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Journey to Sxtlan
by Vivian Darkbloom
Synapse 2
As I watched in the glacier blue moonlight beneath sleeping giant
trees towering dark and heavy in frozen stillness above me, the
swirling tracers lingering in the atmosphere now thick with
floating globular cactus-pixels in shades of Jimi Hendrix solos,
though bereft as I was of the portable cassette player, I
remembered at once my secret urgent mission, that which had been
wrested from me the recent diagonal events, an obvious ploy by
the Pope and the President, who had joined together to prevent me
from tapping into the limitless voltage of cosmic power hidden in
the space between the electrons, thus discovering the innermost
secret leading to complete dominion over the entire universe.
From the corner of my eye, I saw what appeared to be a
hummingbird, hovering nearby. When I looked in its direction, it
cocked its head curiously, and spun off after a few seconds.
It was obvious that the CIA had unleashed the small child in a
diagonal path so similar to the one taken only a day previously
by the two girls, only theirs had traversed the grassy quad
between dorms, whereas I now knelt studying the tilework of a
parallel quad between theatre and auditorium, where here the
grassy midsection had been replaced with the mysterious sinister
tilework. The breeze felt unusually cold against my skin, raising
the spectre of a nagging thought that I could not place, of
something important I might have forgotten, but I pushed away the
temptation to consider it, knowing it was merely distraction from
my urgent mission.
I thought of nipples crushed against fabric, knowing instantly
that the idea was merely a burnt red herring, inserted into my
mind by the hidden imperceptible electrodes that the government
had implanted via the inescapable Federal 1040 income tax form,
and that my only hope of concealment was to cling furiously to
the secret mission: to decipher the meanings of the black and
white tilework beneath my feet. It was obviously the work of an
ancient, highly advanced civilization. I easily deduced that the
masonry had been executed by means of spaceships flown in from
nearby starsystem, under the guidance of an ancient Aztec
priestess, whose strange sexual habits had revealed to her the
crucial secret which I must discover by morning, or the world
might erode into the abyss of eternal non-being. The cool breeze
again raised the nagging thought of something indistinct that
might be important somehow, but again I pushed it away knowing it
would only slow down my progress in accomplishing the salvation
of the world.
Gently, I stroked the stonework of the tiles, only to discover
that, in my good fortune, the mescaline had revealed its inner
cottony layer of softness, and each one lifted up slightly to
meet my finger as I touched it, thus allowing me to instantly
glean the mechanism by which the tiles would each rise up and
drift around, shifting position nightly to reflect the attunement
with the stars.
My mind was clear, quick, calm and sharp, functioning with
greater efficiency than ever I had experienced before. Genius
sparkled within my synapses. With effortless precision, I
recalled the details of the advanced encryption class I had spent
the afternoon partaking of, just a few hours ago. The blacks and
whites of the tiles corresponded clearly with the modulo-two
polynomials we had been factoring, and instantly the million
possibilities twenty one tiles immediately before me, three rows
of seven, a language in powers of two of megaplexes of
megalomanic megopolii.
The Feistel network obviously implicated in the asymmetrical keys
implied in the keystones of the archway surrounding the seven
threes, primely factored as they were into three sevens, jumped
to the center of my attention. This realization changed
everything. Clearly now, the NSA had joined in with the priests
and the president in order to foil my urgent mission. This
evidence could not be ignored. Not only were the tiles written in
the strange but beautiful script of the ancient civilisation of a
hundred and eight lightyears distant, but now they had been
encrypted as well.
That explained everything!
I exhaled a sigh of perseverance, now understanding the
exactitude of why the meaning and significance in the tiles had
waxed so elusive, and having just realized by how many orders of
magnitude had my task incremented. Yet now was my task all the
more pressing, to liberate the soul of the Aztec Queen, whose
released power would rapidly unleash the sexual mysteries lurking
beneath the surfaces of all objects.
A deep color-laden shadow crossed over the tiles as I was
examining them. I could feel its incursion scraping over my skin
like a chisel.
