Aria Remains
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

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Aria edged through the trees, twisting her body away from the branches and bracken, being careful where she placed her painful feet. After some time she approached a clearing and could see, just beyond the last scattered trees, a small wood-framed building with a thatched roof, a line of smoke rising from its centre. Unsure why she felt it necessary but almost forced by an unremembered habit to do it, she crouched so that she was half-hidden by the trunk of a tree and studied the structure. Set in the small space, the hut was battered and weather-beaten, with a dark woollen curtain that covered the door. Stretching away from it was a valley, lined with plants that appeared withered and dry.

I know this place, she thought. This is somewhere I’ve been before, or… maybe I only dreamt about it. But why? What’s so special about it, this miserable little shack, stuck in the middle of nowhere? As she looked she heard, again, the sound of a barking dog, coming from somewhere ahead of her, perhaps from the dying valley beyond. At least it’s okay, she thought. At least it wasn’t badly injured. Breathing a sigh of relief, she leaned forward slightly, trying to see if there was anything else around the hut. There was nothing, or nothing she could see from her cramped position and so, deciding she should go to the dog, she got to her feet and, still being cautious not to damage herself any further, she emerged from the copse.

She whistled and called out, ‘Where are you? Come on, dog, come on.’

Walking by the side of the hut, looking towards the valley, she neither saw nor heard any sign of the animal.

She whistled again but, still, there was nothing.

‘Come on, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.’

She waited for a few moments and then, assuming the dog had run off somewhere else, chasing through the moribund plants and bushes, she thought she might look inside the hut. Despite the line of smoke rising from its roof there was no sign that anyone was around and, she hoped, she might replace something inside that could be of some use, maybe a clue, a sign, anything that might help her make sense of all this. Where else, she wondered, might help be? Where else would she replace any information? So, looking around once more as she moved to the front of the hut, she reached for the curtain and…

A sudden, tremendously bright flash of white light blinded her, so powerful it caused her to step away from the doorway, covering her eyes with her hand. She took another step back, her other arm stretched to the side for balance but she caught her foot on something and fell, hitting the ground heavily, knocking the air from her body. Slowly removing her hand from her eyes, the treetops silhouetted against the bright blue sky coming slowly into focus, she realised that she had hit her head against something. She lifted her hand, her arm stiff and shaking, and felt the back of her skull, the nape of her neck and, bringing her hand back around, she saw that her head must be bleeding. It began to throb, to pulse solidly and, with nausea swirling inside her stomach, gradually her eyes closed again.

She became, then, aware of several things all at the same time, hazy memories and snatched fragments of conversation mixing together, whirling in her mind, casting her as the outsider, the observer of her own life. She was seeing herself in the third person, watching moments of her existence as if they were being played out on a stage while she, sitting in the balcony, could do nothing but look on. She saw herself at home with her parents, in the perfectly nice, perfectly average semi-detached house with its cream walls and flowery carpets, the muted greens and reds and purples. She would be doing her homework or trying to ignore her father, rapping on her door and asking her to keep the music down, if you can call that music, each scene flashing by in just a few seconds yet losing none of its substance or completeness, then rapidly followed by another.

School, college, Allison’s youth club, boys and men, girls and women, happiness and despair. Nights of wine and Ruby, days of taking photographs of other people’s weddings, the invited interloper, always there but never really seen. Journals, computers, the post office, the garage on the other side of Pearl Street. The headmistresses’ office, the police woman. The car crash, the loss. Such a stupid, pointless loss.

It wasn’t an accident, something told her, something that she now knew had long been secluded deep inside her mind. It wasn’t an accident, it was choreographed; it was fated, predetermined. It happened for a reason. It had to be that way. Robert and Sam - the same thing with them, the same predestination. They could not stand, could not play their roles because they were not integral to the story. They gave what you needed them to give, they made you feel again. Just enough for it to be painful when they were gone, enough to spark you back to life, to prise you open so you would be aware of what has always been around you, that which had become lost, that you had chosen to lose.

It will become clear soon enough, as it always does. Soon thee shall understand, and thou shall knowest what it is that thou needs to do. Thee be here simply because it be where thou are supposed to be.

