Starzel, p.20
Starzel, page 20
“When the appropriate time arrived, the woman with four sons from four different men went to the king’s tent as she had been instructed. There the king invited her into his court and asked her to tell him all there was to know about her life. The woman bowed to the king and showed him the seven signs of respect and honor the way all kings should be shown respect and honor. Then she kneeled, sat back on her heels, with her head lowered, her hands on her knees, palms up, and told him everything.
“She told him about her four sons from four different men. How her parents were poor crop pickers and could not afford to care for her and the four sons. She told him of the conversation with the tavern owner when she and her sons were near death from hunger and hardships. She recounted the story of the tavern owner’s death and how she and her sons served his passing and performed his service with honor and respect. She told him how she took up living in the tavern owner’s house and took up running the tavern. She told him how she cared for her sons as they grew, providing them with all she could of herself and the income she earned from the tavern. All four of her sons were now well established in businesses and had obtained good marriages.”
“I’LL TAKE YOUR DRINK orders first,” says the waiter as he goes from table to table. With me acting as patron entertainment, strolling around each table as I tell the end of the mystery. My head and soul are still bewildered as I marvel at how I came to know this legendary tale with such detail. My mother's ring seems tighter on my finger and my sixteenth sense is keenly aware of the scene.
“The king was very impressed that a simple abandoned woman with four sons and only a simple tavern in so small a village could accomplish so much for her children. He asked her how it was that she came to know how to greet a king and how to perform the high acts of honor and respect to him and his royal advisors. ‘My parents showed me the way,' she replied. ‘My parents taught me how to show honor and respect for kings and they taught me how to pay honor and respect even to the highest most honored one as well.’
“After hearing everything she had to tell him, he asked her to join his trusted advisors as the chief of the king’s kitchen. ‘Please forgive me for refusing the gracious honor of the good king,’ she replied. ‘But if I could ask for a different position in your service. If you, the great king of Madhya Pradesh and all of Andora, would honor me instead with one remaining desire in my life, good king, I will vow to instruct your kitchen chef on how to prepare the gazpacho.’
“The king being impressed with the woman, and so he listened and considered her request. She asked him to provide her with the necessary land, resources, and his approval to build the first holy stupa at the top of Mount Santis and in so doing to honor the Buddhas. ‘It will be a place where limitless numbers of people could come to acquire great merit and a monument to serve as a support for the eternal wisdom mind of the Buddhas,’ she said.
“The king was blown away and he was compelled to grant her the land and access to all the supplies to build the stupa. She had spent everything she made raising her four sons, gave them all she could to get them established in their own business, guided them to find suitable wives and now she wants to give everything she has remaining in her life to building a stupa where countless numbers of people will benefit from great merit.
"After calling his counsel to join them in the King's meeting. The woman on his right and his treasurer beside him on the left, he told them. 'The businessmen and farmers of my kingdom come to me with requests to make their lives easier and richer. Every day I am asked to provide them with more land, more money, more soldiers, and more resources of all manners. This woman is the first to ask me for something that benefits everyone. Her request makes all of us wealthier and happier. She will have my seal to have whatever is required to complete her project.' The king so instructed his counsel and advisers.
“With the land granted and permission secured, the woman and her sons began construction. After two years the structure was already standing at a height of three tiers. The local aristocrats became intensely jealous; despite all their wealth, they had never generated such an aspiration as this poor, single, paltry woman. They saw the rising structure only as a testament to their miserliness and greed. They made an appointment so they could take their case before the king. They wanted the king to stop the construction and order each stone of the holy stupa to be returned to where it came from.
“The great king refused their pleas explaining to them how the woman’s request was so astounding that his exclamation of approval would not be recanted.
“Construction continued unceasingly over the next six years. Everything was completed except for the holy stupa’s gold dome. But the woman at this time realized her life was nearing its end. She gathered her four sons by her side. She requested they complete the holy stupa, fill it with the relics of all the Buddhas, and then perform an extensive consecration festival. This, she assured them, would provide a field of great wealth and benefit merit for infinite numbers of sentient beings. She told them to fulfill her wish and the wishes of the Buddhas and allow for the accomplishment of something vastly meaningful for this life and future lives.
“After she spoke these final words, she passed away. The ancient legend tells us at the moment of her death, music resounded from heaven and flowers rained down from a sky filled with streams of rainbow lights. These were all signs of her attainment of Buddhahood from the great wealth of merit she had accumulated in her life.”
Hallucinatory, visions of the tavern begin to fill my eyes and again the area transforms into another time of an ancient year. Banyan is gone, and nobody is here. He’s left his tablet on a table with the pages open. I look closer to see what he left for me to see.
The signature again? It’s as clear as before, "Banyan," but there is something more. Something is written below the signature that wasn’t there before. EA2222, it reads.
The warning message flashes red in the center of my HUD and disrupts my post-cognition.
