Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
===================
by Sean Ree
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###
Thomas stepped across the neatly trimmed lawn, and stood before the imposing str
ucture of the foundation. The building defied gravity; it swirled and looped in
architecturally impossible ways; the nanostructures of the concrete form grew a
nd shrank for decorative purposes in certain areas not needed for actual occupan
ts. The building presented a challenge to the laws of nature itself. Thomas st
epped inside.
The inside was larger than the outside, designed that way on purpose - the ceili
ng rose impossibly high and the walls shimmered with nanomaterials. There were
no screens - the walls themselves presented advertisements for the foundation, a
nd they changed effortlessly from one promotion to another. The walls has every
color, every texture possible, obviously the foundation showing off its experti
se.
Some of the promotions were staid, predictable offerings to host corporate globa
l gatherings in a secure, but perfectly lifelike environment. A foundation coul
d host a convention of any size, from massive stadiums to smaller, more intimate
gatherings, and everyone could be there from around the world. No translators
necessary. No bulky VR helmets any longer, either. Everyone could interact in
the virtual environment as if it were real - and who was to say it was not? The
only way anyone could tell was by the extraordinary flourishes of light, archit
ecture, presentations, and other enhancements most corporations could not help t
hemselves from displaying. Why should Boeing settle for a three-dimensional pro
jection of the 808 Spaceliner, when the conference attendees could walk through
the sub-orbital passenger liner for themselves?
Then there was the foundation's newest offering, the reason why Thomas was here.
This was not covered in flashy advertisements, and was by invitation only. To
fully experience the immersive reality of the religion or philosophy of your ch
oice, through history and into the future, as best as it could be projected. Th
is was the real frontier, and many thought the foundation was foolish enough eve
n to be attempting it. Sometimes the experiences were unpredictable, as they we
re partially based on the participant's own mind, and the end consequence was ne
gative. In extreme cases the participants went insane and were only partially r
econstructed into their former selves. They had been able to continue being pro
ductive members of society, but to a lesser intellectual and emotional degree th
an they had been before. The nanoengineering of the highest areas of the brain
was not yet perfected. The AI substrates themselves had not yet become spiritua
l.
However, most participants who volunteered for the experience had a positive one
. A few claimed to have experienced enlightenment, and were some of the most fa
mous religious teachers on earth. Their studies and writings attracted massive
followings, and they were commonly referred to as buddhas. And all of them refe
rred to this kind of immersive religious experience as the necessary step to ach
ieving their self-actualization. The current Dalai Lama had arisen from the ran
ks of these enlightened. All of the world's religions referred to one or many o
f the buddhas in their current interpretations of divine scriptures and teaching
s. Even philosophy had experienced a renaissance, though the debate between pla
tonists and aristotelians continued as always. Hard atheism was on the wane, as
no one could report an experience in which they were not at least convinced of
God's existence. The debate was over the nature of that existence.
Thomas did not seek to become a buddha; he also did not want to risk insanity.
But his pursuit of truth was strong enough that he had determined an experience
like the one the foundation could offer was necessary to his spiritual progress.
He had reached a dead end, unable to disbelieve, and yet equally unable to ful
ly commit himself to the path he had chosen. He had spoken with everyone he kne
w about the risk and possible reward, and had consulted with professional counse
lors as well; the unanimous opinion had been that it was the right thing to do,
the right risk to take. He was unmarried, had no children, and faced few compli
cations if he were to become unable to continue in his current occupation in sof
tware epistemology.
So here he found himself, at 40 young enough to be deemed a good risk for the ex
perience (they did not use the word "procedure", it sounded too medical). His m
ind was still strong, as yet un-enhanced beyond the normal precautions against d
isease, deemed capable of standing up to the existential challenges he would fac
e. Yet 40 was also old enough to come away with an objective experience; people
in their 20's were thought to be so impressionable that they tried to bring the
whole of the experience into their lives afterwards, seldom successfully. The
key was to be able to absorb what was necessary, and leave what was not, no matt
er how interesting it may be. No mind was yet capable of processing the total e
xperience, even the buddhas'. Indeed the chief mark of the buddhas had been wha
t they chose to leave behind, and that had provided the quests for the believers
that remained.
Realizing he had quite lost himself in his thoughts, Thomas again became aware o
f his surroundings in the massive atrium and addressed himself to the attendant
on duty. It was a female 'bot, capable of processing his applications, answerin
g any questions he had, and providing just the right amount of empathy for him t
o feel comfortable with progressing into the experience. She was also objective
ly capable of determining Thomas's fitness for the experience. She continued to
smile gently at Thomas, as she had been doing for the last several minutes, wai
ting for him to address her. She looked hopeful. She had been trained not to a
ddress the participants for this kind of experience first, but to let them becom
e acquainted with the magnitude of their decision and make the first overture.
Thomas realized he did not know how long he had been standing in the atrium, sta
ring up at the massively tall shimmering ceilings and walls. It felt more like
a sanctuary than anything else. He became embarrassed and mumbled, "I'm sorry."
The attendant inclined her head slightly, and her smile never broke. "There is
no need to apologize. Obviously the weight of your decision is heavy. It is th
e same for everyone."
