My nurse is a bat. I know that sounds strange but it’s true. Perhaps he’s not a bat after all, but he looks like one. He has trouble speaking. Something about his teeth. It’s almost like they don’t fit properly in his mouth. He tells me they don’t really belong to him. I’m not sure what to make of that.
His skin is charcoal gray, but in places it’s almost purple, like a number of very nasty bruises. His fingers are thick and stubby. The ends are bandaged, but they don’t seem to hurt him, except the last finger on his left hand. I’ve seen him wince at using that one. He doesn’t like when I notice, so I try to ignore it.
I think my description of him makes him sound ugly, but I don’t find him to be. He’s my caregiver and he is healing me. I get the sense it’s not his chosen profession, but something else important keeps him here.
I’m recovering, apparently. The thing is, I don’t remember what happened. When I asked they said I was poisoned. My bat tells me I was sick for days and that I had nightmares. Those are gone now. No one knows if I will get my memories back.
The other thing is, I can’t properly make out where I am. I have a suspicion, but when I ask they change the subject. They say I’m not ready yet. I don’t remember everything from my life before this place, but I do remember that bats are not usually nurses.
My bat comes in to check on me and I ask him to stay.
“I’m alone,” I say. “Isn’t there anyone to sit with me a few minutes? You said I can’t get up yet.”
“I can stay a short time,” he slurs around his teeth.
“Tell me where I am.”
“It isn’t time yet,” he says.
“Tell me something about you,” I say.
My bat looks sad but he says, “Yes. Alright. I have a story to tell. But you must let me tell it and not interrupt. And you must-” he clears his throat. He pauses then starts again.
“You must listen and remember that things change. The world changes. We change. The things in my story are true even if you don’t believe them.
I started life on another world. I know this sounds strange to you. If you want to keep listening as though I tell a work of fiction, you may. Just know that it is not a work of fiction to me. I did not look like I look now. I was small and furry and lived in a lovely swamp. At least I think it was lovely. It was a great many lifetimes ago. A small furry creature, I grew into a bigger hairless creature, as was customary for my kind. My days in the swamp were spent digging for food and industriously building tunnels in the muck. They never lasted long, but that was the way of tunnels. All my brethren knew the saying which in your language was something like ‘a tunnel is but a moment, a passing joy’. I can’t say it to you in our language. It’s not because I’ve forgotten. It’s because our language was not a spoken language. Nor was it a language of gestures. At the time it was of course, second nature to me how we spoke to one another. It’s only looking back that I see it as strange. You see, my kind spoke to one another (please do not laugh) by biting.”
At this I open my eyes a little but to my credit, I hope, I don’t laugh. I am tired and I was nearly asleep. Did he really say biting?
“Did you say-?”
“Yes. I said biting. Look, I tell you it does seem weird to me now too. However at the time it was perfectly natural. Spoken language then would have seemed absurd. We all got along in my swamp by biting one another hello, biting goodbye, biting my what a lovely day- I did ask you not to laugh. Well, you can laugh a little. I suppose it is a little funny.” My bat smiles, but a sad look creeps over his features as he continues.
“Well my brethren and I were not the only creatures on this world, and as I grew I decided on my profession at last. I wanted to be an anthropologist and learn something of other cultures. I decided I would try to make contact with the tall things. Perhaps you can see where this is going. The tall things of course talked like you and I do. But little did I know that. So I set off one day, found a friendly looking tall thing and bit hello. The tall thing was not happy. Actually it struck me. Hard. I believe it probably broke my spine. I didn’t last long after this. The last image I got before my death was the tall thing clutching its weapon.”
I am almost asleep now, but it does not escape me that my nurse has told me a story claiming to be a dead swamp creature. I drift and I wonder, is he putting me on?
I awake and it is night. My bat is gone again. I sit up carefully and try to move my legs. They have been still a long time but they still work. I push to my feet to cross the room but a wave of tiredness washes over me and I fall to the floor, upsetting something extremely metal and loud. Then my nurse is at the door. He scolds me for getting up.
“But I’ve been in here for ages. I want to wander,” I say.
