chapter twenty

Chapter Twenty

            Maxwell and Tom sat in the apartment in complete and utter silence for what seemed like ages.  

            Maxwell could actually feel the light that was radiating off of Tom.  It was this very light that seemed to make Maxwell feel so high in the first place, as if anything in fact, were possible.  The light was the same substance that was channeled through Tom's finger forhead data dump of terabytes of information into his brain in a fraction of a second. 

            Tom didn't seem to have a care in the world really, and it wasn't lost on Maxwell.  He called the world diseased, which Maxwell didn't dispute, but this knowledge, this 'burden' seemed to have no effect upon Tom's presence.  In fact, the only emotion Tom ever really expressed was one of glee, a ridiculously happy sort of thing with an effortless ease throughout his entire body.  Occasionally he'd puff away at his pipe, which almost seemed to smell of incense, like the kind that was burnt inside his church, but different.  It was very intoxicating and aromatic.  He wondered what it was, but was hesitant to ask.

            "You're curious, aren't you?  Curiousity is a good thing, but it can be a double edged sword as well, just as all things can."

            "After all, didn't it kill the cat?," Maxwell interrupted.

            Tom laughed, "Indeed it did, and you are curious.  You want to know what I'm smoking in my pipe.  It's something you've never heard of before.  It's not a drug.

            Nor is it a tobacco or any kind of a spice.  It exists everywhere around you and everywhere around everyone else as well.  I simply 'choose' to smoke it, even though it isn't really smoke that you're seeing."

            Maxwell took a closer look.  It wasn't smoke afterall.  It eddied and whirled just like smoke would, however, wafting along like freshly poured cream in hot coffee. 

            What 'it' was, Maxwell wasn't sure.  It looked like a hologram, and consisted of many colors that sparkled as it flowed out from the end of Tom's pipe like a waterslide.

            "Come closer, look deeper, tell me what you see."

            Maxwell looked deeper.  He didn't see anything past the myriad of swirling colors.  It was very beautiful and certainly pleasing to look at, but he wasn't sure he was seeing what Tom really wanted him to see.  It reminded him of a time when he struggled for hours on end to see a hidden three dimensional computerized image.  He began to get a bit frustrated after not being able to see anything for all his efforts.

            "Don't you see it?  Look boy, look!  Tell me what you see!"

            "I don't see anything at all, just a bunch of really vivid colors.  I don't know what it is that you are wanting me to see!"

            "You don't see anything because you're trying too hard.  You're struggling too much!  All you want to do is force your will upon the world, but I have news for you buddy, the world is a lot bigger than you might think.  It carries a much larger bat than what most people can realize, do you understand what I'm trying to say?  Stop fighting against it, it's a battle that you can never win.  It's a battle no one could ever win."

            "Okay, so what you're telling me then is to just give up then?  I can't see whatever it is that you're talking about!"

            "You're still resisting too much!  Why don't you just become friends with this world!  Then you wouldn't have to fight anymore and on top of that, you'd end up with a stacked deck if you simply align your will with that of the universe."

            Maxwell was still confused.  To him, Tom didn't make any sense at all.  Out of the confusion, he stopped thinking about what it was he should be seeing.  Once he stopped thinking about what he should be seeing, he stopped thinking about everything altogether.  All that was left in his mind was silence.  And then, in that very moment, Maxwell saw what Tom had been talking about.

            Out of the virtual energy that was pouring out of Tom's mouth danced a myriad of the tiniest images.  A ballerina, a dog chasing a squirrel, kids watching television, a dead sparrow, two lovers embracing, on and on.  All of this flickered before Maxwell like cuts in a movie, it was simply amazing.  It appeared to be a hologram of some kind, or at least something very similar.  There were many different kinds of scenes being played out before him on this ethereal cascade.

            "What you see here, my friend, is what ancient Vedic rishis call the Prana.  It's the essential life source inherent in all things, a well spring of energy that drives the world's entire ecosystem outward from its very core.  It's in the air that you breathe and in all of the organs and cells of your body.  It resides inside the source of water and in between every atom that makes up everything that you ever see around you."

            "Okay, I don't think I know exactly what you're talking about."

            "Well, now you do.  It's very hard to know anything about something you can't see every day when all you have to work with are human eyes.  The only way to know it exists at all is to see it with your mind.  You have to dig deep inside yourself to find it.  Only when you're deep enough inside, and everything is at its most quiet, inside the stillness of that special place will you be able to call upon the Prana and watch it come into your vision, and once you see it, once you really feel it, miraculous things can and do begin to happen all around you.  Things collapse into being from nothing whatsoever.