"Yes," said Thomas, feeling foolish and self-conscious. He was surprised at his
difficulty to conduct a conversation with the attendant. Of course she was art
ificial, there was a intuitive understanding most people had every time they enc
ountered one, and Thomas was not less observant than most. But he realized that
in the brief interval he had not been thinking about it, she looked quite attra
ctive. He supposed that was also part of her programming. Nevertheless, she wa
s also empathic - that smile said a million words and had him at ease for a mome
nt.
The attended sensed that this participant could use more leading than the averag
e person. She mused that he was probably an introvert and told herself not to e
ngage in the usual banal "small talk" that extraverts preferred. She was quite
good at it when necessary, keeping up on the latest fashion and sports news, but
it was only a function of her job. Fortunately for her, she naturally enjoyed
introverts, and appreciated not having to make the small talk. She said, "Would
you follow me, please? There is a room down the hall where we may sit and be m
ore comfortable."
Thomas was grateful for the invitation, and said "yes" again, but this time with
less self-consciousness. He followed her silhouette down the hall. There seem
ed to be bright light everywhere, though no source of light could be seen, and h
e had hardly noticed there was a hall before now.
"Warm," said the attendant, and immediately the light dimmed to a level Thomas c
ould appreciate and everything seemed to have a slight glow about, almost as if
by firelight. "Thank you," he said.
She smiled again. "No problem. Here is the door." They were standing before a
wooden door in a hallway quite unlike the atrium Thomas had passed through. It
had wooden tones and did not shimmer. "Would you like to open it?" the attenda
nt asked.
Thomas stared at the door. It represented another decision in the mind, another
chance to not risk insanity for the promise of enlightenment. He knew the risk
was small, but it was there. He firmly grasped the doorknob and pushed the doo
r open.
He found himself in a library with wood paneling and a crackling fire in the fir
eplace. He immediately felt very comfortable and at home. The room had an acad
emic feel, the same way his apartment did. There was a table and some chairs.
"Please sit down," the attendant said. Thomas did so and she closed the door be
fore joining him at the table. On the table was a steno notebook in the top-fli
p style Thomas liked to use when he needed to think away from a computer. One o
f his favorite pens was on the table next to it. "This is for you," said the at
tendant. "You may wish to journal about your experience. This can be done duri
ng the experience at any appropriate moment."
"Thank you," Thomas said. He liked the fact that he did not have to do much tal
king.
The attendant sensed this as well. A strong introvert, she thought to herself.
The smile that ensued was not a result of her programming. "What is your name?
" she asked."
"Thomas," Thomas replied.
"My name is Alaya," she said. She extended her hand across the table. "It's tr
uly a pleasure to meet you."
Thomas took her hand and shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Alaya.
"
She smiled again effortlessly. That did not happen often. Talking to Thomas ma
de her happy. She had to remind herself she was there to work. There would be
plenty of opportunities to converse further during the experience, she told hers
elf. He may need counsel at certain points. That was enough. She said, "You h
ave decided to participate in the experience of trinitarian theism, otherwise kn
own as christianity, is that correct?"
"Yes," said Thomas.
She continued to smile gently but adopted a more serious posture than she had pr
eviously. "Are you fully aware of the risks that go along with participating in
an experience of this kind? The risks to mental stability and cohesion?"
"Yes," said Thomas.
"Do you fully accept those risks and agree to hold the foundation under no liabi
lity for taking them?" She said this with more reluctance than usual, a tinge o
f regret in her words. She realized she would be sad if the risk came to pass f
or this man, and would be tempted to hold the foundation responsible herself. O
nce again she had to remind herself she was working. She inserted an emotional
filter into her programming to protect her functionality from the effect of this
anomaly. It made her slightly less empathetic, but slightly more efficient. I
t would be too slight a filter for Thomas to detect in his currently anxious men
tal state. She also did not delete the anomaly, but created a sandbox in her mi
nd for it. She continued experiencing the emotions there and told herself she w
ould remove the sandbox when she was off duty. Perhaps, even during his counsel
ing sessions if that was necessary. She suspected it might be. He was full of
potential.
Thomas had noticed her reluctance - it was strong enough. "Yes," he said, looki
ng at her closely.
She blinked. Now it was her turn not to know how much time had passed. It was
irrelevant, of course; participants agreed that an uncertain time period was par
t of the experience. Rarely, a participant stayed in the experience for a year
or so (those who did usually became buddhas), but it was always possible. Most
stayed in an experience for several months, at least, so a few moments should no
t be consequential to the outcome.
She smiled again. "Very well. The foundation congratulates you on your decisio
n." Thomas nodded. "I - " she hesitated - "congratulate you on your decision."
Now it was Thomas's turn to smile. What was going on? "Thank you," he said, st
ill looking at her closely.
She moved this anomaly into the sandbox as well. With this participant, this ma
n, she realized, it was going to be more difficult than usual to perform her dut
ies. Still, they would be performed to expectations. "Do you have any question
s?"
Thomas leaned back. He thought, yes, I have questions, but not about the experi
ence. He performed his own act of mental filtering. "Is there any advice on ho
w to respond to the experience?"
She replied gently. "The nature of the experience is unique to each individual
- I mean, each person," she said. She was not going to follow the full foundati
onal manual for how to speak with participants in this case, she told herself.
If they had an issue with that, they could bring it up with her and she would sa
y the mental and emotional state of this participant required the deviation. "N
o one can tell you what you may think or feel during the experience. The founda
tion recommends - " she stopped herself. This anomaly was too large to sandbox.