“I will take you somewhere tomorrow,” says my nurse. “If you aren’t sleepy, perhaps it’s time for me to resume my story?
After my untimely death I went to the in-between place; the netherworld of shadows. There were other souls, always passing by, passing in and out of existence, but no recognition. All was just a hazy dimness and a hesitancy. My spirit did not sit still long and I soon found a new body to inhabit and begin a new life. I was different again, but this did not worry me. I had no reason to believe what I experienced was unique. In fact it wasn’t, but I alone seemed to remember the lives I’d lived. This all came clear to me much later.
My new life was as an ant in a colony. We lived in a nice red brick house, in a nice red brick. As I grew and aged I was eventually allowed to go outside with the foragers. Our job was to scout and bring back news of food and water. One fine day I was walking along the wall of our brick and noticed an opening in the wall of the world that hadn’t been there before. Curious, I went through it. The other side was very strange. The grass was short and gray. And after the grass, a stone that stretched on unendingly. And on both sides of the stone rose new walls of the world. One of the walls led to a very large very smooth cave. The walls inside the cave were also very smooth and very strange. Many of them had food glued to them. At the back of the cave was water. So naturally I ran back to the colony to tell them of what bounty I’d found. All the foragers began transferring food and water from the cave to our home. On my way out of the cave after a dozen or so trips, I noticed another tall thing. It was very like the other tall thing, only much taller and bigger. On my next trip into the cave the tall thing was still there. I ignored it just as all my colony-mates were doing. This would be, for many of us, our last trip to the cave. The tall thing must have been incredibly strong because suddenly it moved the cave wall and we were in darkness. The next thing that happened was a fantastically loud sound followed by a rush of water. The current was so strong all of us were swept up in it. The cave was sealed and filling with water. I tried frantically to cling to the cave walls but it was no use; they were even more slippery wet than they had been dry. There was no escape for us. My last moments were spent wondering about the tall thing that had sealed us inside our watery grave.”
“You tell riddles, but they are sad,” I say. “Ants in someone’s dishwasher isn’t it? I had this happen once. So many ants.”
My nurse looks pained for a moment. It’s clear I’ve upset him. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I try not to kill living things either. I think. It’s- still hard to remember things.”
“Don’t try too hard to remember. It will come back to you. Give it time,” he says, the words catching in his throat slightly.
“I don’t know your name,” I say. “What should I call you?”
“Call me Agra.” He says.
“What does it mean?” I say.
“It means regret.”
In the morning an attendant comes and checks on me. “Who is the nurse that sat with me last night?” I ask.
The attendant smiles at me very gently and says, “I think he should be the one to explain that to you himself when you are ready. And when he is.” Another thing I’m not ‘ready’ for yet. I sigh, feeling tired.
Later my bat returns to me. “What is this bandage on my arm?” I ask while he checks whatever vital signs they monitor.
“You were deeply cut there,” he says. He gently peels back the bandage to show me. It’s a long thin line nearly the length of my forearm but it looks more like a scratch than a cut. It must be almost healed I suppose. My nurse replaces the bandage with a fresh one after applying ointment to my cut. “Do you need anything? Are you in pain anywhere?”
“No,” I say, “but, Agra? I’d like it if you stay and tell me more of your strange riddles.”
Agra nods, “Yes. I have much more story to tell, but perhaps fewer riddles. I lived many lives on many worlds, each life taking me from place to place and from time to time, but after a while one thing kept coming back to me. That same tall thing was everywhere I went. And it was always around right at the end. Slowly I came to realize the tall thing was responsible for most of my deaths. I couldn’t understand why it was after me. Nothing I had ever done could warrant its tormenting me in this way- finding me each time just to end my life. Eventually I understood it to be evil. And one does not tolerate evil, I thought. One fights it.”
Here my bat stops and I can see he is upset. I wait for him to collect himself to go on.
