Epilogue
Note on Translation
The remainder of this account was written in one of the indigenous languages of Nahi. A composite of algorithms Lang3465bh and Lang5894je were used in the translation. Any incongruous words or phrases have been ignored by the routine. Details of the translation process can be found alongside the original unmodified text in the Hunion Archives on Nahi (reference number 478F1A55-EE8C-405C-B94C-C60344180E3B).
Nahi
I have no more need of this journal.
My thoughts are whole and my mission is clear. The puzzle is laid out before me, complete and solved. Yet still I write down these words – not because I am a creature of habit, but because there is a far greater and different purpose at hand.
This final entry is for you, Myria.
You should find my journal opened up to this page near your inner-garments which you folded neatly next to our crude sleeping arrangements, and you should also notice that I am writing these words in Nahese such that you can read them.
It was a wise decision to stay in the stable. Yes, the estate house would have been warmer and the mattresses softer, but I would not have wanted the last night we spent together to be marred by the tragedy that house has endured. Besides, we weren’t sleeping much anyway, and the hay is the color of your eyes.
You have much work to do on Nahi, and I am sure you will succeed since you are a headstrong woman (I mean this in a good way). You know enough of the morbid details to spread the news of how the hilma plant nearly destroyed your people - it should never be used in the same way again. Tell Chaliani to destroy the ample supply in the palace gardens. They are all poison – the work of Finn’s hands. As for any plantation you stumble upon, burn it to the ground.
My recommendation is to also send Seirsy and Lin back to the Still with the aid of some additional guardsmen. Even though the people there tend to use hilma for its direct effects, the old traditions could still be in place. Those three will be your ambassadors to the western shore.
As for Chaliani, please tell him that his friendship meant much to me. It was his faith in me that first let me trust myself. He was the first one (even before you) to recognize me as the person I have become.
I keep wondering about the dreams of the gardener. Not the one that I personally experienced when I landed on the Palm of the Father, but the ones written down in the book of the intercessors. It always confounded me why I never dreamt either of those stories as I came through the cloud, yet Chaliani always said that the man in them was me, or at least a possible me.
Now, after all this time, I believe I may have figured it out.
The first story of the gardener – the story of the man who chooses his future over his past - it is simply an interpreted version of a prior me and you. The core of it was just as real to them as our lives are real to us, but since they are both dead the truth has died with them. The intercessors who wrote the story down and who dreamt it are dead as well. Therefore we will never know how much of it is authentic and how much of it refashioned. No one will ever know. The lifeless version of me which I encountered on the beach and the frozen version of you who is buried on the palm of the father under thick snow - those are the only two who knew the truth. These pages of ancient text might only be a fable among the living, but it was most certainly a tragic reality for them.
So what really happened to them? Or I should say, what happened to us?
The only reasonable conclusion I can think of is that Finn somehow convinced me to leave with you. It was probably here on this very same estate with its secluded beach when he realized I would never agree to work with him. And so he tricked me, knowing that I was confused and did not know the consequences of going back through the CTC. He must have cut you on the wrist and put you in his innership, forcing me to make a decision: to either stay here and let you slowly bleed to death, or to pilot the innership back through the cloud to Cassidian, where modern and ample help awaited. From his standpoint he wanted both of us dead and gone with no evidence remaining. It was an elegant solution and I recognize the mark of his deceit in it.
Like the rudderless man in the story I must have blindly accepted his offer, too scared to let you go, and the second we flew through the cloud I simply died as my primary worldline took over. But you – you were alive, but barely – due to your bleeding wrist. Moments after impact when John came to you on the beach, you must have been so frightened and weak, so caught within the darkened wreckage of the ship and your confusion. So alone as you called out to me, seemingly in vain.
Yet little did you know that I would be blindly following your footsteps only moments later. It is something that Finn didn’t expect either; otherwise his plan would have succeeded.
As for the other dream – the one where the women wither on the beach and their hilma flowers grow brighter – it is obvious to me what this represents. The man clothed in white was Finn, or I should say the fake Finn. But I can certainly understand why the intercessors would misinterpret the dream and assume that this man was me. Finn and I were, after all, both gardeners.
So do you see now what has to happen? Yesterday, after we burned Akuli’s body I wandered towards his innership and activated it again, yet I only stood near it in silence as my mind wandered. Then I saw your beautiful reflection in its black curves and turned around, feigning happiness.
You were elated, of course, since you thought that the problem was solved and that there was nothing else to worry about. After all, Finn was dead and we were alive. We knew the cause of the Still, and we simply had to travel across the land and spread the good news. The pendulum had begun to swing back, and its movement was in your smile.