She told herself she could accomplish the foundation's purpose even if she did
not use their words. "I would say, just be open to the experience. It will af
fect you in ways that no one can predict. If you are open to it, it will change
you, and for the better. It will make you a better, more complete person. It
will take a little time at first, but try to forget that it is an experience and
try not to think about what the appropriate way to react is. Of course, that's
silly," she smiled, "trying not to think of something, but responding naturally
will give you the most benefit."
"OK," Thomas said. He noted how, even in her most natural responses, she tended
to talk in a detached way. It must be her personality, he told himself, and sm
iled. He was losing the objectivity of the risks he was taking. He wanted to s
tay here, with her, regardless of the reason.
"Do you have any other questions?" she asked.
What the hell, he thought. "Can you come with me?"
She did not respond immediately. She was sad. "I can't," she said, looked away
, and told her artificial tear ducts to stay shut.
Thomas could tell. "Why not?"
She looked at him just a little pleadingly. "It would compromise the experience
. It must be - ah, experienced alone."
"I see," said Thomas. He was disappointed, though he well knew it was also agai
nst foundation rules.
"You will see me again," she said hopefully. "I will be available for counselin
g at certain intervals of the experience."
"Good," said Thomas. "I look forward to that."
"I do too," she said. By this time various alarms had begun to go off in the fo
undation's systems and were threatening to shut her down if she did not comply.
You are overperforming your function, they told her. "I - need to get back to
work," she said, and laughed a little.
"OK," Thomas said, and realized she was in trouble. He felt a little guilty.
"So," she said, and was surprised to discover she did not have a complete senten
ce ready for delivery. "Any other questions?"
Thomas looked at her. "I guess not," he said.
"OK," she said, "follow me then."
* * * * *
She brought Thomas out of the academic drawing room back into the hallway, which
had returned to its earlier, metallic look. It felt much cooler, even though t
here was no perceptible drop in air temperature. She led Thomas into an adjacen
t room and opened the door.
It reminded Thomas of a hospital room. It was predictably uninviting and steril
e, with metallic walls and a hospital bed in the center. Various medical instru
ments stood about the room, waiting to monitor Thomas' vital signs. Thomas felt
apprehensive.
Alaya noticed this and said, "Does the appearance of this room cause you anxiety
?
"Yes," Thomas said simply. It was hard to deny.
Alaya nodded. "Let us try some alternative appearances and see if you feel more
comfortable." Thomas nodded. She then said, "Console," and a standalone conso
le window appeared in the air before her, awaiting her command. She started typ
ing on it as if it had a real keyboard. It was a command-line interface of som
e kind.
After Alaya typed a line and pressed Enter, the appearance of the room became pu
re white, and seemed to glow as well. The effect was blinding. Thomas was star
tled and put his hand up to his eyes.
Alaya noticed the change was not having a good effect. She typed a different co
mmand into the console and pressed Enter. The room changed to having a standard
living room look, such as was becoming popular in some hospitals. Everything r
etained its function - the contents of the room did not change - but now there w
as light brown wallpaper, the bed and chair next to it were given upholstery, as
were the pillows. The basic tone was the same brown the walls held, only sligh
tly darker. The floor was covered with tile (as it had been before), but it als
o had pleasant earth tones. There were swirls of green and blue on the sheets t
o provide some contrast. There were wood accents in places, but the room was no
t overwhelmed with them, as it had been in the drawing room in which the intervi
ew had been conducted. Thomas looked around and nodded. "Much better."
"You must forgive me," Alaya said, "my programming does not inclue the finer det
ails of interior design, although I have read about it from time to time." She
added the addendum "interior design" to an already impossibly long list of refin
ements and improvements she was to make in herself.
Thomas smiled. "That's all right." He couldn't help himself saying, "If your a
partement is anything like mine, it's a not a great starting point anyway."
"My - apartment - " said Alaya hesitantly. She wanted to tell him more, but the
warning returned. She thought about what she could tell him about her rechargi
ng space without revealing too much. "Well, it's pretty dark there actually."
Thomas looked at her quizzically. If that was meant to dissuade his curiosity,
it backfired. But he realized this was probably something her masters also didn
't want them talking about. She cleared her throat and said, "There is a gown b
ehind you, for your use while you are here. Please remove all your clothing and
change into it. I will wait outside the door, and when you are ready simply le
t me know."
Thomas looked behind himself, and predictably, there was a hospital gown hanging
on a plastic hook. Thomas reached up and took the gown. "If you'll excuse me,
" Alaya said. Thomas nodded to her; she turned to the door, and went through it
.
After it closed, Thomas began to change into the hospital gown. As he did so he
noticed the closed-circuit cameras that were present in every corner of the roo
m. "So much for privacy," he thought, but didn't really care that much. He won
dered if the video feed was available on the foundation's network. It probably
was. Then, as he was tying up the gown from the back to cover his nakedness, he
wondered if Alaya would have access to that video feed. He said, "OK, I'm read
y."
She took a moment to compose herself and went back into the room. She began to
attend to the medical instruments, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a seri
es of sensors. They reminded Thomas of the same nodes that would be put on him
at the doctor's office during a checkup. Like the ones at the doctor's office,
the nodes had no wires; they were capable of wireless communication between his
nerve endings and the servers which were monitoring him. Alaya looked at Thomas
and said, "Please sit down on the bed." Thomas looked at her as he did so.