“There was a life towards the end, which I lived as a moth. I loved the moon and worshipped it with all the other moths by keeping it always on my side. But tall things keep moons in their houses, and you cannot keep them on your side. Those moons cause us to spiral and crash. I followed such a moon into someone’s house. Once I realized where I was I tried to get out. I was pretty sure I was at an advantage, having more information than the other moths who didn’t remember any other lives. I knew I had to find a door and wait for it to open. As I flew I bumped into something huge in the darkness. Then I was swatted viciously sideways. The room filled with light and I could see my tall thing. You- I mean your kind, a thing very like you, had attacked me again.”
“I’m chilly,” I say. Agra smooths the blanket over me, and I am warm enough.
“You need to eat,” he says.
“Was your story finished?” I ask.
“Nearly. The tall thing had found me again and this time, just before its final blow killed me, I could hear it speaking. It said, “Reesah” over and over again, like a death chant. Reesah, reesah, reesah. From this point on I called it Reesah in my mind. And I decided, whatever it took, I would kill Reesah.”
My bat is silent for a long time after this. “Agra?” I say.
“You need to eat,” he says and hurries away. I can’t see his face. He returns with a plate of something hot I cannot identify. It tastes mild and sweet and I can’t finish it. I don’t notice I’ve fallen asleep until I startle awake suddenly. Agra is beside me with his arms out as if to catch me. He is panting.
“I’m ok,” I say shivering slightly.
“You did fall out of bed once,” he explains. “You had a nightmare and became tangled in the sheets. I caught you, but just barely. You gave me a fright then.”
I can see on his face he’s telling the truth. He looks frightened now.
“You said you would take me somewhere today,” I say.
“Yes. There’s a garden we can go out to. I’ll bring you out there and tell you more of my story.”
We go outside. It’s a beautiful day; warm with a slight breeze. There are trees blooming but I can’t remember if I’ve seen any like them before. “Your story?” I say.
“You don’t believe it’s true,” he says softly. I say nothing. I’m not sure how to respond. I open my mouth to speak, but he puts up his hand to signal my silence.
“Please,” he says. “I will tell my story first. Then you can reply however you want.” He sighs deeply before going on.
“The number of my lives yet to come grew shorter and I could feel myself ending. I knew I could never hope to attack Reesah on the side of the living. Always it was one step ahead of me. So each time I retreated to the netherworld I began looking for a way to escape it- a way other than a new body. It is a vast expanse, nearly unnavigable. But because I remembered I was finally able to do it. It is hard to describe but, in one corner, in one pocket of the netherworld there is a dim light. Dim and greenish. It was to this light that I traveled. That space was called Sanctuary. In Sanctuary it was dark, yet somehow a fierce blinding dark, and I could see things illuminated there with me. They were perfect things without shape yet without need of any shape. I was more shadow than shape, and to them I was nearly nothing. One of the perfect things addressed me saying, ‘this is Sanctuary. what do you come here for?’ And in that space without space, without air, without light, without lips or mouth, words felt as though I had to squeeze them from my very being. But I spoke saying ‘justice’. I croaked out the word in spite of my lack of a tongue, teeth or any lungs to provide the air that gives words life. And the perfect things said, ‘you have found the place of justice, therefore we will grant your request. you are the wronged, and it is your right to bring challenge. we will make you a space for challenge. but we cannot give you a physical body. that you must take from among the viled.'”
“The viled?” I say.
“Yes. The viled are the truly lost. In their lives they harmed and caused pain and destruction wantonly and without reason. Each time a creature like that returns to the netherworld it lands further and further out towards the edges. Eventually the viled lose the netherworld completely. Outside it, with no body they become nothing. As they lose themselves, viled tend to hold onto a physical object: a tooth or a claw, a piece of bone, a shred of skin. Perhaps they hope its physicality will shield them from disappearance. Who knows? The perfect things had set me the task of taking my body from things held by the viled. To achieve this I would have to fight them. Such a fight is hard to put in terms you will understand. Suffice it to say, it was very very difficult and I nearly gave up. But justice would be mine, so I told myself. Once the perfect things saw that I had made this body for myself they transported me to the Sanctuary. Not the in-between space, but the corresponding physical reality called Sanctuary. It was there I put my requirements to them. I needed a vault. It must be dim, not dark. And because Reesah needed to see what had been done to me, I requested a statue of Reesah. It was splendid and horrible. It was every incarnation of Reesah’s numerous murderous deeds. Arms and feet in the process of swatting, smacking, and stabbing. Everything was arranged. Reesah would know fear, then death.”
