A Vision of Fire

“I mean no disrespect, but there are still flat-earthers too,” she said.

He smiled benignly. “Tell me why you reject it.”

She collected her thoughts. “I don’t believe in a cosmic scorekeeper. That seems to be the general conception of God, with heaven as a reward for subjective behavior that changes from culture to culture. I also don’t believe that a soul is a kind of immaterial flash drive where things get stored and then dumped into—”

She stopped herself.

“Yes?” Vahin smiled. “A waiting body? A body weakened by injury or trauma, a body hungry for strong, healing energy?”

Caitlin shook her head. “No. I don’t accept it. That isn’t what’s happening.”

“Self-immolation. A father almost assassinated. A stepmother’s near-drowning. The loss of parents in a horrible mass poisoning.”

“That’s trauma and natural human empathy,” Caitlin said. “I see it all the time. Obviously, I’m feeling it, yet I haven’t suffered a trauma.”

“Haven’t you? Haven’t you shared the traumas of these children?”

“As I said, empathy. That’s not the same as experiencing it firsthand.”

“In fact, your experience could in some ways be worse,” he suggested. “You are collecting these experiences and internalizing them. They may be massing exponentially.”

Okay, she thought. He could be right about that. Caitlin had always kept a strong emotional connection out of the doctor-patient equation. These kids had broken through that.

“But you are missing the point,” Vahin went on. “You are trying to explain away before I can explain.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I truly am. I’m being—well, I’m doing what I always do. Forgive me. Please enlighten me.”

Vahin took a moment to consider his approach. “I believe that the common link between these children you have met is trauma, but not just their own trauma.”

“What are you saying?” Caitlin asked. “That there is something else that links them?”

He nodded.

“Your transpersonal plane? The place that’s all around us?” she guessed, still unconvinced.

“You doubt,” Vahin said. “But accept, for a moment, the truth of what I say. Think of the bond those three children’s souls would instantly share. Then multiply that by the countless souls you have not personally met. What else could cause them to experience that level of anguish?”

The suffering implicit in the nightmarish math of that prospect gave her a chill. “All right,” Caitlin said. “Let’s say for the sake of argument that there are traumatized souls somewhere else—let’s call it your transpersonal plane. The assaults I’ve witnessed would suggest that these ‘countless’ souls are opportunistically seeking souls inside the bodies of traumatized youths.”

“Correct.”

“So assuming all of that to be true, why are these loud, aggressive souls getting stronger now?”

“That I cannot say.”

Caitlin sat back hopelessly.

“But as you seek understanding,” Vahin went on, “keep this in mind. These ‘aggressive souls,’ as you call them, may be from one event, souls that are already powerfully linked.”

“One event? But where?”

“The transpersonal plane is boundless. Do not seek them somewhere else. Look for them somewhen else.”

CHAPTER 28

Maanik and her mother stood bundled in their winter coats, watching the morning sun from the penthouse balcony. As the golden rays warmed their faces, the young woman said, “It feels almost like summer.”

Hansa, shivering, hugged her daughter close, happy that she was feeling anything. This was an unexpected blessing after the difficulties of the last two days. Her husband had barely been home since the attack at Jammu. This morning when Hansa woke, he had already left again. Maanik had awakened early as well. Hansa found her lying on her side, absently stroking Jack London, and she had readily agreed to come outside.

“What do you think?” Hansa asked, looking across the long balcony, wanting to savor the time with her. “We could do some homeschooling out here, catch up on some of your homework.”

Her daughter seemed to be smiling, her head tilted toward the sun, her eyes shut.

“Maanik?”

“Yes?”

“What do you think about that?”

Maanik moved slowly in her natural spotlight. “I’m sorry?”

“Homeschooling, out here.”

“I like it,” she replied.

Hansa gave her a little squeeze and began to rearrange the chairs, pulling a couple of large potted plants out of the way. She was startled to see how weak she had become and resolved to start her walking routine again.

“Maanik, how do you think I would do on your father’s NordicTrack?”

Maanik laughed.

“Do you think that’s funny?” her mother asked, smiling. “Maybe when you’re feeling better, you can teach me.”

“It makes me tired.”

“That machine? You can outrun your father.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Maanik said.

“Don’t you want to stay out here a little longer? You look so happy here.”

“I want to lie down.” Suddenly, she sounded frail.

Hansa walked toward her. “Let me help—”

“I can do it.”