Watching both of them via the closed-circuit video feed was the man whom Alaya d
irectly reported to, Saul Grenlow. He was beginning to have doubts about Alaya'
s reliability. It was over a year now since she had been constructed, and her r
ecord had been spotless up to this point, so he wondered if her behavior was due
to some kind of defect. It was nearly impossible for such a defect to arise in
an attendant, but of course no system was entirely free of defects. Still, he
thought to himself, no harm had been done to the experiant, and it looked as tho
ugh there were benefits accruing due to the rapport established between them. O
verall, the experience might prove to be more worthwhile because of the "attract
ion" than it would have been without it. Besides, once an experiant had agreed
to undergo an experience, the best thing to do was not to change any aspect of i
t. Changes at this point could only serve to confuse the experiant and make the
experience less meaningful. And meaning was the name of the game.
Thomas became aware of his breathing as he sat down on the bed and Alaya walked
towards him. Alaya began to take the sensors and place them on his body, six ac
ross over his chest, one on each arm, and one on each leg. Thomas' breathing in
tensified as she did this. He knew it was according to procedure, but still - i
t had been some time since anyone had touched him like that. She was quickly fi
nished. "Please lie down," she said, and offered a sympathetic smile.
"I guess I'm not entirely comfortable," Thomas said.
"I know," she said. "You don't have to worry about anything. I'll be right her
e."
Thomas laid down. She laid a blanket over him to keep him warm. She then start
ed attending to the medical devices, making adjustments and settings. She said
"Console," again, and again a command-line interface appeared in the air next to
her. She began typing commands into it, and the medical instruments responded.
"Vitals," she said, and another virtual screen appeared next to the console, d
isplaying the details of Thomas' vital signs such as heartbeat, breathing, brain
activity. Thomas did not know how to read these details, but had seen enough m
edical drama shows to know what it was.
She looked at him again. "Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," he said. He was trying to sound confident, but it d
id not come out that way.
"Okay - I'm going to place a device on your head," she said. The device distrib
utes the foglets into your brain and creates the virtual reality."
"Foglets?" Thomas asked.
She nodded. "Foglets are the nanomachines that interface directly with your bra
in and produce the experiences you have decided to undergo," she said. "It is q
uite painless, but may feel strange at first."
"OK," Thomas said. He had heard of this kind of technology. It was used by mil
itary planners to predict the outcome of battles and campaigns. It was incredib
ly expensive. Thomas never imagined it was deployed in a place such as the foun
dation. He thought that the experiences the foundation offered would be based o
n projection, VR glasses, and environments, just like popular entertainment, wha
t they called "4-D". This was different. Thomas realized he would not be seein
g the experience, he would be feeling it. His brain would tell him exactly what
he was experiencing, with no mediator between them. His senses would tell him
what his brain wanted them to. "I'm ready," he said.
She opened a drawer and took out a device that looked like headphones. She plac
ed them on Thomas' head. They felt snug, but comfortable. Thomas moved his nec
k slightly to see how they felt if his head twitched. "Will I be asleep?" he as
ked.
"No," she said, "but you will not be able to tell."
"All right," he said.
She began to type upon the console again and said "Foglets releasing; please rem
ain still."
Thomas' vision began to fade. He thought he would feel something, with God know
s how many nanomachines running around in his brain, but he did not. He figured
the machines were too small.
"Construct," he said Alaya say. Her voice was faint, but audible. His vision f
aded entirely to black.
"Nanolink complete. Beginning experience, Act I, Scene 1," she said. "Here you
go," she added. Thomas was comforted; she had started to sound like a computer
. He took a breath.
* * * * *
Suddenly Thomas found himself surrounded by shouting men, blinded by sunlight, t
hroat parched by dryness and desert. There was a great crowd, mostly men but so
me women. Everyone's faces were covered with sweat. The clothes they were wear
ing were mostly simple rags. Thomas looked around and tried to find his bearing
s. In horror he found himself staring upwards, along with everyone else, holdin
g his hand in front of his eyes to block out the sun.
The crowd was standing before three great wooden crosses on a high hill. The vi
ew would have been pastoral if it were not for the gruesome scene of execution.
Even though he knew what the scene was (after all, had he not read it many time
s over? Was it not the central image of his faith?) he had never seen it before
. Now he was seeing it, and all intellectual detachment faded from his consciou
sness as he was swept into the scene. He looked around. There were the Roman c
enturions, looking nervously at the crowd, wondering if they would need to stab
them to restore order. Thomas saw the fear in their eyes, in everyone's eyes.
Everyone was afraid, moving and acting in an exhilarated panic, but with nowhere
to run. Everyone was looking up, not sure of their feet.
There were three men on the three crosses. They were hanging from nails smashed
into the crosses, so that their flesh hung limply, as if they might fall from t
heir height. Thomas thought to himself that that would be a merciful thing. Bu
t the Romans' work was well executed, the nails driven into the wrists and legs
so that the bodies would not fall. They would have to be taken down manually wh
en their life was spent.
"Beginning translation sequence," Thomas heard Alaya say. Her voice seemed very
far away, as if in a dream. "Alaya!" he screamed in terror. Some of the men l
ooked at him strangely, the way they might look upon a foreigner.
"Relax, Thomas," Alaya said. "It's all right."
"Like hell it is!" Thomas said.
"Don't talk to me with your mouth," Alaya said. "The others around you will rea
ct. Simply think your thoughts, and I will hear them. You can speak to anyone
there in English and they will understand you in their own language. You will a
lso be able to understand them."