Agra stops again as though it is hard for him to continue. “I’m sorry,” he says at last. “I mean you to hear this. But I fear- No. I will tell my tale. My vault was ready. A cathedral to my anger- a monument to all my hate. While the perfect things sought Reesah for me I waited in the dimly lit vault.
The perfect things have rules for any challenge. First the complaint must be legitimate. Reesah was directly responsible for my multiple deaths. This was indisputable. Second I must make my charge verbally to the accused. Third, I could take no retribution against any but the accused. Fourth, as a consequence of my decision to subvert my reincarnations intentionally, this body would be my last.
Finally it was time. Reesah was transported through time and space and now stood in front of me.”
“What happened?” I say transfixed.
Agra tries to say something but falls silent. “What is it?” I ask. He shakes his head. He coughs several times, trying to clear his throat before beginning to speak again.
“I said, “Fear me, Reesah. My revenge is at hand. Do you recognize me?” But Reesah gave no hint of recognition. I pointed at the statue. “Do you see this thing? I accuse you of following me maliciously throughout my every life with the express purpose of causing my deaths. DO YOU DENY IT?” And Reesah said quaveringly, “I do deny this. What do you mean? When have we ever met before?” I was furious. I was insane with rage. I began reciting my every life, my every death, all caused by the same one person. As I went on my anger grew to a fever pitch. Reesah began to shake and show signs of deep fear bordering on terror. Then Reesah collapsed onto the ground. Fainted from fright I thought. My tormentor over all these many lifetimes was weak and spineless and pathetic. As I moved towards Reesah I could hear something being muttered. So Reesah was not unconscious. I moved closer, on my guard and realized Reesah was saying, “I did not know” over and over again. “WHAT?” I screamed. “Did not know??” “Did not know, did not know.” Again and again Reesah said this. It was beyond belief. Of course Reesah knew. Of course Reesah was guilty. I screamed aloud in fury at Reesah’s lie, and there was silence. Then something new was being said, over and over again. Reesah was now saying, “Ignorance is no excuse, ignorance is no excuse.” All the time Reesah lay facedown. I could see where to strike Reesah’s neck for the kill. I hesitated. I felt some emotion I could not identify. Suddenly things did not make sense. I felt as though a stack of millions of neatly piled items was tilting on a shelf somewhere inside me. And if I could not gain my balance the stack would shift, and everything would fall, in a terrific cascade that would shatter fragments to all the corners of my being. I held my breath and stood still, trying to keep upright. Then I felt my anger which gave me strength. I could not punish the pathetic lump of flesh I saw kneeling before me. Reesah must rise and face me. I made my challenge, now Reesah would accept. “Face me!” I shrieked. Reesah shook and seemed to weep but did not otherwise move. Infuriated, I hauled Reesah up by the arm. On Reesah’s face I saw only pain and despair. Why did Reesah insist on such a boldface lie and playacting at innocence? Frustrated and utterly unable to cope with this unexpected situation, I let Reesah’s arm drop. Reesah fell again.”
My bat pauses and looks at me with something like sadness. I feel strange. There’s something in all this. Something important I should know is just beneath the surface. But what? Slowly, like he is extracting each word, Agra continues.
“I, used to have long nails. On my hands. Fingers. Got them from the viled. All sharp as daggers. The last finger had a poison dart just here.” He points to the finger I’ve seen him avoid. As he speaks my ears buzz. The sound grows louder and begins to overwhelm my senses. I nod, my throat dry. “It’s been removed now. But at the time, when I grabbed Reesah’s arm…”
My ears are full of sound yet I can tell it’s quiet in the garden. My head is throbbing. I touch my temple with one hand. As I move my arm I can feel the skin wrinkle with the bandage that’s stuck over my cut. The cut. I see Agra’s bandaged fingers and I see, in my imagination, the nail still intact. The nail full of poison. And it cuts Reesah’s arm. My arm. My cut. My God. I am Reesah.