__critical override__
__memory device error__
Not three hours ago she told me this could happen. I recall the woman in black saying to me before I left her in Bera, “Your implants are outdated and should have been replaced a year ago. Are you an idiot, or what? Your HUD is faulty and getting worse by the day and you never get my messages. How am I supposed to do what Casper asked me to do and keep you safe?"
She shoved me in the chest with both hands. "You are scheduled for the operation of the upgrades but this assignment came up as immediate and critical. Though no one could tell me what we are doing here. It must be critical because I was there when your father tried to postpone the operation.
“The implant will be for the beta version of the newest full cognition with complete linking capability for up to eight external devices; the Neuralink 7.19b. I would give my back teeth for those upgrades." She tries to appeal to my sense of intrigue. "Right now, I imagine those upgrades are necessary for this mission to succeed. You are a liability to yourself and the Universe. I will not let you miss the appointment! I’ll drag you kicking and screaming if necessary.”
Still distracted by the memory device error, I check the list of available memory devices to see if I can access the software the director uses for creating the shooting boards. It is there. Relieved, I take a deep ujjai breath. Sorted by the last update time, I see the device is operational. “Yes," I say aloud, forgetting there are a couple of dozen people waiting for me to finish telling the story.
They can wait another minute.
In a few seconds, I’ve got the investigative system scanning the OS to identify the algorithm the software uses to optimize the camera angles, backgrounds, audio tone, lighting, and shooting techniques. That’s exactly what I’m hoping to find.
I’ll need a lot of time to analyze and prepare the software before I upload it to the Tathagata system.
“Where did you go Story Man?” the director shouts between slurps and spoons full of gazpacho. Amidst the lively ambiance of the tavern, the tale I told them unfolds like an ethereal thread, weaving through the hearts of those who listen. Each word carries the weight of centuries, and the legend of the woman's unwavering determination left the onlookers in awe, their minds wandering to the mysterious past and the boundless possibilities of the future.
__warning highly contagious viruses are imminent in ten minutes__
__warning virus protective capability will expire in ten minutes__
__life at risk bio systems failure_
I’M NOT GOING TO DIE! These system failures are like the visions of Banyan and the tavern. Illusions. There is nothing wrong with me and though my HUD sends these perilous flashing messages, I’m still a capable and superior humanoid. Telling the story of the first holy stupa provides me with great wealth and benefit for all who hear it, but it must be told all the way through to the end. And for this assignment, I need all the wealth and benefit I can obtain. It will help right these evils I know result from my tinkering. Yes, I am anxious to start analyzing the algorithms inside the shooting board software, and right now I am seeing the warnings from the Neuralink HUD, I must hurry to complete the story.
—I must complete the story of the woman, Jaczimin, first—
__I can’t help with that__
__do you want to access the first priority__
—what is the first priority—
__virus infection imminent in two minutes__
Focus now. I lock my gaze on the hurried woman's eyes, ignore the errant messages from the HUD, and continue with the story.
“Her four sons continued their efforts to fulfill their mother’s aspiration. After just three more years, the holy stupa was completed. As they placed the -life tree- at the structure’s center, thereby fully consecrating the holy stupa, Buddha Kashyapa along with all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas from the ten directions are said to have appeared in the sky to celebrate the completion of this great accomplishment. At the time of consecration, the legend states, ‘From the awakened forms of the gathered Buddhas, countless myriads of millions of light rays shone so that for three days there seemed no difference between day and night.’
“The great one, Kashyapa, spoke to the four sons. He told them because their mother’s aspirations had been fulfilled with such pure, altruistic motivation, the assembled Buddhas and Bodhisattvas promised the four sons that each of their aspirations would also be fulfilled.
“The eldest brother, the son of the horse keeper, aspired to be reborn as a king in the northern land of Tivlabet to establish the teachings of the Buddha Shakyamuni. He was the wheel turning, King Trisong Detsen, the royal establisher of the dharma.
“The son of the swineherder aspired to be reborn as a pure, fully ordained monk who would uphold the holy monastic order in Tivlabet. He became the great abbot Shantarakshita, and he was the first abbot of Tivlabet.
“The son of the dog keeper aspired to be reborn as a master of mantras, to thereby tame malevolent forces and help his brothers protect the dharma in Tivlabet. He was Guru Rinpoche, the great tantric master who subdued all of Tivlabet’s hostile beings through the power of his mantras.
“The youngest brother, the son of the poultry keeper, realized that his three older brothers might be reborn in different locations and times and therefore aspired to be born as one who could connect them and allow them to reunite in their future lives. He was reborn as the royal minister Nanam Dorje Dudjom, the king’s minister responsible for inviting Guru Rinpoche to Tivlabet.”
After a moment of silence, the hurried woman asks, “Where is this first stupa located? Is it still there?”
One of the women on the crew spoke up and answered while pulling a warm sweater over her shoulders, “It’s been moved some time ago and is now in Katmarnu. The forbidden zone of China and the Asian Alliances.”