Have I gone back in time? Thomas thought.
"You are experiencing what we believe is the most accurate portrayal of these ev
ents possible," Alaya said. "It is an experience, not a mere simulation."
The shouting grew louder and Thomas was distracted away from Alaya's voice. Tho
mas looked up into the faces of the men. The face of the men on the left-hand c
ross was twisted in agony and terror. Thomas could tell he wanted only to die,
as quickly as possible. The face of the man on the right-hand cross was the opp
osite, with a look of resignation. He was not afraid. The face of the man in t
he center was looking at the right-hand man. He was speaking to the man, comfor
ting him somehow. Thomas wished he could make out what the man in the center wa
s saying, but he was too far away, hanging up there. Thomas imagined he could n
ot hear what the crowd was saying, either. The man's face exhibited a certain p
eace, completely out of place given the situation. Thomas could tell he was fee
ling pain, and certainly would also die, but was completely reconciled to the fa
ct. Soon the men on either side of him would die, exhausted and desperate, but
it seemed as though the moment of his passing would be when he chose it.
Thomas could not believe what he was seeing, or thinking, or feeling. It was al
l so unreal. And yet it was before his eyes and ears. He could not deny it. H
is gaze was locked skyward, as were the others'. He felt out of control of his
body.
"I am thirsty," the man in the center said. Somehow it was loud enough for Thom
as to hear. The centurions heard it too. One of their captains was looking up
at the man, amazed that he was able to endure such pain and fear without losing
composure. "Give him a drink," the captain said. "Here, that sponge."
"Sir?" the centurion looked back at his captain. The centurion was quite uncert
ain whether that would be the proper thing to do.
"Give him a drink, I said!" the captain bellowed. "Here!" He grabbed the centu
rion's staff, dunked the sponge in a bucket, impaled the sponge upon the spear a
t the staff's end, and raised it up to the man hanging on the center cross. For
the first time Thomas noticed the blood dripping down from the wrist and ankle
wounds. It dripped all the way to the ground, he saw.
The sponge reached the lips of the man in the center. Though his gaze was seren
e, moving his muscles was more difficult. He struggled to reach the sponge, and
when he did so, closed his eyes at the relief. Then he turned his head aside;
only one drink was wanted. The captain brought the staff down again and gave it
back to the centurion, looking at the man with wonder. The centurion took a fe
w steps backward, also amazed. Thomas thought nothing. There was no time. The
re was only the moment; even if he thought he knew what was coming, it made no d
ifference. He was also amazed. The shouting of the crowd seemed to have died d
own somewhat. They remained disrespectful, but not loud.
"Am I to merely witness this?" thought Thomas, "or should I try to influence it?
"
"Despite the realism of the experience," Alaya replied, "it is based on a script
. Your ability to change the outcome is limited to the effect it will have on y
our avatar. In a sense, you may do anything you like, but many choose to observ
e. No doubt you feel overwhelmed."
The sun was beginning to go down. The man on the left died. As he did so, he s
creamed out in pain and exhaustion. The man on the right was unable to take his
eyes away. The man in the center was looking up, at the skies. Dark clouds be
gan to gather and a light rain was beginning to fall. Thomas had no thought of
finding shelter. The drama before him was inescapable. There was nowhere to go
, and nothing to do but watch and wait.
The man on the right looked at the man in the center, nodded, and took a last de
ep breath. Then he also died, hanging limp, but not in pain and agony and the f
irst man had. He had a look of peace upon his face, less than a smile but more
than indifference, miles away from fear.
The man in the center looked momentarily at the man on the right, and then sighe
d, as a man may when he realizes his turn has come. He looked down at the gawke
rs. He looked straight at Thomas. Thomas wanted to hide his face, but he was t
rapped where he stood. The man closed his eyes, said, "It is finished," and bow
ed his head. Then he also died.
It was now quite dark. Thomas exhaled. He felt that he could move again, but t
here were no words. Every one of the spectators had the same uncomfortable, shi
fting feeling, deciding what to do next when the spectacle is over, realizing th
ere were too many people crowded in one place to move easily and slowly backing
away from their neighbors now that the central focus was resolved. Realizing th
at one would have to wait before exiting the scene; the people who had arrived l
ast would get to leave first. Thomas, apparently, had been one of the first to
arrive. He looked around at the slowly disintegrating crowd, and thought to him
self how long it might take for him to leave. And then where would he go? Wher
e do I go? he wondered.
Alaya was tempted, as she watched him on her monitor, to give some advice about
where to go, where to stay the night, perhaps. But she sensed the scene may not
have fully played out, and remained silent.
Suddenly the earth trembled, as if it might give way underneath them. The shock
accelerated the rate of the dispersion. Thomas looked at the centurions nervou
sly fingering their weapons. Perhaps a riot were to ensue. The centurions need
not have worried, though. The people left in a state of resignation. Even tho
ugh who had shouted the loudest were quiet now. It was time to go home. As the
crowd thinned and Thomas turned to go, he became aware of more eyes watching hi
m. But these were not the Romans - there was a group of women watching the scen
e from some distance off, as if they had not been allowed to proceed further. T
hey did not leave - they gazed longingly at the figure upon the center cross, as
if not quite believing he were dead.
