Pulse of the Imperium

Dy Wan had led Efren by hand to this place, and even before crossing the threshold he knew he had lived there. Inside, everything was so familiar that it hurt, and seeing his toy tree eel, worn out by the passage of time, still dangling from the roof beam made his eyes burn.

She gestured for him to sit and got to preparing a cold brew herbal tea in wooden cups.



"I speak the tongue you use now, Eph Ren, I learned from your father. I never expected you to come back but here you are, all grown into ways so alien to me and my people. Roger has made you into his likeness. My heart has stopped and doesn't know which way to move now. Shall it rejoice because you will stay or shall it collapse again because you will leave?"

“I don’t know what to say…” He replied slowly as he took in the memories of his home.

“I didn’t know you were still alive…” He began.

“How did… it all happen?”

"What did your father tell you?" She said gently, pouring brownish liquid for both of them.

“He said that he had come to get me once he heard that you had passed away…” He replied pensively.

It was never easy confronting a reality different from one’s own. The combination of possible deceit, misunderstanding, or ignorance leading to a shattered worldview was always unsettling.

"He came for us both, but left only with you. I died to him and you but not to my people. I am the Young Mother, who he made me."

She took a long sip, as if she needed it to tap into distant memories.

"Our hunters found Roger very wounded. He would not tell why he had challenged God. They brought him here and I nursed him back to life and health. For several moons. He felt grateful, then he felt friendly and then he felt more. He decided we should call the spirits. And the spirits brought you after he had left to his world. I became the Young Mother. But he returned later and wanted to take me and you. He wouldn't relent. So the Old Mother agreed it should be you but not me. She knew he wanted you more than me and he agreed. Dy Wan died but the Young Mother has lived."

Her voice was hollow at times that pained her. It was clear that a part of her had truly died with the separation.

It was a lot to take in all at once. Efren’s mind struggled with the new world he was being thrust into.

He began his foray by asking questions…

“What is a Young Mother?”

"One who waits and learns until she becomes the Old Mother."

“Who is God whom father challenged? And how did he make you Young Mother?” He asked. Trying to make sense of the words that didn’t make sense to him.

"God is God. God is everywhere and makes their will known through forest and through spirits. I don't know what Roger had done, but his wounds were both of men and of the forest."

She took another sip.

"I would become the Young Mother after Roger called the Spirit from the Outer World into my body in the way men do. Only a woman who is a vessel for spirits of both worlds and has the wisdom of both worlds can become a Mother for the tribe to guide it inside and outside. Your birth made me the Young Mother. I myself am a child of a stranger who called spirits with the Old Mother many moons ago."

“And what if no one with an outer spirit comes in a generation?” He asked.

"They have always been coming. The Old Mother makes sure."

She looked at him intently.

"Will you answer me now?"

[I guess your statements frame the dilemma.]

“I would learn all I can of our people…” He started.

“I would not have your heart collapse… but I am of two worlds. I do not think I can stay forever… not yet at least. I would learn all I can about who I am though… learn of our ways… learn of the spirits and of God’s role in my life.”

He continued, “So even if I can’t stay… I could speak for you… for all the ones who have come before. I could know of the strength that comes from my roots… not just half of them. And return when God wills it.”

She turned her head to look through the small window toward the waterfalls.

"...I don't know the path you want to walk, Eph Ren. I don't know if this path between exists. Or rather, if God wants it to. If you speak about us, then they hear about us. If they know our strength they know how to match it or use it. We are like water in a cup. Make holes in the cup and water is gone. The Old Mother told you. Outer voices may sometimes come, but they must always leave."

She sighed.

"You cannot become Mother. But one day you can make one."

“Whatever knowledge I am equipped with I can use to protect our people… I don’t know what my future holds… but I know that I wish to be fully myself. Not half of anything, but a whole person.”

He then pondered her final suggestion, “I… what of the child? I know what it is like to be born in such a way…”

"Your father has taught you violence. I don't know if you can still be taught peace. This knowledge is God's."

She sighed, finishing her brew, noticing Efren hadn't touched his.

"After the spirits are called this would be the daughter's home unless you would be like Roger, and take her against our wishes."

Efren looked down at his brew and swirled it around a bit before taking a drink.

Could he do what his father did? Could he ‘call the spirits’ and leave a child? Could he take one from its mother?

He took another drink and sat quietly thinking.

On a tangent to his thinking, it was curious how his mother was certain it would be a daughter. That certainty seemed... well-founded.

The drink made him feel... more. More emotions, his own, hers. It let him look at his own state of mind from the outside, with compassion to his dilemmas.

If sex was such a certainty… why would they call the spirits to make him? Wouldn’t they want a girl?

As his mind drifted out of his own body… he began to see the difficulties of all the people around him. Giving up a child. Wanting a child. Protecting the people. Refusing to kill for the people. Living in nature… with its harmonies and discords.

In the end Efren was not an intellectual giant… he was an emotional person… Emotion guided him and he cared more for how people felt than what it meant. He seemed to understand the feeling more than the inner workings of reality.

And so for him the future of ‘calling spirits’ mattered… because it mattered to the people here. And he wanted them to have everything they needed to survive.

“I love you mother.”

This genuine, pure confession broke Dy Wan's composure. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she shuffled close to him for a tight, motherly embrace. She kissed and ruffled his hair.

"I love you, Eph Ren, my son. I always have. I had already loved you before I asked the spirits for a boy instead of a girl, against the Old Mother's demands. I had defied her for you to be in this world, and I was punished for it, but I have never regretted and never will."

Efren smiled as a tear ran down his cheek.

There weren’t words sufficient for the time… he merely looked her in the eyes and expressed that love again through his gaze.

He was loved in both worlds… maybe not by many… but by at least two people. And that was enough for him.