            Upon hearing this Maxwell said nothing.  He closed his eyes and began to listen to his breathing.  He tried to imagine this so called 'guiding force' that exists everywhere going in and out of his lungs.  It was a very esoteric idea and he wasn't sure his attempts to feel this with his mind were of any use.  

            All of a sudden he felt a solid cane crashing against his head, "Jesus Christ, what in the heck was that for?  Are you insane or something?"

            "Shhh, you must not let such disturbances distract you from your ultimate goal.  Be silent.  Go within."

            Maxwell rubbed his head which still hurt quite a bit.  He was still seeing stars from the collision of the cane.

            "Go!  Go ahead, don't waste any more time.  Go on, ... right now!"

            Maxwell again closed his eyes and focused his thoughts like a laser beam of concentration.  After sitting in silence for some time he began to have some really strange thoughts come into him.  'What is it that experiences these thoughts?  Where do these thoughts come from?'  He tried to focus both the experience-er and the experiencee down onto a single point inside of his mind-space.  After only a bit longer, the cave around him, as well as even his body for that matter, seemed to fade from his mind altogether, and for only the briefest of seconds, Maxwell, whoever Maxwell really was, ... disappeared and thus, became free.

            Knock knock knock.

           

            Maxwell opened his eyes.  He was in his bedroom, in bed, under his covers.  He looked at his alarm clock, it said it was eight-thirty.  'What's going on here?  How in Christ's sake did I get back into my room?'

           

            Knock knock knock! 

           

            Slowly he got out from under his covers and answered the door.  It was his mother, holding his laundry.  She had been cleaning up whilst her son was meandering through the cave .

            “Thank you.” 

           

            Maxwell was closing the door, and just as his mother was about to turn around the phone rang.  He looked at his clothes and they were starting to look extra tattered, on top of stained up and too small.  The phone rang again.  Maxwell realized as he held the withering clothes the transience of material possessions.  His mother, looking slightly agitated, walked towards the kitchen.

            “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

            “Hello?"  She placed the phone to her face and grabbed a pen and a sticky note.  On the other line.

            "Ms. House, hi, this is Dr. Schmidt, Christopher's principal."

            "Yes Dr. Schmidt, how are you?"

            "I'm well, ma'am.  The reason for the call is out of a concern for your son.  I just got out of a conference with his new teacher, Ms. Mooseknuckle, and the school board.  It was an impromptu meeting organized by Ms. Mooseknuckle and one of Christopher's fellow classmate's mother, Mrs. Dick.  Anyhow, they were both concerned that your son isn't being raised in a suitable environment."

            "That's completely absurd!  Of course he's being raised in a suitable environment!  What's this all about?"

            "Well, I don't know if your son told you or not, but there was another, well, 'incident' today.  You see, Christopher called his teacher something I won't be able to repeat, but I trust you, it was not a very endearing term."

            "Oh no,"

            "Oh yes, and on top of that he was acting very peculiar as well.  Ms. Mooseknuckle said he was sleeping in class while disturbing everyone during her lecture by making obnoxious dry heaving sounds.  He also told her that his name was ‘Jesus Christ’ when she asked the class to give her the name of the boy making the sounds."

            "You must be kidding me, Christopher hardly even believes in Jesus Christ in the first place!  He's my wacky little scientist.  He's a really good kid and I just can't imagine him doing any of these things!"

            "Well, it's true Ms. Maxwell.  I'm not calling because I'm upset with your son.  In fact, I told you the other day that I believe your son to be all the things you just said about him.  Its just, with the way he's been acting lately, with punching his classmate and the episode he had in class today, well, I'm starting to get quite a bit of heat from the school board because of it.   Ms. Dick is actually a member of the board who just so happens to be somewhat close friends with Ms. Mooseknuckle, or at least close enough to cause a problem.  What I'm trying to say is that I'm concerned for your son that at some point we might have to expell him.  In essence what this means is that he would have to enroll in another school entirely.”

            "Its Ms. House."  Maxwell’s mother could hardly believe what she was hearing.

            “Sorry, Ms. Maxwell.  Its either that, or we might have to hold him back a grade to give him enough time to get back on his feet."

             While it was true that her son had been acting very peculiar lately, she'd hardly thought that things had gotten this bad.  "So, what can we do?  Are you calling me just to tell me this or do you actually have any ideas or possible solutions?!"