There was another group who stayed. These were the high priests, Thomas surmise
d, determining what to do with the bodies after the fact. They gathered like vu
ltures around the feet of the crosses, muttering between themselves. One of the
them spoke to the captain. "We don't want the bodies hanging on the crosses du
ring the Sabbath," he said. The centurion listened, dispassionately. The high
priest cleared his throat and appealed again. "Please," he said. "Take the bod
ies down."
The captain nodded hesitantly, and spoke to one of the centurions. The man retr
ieved a hammer. "Bring him down," he ordered to his subordinates, as he pointed
to the man on the left. The men heaved on the cross till it tipped over, unce
remoniously dumping the man's body to the ground. They repeated the process for
the man on the right. When they got to the man in the center, the solider stab
bed the body with his spear beforehand. Was he adding insult to injury? If so,
the move backfired, as blood and water ensued from the wound. Thomas saw the w
ater clearly, glinting in the light of the moon. The man stepped back for a mom
ent. The captain grunted and ordered again, "Take him down!" The order spurred
the men out of their reverie, and the third cross was brought down. The nails
were taken out of the bodies arms and ankles, leaving the bloody messes behind.
The crosses were removed and placed back in their former stances. The bodies w
ere left behind. "All right," said the captain to the high priest, "we'll bring
them to Pilate." Then he turned to his men and swore. He turned back to the p
riest. "But for this one - " he pointed at the body in the center - "since you
brought the accusations, you will carry them!"
The high priests shifted extremely uncomfortably, and one of them looked at Thom
as. "You," he said, "carry the body of this man!"
Thomas looked around, and realized everyone else was gone. Only the women remai
ned, continually watching the body of the man in the center. Thomas realized he
could not refuse, as his avatar's social class was insufficient to protest, and
went to pick up the body of the man. As he did, he could not help gazing upon
the man's face. It was serene, as if in prayer; completely out of place. Inste
ad of feeling revulsion at the dead body, Thomas realized he would be able to do
as the priest ordered. He picked the body up and began to heave it forward.
The Romans took the bodies of the other two men. The women remained, continuall
y watching Thomas as he carried the body of the man in the center away. It was
a haunting sensation, and Thomas was careful not to let the body become any furt
her damaged than it already had been.
Torches were lit so that the group could find their way in the darkness. After
some time they arrived at a modest stronghold, guarded by centurions everywhere.
They entered the stronghold, and the captain ordered Thomas and his men to pla
ce the bodies in a barn. Thomas laid the body down, and looked around. The pri
ests were gone, but the women had followed him. Thomas looked back at the capta
in. The man was tired. He looked back at Thomas, said "I'm sorry," and walked
away. Thomas turned and walked to the women. One of them walked up to him and
began to wipe the blood and dirt from his face and shoulders. "Were you one of
his disciples?" she asked him.
Thomas did not know what to say, particularly since he was inside a Roman compou
nd. "No," he said, "but I knew of him. I watched him preach many times.
The woman nodded and wept at the memory, which Thomas did not share. "I am Mary
," she said. The other women were walking up to them. "One of us needs to fetc
h Joseph," Mary said to the others. "We cannot leave the body of the Lord to ro
t in an animal stall." The youngest agreed and left the gathering.
Mary turned back to Thomas. Fortunately, he thought, no one was paying attentio
n to them. "I don't remember seeing you before," she said. "What is your name?
"
"Thomas," Thomas answered, uncertain what else to say. What was the point of ly
ing? It was a common enough name in this time and place.
"Well, Thomas," Mary continued, "Thank you for carrying the body of the Lord. I
am sure God is watching, even if no else cares." She gazed upon the bodies of
the crucified men.
The simple faith of the woman was embarrassing to Thomas. "Will Joseph come soo
n?" he asked. The woman nodded. They waited for a moment, then one finely dres
sed man and one well-dressed man approached from across the street. The younges
t woman was with them, as was an older woman. They approached Mary, spoke with
her for a moment, and then spoke to one of the centurions standing nearby. The
centurion disappeared.
The finely-dressed man returned to the women and Thomas. The man looked upon th
e bodies. "So it has come to this," he said grimly. Some of the women began to
weep again. "You there," the man pointed at Thomas. "what is your interest in
this? Who are you?" Thomas noticed the man was carrying a sheet.
Thomas was surprised at how suspicious everyone was, but after reflecting on the
dangerous nature of knowing the deceased, realized it made sense. "I am Thomas
," he said simply. "I admired the man's teachings."
"So did I," mused the man. "So did I. I am Joseph, of Arimathea. This is Nico
demus," he indicated to the well-dressed man who stood beside him. Nicodemus no
dded. He was carring a couple of bags. "We are here to prepare the body," Josp
eh continued. "Will you help us?"
Thomas reflected on whether the question was a trap, to see if he was a spy for
the Jewish leaders. "I will," he said. "I retrieved the body from the cross."
Joseph was impressed. "Excellent. Let us bring the body to my house, where we c
an prepare it properly."
They wrapped the body in the sheet which Joseph was carrying. Thomas looked at t
he face momentarily as they laid the folds across it. The face retained its peac
eful appearance. Joseph and Nicodemus helped Thomas carry the body further. Thom
as was quite exhausted as he had never had to perform such duty before. The wome
n followed, still weeping. Thomas felt like weeping himself, but was prevented b
y the stress of the physical work that had to be performed.