But your smile faded as you saw through my façade.
“What’s the matter?” you asked me.
“Nothing,” I said, waving off your concern as I tapped the perfect surface. “I’m just wondering what we should do with this.”
It was my first lie to you.
You kissed me then, and pulled me away with the sunshine and I forgot what I needed to do for only a moment.
But my dream is always there haunting me. Like the pink cloud of dust swirling above this planet, the dream of the gardener is never far away. All I need to do is raise my eyes to the Father Sea and I am reminded of my burden.
The problem is a simple one: even though we have dealt with Finn, the Hunion will continue to send others. I was meant to be a gardener, but they do not trust me - not after the way I left Cassidian – and so another one is almost surely on his way.
Perhaps he has arrived already.
Be wary of others. If another is already here, he will skin someone like Finn did, probably someone in a position of power. But once the cloud is destroyed, any present gardener will be forever estranged and most likely abandon his mission. Again, it is an unlikely scenario, but one that you still need to be aware of.
My point in all of this is not to cause you unnecessary worry, but to enlighten you on the threat you immediately face and why I must ultimately leave today. More than anything I wish to travel with you back to the palace in Nahi City and linger there, but I can’t wait any longer before doing what needs to be done. Each day that passes with the cloud hanging over your world, a cloud hangs over your future.
The only way to guarantee the salvation of Nahi is to destroy the cloud itself. It will cut forever the link between their time and ours, like the strings over a puppeteer’s marionettes. Your world will be left to grow on its own, and if and when you join the Hunion it will be on your own terms.
You will decide your own fate, as I have decided mine.
So this is where my dream begins.
When I finish writing these last few words I will place my journal down and rest my eyes on your body one last time, for many minutes until I hear the crow of the rooster. That resolute sound will remind me how I used to be imprisoned and how free I have become. That true freedom is not the capability to do whatever one wants to do (for then they simply become a prisoner to their own desires), but rather the capability to do what they should do.
I will kiss you on the cheek and inhale the scent of your hair, thinking that you are asleep, but you will call out to me drowsily. I will tell you that I am going for a walk.
The morning dew will be covering the tall grasses, bending them almost to the ground. Tsuru will see me as I walk through the curved path towards the beach and I will tell him to look after you. He will look at me strangely before nodding.
Once I reach the calm lake I will walk down the length of the beach, heading for the cross of stones. Nearing it confidently, I will reach out my hands and activate the ship and it will appear, the soothing voice calling out to me with my name.
Reclining into the pilot’s seat, the gullwing door will embrace me and I will sit in silence for a moment before telling the ship to start its ascent.
“I am sorry that I do not have any geospatial data available at the moment. As such I will be only able to give you basic-”
“It’s alright,” I will say calmly as the ship begins apologizing to me. “Switch to manual operation.” My hands will already be on the controls.
“Anon, please confirm before I switch to manual-”
“Confirmed,” I will say. The engines will already be humming as I feel myself smoothly rise off the ground, however I will not see anything through the clear windows as a sandstorm of my own manufacturing surrounds me. Quickly I understand what is happening and I will direct the ship’s controls to gain elevation quickly. Before long I will see the estate house and stable below me, the white scar of the sand, and the lake with its singular tree far away.
I will then see a woman running down the length of the beach.
It will be you. Your brown hair will be blowing in the makeshift breeze of the innership’s exhaust. The blue blanket which we slept on last night will be tightly wrapped around your midsection, and its corners will be flapping wildly.
Your arm will be shielded across your face to protect it from the flying grains of sand and as such I will not see the expression resting there. For many seconds – perhaps longer – I will hover in the morning sky above the estate house looking down at you, trying to see if you are crying or simply looking up in confusion.
In the end I will turn away, navigating the ship up until I can see the CTC cloud directly in front of me, clear and dense in color. The sky around me will darken and the stars will appear.
“Enable self-destruct mechanism,” I will say.
“Anon, can you please repeat-”
I will repeat myself calmly.
“Please confirm your understanding of the ramifications of this action. Self-destruction during flight will cause almost certain death.”
“I understand.”
“I will need you to again confirm this very unusual request.”
Looking sideways and down, I will see Nahi City far away, the bell towers and high walls glistening on the sundrenched mountainside. Above them are the five peaks and the white plateau between them. Frozen in time forever, the symbolic hand reaches ardently for the Father Sea, strong in its silence.
“Confirmed,” I will say, and the ship will start counting down in a disturbingly peaceful voice. It will tell me that I can cancel the sequence at any time – that all I would need to do is utter a simple word of denial. A mumbling of dissent.
But I will stay strong. I will stay silent.