her and engulfed her in waves, singing through her veins and making her nerves vibrate sympathetically, transforming her. The fluids within her pulsed and convulsed; her stomach seemed to glow with heat that did not burn, did not consume her flesh. It seemed her hair flew free and her body drifted in the checkerboard with the squares of singing light. She tried to scream, but her scream turned into a song of infinite beauty she couldn't believe was coming from her mouth. Yesterday and tomorrow were lost in now.

Then all went dark. It was not a cold darkness, but soft and warm and accepting. A dot in the distance grew, and with the feeling of traveling through a tunnel at high speed, Buffy felt her body fly, naked, closer and closer until she passed through the light.

She was back in the bar. The TV was showing a unheard newscast; the bar was full of the people who were there when Mandy left with Bernie. Her Coke sat in front of her, her body sweltered, her clothes laid completely sodden on her skin.

The bartender came over to her with another soda, his eyes dancing. "You are one of the Blood," sounded in her mind, although not a word was spoken. She looked into his eyes incredulously, and the phrase repeated: "You are one of the Blood."

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

"You don't have to speak, I know what you're thinking," came the reply. "It's a long story. Are you ready for it?"

Taking a long drink from her glass, she drew in a long breath, and nodded her head. "How is it I understand you now?"

"You have seen my life, you have seen Nagreau, you have seen Paradise."

"Who are you and where do you come from?"

"I am the Bartender. I have worn many names, and none of them matter. My home is near here, and far away."

"Huh?"

" I am from a place now called Me'arat Kebbara."

"Kebara Cave? Over by Mount Carmel? One of the few sites where Neanderthals and Homo Sapiens lived at the same time? I've been there."

"I know. Yes."

"That's not far away. But nobody has lived there for millenia."

"You have seen my life almost to its beginning."

Buffy shook her head and looked into his eyes again. The flecks of the checkerboard still danced in his pupils, and she shuddered, her crotch growing moist again to her dismay. "I don't understand."

"I have lived a long life, longer than you can imagine."

"Well, people say I don't look my age."

"You have seen a small sample of my memories."

"You mean?"

"I come from Me'arat Kebbara. I came from that community, where humans and their elders lived together, sometimes in peace and sometimes in conflict."

"How? That's longer than recorded history, longer than humans have cultivated agriculture. How have you lived so long?"

"I'm not sure how or why, I just know it happened. You saw my teacher: Nagreau the wise, who lived from the dawning of his race until my time."

"What?"

"I've lived for millennia, seen the human race grow from almost the beginning. I knew northern Africa when it was grassland, the Black Sea when it was a freshwater lake, the four rivers of what was later called Eden, now lost under the Arabian Sea. I've seen the beginning of myths."

"Why me?"

"I have lived many lifetimes, and a few times I settled down to live a relatively normal life. Usually is was by a River: the Yangtze, the Ganges, the Euphrates, the Nile. At those times, in what are now called Cradles of Civilization, my descendants created new societies that advanced technology and learning. There were places I tried and failed: the Rhine, the Amazon, the Mississippi, the Don, the Lena. Over generations, blood lines thin out, kingdoms fall, knowledge is partly lost, and I retreat to live as a hermit. Another great change is coming, I can see the possibilities and it is time for me to forsake my hermitage. Sometimes when fallen bloodlines comes together, what you call recessive genes produce a special individual. You are such a person. It must be apparent to you: you have accomplished much easily, you are never sick, your memory is complete than anyone you know, you have extraordinary strength of body and will, you do not age."

"Well, my mother did age slowly, she could pass as a teenager until her hair turned grey, Dad always looked like a boy until his skin wrinkled in his 70s and I always thought it would happen to me someday soon."

"It will not. Your appearance will stay the same as long as you live."

"Wait a minute, how could you live for millennia? Even if you never got sick, odds are an accident would kill you sooner or later, even if a meteor fell from space. Are you indestructible?"

"No, I'm not, but I can recover from almost anything, regenerate limbs, outlast every famine, thaw from every freeze, cool off after every burning. I haven't tried jumping into a volcano or walking the ocean floor, and I don't think I'd survive decapitation, but otherwise I've awakened every morning."

Buffy shook her head again, and took a big drink from her last of her Coke as if it were a shot of whiskey. "Don't you get tired of life? Doesn't the parade of days get to be too much after a while? That's what some stories I've read indicate would happen to an immortal, that the memories would weigh you down until you couldn't take anymore."

"That's what my friend Siddhartha Gautama asked me one day under the Bodhi tree when the other Arhats were taking their afternoon nap. Jesus asked me that one night on the Sea of Galilee as well, and Mohammed asked it on a caravan trip between Medina and Damascus. No, I have learned the secret. Nagreau taught me how."