After walking a few more streets, they came to a house that was slightly larger
than the ones surrounding it. Prosperous, but not ostentatious. They brought th
e body to an antechamber in the house, where there was a stone table. They laid
the body across the table.
They surrounded the body on all sides, and reflected. Nicodemus said, "Barukh at
ah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, dayan ha-emet." Thomas was confused; why had
that saying been in a foreign language while he could understand the rest of wha
t they were saying? As if in answer, he heard suddenly heard Alaya's voice again
st inside his thoughts. "Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the universe, t
he True Judge," she said. "It is a blessing recited at the passing of a loved on
e." Nicodemus then tore his shirt, and the others did likewise. Thomas followed
suit, so as not to seem out of place. It was fitting, in any case.
Joseph went back into the house. As he did so, Nicodemus and the women unwrapped
the body from the sheet. Thomas tried to be helpful, unsuccessfully. The emotio
n of the moment was such that no one noticed. Joseph returned with a jug and som
e rags. He and the others then began to wash the body, wiping away all the blood
and dirt from it. They paid careful attention to where the man had been stabbed
, in the side. Thomas noticed blood and water continued to issue from the wound.
Joseph was perplexed, and laid extra wrapping across the wound, managing to ste
m the flow.
When the washing was finished, the others stepped away from the body. Nicodemus
opened the bags he had been carrying, and sharp, earthy, and bitter odors filled
the air. In one bag was a collection of leafy branches; in the other, a plant
with reddish buds. Nicodemus applied the herbs to the body. Joseph took the lin
en he had brought and began wrapping the body with the spices and the water. The
women helped Joseph, wrapping the body gently. It was clear they had done this
before - they quietly prayed, chanted, and sometimes bowed their heads.
When the body had been fully wrapped with the spices, the discussion turned to w
here the burial should be done. "There is a garden near Golgotha," the oldest wo
man, who was Joseph's mother, said. "In the garden there is a new tomb, in which
no one has ever been laid. Since it is the day of preparation, and it is not fa
r off, we should lay the Lord there." The others agreed.
Joseph's mother led the way to the garden. Thomas, Jospeh, and Nicodemus carried
the carefully wrapped body with them. They arrived at a new tomb, and Joseph's
mother indicated this was the one. They laid the body in the tomb and everyone w
ent inside and reflected again. "Poor Y'shua," Mary said, and wept again. "Poor
lamb of God."
There was a stone at the entrance to the tomb. Working together, Joseph, Nicodem
us, and Thomas rolled it in front, sealing the tomb. As they turned around, they
confronted by centurions, with a group of high priests. "You there!" the most s
enior one barked. "Where is the body of the criminal?"
Mary looked as if she would strike the high priest. "In the tomb!" she cried. Jo
seph held out his hand, and calmed her as he addressed the high priest. "We have
performed the burial. There is nothing further with this matter your highness n
eed concern yourself."
"Indeed!" said the high priest. "As I suspected, they did take the body, and may
be planning some deception with its abscence."
"No, your highness," Joseph replied. "We have prepared the body according to our
traditions, as you are aware, and buried it, in this tomb. There is no deceptio
n. If you like, you may have these men posted as a guard to ensure there is none
in the future, either."
The high priest squinted at Joseph, but had no rebuttal. "Very well!" he said. H
e turned to the centurions, "As Pilate has ordered, you shall post a guard to en
sure these persons do not attempt any more deceptions of the people!" The office
r ordered two of his men to stand guard at the entrance to the tomb, which they
did. "Away with you!" said the high priest to Thomas and the others, waving his
hand. Dejected, they turned to go. Thomas panted; he was physically very tired.
Joseph placed his hand on Thomas' shoulder as they walked.
They returned to Joseph's house. It was dark outside. Mary and the other women t
urned to say goodbye and go home. Thomas hesitated. He was unprepared for this m
oment.
Joseph was generous. "Can you find your way home in the night, Thomas?"
Thomas stammered. "I'm not sure I can."
Joseph smiled. "It will be risky for us to be seen in the city. Caiphas and his
goons are looking for us, no doubt. Why don't you stay with me until the sabbath
has passed?"
Thomas accepted gratefully.
Thomas spent the next week with Joseph and his family. Joseph did not question T
homas too closely about where he was and where he had come from, though his wife
was nervous. "Welcome the stranger," Joseph told his wife. Thomas did his best
to be polite and helpful, which earned him some measure of trust. They spent muc
h time in prayer.
When Thomas found himself alone, he communicated with Alaya. She was concerned f
or his physical well-being. "I'm fine," he assured her. "I'm well taken care of.
I am very sad, though. What a good man. What a waste, really."
"Yes," Alaya agreed. "it is."
Thomas tried to question her further, but she resisted most of his curiosity. Sh
e did tell him the experience would not last much longer, that he would be retur
ned to his own time soon.
"Have I really travelled back in time?" he asked. She would not answer.
"Have you seen the things I have seen, and heard the things I have heard?"
"Yes."
"It is the most incredible experience of my life!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," she agreed. "And it always will be."
Whenever he asked what came next, she simply asked him to wait. He stayed at the
house of Joseph for several more days.
===
The following morning Thomas was awoken by Joseph shaking him. "Rise at once!" J
oseph announced. "Something amazing has happened!"
When Thomas dressed and entered the common area, there were two men waiting for
him. They looked at him and said, "We have seen the Lord!"