After a long time the garden returns to me. And I return to me, and find things are still quiet and Agra is still sitting near me. Not so near actually. He’s moved away slightly. Does he think I mean to kill him? No. His face is in his hands. Suddenly it hits me hard that he is ashamed.
“Reesah?” I say. “Reesah?” I repeat again perplexed. “But it doesn’t mean anything.” Agra finally looks up. After a long moment he says, “I think I can explain that maybe. But you should already know. That is-” He falters. “If I’m right and you have remembered…”
“More guessed than remembered,” I say. “Much of it is still hazy. There was the moth in my house. And the ants and bugs. And I remember the cut. And being yanked away from my life in the middle of- something. But tell me what finally changed your mind about- about…”
“You mean what changed my mind about- killing you? I will tell you the end of the story. You lay on the floor of the cathedral of hate holding onto your arm. At the time I hadn’t realized I’d cut you. I was at such a loss at your behavior I didn’t even regard you for several minutes. When I turned back you were still there on the floor but shaking violently and moaning with pain. When you began to vomit I realized what must have happened. The poison dart in my finger was dripping green from recent use and I looked at it, seeing the poison that was surely coursing through your body trying to kill you. At once I realized I couldn’t let you die. I told myself I wanted to hear you admit your wrongdoing, that I needed you to recover enough to finally face me. I didn’t stop to think beyond that. I had a device the perfect things had given me to transport back to the Sanctuary. You were limp as I lifted you and activated it. Thus I appeared in this place holding you. I was greeted quietly by stares from the perfect things. They were still and waited for me to give some explanation. Could they not see I held someone dying? “Assist me!” I said. Still they stared. “Assist me!” I said again. One of them took a look at who I held and asked, “Why do you come here?” What could I say? Why had I come? “Is there a cure for the poison? The poison contained in this?” I held my finger up and in so doing nearly dropped you. One of the perfect things stepped forward and took you from my arms. They spoke to each other quietly for a moment then the one carrying you took you from the room. The most perfect thing, the only one I have ever heard named was called Serene. Serene walked forward and said, “You wish us to cure Reesah?” I nodded. “Then I must inform you we will not. If you wish Reesah to be healed then do it yourself. We can only assist you. Follow me.” Now committed, what could I do except follow Serene? Serene led me to a room where I could wash and locate medical supplies. Another perfect thing met me there as my guide, but stopped me. “Your hands. You will heal no one at all if you keep them that way. We must take the nails.” “All of them?” I asked in desperation. “All of them,” my guide replied. Feeling like a child, I allowed my guide to cut the nails from my fingers. They bled, but didn’t hurt, except for the poison one. That one bled the most and in the end we bandaged them all to get the bleeding to stop. I was anxious to find out what they had done with you. Given the rapid progression of the poison so far I feared you would not last. My fingers bandaged, they took me to the room where they’d placed you. You were delirious. They gave me a dose of something meant to take the poison from your system, which I gave you. Then I was to sit with you and watch and wait for you to awaken. At times you seemed to come to, but your eyes were vacant and you mumbled incoherently. One of the perfect things came in and felt your head. You had a fever, so I was given a damp cloth for you. It seemed to provide some relief as I used it on your forehead. I tried to cool the back of your neck with the cloth but it came away bloody. With growing horror I searched your head for a wound. There seemed to be blood everywhere but I could find no cut. I ran from the room and into the hallway where I met a perfect thing walking towards me. “Please hurry,” I said gesturing at the blood on the cloth I held. “I can’t find the source of the bleeding.” Together we rushed back into your room and the perfect thing lifted your head. There didn’t seem to be any more blood there. Perplexed, we checked for a wound. There did not seem to be any. Then, glancing at my hand, the perfect thing grabbed my wrist and held it up for me to see. The last finger of my hand had bled through the bandage and stained the cloth. “Go take care of that. You can do no more good here until you do. Rebandage your hand and take some food. You have my guarantee I will watch Reesah and do anything that needs doing until you return.” I did as suggested with my bandage but I took no food. I walked the corridor slowly. It shook me up badly when I thought you might possibly bleed to death. And now that I had the chance to think, my reaction upset me. I had wanted you dead so long, the sensation of wanting you alive had me reeling. Why, I wondered, had I responded almost as though I cared what happened to you? As soon as I thought this, it hit me like a punch in the gut. I did care what happened to you. You claimed innocence. Was it true? Frantically I thought back over the events of my lives for reassurance that you were guilty. And I remembered being a moth. In my mind I heard the death chant you used. Reesah, ree-sah, ree sah ree sahree sahree…”
“Sorry. I was saying sorry. That moth was you. You were dying and I didn’t want you to suffer.”