"Taught you what?"

"How to live for millennia without going insane. I've seen it in others, living beyond their years wears their minds down and erases their souls. They survive for a while, but sooner or later they find a way to end their existence. Others just tire of Samsara, learn to pass peacefully from this world to the one beyond and the world is less without them"

"There are others?"

"Yes. Not many, and we have grown fewer and fewer. I keep looking. You're the first I've found for 300 years."

"And it's about genes?"

"Yes. I have studied many times in many places, and technology today puts so much in one person's grasp. There have always been stories referring to us, distorted through time. Traditions of heroes, teachings of reincarnation, superhuman feats in times of trouble. All are about us. The Gospels tell of Peter asking Jesus about the Beloved Disciple, and Jesus said what if I want him to stay until I return."

"John 21:21-24"

"Very good. You must have studied the Bible at one time."

"Yes, I went to Sunday school when I was growing up. Got tired of the weekly rants about Jesus coming back to punish nasty sinners, and wanting us to accept Him as our Personal Savior so we wouldn't get burned. Didn't want anything to do with Rambo Jesus."

"Wise, and Rambo is the opposite of what he was. Have you heard the Genesis story of the Nephilim?"

"The fallen Angels, those without souls?"

"Yes. A memory of when we lived with the Neanderthals, they were the Nephilim. Just like Noah lived on the shores of the Black Sea before the waters came crashing through the Bosphorus and turned it salt. The Nephilim were wise yet flawed, beautiful and strong, living in harmony with each other, the world and all around them. They welcomed the younger race coming up from Africa, who were burnished by the sun until they met us. But they were unable to adapt to the changing world and their faith was not strong enough to make the crossing to Eternity peacefully. Their passing was a rage against the night, as Dylan Thomas spoke about in his wonderful poem, sad and tragic as their despair made them lash out at friend and foe alike. Nagreau was the only one who understood, and when he could not teach them the secrets, he taught me."

"The Bible says the Nephilim married the daughters of men, who bore them children."

"It's been a debated whether Neanderthals and Homo sapiens interbred. For the most part, no, there was a taboo, but on occasion it did happen. I think that's why our skins became lighter with the passing generations. I think that's part of the reason I am what I am: I think my teacher Nagreau was an ancestor of mine."

"You could answer so many questions about archeology, about history, tell us so many things. Why don't you?"

"It would not matter. How would this help the human race now? We are in a phase of forgetting, like so many times before when empires fell, we do not look back to discover how we came to this place in our history and take for granted all we have. The times may grow very dark indeed before long. Setting history right makes no difference to one who does not care, and even if it did, the perception of history, right or wrong, has made us who we are in such a profound way that rewriting it would destroy much of what has made us, and much we rightly rely on."

"Thanks a lot for writing off my life's work. I might as well pack up tomorrow."

"You will have another, don't worry. Your life until now has not been wasted. Return to your work if you wish; many will gain insight from what you find. That's a recurring sin of our race: making our identity from what we do rather than who we are. Your next journey is about embracing who you really are."

"Oh, I see. And when will that start?"

"Soon. You will know."

The sounds of the bar returned to Buffy's awareness, and the bartender moved to take a drink order. She sat back, and was trying to digest what she'd seen, felt and heard that night, mopping her sweat with countless napkins, when Mandy and Bernie returned through the door. Their hair was plastered awkwardly on their heads, wet, and they parted with a kiss, the hands reluctant to untwine. Mandy came back to where Buffy was sitting, a stupid, shit eating grin on her face, while Bernie took a pen and started writing on a napkin. "Hi, teach, how's it hanging?"

"I'm all right, Mandy. How was your assignation?"

"What? Oh, we had a wonderful time. Bernie's such a nice guy. We're going to meet again tomorrow afternoon for a picnic on Mount Carmel."

"That's nice. Finishing a seduction or bringing into the light what was in the dark?"

"Huh? It was so wonderful, Buffy, I can hardly believe it. We fucked like rabbits trying to repopulate the world. He's got a 12 inch cock, and God does he know how to use it. Never wanted it to end; I wanted him to fuck me up the ass, but he wouldn't do that for some odd reason. Said it's against his religion."

"'Hello young lovers, wherever you are/I hope your troubles are few. . .' So, do you think you got VD, pregnant or both?"

"Shut up, I didn't let him anything dangerous. After fucking me like a horse a while, I made him shoot his wad on my face and tits. He had so much sperm I couldn't believe it, shot after shot after shot. It was so yummy. Can't wait till tomorrow."

"That's nice, even though you're mixing your metaphors. I'm glad you got your itch scratched. Your skin is glowing, but it looks clean and smells a little salty."

"We took a dip in the sea to wash up."