What did I choose? Why did they all have to die?

She neither thought nor spoke her questions, yet they came to be as though they had always been.

The perfunctory impression of the passing of time, she considered, or perhaps heard, that great and heinous illusion must, at some stage, extract its price, must require its indemnification. Memories must, on occasion, be repudiated, must be set aside so what is really important becomes more clear, can develop its focus, the latent becoming visible. The memories themselves are, if you will, nothing more than microscopic particles waiting to be fixed, to be made permanent. But permanence cannot fully escape its inherent evanescence. All things will pass, just as all things shall prevail. And it is you, Aria, you who must remain. Today, as yesterday and tomorrow.

‘I am here,’ Aria said aloud, to all the universes, some of which continue to exist without discovery although they are no less as attentive as all others, and at the same time to nobody, since nobody must be the final summation, the final reckoning of everybody. She opened her eyes as slowly as she could, trying to arrest the brightness of the day.

She sat up with effort, wincing at the pain in her spine, and then reached a hand to the back of her head. This time there was no blood, no throbbing. As she sat on the grass, rubbing her eyes, looking around, she became aware that she was no longer alone. As yet seeing no one, still she could feel there was someone there, another person somewhere on this deserted land. She got to her feet, stretched her back, rearranged her twisted tee shirt and, without knowing exactly why, she began walking in the direction of the valley beyond the hut, where the plants and grasses were dry and dying.

Following the uneven trail, looking at the browning vegetation at either side of her as she went, it was when she turned the final bend that she saw something else. A shape. A figure. Standing at the edge of a body of water, looking from side to side, held almost in silhouette by the bright sun’s reflection from the glistening surface. It was only when she had taken a few more steps, moving as quietly as she could, half afraid, half compelled, that she realised that somehow, in some amazing, indefinable way, it was him and he was there.

Aria saw the man she had been seeing everywhere, the man who was always around.

She froze, suddenly aware of the tremendous beating of her heart, of the anxiety that was now flooding through her body. Her legs felt weak, her mouth dry. At the same time the man fifty feet ahead of her slowly turned and then, directly facing her, simply stared. They stayed in this fixed, disbelieving position for what seemed to be several minutes and, Aria thought, the water, too, ceased its motion, the breeze that had been vainly attempting to revive the dying plants and shrubs dropped away. Everything, it seemed, had stopped, waiting and watching, the universes having heard her announcement now reaching a temporary cessation.

In unison, as though each was reflected in the other’s mirror, they gradually began walking towards one another, closer and closer, clearer and clearer.

‘It’s you,’ Aria said. ‘But, how can it be you? How can you be here?’

‘There are many things I need to tell you,’ the man said. ‘There are many things you need to understand.’

‘But how are you here? How can you be here, with me?’

‘Just as you are here,’ he said. ‘I have always been with you. I have always been where you are.’

They were now less than five feet apart, examining each other, studying one another’s faces.

‘You never saw me, though,’ Aria said. ‘I was seeing you everywhere, but you never saw me.’

A look of melancholy shaded the man’s face. ‘Sometimes you saw me and talked to me,’ he said. ‘You spent time with me, even though you didn’t know that it was me. You were always so kind, so good to me. And I tried, I have been trying to replace you.’

Aria took a few steps back, stung by what she considered to be untruths.

‘I think I would remember talking to you. I saw you all the time, always looking very busy, always rushing off somewhere, but never once did you look in my direction. I saw you so often I was starting to think you were the world’s worst stalker, or that you were just trying to mess with me somehow, doing something to my brain.’

She paused, watching him as he continued to watch her, with no expression other than the feint twilight of his sadness. ‘I followed you once,’ she said, taking a step closer again. ‘In the park, and I followed you through town, but you just disappeared.’

‘My time was limited within that place. I wasn’t able to control how long I was there, and it was so difficult to even get there at all. But I sensed you. Always.’

He took a breath, looking into her eyes. She gazed into his, succumbing to the depth of them; such a warm and beautiful shade of brown, so rich and inviting. She felt very strongly that she had looked into them before, many times, but knew that it would have been impossible since she could not recall ever having seen them.