“Yes,” Agra said, choking back something between a sob and a laugh. “What I believed was a battle cry, was in fact an apology. I spent lifetimes consumed thinking about it. What does that make me?”
I am silent. Then I say, “What does my life make me? I did those things. Bugs and mice. Ants and worms. I didn’t know they were you. But they died at my hand. ‘Ignorance is no excuse’ I said because I admit what I did. I was never following you. But I did those things. The pain you described. No wonder I had bad dreams. I was living your pain in my nightmares.”
“Enough,” Agra says. “I killed things too in my many lives. Certainly more than you in your one life. And now. After all those lives what have I got to show? Hate is my only legacy.”
“And mercy,” I say after a minute. “You allowed yourself to believe me. You allowed yourself to change. You said as much before.”
“It’ll be night soon,” Agra says. “We should go back inside so-” But Agra doesn’t finish his thought. He collapses, wheezing and holding his side. An attendant jogs towards us. Are they always at the ready around the corner?
“What is it?” I ask kneeling as the attendant supports Agra.
“This is his last lifetime. The shell he has cobbled together was never meant to last beyond his final challenge. He is dying.”
“No,” I say more loudly than I intend to.
“This is of my own making,” he says, gasping.
“No.” I turn to the attendant. “Perfect thing, you are aren’t you? And this place is the Sanctuary?”
The perfect thing nods.
“Then I ask for justice. Justice against the universe which has wronged both of us.”
“You wish to make challenge against- the universe?” says the perfect thing, looking aghast.
“I wish to defy the universe. This does not need to be the end of Agra. Make him a new body- for one final life.”
“I’m sorry but that is truly beyond our power,” the perfect thing says, still looking wide-eyed.
“Then let me fight the viled,” I say.
“No,” Agra begins to protest, but we are all cut off by another voice.
“There is another way.”
“Serene,” I hear Agra whisper. A short slender creature is walking slowly towards us. She looks at me one long moment then looks at Agra.
“We have the power to prolong you. But it would mean losing your form. You would be a transient.”
“A transient?” Agra mutters. “I have heard the legends. Do you really have that kind of power?”
Serene bows her head slightly in assent.
“Transient?” I say.
The perfect thing holding Agra says to me, “A transient is a thing without form, except in performance of a deed towards its purpose. Many transients are protectors. Some are on quests. A few guard secrets.”
“What will Agra’s purpose be?” I ask.
Serene looks at Agra. “You of many lives remembered, name your purpose,” she says.
Agra looks at me and says, “I still have to make sure you get well. My purpose is to care for you. I need to finish.”
Serene nods and swiftly reaches out a hand to tap Agra’s forehead. The suddenness makes me blink. When I look again Agra is- still there. Then he stands easily and I can tell something is different. I rise, putting a hand on his arm but, no- I don’t. I can’t. He isn’t solid. When I try to touch him it’s like touching smoke. This unbalances me slightly and I sway. Agra catches hold of me, steadying me.
“He only exists physically to aid you,” says Serene.
“He can only help me? Why? I’m not special.”
“You are to him. And he is to you.” Serene explains. “You are bound. The universe brought you together in pain. But you bring yourselves together in healing. Because things change. We change. The world changes. You need someone to see you safely from this place. He needs to live at least a little while free from illusion. It’s true he can only help you. And you can only help others, who will only help others. This is how the world gets changed. And this is how the world gets saved. So change some things and save it.”
“Serene,” I say. “Is that something I can actually do?”
“Of course,” says Serene. “Everyone can. Not everyone does. Do.”