I looked up to see the little blonde girl of whom I had just
spoken, gazing down curiously to see what I was studying. It had
indeed been the shadow of her head, so sweetly adorned with long
straight silken locks.
Instantly, my mind went blank. Something in her innocent presence
brought all mental dialog to a sudden halt.
"Hi," she said. "What are you doing?"
I exhaled in exasperation. To be burdened with explaining such
urgent complexities to a mere child. "It's very important," I
said.
"Oh," she replied, apparently satisfied with my clever decoy of a
response.
I looked down once more, resuming my study of the Feistel network
embedded in the modulo-two arithmetic implicated by the complex
alien masonry. I could not be fettered by pointless distraction
at a time like this.
"How come you haven't got any clothes on?" she asked simply.
The thought that had been nagging so annoyingly now pushed its
way into my mind, with the sharp coolness of the breeze pricking
up the goosebumps on my skin. Looking down at my hands and feet,
I observed that I was indeed completely naked.
Such nefarious trickery! The governmental agencies had obviously
conspired to lay yet another obstacle before my path, yet
dauntless I must persevere. Feeling the sharpness of my
phenomenal concentration starting to slip, yet only slightly, I
realized I had to think, and quickly! Reaching down to where I
had set it on the ground, I resumed once again the indica-and-
hashish joint, deftly sparking a match and inhaling the
clarifying vapors. Now, what had transpired, to rob me of my
superficial outer garb? I had to come up with a plan! My memory
drew forth only confusion and darkness.
I looked up to see the clear wideset eyes of the girl fastened to
me, wide eyes beneath blonde bangs, a faint smile playing across
her face like a careless game of hopscotch.
I felt something stirring within me.
"Is that your wee-wee maker?" she asked, pointing.
I looked down. "I suppose it is," I said.
"How did it get so big?" she asked.
My mind drew a blank once again. How did children come up with
such infernal questionings? Particularly at such a time, when the
ancient Aztec energies had released themselves sufficiently to
commence an awkward stiffening in my sexual organs. So many
urgencies, now this! I must not let an innocent child witness
such a thing. Perhaps she had been possessed by the soul of the
Maya Queen! The Queen of illusions!
Standing up, I knew I had to get away, to conceal my sexual
desire from one so pure. An emergency state of affairs. Yet for
some reason, I could not formulate a plan. Knowing I desperately
needed to clear my mind in order to resume normal mental
operation, I took another deep pull from the indica and hashish
joint. It sparked angrily, and thick smoke rose from the end. One
of the chunks of hashish must have caught fire.
"It's going all pointy and uplike," she said. "Could I touch it?"
It was then that I knew that the girl must have concealed in her
being, the keys to the cipher. The trickery of the entombed
queen, laughing with ancient wisdom beneath the mysterious
tilework! Handing off the secret to such an unlikely decoy. Yes
indeed, would we foil the governmental-networked effort of evil
spies to derail the salvation of the universe!
Before I could answer, the girl had reached out and run her
finger delicately up the arching of the stiffening curve now
growing before me, sending shivers of desire twitching through my
pelvis, down my thighs. Her face appeared larger than life,
hovering near my midsection, her moist lips only inches away from
the tip of my desire.
"Hey!" I said.
She let out a twisted giggle, hunching over oddly with the pull
of the laughter. The sound of her taunting mirth grabbed
something deep inside of me and drew me close. Like a long lash,
whipping out to wrap around the base of my spine, and magnetize
the radiating, whirling wheels of my lower chakras, activating
the serpentine kundalini of my tantric sexual transcendence.
My secret mission notwithstanding, I could not let such an
affront to my dignity persist. She walked backwards, in sandals,
still giggling, waiting for me to come after her, taunting me
with her eyes. Her thin legs were clad in long white shorts that
ended above her slender knees, her flat narrow chest concealed by
the mere thin cloth of a striped T-shirt.
