CHAPTER 23
1325 Words
CHAPTER 23It seemed like it had been a year since Mara had last entered Ping’s empty warehouse off Hawthorne Boulevard in southeast Portland’s warehouse district. It had once been filled with inventory from his former ceramics business, but, these days, it sat empty waiting for the lease to run its course. The door echoed in the darkness as Ping slammed it shut behind them. Mara waited next to the large rolling loading-dock door until he found the huge industrial light switch and pushed it upward with the ball of his hand.
A bank of fluorescent tubes clattered on, illuminating the center of the warehouse floor where a whiteboard stood with three mats arranged in front of it. A scraped-up metal cabinet with a noticeable dent in its side listed at a slight angle to the right of the whiteboard.
“Look, you set up the classroom again. When did you have time to do that? It’s only been a few hours since we decided to come out here,” Mara said.
“Sam took the bus over this afternoon and put things together before he went to play basketball. Considering the beating everything took during your battle with that odd yellow sand that Special Agent Suter conjured up, it looks pretty good.” He held out a hand, inviting Mara to proceed to the classroom.
As she sat, she said, “I’m assuming since there’s a third mat here on the floor that Sam will be by later.”
“He didn’t say that he would stop by, but he may have taken it for granted and assumed we would too.” Ping sat on the mat across from Mara.
“I’m glad he turned on the heat. It’s starting to get a little nippy outside.” She rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms over her sweater, trying to generate a little warmth.
“We ready to get started?” Ping smiled.
“Yes, I’m ready to figure out how to not fix gadgets with my mind.”
Ping held up a finger. “Oh, that reminds me!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink egg-shaped object with a small metal loop on top.
“What’s that, a key ring?”
“No, it’s a Tamagotchi, see?” He held it up and swiveled his wrist, showing Mara the tiny gray-green screen imbedded in the side of the pink egg. “Have you ever had one of these before?”
“Are you kidding? I have the one I got in second grade. It is still alive, by the way.”
She reached toward the egg, but Ping pulled it away. “Of course it is. Didn’t that ever strike you as odd that your Tamagotchi has lived all these years?”
“Well, I took great care of it when I was a kid. I toilet trained it and everything. What? Are you saying I’ve metaphysically sustained my Tamagotchi all these years without knowing it?” Mara raised her right eyebrow.
“Considering your propensity for repairing mechanical devices inadvertently, it’s a distinct possibility, wouldn’t you say?”
Mara shrugged. “Maybe. Possibly. So what’s with the Tamagotchi?”
Ping held it up but making a point of keeping it out of Mara’s reach. He slid a thumb over one of the three tiny buttons below the screen, and it emitted a be-be-beep, be-be-beep sound.
Mara could see a tiny pixilated egg graphic shaking on the screen. It was about to hatch.
“You see that it’s working, correct?”
“Yes, you just turned it on.”
Ping slowly stood up next to his mat, held up the little device as if doing a formal demonstration, then bent over and sat it on the cement floor. He then straightened, winked and smiled at Mara.
“Yeah, so?” Mara said.
Ping lifted his foot and stomped on the pink egg, sending an echoing crack throughout the darkened warehouse.
“What are you doing?” Mara said, on her feet now.
Ping picked up the Tamagotchi and sat back on his mat. “Breaking it,” he said, handing it to Mara. “Now, I want you to put that in your pocket and I want you to focus on not fixing it while we talk.”
“I think the psychopath in you enjoyed killing that little guy.” Mara took the cracked egg and examined it. She ran her thumb across the broken casing and pressed on the scuffed blank screen that now sat unevenly in the shell. “So focus on not fixing it. All righty then.” She tucked it into her right pocket and patted the little bulge it made in her jeans. She sat once more, looked at Ping. “Okay, what are we talking about?”
“Are you taking this seriously? Are you focusing?”
Mara made a face of mock seriousness. “I’m very serious, very focused.”
Ping glowered.
“Yes. Look, I want to do this. I’m not going to fix this little guy.”
“Excellent. Now tell me about your impressions of the reading we had with Melanie Proctor. Was there anything in that experience that you found enlightening or helpful?”
“Enlightening or helpful? No, it was downright creepy. And that voice at the end, it was exactly like the voice coming out of the radio, except without the static. Most of the rest of it was nonsensical, don’t you think?”
“I think it might merit some examination to see if that can help you better understand your abilities and the implications of this voice which seems to be calling to you.”
“I’m more interested in examining what she had to say about you, during your reading. Why don’t we talk about that?”
Ping sighed. “You’re trying to change the subject. There’s no need to be embarrassed or uncomfortable.”
“Then you shouldn’t have any problems examining the meaning of your reading, should you?”
“Very well. What would you like to discuss with regard to my reading with Melanie?”
“Well, she said something about you always knowing that you would come here. Is that true?”
“I believe so. I spent my entire life studying and teaching the concepts of metaphysics, but I always had a sense that I was preparing for something more tangible, more meaningful than simply pondering theories. A part of me knew there was something more I had to do.”
“To come here.”
“To be with you, to help you do what needed to be done.”
“To be a mentor.”
“Yes, I suppose, in a way.”
“But she said you feared not knowing enough.”
“That is my greatest concern.”
“But you’ve taught me everything I know. I don’t think I could have survived the last couple months without you. I know I couldn’t have.”
“Perhaps, but my knowledge and advice have not been perfect. I did not anticipate that Sam’s mother could have crossed over the way she did and possessed her counterpart in this realm.”
“Nobody’s perfect, Ping. You said yourself that creation is a process of trial and error, that every possibility is being tested in order to define how existence will eventually come about.”
“What’s your point?”
“How are you supposed to anticipate every possibility? And if creation is a process of trial and error, doesn’t that include you? I mean, don’t you have to try-and-err like everyone else?”
Ping smiled, and his eyes grew a little misty.
Mara grew alarmed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He raised a hand and shook his head. “I’m not upset. I’m a little surprised.”
“About what?”
“At the depth of your understanding of the principles we have discussed. You are beginning to understand the true nature of things, and that is going to be your greatest strength. It’s amazing.”
“I’ve had a good teacher.”
“Thank you.”
“De nada. Now, tell me. What’s up with the dragon? Is he sleeping or not?”
“He is. At the moment.”
Mara straightened “At the moment? What exactly does that mean?”
“The best way to describe it is that sometimes it’s a profound sleep, and, other times, it’s a light sleep. I can sense when he’s restless or on the verge of consciousness.”
“Like at the bakery, with Sam.”
“That episode was unique. I think he actually awoke for a second.”
“What prompted that?”
“Nothing that I can determine.”
“What were you doing at the time?”
“Sam and I were discussing his father.”
“You don’t seem overly concerned about this. Don’t you think we should do something?”
“There’s no point in overreacting. As a matter of fact, I think that could make matters worse. I get the sense that the dragon is as aware of my conscious state as I am of its unconscious one.”
“I don’t know. You’re always making me face up to facts. Maybe you need to do the same.”
“Speaking of which, I think we’ve discussed me enough for now.”
Mara looked up wide-eyed, faux-innocent. “What would you like to talk about?”
Ping nodded downward. “How’s the Tamagotchi doing?”
Mara reached into her pocket and pulled it out. Still cracked with a blank gray screen. “Still not working.”
“Excellent. Have you been focusing on it while we talk about my psyche?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Good. Let’s see how well you do when we are talking about yours.”
“Great, that sounds like a hoot. Aren’t you getting hungry?”
- Writer