The day is getting colder as the breeze has been joined by occasional gusts of what feels like air from the tops of the snow-capped peaks that surround the village. Clouds have taken over much of the sky and their thick billowing shapes veil and unveil the bright sun.
My HUD has been flashing warnings for several minutes now. I’ve been here too long and my sensory brain protections are reaching capacity. If I don’t leave soon, like everyone around me, my mind will be subjected to brainwashing.
“What I like is the Buddha guy, what’s his name, Kashy-something or other gave each son some sort of special gift for helping their mother,” the director smacks, chewing a mouthful of bread. “But,” she continues, “what happened to those wealthy business guys who tried to make the king stop the woman from building whatever it is called—holy spooka thing?”
A few of the crew laugh at her mocking question.
“According to the ancient scriptures,” I say, “they are the first in the lineage of the worst of humankind. Some of their names you might recall from history: Jingus, Mussolini, Stalin, Hitler, Reagan, Franco, Trump, and Williams. But, the worst of their karma was the father of the Aryan religion: Butler.”
Turning to the hurried woman, the star of the show, I say, “I have to go.” Then I walk away from the tavern and the camera crew. The HUD is still flashing danger signals.
__warning highly contagious viruses are imminent in four seconds__
__warning virus protective capability will expire in four minutes__
Adrenaline rushes through my body as the Neuralink implants are triggering my brain to produce the immediate energy necessary for escaping the contaminated air and sensory-altering sound waves. Planet Earth is contaminated, though most of the inhabitants will tell you that it’s just a made-up story born from the conspiracy chasers. Scientific proofs be damned. The people of Planet Earth are entrapped.
They aren’t hopelessly lost in the wedge, not as long as I am here to help everyone escape the Aryan devastation.
__warning highly contagious viruses are imminent in three minutes__
__warning virus protective capability expired__
Not more than three seconds after I reach the bus stop a hydrogen-fuel cargo van screeches to a stop directly in front of me. The side door of the van powers itself open.
“Come on,” someone calls out from inside the van. “Get in here, Eulǝr!”
The van is covered from front to back and top to bottom with the logo, Tathagata. With no hesitation, I leap to get inside. The door powers itself closed behind me.
“Sit down right here,” a very slender man wearing a respirator hiding his face from view says while pointing at a captain's chair.
As I follow the instruction and take the assigned seat. The van peels away and starts down the street at a high speed. The slender man hands me a respirator as he lectures.
“We’ve been getting warning messages from you for more than twenty minutes. What’s wrong with your HUD? Didn’t you see the danger signals? Why don’t you answer my messages?”
Then, I attempt to explain that I was obtaining great wealth and benefit. It couldn’t be helped. But he cuts me off short.
“Well lucky for you I have a Moderna vaccine available.” As he is saying it, the slender man stabs the long-needled syringe into my thigh and injects a cold liquid into my leg. “But you’re contaminated now man, and this injection of Nanos will need three, no,” he hesitates, “You better give them four days to make sure all the damage to your humanoid implants, as well as the organoids, are repaired.”
As the van pulls up to an elaborate-looking hostel, the slender man presses the button to power the sliding door open. He grabs my arm firmly, as I start to step out and onto the walk. We make eye contact and he says, “Oh hell no man! Look at you . . . You shouldn’t even be on this assignment, never ever come to Planet Earth with that outdated Neuralink.” He releases the grip on my arm. “Leave that respirator on for the full four days. Whatever you do, stay indoors, too!” he shouts out of the van door as it closes and the van speeds away.
Chapter 9, The Shooting Board
Though I couldn't watch the journey from the captain's chair I was aware of the van's voyage to the hostel. Its ascent, navigating the winding streets of the village. Arriving at a five-story townhouse, which serves as a hostel. The townhouse is part of a series of interconnected dwellings that stretch along the narrow street.
As I step into the hostel, a holographic host materializes before me, its projection flickering slightly. Its voice carries an air of warmth and hospitality as it addresses me by name.
"Welcome, Eulǝr. I've been expecting you. Make yourself at home. I understand you will be staying here as a guest for some time. I hope you will find this hostel suitable to your liking."
I offer a nod of gratitude to the holographic host, appreciating the gesture of personalized welcome. With a mix of curiosity and weariness, I proceed further into the hostel, eager to settle in and navigate the challenges that lie ahead.
Curious about the occupied stasis chambers, I gesture towards them and inquire, "Are those the Sleepy Joe stasis chambers?"
The holographic host nods, acknowledging my question. "Yes, those are modified stasis chambers designed to serve a more medicinal purpose," it explains. "Many of our patrons use them for fasting periods of two to three days, or even longer durations for dietary and mental rejuvenation, such as indulging in opium or embarking on hallucinogenic journeys.
"Your time in our modern facilities grants you forty minutes of recreational use per week. However, I must inform you that wearing the respirator is not permitted inside the Sleepy Joe chambers."