‘I do remember that day. I could feel you, so close, but I just wasn’t allowed to see you.’

‘What do you mean, you weren’t allowed?’ Aria asked, frowning. She realised that, beyond his left shoulder, the water had begun flowing again, and the breeze had returned, ruffling his hair. For the first time she noticed the unusual clothes he was wearing, the dark woollen tunic and linen trousers, some smears of blood across them.

‘Did you hurt yourself?’ she asked.

He looked down, noticing the blood.

‘That isn’t mine,’ he said. ‘I have been meaning to clean myself, but there has been so much else to do and I am so limited in this place.’

When he raised his head he appeared chastened, guilty.

‘There are many things I need to tell you,’ he said, looking around. ‘There is a great deal for you to learn that I wish you could have known before. But we are here now, although we cannot stay. We need to go to the safe place, where we’ll be hidden.’

‘Hidden from what?’ Aria asked, turning to look behind her. ‘I don’t even know what’s going on. I don’t even know what I’m doing here.’

By the time she had looked back to him he was already several feet away, walking along the edge of the water. She began moving quickly so she could catch up with him, seeing now that it was a wide, fast-flowing river that seemed only to encounter hills at either shore, disappearing around turns in both directions.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, her voice raised against the sound of the rushing water. It seemed that it had started to surge much more quickly, that it was rushing to join them, to show them the way.

‘Not far,’ he answered, without turning.

Aria noticed that, the further along the muddy gravel they walked, the higher the land rose at her side until, reaching the point where the man had stopped, the ridge stood at a height of at least fifteen feet.

‘Here,’ he said, pointing. ‘We won’t be discovered in here.’

But who is looking for us? Aria wondered, following his indication and then gasping at what she saw. Growing from the dry earth of the edge of the eminence was the same formation, the same arrangement of branches she knew she had seen before, that had appeared to her as a symbol or as a shadow or… she tried to remember but found herself wanting, unable to place their earlier appearances, continuing to stare at the unusual display that seemed to be as fingers, stretching out, clawing at the mouth of a cave.

‘I can’t go in there,’ she said, pulling a face.

‘Why not?’

Aria thought for a moment, trying to ignore the soreness of her feet, looking behind her and then across to the other side of the water, at the thick grouping of trees and their distance from her. She wanted to tell him that it would be insane of her to go into this dark, secret place with someone she didn’t know - or didn’t remember knowing, despite what he had said and despite having seen him everywhere - and that she wasn’t going to put herself into such a completely helpless position where he could do anything he wanted to her but then, she sighed, she was completely at his mercy, anyway. He could do whatever he wanted and there was no one around who could help her.

He smiled and then, as though hearing her thoughts, said, ‘Please, there’s no need to worry. I am not here to do you any harm. All I am here to do is to help you, so that you can help me. Trust me. I just want to guide you, to show you where to go. Think of me as a lighthouse, guiding you to your sanctuary, showing you the way home.’

Aria bit her bottom lip, thinking it a strange thing for him to have said. Then she remembered, again, following him through the park and into the town, how she had thought him the north star and of her attachment to this transverse orientation. Then she recalled what the four strange, glowing figures had said to her.

Thee can trust him and he will show thee all that needs to be done.

It has to be him they were talking about, she thought. She swallowed, looked behind once more and then followed him into the darkness.

The first part of the cave was low and tapered, requiring them to stoop slightly but then, after they had gone just a few feet along the passage, it opened into a vast, capacious expanse. It reminded Aria of the kind of caves she had seen on TV, spikes of rock jutting down from the top and, perhaps twenty feet below them, skewering the floor. But, she thought, at the same time wondering where the source of light that illuminated the enormous chamber like a theatre stage could be coming from, those kinds of caves were always underwater.

The man turned slightly and then held out his hand.

‘This part can get a little bit treacherous, especially if you’re not used to it,’ he said, shaking his hand and looking down to it. ‘Take my hand, just for a moment.’

Since she thought she was well beyond the point of any possible return, Aria shrugged and grabbed his hand, following him along an extremely narrow and precarious ridge that, very gradually, became a flight of slick, jagged steps that led to the floor of the cave. When they were close to the bottom she let go of him, then moved a few feet away as they stood on the floor. The rock was wet, making it difficult for her to balance, her bare feet slipping against its surface. He held his hand out to her again, but she shook her head. Then she became aware of something in her periphery, moving along the wall beside her.