"Then we better get back to our quarters so you can take a shower to wash the salt off your skin." Buffy took her money clip from her pocket to pay their tab, but the bartender smiled and shook his head, his dark eyes still dancing with flecks of light. Bernie waved as they left, passing the scrawled napkin, and they made their way back to their lodgings without incedent.

While Mandy took her shower, Buffy got out her laptop and surfed the Internet to find the references the bartender mentioned. Some of his stories sounded a bit fantastic, not accepted by the entire scientific community, but they weren't as wild as the alien stories. She pulled up a picture of Manta Rays migrating and the swirling checkerboard appeared before her again, the song strong in her ears. The vision was broken when Mandy came back in, naked and combing her wet hair. "Looks like I'm not the only one that got lucky tonight."

Buffy gave her a double take. "Oh yeah, I did a fivesome with those two middle aged couples at the bar. I laid down on the table and the two old guys double penetrated, and I had one of the ladies gumming on each tit. I was a regular sex buffet for them, and I came seventeen times before they covered me with love juice.." Mandy's shoulder dropped and she gave Buffy a withering look while tapping the floor with a bare foot. "What on earth do you mean?" Buffy continued: "I was just sitting in the bar while you were fornicating on the beach. Nothing happened."

"Your skin is glowing, and there's a look on your face I've never seen before. You seem relaxed and peaceful, at least, that's how it seemed when I came back to the bar and when I came in just now. Of course none of this has reached your mouth. You looked like you've been freshly fucked. As far as fornication goes, don't knock it if you haven't tried it."

Mandy took out her blow drier and switched it on. Buffy stripped and took her turn in the shower, dampening herself before switching off the water and lathering up. As she touched her crotch, she found it still damp with dew and it tingled as she touched it. The drier was turned off and the radio came on: Mandy usually slept listening to music on Radio Jordan. After rinsing off, Buffy stepped into her robe and went out to use the drier before going to bed.

She replayed the evening in her head, the sensations returning, and she tried to make sense of the conversation she had with the Bartender. There were so many gaps, so many unanswered questions. Was it all a dream? Mandy was already asleep, naked under a sheet, and Buffy put on the oversized t-shirt she slept in before joining her, turning away to douse the light.

As she lay trying to go to sleep, a Meat Loaf song came over the radio: a sweet ballad she remembered hearing once. Her eyes closed, and part of the lyrics reached her: "Give me all of your dreams/And let me go along on your way/Give me all of your prayers to sing/And I'll turn the night into the skylight of day/I got a taste of paradise/I'm never gonna let it slip away/I got a taste of paradise/It's all I really need to make me stay --Just like a child again." They made sense, but it didn't explain everything. The bartender talked about the past, about history, but Buddhism was about release from emotions and attachments, Christianity about leaving the past behind. "Heaven can wait/And all I got is time until the end of time/I wont look back/I wont look back/Let the altars shine" sounded, and she lay on her back, eyes open, trying to piece it together.

The Bartender's voice came back in her head: "You had a vision of why I stay, what keeps me going. The vision of what you saw. You had a taste of paradise. The future is already set, I can go anytime I want, and when I need strength to stay, I take a sip of the future to help with the present and the past. Heaven can wait, I am not done here."

"What about the past?" she answered. "What about the memories?"

"They are treasures, they are shrines, they are part of me. I visit them and I move on. Every new day is a gift, every new acquaintance a treasure, every new sensation a delight. I live in today as much as I can, my thirst has never been quenched yet. When the new day is not a gift, when my thirst is gone, I will make the journey to paradise."

The breeze from the fan made her nipples perk up beneath the sheet, and she dropped the covering to let more of her body heat escape. "Will I see you again?"

"Surely. Sooner or later. We have all of time; we are bound to come together again. You will learn to live the decades and centuries, I know it. Perhaps I will see you in a day, a month, a year, a decade. Perhaps we shall meet on a distant planet orbiting a distant star, and sip a new wine made from alien flora. You have the ability to see the vision whenever you want. Take a sip of the future when you need to, and it will all become clear."

She rolled over on her other side, watching the stars out the window as the spun above Mandy's sleeping form. They made a slower procession than the checkerboard of her vision, but their stateliness gave her peace until the brightening in the Eastern sky promised a new day. The birds started to sing, and the air flowing through the window took on a flavor she had never known before. Rising, she went outside, stripping off her t-shirt to meet the new day unclad like a child of Eden, smiling and hugging herself as the sun turned her skin reddish gold.

A month later, spells of morning nausea made her do something she had only done once before in her life, only this time the home pregnancy test changed color. She faxed her resignation to her university, put her awards, books and papers put into storage, and left her Ivory Tower life indefinitely for something completely different in another place under a new name.