7

Into the initiation room

The room appeared to extend forever in every direction. Mirrors on the walls, floors, and ceilings reflected each other infinitely and Jon felt transported out of time, as if existing in a place between dimensions.

He tried to remind himself that it was only a room of mirrors—an illusion—but he could imagine the effect it would have had on somebody thousands of years ago. Even today he could not ignore the mystical aspect of seeing himself copied and projected endlessly into the abyss.

“The walls, as you can see, have no writing on them,” whispered Gabby, holding an orb-shaped light. She closed the door to complete the illusion of the mirrors. “We don’t know anything about the teachings of the Siriadic mysteries, except that mirrors seemed to be important. Our present theory is that Siriadne was a goddess of perception.”

The only thing without mirrors was the crawl space leading into the room from the main chamber, dark as an uncovered well on a moonless night.

Jon had found no priest, and heard no teaching, but the room itself had whispered a message to him in the silence, and as he explored the rest of the temple that afternoon, he felt transformed by a newfound awareness of time and history.

He understood finally that builders had cut those blocks, painters had painted the walls, and priests had walked the hallways year after year; they had all lived out their lives, had worries, cares, passions, fears…

Could the people back then have ever imagined the temple would one day be a heap of rocks? Could they have imagined the teachings they worked so hard to keep secret would be lost in the silence of unrecorded history?

None of us can imagine a time when everything we love and hold close will change so much that it ceases to be recognizable, but this time will always come to pass.

It appears that after leaving the temple, Jon must have been feeling particularly nostalgic, for his Eye archives indicate that he called Brittany Portinari’s number that afternoon, and hung up immediately.

The tour finished with a view of the Vespri Sea crashing against the coast. Jon felt the effect of the tour to be somewhat diminished by the burger shop at the back exit of the temple, filling the air with a greasy beef smell.

Jon, however, was not above ordering a double cheeseburger for lunch, and got one for Gabby as well. They sat together eating on a bench, enjoying a view of the ocean.

“Strange, isn’t it?” said Gabby, “to think that we’re eating burgers in a place that people would have traveled across the country on foot to visit. But kind of awesome, too, if you think about it.”

Jon laughed.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s kind of awesome, in a way.”

“Not all civilizations make it so far that they can build burger joints right next to their sacred temples.”

“The mark of a truly advanced culture.”

“So, what’s with the bike?”

“I’m on an adventure to ride around the continent.”

“Adventure?”

Jon felt silly using that word, but he truly saw it that way.

“Kind of dumb, I know.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s dumb. It’s kind of wonderful.”

Jon grinned shyly.

“You do?”

“I envy your bike-riding ability. Must feel so free.”

“Well, I could teach you…”

After some persuasion, Jon fetched the bike and Gabby threw a leg over it, sitting down and touching her toes to the ground.

“So, I just… push off?”

She walked herself forward a few steps, pushed off, lifted her legs, and brought them down again.

“How in the world am I supposed to pedal without falling off?!”

“You won’t fall as long as you have enough speed.”

“Okay…”

She tried again, this time bringing her feet to the pedals, but her body wobbled and she panicked.

“Nope, nope, nope!”

Jon ran to catch up with her as she came to a stop.

“That was better! You just have to maintain speed.”

Gabby inhaled deeply.

“One more try!”

She kicked off the ground and started pedaling. At first, the bike jerked as she tried to find her balance; but as her speed plateaued, the bike stopped wobbling and she rode in circles around Jon.

“I’m doing it! I’m riding a bike!” Braking, she slid to a stop and her feet dropped to the ground. “I might have to get me one of these.”

“Not so easy nowadays. This one’s an antique.”

“You better be careful with it, then. Stop letting people like me ride it around if you don’t want it driven off a cliff.”

They began walking toward the end of the peninsula together. As the sun went down the sky glowed pink.

“Do you think anyone would mind if I camped out on the peninsula here?”

“The shareholders of the temple probably wouldn’t like it, but technically this is public land. If anyone comes, just tell ‘em to mind their own business.”

Gabby left shortly afterward to close the exhibits and the ticket booth. Jon hoped to meet her again soon on his travels. Then he went to set up his tent.

On the end of the peninsula of Sandwich Spoon, with the ocean in front and on all sides, it looks rather like one is standing at the edge of the earth and gazing out into an endless and empty sea. Jon watched the sun lowering into the water and the sea burned red as he grilled whatever food remained.

Toward evening, he shut off his lights and crawled into the tent, exhausted. It had been a long day. The minutes spent gazing into the fire and hearing the crackle-pop of the flames and the roaring smash of the waves had made his mind quiet. The hour was not late, but after the sun went down and there was only darkness, he felt ready to sleep.

All of this is minutely detailed in Jonathan Vélo’s journals. Do not concern yourself, reader, how we, his biographers, could possibly know the manner in which he ate dinner or fell asleep. Take it from us that these things did happen as we have related them.

We even know that on that night, around two in the morning, Jon woke up to the sound of footsteps outside, moving in a circle around his tent.