’What is that?’ she said loudly, stepping back from the large cave spider clambering across the rock. As she spoke there came a sudden, elephantine cacophony of sound, a mass of buzzing and squeaking, rustling and fluttering. She looked up to see thirty, perhaps forty bats flying around the cave, moving as one coordinated swarm.

‘It’s just the bats,’ the man said. ‘We’ve disturbed them, that’s all. If we are quiet they shall soon return to their roost.’

‘I don’t think I like it here, much,’ Aria said, shivering as she watched the bats above, now speaking much more quietly.

The man smiled, then pointed to the far side of the cavern.

‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘There is a place you must see and, when we are there, when we are obscured, I can tell you what you need to know.’

Aria reluctantly agreed, avoiding the stalagmites and the puddles of freezing water, the centipedes and beetles. She almost raised her voice again as a salamander scampered across her path but, not wanting to further disturb the bats who appeared to have settled back into their slumber, she managed to suppress her surprise. As they went she began to feel very cold, despite the ambient temperature being only slightly cooler than it had been outside.

When they reached the point to which he had been pointing, he said, ‘Now, this part might seem slightly difficult to negotiate, but just do as I do and you shall be fine.’

Aria frowned, looking at the dead end of the cave wall ahead of them, trying to see what he meant. She saw nothing obvious, nowhere they could possibly go but, as she watched, he closed his eyes and held his hand against the rock engendering a narrow crack to develop within it. It grew quickly, stretching up and across, a bright light revealed behind it.

‘What…?’

Aria could say no more as the fracture became wide enough to allow them through and, taking her hand, this time without invitation, he pulled her into it. On the other side she realised they were in a room, its rock clearly having been carved away manually, formed not by any natural process as the other formations in the cave had been but by human hands, by people digging out the space and then smoothing the walls.

‘Where are we?’ she asked, then noticed something else. On the other side of the room, ten feet away, something was glowing, pulsing, its blue-green radiance difficult to look directly at but, at the same time, it was mesmerising, holding her gaze. It was almost as though it was a living thing, breathing and looking back at her, inviting her forwards.

‘Please,’ the man said. He was sitting on a block of rock that had been fashioned into a kind of seat and, as he smiled up at her, he tapped his hand on a second block next to him. ‘Come and sit, and I shall tell you everything.’

‘What’s that?’ Aria asked, still looking at the pulsing light.

The man looked at it as though it was nothing more than another seat, that it wasn’t of any interest at all.

‘That’s the door,’ he said obtusely.

‘Door?’

‘It’s the way out, and the way in. It will take us where we need to go.’

Seeing that Aria was confused, he continued, ‘The only way I think I can describe it, so that you might understand, is that it’s kumulipo. I believe that’s the name very recently given to it, as it has been called since the beginning of time. It’s like…’ He looked to the floor, thinking. ‘It’s like a black hole,’ he went on, choosing his words, ‘but not in the way you might know it. The black holes you may be familiar with are considered a region from where no light or anything else can escape but, as you can see, that isn’t entirely accurate in this instance. The kumulipo is similar to a black hole, or at least a fragment of a black hole, and it provides a way to travel from one place to another, from one time to another. It can be used quite safely, quite easily.’

‘So, what you’re saying to me is,’ Aria replied, turning to face him, ‘is that you have a piece of a black hole, just sitting in your cave here, but it’s not the kind of black hole that just squashes and destroys anything that comes near it but, rather, it’s a doorway to, what, another dimension?’

The man, apparently not recognising her incredulousness, nodded and, sounding pleased, said, ‘Yes, that’s right. And not just another dimension, but all dimensions. It is, if you want to look at it this way, a larger, more complex version of the doorway you passed through when you came to this place.’

Aria coughed and scratched her head. ‘You know about that?’

‘Of course,’ the man said, tapping the rock seat again. ‘It was me who brought you to it. Now, please, come and sit, and I’ll explain everything that’s happened, and everything that is going to happen next.’