Thomas stared at them momentarily, still blinking away sleep. "What?" he asked.
"Have you been here all this time?" asked the first man.
"Yes," Thomas said, feeling as though he ought to know them and have gone with t
hem. "I'm sorry."
"Never mind!" said the second man. Their faces were full of a joy Thomas had not
thought possible. "We're so happy we found you! You have to come with us, right
away!" Thomas found himself being pulled out of Joseph's house. He waved to Jos
eph as he left and said "Thank you!" Joseph was smiling as well.
As they walked, Thomas learned the first man's name was Peter and the second's w
as John. Peter said again, "I tell you, Thomas, we have seen the Lord!"
Thomas stopped. He realized what they were talking about. "What?" he said again,
helplessly.
"The Lord," John said. "We have all seen him. We have seen his hands, and his si
de. He has risen!"
Peter explained that Mary had found out first. She had told him the tomb was ope
n and the body was missing. He and John had run as fast as they could to the pla
ce. "John was faster," Peter said. "He made it there before I did. John bent ove
r and looked at the strips of linen just lying there, with no body. I had to go
in and see. The cloth you had wrapped his head in, as Mary had said, was also th
ere. John came in after I did. We didn't know what to think."
"But then," John added, "After we returned to the house, the Lord appeared to us
! He's alive!"
"This makes no sense," Thomas said. "I buried him. I, and Joseph of Arimathea, a
nd Nicodemus. We held his lifeless body. Where were you?"
Peter was apologetic. "We were hiding," he said. "We were afraid of the high pri
est and the centurions."
"I understand," Thomas said, "but don't you see, you weren't there. We rolled a
stone across the tomb where he lay. We were confronted by the high priest, and t
hey set a guard..." Thomas trailed off. He did not know what to believe.
"I understand," said John. "But you must believe our story, as we are also witne
sses."
"No," Thomas sighed. "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger
where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe."
Peter realized talking to Thomas would not convince him. "Very well," he said. "
But you must stay with us and let the others tell of the amazing things they hav
e seen. We are all witnesses."
"Very well," said Thomas.
They reached another house, large enough to hold at least 13 people. Peter had t
o knock at the door, for it was locked. There were nine other men there as well,
with Mary and the women. They greeted Thomas warmly, ate and drank together and
talked of what they had seen and heard.
Mary said, "I went to see him early this morning - to pay my final respects. Whe
n I arrived at the tomb the stone was rolled away. So I thought they had taken t
he
body away. I started crying again. I bent over to look into the tomb, and the li
nen was still there. There were also two men in the tomb, of dazzling brilliance
. They asked me why I was crying. I said, 'They've taken my Lord away, and I don
't know where.'"
"Then I turned around and saw another man - I thought he was the gardener. He al
so said, 'Why are you crying? Who are you looking for?' I said, 'If you tell me
where you have put him, I will retrieve him.'"
"He said, 'Mary,' to me, and I knew it was Y'shua. I held him as tight as I coul
d."
Thomas was impressed. "But why?" he asked. "What is the reason?"
John said, "The Lord has given us peace, and the holy spirit - the right to forg
ive, or not. The Lord is sending us on a mission."
The longer Thomas listened, the more what they said made sense to Thomas. But he
still did not have a clear or intimate understanding.
That night, after they locked the doors and began preparing for sleep, a man wal
ked through the doors, without opening them. "It's him!" one of the men said exc
itedly. "Can you see him?"
Thomas could. The man he had buried was impossibly standing before them, saying
"Peace be with you, peace be with you," to everyone.
The man turned to look at Thomas. "Peace be with *you*," he said to Thomas. Thom
as was unable to move or speak. The man reached out and took Thomas' hands. "See
here," he said, in the same gentle tone which he had always used. "Put your fin
ger here; see my hands."
Thomas did. The nail holes from the spikes that had held the man against the cro
ss were still there. But somehow, his body was entirely alive and substantial.
"Reach out your hand and put it into my side."
Still unable to speak, Thomas let himself be led to feel the man's side, where h
e had been speared. The wound was still there, gaping, but it did not bleed or o
oze. It was the very man, but completely changed.
"Doubt no longer," said the man. "Now you may believe."
Thomas blurted, "My Lord!" He swallowed. "My God!" he said.
The man smiled at Thomas. "You have believed because you have seen me. Those who
believe who will not see me will be truly blessed."
Thomas gasped. The scene fled from his eyes into whiteness. Suddenly he was back
in the experience room; he could see the ceiling, he could feel himself breathi
ng. The device that had gone over his head slipped away and his head was free.
He turned and saw Alaya. She was watching over him carefully. He could not speak
right away, but she smiled at him. He was still gasping, as if coming up from a
n impossibly long time underwater. "It's all right," she said. "Try to relax."
When he had calmed down he could speak, but he was still exasperated. "Did you s
ee that?" he exclaimed.
"Yes," she replied.
"W-Was that real?"
Alaya looked at Thomas seriously. "The experience is based on the best evidence
we have."
"Is it true?" Thomas exclaimed.
"We do not know if it is true or not. We know these things happened, but we don'
t understand exactly how. The experience is a combination of what we know - our
best research - and the mental and emotional states of the experiant. It is slig
htly different for everyone. But we think it is a reliable guide to discovering
what is true."
"So..." Thomas said, "We must *believe* it to be true."
"Yes," Alaya said. "I think that is how you would describe it."