As I stood there, watching her slowly getting away from me, the
realization dawned. I must release the keys that she held within
her, or I would never unravel the cipher of the black and white
tiles! I bolted towards her, which led to an downpour of
giggling, as she turned away and started to run in earnest. Man,
was she fast. I followed her into the darkness of woods, lit only
by dappled moonlight. The sod was spongy and soft beneath my
feet.
I saw her flash between the trees, caught momentarily in a
moonbeam, the light of the lunar queen whose night it was to rule
the starry sky, whose mantle tumbled down in rays that left
patches of icy-blue white here and there on all sides beneath the
trees.
We erupted from the forest into a grassy clearing, and she
tumbled down onto the lawn. I followed, and soon we were
wrestling, rolling across the grass. Something was different: I
noticed that she had lost her shirt. For a moment, the cloth of
her shorts pressed fleshy warmth against my erection. Then, up
she had sprung once more.
"Ok, now you're it. Now I have to chase you," she declared.
"Better get away, or I'll tickle!" Her fingers stroked
irritatingly against the sole of my right foot.
Already out of breath, I stood up quickly. How could I have left
the mosaic? The secret tiles would shift, and all of my labor
would be in vain! Desperately, I sprang forward, retreating back
down the path on which we had come, or so I thought. I had to
come up with a plan, and quickly! Was the girl truly the holder
of the asymmetrical key? Or had some other player intercepted the
Queen's command, and perverted the girl's intent into some
nefarious form, for dashing to pieces my quest to save the world
from its immanent destruction?!
I heard her giggling behind me. Stumbling through the darkness,
my feet encountered the painful contours of rocks and tree-roots.
I had to slow my pace, picking my way through to the smooth path,
but when the flood of moonlight appeared before me, there was no
tilework. I had become hopelessly lost! Only grassy meadow,
sloping down to a sandy beachfront beside a still lake.
As I stumbled out onto the grass, she leaped up on my back,
piggyback style, legs wrapped around my waist, her soft folds
pressed against the small of my back. From the absence of fabric,
I gathered that she had now lost her cute little shorts, though
she was still wearing sandals, which explained her ability to
traverse so effortlessly the roots and rocks strewn across the
dark forest earth.
She giggled, out of breath, as I was. Her weight threw me off
balance, and I sunk to my knees in the grass. I could not lie
face-down in the grass, on account of the forward protrusion
erected by my lower chakras, so I fell back somehow on my back.
She sat heavily on my chest, now completely naked, aside from her
sandals.
She reached out, smiling, and pinched both of my earlobes
simultaneously. Her labia pressed warmly, moistly against my
belly button, elbows on the grassy earth, the warmth of her
breath brushed my lips, as she stared down at my open mouth with
her large wideset eyes.
A surge of compassion poured through me. Whether or not her
missive was genuinely from the Queen, I felt an intense love for
this tiny messenger of the universal truth. Softly, I reached up
and kissed her lips with mine. The energy from her giggles
crumbled into shivering sensuality as she kissed me back. We
writhed together in tantalizing tension, pressing and pulling
with mindless, instinctive longing. I placed my hands on her soft
buttocks, gently kneading the delicate pliability of her pale
flesh.
After we had been kissing for a while, she sat up abruptly,
buttocks pressing into my chest, smiling widely.
She stood up. "I gotta wee-wee," she pronounced, then started to
giggle as she stood over me, spreading her legs as if joking that
she would release herself onto me. My erection vibrated at the
thought. Of course! The key that was within her! Now the cipher
would be revealed!
I nodded to her. "Yes," I whispered, thrusting my pelvis upward
slightly.
At first she looked as if she didn't believe me, but then she
gave a look of particular concentration, and soon I felt the wet
warmth of her inner liquid as it arced forth from her sweet fold,
releasing onto my quivering arrow. The pungent odor at once
revulsed and attracted me, knowing that I was sharing one of her
darkest, most intimate secrets. When the spattering ceased, she
sat smiling, down once more upon me, and we kissed again, mouths
speaking in wordless tongues of intimacy, bodies writhing
together soaked in the dirty secret of her bodily fluids.