            "Well Ms. Maxwell, I mean Ms. House, it's still early.  We'd really like to meet with the both of you, tomorrow say, around noon.  By 'we', I mean Ms. Mooseknuckle, Mrs. Dick, and myself.  We'll all converse and try to get to the bottom of this.  I'll tell you one thing though, I'll do anything in my ability to help your son, he's quite unique."

            "Oh, he’s special alright."  After hearing this Maxwell walked into the kitchen and she smiled politely at him.  Maxwell turned to walk away and Dr. Schmidt continued.

            "He came into my office today, after what had happened, and I was going to punish him, I really was,  but then he explained to me how he'd blacked out without even realizing in any real way what he in fact was doing.  I've had several experiences like that myself from my time in the Military.  What's even more strange is that your son knew about a particular experience I had quite some time ago.  There's no way for him to have known about that story.  Only a few people in this world know about what happened that day, none of which should be as young as your son."  He paused.  "But your son explained to me in full detail just what transpired, as if he himself had actually been there."

            "Could he have come across this information in your notes or on your computer?  Do you keep a diary or anything that might have lead him to find those particular things out?"

            Dr Schmidt paused slightly.  "No ma'am, not so far as I can tell.  It was in regards to a flashback I'd had after I'd gotten back from overseas.  I experienced a great deal of stressful situations which caused my mind to fracture, or that's at least what my doctor told me.  This is all classified information of the United States Government, I really shouldn’t even be explaining this to you now."

            Maxwell’s mother interjected, as she picked up upon something Dr. Schmidt had said that could possibly lead to a clearer explanation. "You saw a doctor for post traumatic stress disorder?!  So does Maxwell!  Do you mind if I ask you his name?"

            "Just some guy in town, ... why?"

            "Is it Dr. Henry?"

            "Yeah, how'd you know?"

            "That's Maxwell's doctor.  He probably heard the story from Dr.Henry.”

            "Oh, that definitely makes sense.  Why, I've got half a mind to go over to Dr. Henry's office right now and, well, that's a violation of patient confidentiality you know!"

            "I know, right?”  Not concerned about Dr. Schmidt’s HIPPA violations, she turned the subject back to Maxwell.  “Well, I'll meet you tomorrow at noon.  Where should we meet?"

            "Oh, um, here at the school.  My office.  There are plenty of seats."

            "Alright.  I'll go talk to Christopher.  We'll see you tomorrow."

            "Goodnight then, Ms. House."

 

             Maxwell's mom put down the phone and sat in silence for what seemed to be hours.  She had no idea what to think about the craziness that was made privy to her just now.  What was really going on with her son, anyway?  In all of her confusion she didn’t even know that her son had slipped out and was headed for the cave.  

            Terrible confusion is the only thing in her mind. She laid down on the couch. Her head was abuzz as it chattered, and slowly a migraine seeped in.  Knowing she was out of Excedrin, she reached her Bible, which was sitting on the coffee table, opened it up, and began to read a few passages.   She sat there reading and she assimilated the contents of the passages so ever familiar to her,  and the anxiety that had possessed her just moments before started to recede into the background.

           

            Slam!

           

            Maxwell's mother was startled awake.   She immediately determined the location of the sound.   It was the kitchen.  'What's he doing?'  "Christopher, are you there?  Are you okay, honey?" 

            As she waited for no reply, she got up and went to the kitchen to see what was going on and just as she entered, she noticed something unusual.  It was a path of mud from the back door to the laundry room.  She followed it, horrified at the mess she was witnessing, and as she opened the laundry room door, she shrieked.

            There was her son, all the way down to his underpants with his clothes all in a pile on the floor next to the washing machine completely caked in mud and dirt. 

            Maxwell himself was completely filthy, from head to toe.  There was something in his appearance that wasn't quite right.  As he took off his socks he slowly and blankly looked at his mother, dropped the socks on the floor, and walked past her. 

             This was a most peculiar thing.  Maxwell’s mother followed her son as he stormed off, towards his bedroom.  His face didn’t show any sign that he had even recognized his mother’s presence.  It was very much as if a zombie were walking in front of her and not her son. 

            She clutched her Bible as tightly as she could.  "Dear Lord, please protect my baby boy!," she prayed as she slowly walked up the stairs to his bedroom door and knocked.  No reply.

            She knocked again.

             "Maxwell, are you okay?"