"Swim?" I asked, when our lips once more had parted. She nodded
almost imperceptibly. It was the gesture of subtle command, a
Queen's charge of authority. "Your wee-wee maker could go inside
of mine."
How would I ever shield her innocent purity from the ravages of
rank corruption?
We both got up, and with near simultaneity, both dove into the
chilly, pure refreshing water of the lake. We laughed and tumbled
for awhile, but it was too early in the season for the water to
be warm enough to stay in for long. As we got out, we were both
shivering. My stiffness had been replaced with flacidity. It
occurred to me that it would be actually possible to die out
here, to perish of exposure or starvation. Clearly, I had no idea
where I was. The lonely barrenness of the woods impinged like a
steel marlinspike.
I wasn't ready to die: I still had to pass my chemistry exam! I
was fairly certain that death would cause me to fail the class,
which somehow wasn't quite fair. I was trying to remember what it
said in the syllabus. At least couldn't I get partial credit? I
know they make you pay taxes after you've died, so by the same
logic wouldn't it make sense to let me pass the class? Maybe I
could get a note from the dean.
It was then that I saw something I barely believed, a yellow
flickering through the woods. I was trying to remember where the
lake was, on our campus map. In fact, I didn't recall ever having
seen it.
Who might be responsible for the flickering light? Did someone
have a campfire? Who on earth could it be? Hopefully not some
mind-addled transient bum hopelessly addicted to corporate
chemicals. The last thing I needed, to interfere with my urgent
mission to save the entire civilized world as we know it, was to
encounter some drug-crazed freak!
Wordlessly, we both walked towards the faint light, both drawn by
the promise of warmth.
When we got there, we found that it was indeed a campfire,
attended by an Indian woman. She wore draped around her the
traditional garb of the Native Americans. Her faint smile was
sympathetic. It was as though she had been expecting us. She
looked up and opened her hand in a gesture of welcome. Her other
hand was stirring some odd mixture of herbs infused in water over
the fire. Before the flickering flames, a blanket was laid out
with pillows, a place for each of us.
We took her wordless offer of warmth and sat down. Did she even
speak English? Did she speak at all? The flames were comforting
in their calid benediction of thermal increase.
The old woman put down the spoon and sat calmly beside us,
completing our half-circle of three before the altar of warmth. I
say "old," as she had the air of ancient wisdom about her, but
when I studied her face, her skin and features were smooth and
silky, of timeless youth. Even her wrinkles and grey hair seemed
paradoxically youthful in some manner. Her hair was wrapped in
what seemed to be a turquoise-colored scarf, though the colors
were indistinct in the moonlight and firelight.
"You are making good progress," she said. "The coyote has been
powerful in your mind, but still you have managed to find your
spirit guide," she gestured at the girl, "and bring her
incarnation into the realm of a physical partner. And you have
opened a door into one of the lesser realms beyond. Now all that
remains is to discover the passageway into the greater heavenly
realms of Love."
"But how --" I began. She held up her hand, gesturing for
silence.
"You must drink this potion, which will strengthen your seeing.
For you are of the pale race, so you are initially incapable of
higher seeing without the medicinal herbs. If you persevere in
your studies, you may overcome your limitation, but for now, this
potion will enable you to see the energy threads which connect
all things, as well as the passageways between worlds, which open
in the moments between time and eternity.
"You must now reach your climax with your spirit guide in the
center of the mosaic, over the tomb of the Incan Princess, and
she will release you into the world of your belonging. This is
your sacred task. Your spirit guide will lead you back into your
world to find it. But first, you should rest a while."
"But what about the NSA encryption scrambling the binary
polynomial equation dictating the layout of the tilework?" I
demanded. She looked scoldingly at me, as if I had said something
sounding completely insane. I fell silent, gazing into the
dancing spirit of the laughing flames. The girl reached over and
took my hand, leaning against me. Then she squirmed her way into
my lap.
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